learned pig

Peppa Pig in Different Languages

I’m pretty sure everyone knows who or what Peppa Pig is. If you do, you probably have watched it one time or another when you were little. I used to like it because of the simple vocabulary it has and it gave me great joy when I understood a whole episode in English.

If you’re a language learner you know how difficult it is to listen to shows or movies in your target language because they’re so fast. Peppa Pig is obviously a children’s show, but it has been translated into a lot of different languages that may help out any beginner in a language or anyone who wants to give a watch and see if they understand it! Peppa Pig - being a children’s show - uses slow speech and simple vocabulary that small children can understand, here’s a list of Peppa Pig in different languages you can watch on YouTube:

These are the ones that can be found on YouTube. Unfortunately, there are some languages missing but if anyone knows where one can watch them please feel free to add!

No, Paul, It Wasn’t Because of “Growing Pains”

House Speaker Paul Ryan, in his press conference following the demise of his bill to replace Obamacare, blamed Republicans who had failed to grasp that the GOP was now a “governing party.”

“We were a 10-year opposition party, where being against things was easy to do,” said Ryan. “You just had to be against it. Now, in three months’ time, we tried to go to a governing party where we actually had to get 216 people to agree with each other on how we do things.” 

It was, he said, “the growing pains of government.”


Apparently Ryan doesn’t grasp that he put forward a terrible bill to begin with. According to the non-partisan Congressional Budget Office, it would have resulted in 24 million Americans losing health coverage over the next decade, hardly make a dent in the federal debt, and transfer over $600 billion to the wealthiest members of American society.

The so-called “Freedom Caucus” of House Republicans, who refused to go along with the bill, wanted it even worse. Essentially, their goal (and that of their fat-cat patrons) was to repeal the Affordable Care Act without replacing it at all. 

Ryan is correct about one thing. Congress is in the hands of Republicans who for years have only said “no.” They have become expert at stopping whatever a president wants to do but they don’t have a clue how to initiate policy.

Most of the current Republican House members have not shared responsibility for governing the nation. They have never even passed a budget into law.

But their real problem isn’t the “growing pains” of being out of power. In reality, the Republicans who are now control the House – as well as the Senate – don’t like government. They’re temperamentally and ideologically oriented to opposing it, not leading it.

Their chronic incapacity to govern didn’t reveal itself as long as a Democrat was in the White House. They let President Obama try to govern, and pretended that their opposition was based on a different philosophy governing.

Now that they have a Republican president, they can no longer hide. They have no philosophy of governing at all. 

Sadly for them – and for the rest of the country, and the world – the person they supported in the election of 2016 and who is now president is an unhinged narcissistic child who tweets absurd lies and holds rallies to prop up his fragile ego.

His conflicts of financial interest are legion. His entire  presidency is under a “gray cloud” of suspicion for colluding with Russian agents to win office.

Here’s a man who’s advised by his daughter, his son-in-law, and an oddball who once ran a white supremacist fake-news outlet.

His Cabinet is an assortment of billionaires, CEOs, veterans of Wall Street, and ideologues, none of whom has any idea about how to govern and most of whom don’t believe in the laws their departments are in charge of implementing anyway.

Meanwhile, he has downgraded or eviscerated groups of professionals responsible for giving presidents professional advice on foreign policy, foreign intelligence, economics, science, and domestic policy.

He gets most of what he learns from television.

So we have a congress with no capacity to govern, and a president who’s incapable of governing.

Which leaves the most powerful nation in the world rudderless. 

The country on whom much of the rest of the world relies for organizing and mobilizing responses to the major challenges facing humankind is leaderless.

It is of course possible that Republicans in congress will learn to take responsibility for governing. It is possible that Donald Trump will learn to lead. It is possible that pigs will learn to fly. 

But such things seem doubtful. Instead, America and the rest of the world must hold our collective breath, hoping that the next elections – the midterms of 2018 and then the presidential election of 2020 – set things right. And hoping that in the meantime nothing irrevocably awful occurs.


No more to you at this present, mine own darling, for lack of time, but that I would you were in mine arms, or I in yours, for I think it l o n g since I k i s s e d you.

happy birthday @boleynqueens!!!

Punishment for a sneaky piggy Feat. Gainerboynick

I’ll never know what’s worse: my boss riding my ass (not in the way I’d prefer), or my mother sending me nagging text messages.

“Honey, when are you going to come over?”

“Xavier, why don’t you ever call?”

“Found this great gym online. Maybe you should get Nick to go every once and a while. He’s packing on some weight lately and I’m just concerned.”

Jesus Christ, if it’s not one thing it’s another. I’m just happy to be home. Crack open a cold one, put my feet up, rub my pig’s ever-growing belly.

I opened the door to my house and walked inside. I heard a weird noise, like someone was getting into something they shouldn’t. As I shut the door, the noise stopped, followed by scurrying noises. I dropped my bag and quickly walked into the kitchen to find the culprit.

My pig was eating the leftover pizza that I forbid him to eat. I caught him as he was bent over, back towards me, placing the box back into the fridge. His pants sagged a few inches, revealing his round butt and hairy ass crack.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Slowly, he stood. He pulled his pants up, fixed his shirt and turned around. Right in the middle of his chubby face was a piece of pizza crust, sticking out from his sexy lips. As I took a few steps towards him, he quickly shoved it in and chewed.

“I’m pretty fucking positive that I told you not to eat that pizza. What made you think you could disobey me?” At this point, I was an inch or two from my toned midsection rubbing against his belly. He looked afraid.

“Well, I was hungry. And you texted me saying you’d be home late and I couldn’t wait for my food.”

I was furious, and he could tell. My temperature was rising and I’m pretty sure my face was a hundred shades of red.

“I mean, I’m a growing boy. I’m not supposed to be hungry.”

That’s when the anger subsided. I started breathing normally and I felt myself calm down. I was six inches taller than him, so even calm, I’m sure the sight of me leering down at him was still intimidating.

Good. I could use that to my advantage.

I smiled, and I saw his face go from terror to confusion. I reached out my hands and placed them one the sides of his gut. It’s funny: he was a struggling gainer before I met him and managed to balloon him from 195-240 pounds of pure, jiggly fat. What’s funny is all of his fat went straight to his belly. His belly, shaped like a perfect ball, with hair all around his navel, felt so warm in my hands as I rubbed it. He seemed to calm down too, as I rubbed his empty belly.

“How many pieces did you eat before I caught you being a sneaky little piggy,” I asked him, not looking up, but continuing to rub and pat his distended belly.

“Two. Honest. Only two.”

He looked down and saw my cock begin to go hard in my pants. He reached his hand out to grab it, as was his training. Whenever he saw me go hard, no matter how empty or full his belly was, he had to suck it. But not right now.

I pushed his hand aside.

“Chair,” I said sternly. “NOW.”

His belly left my grasp as he stood straight up and walked to my office, just off the kitchen. I slowly followed behind him as he did was had been instructed to do a few times before.

First, he took off all of his clothes, except for his underwear. No matter how fat he got or how it got me off to feel his struggle to ride my dick with his new girth, the one thing that could get me hard and dripping in an instant was how his belly made the elastic of his underwear roll onto itself. That beginner ball gut could do things to me that no man ever could.

He opened a desk drawer and took out a plain red shirt, my favorite color. He put it on and stretched it down his plump frame. The shirt stopped right beneath his belly button, leaving an inch or two of exposed hairy belly flesh beneath its grasp. His nipples, so hard and tiny, looked like they could stab through the cheap fabric.

Next, he grabbed the leather straps from the drawer, then headed to my work chair. Solid wood, the finest for my piggy. Solid enough to where he shouldn’t break it. Yet.

He sat down in the chair, his belly pushing at the fabric more, leather straps on his ample lap and arms resting on the arms of the chair. I walked over, using two of the smallest straps to tie his wrists down, then tied each ankle to a chair leg. As I went to stand, I noticed his rock-hard cock in his underwear. I looked up at him and was met with a subtle smile.

           After flicking his dick and watching him flinch, I said,

           “This is not for your pleasure piggy. This is your punishment for being greedy and a sneak.” With that, I stood up and left the office.

           I opened the fridge and took out two beers. After cracking one and drinking it without stopping, I surveyed the fridge to see what I had for my piggy. I stopped calling him Nick when his pants, then a size 30, stopped fitting and we celebrated by watching him eat an entire Fudgy the Whale ice cream cake.

           Pizza, four slices left. That was an obvious. Left over pulled pork in bbq sauce. Last quarter of my birthday cake. Packet of deli turkey. A few big meatballs. Half pint of heavy cream. Oh, that can wait for later. I opened my second beer and drank it faster than the first.

           I hauled piggy’s punishment into my office and sat it on my desk, all for him to see. And oh, did he see it. His eyes practically shot out of his head. But like a good pig, he didn’t say a word. He knew what was coming.

           I stood in front of him, pizza box in hand.

           “Remember,” I said, taking a slice of meat lovers pizza out of the box and lowering it towards his mouth, “You did this to yourself.” As soon as the greasy pizza met his lips, he took a big tear into his mouth and practically swallowed it whole. He kept going for it, bite after bite until he was licking the garlic spread off the crust. I let him have it.

           He didn’t slow down for the other three slices, which we devoured with such glee. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought that he was enjoying his punishment.

           Once the pizza was gone and the box rested empty next to the chair, I let piggy suck the remaining grease from my fingers. I reached down and felt his belly. Little tight, but nowhere near full.

           Next came the pulled pork. The container was big, filled to the top. I walked next to the chair, and sat the cold container down in front of his belly. Pulling my own chair up next to him, I sat down and placed one hand on the back of his head. The other hand, lightly grazing down his fat torso to tease him, reached the bowl and scooped out a clump of the meat. I raised it to his mouth, and slammed it in. He chewed with ease, and before he could swallow, I shoved another mouthful in. By the fourth mouthful we worked out a good rhythm, which was interrupted by a sudden moan. My hand stopped midair and I looked at him, as his cheeks slowly turned pink.

           “Oh, I’m sorry, is this enjoyable to you?” I asked, scooping the pork back into the container. Fucking pigs never learn to take their punishment.

           I walked over to the desk and took out a small pair of clamps on a chain. “Maybe now you’ll learn.” The right clamp closed on his hard nipple and he squealed. I smiled. “Now that’s better,” I said clamping the second one.

           Before I could give him time to adjust to the pain, I slammed a big helping of pork into his gaping mouth. Instead of the easy-go rhythm we once had, I forced handful after handful into his mouth, giving him just enough time to swallow before more was pushed. I looked down as I force fed my pig and thought I could see his belly as it puffed out and became full.

           My hand touched the bottom of the empty container and before he could catch his breath, I put a few slices of turkey into his mouth. Had he not eaten the last of the chicken alfredo last night that would be here for him too, but I had to make do.

           The slices slowly vanished and I could tell he was getting full. His chews were slowing down and his breathing slowed. But he wasn’t going to get away that easily. Piggy had to be punished for what he did.

           I opened the package of meatballs and showed him what he would be eating next. His eyes widened in protest. My eyes rolled.

           I sat the meatball down on his lap and pulled down my shorts and underwear, revealing a hard cock and low hanging balls. “Don’t give me your defeatist bullshit piggy. You take my balls in your mouth just fine, and the meatball is smaller in size.” Realizing I was right, he took the meatball whole into his mouth. Slowly, he made his way through the last of them.

           I looked at him, his belly hard and full, the shirt risen past his navel and looked painted onto his chubby body. He had food and juices around his mouth and dripping down his chin. I lifted the cake off the desk and as I turned around to present him with his final challenge, I stopped. I had a better idea.

           Running back to the kitchen, I grabbed the heavy cream from the fridge and the carton of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer. I quickly blended it to a smooth blend and brought the mixture into the room, where piggy sat, tied down and full. Little did he know his limits, and beautiful gut, were about to get pushed even farther.

           “I have a surprise for you pigs. I was going to give it to you when you hit two hundred fifty, but I think you deserve it now.” From the closet, I produced a black rubber funnel, complete with face attachment. Though he knew he was being punished, piggy smiled, his cock hard and leaking in his tight briefs. I slowly walked over and strapped the harness to his mouth, the funnel raised high.

           “Oink oink, piggy,” I said and began to pour my concoction into the funnel. As I poured, I could see the mixture disappear from the bottom of the funnel and could hear my dear pig swallow it as it came. I bet he was getting full, but my pig is a fighter, and he kept chugging along until the entire blender was empty. I unstrapped the funnel and undid his binds.

           As I did so, he dove straight for my hard cock. I told you, when it’s hard, he sucks it. And FUCK does piggy know how to suck. He glided my eight inches with ease, slurping on my meat and groping my fat balls. I moaned and coaxed him, as my hand simply laid on the back of his head and let him show me what he could do.

           Normally I could last an hour or more before cumming. But today, knowing I fed my piggy past what he could handle, knowing that for a while his normally jiggly belly would be hard as a rock, knowing that he was mine, I was closer than I thought I would be. With a few more pumps, I was unloading shot after thick shot down my piggy’s throat, soon to meet the feast I crammed into him. As my orgasm died down, piggy looked up at me, cum dripping from his lips. I smiled, using my slowly deflating cock to guide my juices into his mouth.

           “Let me clean up, then we can shower.” I grabbed the garbage and empty blender cup and headed towards the kitchen. As I cleaned, I heard another weird noise. This time, it wasn’t the scurrying of a sneaky piggy. It sounded more like…gobbling. I slowly walked towards the door of my office, and if I wasn’t already spent and empty, what I saw would’ve had me shooting more than when I went two weeks with a jerkoff.

           There was my piggy, clad only in pre-cum soaked underwear, on his hands and knees, shoving cake into his mouth. The pains of being full obviously didn’t stop him, as he slammed handfuls of my three-layer cake into his mouth. As I walked in and watched, I saw his belly pointing straight towards the floor, bowing out with the food he ate and was still eating. His ass jutted out up in the air, and like my pig, I lost all control.

           Kneeling down behind him, I slowly shed him of his tight underwear. How had I never noticed how fat his ass had gotten? I fuck him constantly, and never did I once notice his round butt, expanding like his gut had. Without skipping a beat, I dived my tongue between those hairy fat cheeks, probing and licking his tight hole. I slapped, grabbed, and pinched his fat ass, all the while he moaned loud and stuffed his face with cake. I hardly even noticed him ferociously stroking his thick fat boy cock. I saw him shovel the last of the cake in his mouth, and felt him about to give way. I reached my cupped hand right under his cock and felt him release his hot jet of cum into it. As he turned to face me, frosting covering his mouth, for the last time, I raised my hand to feed him. He took his cum out of my hand and licked it clean.

           He leaned back and rested himself against my desk. Using his finger to clean his mouth of cake, his other hand rubbed his beyond full gut. I forgot his usual belly measurements, but is swollen gut had to be at least four, if not five extra inches around by now. And it definitely wasn’t going to shake anytime soon. He took off his nipple clamps and looked at me.

           “Now piggy,” I said to him. “What have we learned here today?”

           He smiled his pig boy grin. “Sneak pizza more often.”

Little detail I’ve never noticed before:

The game of dice that Killian, Milah and the crew are playing in 2.04 is Crown and Anchor which was “traditionally played for gambling purposes by sailors in the Royal Navy, and also in the British merchant and fishing fleets.”

It’s difficult to see, but it looks like it’s the game he’s playing in 3.21, as well:

In Storybrooke, however, the game he’s playing with Henry in 3.17 uses traditional dice with numbered pips:

anonymous asked:

Does being a vet "ruin" having pets of your own? Just curious if you would over analyze things/get tired of constant critters, etc. :) hope you have a fantastic weekend!

It kind of does. If all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.

When you’ve spent years training to identify and treat pathology, after a while all you see are problems. There are so many purebred dogs that I used to want, but now would struggle to enjoy owning because of the paranoia that develops with every little symptom, no matter how innocent that symptom might be. I mean, I’m bad enough if Wonka doesn’t scream as loud as normal for his dinner.

Like most people that wanted to be a vet, I had plans. I was going to have a farm, and two horses (I learned, quickly), tamworth pigs, jersey or highland cattle, some goats, at least three different types of purebred chicken, multiple dogs, multiple cats, one aquarium, an aviary of finches and maybe some rats.

I had big plans for owning animals, but between work commitments, time and space, none of that came to pass other than the two cats and maintaining an under-stocked aquarium. I just don’t have time for anything else at the moment.

Maybe I’ll pull it off one day, but you don’t look at animals the same way at the end of a vet course as you do at the beginning.

anonymous asked:

What women's rights apply to trans women? They're not treated differently from birth. They're not oppressed for their reproductive system.

Pee your pants. They may not be “oppressed” for their reproductive systems, but they sure as hell have dysphoria for them. Terfs only like genitals, not women. I find it really really amusing how like, radfems reduce all of feminism down to “Oh, I have a pussy and you don’t, so i’m better than you. Also I’m the only one who gets women rights uwu” It’s stupid? Like,, how can you go so against your own cause like that. I thought the idea of feminism was to stick up for women, yet terfs somehow justify literally putting down women? Trans women deserve all the rights that apply to cis women. All Terfs are hypocrites.

anonymous asked:

Do you recommend wannabe webcomic creators to start out with a oneshot or just start off on their big, long-running passion project that they've had for years???

OK, I’m not sure if I’m the best person to ask this to, but from my experience with Sam and Here it Comes, this is all I’ve learned. I fell assbackwards into SaM after seeing that one sigil post on my dash one day and just kinda felt like doodling updates. I had no plot, no plan, no experience with comics ever in my life.

I, personally, felt comfortable with episodic updates. Over time a plot formed and I started to stop the episodic stuff and connected each update with a chronological timeline. That worked for me from what I got used to drawing. Even still with some updates there are time gaps.

I then began to work on Here it Comes on the side after getting more experience from art school. The goal is to try a comic with more action, more detail, more planning and character development. It’s still in the early stages, what with SaM taking up majority of my time, so I’m still experimenting there (tho I do have a lot of brainstorm updates waiting to be finished and submitted to the blog/Tapastic).

I have one project which is my brainchild, a story I never thought I’d really make, but planned for over 12 years just daydreaming and doodling. That one is my baby. The one I actively don’t want to fuck up. I want experience from SaM and HiC before I even begin to touch that one. 

My recommendations to any new webcomic artists who have little to no experience is: don’t start with your passion project. Make up something else for your guinea pig. You learn so much with the first project you ever work on (ie: how you’re comfortable laying panels out, planning plot points, characters, perspective, colors, backgrounds, etc). Hone this project before you do your passion piece.

That’s just my opinion from my experience 3 years running with SaM/HiC. You don’t have to do that, but that’s what I would recommend. You want your passion piece to be as nice as possible. Not some fumbling mess of no experience.

The Bestiary: Sea Pig

Boy oh boy was I looking forward to reviewing these guys. They are some of my favorite sea animals et al, they are echinoderms, and they are deep sea creatures to boot. What’s not to like?

So what do you get when you take a regular countryside pig, cross it over with a Metroid and add a touch of gummy bear, then dump the result into the ocean?

Probably not anything that resembles the sea pig, but the point still stands.

Look at this precious lil thing.

These guys are the genus Scotoplanes, a term which sounds very similar to “scuttling” and is thus perfectly fitting. Fuck you, I don’t know a shred of Latin.

These fuckos are some of the weirdest stuff you’ll find in the deep sea, which is impressive considering pretty much everything down there could cause Salvador Dalí to take a step back and reconsider his life choices, maybe even shave off his improbable moustache, Taxonomically, they are sea cucumbers, but their body plan is more similar to that of a fat slug that one day decided to grow legs just for the heck of it. The legs are pretty weird too, and function very unlike any other organ of locomotion on the planet. They are the same “tube feet” that starfish have, except a lot bigger. They are basically hollow socks of organic matter that the sea pig constantly inflates and deflates by circulating water in them. It basically does the job of an entire mall clown for each leg.

Despite the fact that they are more frail than a Fabergé egg made out of bath foam, and their exotic appearance, the sea pigs aren’t endangered. This is mostly due to the fact that they multiply with the vigor of steroid-enhanced bunnies, to the point where they constitute arund 60 percent of all seafloor life world-wide. Talk about the newest craze.

I weren’t kidding about the frailty though, these guys have the consistency of Jell-O. They are very vulnerable since they solve their water input by circulating entirely through their paper-thin skin, which makes studying them kind of hard, because, y’know, the sea pig you’ve brought to the surface will sometimes just straight-up fucking melt in your hands.

That’s not a big problem though,since there are lots of them. And when I say lots, I do mean lots. They act as the primary cleanup service on the sea floor, scouting around and getting rid of the organic muck in the mud. Their primary food source is so-called “marine snow”, basically a constant downpour of dead shit from the upper regions where other animals kick the bucket. Imagine it as the Biblical mana, except it’s much more macabre and not divine in origin. Hell, considering the place it falls down to, it probably falls right from Satan’s asshole.

This surreal corpse weather even has its own weather phenomena, most importantly the so-called “whalefalls”, which is basically a whale’s corpse slowly sinking to the seafloor. Whalefalls always involve the nastiest incarnations of pure NOPE dogpiling the carcass and gorging themselves on it until they can’t even move. Literally. The feasters include two-meter-long worms that sweat acid, cat-sized prehistoric isopods able to starve for five years, and bone-eating worms. The legions upon legions of sea pigs swarming these whalefalls look positively tame by comparison.

Speaking of legions, sea pigs have a tendency to gather into hundreds-strong groups and feed together. They usually all face the same direction, so as to better sniff out the incoming marine snow, but they look more like the minions of Hell marching to conquer the mortal realm.

The other reason they’re not endangered is because they don’t have many natural predators. Sea cucumbers tend to be a gourmet prey item on many predator’s menu, to the point where they have to defend themselves by firing their own guts at the enemy out of their buttholes. A sort of fartillery, if you will.

Okay, okay, I’ll stop with the shitty puns.

Due to the fact that most deep sea creatures are more preoccupied with contemplating how fucking ugy they are than with hunting, sea pigs are in less danger. So they can get away with more conventional defense tactics, such as being drop-dead poisonous. Their poison, called holothurin, is entirely unique to sea cucumbers, and is so effective that Indo-Pacific peoples are said to poison entire coral reef pools with it, since it can knock out lots of fish at once, which are then free to catch. So yeah, biological weaponry in tribal hunting, pretty much.

So what have we learned today? The sea pig feeds on death, tastes like death and is pretty darn cute. All in all it’s a pretty satisfying sea animal we’ve got here.