My Friend Made An Interesting UQuiz!

Kabosu did not deserve to have her image turned into cryptocurrency. She did not deserve to have the meme she was known for across the world to become a code word for a fascist coup.

Her name is Kabosu. Not Doge.

He brought us a rainbow when we said goodbye

because life feels so dull without him by our sides

SOCIAL MEDIA "ACTIVISM" IS KEEPING YOU FROM ACTUAL ACTIVISM - HERE'S THE TRUTH

You think you're staying "informed" by doomscrolling through your social feeds 24/7? That's exactly what they want. It's literally designed to keep you angry, scrolling, and - most importantly - doing absolutely fucking nothing.

HERE'S WHAT NO ONE TELLS YOU:

It's OKAY to edit your feeds so you don't see that shit when you're just trying to exist

You do NOT have to consume the world's suffering every second of every day to be a "good activist" - and by the way? You're not even getting "informed" by scrolling. You need to actually look up real articles OFF of social media to understand what's happening

Hitting like and share isn't activism. Sorry. It just isn't.

You wanna actually do something?

Learn your neighbors' names. ACTUALLY TALK TO THEM about what's happening

Join your school board and ask them face-to-face why they're against queer education

Stand up to your racist uncle instead of "keeping the peace" (peace for WHO exactly?)

Find out what abortion rights groups are ALREADY DOING in your area instead of reinventing the wheel

Join an actually inclusive church (you know, like Jesus would've wanted) and see what they're ALREADY DOING to make the world better

And for fuck's sake, stop saying "oh I don't talk about politics" - YOUR SILENCE IS POLITICAL

NEWSFLASH: You don't have to start the fucking underground railroad by yourself. That shit ALREADY EXISTS - you just never had to use it before. Lucky you. So volunteer if you're a safe person, at whatever level works for you:

Send money

Show up in person

Pack supplies

Make pamphlets

Whatever you can do

Not everything's gonna get you in the history books and you know what? IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER.

And here's something else that matters: Going to trauma therapy - REAL trauma therapy with a therapist informed in decolonization practices - is a RADICAL ACT. If you have the means to do it, DO IT. Healing yourself is part of the work too.

AND LISTEN UP BECAUSE THIS IS IMPORTANT: IT'S OKAY THAT IT TOOK YOU THIS LONG IT'S OKAY THAT YOU'RE STARTING SMALL IT'S OKAY THAT YOU DON'T KNOW EVERYTHING

NO ONE EVER PUNISHED THEMSELVES INTO SUCCESS.

You grew up with some racist/sexist views? Yeah, most of us did. You can't get stuck there. There's too much at stake. It's time to deconstruct. It's time to do the work.

But scrolling and sharing posts while feeling guilty? That's not the work. That's what they want you to think the work is.

Get off your phone. Talk to your neighbors. Show up at meetings. Stand up to family. THAT'S the work.

Absolutely obsessed with this pic from @emmsiplier of my fucked up dead body

furry haters piss me off like for sure fuck these fun creative and inspired chill people because i think theyre weird. i just saw art of an anthro wolf that is also a fridge and it had fridge magnets on it and its tail was a bag of ice it was fucking awesome

Just heard CNN compare the united healthcare shooting to Virginia Tech and Columbine

I’m sorry?? Those are NOT the same

EDIT: I don’t remember if this is exactly what they said but like. Idk that’s what I heard. And hey, if they’re speaking in a way that can be misconstrued as that, then I mean

Today it is Monday, August 26, 2024. At 17:28 CST, Crosby was put down.

He died in the arms of my dad and I.

A year or so ago, he suffered an injury to his spine. We never really figured out what it was, or at least I didn’t, but his back legs began to atrophy. Over time, his ability to walk decreased steadily until we had to use a harness to move him around.

The past few days, he hasn’t been eating anything. We’ve tried feeding him chicken, cheese, popcorn, chips, dog treats, anything to try and get him to eat. Nothing worked. He drank water slowly, and occasionally ate crushed ice cubes. He was laying around all day, and we’ve had to change his positions for him. He was skin and bones, his spine, ribs, hips, and skull visible through his fur. His nose was dry for several days. On Saturday I got the news that this might be my last weekend with him. He had become so miserable and there was nothing we could do. The car ride to the vet, I held him in my lap so he could look out the open window because he was too weak to support himself.

He was an amazing dog. We got him when I was in second grade, and he’s lived about twelve long years. He was a rescue from a shelter where I used to live, we got him because he was insistent on following me even though he was terrified whenever I looked at him. Despite this, he was such an affectionate and caring dog.

We never knew his breed. The DNA gave us husky, coon hound, and poodle, though he looks more like a black lab and a Great Dane mixed together. His black fur became dotted with browns as he grew up, the white T-shape on his chest reminding us of our last dog, Touchdown, who passed shortly before we got him. He met our other dog at the time, Fumble, though they didn’t know each other very long.

I grew up with Crosby. He’d always paw at us whenever he wanted to be pet more. He’d howl and yell whenever we did. He wasn’t the best with other dogs, and it took him a second to warm up to people, but he would lean on your leg once he got used to you. He’d stand by the table as we ate dinner, his eyes always trained on the food we sometimes dropped. He used to hop our four-foot fence without so much as a running start. His legs were so long and he loved to run. He’d kiss you even after you asked him to stop. He loved the snow and would even try and eat it when there was hardly any on the ground. He loved my dad so so much.

I want to thank the Lord for giving me such an amazing companion for so long. I pray that he feels fulfilled and happy with his life, and that he knows how much we love him. I pray that he will be free of his pain as he leaves. I pray that when he gets to heaven, Fumble will introduce him to Touchdown, and he can finally meet the dog that was taken from us so suddenly by cancer. I pray he will be able to run as much as he wants and bark at all the other dogs up there and he might finally be able to socialize.

I’m so thankful for him. I will miss him.

At least I know that his fur will always be knit into my clothes, no matter how much I try to wash it out.

Guess what day it isssssss

How has nobody thought of mad scientist Phillip Graves yet like

Think of the possibilities

Okay but I gotta put this in text because it’ll be too long for my normal tags bullshit

Every time. Every fucking time. This happens in 80% of my dreams and it’s just. HOUGE and I’m so happy it does

In my dream, it’s a place called Duluth. Now I’ve been to actual Duluth. This is not actually Duluth

Dream Duluth has a giant bridge that’s so big that it scares me to drive across. The bridge is so big and the route right into the city has a little section where people will check your passport or vehicle or IDs or something? I’m not sure why. The bridge gives me so much anxiety, and there’s another highway around one of the skyscrapers in that city that also gives me anxiety. For some reason, I think I work in that building. There’s even a dream inside

The city itself is beautiful. Sunny. There’s a big statue by the lake it’s built on, just like the real Duluth. There’s monuments that look like mirrors, even one that looks like the WWII monument in Washington DC. Or is it a Vietnam or Korea monument? Idk. There are hills in the city. It’s not too warm. Much like the real Duluth as well, there’s a restaurant along one of the boardwalks and piers. Unlike it, though, it’s built out onto the water. You can look into the lake from the restaurant and see the guitarfish and sawfish in the water

The beaches are something I always think about. One beach is covered in dark sand. Shark teeth always wash up there. Shark teeth and fish bones. Sometimes it’s small, nestled between that restaurant and a boardwalk. Other times, the beach is longer and pale. Sand tiger sharks and white sturgeon wash up on the shore. There are shovelnose sturgeon in the water. I try and save whatever I can, but sometimes they’re too big for me to carry on my own. Sometimes, when I wade into the water, I get close enough to touch them, but I always stop myself because I’m afraid I’ll bother the animals

There’s another beach as well, one where people always go. Umbrellas and kids and chairs. In the tideline, you can find trinkets and toys that were left a long time ago. They’re not new, rather old and rusted, but sometimes I find interesting keys and metal baubles and gemstones in the sand. I keep them for myself

There’s a white building with a blue haze inside. I don’t know why. It’s homely, but I don’t want to go inside. There was a bloody handprint on the doorframe once. I don’t know why. I think I relaxed after that

There’s a city skyscraper made completely out of glass on the outside. The ground around the statue is made of concrete. I don’t know who that statue is of, but it’s someone important. The statue is bronze

There’s a red brick church in the city. It’s old, and there’s a mosaic courtyard. In the courtyard, there’s a gazebo made of brick. Inside that gazebo is a bell, and the ceiling is made of mosaic tiles that look like an ornate sky. Inside the church there are suits of armour, and the cathedral is impossibly large compared to the outside. The windows are tall, and the light that flits in is always white

I like when my dreams reuse locations from past dreams. like oh cool we doin a bottle episode