"This is my first cabbage! You know, a lot of times they’re kind of soft, but this one is sold! It’s going to be good eatin’!"
"What are you going to make with it?"
"Well, this one I’m giving to my parents. You have to give the first one away or you just spoil the whole spirit of gardening."
This is the most victorious photo of cabbage ever captured.
So @TheCapitolPN tweeted this
which was promptly deleted. (G-Bb-A-D are the notes to Rue’s whistle.)
But if you had clicked inspect element before it was deleted
"You silence our voices, but we are still heard."
HOW COOL IS THIS MARKETING?!?! Like the rebels are hacking into the capitol’s twitter!!!!
A+ viral marketing guys
OKAY, LET’S TALK ABOUT ROBERT SMALLS (BECAUSE HE HAS A NAME, THANK YOU VERY MUCH).
Robert Smalls was born into slavery in 1839 and at the age of 12 his owner leased him out in Charleston, South Carolina. He gravitated towards working at the docks and on boats and eventually became the equivalent of a pilot, and in late 1861 he found himself assigned to a military transport boat named the CSS Planter.
On May 12, 1862, the white officers decided to spend the night on land. Smalls rounded up the enslaved crew and they hatched a plan, and once the officers were long gone they made a run for it, only stopping to pick up their families (who they notified) along the way. Smalls, disguised as the captain, steered the boat past Confederate forts (including Ft. Sumter) and over to the Union blockade, raising a white sheet his wife took from her job as a hotel maid as a flag of truce. The CSS Planter had a highly valuable code book and all manner of explosives on board.
Smalls ended up serving in the Union Navy and rose to the rank of captain there. He was also one of a number of individuals who talked to Abraham Lincoln about the possibility of African-American soldiers fighting for the Union, which became a reality.
After the war, Smalls bought his owner’s old plantation in Beaufort and even allowed the owner’s sickly wife to move back in until her death. He eventually served in the South Carolina House of Representatives (1865-1870), the South Carolina Senate (1871-1874), and the United States House of Representatives (1875-1879) and represented South Carolina’s 5th District from 1882-1883 and the 7th District from 1884-1887. He and other black politicians also fought against an amendment designed to disenfranchise black voters in 1895, but it unfortunately passed.
Smalls ended his public life by serving as U.S. Collector of Customs in Beaufort from 1889-1911. He died in 1915 at the age of 75.
And now you know Robert Smalls.
WHERE IS MY BIOPIC STARRING ANTHONY MACKIE.
DEPRESSION AND CODE:
»># Your brain is a computer
»># Depression is a computer virus, mangling data and messing up your input/output.
»># It adds extra information to strings
»> partner “She loves me”
»> partner = partner + “, but she’s getting tired of me”
'she loves me, but she's getting tired of me'
»># It fucks up your math:
»> x = 20
»> def people_who_care_about_me (x)
»> de: people_who_actually_(x)
»> people_who_care(x) = people_who_actually_care(x)
»># And it screws up how your system works.
»>str (“everything will be ok. you are loved.”)
syntax error: invalid syntax
»># Depression impairs the functions of how you manage and cope:
»> import pull_yourself_together
Traceback (most recent call last):
File “<pyshell#136>”, line 1, in <module>
ImportError: No module named ‘pull_yourself_together’
»># but it leaves less useful information
»># and it will screw up your resources
ImportError: No module named ‘friends’
NameError: you cannot access help at this time.
you cannot access help at this time
(Link to source)
does anybody else think tired and sleepy mean two totally different things
sleepy is cute and dozing off and happy but tired is 10 cups of coffee and murder
reblogging because the last graphic comment is FLAWLESS
So they always put a girl character in movies for someone to fall in love with?
my 7 year old son (astutely calling attention to the lack of female leads in action and adventure films).
While watching Johnny Depp and Penelope Cruz flirt in POTC On Stranger Tides my son asked me “Why is there always romance in every movie?” He had asked the same question last week when we watched Kirsten Dunst and Toby Maguire have their memorable moment in the rain in Spiderman. He’s 7 and not a fan of kissing scenes. I try to explain that many people, especially adults, enjoy romance so it’s a popular thing in movies.
He responds with “So they always put a girl character in for someone to fall in love with?” And I am floored, because I realize the message Hollywood has sent my child is that you only need to include one female character - and it’s not so she can be the hero. If a 7 year old boy can recognize that women in action films are nothing but a plot device it is time for the film industry to admit they have a problem.
Well, let me just put a stop to this shit right now. You can give me gold-plated day care and an awesome public school right on the street corner and start paying me 15% more at work, and I still do not want a baby. I don’t particularly like babies. They are loud and smelly and, above all other things, demanding. No matter how much free day care you throw at women, babies are still time-sucking monsters with their constant neediness. No matter how flexible you make my work schedule, my entire life would be overturned by a baby. I like my life how it is, with my ability to do what I want when I want without having to arrange for a babysitter. I like being able to watch True Detective right now and not wait until baby is in bed. I like sex in any room of the house I please. I don’t want a baby. I’ve heard your pro-baby arguments. Glad those work for you, but they are unconvincing to me. Nothing will make me want a baby.
And don’t float “adoption” as an answer. Adoption? Fuck you, seriously. I am not turning my body over for nine months of gaining weight and puking and being tired and suffering and not being able to sleep on my side and going to the hospital for a bout of misery and pain so that some couple I don’t know and probably don’t even like can have a baby. I don’t owe that couple a free couch to sleep on while they come to my city to check out the local orphans, so I sure as shit don’t own them my body. I like drinking alcohol and eating soft cheese. I like not having a giant growth protruding out of my stomach. I hate hospitals and like not having stretch marks. We don’t even force men to donate sperm—a largely pleasurable activity with no physical cost—so forcing women to donate babies is reprehensible.
"So, reading those three paragraphs above? I bet at some point you recoiled a bit, even if you don’t want to have recoiled a bit. Don’t I sound selfish? Hedonistic? Isn’t there something very unfeminine about my bluntness here? Hell, I’m performing against gender norms so hard that even I recoil a little.
This is actually what I think, and I feel zero guilt about it, but I know that saying so out loud will cause people to want to hit me with the Bad Woman ruler, and that causes a little dread. Why do we feel this way?
What kind of training and socialization did we receive that made us think there’s something terribly wrong about a woman who is hurting no one and is actually pretty nice but wants what she wants in her private life and doesn’t apologize about it? Is there a reason that we should bully women into pretending that they’re more interested in being selfless and eternally nurturing than they actually are, even at great cost to themselves?”