It’s a bit rambly and there are some parts I definitely disagree with, but:
- If 100% of the game’s human beings (or human-replicas) do not deviate drastically from the idealized form (go look at any Greek sculpture), something is wrong.
- If you can count the number of black people in a single game on one hand, something is wrong.
- If all the breasts in a game look roughly the same way, something is very wrong.
Where ‘n’ is a very large number.
Because weddings are a pageant and, little did I realize until I got there, I was on display. And I was not doing anything. I was not singing, or acting, or giving a persuasive speech, or trying a case, or teaching a class, or any of the other things I usually do when I am standing in front of a group of people and everyone is looking at me.
Despite agreeing on a $1.7 million purchase price for the home Jan. 4, the Sabbias never signed a purchase contract. According to the complaint, Lowe told the Willborns’ agent, Dylcia Cornelious, on Jan. 11 that the Sabbias had changed their minds and were taking the home off the market, despite it being listed for sale for almost two years.
According to the complaint, Lowe said in a HUD interview while under oath that while he was representing the Sabbias, Daniel Sabbia told Lowe “he would prefer not to sell the home to an African-American, though he qualified the testimony, saying ‘but if it was for the right price he did not care who bought the house.’”
…Amurka, fuck yeah.
This is the story of the great war that Rikki-tikki-tavi fought single-handed, through the bath-rooms of the big bungalow in Segowlee cantonment. Darzee, the Tailorbird, helped him, and Chuchundra, the musk-rat, who never comes out into the middle of the floor, but always creeps round by the wall, gave him advice, but Rikki-tikki did the real fighting.
- Rudyard Kipling, ‘Rikki-Tikki-Tavi’ in The Jungle Book (1894) [full text]
Fun fact: A friend gave me the nickname Rikki after our middle school English class read Rikki-Tikki-Tavi.
Wow. Decided to give The Goulet Pen Company a shot on Thursday, and my order came in today.
Look at this delicious spread! Free ink swatches, couple promo slips…plus a hand-written note, complete with wax seal! (The paper around it is slightly wrinkled because I beat it up a bit—as in, ‘folded in half’—to see just how supple it truly was. It’s completely intact.)
…And all these treats despite being flooded with orders. There were at least 46 of us who jumped on the 1670 pile.
Color me impressed. I’m officially a fan ❤
“…Ever have one if those days where your mind just won’t stop reminding you of every time you’ve screwed up over the past…however-many years?” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, ruining it.
Hawthorn kept her dark eyes on him, but said nothing.
“I know it’s not all mistakes. I know I’ve done good. But somehow…” Galen shook his head. “None of it measures up. Nothing ever does. Nothing is ever good enough.”
A spray of bullets hit, piercing flesh and bone with a sick wet sound. Darkness followed in their wake, and Jean died for the second time.
