Little knitted pigeon enjoying come crisps on the pavement…
I thought that only the bag of chips was knitted so I was like lmaoo fucking idiot bird got owned then I saw that the bird was knitted as well then I realized I was the fucking idiot bird getting owned
Happy 10th birthday to tumblr user 2-shane-s being the fucking idiot bird getting owned
Good news. we can finally Be Bees. this isn’t your world, but we can Be Bees. this is Good news. you can Be a Bee. you’ll live like a Bee. A Pet. A pet? A Pet. Mark, this is Good news. You’ll live. for 30 years. THIS IS INSANE
I spent a lot of time handcuffed and in a cage in high school, for a charity bit the grocery store I worked at would do
the bit was that I was “put in jail for having too big a heart” and customers could donate to my bail to get me out (and the money would go to a children’s hospital or something)
now. I was very clearly a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a large cage. and I would honestly tell people that I had been in there for hours. and people would say, that’s terrible! that’s awful! and I would show them my wrists red from the tight handcuffs, and say but I’m sooooooo close to making bail.
and then they would dump some cash in the basket, I’d thank them, and they’d walk away.
and every so often, one of the managers would come by and collect some of the cash, so I could keep being soooooo close to making bail.
I was very good with this bit. Parents with small kids would pay $5-10 if I told their children I had been placed in jail for not cleaning my room/doing my homework, etc. For people in their 20s, I’d threaten that I was very bad at playing the harmonica, but I WOULD play it and we’d all suffer unless they paid me. and for the most amount of money, older men in suits would almost always pay $20s if I avoided eye contact and stammered a lot.
eventually, the managers started to feel bad because I was in the cage so fucking long and often, that I’d need someone to brace me when I got out because I’d have no feeling in my legs. wobbling like a newborn giraffe.
but I would also rake in at LEAST $100 an hour in charity.
so they were like, hey champ. can we, uh, give you a pillow to sit on. in the cage. would you like a pillow so you’re not just sitting on a cold metal slab. can we give you a pillow.
and I had to explain to them that if they gave me a pillow, people would think I was more comfortable, so they wouldn’t feel as bad, so I’d bring in less money.
the compromise was that they’d bring me a nice coffee every couple hours, which I would have to try to block with my body from the customers.
all this money went to charity. that’s what the money was for. it’s what was on the sign. but how much they were willing to pay was very contingent on how comfortable I looked, never mind the fact that I was still a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a cage.
and out of the dozens of shifts I did this on, not ONCE did ANYONE say, hey kid I’m going to go talk to your manager because what the fuck is going on here. they would just drop money in the basket, and I’d thank them and sip from my secret drink.
I actually had people get MAD at me that I told them I was far away from bail, they donated like $15, and then 20 minutes I got let out because my shift ended.
again. the money was for charity. it was on the sign that was very clearly placed on the upper half of my cage.
so yeah. even when people think they mean well. people can be really, really fucking stupid.
took me a bit but this is roughly what the cage looked like, without the middle platform
It was something that was originally used in the back for carting boxes, but was repurposed into a teenager cage
they’d wheel it out and the one open side would be backed against either a wall or a large display (like very tall rows of soda boxes or something)
Then I’d get in, they’d push the thing so it would be as flush as possible against the wall, and then I’d stick my hands through the bars for them to handcuff me. there’d be a sign up top explaining the bit, and then a shopping basket tied on front for people to drop the money into.
the handcuffs were fake, and I could unlock them myself for obvious safety reasons. I would get more donations if they were tight, though.
After maybe a month or two, I asked for a harmonica to sell the bit. they also tried giving me a mug, but it was too awkward with the handcuffs. I got kind of okay at playing the harmonica, but the main point was just to do one sharp blast to startle people into looking down, and then I’d threaten that I had no idea how to play, but would do so anyway unless they donated to my bail. managers actually got me a prison jumpsuit to throw over my uniform, but it was really fucking awkward so we stopped eventually. I also got a metric fuckton of mardi gras beads so I could lure small children over, to then mournfully tell them of my imprisonment due to not cleaning my room, etc. parents would be moderately irritated that I’d lured their children over with beads, but would respect the game that I’d given their kids a whole new fear. I had some parents even ad lib what I could have been thrown in prison for. guaranteed donations.
obviously, the prison bit worked best with younger girls. my roughly 50-60 year old manager once congratulated me on doing so well with the donations because I “looked like a cute sad little puppy in one of those RSPCA commercials. like a helpless puppy or a kitten.” wearing makeup and earrings also increased the rate of donations.
had to explain to another girl how I regularly got $20s, which was when an older guy in a suit walked by I’d rattle my handcuffs slightly to draw attention. 10/10 times the guy would walk over, and I had to tell this girl like. If you avoid eye contact and sound uncertain you will get at least $20. I am sorry. this is for children’s cancer research.
cannot stress enough that the other employees fought to get to be in the cage. customers were so awful and the weather was so shitty. jail meant sitting down with very few expectations, talking and joking with people.
Anyway. Shit was definitely not an allegory, though it could be used as one for about 11 different things.
I spent a lot of time handcuffed and in a cage in high school, for a charity bit the grocery store I worked at would do
the bit was that I was “put in jail for having too big a heart” and customers could donate to my bail to get me out (and the money would go to a children’s hospital or something)
now. I was very clearly a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a large cage. and I would honestly tell people that I had been in there for hours. and people would say, that’s terrible! that’s awful! and I would show them my wrists red from the tight handcuffs, and say but I’m sooooooo close to making bail.
and then they would dump some cash in the basket, I’d thank them, and they’d walk away.
and every so often, one of the managers would come by and collect some of the cash, so I could keep being soooooo close to making bail.
I was very good with this bit. Parents with small kids would pay $5-10 if I told their children I had been placed in jail for not cleaning my room/doing my homework, etc. For people in their 20s, I’d threaten that I was very bad at playing the harmonica, but I WOULD play it and we’d all suffer unless they paid me. and for the most amount of money, older men in suits would almost always pay $20s if I avoided eye contact and stammered a lot.
eventually, the managers started to feel bad because I was in the cage so fucking long and often, that I’d need someone to brace me when I got out because I’d have no feeling in my legs. wobbling like a newborn giraffe.
but I would also rake in at LEAST $100 an hour in charity.
so they were like, hey champ. can we, uh, give you a pillow to sit on. in the cage. would you like a pillow so you’re not just sitting on a cold metal slab. can we give you a pillow.
and I had to explain to them that if they gave me a pillow, people would think I was more comfortable, so they wouldn’t feel as bad, so I’d bring in less money.
the compromise was that they’d bring me a nice coffee every couple hours, which I would have to try to block with my body from the customers.
all this money went to charity. that’s what the money was for. it’s what was on the sign. but how much they were willing to pay was very contingent on how comfortable I looked, never mind the fact that I was still a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a cage.
and out of the dozens of shifts I did this on, not ONCE did ANYONE say, hey kid I’m going to go talk to your manager because what the fuck is going on here. they would just drop money in the basket, and I’d thank them and sip from my secret drink.
I actually had people get MAD at me that I told them I was far away from bail, they donated like $15, and then 20 minutes I got let out because my shift ended.
again. the money was for charity. it was on the sign that was very clearly placed on the upper half of my cage.
so yeah. even when people think they mean well. people can be really, really fucking stupid.
took me a bit but this is roughly what the cage looked like, without the middle platform
It was something that was originally used in the back for carting boxes, but was repurposed into a teenager cage
they’d wheel it out and the one open side would be backed against either a wall or a large display (like very tall rows of soda boxes or something)
Then I’d get in, they’d push the thing so it would be as flush as possible against the wall, and then I’d stick my hands through the bars for them to handcuff me. there’d be a sign up top explaining the bit, and then a shopping basket tied on front for people to drop the money into.
the handcuffs were fake, and I could unlock them myself for obvious safety reasons. I would get more donations if they were tight, though.
After maybe a month or two, I asked for a harmonica to sell the bit. they also tried giving me a mug, but it was too awkward with the handcuffs. I got kind of okay at playing the harmonica, but the main point was just to do one sharp blast to startle people into looking down, and then I’d threaten that I had no idea how to play, but would do so anyway unless they donated to my bail. managers actually got me a prison jumpsuit to throw over my uniform, but it was really fucking awkward so we stopped eventually. I also got a metric fuckton of mardi gras beads so I could lure small children over, to then mournfully tell them of my imprisonment due to not cleaning my room, etc. parents would be moderately irritated that I’d lured their children over with beads, but would respect the game that I’d given their kids a whole new fear. I had some parents even ad lib what I could have been thrown in prison for. guaranteed donations.
obviously, the prison bit worked best with younger girls. my roughly 50-60 year old manager once congratulated me on doing so well with the donations because I “looked like a cute sad little puppy in one of those RSPCA commercials. like a helpless puppy or a kitten.” wearing makeup and earrings also increased the rate of donations.
had to explain to another girl how I regularly got $20s, which was when an older guy in a suit walked by I’d rattle my handcuffs slightly to draw attention. 10/10 times the guy would walk over, and I had to tell this girl like. If you avoid eye contact and sound uncertain you will get at least $20. I am sorry. this is for children’s cancer research.
cannot stress enough that the other employees fought to get to be in the cage. customers were so awful and the weather was so shitty. jail meant sitting down with very few expectations, talking and joking with people.
Anyway. Shit was definitely not an allegory, though it could be used as one for about 11 different things.
“wise master,” said the student, “how can i attain greatness at posting?”
“simple,” replied the master. “through patience and long practice.”
“but master,” said the student, bursting out with impatience, “every time i go online i see people my age getting 50k notes, 100k notes!”
the master chuckled. “the self-assuredness of the 22-year-old lends itself well to the occasional callow foray into posting, it’s true. but for posts of true substance, one must turn to the mentally ill 30-something tgirls. observe.”
she pulled up a post on her phone. the student peered at it. he did not laugh. he said, “but master – this post only has 12 notes. and it’s not even funny.”
Rocks. I sometimes wonder what I’d do if I had Frederick Barbarossa’s resources and the leisure time to indulge my fantasy of amassing a large collection of pretty rocks.
Honestly, y'all, I’m begging you. Take the time to think and learn for yourself. Even if it’s just something casual like knitting or cooking. Exercise your brain. It’s important.
i have understood so many things about online leftist culture by the fact that when i said “your local community has people you will morally and politically disagree with but you cannot lock them out of accessing any tangible service you’re organising” one of the tags responding said “this isn’t about proshippers in here you’re not welcome” like. folks. focus with me. some of us are homeless here.
There’s a disconnect happening here because the primary function of social media for most casual users is to form a circle of friends around the usual things that friendships are built on: shared interests and lifestyles and ideas of what is important and what is unacceptable. When people are mainly doing leftism on social media, this encourages thinking of leftism as centered around establishing high-minded social clubs.
For anyone who still isn’t getting it from someone who helps people IRL: There’s a difference between whom you’re helping to feed at the mealshare and whom you’re choosing to hang out with for fun after the mealshare. You don’t have to invite a hungry person with opinions you don’t like to play board games with you, but you do have to help keep them from starving if you’re serious about leftist organizing.
Some days writing one thousand words is something you just kind of do to keep your hands busy between sips of coffee and some days writing one thousand words is the hardest fucking thing you’ve ever done in your life
collection of fonts i like / use a lot! all of these are free to download on the given site underneath. feel free to like & rb if this collection is useful.
sweet, might base an agricultural civilisation on this river, hope it behaves itself
might just fuck around and find out
Diversity win! This river has ADHD
Nile: You would not believe how long term you have to mismanage agriculture on my banks to start experiencing soil depletion. I will always be here for you Egypt.
Huang He: *kicks in the door* FUCK YOUR DYNASTY IT’S FAMINE TIME!!!
I took two semesters of Chinese history in college. The first thing the professor started with was “getting to know the rivers, Yangtze and the Yellow Rivers. You need to know them because they will play very important roles in the history of China. The Yangtze has been crucial to trade, movement, culture and more. The Yellow river, the Yellow River can’t be trusted as you will repeatedly see.”
If you got stuck on a question during a test or whatever you could start with “the Yellow river jumped the banks causing instability and chaos that quickly spread” and would be correct more times than you would be incorrect.
I love geographical chats when it completely devolves into dragging a landform.
if a sims movie is truly being made, i want it to be a horror movie where they do not acknowledge being sims and there is no evidence of them being sims except that they speak simlish and have plumbobs. i want ladders disappearing from pools and strangers breaking into houses and random basement prisons and people catching on fire while making macaroni. the whole thing must be in simlish with subtitles like a foreign film. that’s the only way you’ll get me to watch it.
ALT
ALT
ALT
