#pishere

[traduzioniamazzoniche]

[kharjo-san]

Evidence:

Penelope in pink sure is making quite a stink, is she trying to throw me off the scent? Though she bats her little eyes is she a killer in disguise, With a diaper full of criminal intent?

Preening Patrick is pernicious with an appetite so vicious, he would bite the hand that feeds him with a sneer. But could that rotten tot be behind this evil plot, Baby-stepping towards a murderous career?

Pouty little Paco's looking coy but he's a bad, bad boy, Could Paco's passion prove apocalyptic? With his paci and his rattle did this pisher go to battle, Proving he's the perp amidst this Pickwick triptych?

~ Please reblog for exposure!

[the-lady-of-the-labyrinth]

Listening to you little pishers one would think that no one had ever tried peace in the Middle East before, like it’s something you just thought of, as though Israelis haven’t been working hard at this for decades. No, it’s much easier to believe that they’re warlike monsters who like nothing more than a bit of genocide in the morning.

I’m not saying that Israel is perfect – far from it – or that the IDF doesn’t have its share of bad apples. I simply challenge you to find one army that doesn’t, or one country that is. I ask you to look at some of the other nations in the region and tell me yeah, that’s a place I’d like to live. But no, Israel is held to much higher standard than the rest of the world, and even if they become better than all the rest, it still won’t be enough. It will never be enough so long as they still exist.

Speaking of double standards, it’s funny how you get all over people who say they aren’t racist despite the racialized community telling them otherwise. You always said that groups are entitled to define the boundaries of their own identity and decide for themselves what is and isn’t considered hatred towards them. Every group except… you guessed it (are you really going to make me say it?) Even more, if any one of us dare challenge a single line of your orthodoxy, you take it as an invitation to threaten and intimidate us in the worst ways you can think of.

My dear left wingers, we’ve stood side by side for so long. We got through the Trump presidency and all manners of horrors. Why do you abandon us now? Because we won’t stand for your dehumanization of Israelis or stand idly by while your thoughtless words and mindless chants stoke the flames of antisemitism here at home? It’s seems to me that you really don’t care, and maybe you think we deserve it for having the tenacity to say “maybe that solider was trying to help that child, not murder them”.

These are scary times for all Jews everywhere. If you can’t even feign to care, or if you react with hostility for being called out for not being kind, don’t you dare call yourselves allies. I don’t want to hear any of you ever say how if you were alive during WWII that you would have given shelter to the Jews, because you couldn’t be further from the truth. We are right here, hiding in plain sight, pleading with you to bring it down a few notches, but you refuse to see. Our existence threatens your sense of self-righteousness and outrage.

I refuse to beg for your understanding anymore. If you want to block me, please do me that favour. Honestly, Tumblr has been a much nicer and saner place since you all dropped off my timeline. I’ve learned more about antisemitism in the past seven weeks than in all my life prior. It’s been eye-opening, to say the least, so I might as well thank you for helping me understand what it truly means to be Jewish… but on second thought, no. You can all go f*** yourselves.

[trueoffmypusher]

trU3 off mY pushr m0R3 1ike turn oFF MY pisher kachoww B3

[misforgotten2]

“Gott im Himmel! We all hear what you were doing up there you little pisher. You bring shame on the whole family. Do not you know if you do not stop you will go blinded.”

Tales From Grimm Freely Translated and Illustrated By Wanda Gág   1936

[spacelazarwolf]

This whole "anti-convert science" things smells a looooot like "anti-trans science," which is to say that the pishers have found your ask box again (self deprecation absolutely intended)

it one million percent is. so much anti convert rhetoric matches te/rf and anti trans rhetoric almost word for word.

[sassymccoy]

Dracula daily discord!

https://discord.gg/hwubmCBW

(How do I send a link without sounding like a pisher scam… i will never know)

i feel like i have been hashtag blessed thank you anon 🖤🦇

[dumbasswhatever]

Three little babes in their bassinets

Angelic little triplets or triple threats?

They might have fooled the others, but they won't fool me

It's time to give these teething, seething three

The third degree

Which of the Pickwick triplets did it?

Who of the crew could commit this crime?

Might a little brat make a mommy go splat?

It's a story pretty gory for a nursery rhyme

Which of the Pickwick triplets did it?

Which of the spawn had the brawn to kill?

Will a baby get tried for matricide?

Coochie-coochie-coo, time for you or you or you to admit it

So quick as a whip gotta pick which Pickwick triplеt did it

Penelope in pink surе is making quite a stink

Is she trying to throw me off the scent?

Though she bats her little eyes, is she a killer in disguise

With a diaper full of criminal intent?

Preening Patrick is pernicious with an appetite so vicious

He would bite the hand that feeds him with a sneer

But could that rotten tot be behind this evil plot

Baby-stepping towards a murderous career?

Pouty little Paco's looking coy, but he's a bad, bad boy

Could Paco's passion prove apocalyptic?

With his paci' and his rattle, did this pisher go to battle

Proving he's the perp amidst this Pickwick triptych?

In this picaresque puzzle of the Pickwick pack

Will a lighthouse shed some light

On which kid gave ol' mom a whack?

There's an infant to indict

I'll book this little crook tonight

But

Which of the Pickwick triplets did it?

Who of the crew would commit this crime?

Which little brat made mommy go splat?

Which crib, which sib will be doing hard time?

Which of the Pickwick triplets did it?

Which little putz had the guts to kill?

Like a forensic pediatrician, I'll complete this inquisition

I will name the neonatal from the cradle that proved fatal

I will find the perpetrator who did murder to their maker

Or

Coochie-coochie-coo

What if none of it is true?

Has my inspection been too cursory

Should I look outside this nursery?

What if none of the Pickwick triplets did it?

Who'd have had a menacing motive and hid it?

Who? Who? Who? Well

I pick you!

[tallbarbershopman]

The Tallis Case

I saw a post about ChatGPT and it sent me into a blind rage, so now I'm sharing a story that I read as part of a pre-med seminar that taught me that no matter what the advances in technology, humanity will always be a necessary part of medicine—and in all likelihood, the most important part.

This is The Tallis Case, as told by Dr. David Nash in the collection "A Life in Medicine. It's one of my favorite stories. Keep reading below the cut.

"I approach my responsibilities of teaching cardiology to medical students and house officers with some ambivalence. Of course, I have always enjoyed and usually learned something from my contacts with these young colleagues, but lately their emphasis seems to be entirely on technical procedures. Few of my charges express an interest in entering full-time solo practice; most are not enthusiastic about honing their skills in bedside physical diagnosis. None believes in house calls.

I can remember making house calls on people who were too poor for a society doctor but too proud for the clinic. My mind can still conjure up the kind of call I'd get, almost always at night.

'Doctor, can you come? Quick! It's Zadhr, he's not feeling too good.'

'What seems to be the trouble?'

'How should I know? He just doesn't feel good. Please come.'

It was usually more a plea than a command. I'd roll over to the side of the bed and fall into my clothes. Bleary-eyed, I'd stagger to my car and fume because it started so slowly in the cold. Heated garages were an unachieved luxury when I started in practice. Somehow I'd find the address, although more often than not I'd get lost in the process. About the time I was cursing under my breath, I'd spot the telltale light and an anxious kerchief-clad face at the window, one hand pulling the curtains apart for a better view.

'You're the doctor?' would be the greeting, punctuated by lifted eyebrows and a faint grimace of disbelief. I looked young for my age. People trusted older, more experienced doctors in those days.

'I'm Dr. Nash. Where's the patient?' I usually preferred to get right down to business, considering it was the middle of the night.

'What's your hurry? Take off your coat. Zadhr is in the bedroom." The ancient female before me was annoyed. It was obvious to her that youths no longer concerned themselves with manners, and she didn't really approve of young pishers passing themselves off as real doctors, even if one could not pay.

Her eyes spotted my little black bag and seemed reassured for the moment. She heaved a sigh, somewhere between a grunt and a wheeze, and led the way.

The house was of typical frame, construction, two-storied and of pre-World War I vintage. The banisters that led up to the master bedroom were hand carved and glistened with a dark patina of hardwood and years of furniture polish. A threadbare runner led up the stairs. At the top I could hear the sounds of respiratory distress.

The ancient Jew sitting bolt upright in bed against several down pillows looked regal with his white beard and long sideburns. His nightclothes were white, and a small yarmulke adorned his gray, tufted scalp. Dark, bright eyes burned at me through the somber dimness of the room lit by a single 60-watt bulb. He offered no greeting or complaint, just a long soul-piercing stare. I was mesmerized for a moment, and then the noise of his breathing broke through my consciousness and I knew I had my hands full.

My examination was brief and confirmatory. The old man was in severe congestive heart failure. He was literally drowning in his own juices.

'Did he eat anything salty?'

'Nothing. A little schmaltz herring; a bowl of chicken soup; he doesn't eat enough.'

She could not see me wince. Wisely, I stopped myself from explaining the reality of salt restriction to an old Orthodox matriarch who was salting flesh before I was born.

Well, at least I knew what had to be done.

'He has to go to the hospital. Where's the phone?'

'No!' It was the only word Zadhr had said. It did not brook discussion, but I wasn't quite wise enough to realize that.

'Look', I started a little louder than necessary to emphasize my conviction and the academic knowledge that my professors had assured me would carry the day once I got into practice. 'Look, he's in heart failure. I can treat him better in the hospital. It's important.'

'Doctor, you heard my husband. He doesn't want to go. Treat him here.'

I knew further negotiations would be fruitless. I gave him digoxin, a diuretic, and a shot of morphine, but he was still working too hard breathing. Then my training finally came in handy. I told the old lady what I needed. With hesitation she went to the kitchen and cut the cord away from the curtains. I arranged the tourniquet around the old man's arms and legs. With the blood trapped in his extremities, he began to breathe better again.

During the next several hours, he congestive heart failure abated. Finally he dozed off, able to lie flat again for the first time in a week.

The old lady had given me several cups of tea during the long night's vigil, so I was wide awake when dawn broke. Convinced that the patient would survive, I turned to go. At the door she pressed something in my hand and murmured an awkward thanks.

As I started the engine, I opened the brown paper wrapper. Inside was a hand-embroidered tallis case, its velvet worn by a lifetime of weekly use.

I wondered how many of my students will feel as rewarded for their efforts."

[nebris]

Chazer: pig Ganef: dishonest person Ligner: liar Mamzer: bastard Nebbish: a person, especially a man, who is regarded as pitifully ineffectual, timid, or submissive. Nokshleper: is a person who tags along where it's clear that he isn't wanted; he's either too stupid or too desperate to take a hint Pisher: an insignificant or contemptible person. Putz: fool, jerk Shlub: a stupid, worthless, or unattractive person. Schmegegge: baloney; hot air; nonsense Schmuck: a foolish or contemptible person Schnorrer: a beggar or scrounger Shande: a Jew who dishonors Jews by not only doing something bad, but doing something that confirms the worst fears of others about Jews in genera Shleger: a nickname for a forceful person. Shtarker: a strong, stout fellow. thug. big shot, an arrogant person. Tsvuak: hypocrite

[whitepolaris]

Picher, Oklahoma: Poison City

The West is littered with ghost towns. Formerly bustling communities went belly-up when the local industry, usually mining or drilling, dried up, leaving no money and no reason for anyone to stay. In Oklahoma, places like Ingalls, Boggy Depot, and Provine, among dozens of others, offer little more than a few scattered buildings, perhaps a cemetery, and a handful of fading memories.

A tour these old communities can be an exciting and enjoyable adventure into urban exploration. It's an entirely different experience, however, to see a ghost town in the making. Picher (pronounced "pisher"), tucked away in the northeastern corner of the state, is a community in the spasmodic throes of death, just a few rattled breaths from the end. A town that just a few decades ago buzzed with the activity of twenty thousand Oklahomans now houses just a few hundred. Its main street is lined with vacant businesses, and the outer walls of unoccupied buildings display notices marking them as "condemned."

A pass through its tranquil streets reveals the reason why. Picher is a town literally poisoned by its own success. What might appear at first to be gravelly hills are actually massive piles of contaminated chat, the polluted remains from years of lead and zinc mining. The tainted mounds, some measuring as much as a hundred feet high, fill nearly every available space between homes and businesses.

And where there aren't piles, there are sinkholes. The abandoned tunnels that crisscross just feet beneath Picher's sod are collapsing, opening up cavities large enough to ingest entire houses. In 1967, a single collapse swallowed nine homes in a single gulp. A hundred more, according to a study performed in 2006, are in eminent danger of the same fate. Residents report a daily rumbling beneath the earth. Cave-ins have become such a hazard that the highway into town has been closed to heavy trucks and the city park has been fenced off lest the ground consume Picher's few remaining children.

Lead-contaminated dust blows through town, breathed in by the residents who have yet to move away. Nearby Tar Creek runs orange with acidic water seeping from the mines. The ponds that dot the landscape glimmer with a strange, blue-green hue. Before anyone knew better, the enormous chat piles were used for sledding, biking, and picnicking. In the 1990s, a frightening study revealed elevated levels of lead in the blood of Picher's schoolchildren. It's been called "one of the worst environmental nightmares in the country."

The mines closed in the 1970, and soon thereafter Picher and about forty surrounding acres were recognized by the U.S. government as a toxic hazard. The area, cleanup of which has proceeded at the pace of nauseated snail, remains one of the oldest and largest Superfund sites in the nation. Recent property buyouts, however, have helped in moving many of the remaining residents out of harm's way.

As if to drive another nail into Picher's coffin, a devastating tornado tore through the town on May 10, 2008. There were six confirmed deaths and at least 150 injured. Twenty blocks of the town suffered extensive damage with houses and businesses destroyed or flattened. The twister continued eastward, passing just north of Quapaw and Peoria before crossing Interstate 44 into Missouri. This was the deadliest tornado in Oklahoma since the South Oklahoma City tornado of May 3, 1999, which killed thirty-six. The federal government determined that there would be no aid given to rebuild homes, but the buyouts would continue as previously scheduled and people would be assisted in relocation.

When Picher held a parade in the spring of 2008 in honor of the town's nineteenth birthday, only about eight hundred people were left. Save for a few predictable holdouts who refuse to leave their homes on account of a little "harmless" tangerine-colored drinking water, that number is destined to reach zero before long.

[gazellefamily]

FUNNY PAGES (2022) "Like an exaggerated hit-piece on Sonny's own naive/jaded adolescence. Laszlo, Babs.... you were right about everything. Sorry I was such a pisher. This is one of the all-time great movies about aspiring cartoonists, and there's not too many out there. I won't explain the plot, but let's just say I watched this movie two nights in a row, that's how much I loved it. Written and directed by the son of KevKline and topbird Phoebe Cates, who is apparently one of my favorite new filmmakers. Nepo-babies can be talented too. A24 consistent with those UNCUT GEMS stressful weirdos and Tri-State crevices locales" -Sonny Gazelle

[why5x5]

Don't forget bissel, schmuck, tuchus, tush, oy vey, schlep, schlemiel, schlemazel, shmendrick, schmatte, schvitzing, schmooze, nosh (nosherye), yenta, schtick, bubbelah, knish, golem, kibbitz, latke, lox, maven, megillah, nebbish, noodge, nudnik, schlock, schlub, schmeer, schmutz, schnoz, shtik, shtup (like Lily von Shtup in Blazing Saddles; there's a reason she was called that), shpiel, schnook, bupkes, kvetsh, schmaltzy, pisher, emmis, and schmo.

do goyische english speakers even know how many words they use regularly are yiddish Do they even know

[delectablywaywardbeard-blog]

Il paradiso del cybercrime. Lo strano caso delle isole Tokelau

AGI – Un arcipelago di tre isole nello sconfinato oceano Pacifico, territorio della Nuova Zelanda e appena 1400 abitanti, ma gli atolli di Tokelau, che ha conosciuto il telefono soltanto nel 1997, sono il territorio con più domini internet registrati al mondo: attualmente sono 25 milioni. E l’attività web rappresenta il 10% di pil. Il paradiso degli spammer, del cyber crimine, dei pisher e del…

[nj-stone]

Chazer: pig Ganef: dishonest person Ligner: liar Mamzer: bastard Nebbish: a person, especially a man, who is regarded as pitifully ineffectual, timid, or submissive. Nokshleper: is a person who tags along where it's clear that he isn't wanted; he's either too stupid or too desperate to take a hint Pisher: an insignificant or contemptible person. Putz: fool, jerk Shlub: a stupid, worthless, or unattractive person. Schmegegge: baloney; hot air; nonsense Schmuch: a foolish or contemptible perso Schnorrer: a beggar or scrounger Shande: a Jew who dishonors Jews by not only doing something bad, but doing something that confirms the worst fears of others about Jews in genera Shleger: a nickname for a forceful person. Shtarker: a strong, stout fellow. thug. big shot, an arrogant person. Tsvuak: hypocrite