#that or ‘you homo sapiens and your guns’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rs-hawk · 5 months ago

Note

Are you willing to write about anthropomorphic gorillas?

Sure, like a Missing Link type thing? I think this piece is my longest so far. I actually had a lot of fun with it so let me know if y'all want more of it :)

You were studying evolution by going backwards, starting with modern day Homo Sapiens until you ended up on an island off the coast of South America, in the middle of no where. While you always had been a huge believer in the floating vegetation theory, the idea of something as large as a primate, hominin or hominid travelling via floating clumps of vegetation seemed far fetched, even to you. Yet here you were, standing on one island of a long island chain that had previously never been studied.

"Are you sure this is even worth the time?" your assistant asked as he looked around the area, a frown creasing his face. "I know that we're searching for a link, but come on Doc. This seems like a stretch."

"I know, but this is where those trees originated, and if they ended up in Brazil, maybe that could explain how New World Monkeys ended up in South America," you say, mirroring his frown.

The two of you, and a small crew, spread out to find a suitable place to camp. Once it's found, you settle in. In the morning, you've planned to try to find any primates who might still reside here. Much to your surprise, when you wake up in the morning, you see a large humanoid footprint right outside the campsite. A knot forms in your stomach as you imagine how big that creature must have been.

Your crew is also stunned, especially your assistant. He insists on following you around like a lost pup, toting a gun. You have to tell him to stop and calm down. Human presence here already is disruptive to the ecosystem. He doesn't need to make it worse. With a grumble and a grunt, he slings it over his shoulder, taking care not to let it catch on any flora in the area.

"Look at this," you breathe, gesturing to the large footprints that you found in a clearing.

You're so excited that you feel like you're basically vibrating. Yes, this isn't even close to what you're looking for, but a primate of that size would be the scientific discovery of the century! Who knows what something like that could mean for the state of evolution. Surely you could get another grant to come back and study it.

"Be careful," your assistant mutters as you approach the footprints, measuring the size and diameter. The depth of the footprint stuns you. "Whatever left that could be dangerous."

"You think everything could be dangerous," you roll your eyes, recording your notes. "Besides, I know more about primates than you. I know that they have the potential to be dangerous. We would see this creature if it was anywhere in the area."

"Yeah," he mutters, looking around.

After a bit of back and forth, you send him back to camp to get more supplies for you to study the footprints. Once he's out of sight, you pause before following the footprints. He would be on you about following this creature, but you can't help yourself. Something is pulling you closer to it. Like a primal need to be closer to this creature. This piece of your own history.

A voice that you don't recognize came from somewhere in the distance in front of you. After a moment, a huge, towering figure comes out of the trees. The trees themselves bend to his will. Your stomach drops. You steps falter. This creature could have easily crushed you if it so chose.

The creature, a towering hulk of a something that is a perfect blend of man and gorilla. Your throat feels like it's closing up as it stops a few paces away from you. Opening its mouth, the creature speaks to you again, but you still don't understand what the words mean.

"I'm sorry," you say after a moment, the stunned buzzing in your brain starting to dissipate. This creature can speak. There's no way that your grant won't be extended. "I don't understand what you're saying."

He, you think he based on the physique this close, frowns at you. He speaks again. You shake your head. Once more. Again, you shake. This time when he speaks, you don't understand what he's saying, but you do recognize it as Latin. "I don't speak Latin but it's the root language for mine."

The creature looks at you, now shaking his head. The both of you try to communicate with each other, and it works to an extent. You're fairly certain that he comes from a small village at the base of the mountain near the center of the island. They mostly eat fruits and vegetables, and he makes gestures that leads you to believe that clothes are sometimes worn, but not the norm.

Before you realize it, you and the creature are sitting beside each other, his towering form nearly obscuring you when your assistant finally makes his way back to you.

"What is that thing?" he yells, making a grab for his gun.

"Don't! He's friendly. He was telling me about his home," you jump up, putting yourself between them.

Your assistant eyes him wearily. The creature looks at you, then back at your assistant. He says something you don't understand in Latin, then waves at your assistant. He frowns slightly. It feels like there's going to be a stand off, but instead, your assistant folds his arms over his chest, a frown steeped into his features.

"Go back to the camp. Thank you for the supplies. I will be back before nightfall," you promise, slightly shooing him away.

After a bit of back and forth, you convince him to leave. You and the creature stay together for a long time, until dusk. Every day for weeks, the entire expedition, you meet up with the creature, getting closer to him. Getting to know him and his people. You even get to see the outskirts of the village. A true testament to how amazing evolution and innovation are.

When the night before you are set to leave comes, you come to him, standing outside his village, a basket of his favorite fruits and vegetables clutched in your shaking hands. He sees you, encouraging you to come into the village. Into his home. You follow, shrinking away from the gazes of his people, who seem to know you don't belong here. And how could they not? You're so small compared to them. So fragile.

In his hut, you feel even smaller. Everything in there is so large compared to you. You haven't been able to figure out a name from your new friend, but you've taken to calling him Link in your head. Link hands you a fruit that you've never seen before he sits in what is essentially a chair across from you.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," you say quietly, looking down at your fruit. He doesn't respond. You look up at him, and you can tell even under the fur that he's frowning. "In the morning, the boat is leaving. I have to go with them."

He says something you don't understand, to which you shrug. He points at the hole that functions as a door in his hut, then at you, and waves. You nod. He looks down at his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. Neither of you say anything for a moment, then he gets up. His massive form nearly encompassing you as he stands in front of you.

He opens his mouth, then closes it. In broken English, he says, "S-stay." Your eyes well with tears as you shake your head, staring at the way his hands cover yours when he grabs them. "Me. Stay me."

You shake your head again, wishing that you could remember any Latin outside of names. Why didn't you pay more attention in class? "I can't."

He lets go of your hands before pacing around the hut. You look at the now crushed fruit in your hands. "Go me."

"What?" you look up at him, your heart soaring. Was he saying what you thought he was? Then again, your mind races. What would happen to him when you got back home? He would be seen as a specimen, wouldn't he?

"Go me," he comes back to you, grabbing your hands, the juice squishing between your fingers as he tightens his grip. "Go me. Go you. Go me."

"You can't come with me," you whisper, caressing his furry face. He looks at you like his heart his breaking. "I wish I could explain better." You slide your hands out of his, trying not to cry. You point toward yourself, "people like me," then you touch his chest, "would kill someone like you." You drag your thumb across your throat.

He seems to understand what you're saying, though he looks more hurt than scared. "Go me," he whispers cupping your face with his large hands. "Stay you?"

You shake your head, leaning into his touch. What had you been thinking? If you come back here, if you study them, they'll be destroyed. Their entire culture will be gone, consumed by capitalism and greed. Isn't that what's happened a thousand times over?

Suddenly, you're snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. His fur tickling your skin. You blink a couple of times before kissing him back, surprised but happily so by the sudden show of affection. His tongue demands an entry to your mouth. You shiver, giving in to the lust and overwhelming affection for him that has sprung up on you all at once, but unsurprisingly.

His large hands trail down your body, pausing at the end of your shirt. He mutters something against your lips that you understand the gist of. He wants you as bare as him. You hesitate, your face flushing, but it only takes another tug at your shirt for you to relent. In seconds you've stripped yourself, probably the fastest you've ever done such. His huge hands cup your breasts, covering them completely. When he picks you up to settle you in his lap, you feel how big his cock is hard. Sure, you've seen it as he doesn't wear clothes, but this was different.

Maybe he's more human than you thought, because unlike other primate species, but like humans, size did seem to matter. You realize that when he breaks the kiss to look at you, then at himself. He looks... embarrassed.

You don't know what compels you, maybe just the look on his face, but you start stroking him, having to use both hands to wrap about him. His eyes fall to half lidded. His breathing hitches. Slowly, he grinds his hips against you, letting you stroke him at your leisure. You dip your head down, struggling, but managing, to take the tip of his cock in your mouth. He grunts, digging his nails into your back. You know there will be, at best, crescent shaped bruises on your back come morning.

You bob your head as much as you can manage, his grunts and soft whines spurring you on. While you can't understand the things that slip from his mouth, you can tell by the way he says them that he's enjoying it.

You do your best to get him further down your throat, bracing yourself against his furry hips, but that just makes him grunt, snorting out of flared nostrils. For a second you still, every hair on the back of your neck standing up. Every nerve screaming danger. Even in this moment, you are aware that a primate doing that can spell death. It's a common sign of anger or aggression.

You're surprised when he lifts your head off of him, shaking his head. You frown, raising your eyebrows to ask why. He pauses before adjusting you, easily picking you up and settling you back in his lap, this time with your back against his chest. You're a bit ashamed of yourself to see the mess your wetness made of his fur, but that thought abandons you as he grinds his cock against your core, but his fingers dip down in front of you, teasing your clit.

You whine, grinding back against him. With his other hand, he's back to playing with your breast, softly pinching your nipples. Rolling his thumb over your senstive center over and over again. He brings you to a surprisingly quick orgasm. He makes a sound you think sounds like a laugh before his fingers dip lower. You still, even your breathing, as he slids one finger into your dripping hole.

He starts off slowly as he fingers you, before adding another. You press yourself more against his chest, whimpering and babbling about how good it feels. This time, you're sure it's a chuckle. He spreads his fingers out inside of you, trying to stretch you out. Your head lulls to the side, leaning against his arm. You feel so full. So good. Through your haze, it takes you a moment to realize that he's settling you onto his cock.

A quiet yip escapes your lips as his huge tip fills you more than anything you've ever taken. He pauses, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You try to press yourself down on him. You don't even realize you're chanting. Begging.

"More. More. Please! More."

He understands the premise enough to push you down lower and lower on him, slowly impaling you. He gives you time to adjust, and by the time he bottoms out inside of you, you're a drooling, babbling mess. He drops you up and down on his cock slowly, then faster and faster. You're crying out for him, grabbing onto his arms as he bounces you on his cock, the huge member even extending your stomach. You know you're soaking his fur, but you can't help yourself. You lose track of how many times him pounding and sliding against your g-spot makes you cum.

By the time he does, you're sobbing from over stimulation, and he's whispering to you in a soothing voice, stroking your hair with one hand as the other guides you to roll your hips on him. He finally cums, so much that it overflows from you. You whimper and press your head back harder against him, feeling the best you ever have in your life. How are you possibly supposed to leave him?

80 notes · View notes

rallentando1011 · 9 months ago

Note

hey so can I get a scenario with rise donnie’s s/o coming up to him and invited him to a restaurant in the hidden city where it has couples dancing? Entices him with his favourite music that’s gonna be playing and massive puppy eyes?

late nights, flashing lights

rise Donnie x gn reader

“Come on, it’s the weekend! Why not do something special?”

Donnie flipped up his goggles in response to your question and set down his welding gun, sparks ceasing to fly at his confusion. “I haven’t the slightest notion on what the day of the week has to do with my choice of activities.”

“Our choice of activities - we’re hanging out right now, so it’s collective,” you corrected.

“Fine - our choice of activities. Sitting and working and engaging in riveting discussions is all we do on other nights, so what makes this one any different?”

You paused. All week, you had been planning a surprise for him - a trip to a quaint little disco in the Hidden City you’d heard about from April. She’d sent you some pictures from when she’d gone with Sunita and Casey, and then the idea took root.

But it was easier said than done.

Planning to surprise your turtle was difficult primarily for two reasons: the snoop always found out about it in advance (which you’d avoided narrowly this time by not mentioning anything about any plans tonight) and, the most difficult part, trying to get him to choose to go out of the lair, the step you found yourself currently stuck on. Still, you were going to try.

“I don’t know,” you replied coolly, “maybe the fact that it’s supposed to be the end of the week, time to relax or go out or something?”

“Out?”

“Yes. Out. With me. Instead of holing yourself up in the lab or whatever,” you mumbled.

“Out where? Not a lot of Homo sapien-mutant-accepting entertainment establishments come to mind, and, much as I love pretending not to be myself,” he flicked his goggles back down and turned back to his workspace.“I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for it right now.”

“Well.” You didn’t want to say that you knew of one in particular because that sort of spoiled the surprise element of the night. Hesitantly, you suggested, “we can try to look for one?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, hand stopping just shy of picking up his welding tool once more. “I don’t know…”

“Could we please just give it a shot?” Hook.

You nudged his arm, mustering up the warmest look you had. Line. “Any time you want to come back or feel uncomfortable, we’re headed right back here.”

Donnie glanced back over to you, and you could discern the exact moment he caved. Sinker. “Sure.”

The next half hour consisted of throwing on sweatshirts, linking arms and whipping out of the lair straight toward one of the many entrances to the Hidden City.

As you wandered through portals, down ramps and bystreets, the turtle you were practically dragging along looked at you exceedingly more quizzically.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Donnie eventually muttered.

“What?” you asked incredulously, quite unconvincingly. “No, of course not. Just meandering randomly. What gave you that impression?”

“Oh, nothing - just the fact that you’re walking with assertion in a seemingly predetermined path.”

A subtle smirk worked its way onto your face. “Maybe.”

He scowled, lighthearted. “Oh, sweet Galileo- why mustn’t you ask me out with you straightforwardly when you already have plans?”

You pulled on his sleeve to direct you two left before pushing the entrance of your location open for him. “Because then I wouldn’t get to see the look on your face when I take you places like this.”

As soon as he stepped foot in the building, you saw the glow in his eyes, his radiant beam, and they were far more beautiful than the already gorgeous venue.

The pictures you’d seen of it looked good, but seeing it in person was even better; with the amber lights and colorful tiled-dance floor and overhead disco ball, the place looked like it was ripped straight out of the 80’s.

“It’s a discotheque, baby!” you grinned, throwing an arm back around his shoulder. “Last one like this within, like, a thousand mile radius.”

“Woah!” Somehow his eyes lit up even more when he looked back at you. It was stunning. “How have I not heard of this place?”

“I mean, that checks out. April recommended it, and apparently it took Sunita forever to find somewhere with a more traditional disco - it only plays 70’s and 80’s hits. You’re welcome.”

Donnie was still stupefied. “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

“I heard they’ve got some tables over there for dining, and that the drinks from there-”

Your hand was gently snatched from the air where it was pointing at a countertop across the room. You looked down at the tridactyl hand holding it, then up its owner.

The turtle grinned, finally pulled from his daze and emphatically lucid. The look in his eyes bore a striking resemblance to the exact one you’d used to get him to agree to come here. “We can get into the dives and dining and whatnot later - for right now, care to dance?”

“I mean, I have a reservation for-”

Another hand on your waist was all it took to shut you up, and slowly walking backwards landed the both of you on floor, and pulling you closer resulted in the both of you grinning and spinning and dancing.

As a myriad of killer songs blasted from the front of the room, you found yourself inundated with a seeping, saccharine satisfaction, partially derived from doing the merengue and cha-cha and some deviant of the Cabbage Patch along with many more improvisations, but mostly from the sheer elation exuded by your dance partner.

Even as you two continued to bounce to Whitney or sway to Prince, his focus stayed on you, eyes locked, with scarcely a moment without a hand or arm making contact with you.

Somehow, just that affectionate attention, that carefree yet caring energy made the efforts of getting him into a social setting and keeping a surprise from the nosiest person in the world abundantly more than worth it.

117 notes · View notes

velvet4510 · 3 months ago

Text

28 notes · View notes

wuxiaphoenix · 3 months ago

Text

Worldbuilding: Being Crossed

You may have laughed at fantasy games’ penchant for dragon-cross-everything. And I couldn’t blame you. Dragons are just so cool, and D&D in particular has come up with many, many ways monsters and NPCs can be part-dragon to make them even cooler. But if you read some history, especially the niche stuff that focuses on odd bits like the History of Salt or the Little Ice Age worldwide rather than the usual politics and wars, you can get a good sense that if dragons did exist, humans would be crossing them with everything. Warning, what has been seen cannot be unseen... even if, especially if, it’s face-palmy ridiculous.

Ladies and gentlemen, the zebroid.

I... To be honest, as a student of biology and genetics I am somewhat flabbergasted this even works. Mules work out, we all know that, but the donkey has 62 chromosomes while the horse has 64, so the resulting cross critter has 63 chromosomes, and that seems... plausible to survive?

Zebras range as low as 32 chromosomes, and only as high as 46 (depending on the species), meaning all zebroid results will have at least nine chromosomes with no matching pairmate. And yet most are quite viable, if almost never fertile. Yikes.

(Biology is so squirrelly sometimes!)

I will note here that humans seem to be pretty darn fragile in this respect. We can survive duplications of only a few specific chromosomes, and a zygote missing any chromosome besides one of the sex chromosomes results in death. XXY and XO are survivable, though not without consequences; OY is not.

If you’re wondering why would anyone even try this? about the zebroid, poke a bit more history. Humans are down to cross darn near anything, it seems. Savannah cats, wolfdogs (oh what a bad idea), and killer bees (possibly a worse idea) are all hybrids deliberately created by Homo supposedly sapiens. Look into plants and it gets even weirder. Though one bit of that weirdness is probably regularly in your fruit bowl; the domestic strawberry of today came from an 18th century cross between a European species and one from the Pacific Coast of North America.

Heck, we’ve even tried to cross gems. At one point in the Middle Ages certain people sincerely believed that aquamarines were the offspring of sapphires and emeralds, and tried various experiments to produce them.

With that in mind, the zebroid seems yet another “it seemed like a good idea at the time”. But apparently it actually was a useful idea... in Boer Africa. Horses fall prey to sleeping sickness. Zebras don’t. If the Boers wanted to haul freight north into the hotter areas to expand, or pull gun carriages to fight the British, they needed draft animals that wouldn’t lie down and die. Zebroids aren’t exactly tame, and usually don’t have a temperament that makes them good mounts - but mules are nasty too, and we use them to haul guns.

The Boers lost. Zebroids are still born; sometimes by accident. And still kind of amazing.

If you have exotic animals in your world... well, it’s something to think about. What might your breeders get up to?

#creative writing #worldbuilding #writing reference

7 notes · View notes

kaylinalexanderbooks · 5 months ago

Text

Writeblr interview

Thanks @paeliae-occasionally here!

Short stories, novels or poems?

Novels. My stories are already long for that word count, how am I supposed to write a short story?

What genre do you prefer reading?

I am not a picky reader when it comes to genres. I've literally retyped this section five times. Please just accept this.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Now that's easy: fantasy! I have a long list of ideas to write about and exactly one is realistic fiction. TSP is the only true sci-fi one I have because it's breaking my brain. I also didn't mean to make it sci-fi but I had so many scientists I kinda accidentally realized I did when I was in high school. I need some element of magic, usually, to write a compelling narrative. I don't know why.

Are you a planner or a write-as-i-go kind of person?

I've slowly become more of a planner as time has gone on. But I also plan and write as I go. Whatever I'm feeling, but I usually need an outline or I feel like bashing my head in. So planner.

What music do you listen to while writing the story?

Songs with words. I just throw on a playlist of random songs and I'm good.

Fav books/movies

I don't have a favorite book, honestly. Idk the books that come to mind are like The Martian and Simon vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda. So I'll go with my instinct.

Movies? Oh I've been debating this one for years but honestly it's probably Megamind.

Any Current WIPs?

The Secret Portal is the main one! Also working on School of the Legends when I can. Everything else is just an idea.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Plaid flannel overshirt, tank top beneath, jeans, airwalks.

Create a character description of yourself.

I don't know why but this genuinely makes me uncomfortable. I have to pass, sorry.

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

I can't even describe myself! No!! But I won't lie that I have based characters off people, but I always try to make them distinctly not them.

Are you kill-happy with the characters?

I once was but now I can't do it. It's a problem. I don't know who to kill anymore.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Coffee by default, if those are my only options, but I usually just write with water.

Slow or Fast writer?

Short term? Fast. Long term? Slow. I breeze through my writing sessions with ease. But like motivation and planning slow me down.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Me. And also the shows I watch.

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

I don't care just allow me to teleport.

Fave book cliche?

Ugh I don't know because most cliches work only in certain circumstances. I lose my shit at Checkov's guns does that count?

Least fave book cliche?

Hmm. I don't like love at first sight, I'll be honest. Like immediate crushes or attraction I've learned to live with because I realize me being acearo-spec means I'll never understand it, but I prefer slow burn romance.

Fave scenes to write?

Character driven scenes. I like conversations.

Most productive time of day for writing?

Evening. Probably will be early afternoon soon with my schedule.

Reason for writing?

I'd literally self implode if I didn't.

Tagging @illarian-rambling @mk-writes-stuff @the-golden-comet @thepeculiarbird @honeybewrites

+ ANYONE ELSE

Blanks below the cut

Short stories, novels or poems? What genre do you prefer reading? What genre do you prefer writing? Are you a planner or a write-as-i-go kind of person? What music do you listen to while writing the story? Fav books/movies Any Current WIPs? If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be? Create a character description of yourself. Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing? Are you kill-happy with the characters? Coffee or Tea while writing? Slow or Fast writer? Where/who/what do you find inspiration from? If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be? Fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche? Fave scenes to write? Most productive time of day for writing? Reason for writing?

#writeblr interview #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community #writing tag game

7 notes · View notes

superbdragoncollection-stuff · 1 year ago

Text

An analysis of the new Planet of the Apes movies, having seen the latest trailer.

There are two things missing from the new Planet of the Apes series, the themes about deliberate destruction of civilization, and the themes of civil rights. The removal of those elements undermine the entire point of the series.

I used to think it was irrational that I didn't like the new Planet of the Apes movies, especially after I hadn't seen them. Mostly I don't want to see them because I find the premise annoying, antithetical to many themes of the franchise, anti-science, and other ridiculous things. I'm a big fan of the old series, I sought out EVERYTHING once upon a time. I found comics, I found all the movies, I found the cartoon, I found the TV show, I found the video games. But I have never EVER wanted to even see the new movies. I had an irrational hatred of them ever since I saw them.

Then I realized something. I thought it was shallow I hadn't seen any of them, but it's hard to see them when they've just been remaking my least favorite installment in the franchise three or four times. I saw Planet of the Apes, Beneath, Escape, and Battle, 1, 2, 3, and 5, but never Conquest, 4, because it seemed sad and depressing. If I'm seeing that movie being remade over and over and over, no wonder I don't want to see them! A die hard fan like me didn't want to see the original version, and then they just remake that movie three times?! Sometimes it is a legit point of critique if a fan can't watch an installment, or finish reading it.

Having heard from someone who has seen it though, the themes that do exist within the new films make it less powerful emotionally. They've cut out all the aspects that made the original series compelling. You can have natural disaster, you can have science gone wrong, the problem is attaching the Apes name to it. One of the fundamental parts of Planet of the Apes is that the films, the ape takeover is not the result of hubris, or by accident, it is explicitly a deliberate tragedy. It is stupid, but it is by no means foolish or an accident. It is deliberate.

You don't fall into nuclear war by accident. You don't stumble across total atomic annihilation. You knowingly and deliberately cause it. One has to first invent the atomic bomb. Then one has to make more. Hundreds, thousands, or tens of thousands. You have to make the infrastructure to build and deliver them. You have to have the political will to keep them. None of this is by accident. It may be fired by accident, but for that to even be possible requires an awful and cruel and deliberate mindset to begin with. You can't point your car at someone, jump out at the last second, and claim the car killed them. One can't duct-tape a gun to someone's hand, tell them they have to shoot someone or else they'll die, and avoid all blame. Nuclear war is not pride, or arrogance, it is the homo sapiens' own inhumanity. It is the stupid and cruel desire to hit someone else with a rock. Taylor screaming at the end might be a funny meme, but when you watch the entire film, it's chilling. All you hear is this poor astronaut cursing the men who destroyed his civilization, as the waves crash against the shore. To say that nuclear war happens because we didn't know any better is just as bad as saying slavery happened because we didn't know any better.

The civil rights connections are another key piece missing from the puzzle. First of all, there are tons of references to it in the original franchise. In the first film, Taylor is sprayed with a fire hose, a sight that people in 1968 would've been seeing on the nightly news. He is denied the rights to a trial, his buddies are experimented on or stuffed and put on display in a museum, all things that people were becoming aware of. Lynch mobs, the Tuskegee Experiment, the thousands of bodies put on display in American museums without proper burial.

In the 1974 TV show, the first episode has a kid ask why they can't let the humans know about the spaceship. His father says, "because humans know their place! If they knew others could build a thing like this, it would ruin everything! They might think they're equal!" "But father, these humans are obviously better than we are--" The kid is smacked around, "Never say such a thing again!" You have people thinking about zero-sum equality now, still thinking that if someone gains equality, someone else loses it.

Something established in the book and the third movie is that the apes did not become sapient by accident. The humans knowingly and deliberately wanted slave labor, and so they altered the apes to create that labor. Conquest makes this explicit, with a black man showing sympathy for obvious reasons. There are obvious commentaries on human slave labor, and the resulting righteous anger. It is unrelated to the nuclear war, and it is not human arrogance or hubris that does it. It is the result of an inherently selfish desire.

The story is not that apes or humans are better, it is that treating people badly is wrong. We have always known slave labor is wrong. Slave revolts date back thousands of years. Spartacus was the Third Servile Rebellion. Yet people do it anyway. We know it is just as wrong as nuclear war. Oppenheimer cursed what he did. The first anti-nuclear war books came out in the late 40s and early 50s. Yet we still built thousands of bombs and people to this day expect there to be a winnable nuclear war.

So, the new movies decide to cut out all the civil rights aspects, and replace the nuclear war with a virus. Okay, do they try and replace it? No, not really. One can argue they are trying to say that apes are better than us, or that humans are better. And neither works.

Their "replacement" is insulting, and undermines the entire situation emotionally. The apes are accidentally created by something really selfless, an Alzheimer's cure, that accidentally spreads a plague. Everything is entirely by accident, and by stupidity. One might even go so far as to say it is racist, bigoted, and defends pro-colonizer sentiments. It depicts the entire situation as an accident, a buffoonish mess caused by people who were so stupid they didn't realize that coughing up blood on someone was bad.

I once had a professor say that the empires Europe built across the world were by accident. "Oh, whoops, we were just biting off a little territory at a time, we didn't mean to cause this!" He also asked who gets up in the morning to oppress people. This was wrong. The truth is that there are those who think it is their right. Europe knew exactly what they were doing while they conquered half the globe. This is what it feels like, like that professor wrote this. It removes all culpability from the humans, and blames science, rather than our own flaws. It insists that trying to cure a terrifying and ugly disease is wrong, and that we deserve to die for that. At the same time it insists that it was all an accident, no one is really to blame. You can't claim the apes are oppressed in the same way because they didn't know they were sapient! That is not only stupid, it undermines the entire concept of slavery within the story, that enslaving people is bad. Because slavery is not an accident. By making it all an accident, it makes it feel like it was written by the people in Get Out. It doesn't say that all slavery is by accident, it echoes the sentiments of its defenders.

By portraying the apes as seemingly better, it undermines the point. Taylor in the original says that "it seems some apes are more equal than others". For all their vaunted superiority over humanity, they are just as vulnerable to our same flaws. The point is that being cruel is bad.

Did I mention the guy running the company that made the Alzheimer's cure is black? And there are pretty much no other black actors in the new franchise, compared to the two named and heroic black characters in the original franchise. I know, I know, it's not great even by comparison. When a 70s series is beating you out for positive black representation, while you have none, that says a lot about your franchise.

You can't just swap out one disaster for another with a franchise that relies on the disaster being human made, and not accidental! The only acceptable alternative in this case would be deliberate germ warfare. The point of the original series is that we did this to ourselves. Nuclear weapons are bad, and they are not the result of a mistake, or an accident. Slavery is bad, and exploiting people deliberately is wrong.

Beneath the Planet of the Apes is the darkest ending in the entire franchise. An old doomsday bomb goes off, and wipes out Earth. We hear a narrator say "In one of the countless billions of galaxies in the universe lies a medium-sized star. And one of its satellites, a green and insignificant planet, is now dead."

The problem does not lie in humanity, or in apes. The problem lies in the concepts of war, cruelty, hatred, and selfishness.

#planet of the apes #rise of the planet of the apes

3 notes · View notes

creepypasta-archive · 2 years ago

Text

Jeff the Killer (what came after)

by Misbegotten Misfit

Another recovered story from fanfiction.net. The title is not the original one (it was just "Jeff the Killer")

Some interestinG attempt to continue where the OG story stopped, giving extra development to Jeff and layering some conflict into his origins and conversion. Worth adding to your lore if you so care about it

CW// blood, murder, eyelid mutilation mention, bladeplay, impalement, panic attack

Click below to read the original unedited story

Author: Not a real chapter guys... Just some info and stuff.

Case File Information: Jeff The Killer

Full Name: Jeffery Alan Woods Gender: Male Nick Names: Jeff, Jeffy, Jeff The Killer Age: 13 years Height: 5''6' Birthday: June 2nd Zodiac Sign: Gemini Ethnicity: Caucasian Species: Homo Sapien Favorite Color(s): Crimson Mentor: Slenderman Mother: Margaret (deceased) Father: Peter (deceased) Sibling(s): Liu ? Woods (deceased) Personality: Humorous, playful, can be very mentally unstable at times, but is very protective, shy Phobias: n/a Weapon Choice: His kitchen knife Short Bio: Jeffery started off as a normal kid with two parents and a brother. His father got a promotion so the family moved to a different neighborhood. On his first day of school there he and his brother were attacked by a group of kids and Jeff beat them up, feeling excited and happy the rest of the day for what he'd done. Unfortunately the police came because the fight had been reported and Liu took the blame and went to prison. Later Jeff and his parents attended the birthday party of their neighbor's kid. Jeff went begrudgingly. While there he was once again attacked by the group of kids from before, but this time they had guns. He fought them again, but this time his sanity snapped for good and he killed the kids. In the process he was covered in bleach and set on fire, landing him in the hospital. Liu was released from prison and the family was there when Jeff got out of the hospital. The bleach had made his face pure white and his lips red. The doctor let Jeff go, not realizing the boy went insane and that night Jeff cut his lips into a permanent smile and burnt off his eyelids. His mother saw this and when to tell his father. Jeff followed her and killed them both then killed his brother after telling him to, "Go to sleep". Disabilities: He has no eyelids, so a number of problems could arise from that.

Addictions: murder

Married: No In a Relationship: No Crush: n/a

Author: Ok. Here's the actually story.

At 4:30 in the morning the police received a call about loud screams coming from a house near the caller. These screams seemed to have frightened the woman, but she had gone over to see if everything was alright, but nobody had answered the door. The police had been getting more calls that neighborhood in the last months, and they were getting tired of it. The police officer, Kathryn Avery, told the woman to remain calm and they would send officers to the home to investigate.

At 5:00 the officers got there and knocked on the front door. Nobody answered, so they kicked it in. The two officers that responded to the call made their way through the house. They began upstairs, each one checking a different room. The first room was empty, probably the guest room. Avery checked the next room but gasped and stumbled back when she saw the gruesome scene. Two people, a man and a woman, most likely husband and wife, lay on the floor, dead. The woman had a stab wound in her chest, leaking blood all over the ground, into her hair, and staining her nightgown. The man also appeared to have been brutally murdered. She backs out of the room slowly and turns to her partner, William Martin, and said, "Martin, I think I got something."

Officer Martin nodded and replied, "Yeah… Me too."

Avery went to see what her partner meant. Her hand shot to her mouth and her eyes went wide when she looked through the door. A teenage boy lay completely still in his bed, his sheets tangled around him and his eyes closed. The boy had a stab wound through his heart and was lying in a pool of his own blood. The sheets were drenched in the stuff and crimson dripped off the fingers that hung over the side of the bed, a puddle forming on the floor. The officers regretted not getting there more quickly.

Avery shook herself and said, "I'm going to call for back up, you see if there's anybody else in the house."

Martin nodded and headed downstairs. The other rooms were clear. No blood, nothing out of place. Avery caught up with him when he got to the living room. Peering through the doorway, he saw a body lying on the couch. Its chest rose and fell softly with each breath. Martin quickly got back and readied his gun, "I think that may be the killer."

Avery got hers out as well, and the two cautiously entered the room, guns aimed at the small figure. Avery arched an eyebrow, creeping closer. She gestured to him to lower his weapon, putting her own down. She looked back at Martin and explained, "It's just a kid."

Martin gets closer to the body and says, "Well, he's alive at least… but god, what happened to him?"

A black sleeping mask covered the teen's eyes, but the rest of his face was clearly visible. His skin was pure white, which was a contrast to the black mid-length hair that hung from his head and the crimson lips. The boy's mouth, Martin noticed, had cuts extending from the corners of his lips up into a permanent smile that was still slightly bleeding. His white hoodie was stained in blood. Martin moved the kid's hair out of the way to get a better look at the cuts, and this caused him to stir. Martin jumped back and Avery shushed him. She kneeled down to look the boy's level and said in a soft tone, "Hey… Are you awake?"

The child propped himself up on his elbow and used his other hand to lift part of the mask up, revealing his left eye. Avery's eyes widened, but she did not gasp. She must keep her composure in front of civilians. The eye that looked back at her was open wide, like he was startled, and rimmed in black. The iris itself was a pale blue color, nearly white. He looked at her and asked, "What happened?"

Sirens wailed outside and blue and red lights could be seen through the window. The backup had arrived. Martin said, "I'm gonna go tell them what's going on and see if we can't get a medic in here."

Avery nodded and turned back to the confused teen and said, "Everything's going to be alright."

A team of ambulances was called and arrived on the scene as the police put up caution tape around the perimeter of the yard. The team of paramedics that was already there was examining the one living person that was left in the house. Avery stood next to him as the boy sat on a stretcher that was next to the ambulance. The nurse shook her head and Avery asked her what was wrong.

She replied by saying, "This poor kid… His eyelids were burnt off."

The kid looked from the paramedic to the police officer, obviously not understanding what was going on.

"Does he remember anything?" Avery inquired.

The nurse shook her head, "No. Not a thing."

"You should get him to the hospital. Treat those wounds."

Avery walked away as they got the boy in the ambulance and sped off to the hospital. She approached a few officers looking over files and papers and asked, "So what do we have?"

One of them handed her a paper and said, "It was a family: Margaret, Peter, and their two sons, Jeffery and Liu. They moved here not too long ago when the father got a promotion. The older of the two boys, Liu, went to juvenile detention for attacking a group of kids, but it was later found out that he was innocent. The kids that made the report were the attackers and went after the younger brother when the family went to their neighbor's birthday party."

Another of the cops chimed in, "Yeah. The little psychos stormed in with guns and knives and attacked the guy. Some of the brats were killed in the fight. The poor kid they attacked they ended up setting on fire and landing him in the hospital."

The first one nodded and added, "That kid's been through a lot. I'm surprised he managed to survive that ordeal, let alone this one. I wonder why the murderer killed the rest of the family but let him live…"

At the hospital Jeff sat in the room they assigned him. It was the same room he was in yesterday. It felt like ages ago. He sat there, staring blankly at the wall. Yes, his body was present, but his mind was someplace else. It was there, trying to remember what happened last night. Everything remained blurred no matter how much he tried to remember. The blurred figures of his family and red everywhere was all he could see.

A woman knocked on the door frame, shaking him from his thoughts. He turned to look at the invader and saw it was the officer from his home, Avery. She took a cautious step into the room and said, "Jeffery?"

"Jeff." He said in response.

She nodded and continued, "Jeff. I'm sure you know by now that your family…"

Her voice trailed off and she took a seat in the chair near his bed. Before continuing she laced her finger and rested her chin on them, "… your family, they're dead, Jeff. That means they're not coming back. You understand that, don't you?"

Jeff nodded, "yeah…"

Avery became sad at the look on his face, but she kept explaining, "You can't go back home anymore… We have to find you a new home… Is that ok?"

Jeff paused for a long time, thinking things over. Finally he nodded. Avery told him child services would take him to a foster home tomorrow and she wished him luck before leaving.

Sure enough, a man came from child services the next day. He wore a suit and tie, typical of professional people that want to look important. He stood outside Jeff's room talking to the doctors for about a half hour and remained outside the door for another few minutes, looking at the marred boy and studying him, before entering. Jeff knew he was there, but wasn't all too interested in him, so he'd continued absently staring at the wall until the social worker entered. Even then Jeff glanced at him for a moment then went back to what he was doing. The social worker, for his part, put on a smile when he came in the room and sat on the chair near the bed. He set his briefcase down on his lap and spoke in a tone that would be perceived as happy, "Hello, Jeffery! It's nice to meet you! I'm Mr. Johnson and I'll be your social worker."

He waited for Jeff to respond and when he didn't Johnson turned to face the wall as well and said, "That wall is lovely."

At this Jeff looked over at the man, only turning his head slightly. Johnson smiled back at him and said, "Hello, Jeffery."

Jeff looked down at his hands and said, his voice barely a whisper, "Jeff."

"What was that?" Johnson asked.

"Most people call me Jeff." He said again, a little more loudly.

The man smiled, "Well, Jeff, I'm Mr. Johnson. I'll be taking you to your new home today!"

"Do we have to go?"

"Of course! I'll be fine, don't worry."

Johnson stood up and walked to the door. He told Jeff, "A nurse will bring your clothes by and we'll be on our way."

Fifteen minutes later Jeff was dressed in the same black pants and white hoodie, now once again cleaned of blood, he had entered the hospital wearing and he was seated in the back of Johnson's car. They were only just pulling out of the parking lot as Jeff watched the strange case worker punch in coordinates on the car's GPS navigation. It said the place they were headed was two towns over. Most of the car ride passed in silence, with Jeff staring out the window at passing scenery. He watched the rows of houses and businesses morph into countryside and fields then into looming skyscrapers. At one point Johnson asked if Jeff was hungry and he said yes, so they stopped at a Casey's and picked up a few things to eat before heading out again. Johnson was surprised at how quiet Jeff was and how shy he seemed.

They finally arrived at a large house on the edge of a small town and pulled into the driveway. The GPS indicated that they had reached their destination. Johnson looked back at Jeff and said, "It's ok. They're a really nice couple that has been taking foster kids for years. I'm sure you'll get along just fine."

Jeff looked at Johnson, not completely sure if he believed him or not, but slipped out of the car when the man did and followed him to the front door. As they stood there waiting for the couple to answer Jeff caught his reflection in the glass. He stared at it sadly wondering what they would think. 'What happened to me?' he asked himself, but no answer was presented by his mind. At that moment he got a feeling, one that was all too familiar. It was the same way he felt when he beat up Randy and his goons, but this time he felt like lashing out at himself. Jeff shook his head, trying not to think about it.

After what seemed like ages to Jeff, but in actuality was only a few minutes, a woman answered the door. She smiled softly at them and said, "Come in."

This woman was friendly and led them to the large living room. Her hair was a dish-water blond and was beginning to grey. In the room a man sat in a chair by the couch. He was well tall and lean; his hair was black with hints of grey and he was reading a news paper. When the two guests entered the room he put the paper down and the woman took a seat in another chair, gesturing to the two to sit on the couch. The man looked the boy in his living room up and down, studying him. His eyes eventually settled on the teen's and he said, "You wearin' makeup, boy? You know, eyeliner's for girls."

The man's tone wasn't rude, just curious. Jeff rubbed his arm and stared down at the floor. He spoke in a voice that was just barely audible, "Um… no. It's kinda… permanent…"

Johnson put his hand on Jeff's shoulder and led him over to the couch. They sat down and his case worker began explaining. Jeff hugged his knees and tried not to focus on the conversation. He didn't want to hear about his family again. The couple looked at Jeff sadly while listening to what Johnson had to say. The man felt bad about his question after hearing about the boy's condition.

"Jeff?"

He looked up at the woman. She continued, "My name's Ellen, and this is my husband, Carl. I'm very sorry about what happened. You're welcome to stay here as long as you'd like."

Jeff nodded and said, "Thank you."

Johnson left and Ellen showed him to his new room. For the next couple days things were very quiet. Jeff hardly left his room. When he did he'd never be gone for very long and never went outside. On the third day of him staying there Ellen and Carl took him to the store in town because all he had was the outfit he came in. They bought him some jeans, some t-shirts, and a few hoodies. People looked at him oddly while he was in town. Some people just assumed he was an emo kid, but others wondered what happened to him. He turned started down at his feet and pretended not to notice, all the while feeling their eyes on him. That feeling came back again, burning inside of him. He tried to ignore it, but it seemed to be getting stronger.

When they got back to the house he stayed inside. That feeling always stayed at the back of his mind.

It was another week of quiet. Every night Jeff had terrifying dreams of himself murdering his own family and would wake up in a cold sweat, crying. It was a Saturday night when he woke up around midnight. That feeling was there and it was strong. His body felt weak after his nightmare. Slowly, Jeff made his way to the bathroom. When he got there he threw up, a bitter taste left in his mouth afterward. He washed out his mouth over the sink and looked up at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand along the cuts on his face and a stream of tears began to fall from his eyes. Suddenly and image flashed through his mind, a scene.

He was in his bathroom at home, blood all over the place and a knife in his hands. Jeff used the knife that he got from his kitchen to cut lines into his cheeks, making it look as though he had a permanent smile. His mother opened the bathroom door and…

This scene startled him and he step back, running into the wall and falling to a sitting position on the ground. The small shelf on the wall shook with the impact on the wall and various plastic bottles fell to the floor. Surprisingly none of them came open. This, though, reminded Jeff of the fight with Randy and his friends, when they were in the bathroom and the bleach fell on them.

He hurriedly stood up on shaky legs and left the room. The feeling he had grew inside him as he began to remember what had happened the night he came home from the hospital. He walked down the hall, leaning on the wall for support. Another flashback hit him and Jeff fell to his hands and knees on the soft carpet.

"Aren't I beautiful, Mommy?" he asked his mother.

Her face showed her fear as she looked at her son who had gone mad. She nodded slowly, beginning to back out of the room and said, "Y-Yes, son. J-Just let me g-go get Daddy… So he can s-see your face…"

She continued to slowly back out of the room until she was out of view, then she began running to wake her husband. Jeff followed her and heard her say as he reached the doorway of his parent's room, "Honey, wake up! Get the gun! We-"

She had lied to him. She hadn't meant what she said at all. The feeling became overpowering and he said, "You lied, Mommy." Before lunging at her with the knife he'd brought with him, killing her. Out of anger he killed his father as well. If she had been lying then Daddy could have been lying to him all along too. What about Liu…? He crept into his brother's room and saw him asleep. For moment he stared at him, sleeping peacefully in his bed. He had no idea what had happened or what was about to happen. The feeling subsided in that moment…

Liu wasn't his enemy, he was his brother. Liu opened his eyes slowly and looked at Jeff. His eyes widened. Just like that the feeling took over again and Jeff put his hand over Liu's mouth and pressed the blade to his chest. Liu thrashed and fought, but it was no use. Jeff spoke only three words, "Go to sleep."

Jeff picked himself up off the floor, shaking. He took in a few deep, ragged, shuttering breathes and leaned against the wall. The feeling burned inside him, making his stomach turn over and his insides hurt. He leaned there for a moment before returning to his room. When he got there he changed into his black pants and white hoodie, all the while struggling in his mind to keep his grip on reality. Now that his memories were free his madness was beginning to take over once more and he needed to get out of there before he hurt somebody. He didn't bother packing anything as he slipped downstairs to the kitchen. He stopped. The knives sat in their holder on the kitchen counter. He walked toward them and stared at them, fighting with himself as to what to do. Part of him wanted to run away from the house and the nice couple that lived there to keep them safe from… from him. The other part wanted nothing more than to take these knives and shove them into Ellen and Carl's hearts and twist them until the beating stopped.

He extended his hand out to the knives and ran his fingers along the handles. Jeff carefully pulled one from its sheath, observing the way it shined in the moonlight that filtered through the kitchen window. Then he heard footsteps upstairs and a feminine voice call out, "Jeff? Sweetie, are you alright?"

He lowered the knife to his side and stood there a moment, thinking about what to do. The urge to kill the kind lady was becoming unbearable. The footsteps got closer and the last remaining sane part of his mind won out over the madness. He pocketed the knife and bolted out the kitchen door.

Jeff continued to run until he got to the town. That sane part of his mind that had made him run was eaten alive by the feeling. He hid in an alley and waited for somebody to walk by. The town was small, so less people were out at than in the city. Eventually a young couple walked by, chatting about something when the saw Jeff sitting against the brick wall in the alley. The guy, followed by his girlfriend, walked over to him and asked, "You ok, man?"

Jeff let out an insane laugh and said, "Yeah, I'm alright, but it's late. Don't you think it's about time you… GO TO SLEEP?"

The guy took a step back as Jeff stood and pulled the knife out of his pocket. His girlfriend stood ducking behind him, scared. They backed up slowly as Jeff advanced and were about to turn and run when he swung the knife, cutting the guy's throat. Blood sprayed all over him, the walls and the ground, creating a gruesome masterpiece. It wasn't finished yet though. The boyfriend fell backward, pinning the girl under him. She flailed and kicked and began to cry. Jeff step up to her and she tried throwing the rocks on the ground at him, but missed with every throw. He plunged his knife downward, stabbing her in the head, small flecks of her blood splattering onto his face.

He put the weapon back in his pocket and licked the blood off his fingers. He let out a quiet, deep laugh that soon rang out through the night, sounding psychotic and maniacal. Jeff took the money they had on them and the girl's cell phone.

He walked down the street away from the scene, using the phone to call a cab. Ten minutes later the taxi arrived and he climbed in the back seat. The guy looked back at him and said, "Whoa. Looks like you were in one heck of a fight!"

Jeff laughed softly and said, "Yes. It does, doesn't it?"

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #jtk #fanfiction #horror #story

3 notes · View notes

leam1983 · 2 years ago

Video

I just love the absurdity of runner birds, personally - like cassowaries and ostritches. Elton John-looking fuckers that look like they're on their way to the Folies Bergères for a round of Cancan - and they can kick almost as hard as a horse. You do not want to be on a cassowary's bad side, it will fuck you up six ways to Sunday and does not give a shit about your opposable thumbs, you silly Homo Sapiens Sapiens.

"I've got a gun!"

"That's cute, ask the Australians how well their campaign against invasive emu flocks went."

Creature of the Night:

“Feathered Dinosaurs aren’t scary,” is false, it’s about how it is presented and nothing is more terrifying than a bitter truth.

by Jayson Duria/WobblyWorks

#fucking birds man #borbs

36K notes · View notes

youowngirliegirl · 8 months ago

Text

5 Intellectual Books to Stimulate Your Mind

In a world overflowing with information, taking the time to engage with deep, thought-provoking literature can be incredibly rewarding. Intellectual books offer us not just knowledge, but also the tools to think critically about the world around us. Here are five essential reads that promise to challenge your mind and expand your understanding across various domains:

1. "Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind" by Yuval Noah Harari

Yuval Noah Harari's "Sapiens" is a sweeping narrative that chronicles the history of our species from the earliest days to the present. Harari explores how Homo sapiens came to dominate the world, examining pivotal moments such as the Cognitive Revolution, the Agricultural Revolution, and the unification of humankind through money, empires, and religions. By delving into these profound transformations, Harari provides a compelling account of how our species has shaped and been shaped by the environment.

2. "Thinking, Fast and Slow" by Daniel Kahneman

In "Thinking, Fast and Slow," Nobel Prize-winning psychologist Daniel Kahneman takes readers on a tour of the mind and the two systems that drive our thinking. The first system is fast, intuitive, and emotional; the second is slower, more deliberative, and more logical. Kahneman's research unveils the biases and heuristics that influence our decisions, often leading us astray. This book not only enriches our understanding of human cognition but also offers practical insights into improving decision-making processes in everyday life.

3. "The Republic" by Plato

Plato’s "The Republic" is a cornerstone of Western philosophy, exploring fundamental questions about justice, governance, and the role of individuals in society. Through a series of dialogues, Plato introduces the concept of the philosopher-king and presents his vision of an ideal state. The book’s famous allegory of the cave illustrates the philosopher's journey from ignorance to enlightenment, offering timeless insights into the nature of reality and knowledge. "The Republic" continues to be a vital text for anyone interested in philosophy, politics, and ethics.

4. "Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies" by Jared Diamond

Jared Diamond’s Pulitzer Prize-winning "Guns, Germs, and Steel" examines the environmental and geographical factors that have influenced the trajectories of different societies throughout history. Diamond argues that the disparate outcomes of human societies are not due to racial or biological differences but to environmental conditions that shaped the availability of resources and the diffusion of technology. This book provides a comprehensive framework for understanding the development of civilizations and the forces that drive historical change.

5. "The Structure of Scientific Revolutions" by Thomas S. Kuhn

Thomas S. Kuhn's "The Structure of Scientific Revolutions" revolutionized the way we think about scientific progress. Kuhn argues that science does not progress through a linear accumulation of knowledge but through periodic paradigm shifts, where an existing framework is replaced by a new one that better explains the data. His concepts of "normal science" and "paradigm shifts" have become integral to the philosophy of science, influencing how we understand scientific innovation and its impact on society.

Conclusion

Engaging with intellectual literature is more than just an academic exercise; it's an opportunity to broaden our horizons and deepen our understanding of complex issues. The five books highlighted here—ranging from historical and scientific analysis to philosophical inquiry—offer profound insights and challenge us to think more critically about the world. Whether you are an avid reader or looking to expand your intellectual repertoire, these works are sure to provide a rich and stimulating reading experience. So, pick up one of these books, find a quiet corner, and prepare to embark on a journey of intellectual discovery.

0 notes

sublimeobservationarcade · 1 year ago

Text

Plucking Easy Money From The Young Via Cool Tech

Fast Times and Cashless Highs: Technology’s Ode To Debt

“He who is quick to borrow, is slow to pay” - German proverb If you are young you are likely in too much of a hurry to read this and if you are older - can you remember what it was like to be young? Fast times and cashless highs: Technology’s ode to debt makes for thrilling reading. The young are in love with technology and this is a cashless highway to debt for the unwary. I picture a raceway, like Daytona, and lots of youthful racing car drivers revving their engines in anticipation of going around the bend. Young men and women risking life and limb to achieve victory over the slow lane. If you survey the top items on Santa’s gift list this year they will likely be the latest smart phone or high tech device, as they have been for the last decade or more. Humanity is in rapture with the fruits of technology, as we have always been. The Market’s Cut & Thrust Goes High Tech If you look back through history you will see remnants of swords and tools in museums, which were the technological offspring of metallurgy. The evolution from bronze to iron gives rise to the names of the various ages cataloguing historical eras. Of course, swords turned into guns and we all know where that has led us. The printing press, the Gutenberg press revolutionised the world in the fifteenth century and beyond. Books and pamphlets were no longer the exclusive domain of the elites. Ideas and change manifestoes were able to reach a much wider audience affecting shifts in world orders. Now, we have social media and fake news. Currently, we are in the grip of the communication and information zeitgeists and almost every Homo sapiens carries a portable device capable of these things. Touch a screen and ‘hey presto’ instant gratification. “Australians have made big moves away from cash over the past decade, with Reserve Bank of Australia's 2016 consumer payments survey showing only 37 per cent of consumer payments are made in cash today compared to 69 per cent a decade ago.” - (Mitzen, 2018) “According to PwC research, almost half the world’s digital payments in 2017 were made in China, where apps such as Alipay and WeChat Pay let consumers pay for nearly everything with their smartphones. The adoption of QR codes and explosion of e-commerce has led to a decline in the use of cash, particularly in urban China.” - (Hutt, 2019) The Cashless Swipe Into A Debt Trap “Creditors have better memories than debtors.” - Benjamin Franklin Economists will tell you that it is the exchange of produce and money that has enabled the growth of civilisations across the ages. Buying and selling stuff is at the heart of our global domination, according to them. Technology has been in the service of the market since the beginning of time. It is the market which has financed the research and development of technologies across the globe. The young are always the first to embrace new technologies, as they seek harbingers of their own hegemony. Our youthful citizens bear no attachment to a past they did not share. Progress will race across the surface of the earth fleet footed in search of market expediency. It is cool to carry no cash and swipe your phone’s screen, when conducting a transaction, in the twenty first century. The psychology of pixels forming numbers on a screen is very different to the sound and feel of hard currency in your pocket, however. Easy come, easy go, or is it a sense of it never being real in the first place and perhaps, never really having been in your possession? Anyway, things are moving along so rapidly there is no time to waste on philosophical reflection. Fast times and cashless highs: Technology’s ode to debt mounts up like investors in Silicon Valley. Humanity and the market are always in a hurry. There are victims, however, of the ever faster economy driven by technological innovation like cashless payment. Collateral damage, perhaps, as these young lives are corralled by debt cruelling their opportunities for a fulfilling future. Buying a home slips further out of reach of ordinary young Australians each day, it seems. Cont. In Money Matters: Navigating Credit, Debt, & Financial Freedom by Robert Sudha Hamilton Shop now Read the full article

#credit #debt #money #technology

0 notes