anonymous asked:

How do i convince my mom that it would be a better idea to get a pigeon rather than a parrot? Im not good with words :(

I’m honestly not great with them either.

And I can’t make the decision for her if she wants a parrot. Nor should I, really.

But here are the facts.

There is no genuinely domesticated parrot. Most are only about 5 generations from having been taken from the wild.

They are hyperintelligent, high maintainence, powerful birds who can break or sever fingers with a genuinely sereous bite, and are not misbehaving when they screech and bite. They are just being parrots.

The vast majority of parrot species are adapted to large, gregarious flocks, that range for miles and constantly call out to eachother.

Their beaks are made to crush nuts and splinter wood. Even *trying* to be gentle, bites can hurt or injure without the parrot actually meaning for them to.

They have very complex nutritional needs and even more complex needs for enrichment that the vast majority of himan handlers just aren’t prepared for, and bored, isolated, wild birds with beaks made to crush and splinter are just inherantly destructive.

Puberty is a whole other matter! And the hormonal aggression that crops up then for both sexes can potentially make them

The process of taming a parrot requires that it be imprinted on a human so that it doesn’t mistake its handler for a predator and lash out.

Imprinting does not just mark you as Mommy. You also become that birds ideal mate.

Which means that your parrot is likely to attack your significant other to defend its claim of you and try to insist that you maye with it or find dome way to satisfy its sexual urges.

Cuddling and talking just isn’t all there is to taking good care of a parrot. Their needs are incredibly complex and very, very, VERY difficult for the average person to meet.

And if your mom is prepared for that and able to deal with what amounts to an autistic 5 year old with wings who can scream literally as loud as a jet taking off and bite through a broom handle for the next 60-80 years, then awesome!
More parrots deserve a home that’s actually prepared for them!

(Before any one gets concerned, I am autistic! I do not describe parrots this way as an insult. The similarities are just glaring to me, and if the thought of living with an autistic human child is upsetting, you should really rethink getting a parrot.)

But if not, pigeons are amazing at fitting into human families.
Their social structure is very similar to ours, and they have been bred to live alongside humans since stationary settlements became a thing.

Pigeons have very simple physical needs and are content with very simple toys.

They are strict seed eaters that are simple to feed well. And if fed well, their poo is compact, easily cleaned up, and just AMAZING for plants!

A wire dog kennel can easily be modified to be comfortable for an indoor pigeon without breaking the bank.

They are not physically capable of screeching or even breaking the skin. They can tell you off or let you know they aren’t happy without the possibility of injuring you.
They physically can’t destroy furniture or personal belongings.

Pigeons are also incredibly intelligent. They just can’t talk or solve mechanical puzzles.

But they also have the relative cognitive capacity of a 5 year old human and what they *can* do is learn to genuinely understand an awful lot of spoken english!

They can be house trained, leash trained, even trained for assistance. My feral taught himself to be my stress and illness alert bird!

Pigeons fit so well with human families necause are as completely domesticated as dogs and chickens.

Nobody has to steal and bottle raise puppies to be sure they will be tame and safe to handle.
Because domestication is a physiological, genetic change in the brain and body guided by selective breeding, puppies are born docile and friendly and only need to be socialized to stay frirndly.

Same goes for pigeons.

There are TONS of breeds of pigeons! At least as many as there are dog breeds! With everything from intricate lace patterns to fancy bell bottomed feet to feather crests, bonnets, collars, and big, glorous shawls!

Pigeons are quiet, clever, Sky Puppies that make wonderful family members and are DEFINITELY worth consideration as house pets!

At the store this evening, I learned something new:

I totally don’t get all these new super-specific greeting card themes.

They all seem like such rare circumstances to me.

Friendship Romantic Cheer Get Well cards: 

For when you’ve got a sick friend you kinda want to ask out, but think they’ll need further cheering up if you try.

Milestone Sweetheart Teen cards: 

For when your teenager just took up distance running with their boyfriend/girlfriend, which obviously warrants a greeting card.

Cheer Get Well Miss You Romantic cards: 

For when things didn’t go so well in the relationship, and you need to imply you miss them while under the pretense of just cheering them up.

Wife Grandmother Niece Cousin Aunt and Wife/Husband Grandparents Niece/Nephew Aunt/Uncle Cousin cards: 

For when you have an event and need to send cards to every single family member possible, and want to ensure no one feels left out.

And, most-importantly, 

Wedding Baby Anniversary Thank You Sympathy cards:

For when someone is celebrating the anniversary of them marrying a hyperintelligent baby, and you need to appreciatively congratulate them while simultaneously expressing your condolences that said marriage happened in the first place.

I mean, I’m all for being specific, but it feels like that situation wouldn’t come up that often. 

The Surgeon felt the label “supervillian” was too harsh.

For one thing, “the Surgeon” was clearly not a supervillian name. Surgeons were good. They saved lives. There was a superhero calling himself the Hurricane and hurricanes killed innocent people. Why were people so put off by a name like “the Surgeon?”

And the Surgeon didn’t have henchmen. Plenty of them were women and some didn’t do the gender thing. The Surgeon had henchpeople. Fully unionized, with amazing benefits. The Surgeon took care of her people.

Sure, some of her henchpeople were a little intimidating. She took in folks that couldn’t quite live normally in the civilian world and gave them a job. What was so villainous about that? What exactly were you supposed to do if you were half a body kept alive in an alien suit or a hyperintelligent cyborg cat?

Really, people just needed to get to know some of them. Furnace was positively a sweetheart once you got over the compulsive cackling and the giant claws. And Mecha Pussy was… well she was a bit intense but she meant well. Also she was adorable outside of her mechsuit. But don’t ever tell her that.

And gosh, wasn’t scaring a few corrupt politicians a good thing? Of course, that might have been what prompted that supervillian label now that she thought of it…

Maybe she needed a better PR manager.


“James Spader is one of our finest actors. He is truly eccentric, initially a tiny bit prickly, hyperfocused and hyperintelligent. He carved each character he plays by hand–gaining or losing weight, shaving or growing his hair, and making singular wardrobe choices…. The crew understood he needed his time, and they waited patiently, without speaking, for him to enter the sound stage. He was given every consideration because they had such respect for his work. He never failed them. Every performance was a little masterwork.“

Candice Bergen, “A Fine Romance”

Happy Birthday James T. Spader ( Feb 7th 1960)


If memory serves, fish in very cold ocean water (around 0 C) don’t have hemoglobin because at that temperature oxygen just dissolves into water. I assume their blood is clear.

Hmm so it requires a medium to exist…what if Amanu lived in a very thick miasma? I know they have communities and perhaps the air is unfiltered and in presence of so many god-like hyperintelligent fungi nerve cluster things surrounding them maybe it makes the air thick enough for that to allow to happen? Aaahh not sure

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Update: I’ve had exams for the past two weeks but I finally found time to translate the whole review. If anyone’s interested, this is it:

The fall of ‘Sherlock’

Spoilers, spoilers, spoilers. So, you are warned. Now we can peacefully analyse how our favourite show threw itself off a cliff – waterfall optional.

(Three stars)

“There must be something reassuring about the number three. People always give up after three”, a lying detective says in the middle of the second episode. By the end of this fourth season we were thinking the same thing: if only the makers had given up after three, indeed.

It had nevertheless started so well. Seven years ago, the Arthur Conan Doyle fanboys Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss decided to write their own fanfiction and bring Sherlock Holmes to the modern day. But ‘Sherlock’ was so good that it became too popular. Lead actors Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman became overbooked superstars. Fans had to wait for years for seasons and in the meantime they made up so many potential scenarios that it became increasingly difficult to surprise the viewers. And look: 'Sherlock’ has become a parody, of itself and of… horror movies.

There’s already little good to say about the first episode, 'The Six Thatchers’. The death scene of Mary Watson, where she jumps faster than a bullet in front of Sherlock, is more Hollywood than BBC. Moreover, it’s hard to suddenly feel sympathetic toward a woman who shot Sherlock in the chest two episodes ago and threatened him on his sickbed. And why isn’t it Moriarty, but a plain secretary who gets to kill Mary? (Is it Administrative Professionals’ Day?)

Second episode 'The Lying Detective’ is worth five stars and brings up the average – just like Mrs Hudson. Here, John starts dealing with the death of his wife and eventually the fake suicide of his friend. The idea of the horror house has been done better by American Horror Story, the amnesia drug and the heartwrenching emotionality are Moffat at his best. Moreover, we are genuinely surprised when John’s therapist turns out to be four characters at once, and shoots him.

And with that the cat’s out of the bag: Eurus Holmes, the evil sister we never asked for, but that we got anyway. Because Moffat and Gatiss didn’t know how they could surprise us anymore. 'The Final Problem’, the most self-aware title ever, gives us the ultimate problem: do we engage in that complete madness? Is it a hommage to horror- and Bond movies, or is it the nail on our I-love-you-coffin?

Mostly, we deduce a lot of strange stuff. The hyperintelligent Eurus (kudos to Sian Brooke) has superpowers, because she can brainwash people after five minutes of smalltalk. She has modelled her long hair to the creepy girl from 'The Ring’, but can still fit two wigs underneath it. She can escape whenever, but chooses to stay in her Hannibal cell and record short movies with Moriarty. She designs a parody of 'Saw’ in her prison on Shutter Island, just for Mycroft, Sherlock and John, but right before they leave, she tries to blow them up with a grenade. Not a single scratch they suffer from that ridiculous explosion. Except maybe brain damage, because a little while later, doctor John Watson doesn’t recognise human bones anymore and the brilliant detective doesn’t quite know what exactly glass is anymore. And oh yeah, Redbeard, the dog we saw Sherlock pet so nicely last season? He was really a repressed memory of a little boy. Who eats from a dog bowl.

Admittedly, the episode is very exciting. Too bad that everything is solved with a hug. Should you forgive your psychopathic, murderous sister anyway? That Sherlock now plays the violin with her, is supposed to show us that he has completed his emotional development. He is no longer a high-functioning sociopath, but a person with feelings, is the message. Like inspector Greg Lestrade puts it, in a nice echo to the first episode, Sherlock is not a great man but even better: a good man. But that Sherlock has a heart (and for whom that beats), we have known for a long time.

From Mary’s irritating voice-over (shouldn’t she send a dvd to her daughter?) to the terrible freeze frame at the end: everything points to the fact that this third episode has been the very last ever. But what did they say again, about the number three? Do people always quit? The only thing left to do, is like quite some Sherlock fans hope that a next episode or season ties all the loose ends together. Maybe 'The Final Problem’ was a fever dream of the shot down John, like some are saying? Until then we will replace our memory of season four by a little dog.

One of the things I really love about HSM is that the girls are so brilliant in their own ways.

Gabriella is hyperintelligent and is admitted to a honour’s programme at Stanford that only admits 30 students. Sharpay is a brilliant performer and realizes her big dreams of becoming a Broadway star. Taylor is incredibly organized and motivated and her goal is to become the president of the United States after she finishes college at Yale. Kelsi writes entire musicals all by herself and gets into Juilliard.

These girls all have bright futures and don’t have to compromise their values to achieve greatness and honestly, I love that so much.


WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN is a harrowing description of an extreme potentiality of parenthood whose reputation has scared a lot of people away from ever seeing it—and which I watched three times last week. None of these were the first time I’d seen it. I’d seen it before, failed to forget anything about it, and when I picked the proverbial scab off my wounds last week, I found that I could not stop watching it head to tail. While it is certainly traumatic, and while we all know how trauma appeals to me, the truth is that there is something about KEVIN that I find strangely reassuring. Allow me to explain.

Lynne Ramsay’s astonishing adaptation of Lionel Shriver’s novel of the same name—hang on a second though. What the fuck is going on with Lynne Ramsay? She’s like, insanely good at making movies. Why isn’t she just constantly making movies? The 46 year old Glasgow native has exactly 7 directorial credits to her name, four of which are shorts. Like why the fuck isn’t she just constantly making movies? Every one of this film’s 112 minutes is an if-you-blink-you-miss-it moment. The story essentially takes place over a week in the life of Tilda Swinton, of which she spends each day trying to scrub a hostile spray of red paint off the front of her house, while she analyzes the onrushing tragedy that began with the conception of her psychopathic son, and must come to some sort of resolution when she confronts him behind bars. The mercurial and frequently red-drenched imagery is deliberate, complex, and relentlessly changing. The hyperintelligent sound design AND the soundtrack vacillate between hypnotic and hair-raising, often shifting through time and space out of pace with the photography. There isn’t a shred of padding in the storytelling, nor a single formal element that settles for filler or pure functionality. And of course, the acting, from every member of the cast, is really beyond the pale.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN is a movie that, in my rich fantasy life, every prospective parent should be forced to watch by the government. Chic, cosmopolitan travel writer Tilda Swinton gives up her peripatetic lifestyle to roost with John C. Reilly in the suburbs. Reilly, a born family man, cannot conceive (huh huh) of Swinton’s unusually agonizing pregnancy, and entirely fails to recognize the antagonistic relationship between his wife and their infant son Kevin (later played by Ezra Miller), which appears to be calculated carefully from the moment of his birth. The little boy’s theatrical evilness, only apparent to his mother, increases in intensity and impact as he grows older, leading up to a gruesome event that could have been prevented had he not hidden his true nature so skillfully from everyone but her.

Now, back to my bizarre assertion that there is something reassuring about this story. People in general—or at least, breeders—have a delusional idea that their children somehow belong to them. That they can be “cooler” parents than their own parents were, that they can raise cooler kids than their peers will, that they can guarantee themselves intimacy and gratitude from another human being just by giving birth to it. While it is obvious that a child can’t help imprinting on a parent to some degree, the truth is that nobody belongs to anybody, not even children to their mothers. Any living creature can become any other sort of living creature, not only because of its experience of being alive in the world, but because of its internal chemical landscape. Often, the more the parent tries to assert authority, and material and emotional debt, over their child, the more the spawn responds with various declarations of its own independence. We call this “rebellion”, as if everything the child ever does is aimed at the family, but these expressions are real statements of the truth, that the child belongs to itself. If you can’t stand to expect that, I don’t believe you should consider breeding.

Now, at the risk of contradicting myself, it is also ultimately true that in spite of all the enmity and violence, Kevin and his mother share an intimacy unmatched by any other person in their lives. That Kevin’s rage is chastely directed only at his mother has its own kind of peculiar sweetness. He doesn’t appear to have any friends, and he treats his father to a shallow masquerade of filial piety. On the other hand, although his behavior hardly resembles love, Kevin and his mother know everything about one another. Through a few editorial tricks, plus hair and makeup, Kevin’s appearance is carefully matched to that of his mother. On the rare occasion that they attempt to socialize, there isn’t a shred of pretense between them; there is rather an adult frankness. Everything Kevin does is designed to provoke her and dominate her attention, in fact, to infiltrate every aspect of her life—in fact, he seizes upon her reading him Robin Hood as an opportunity to tie her causally to the brutal archery-enabled massacre that he will commit later in life. Mother and son are deeply close in some way that many apparently functional families never experience. So, to sum it up, I find WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN realistic about childbearing in a way that offers a much-needed respite from the narcissistic fantasies that pervade breeder culture. On the other hand, though, the strange stability and respect that characterizes Kevin’s relationship with his mother helps me survive the series of traumas that make up the narrative.

I admit that I have a few questions about intentionality, that I could probably stand to ask of authoress Lionel Shriver. There a suggestion (that I choose to ignore) that Tilda Swinton was somehow “asking for it”: she knows she would rather be traveling the world than raising a brood, she runs off on poor sweet John C. Reilly, and she foolishly conceives with him as an act of contrition. Culturally, Americans have grown accustomed to blaming single moms for society’s ails (there’s a million horror movies about that, don’t ask me to shoehorn titles into this overlong piece), making it a little too easy to see Swinton as an enemy of family values whose wayward behavior incurs the lifelong wrath of her son. I would really prefer not to believe that this is an organic part of the story, that I’m just poisoned by my culture, but I would feel remiss if I didn’t mention my suspicions.

On a lighter note, what the fuck is going on with John C. Reilly? I mean like John C. Reilly is just amazing. He can literally do anything. He doesn’t even have “phases of his career”, he is equally capable of being wonderful in shitty Will Ferrel movies, and in difficult art haus cinema, and he has been since we collectively became aware of him. I have a friend who worked on TALLADEGA NIGHTS, who told me that Reilly was so much funnier than Will Ferrel, even in just existing on set, that it totally blew everyone’s minds and was borderline awkward. I’ve been repeating this story for years, and came to think of it as simply emblematic of my opinion of John C. Reilly, but recently, finally, I have had to come to terms with the fact that I am actively obsessed with John C. Reilly. I don’t know what to do with myself, because this doesn’t really make me feel obligated to watch everything he’s in. I just think he’s amazing. I’m just dealing with it.

Tune in for PT 3 of this series, with more moms (sort of) and less arrows (but lots of other stuff) in GOODNIGHT MOMMY!

“Why do you feel unworried now that he’s gone in your life?” her bestie asked.

She smiles and chuckles.

“He just left me,” she replied. “Boys leave girls every day, couples break up every day, heck! marriages mostly end in divorce these days.”                

She folds her arms together.

“He just left me,” she added. “And the earth’s weather is still doing okay despite global warming, hyperintelligent robots haven’t backfired on the human race, space rocks haven’t wiped out our planet, aliens haven’t invaded our planet, and a nuclear war hasn’t destroyed our planet.”

She places her face in her hands and cries softly.

“No,” she murmured. “He just left me.”

i think when the characters were first introduced it was talia al ghul’s desire to get in bruce wayne’s pants that first brought him to ra’s al ghul’s attention, but i think it’s funnier if ra’s has spent years playing this cat-and-flying-mouse game with the world’s greatest detective when talia decides she’ll try to seduce him to win her father’s approval. she shows up at some gala or another all ready to match wits with some hyperintelligent super intense bbc sherlock motherfucker but instead it’s Cantankerous Party Grandpa making deadpan dad jokes and trying to get supermodels to eat more because their meager fat stores won’t be enough to keep them alive in the harsh gotham winters. talia tries to lure him in by pretending she caught a chill but it turns out he’s got like ten extra coats in his limo for just such an occasion. he gives her a lecture about leaving the house without one. she says she’s thinking about giving up men because none of them can satisfy her and he offers to introduce her to some nice girls. they only manage about five minutes of flirtatious banter before he stops to ask if she actually wants to fuck or if she’s just into wordplay because he wants to make sure they’re on the same page. can you imagine the sheer baffled frustration of it. she doesn’t know if she wants to kiss him or kill him because her original plan was to do both but her original plan involved a lot of aesthetically-pleasing coitus on silk sheets before a nice classy betrayal stabbing and now she just kinda wants to ride him into the fucking sunset and then wring his stupid neck.

anonymous asked:

Any tips on how to write a genius/prodigy? Just someone who's really really intelligent..

I’ve been meaning to address this for a little while, so thanks for giving me the prompt. I have a lot of friends and family who fall into this category, so the below information is based on my own experience as much as information I found on the web. 

Just keep in mind that, while hyperintelligent people share some traits and quirks, intelligence is a trait, not a personality. Your character’s intelligence should be one facet of their being.

Some basic traits you’ll find in most extremely intelligent people:

  • Procrastination
  • Specialization
  • Curiosity + fascination with inner workings
  • Connection
  • Enormous store of random facts

Procrastination comes from knowing you can do just as fine now as you can a day before the deadline. Over time, this develops into the feeling you can’t do anything to your satisfaction unless you’re under the gun of a deadline. It’s a vicious cycle.

Specialization comes from natural gift or interest, or both. Many people aren’t all-around smart. They’re good at math or chemistry or music. My gifts are writing, music, and language. Yes, there are people who are just good at anything they try, but even they have a skill set they are especially good at. My best friend is literally good at everything, but his specialties are music, sports, and mathematics.

Curiosity is, I think, what makes a prodigy. You need to have a real passion to learn and discover. A prodigy won’t necessarily love learning everything, but they become borderline obsessive about their chosen topics. Part of that curiosity is learning how things work. If you’re really smart, you take joy in discovering the inner workings of your topic, be it the private talks surrounding a major treaty, musical theory, the relationship between stream temperature and fishing flies, or calculus theorems. After you take all the components of the topic apart, you can use each individual fact to combine in different ways to create a different analysis or view than what the prodigy has seen before. The way I see it, most people are interested in the who, the what, and the when. Hyperintelligent people are primarily interested in the how and the why.

Connection comes from all this knowledge you’ve absorbed. It isn’t floating around abstractly. You’re linking it to different concepts, images, sounds, and strategies. You can easily see patterns and underlying concepts, and you can use this knowledge to better understand whatever it is you’re looking at. 

Random facts comes from … the world, I guess. You remember the most random things. Memory has something to do with intelligence, although it’s not as straightforward as it seems. Sometimes it’s a pain in the ass - like remembering an interest someone you barely know mentioned a month ago in passing - and sometimes it’s an asset - like remembering answers for a test. Most of the time it’s just there. You can wow people by answering Jeopardy questions.

Keep reading

Weird Headcanon of the Day: the Traveler

The Traveler is a hyperintelligent, interstellar, robotic AI version of Bernie Sanders.

“Let’s raise the minimum wage to Tier 2 civilization!”

“We must expand Medicare for all. Triple the human lifespan!”

“We shall make the knowledge from the Ishtar Collective and Clovis Bray free to use for the entirety of humanity!”

“Affordable housing for everyone, on every habitable world in the solar system!”

Maybe his work isn’t the best for the whole universe, but he is genuinely trying to help the little folks out.


The Speaker is Hillary, because they both keep secrets, and trumpets the Traveler while secretly ruling over everyone.

Skolas is Trump, because… “Make the Fallen great again!” and, “We shall rebuild the House of Wolves, and make the Vex pay for it!”

Atheon is Ted Cruz. Vaguely irrelevant (except for that one time) and probably hates Skolas for trumpling (trampling? nevermind) on his territory.

The Darkness is everyone who hates the Traveler for making everyone lazy and essentially freeloading the galaxy. “Helping everyone will destroy the natural balance of the universe!”

(Please no flame warring, this is for jokes, not for kids.)