ilovevalium-deactivated20230725:
pikachu is drowning
This ainât about him
Climate crisis is coming for all of us. We need to vote for people who are not insulated from reality via donor bribes.
We need a robust EPA. The current Supreme Court wants to end the EPA and Federal power to regulate our air and water. Never forget.
Get involved. Vote.
The air quality that is so shocking in New York is identical to the air quality I grew up with in Los Angeles.
The EPA and the AQMD changed all of that, and I donât ever want anyone to have to experience what I did. It was awful.
We must insist on strong environmental laws and severe penalties for those who break them. We owe it to our kids.
self hate is an ugly ugly thing. coonery must be attacked no matter who does it.
To say all this without also including that white ppl lead everyone is crime by both raw numbers AND percentage. White people also lead everyone in the most heinous of crimes like serial murder, the killing of one’s family, rape, mass shootings, and school shootings. To pretend like whiteness is some halo is coon behavior at its highest.
PLEASE READ THIS ARTICLE
From another article i read today đ
he wasnât even there to be a contestant he joined the crew as a CHINESE TEACHER but the directors noticed his good looks and begged him to compete. poor guy made it to the finals and if he had been one of the winners he would have been contractually forced to be in a boy band whether he wanted to or not
this is the closest any human being has ever come to actually being sold to One Direction
The Crushing Weight of Not Knowing If There Is a Task
im starting to think this crushing weight is not about the tasks
Keying/graffiti-ing someones car is old news now if someone cheats we go at their wardrobe with a seam ripper
yknow what? Fuck you *unstitches all your shirts and jeans*
My mother did this to my father once. They got into an argument, my very pregnant and hormonal mother stormed offâŚexcept they lived in a tiny apartment so the only place to go was to shut herself into the closet for a good long sulk. And while she was sitting in there, fuming, she looked up and saw her sewing kit on the shelf, and all my fatherâs uniforms hanging right there.
So she picked one shirt and one pair of trousers, carefully, methodically ripped every third stitch out of every seam, and then hung them back up together so that he would be likely to pick them at the same time. This took her a couple hours, so by the time she was done, the anger had worn down. She came out, she and my father had a talk that ended in apologies, after which they were tired and went to bed. My mother swears up and down that she meant to warn my father about the sabotaged clothes in the morning, but he wore a different uniform set and they were both still feeling a little raw, so she didnât want to bring up the fight again. She decided to tell him that night instead.
And then she forgot.
Anyway, about four days later, my father apparently came home roughly an hour after he left for work, his clothes slowly, gently shredding off his body, the most bewildered expression on his face. âPaula,â he said, his voice mildly shell-shocked. âPaula, my clothes are broken.â
My mother promptly burst out laughing so hard that she went into labor. And thatâs the story of my birth, heralded by petty vengeance and utter confusion.