Dutch photographer and artist Ellen van Deelen has created a photo series with the rat-musicians. As the main characters were her pets Moppy, Witje and Rosie.
One day Ellen saw a mini-guitar playing in the shop window, and immediately she presented the picture of her two students as musicians. Not without reason…
It’s racial discrimination to treat someone less polite than someone else would be treated in the same circumstances, because of race. We can’t ignore the case of blatant racism. We MUST draw public attention to such cases. We must ensure that racists are identified and socially discredited. There are no reasons or excuses for racism. It’s just disgusting.
When Suh said she would report the action to Airbnb officials, the host replied: “It’s why we have Trump.”
Suh said that comment made her painfully aware of how threatened minorities have become under the Trump administration.
“For me personally, to now have someone say something racist to me and say it’s because of Trump, it was my fears coming true,” Suh said. “That people who held these racist beliefs felt emboldened.”
The host went on to say she would “not allow this country to be told what to do by foreigners.”
Suh is an American citizen who has called the U.S. home since she was 3 years old.
“If this is my experience as a light-skinned Asian woman, what is it like for people who have darker skin than me or are Muslim?” Suh wondered aloud. “What is it like for people who are undocumented or not U.S. citizens yet?”
BLESS HER FOR BEING VOCAL ABOUT THIS DO PEOPLE REALIZE HOW REAL THIS IS YET!?
Ok so i work for Airbnb. And they actually don’t fucking play with discrimination. At all. We were banning people who were going to Charlottesville for the riot. But they can’t do anything unless we are told. And the most common thing i hear is “i don’t want to start a ruckus or cause any trouble” but.. in order to prevent this stuff… we need people to. Don’t stay silent.
Reblogging again for that! ^^^^
Also apparently the host was fined $ 5,000 and was forced to attend a class on Asian Americans, as well as apologize and serve community service. Which is awesome.
They had not been seen together in the museum galleries for quite a while. Monet’s “Women with Umbrellas” are once again side by side in the Impressionist gallery.
AND THEN THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE END!!!!
ok every time this post comes by i resist geeking out on it but NO LONGER so these women are probably the same woman and that woman is monet’s wife camille doncieux. he painted her a LOT. but fun fact: monet had this asshole friend named ernest hochede, and ernest racked up some debts, and like an asshole he basically just fled the country, leaving his wife alice and their six kiddos behind. monet immediately got alice and kids to move in with him, camille, and their two kids. at this point, monet, alice, and camille became my favorite probably historic poly threesome. they lived together, taking care of the kids. they were so poor that alice and camille took turns wearing the nice dress so they could go out with monet. when camille got uterine cancer and began dying, alice helped monet cope and took care of things while he painted camille over and over. when camille died, alice is the reason monet was able to survive. when ernest finally died, monet and alice married, and remained married until alice died. at that point, blanche, the oldest daughter, took care of monet until he died. anyway, the point is, the umbrella ladies are probably the same ladies, but as far as i’m concerned, there WAS a historically queer poly family in that household and they were wonderful.
Not feeling too patriotic this year, but I’m game to celebrate Steve’s 100th. Saw my old July 4th/Steve b’day doodle making the rounds again [link], and thought it would be funny if Bucky were the origin of the joke.
Garnet is a running stone. Feet pounding on wet concrete, laces tied too tightly, soles worn down to slick rubber but, still, never slipping.
He knows it can be a healing stone, a purifying, stone, but has never felt the sort of peace howlite or quartz (rose or otherwise) bring him from its red depths.
Garnet tells him to seize his opportunity between his teeth and run. Run upright, wind in your hair, hands clenched around a phone blasting drums, towards the finish line. Run like the world is being created under your feet. Run like your soul is begging you to, fast and hard and free.
A car horn honks, ripping past screeching guitars, and grabs his attention.
Andy pulls his headphones from his ears, keeping light on the balls of his feet so his legs don’t begin to cramp. His mom is looking at him from the driver’s side of the family’s mini van, one eyebrow raised.
“Do you,” she yells over the roar of the river on his other side, “have any idea how far from home you are?!”
“Seven point two miles,” he says before his teeth can click over the words. He wasn’t keeping track, but he’s always been able to gauge distance like that. He rubs the back of his neck. “I…I lost track of time. Sorry.”
His mom huffs and leans over to open the passenger side door. “I’d worry about you running away if it weren’t for the fact I saw your laptop on the kitchen counter.”
“Mom,” Andy says, ignoring her comment. It’s true anyway. “I can’t get in the car, my legs will cramp–”
“We’re supposed to be over at the Jimenez’s in an hour,” she tells him and pats the seat. “If you were really worried about cramping, you would have remembered that.” At the look on his face, her eyes narrow. “Unless you did remember and that’s why you’re seven point two miles from home.”
“No,” Andy denies and forces himself to laugh. “I love going over to see the Jimenez’. For sure. Unquestionable.”
“Unbelievable,” his mom mutters and waits to pull a u-turn until he shuts the door and puts on his seatbelt.
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It’s not that he doesn’t like the Jimenez family. He does. It’s just that no one in his family believes that their youngest, Marin, is trying to place a curse on him.
NineofShades 