Jfc I hate the “well that’s how it is in the wild” defense to shitty animal care.
Newsflash: CAPTIVITY IS NOT THE WILD. THAT’S KIND OF THE WHOLE POINT.
There’s a big thing about all of the negatives of captivity & how animals are so much more restricted and it’s so unnatural, etc. etc. And hey, guess what. Captivity actually has benefits too, if you actually do it right! Benefits like keeping predators away from the animals and treating diseases & injuries and providing plentiful appropriate food to avoid starvation & malnutrition. These are generally agreed to be improvements over the wild.
Yes, providing a more natural environment is ideal for allowing natural behaviors. It’s a good idea to look at the animal’s natural environment to emulate things such as temperature, humidity, landscape features, and challenges that stimulate the animal safely. That does NOT include things like live feeding “because it’s natural”, cohabitating animals that are aggressive or solitary “because it’s natural”, or feeding an incomplete diet “because it’s natural”.
Natural is not automatically better. The wild is not automatically better. If you’re going to keep animals in captivity, you have a responsibility to provide a balance between a stimulating environment that allows natural behaviors and a SAFE environment that provides freedom from hunger, malnutrition, injury, and illness to the best of your ability. Your goal is not to be the wild because captivity is NOT the wild and it shouldn’t be.
SO back in during the revolutionary war the British soliders sang a song called Yanke Doodle (which is now a famous American song and even the state anthem of Connecticut).
SO MY QUESTION TO YOU IS, WHAT DOES THIS SONG HAVE IN COMMON WITH THE 2004 GREEN DAY SONG AMERICAN IDIOT?
1. Okay so American Idiot is quite simple what the title means. But you don’t really know what Yankee Doodle means right.
Okay so Yankee is basically an American person. But what the fuck is a doodle?
Wait wait. So Doodle means “fool” right. Technically this means that the song is literally called American Idiot. But that’s not everything.
2. The meaning in American Idiot is according to Wikipedia that Green Day and Billy Armstrong makes fun of the American people.
“American Idiot” contends that mass media has orchestrated paranoia and
idiocy among the public. Citing cable news coverage of the Iraq War, Billie Joe Armstrong recalled, “They had all these Geraldo-like
journalists in the tanks with the soldiers, getting the play-by-play.“
He felt with that, American news crossed the line from journalism to reality television, showcasing violent footage intercut with advertisements.
Armstrong went on to write the song after hearing the Lynyrd Skynyrd song "That’s How I Like It” on his car radio. “It was like, ‘I’m proud to be a redneck’ and I was like, 'oh my God, why would you be proud of something like that?’ This is exactly what I’m against.”
But what is the meaning of Yankee Doodle? According to Wikipedia:
“Traditions place its origin in a pre-Revolutionary War song originally sung by British military officers to mock the disheveled, disorganized colonial “Yankees” with whom they served in the French and Indian War, apparently written c. 1755 by British Army surgeon Dr. Richard Shuckburgh while campaigning in upper New York.
The British troops sang it to make fun of their stereotype of the
American soldier as a Yankee simpleton who thought that he was stylish
if he simply stuck a feather in his cap.
You see a pattern here? Yankee Doodle IS LITERALLY A 18TH CENTURY VERSION OF AMERICAN IDIOT.
lucy and lena being two extra competitive assholes during game night and they get in the most ridiculous fights when they’re partners in a game and like, “honestly, luthor, step up your game! i WON’T lose this because of you.” and “excuse me? lose because of ME? a five year old can draw better than you, lane!”
Its ok to question. Its ok to be sad. Its ok to be unsure. Fuck, this is how I spend most of my time, but I’m getting there. There is a light. I have figure out what I need from life. What I want. I have a plan. Its sketchy but its there. Its taken me 4 years to get here. At times I never thought I would. There are still so many decisions. It isn’t clear. I dont know if this will work, but I have to try. I can’t be scared anymore.
Trust me when I say things will become clear. You dont need to make decisions now. Take your time. Be happy. Be safe. Talk to people. FUCK. Fucking talk to so many people. I never want you to feel alone.
A/N - because I wonder what they were like as teenagers, and I feel like Saizo probably had a pretty hard edge until Yukimura’s RELENTLESS SUNSHINE just wore him down to the exasperated-with-the-world ninja we know and love today, and I also feel like getting there probably involved both of them getting their heads knocked around a bit along the way.
“You just—he just…he’s…”
At fourteen, Yukimura was mostly wild limbs and wide eyes in a face that hadn’t
quite lost the shape of childhood to growth.
years his senior, Saizo sounded bored, wiping the blade that had claimed the
deed on a cloth as he continued down the path. Yukimura realized he was being
left behind, and shoved the short sword he hadn’t had a chance to use back in
its scabbard, scampering to catch up. Saizo looked lazily over his shoulder,
and continued, flat, “The word you are looking for is dead.”
The sudden flush felt dry and hot on his cheeks. “I know what ‘dead’ is.”
“Do you, now.”
sure he heard it or not, the mocking whisper of as my little lord commands, but real or imagined, it made him
bristle nonetheless. It made him uneasy, the total indifference, and the silence. It bothered him. He didn’t
really know why. He knew Saizo was only being silent now because he’d told him
to be, and somehow that made it worse. The swift rush of annoyance, unease, was
unfamiliar, and sat sour in his flipped stomach, and he found himself mumbling,
“He probably had a family.”
Yukimura could keep up now, and wondered if the pace had been adjusted to his
He sounded tired, in a way Yukimura didn’t understand. So he pressed, trying
“Maybe a wife
or somethin’.” He was frustrated, though he didn’t want to be, thinking of silence and open-eyed bodies falling backwards.
something like a laugh from the shinobi, but it had a cold, careless edge that hurt when it hit, uncoiling something in Yukimura’s stomach that had learned about honor and death and how they mattered. “She’s
a widow now.” And then, with hard smile like a knife’s edge, he turned, words
lazy and vulgar as a snake’s yawn, and they prickled across Yukimura’s skin in a threatening promise he didn’t understand but knew, “Want to know what happens to most little
widows, when their men are killed?”
on him before the words were finished forming, knocking Saizo hard into the dirt
and nearly rolling them both over with the force of it. Surprise and bulk gave
him the advantage, even half-grown, but he was inexperienced still, and Saizo was
not. In a few furious, moments, Saizo had him pinned in the grass, grip hard and bruising, and they were both scraped, filthy and
“Are we done
now, little lord?” The snarl wounded like sin, the brush of a cold wind and
hardly any louder.
He’d done it,
Yukimura realized. He’d actually made Saizo mad.
him, rioting into a grin, and the brief flash of confusion in copper-flecked
eyes gave him enough of an opening to free his fist and shove it back at the
face framed in silver. Saizo dodged, but Yukimura was on him again, elbows and
fists clawing for advantage he never quite managed to wrestle back. He was
stronger, even now, but Saizo was smarter, and waited him out until his limbs
were weak as water, and when they were, there was a blade pressed to his throat.
stared at it, more interested than worried, and glanced up its length to the
older teen holding it. The uncompromised smile stayed with glee when he saw simmering heat in place of
Saizo looked away first.
again, Yukimura decided, but there was an honesty to his exasperation that felt
real, and the shinobi felt so often like smoke slipping through his fingers
that the solidity was welcomed with careless joy. The blade vanished, to where,
Yukimura didn’t know, but he was already eagerly tugging on the torn, bloody
fabric hanging off of the other boy’s shoulder, speaking around the bloodied lip that matched the brilliant bruise starting to form on Saizo’s cheek, “Hey, hey! Teach me that! You gotta teach me that, will you?”
expression of dismay openly deepened, and then was wiped blank. “No.” Saizo
sighed, and leaned over, twirling what had been discarded in his fingers before
offering it, hilt-first. “Don’t drop your sword in a fight.” A pause, and then
muttered, just low enough for Yukimura to know it was meant to be heard, “Idiot.”
With a smile
as bright as the sun, the younger boy snatched back his weapon in delight. He stretched,
wincing as it pulled something sore, then licked his lip and tasted copper with salt. “I’m hungry.”
already standing, walking down the path again. “You always are.”
scrambled up and followed. “Yeah, but I EARNED it this time.”
He thought he saw it. Brief as a flash in
shadow, wry and troubled but there nonetheless, on lips that usually strayed
little from slightly annoyed. “Maybe.” But whatever he’d seen was forgotten at
the roll of Saizo’s fingers, and what was there—
“Hey! That’s my coin purse.”
There it was again, faint but ferocious even though the words were mild as a
breeze. Not…quite friendly. Not yet. But it would be, Yukimura knew. He’d won
that, he knew it, even if Saizo didn’t yet and that was okay. “You’re buying,
It was worth
it, the teen figured. Probably. He grinned, stretching once more to throw his
hands behind his head, beaming up into the sunshine and vaguely accepting that his nose was bleeding now, too. “Yeah, okay.”