Toshia San on Instagram

Trump is all like "Australians sell their beef to us, but they won't buy any of ours 😡"

Which.... yeah? Of course???? Why would we import external beef from so far away when we produce more than enough to meet our own needs??

Not to mention that USA still has both mad cow disease and foot and mouth disease, but Australia doesn't -- AND America has increasingly lax commercial-level health and safety standards, meaning the risk of pathogens like MCD/F&M spreading through the US are significantly increased, and we don't have either here in Australia, so of course we don't want to import beef from a country that could conceivably spread the diseases to us???

But even aside from that. There are not that many Australians. But there are a lot of Americans. AND Australians eat an average of 23.4 kilos of beef per year but we produce 2.2 million tonnes. We produce WAY more beef than our population eats. So of course we don't import much????? And of COURSE it's not from America, which is both significantly further away than our current importers (primarily New Zealand and Japan), AND which has significantly lower health and safety regulations than we do????

Meanwhile, Americans average aprox 37 kilos of beef per person per year, but produces around 12.4 million tonnes. USAs population is 12 times larger than ours but only produces 5 times more beef than we do, AND consumes more per capita than we do. Of course USA imports large quantities of beef. Because their domestic production doesn't meet their domestic demand. Meanwhile Australia's production vastly outweighs our domestic demand, so of course we don't import American beef?????

Thats...... that's how imports and exports are supposed to work???? You export excess of what you have to someone who has less of it, and in turn, they export to you the produce/products that YOU don't have. This is fucking basic??????????

"Waahhh, Australia won't import American beef 😭😡" yeah???? Of course we don't????????

PLUS!!!!! Overall, Australia imports 34 billion dollars worth of stuff from America per year. Meanwhile America only imports $16 billion from us.

Putting tariffs on a country that imports more from you than they export to you is uhhhhhhhhh, FUCKIN' STUPID. If america tariff everything we send to them it's on all of $16b worth of stuff. If we tariff everything of theirs then we'll be slapping taxes on more than double what they can tax us.

Trump is such a fucking moron.

This user WOULD survive in Australia.

Local bigot scared of colours. 😔

@eryaforsthye 😂

what if there was a snabbit. just consider it

The oversteer is going to be obscene

Bohatyrka by sculptor Vasily Korchevoy

Here's some more amazing plus size sculptures by Vasily Korchevoy:

"Standing in Marble"

"Luxurious"

"Lush"

"Prosperity"

See more here: (https://www.saatchiart.com/v.korchevoy)

Also check out artist Adam Shultz...

"Untamed"

"Sisters"

"Aphrodite"

See more here: (https://artcloud.com/artist/adam-schultz)

These are only some of a HANDFUL of pieces of art I have ever seen that truthfully portray what fat bodies look like.

Which makes them very dear to me and also very frustrating.

Because not seeing variances in body is a huge part of why fat phobia persists.

Make more REAL ACTUAL fat art, not that honkai star rail size 10 bullshit.

Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.

Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.

She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.

So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.

“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”

She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may set conditions.”

“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”

“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”

“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.”

Keep reading

“By 1900 child mortality was already declining—not because of anything the medical profession had accomplished, but because of general improvements in sanitation and nutrition. Meanwhile the birthrate had dropped to an average of about three and a half; women expected each baby to live and were already taking measures to prevent more than the desired number of pregnancies. From a strictly biological standpoint then, children were beginning to come into their own.

Economic changes too pushed the child into sudden prominence at the turn of the century. Those fabled, pre-industrial children who were "seen, but not heard," were, most of the time, hard at work—weeding, sewing, fetching water and kindling, feeding the animals, watching the baby. Today, a four-year-old who can tie his or her own shoes is impressive. In colonial times, four-year-old girls knitted stockings and mittens and could produce intricate embroidery; at age six they spun wool. A good, industrious little girl was called "Mrs." instead of "Miss" in appreciation of her contribution to the family economy: she was not, strictly speaking, a child.

But when production left the houschold, sweeping away the dozens of chores which had filled the child's day, childhood began to stand out as a distinct and fascinating phase of life. It was as if the late Victorian imagination, still unsettled by Darwin's apes, suddenly looked down and discovered, right at knee-level, the evolutionary missing link. Here was the pristine innocence which adult men romanticized, and of course, here, in miniature, was the future which today's adult men could not hope to enter in person. In the child lay the key to the control of human evolution. Its habits, its pastimes, its companions were no longer trivial matters, but issues of gravest importance to the entire species.

This sudden fascination with the child came at a time in American history when child abuse—in the most literal and physical sense—was becoming an institutional feature of the expanding industrial economy. Near the turn of the century, an estimated 2,250,000 American children under fifteen were full-time laborers—in coal mines, glass factories, textile mills, canning factories, in the cigar industry, and in the homes of the wealthy—in short, wherever cheap and docile labor could be used. There can be no comparison between the conditions of work for a farm child (who was also in most cases a beloved family member) and the conditions of work for industrial child laborers. Four-year-olds worked sixteen-hour days sorting beads or rolling cigars in New York City tenements; five-year-old girls worked the night shift in southern cotton mills.

These children grew up hunched and rickety, sometimes blinded by fine work or the intense heat of furnaces, lungs ruined by coal dust or cotton dust—when they grew up at all. Not for them the "century of the child," or childhood in any form:

Child labor had its ideological defenders: educational philosophers who extolled the lessons of factory discipline, the Catholic hierarchy which argued that it was a father's patriarchal right to dispose of his children's labor, and of course the mill owners themselves. But for the reform-oriented, middle-class citizen the spectacle of machines tearing at baby flesh, of factories sucking in files of hunched-over children each morning, inspired not only public indignation, but a kind of personal horror. Here was the ultimate "rationalization" contained in the logic of the Market: all members of the family reduced alike to wage slavery, all human relations, including the most ancient and intimate, dissolved in the cash nexus. Who could refute the logic of it? There was no rationale (within the terms of the Market) for supporting idle, dependent children. There were no ties of economic self-interest to preserve the family. Child labor represented a long step toward that ultimate "anti-utopia" which always seemed to be germinating in capitalist development: a world engorged by the Market, a world without love.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

I resent how things are built for a male body.

I'm not a small woman. In fact, I'm an absurdly average woman in terms of size. I'm just under 5'5. I'm in the middle of the "healthy" BMI range. I wear a size medium in most clothes. I wear a size 8 shoe. I'm the mediumest woman in the world.

And everything is too fucking big for me.

I test drive a new car. I love it... except that everything is slightly too big. The indicators are just a few millimeters beyond a comfortable resting positions for my hands. The steering wheel is slightly too high - I can't quite see the speedometer behind it. If I adjust my chair high enough to see the speedometer, then I can't reach the pedals. The steering column isn't adjustable. I have this problem in a lot of cars.

I have a desk. I've always found the desk a little uncomfortable, but I blamed it on the cheap thirdhand office chairs I usually buy. So I buy a new office chair. It's very comfortable... and it made me realize that the desk itself is too tall. If the chair is high enough to keep my shoulders and elbows in a comfortable position, then my heels don't touch the ground.

I go hunting for height-adjustable desks. I've always wanted a sit-to-stand desk anyway. Most of them don't go significantly lower than the desk I have. The ones that do are more expensive.

My hand aches when I hold my phone. I specifically bought this phone because it was smaller than the full-size model. They don't even make phones this small anymore. I have a google pixel 3a. The pixel 9a is the same size as the 3 XL. What was "XL" in 2018 is just the size phones are now. My hand hurts.

Everything, everywhere, all the time is just slightly too big. Only slightly. It's a minor discomfort, barely noticeable most of the time, but always echoing in the back of my mind: This world was not built for me.

a lot of stories treat romance like it makes the relationship between two characters self explanatory and to be honest it doesn’t

story: they're in love :)

me: why?

story: what do you mean? they're in love :)

me: what do they bring to each other's lives? what do they admire about one another? what draws them to each other?

story: love :) :)

me: ok... so what is that going to look like now?

story: like love :) :) :)

me: are their personalities going to clash at all? are they going to have arguments? learn to compromise for each other? will they need to adapt to sharing their life with another person? is it going to be smooth perfect harmony from day one? are they going to be always together? see each other sometimes as their occupations allow? how does this relationship affect their lifes.

story: they're in love :) :) :)

what they don't tell you about making friends is you gotta be a lil annoying. you gotta push past the fear of "what if they don't want to talk to me" and simply ask someone how their day is going, send a meme. you cannot connect to people if you're both just awkwardly waiting for the other to start.

You're not immune to being the bully btw. You're not immune to being in the wrong

"But i'm-" there is no identity or state of being that makes you immune to hurting someone. You can be convinced that you are in the right for doing so. You can be convinced that you're defending someone by doing so. You have always got to examine if you're taking pleasure in hurting someone or if you're actually doing something good.

[Image text: there's actually no political label or identity that absolves you of doing harm.]

i wish ppl on this website, and within leftist circles in general, were a little less gung ho about making jokes or statements like "billionaires arent people" "nazis arent people" "police arent people"

there is no level of evil where a human stops being a human. if you decide to kill them for their crimes, then you are killing a human. and sometimes that is justified! oil execs and war profiteers have destroyed countless lives in service of their own sick greed, and given the chance to enact that same violence on them, id probably pop their heads like a pimple.

but it is important that we do not shy away from the reality of that choice. it is a human life that is being ended. a person with interiority, feelings, family.

if we stop considering any group as people, even a group defined by their own evil actions, then we are drawing a line to divide society into persons and non-persons, and stating that those non-persons do not deserve to live.

i hope i dont need to explain why that is a dangerous position to take.

these people and all of their evil, their greed, their hatred, are just as much a part of humanity as art, culture, language, food. they are a part of us that has grown malignant and cancerous, and like a cancer, they must be excised for the sake of the whole--but they are still a part of us, made of the same stuff as us, down to their cores.

evil humans are still humans.

i think r/BenignExistence is my favorite subreddit 🥲 i love these pleasant little glimpses into strangers' lives

The Winter Soldier vs Obadiah Stane | What If...? S3E3

Bucky Barnes in 'What If...?' S03E03

"Technique!" THEY'RE SO CUTE WHAT THE HELL

THAT SMILE!!!