This HAS to be in California.
There couldn't possibly be any way a virus could be transmitted through an act of spreading one's legs, could there? Perish the thought...
I have a discussion place in the Loathing lobe of my brain for people who come up with garbage like this...
The one flake that can't be put into the box is the one who dumped all the others onto the table...
And I have no biases against anyone, before anyone unleashes their ire on me. Hair color, skin color, eye color, ethnicity, gender, sexual preference, and all of the other motes that make up each and every one of us inhabiting this world, now, in the past, and the present, are particles that make up a greater creation, and I look at each person based on individual creative beauty. Each is unique and each is important to me. So, calm down, and just chuckle. And if you must satisfy the need for vitriol and retaliation for an imagined slight, then hit me with a Scots-Irish joke. That's my ancestral palette... I can guarantee you I won't get angry or go on a rant.
A Blonde calls her boyfriend and says, “Please come over here and help me. I have a killer jigsaw puzzle, and I can’t figure out how to get started.”
Her boyfriend asks, “What is it supposed to be when it’s finished?”
The blonde says, “According to the picture on the box, it’s a rooster.”
Her boyfriend decides to go over and help with the puzzle. She lets him in and shows him where she has the puzzle spread all over the table. He studies the pieces for a moment, then looks at the box, then turns to her and says,
“First of all, no matter what we do, we’re not going to be able to assemble these pieces into anything resembling a rooster.”
He then takes her hand and says, “Secondly, I want you to relax. Let’s have a nice cup of tea, and then….. he said with a deep sigh” …………
“Let’s put all these Corn Flakes back in the box
I'm not endorsing the man, but look around you, wherever you are in the world, and ignore the incessant babble and lies, the painted, staged scenes. After you've closed off the interference and static of the world's leaders and businesses and celebrities, begin to FEEL what is true and real. It will awaken you. To awaken from the slavers. Awake is what we need, not Woke. Woke is a diversion, a script that other people have written for the lesser of us all...
This just made me actually giggle and snort out loud. A feature length film of "dancing" cat figures, presenting scores of personality spins on that, just ran through my head. Art film? Meh... but it would be fun as fuck to script and film something like that.
Hit me up with any ideas and let's have some literary and cinemagraphic-auteuristic fun... Let's make beautiful weirdness...
lets say, hypothetically, im a cat. a kitty cat. and for the sake of debate, lets say i dance dance dance.
This is quite possibly the most human and spiritually beautiful thing I've encountered in a few days. I felt my eyes widen and the corners of my mouth spread further into a warm smile with each syllable. This lesson I shall carry with me for many a day.
A spiritual-thought provoking view:
Do you ever just take in the idea of ‘strangers’? Folks that you see just passing you by onwards with their lives. We hardly think much about it, which is fair, we’re so caught up in a million things occurring in our own lives, but so are they— and I think therein lies the allure of this.
Honestly, for a moment, realize just how beautiful it is. Every face that you pass by, every awkward eye contact, every back of the head you walk behind, every arm you bump, every heel you accidentally step on, everyone.
Each of these people are more than their bodies and initial glances, they’re souls who’s origins span eons, they all have Spirit Guides taking care of them, they have aspirations & goals, fears, wishes, dreams they’re still pondering the meaning of, a phone call or text message they’re looking forward to or dreading, decisions they’re contemplating, materialistic possessions, ways of analyzing situations, their faith, personal shames and guilts, their own personal & cultural values & beliefs, emotions and ways of dealing with them, personal secrets, their own quirky habits, personal fears, their favorite and worst memories they’ve made in this life thus far, loved ones & friends who’ve passed that they miss, their own traumas and the ways they’re healing, their own willpower with reason to conquer each day, their own expression of identity & the way they love, and most importantly, their own level of consciousness they’re doing their best at. But through all of this, every individual expression each lifeform shows, we find ourselves all connected by one simple, Universal factor: Divinity. Whether you come from Stars & Galaxies afar, whether you come from inside this Orbit, whether your origins are utterly unknown, we, as a unified collective, are all connected through the beauty and mystery of Source Energy, and we stem from the same Light & Love that emits through all beings journeying this life.
So, my friends, I ask you to practice a simple way of perception, try to find that same connectivity in all people you come across, no matter their race, their age, their sexual orientation, their gender identity and expression, their religion or lack thereof.
Let’s love more!
Peace, Love & Light to you all!
I love when kids reach out with the full extent of their creativity. And this girl is brimming with brilliance in my estimation. I hope she keeps that light burning for decades to come.
Meet six-year-old Abigail. A few months ago, she and her mom Miriame decided they’d do something special to mark this year’s Black History Month.
The mother-daughter duo ultimately teamed up with photographer Ernie Michael Hall and graphic artist Glen Thomas to recreate seven iconic album covers. And the results are absolutely stunning and spot-on!
“I wanted to pay homage to some awesome singers,” Miriame told BuzzFeed via email. “I basically picked artists I grew up listening to in my childhood and as a young adult. I wanted to show my daughter some of the singers I’ve loved throughout the years.”
Everything is perfect about these images, from the way Abby captures the unique essence of each artist to the small styling and design details, like the clever incorporation of Abby’s name throughout each album title.
The ambitious project took one month to complete, which wasn’t an issue for the young model. “She loves taking pictures, acting, and dancing and loves dressing up and getting into character,” Miriame said.
Miriame also used this project as an opportunity to present Abby with more diverse representations of black women. “Young black children are aware of the current racial climate in the US because it’s always in the media,” she explained. “I hope we ensure that our children have pride and self-love and love the color of their skin and the texture of their hair.”
When asked whether she had any additional comments, Miriame simply stated: “Black girls rock.” There you have it!
And in case you wanted to see just how accurate these recreations are, check out these amazing side-by-sides. First up we have Whitney Houston’s 1985 self-titled debut album:
Toni Braxton’s 1993 self-titled debut album:
Missy Misdemeanor Elliott’s 1997 debut album Supa Dupa Fly:
Brandy’s 1994 self-titled debut album:
Alicia Key’s 2001 debut album Songs in A Minor:
Erykah Badu’s 1997 debut album Baduizm:
And Anita Baker’s 1986 breakout album Rapture:
Love this so much!
What I think I might look like come Saturday, October 31st, 2020, at 12:02 AM, a single minute after the tolling of my 54th birthday. The roads of life are getting steeper, and my trucks are getting permanently looser... (Note: That's a skater reference.]
That is all. Let the decomposition begin...
This was captivating... at once quietly powerful and resoundingly human...
Reuben Henry - Non Violence. Natural Records. 1968.
Already knew that... I have witnessed it scuba diving off Panama City, FL. I would love to have the reckless abandon and impunity of these mollusks sometimes...
I do think, however, that there is a deep-seated reason for the aggression, and it stems from the very likelihood that it could wind up as calamari. Solution: Punch a fish in the face, knock its ass out and maybe offer it up as an alternative dinner choice to a seafood aficionado. (I don't think it will work, but I like the way they think...)
Someone asked me today who some of my favorite writers were, and after a bit of reflection I responded: my partner of 16 years. My conversational counterpart raised an eyebrow, then asked, "Oh. Well what has she written?" My response: "She wrote two beautiful souls, our children, into being, and has assured me of a spectacular happy ending." Yes, she's definitely my favorite author...
A labor of love is an understatement...
Happy birthday, Mr. Van Gogh.
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