man i can’t wait to fully embrace my role as weird aloof cousin who never comes to family events and whomst you only know is still alive cos they occasionally like your instagram pictures
y’all didn’t even add a tutorial of how to do this so imma put one right here
1. type in cmd.exe into your windows search and right click on Command Promt search result and select “Run as Administator”. 2. Type/Copypase in
net.exe stop “Windows Search” and make sure Windows Search is in quotations. It should then respond saying “The Windows Search service is stopping” and then tell you it’s stopped.
This is only a temp fix though, if you want it switched off permanently then do THIS:
1. Press the Windows key + R at the same time and type in services.msc.
2. Scroll until you find Windows Search and double click it to enter its Properties window.
3. Change the Startup type to Disabled. Apply this change and you can exit out.
VOILA, NO MORE TAKEN UP DISK SPACE
Reblog to save a fucking life, FUCK CORTANA.
Are you kidding me? This is what has been wrong with my computer for 2 years?
Kimiko Nishimoto Self Portraits Japan (c. 2016) [Source]
Self-Portraits by 87-Year-Old Photographer Kimiko Nishimoto
Kimiko Nishimoto learned how to use a camera for the first time at the age of 71 and even furthered her skills by taking courses on digital editing to manipulate her images. While she mostly focuses on still life and nature photography, she has a series of hilarious self-portraits involving random costumes and staged falls.
Our country has fascism. This is the creator of rick and morty and community saying he’s not a nazi and you should too. To actually stand up and say no.
The discourse is over. Nazi white nationalist whatever the fuck they want to call it now are terrorists.
Their entire platform is to get rid of minorities.
BLM and antifa’s platform is “don’t kill me please”
Honestly, I wish it wasn’t so surprising to see a white man creator/showrunner loudly, clearly, and articulately explain why it’s not even a matter to entertain the IDEOLOGIES of fascism
This is the only proper mainstream media response the Nazis.
It is not radical, but in fact, a reasonable, moderate position, to decide genocide is wrong and evil, no debate.
someone: why do you read so much soulmate shit it’s cheesy
me internally: uhh probably because i’m obsessed with the idea of unconditional love and someone who won’t abandon me. the idea that i am destined for love and therefore inherently lovable means more to me than i can express with words, and compounded with the idea of someone who will love me forever, the concept of soulmates truly appeal to the (large) part of me that makes me feel that i’m going to die alone
wait….are any americans aware that the cia overthrew the democratically-elected premier of iran in 1953 because he wouldn’t concede to western oil demands….and how that coup was the reason for the shah’s return to power, the iranian revolution, and the resulting fundamentalist dictatorship…..like, america literally dissolved iranian democracy and no one knows about it???
No. No we don’t know about it.
Americans aren’t told this shit.
The only thing we’re taught about any Middle Eastern country in school is that 1) the region exists 2) it’s where The War is happening and 3) Muslim people live there. That’s it. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get into the Hammurabi Code and some early Babylonian stuff but American schools seem to think that if it happened outside Europe and before the colonial period, or makes America look bad and isn’t about A Very Watered Down Version of What Slavery Was, it’s not important.
Info on this is almost notoriously hard to find. It’s not in any texts on American and Russian involvement in the Middle East during the Cold War that I can find. You have to specifically look for a book about the Shah’s return to power, and even then you’d be hard pressed to find a book like that at your local bookstore. Once you get into some higher level college courses you might know about it, but the people who can afford those are more likely to already be indoctrinated into a certain Way of Thinking (read: they’re racist as shit) by the time they get there. And it’s almost like you have to know about it beforehand if you want to find information on it.
The only reason I knew about it is because there’s a thirty second summary of the event in Persepolis. Those thirty seconds flipped my entire worldview.
“All the Shah’s Men” by Stephen Kinzer is a good, accessible text for people who want to know more about this.
!!!
I had to explain literally this to one of my co-workers, who is so fuckin racist against Middle Eastern people it’s insane.
She’s 60. She never heard of this.
As I was explaining this and how, during the Regan years, we funded Osama Bin Laden to fight against Russia, leading to the destruction of much of the infrastructure in the region, one of the plant workers came in to get his badge fixed.
He works in the quality control lab. He served 15 years active duty in the Army. Super smart guy, has a masters in chemistry and another masters in biology, raises saltwater fish in his spare time for sale, has the saltwater aquarium setup of the gods. Raises rare corals too, some of which he donates to be used in re-seeding reefs around the world, but that’s a side tangent.
And he listened for a minute, then nodded and said “Yeah. I was there during that. I helped train people to fight. They wanted us to help them build schools and hospitals, after, but we were only interested in them as cannon fodder. Left the whole area in ruins. I wasn’t surprised when they hated us for it later. Told people then it would happen. We let them know then that they were only valuable to America as expendable bodies. Why wouldn’t they resent us for that?”
And she just looked floored.
“So…” She started, after a few minutes. “What do you think of Trump?”
“I hate him. He’s a coward and he’s going to get good people killed.” He didn’t even blink. “
She looked back and forth between us for a second, and then asked how I knew all this.
“I research things.” I said. “Google is great.” He nodded enthusiastically.
And she just sat there for a second and then said, really quietly, “I didn’t know.”
She lived through it.
American schools don’t teach you any of this sort of thing.
I can absolutely confirm. Public school education in South Carolina did not teach the realities of colonialism. It sure as hell didn’t teach us about racism. I had an AP Us History teacher named Ms. Outlaw. I was doing badly in school because of survivor stuff and trans stuff (in the 90’s in South fucking Carolina!!!!) and I was really feeling isolated. Being any stripe of queer just wasn’t spoken of, but I heard it was actually talked about in History of Minority Groups, so I signed up for the ELECTIVE class. The same woman that in my AP US History class framed the civil war as entirely economic and claimed that the sole purpose of the emancipation proclamation was to weaken the southern economy and thus help the north win the war–which TOTALLY WASN’T ABOUT SLAVERY–looked me dead in the fucking eye while acknowledging in the history of minority groups class that the civil war was, indeed, specifically about slavery. I was the only white kid in that class. That was my senior year of high-school and the internet was still not what it is today, so my awakening to the realities of white supremacy was slow and jerky, but it really started that day. Other things happened growing up that clued me in, but it wasn’t until the exact same teacher represented two diametrically opposed views of American history while making pointed eye contact with me that I picked up on what was obvious to every black student in that class.
Furthermore during my stint on a special forces ODA and in all the training leading up to it I learned all about SF’s history as being an instrument specifically for Cold-War era proxy warfare. That was our specific task before the war in Afghanistan and Iraq: to train indigenous people to fight our enemies in our stead, KNOWING that they would be abandoned once we were done with them, just like the Degar people (who we still call the Montagnards) in Vietnam. Most Americans don’t know about them in spite of a resettlement effort taken on by many Vietnam era special forces personnel to have them relocated to the united states (primarily in North Carolina).
Tldr; Americans are taught a very propagandistic version of history that focuses on “American exceptionalism” to the exclusion of major world events–especially ones that make us look bad.
The Civil War narrative changes based on where you live in the United States too. have very intelligent friends who grew up in North Carolina insisting the Civil War was purely economic. Meanwhile I grew up just north of Seattle, WA and learned it was primarily about slavery. We also had a way less creationism aspect to our scientific learning than my southern friends did.
Valhalla does not discriminate against the kind of fight you lost. Did you lose the battle with cancer? Maybe you died in a fist fight. Even facing addiction. After taking a deep drink from his flagon, Odin slams his cup down and asks for the glorious tale of your demise!
Oh my god, this is beautiful.
A small child enters Valhalla. The battle they lost was “hiding from an alcoholic father.” Odin sees the flinch when he slams the cup and refrains from doing it again. He hears the child’s pain; no glorious battle this, but one of fear and wretched survival.
He invites the child to sit with him, offers the choicest mead and instructs his men to bring a sword and shield, a bow and arrow, of the very best materials and appropriate size. “Here,” he says, “you will find no man who dares to harm you. But so you will know your own strength, and be happy all your days in Valhalla, I will teach you to use these weapons.”
The sad day comes when another child enters the hall. Odin does not slam his cup; he simply beams with pride as the first child approaches the newcomer, and holds out her bow and quiver, and says “nobody here will hurt you. Everyone will be so proud you did your best, and I’ll teach you to use these, so you always know how strong you are.”
————
A young man enters the hall. He hesitates when Odin asks his story, but at long last, it ekes out: skinheads after the Pride parade. His partner got into a building and called for help. The police took a little longer than perhaps they really needed to, and two of those selfsame skinheads are in the hospital now with broken bones that need setting, but six against one is no fair match. The fear in his face is obvious: here, among men large enough to break him in two, will he face an eternity of torment for the man he left behind?
Odin rumbles with anger. Curses the low worms who brought this man to his table, and regales him with tales of Loki so to show him his own welcome. “A day will come, my friend, when you seek to be reunited, and so you shall,” Odin tells him. “To request the aid of your comrades in battle is no shameful thing.”
———-
A woman in pink sits near the head of the table. She’s very nearly skin and bones, and has no hair. This will not last; health returns in Valhalla, and joy, and light, and merrymaking. But now her soul remembers the battle of her life, and it must heal.
Odin asks.
And asks again.
And the words pour out like poisoned water, things she couldn’t tell her husband or children. The pain of chemotherapy. The agony of a mastectomy, the pain still deeper of “we found a tumor in your lymph nodes. I’m so sorry.” And at last, the tortured question: what is left of her?
Odin raises his flagon high. “What is left of you, fair warrior queen, is a spirit bright as fire; a will as strong as any forged iron; a life as great as any sea. Your battle was hard-fought, and lost in the glory only such furor can bring, and now the pain and fight are behind you.“
In the months to come, she becomes a scop of the hall–no demotion, but simple choice. She tells the stories of the great healers, Agnes and Tanya, who fought alongside her and thousands of others, who turn from no battle in the belief that one day, one day, the war may be won; the warriors Jessie and Mabel and Jeri and Monique, still battling on; the queens and soldiers and great women of yore.
The day comes when she calls a familiar name, and another small, scarred woman, eyes sunken and dark, limbs frail, curly black hair shaved close to her head, looks up and sees her across the hall. Odin descends from his throne, a tall and foaming goblet in his hands, and stuns the hall entire into silence as he kneels before the newcomer and holds up the goblet between her small dark hands and bids her to drink.
“All-Father!” the feasting multitudes cry. “What brings great Odin, Spear-Shaker, Ancient One, Wand-Bearer, Teacher of Gods, to his knees for this lone waif?”
He waves them off with a hand.
“This woman, LaTeesha, Destroyer of Cancer, from whom the great tumors fly in fear, has fought that greatest battle,” he says, his voice rolling across the hall. “She has fought not another body, but her own; traded blows not with other limbs but with her own flesh; has allowed herself to be pierced with needles and scored with knives, taken poison into her very veins to defeat this enemy, and at long last it is time for her to put her weapons down. Do you think for a moment this fight is less glorious for being in silence, her deeds the less for having been aided by others who provided her weapons? She has a place in this great hall; indeed, the highest place.”
And the children perform feats of archery for the entertainment of all, and the women sing as the young man who still awaits his beloved plays a lute–which, after all, is not so different from the guitar he once used to break a man’s face in that great final fight.
Valhalla is a place of joy, of glory, of great feasting and merrymaking.
And it is a place for the soul and mind to heal.
THIS! This is the Hanged God who owns my loyalty, Old One-Eye who’s call I answer above all.
He is not one to turn the brave aside, asks no more than what one can give (Even if, at times, it doesn’t look that way.)
I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING.
Girda moves amongst the warriors, as she has ten thousand times. This battlefield smells of antiseptic and floor cleaner rather than blood and mud, but she can taste death in the air here too.
She adjusts her nametag, fixes her ponytail, and continues her rounds.
Many of the other nurses don’t understand why she likes working the terminal cancer ward. Nurses and doctors learn not to get too attached, to maintain a professional detachment, but it still hurts. It’s human nature for it to hurt, when you see a fellow human succumb to the inevitable.
(Many of the nurses favor working in obstetrics. There’s something magical about watching new life fight its way, blinking and new, into the world. This particular hospital has the best reputation in the country; Doctor Vanger is famous worldwide for her skill, for how she’ll fight tooth and nail to bring every mother and child through safely, no matter how small or sick or early. Girda inclines her head in respect whenever she passes Dr. Vanger; she has known Freyja for a thousand years and more, and the goddess is due her respect.)
Mr. Yu passed away an hour ago. It is likely a relief, Girda thinks. The old man fought to the bitter end, but in the end there was so much pain, and he’d been so tired.
He would have been a fine addition to the Allfather’s hall, but he wasn’t hers. As the orderlies prepared to wheel the body down to the morgue, one breifly reaches his hand over the body. There’s a flicker of something that might be a mirror, and Girda watches the soul of Mr. Yu rise.
Nurse Jiang smiles briefly, his eyes warm. The soul bows, and is gone. Girda inclines her head to Jiang, the greeting of one judge of souls to another. He smiles back at her, nods in response.
The night continues.
Near midnight, Girda’s feet take her to a certain bedside. She doesn’t need the machines to tell her that the woman here is about to die; she feels it in her bones.
Mrs. Lesten was beautiful, once. Now she’s shriveled, wasted. That once beautiful teak-dark skin seems tissue-thin, aged far beyond the woman’s forty years. Once-bright eyes are sunken, and once-lovely hair is gone.
Girda sits. She takes a frail, wrinkled hand, and waits.
She does not wait long. She never does. She always knows.
A sigh. An ending.
Girda reaches out, smiling, as the soul lifts free from mortal flesh. No other gods have a claim on this soul; the Allfather’s only criteria is those who died bravely. And this woman, oh, this woman did, this woman fought and there is no shame in losing to so great a foe.
“Hail, warrior.” She says. “Come. Valhalla is open to you. Come sit and dine with us.”
Mrs. Lesten is frail still, but already her soul is beginning to remember the shape of healthy flesh. The touch of Valhalla is already on her.
A YouTube video surfaced Wednesday depicting an altercation between what appears to be predominantly Latino youth and an off-duty Los Angeles police officer. In the exchange the officer attempts to drag one boy to his property before firing a gun during the scuffle.
In a Facebook post the Anaheim Police Department said that it is aware of numerous videos concerning the officer-involved shooting that occurred around 2:45 p.m in the vicinity of Euclid Street and West Palais Road. Film documents police arriving and immediately arresting the child.
The Anaheim Police Department provides a full-time Public Information Officer (PIO) to coordinate the release of information to the public via the media. Media inquiries should be directed to Sgt. Daron Wyatt at - office (714) 765-1521, mobile (714) 497-5633 or via email at dwyatt@anaheim.net
😤😤😤😢
keep re logging post it on your instagram snapchat twitter facebook everywhere
Oh good, another incident where the first half of it is missing and clarifying information is either absent or contradictory.
Well this should be interesting…
Hm.
Officer Version of events: He was telling off the kids over the ongoing issue of them walking through his yard. 13 year old threatened to shoot him so he was just trying to detain the kid and got assaulted.
Teens Version of events: Angry old man yells and swears at kids for being on his property, they tell him to chill the fuck out, Officer starts escalating to violence by grabbing a kid and refusing to let him go.
13yo arrested for suspicion of battery and making criminal threats. 15yo arrested for suspicion of assault and battery. Officer will not be detained unless a district attorney decides there is enough evidence and reason to press charges.
Given the notoriety of the LAPD, even if the officer is in the wrong I don’t expect to see anything to come of it.
I had to leave my computer because of this post.
fuck you cops; you deserve ZERO respect in any sense, congratulations you are now scum.
