I’m not gonna argue that you have some existential obligation not to schedule things on Jewish holidays but I am gonna say that when you do it, it makes Jews a little less welcome in your space
And this is especially an issue in a space that is already for a marginalized group and is trying to be intersectional, eg. an LGBTQ group
And like, I know there are Jewish people who’d still go, but tbh that’s kind of part of the issue — by scheduling things this way, you’re contributing to the stress of having to choose, the pressure to assimilate, and the tension of being a Jew in the diaspora
Non-Jews can reblog this
If you’re like me, then your first reaction to this was “Okay, but there are a lot of holidays and a lot of religions, how do I schedule around all of them?”
So I went and found an Interfaith Calendar of Holy Days for major religions.
Thank you for this addition! I was actually thinking of linking this exact calendar. And very good point about checking in with someone from the religion — many holidays are minor or at least don’t really get in the way of going to events. Like, scheduling something on, say, Tu Bishvat would be totally fine.
So fascism is the revolutionary movement of the petit-bourgeoisie,
right? Well, I feel like a yuge important element of the modern rise of
fascism is the weaponization of rich white boy fragility. These people
routinely make laughing stocks of themselves in front of God and
everybody by posturing and pretending to be all hard, getting smacked
down, and running crying (literally) to the cops without even the
slightest hint of contradiction, irony, or shame.
The modern
fascism is the revolutionary movement of a bunch of losers who’ve spent
their entire lives talking shit without getting hit; and now that they
are getting hit, they’re equal parts upset and confused about it.
Bunch of nerds in the notes winging that I’ve mischaracterized their president’s base of support when this post never mentions Trump at all. Very telling.
So I learned today that California issued a third gender option on Driver’s licenses for nonbinary people, as X… which uh. I have so many feelings about this and none of them are good.
I'mma elaborate before some weirdo with no braincells hops on my dick about this but the reasons I’m not feeling this is that now law enforcement in particular can use this information to make the lives of trans and nb folks a lot more difficult, especially if you’re a person of color. There are stories about officers asking for pronouns of a citizen when arresting them and then that person ends up in solitary. I don’t want to give them one more reason for public institutions to give me shit, lol, miss me with it.
JESUS I forgot how deeply embarrassing the sex scenes in Origins are, the fucking gentle elvhen sex serenade in the background while two dead eyed models plank on top of each other
I’d like to add this on, to make things easier for everyone, since the books aren’t…actually in the correct order if you just read them in chronological order.
It’s a link to a masterpost of mine with all of the books in their proper order, using the site above, so that you don’t have to play a guessing game with which books you should be reading when.
Please don’t take the words “read animorphs” lightly, I experienced these books at nearly thirty years old and I am still shaken by some of the body horror, vividly accurate representations of psychological trauma and at least a dozen explorations into the terror of genocide.
And I run what is presently the internet’s largest horror-writing contest
garrosh would be a bad friend. like he would be a really shit tier bad friend just all around. like youd start to tell him about your feelings and your uncertainty about the future and he would just immediately cut you off and start talking about himself and how he doesnt understand why people peel string cheese when you can just take bites of it, do those people keep peeling the banana after it’s off the same way they eat their string cheese, how come people dont just eat it like a normal thing? and so you clam up and stop talking about whatever sad shit you were tryin to say because obviously he doesnt give a shit and he goes back to playing video games on the couch and yelling at the tv. but then one day youre shit out of luck and it’s like 2am on a tuesday and you know for a fact he’s awake, he answers his phone immediately, he calls you at 2:08AM on a tuesday even though you texted him first, probably so he could hear the sound of his own voice, and he tells you he’s coming over, probably so he has an excuse to drive his huge truck above the speed limit on the empty streets, and when he gets to your place he calls you (again) even though you texted him that it’s late and you can’t talk right now to “come outside” and you have to climb into his big shitty truck close to three in the morning in your pajamas while he eats drive-thru tacos and listens to bad music on his car stereo with the blown out bass crackling. he doesnt even drive around, he just sits there parked with you in the car and talks about how this band, this multi-billion dollar platinum record-selling forty years and counting band, is so underappreciated and people just dont know good music anymore when they hear it. and you sit there eating nasty tacos with him and listening to the full fifty four interminable minutes of master of puppets beneath the sound of him complaining about the way call of duty’s prestige system skews the actual skill level of the players. but then the cd finally makes it to the last track (there’s no aux mini jack in his truck since it was his dad’s old truck but he “fixed it up”) and youre sitting there with grease all over your face as damage inc breaks from the intro and then you start crying uncontrollably while james hetfield screams his fucking brains out and garrosh actually turns it off to tell you to stop it. and then he goes “at least i’m here, aren’t i?” as if it actually makes a fucking difference, like he wants some fuckin credit for doing the absolute bare minimum, but all you do is say “yeah” and wipe your face with a scratchy napkin. “i better get some sleep” you say and he goes “yeah” and you slip out of his jacked-up truck and neither of you say anything else but you can hear the first few strums of battery rattling his windows as he drives away listening to the same fucking cd again. three hours later you jump out of your skin from dead sleep to a snapchat notification. garrosh has sent you a picture of a small 7-11 coffee with nearly a fistful of empty caramel flavor shots discarded beside it. there is no caption
