Sue Lillian Brown, better known as Betty Broadbent, was only 18 years old in 1927 when she joined the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus as the youngest professional tattooed woman in the U.S.
I am completely fine with chest tattoos turning out like hers. This woman is BADASS.
Grown-Up Calvin and Hobbes, by Craig Mahoney
Col. Chris Hadfield: “Safely home - back on Earth, happily readapting to the heavy pull of gravity. Wonderful to smell and feel Spring.”
Read about Canadian Space Agency astronaut Chris Hadfield’s return to Earth following historic five-month mission here: http://www.asc-csa.gc.ca/eng/media/news_releases/2013/0513.asp
Just awesome. Just plain awesome.
“This is ground control to Major Tom…”
Well this is goddamn heartbreaking.
The little guy wandered back to his home in New South Wales, Australia last week only to find it had been cut down and chipped by logging operations. A volunteer with WIRES, a rescue operation licensed by the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, said the koala had been sitting on top of the wood pile for over an hour looking confused, the Daily Telegraph reported.
I hate everything.
I hate everything about this place that isn’t directly related to the friends that I’ve made here, the family that I’ve started here.
D.C. itself is a wonderful place.
The culture of this business we’re in [journalism] is just soul-crushing.
The self-importance, the humorlessness, the bad sense of humor, the fact that people deliberately take things out of context, the feigned outrage, the dedicated lack of real-keeping, the almost aggressive insulting of one’s intelligence that marks successful political discourse and combat and media discourse…. the relentless self-importance.
The unhealthy offense taken at basic profanity.
The decided lack of creativity.
The class politics that never get acknowledged as class politics.
The disdain for poor people.
The aggressive refusal to recognize that there’s such a thing as white privilege.
The aggressive refusal to recognize that the media in Washington is relentlessly just white and rich and unchanging and self-satisfied about all of these things.
The inability to know how to operate on a subway. The inability to call the Metro a subway. The aggressiveness with which people take offense when you call the Metro a subway because you grew up in a real city with a mother fucking subway.
The restaurant culture is good. You know, people do like to cook here.
I made the mistake of telling an acquaintance about how I’d just moved to an “up-and-coming” neighborhood of DC at a bar a couple weekends back. Her mouth literally dropped open, and she dramatically inquired, “Why?” “How do you cope?” She asked.
[How I wish the conversation actually continued] Cope? How do I cope? I’m thrilled to return home to my home and my warm bed after this pricey, disingenuous night of drinking, and grateful to have a job that allows me to live anywhere near this city. Coping is how I’d describe this conversation we’re having.