click on one. then see read more for what it means

Happy birthday, Duane.

lol check out my setup for punching my holes for a 31mm tall book on cords :P

progress :) flathead tweezers worked really well as mini band nippers!!! :D

if tumblr loves anything, it's bitches who are doomed by the narrative. in this uquiz, find out what role are you in the tragic play?

i think as adults it’s our responsibility to be nice to kids and treat them with the respect we wish we got at that age and im not kidding or exaggerating in the least

How To Draw A Horse - a comic by Emma Hunsinger

(Yes these are vulvas, the title of the work is a play on words, The Great Wall of China/Vagina rhymes, Vulva doesn’t.)

Young folks really need to see stuff like this so they don’t think a totally normal part of their bodies has something wrong with it.

You're given two job offers. You can only accept one, and you can't get a second job or a have side hustle.

The first offer is your dream job, your passion project doing what you love, the career you've always wanted more than anything else, the job you would sell your soul to be able to have. However, you will never make enough to support yourself, and you'll be completely reliant on government assistance.

The second offer is to sit in an empty room naked Monday through Friday, eight hours a day. The only details you're given are that you are allowed to bring entertainment, and you get a break for lunch. The job pays one million dollars (or whatever the equivalent would be where you live) per month.

You’ve been sentenced to 400 years for multiple murders. It’s been 399 years and your jailers are starting to get nervous.

I was twenty… twenty-five, I think?… when I was sentenced. Four hundred years was a length of time I couldn’t even imagine. It was a length of time I don’t think anyone could imagine, even the judge. It was just a big showy number that let everyone know I’d never see the light of day again. The mages who cast the spells were dramatic about it, practically shouting the part about ‘until death claims you, or four hundred years hath passed, forsooth, thou shalt be imprisoned here’. They don’t waste that kind of magic on most prisoners, but I was special.

The Slayer, they called me then. The Monster of Sentan. I’d killed nineteen people… I remember that number because I was so furious that they stopped me so close to my goal of twenty-one. And I didn’t just kill ordinary people, no, but the Chosen of the Gods. The Great and Good. They were terrified of me. So they locked me away, to die forgotten.

It had been a little less than a hundred years when the king died without heir, and a civil war tore the country apart. When the fighting was all over, the losers were dragged down to the deepest cells under the castle, and the new king and his soldiers stopped and stared at me. “Who… who is this?” he asked, frowning. “Some victim of the usurper?”

People like cooks and jailers and scrubbers don’t change as easily as kings. The same man who’d been bringing me my meals since there was still brown in his hair and beard shuffled forward, hunched and grey now. “No, yer majesty,” he said humbly. “That be a special prisoner, from before the old king died.”

“Special? Special how?” He frowned, moving closer to my cell. “The old king died more than ten years ago. This woman must have been a child then. What could she have done to - “

“Don’t get too close, yer majesty,” the old man said sharply. “That’s the Monster of Sentan… an’ she bites.”

That was true. I do bite.

Keep reading

“I was a police officer for nearly ten years and I was a bastard. We all were.

“This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

“But enough is enough.

“The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

“American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

Read the full article here.

Via medium.com

read this read this read this read this read this read this read this

Read this. In its entirety.

please read this article. and share it with your dumbass facebook relatives who always want to “see both sides”, because here it is straight from a pig’s mouth

Since Medium is a bitch and only gives you a certain number of free articles, here’s this article as a pdf with the links at the end included.

there IS actually a reason why seconds and minutes (and degrees for geometry) are in base 60 instead of base 10, and if you want to blame someone for that, blame the very specific way Babylonians counted with their fingers.

The way Babylonians finger-counted was by using their thumb to tap each phalange of the fingers in the same hand the thumb was in, in the order of proximal to distal phalanges and index finger to pinky finger (for a total of 12 taps), and lifting a finger on the other hand every time they counted up to 12, resulting in each finger in the second hand representing 12 taps, with 5 fingers representing... 60 taps.

thats actually spot on.

yes. a gross is defined as 12 dozens.

From The Art of Paper Craft by Helen Hiebert

Me: there’s nothing wrong with erhua

Dongbei dashu: 菜儿

Me: maybe we can we can afford to hit the brerks a lilr

SORRY. hurt tha brooks a lur