Last week, more than 150 Planned Parenthood supporters in Dallas and Fort Worth helped assemble period kits for Texans displaced by Hurricane Harvey. More than 4,000 period kits will be delivered to nonprofits serving Harvey evacuees!
Mr. President how do you feel about the women’s march in
San Luis Obispo
New Smyrna Beach
West Palm Beach
Truth or Consequences
Port Jefferson Station
Corpus Christi, Texas
Salt Lake City
Washington D.C. On your front door
And many, many more
2.6 million people took part in 673 marches in all 50 states and 32 countries, from Belarus to New Zealand.
Dear Mr. President,
Welcome to the revolution, you are not welcome here.
Hi there! I'm hoping to write a story about a woman combat medic, and have multiple questions. I know this is a combat position, and women were only recently accepted to those, so where would she most likely be stationed? Would she spend more time in battles or in hospitals? Are combat medics (68Ws?) more likely to develop PTSD? What are more common positions for women? How easy is it for combat medics, once they leave the military, to become EMTs? Are there any common misconceptions? Thanks!
I always want to provide the best answers here that I can, so I’m thrilled to announce the first guest post of @ginger-wuv, a fantastic female medic who’s graciously agreed to tackle this ask. This is some grade A stuff, so I hope you all enjoy and give Doc Rain some kudos if you like it! -Kingsley
Status: Complete Word Count: 5.4K Category: One-shot; Behind-the-scenes canon-compliant; Baby/The Impala; Life choices; Personal growth
Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): References to familiar people/places Pairing(s): N/A Warnings: Bit o’ sassy language of the four-letter variety, if you’re of a pearl-clutching nature Author’s Note(s): Post-story Overall Summary:Chuck told us a story about Baby’s early days. And we know how she’s spent most of her life helping the Winchesters get to where they need to go. Here’s a little of what happened in between.
Hello, I’m Gone
The Lucchese brothers set out for America from Italy, climbed off a boat in Galveston, Texas in 1882. Enterprising fellows as they were, Sal and Joe already had a nice little thing going, a boot-making shop out at Fort Houston, over in San Antonio, by 1883. Sal was a nut for machinery, really turned his crank - any word he got about something that might rev things up, well, he wanted to be the first to try it.
The Luccheses became known for their hands-on approach, helped by those machines, sure, but only so’s they could give their work a boost. And they refused to cut corners, not even a little. The brothers believed that you should do things right, didn’t matter how busy you got.
Right around the turn of the century, their boots were coming in at around ten bucks. By the early parts of the 1900s, they were around $40 a pop. Then came the Hollywood bandwagon, handfuls of actors showing up wearing the Italian-meets-Western creations as word spread - back in that day, couldn’t just turn on a TV or expect to see ‘em plastered on billboards. Word of mouth and reputation go a hell of a long way.
The singer-songwriters and actual cowboy-types came along. And in the 60s, when style was starting to take a left turn, those boots were still hanging around. Hell, even the White House got in on the action - I’d heard some of the Kennedys got measured and fitted. Johnson, too.
Which, you should. I did. It wasn’t cheap, but worth it. You plan to surround yourself with something, day in and day out, you best make sure it’s a good fit. So I dished out some of the precious savings I’d squirreled away and got two good fits. Just in case I needed to walk.
And I would’ve walked, all the way, if I’d had to. I had 'em for a year, good and broken-in, those dark cherry-red dreams that came almost to my knees. Short legs, short strides, but I was determined.
They’d turned into what I thought were the most important boots - maybe the most important things - in the world. They kept me going, just needed to glance down at them, like they were a talisman. If I believed in that sort of thing.
Still. Funny how things can do that for you, and the people around you can’t. Won’t.
I’d been planning over that year of boot-breaking. To get out. Get gone. Away from that shithole outside Dallas, out of Texas completely. The boots set me back, my waitressing tips and the cash from hocking what little jewelry Momma’d had never quite plugging the hole. Especially when lots of it kept disappearing from my purse, went to his beer and liquor. And his girls on the side.
I stole his piece of garbage truck. I had the spare key, made sense with all the driving I did in it, picking him up from the bars when they’d announced everybody didn’t have to go home, but they couldn’t… well, you know the rest. And sometimes he wouldn’t head home and I’d find him wandering back from a cheap motel along the potholed road that led to the house. His house. His TV. His food. His furniture. His guns.
Stole one of those, too.
The world had sailed into the 70s while I was sailing nowhere. I had nothing to my name but some clothes, my picture of Momma and Daddy the day they got hitched, and my boots. Only brought what I couldn’t do without. A small start, but I figured it was better than nothing.
I still lacked a surefire way to get me where I wanted to go. Wherever that was. Figured I’d know once I got there. I knew the boots would be loyal long as they could, but they weren’t gonna take me all the way. I wasn’t sure what could.
I got a feeling that would change when I spotted that big black dream, parked all lonely in somebody’s yard. A handwritten “FOR SALE BY OWNER” sign was taped inside the back window. It was dirty as all get-out, had a crack in the passenger side window, a bent fender, and one of the back tires needed air in a bad way.
Before Jeffrey Dahmer joined the army, he was trained at Fort Sam Houston. Linda Swisher, his former teacher, claimed that “he was extremely anti-social. He could have been a serial rapist.” During one of his tests, Dahmer was tasked to extract a fake liver from a resuscitation dummy. Swisher recalled him eerily smiling and noticed an “icy stare” in his eyes while he was doing so. Once Dahmer was shipped off to West Germany to join the US army, many peculiar things were reported to have occurred, the most significant one being the disappearance of a German named Hans. Hans had been drinking with Dahmer, and was later found 30 miles from the base with his intestines pulled out. The man’s murder bore a striking resemblance to the killer’s future murders. Dahmer’s roommates also recalled him returning to the base covered in blood multiple times.
underneath the ‘keep reading’ line, you’ll find u r b a n names, cities, events, connections, selected face claims w/ their ethnic backgrounds, plots, and a run-down on what an urban rp is about. like/reblog if this is helpful to you.
Wondering how long your week is really going to be?
Indeed, the battle to top the list of cities with the longest working week is a hard-fought one. Overall, the average working week for large American cities works out at 42.4 hours and this increases to 46.5 when commuting is included.
“I have no idea who wants to see me, which cities to play or which
not to play, I just have a lot of concepts, which I wanna get rid of,
and which I’m getting rid of, like one, when I went to Dallas or
Houston, Texas on the old Beatle tours, I remember both years, one year,
first year, we went to Dallas and we almost got killed. Second year, we
went to Houston, we almost got killed. So my concept of Texas has been
‘wherever, wherever I go, I’m not going to Texas, because they’re all
mad, you know, but I just remembered what happened there, and so I
played, where was it, Fort Worth? And Houston.
And it’s amazing the
change, you know that’s what amazes me the change in the entire 6 years
of people’s consciousness. It;s incredible, I mean it’s like, say four
years ago, five years ago, in San Francisco and Los Angeles. it’s like
that now in Texas. The feeling of the people and the way they look and
the way they act. It’s great! You know, it was one of the really nicest
shows. The shows at Fort Worth were really nice & Houston, I really
(dug) just, I didn’t have any of that old fear I thought I may have.“ - George on conquering old fears from back when he and The Beatles toured Texas and replacing them with great memories, from a (presumably) 20 December
1974 interview while in his hotel room in NYC with KHJ 930 AM Radio,