Progress in the mini 221B: Watson’s bureau bookcase is ready, and it only took me a whole week to build it, easy peasy! next step is making some about 40 oh god books to fill the bookcase and find a way to make his chair.
she’s 12 and already has a distinct art style😭😭 i love her and we need to protect her at all costs! The future is black and female #SupportBlackArtists
today i found out that when monarch butterflies migrate south for the winter, all the ones that go across the middle of lake superior suddenly stop going south and go west for five miles and then continue south. which really freaked scientists out cos like What is in the Middle of Lake Superior what do Butterflies know that We Dont Is This The End Times etc. anyway turns out about a hundred million years ago there was a mountain there and the butterflies still think they gotta fly around it. classic butterflies
combine this with the fact that caterpillars literally turn into bug soup in their crystallis, meaning there is no central nervous system to carry over any information, but they seem to retain memories from caterpillar life regardless…
and it brings up a lot of questions about what kind of information can even be stored in genes, like… does genetic memory really exist? what does this mean for humankind? could a race of people develop an instinctual memory of the land like this? are there people whose bones tell the stories of ancient mountains? what about my people? is the diaspora something that can be felt among every one of us? are we all the living cumulation of hundreds of thousands of ghosts?
i am simultaneously fascinated and frightened by this. classic butterflies indeed
A San Francisco native, Chinese American, artist, lesbian, community
activist—Bernice Bing, was a bridge between many worlds. She came of age
during the Beat era and entered the San Francisco arts landscape in the
1960s with her paintings, which synthesize abstract modernist painting
with Chinese calligraphy.
If you ever feel like you must be the most unobservant person in the world, remember: I once spent half a year failing to notice that my new favourite restaurant was a money-laundering front for the Ukrainian mafia.
(I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but in retrospect, the fact that it was always dead no matter the time of day – I think the busiest I ever saw it was five people, myself included – well, that should have been a tipoff. Also, the waitstaff kept calling me “Mr. Prokopetz”, which I had assumed was just part of the restaurant’s gimmick, but given that “Prokopetz” is a Ukrainian surname, I’m now force to wonder whether they’d thought I was, you know, in the business. I just liked the pierogi!)
What I need to know is how on earth did OP finally realize his favorite restaurant was a money-laundering front for the mafia.
I’d like to say I put together the clues, but in reality, I just showed up one day to find that the place had been indefinitely shut down, and later learned it was because the managers had all been arrested.
What I really want to know is how good the food was?
Excellent, if your tastes run to the “heavy cream and too much garlic” end of the spectrum.
Every crime front I’ve ever eaten at has had completely amazing food, honestly. I am pretty convinced that if you want to open a front, you don’t choose “restaurant” as your front-business unless you have a relative who loves to cook.
It tickles me that this is evidently a sufficiently common experience that people find it relatable. (Seriously, check the notes!) We should write reviews or something.
did I just read the line “every crime front I’ve ever eaten at” with my own two eyes
Look, I went to college and lived my early adulthood in a town whose entire thing was import/export, and we had a lot of restaurants that were suspiciously empty except when they were closed and filled with very serious men in nice clothes.
They were usually run by someone who was about the right age to be some adult’s parents or grandparents, and in the case of the two Korean restaurants matching this description, they didn’t speak English. Universally though, they were very pleased to see customers, very proud of their cooking, and very very interested in keeping us far away from the aforementioned serious men in nice clothes. And despite having huge dining rooms and never having more than a couple customers, they never went out of business.
Also, because I am very, very stupid and sometimes don’t think before I talk, I once said loudly, over the phone, while sitting in one of these places, “Hey! Yeah if you want to meet us, we’re eating at [place]. You know…[place]? You totally know it. The Front, on Warwick st!”
The looks I got from every single employee were amazing and then I left.
We had a corner store/deli-place near our apartment in college. Everyone knew they were in on something and no one cared because they looked out for their customers and their neighborhood as a whole.
They started stocking my favorites because I mentioned them within hearing range once, would tell their “vendors” to move out of the way if we stopped in. I walked a different route home and got harassed one night and they asked after me. When they found out what happened, they declared “Consider it taken care of, you should never be afraid around here.” Never happened again.
Everyone needs their friendly neighborhood crime lord.
This is both my favorite and makes me fondly remember home. Less of the eateries, more of the mysterious retail joints that never seem to close despite no one ever buying anything, though. Well. Aside from the juice bar. Didnt last, though.
I found these places everywhere I lived. My favorite was an omurice place near my home in Japan, and a mother/son officially ran it. The food was incredible, and one night I was there and there was a boisterous crowd of BLATANTLY yakuza men eating and drinking. They started talking to me, and were super nice. Said they wanted to “practice their English,” and paid for my food and drinks and then said they wanted to take me to karaoke. That was a little alarming, but the mother/son, who seriously looked after me as the only foreigner in the area, said I should go, and the son came along. So we piled into a white landboat Cadillac and partied until dawn.
One of the older men at the party took me to my neighborhood and dropped me off out front (the car was literally too big to fit down the small neighborhood streets) and said that I had his blessing.
Which was confusing, but I was drunk, so whatever. Then I went back to the restaurant about a week later and the mother said, “the family approves of you. You may marry our son if you wish and be welcomed.”
I did not marry him, but wow. There were no hard feelings, either. They still helped out if I got harassed by the cops (which happened a lot in these smaller towns with no foreigners) or anything like that.
OH MY GOD 🙊. YOU SHOULDN’T SKIP THIS WITHOUT WATCHING. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT. THIS IS A MASTERPIECE 😻💕
(This video seems to take over all Tumblr. Btw the Oscar goes to @voordeel-ts, the owner of this art 😍.)
|• Cr: @voordeel from Youtube •|
You should check the link right here ⬇⬇
The [World] War does not resemble the legendary war in its process or its conclusion. If it had inspired or directed the development of the legend, then certainly the Ring would have been seized and used against Sauron; he would not have been annihilated but enslaved, and Barad-Dûr would not have been destroyed but occupied. Saruman, failing to get possession of the Ring, would in the confusion and treacheries of the time have found in Mordor the missing links in his own researches into Ring-lore, and before long he would have made a Great Ring of his own with which to challenge the self-styled Ruler of Middle-earth. In that conflict both sides would have held hobbits in hatred and contempt: they would not long have survived even as slaves.
J. R. R. Tolkien, of The Lord of the Rings (via one-small-garden)
Apparently this is a running gag in math textbooks
Oh, no, my friend, @aceyuurikatsuki . It’s not just that. It is so much more. Settle down and let your friendly neighborhood x-ray tech explain you a thing.
Throckmorton’s Sign, otherwise known as Throckmorton’s Principle, does in fact have to do with dicks. Because it is fairly normal for a dick to show up on a hip or pelvis x-ray. But the thing about Throckmorton’s Sign is, it’s not just that the dick is visible. It is a legitimate diagnostic tool.
Let me explain: let’s say a person equipped with a penis is in a car accident and has right leg and right side hip/pelvic pain. Their doctor will order x-rays. Unfortunately, sometimes fractures are so small that they can be missed, or, because the patient is in such bad shape and the images obtained aren’t the best quality, the radiologist can’t be sure for one reason or another if what they’re seeing is actually a fracture.
So what do they do? They look for the dick.
You heard me correctly. The dick.
Throckmorton’s Sign is when “the penis points to the area of pain.” So if the above-mentioned AMAB patient’s xray aren’t displaying a clear, obvious fracture, but their dick is pointing to the right side, 9 times out of 10, the injury or fracture is on the right hip or leg area, so then the radiologist will focus on that side while reading.
Now I know what my non-radiology followers are thinking. “Ace, this sounds like bullshit. This can’t be true. You’re lying through your teeth.” But I swear to you, it is 100% accurate. I have seen a positive Throckmorton’s Sign multiple times with my own eyes over the course of the past 7 years. Ask any x-ray tech, and they will probably agree with me.
Your dick is good for at least one thing, and that thing is helping a radiologist diagnose your upper femur, hip, or pelvic fracture.
willowfoot 