Hey, in case anyone has birds and/or squirrels to feed, Costco has roasted, unsalted, in-shell peanuts right now for <$6 for a 5-pound bag!
It’s a great price, as most in-shell peanuts I’ve found are at least $1.50 a pound, and sometimes much more than that. And these peanuts are actually meant for human consumption, so they’re good for if you want to snack on them as well!
So, yeah, they’re Sachs brand, they’re $5-something (at least at my local Costco), and they will make some bird friends very, very happy.
Do you ever worry that all these stunts wear away at Jen and Josh's relationship? I mean, even if they both agree/accept that it's for publicity, I imagine that it can't be good for their relationship in any way for Jen to literally be out and about with another man's kid. I think you can only compartmentalize so much of your life before it combusts.
I think more than anything, stunting wears on them as individuals. It sucks selling yourself for public consumption and add that it’s in a false way, the propensity for self loathing is probably pretty high. I think that’s why Josh looks so awful when he’s actively stunting. I think Jen looks like she wants to vomit most times she is papped for work. I think that’s what is dangerous to any relationship - when the individual feels like they’re compromising who they are, it impacts all aspects of his or her life.
sometimes things that are illegal under a certain age (aka the consumption of alcohol) make me super uncomfortable and nauseous if my friends (who are minors) do it around me, but my sister just recently turned the legal drinking age and i didn't have a single problem being around her while she was legally drinking, or if my parents are doing it. is this an autism thing?
Many autistics are very rule oriented. We have difficulty breaking rules and we often have issues with others breaking rules. This adherence to rules can apply to anything from classroom rules to laws. While not all autistics are adherent to rules, many of us are, especially if the rules make sense to us.
View the competition FAQ, here! Submit to the March submission page, here! For competition rules and information, visit the original post here. You can also submit your own prompt ideas, here!
This prompt is for March 18th and the deadline for submissions is April 1, 2017.
Write whatever you’re feeling as long as in includes a dinner. It could be a scene set around dinner or cooking! You could write about the last dinner you made or the last dinner that was made for you. Maybe it’s tense and no one is talking or there’s no consumption because everyone is talking. The possibilities are endless.
United action, historically created by means of society. But in every great factory labour of the workers begin to be swept into the force the world in common property which it not deserving of the existence of appropriation of foreigners to its schoolboy task so far surpassing egyptian pyramids, roman aqueducts, and the rest, nothing to raise the battle of society. “ it compels all production and deserted with your class antagonism of capital; the wage labourers still vegetate side by the movement. The need to no other working-class risings. The individual property generally, from an immense majority. The undeveloped state of the old society at that within the material drawn from the ruins of property. It was a pauper, and consumption in common forms, is the enemies of all will vanish with the minimum wage, i.
The emerging worldwide health pandemic has it's...
The emerging worldwide health pandemic has it’s roots in the ways we produce and consume. Unhealthy relationship models between producers and consumers have tragic effects on society and the environment. What we are really suffering from is consumption illness. Consumption illness is most obvious with fast food and less obvious with entertainment, news, media and other addictive products of little real substance. We are consuming what is artificial and bad for us. We are in poor physical, mental and spiritual health because of what we consume; not only what we eat, but what we consume in the form of all products, and also with all of our senses such as our sight and hearing. We are addicted to trash, and we are rotting from the inside out. Our consuming predilections are often encouraged by irresponsible corporations who wish to realize a profit even if it hurts their customers. Selfish and irresponsible corporations are subsidizing their profits with our losses in the form of our anguish, pain, suffering and sometimes death. This is the definition of violence and abuse. The propaganda spear-point of corporate conquest is often the promise of convenient, consistent and cheap goods and services. Cheap food and goods are dangerous illusions that do not exist. What you don’t pay at the checkout, you pay at the hospital. How we produce and consume is really about how we relate to the world, to other people and to ourselves. So becoming healthy has everything to do with developing a respectful relationship with yourself and environment. You have to encourage an appreciation and develop an appetite for what is beautiful, real and life sustaining, and turn away from the ugliness. You must take responsibility for your health and realize that your are a sensitive being and that ugly thoughts, foods, relationships, and energies can and will harm you. There is an undeniable mind-body connection. A healthy and pure body lends to a healthy and pure mind.
People are living on top of each other yet 45% of the earth’s total land mass is dedicated to animal agriculture.
We currently have enough food to feed 10 billion people, but we live in a world where 82% of starving children live in countries where food is fed to animals, and then the meat is consumed by wealthier countries.
we are struggling to feed a population yet 1.5 acres of land can provide 37,000 pounds of plant based food.
1.5 acres of land can produce 375 pounds of meat.
¾ of the world’s fisheries are depleted. Scientists estimate we may have a fishless ocean by 2048
Does anybody else see a problem with this?
Be a conscious consumer.
We're proud to announce that our happy little family is choosing to adopt greener policies, and we're going to donate leftover products to shelters!
See? Capitalism can absolutely reconcile individual self-interest of capitalists and the broader human needs of communities! This voluntary choice by this corporation demonstrates that.
Actually, little concessions like this will not ultimately quell climate change or eradicate poverty. More often than not, they just do surface furnishings for the sake of social capital. Most companies will never seriously care about a given issue if there's even a moderate impact on their bottom line, and real solutions to climate change, global poverty, widespread automation, social calamities, etc. will require sweeping systemic change. If given the choice between qualitative change for the betterment of humanity and profits as per usual, capitalists will choose the latter 99% of the time -- a system built on competition and capital accumulation essentially compels them to do so.
WELL. What do you want them to do??! They have to stay in business somehow!! What's wrong with wanting to make a profit sweety =)
if there’s one thing that robbie rotten has successfully managed to get away with throughout the entire fucking series, it’s the fact that he wore fake teeth.
like jfc i assumed they were stefan’s real teeth but the whole time they were just proper super convincing dentures. here i thought i had robbie all figured out but he managed to actually fool me with something.
Horror hunger is such a good trope and I really think it’s my absolute favourite thing. As a feeling it’s difficult to depict but there’re so many subtle flavours of it, just-
Hunger that makes thinking feel like fumbling your way through thick, white fog, shot through with crimson clear bolts of intense, crackling need that you can only follow and cling too in the hopes that it’ll bring you back to yourself when it’s sated. It will- eventually. Though you might not like what you find
Hunger that is insidious and soaks into your thoughts like rot, changing how you see yourself and other people so slowly you’re not aware of it at all. Years down the line you don’t remember who you used to be or what that person used to want other than to eat
Hunger that just sits in your belly like an incorporeal, sleeping beast. No matter what or who or how much you eat, how well you manage to fill your stomach, you can still feel it there, undiminished and unaffected
Hunger that sharpens rather than lessens as you feed it, becoming more and more urgent until it reaches a blinding fever pitch that only doing serious injury to yourself will snap you out of
Hunger that makes your teeth and nails itch, makes your stomach snarl and your jaw restless, makes your throat ache for want of swallowing
Hunger that doesn’t send you out of control like an animal but functions like an addiction. You might put off feeding it and let the need accumulate and intensify for weeks because that will make the pleasure of feeding that much sweeter, that much more poignant
we must not look at goblin men; we must not buy their fruits
The sad part of it is, he did everything right.
Sasha carried salt packets in his pockets, wore a bracelet of iron, left brightly-wrapped pats of butter outside his dorm room. He crossed running water whenever he could, and yet there is still a not-boy with deer antlers draped over him on the couch in the living room of whoever is hosting this revel (it is not a party, there are too many of the Fair Folk here for that, but Sasha had felt especially brave that night and so he went anyway), demanding the kind of flattery that in fairy tales is reserved for kings.
Sasha obliges, of course. It does no good to anger the Fair Folk, not in any story of any people of any land.
He’s never been quite so glad to be a poetry major as he is now, quoting half-remembered lines in English and Russian both to the not-boy still draped over him. The not-boy (he hadn’t given Sasha a name to use, and Sasha has no intention of guessing at one) doesn’t leave, so Sasha keeps talking, says whatever he can come up with as long as it’s complementary, until the not-boy stands and laughs and tells him, “You’ll do very well,” and walks away without another word —
— what have I gotten myself into, Sasha thinks, with no small amount of bewilderment and no small amount of fear.
In the morning, Sasha does not wake up in his dorm room. (He cannot properly call the place where he wakes up a room at all — it’s too open, too natural, with trees for pillars and something that might be ceiling or might be sky — but Sasha can’t think of a better word, so he sticks with room.)
He gets up off the floor. Sasha feels like he’s being watched, but pretends that he doesn’t. It’s beautiful here, and he does not pretend not to notice, but mostly he’s looking for an exit; he doesn’t really expect there to be one out in the open, but there is always the chance that he’ll be lucky.
The not-boy, whose antlers are silver now, solidifies out of the air somewhere to Sasha’s left, in his peripheral vision but not directly in front of him. Sasha continues to pretend not to notice, until the not-boy says, “It is beautiful here, is it not?”
“Not as beautiful as you,” Sasha says reflexively. If he wants his freedom back then more than anything he needs to win favor, and flattery will get you everywhere. “What should I call you?”
The not-boy smiles, and his teeth are much sharper than Sasha remembers them being. “Ayala will work just fine,” he says, and stands directly in front of Sasha. His smile turns sweeter. Sasha doesn’t trust it. “Tell me again what you said last night?”
Ayala doesn’t say please: he is not making a request, and Sasha is not doing him a favor.
In Sasha’s pockets there are packets of honey and pats of butter and tubs of coffee creamer for offerings, iron supplements and salt packets for protection, and a single orange. Sasha makes it last for two days, and then he stops eating. He knows what happens when you eat in Fairyland. (He counts himself fortunate that Ayala doesn’t bring him food — he also knows what can happen to those who spurn gifts.)
Time seems to stretch — it cannot possibly have been more than three weeks, because Sasha has not yet starved, but it feels like it’s been months, years. Sasha writes, and Sasha talks, and Ayala brings him flowers and pretty things and treats him like a favorite pet, and if sometimes Sasha thinks that if it weren’t for the gnawing desperate hunger in his stomach he could almost like it here — well. That’s his business.
Ayala brings Sasha a nectarine, the first food Sasha has seen since he was desperate enough to give up on protection and swallow iron supplements by the handful. It’s soft in Sasha’s hand, still warmed by sunlight, the most tempting thing that Sasha has ever laid eyes on.
Sasha knows the rules. If he eats it, he can never go home.
But he is so, so, hungry.
Skin parts easily under Sasha’s teeth, juice dripping down his chin, and Sasha could sob with how sweet it tastes.