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casualty of the fight, a tenth of what Judah suffered, Judah bit me. hand is swollen, can't really move my fingers, got her to the e-vet and said fuck going to the er. no money for it and I wasn't going to sit there and wait and have them charge me $1000 to put gauze on and ask retarded questions that have nothing to do with my wounds, so butterfly bandages and wound wash will suffice. fuck it. I don't care.
Going through some drawers in my mum's house, I found this note hidden under the paper drawer lining.
I laughed a LOT when I found it!
The world without advertising.
Would you believe that your brain is flooded with around three thousand marketing messages per day? Everyday an estimated twelve billion adverts are displayed on our televisions with another three million radio commercials reaching our ears on a daily basis? But in September 2006, the mayor of Sao Paulo declared all advertising in his city a ‘visual pollution’, banning it all leaving pure white billboards and metal frames as replacement to the persuasive messages and lustful images. From this, I began to think, what would our scenery be like without advertising. What would our world be like without advertising subconsciously placed everywhere around us? Therefore these photographs are just an insight into London city without advertising. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to drive a negative or positive opinion on the multi-billion pound industry (my whole family is in advertising after all), just open your mind to the mass amount of advertising that sways your thoughts on the products that you buy everyday. Think about how many advertising logos, slogans or images that you can remember off the top of your head?
Diefenbunker: Canada's Cold War Museum
MESSAGE CONTROL CENTRE
Coded messages would have flooded into the Bunker during a nuclear attack. Throughout CFS Corp's operational years during the Cold War, the Message Control Centre (MCC) had to sort them quickly and accurately.
Staff at the MCC logged, processed, duplicated, and distributed all incoming and messages. They also had to ensure outgoing messages were authenticated and formatted before transmission. Even small errors could be catastrophic in a crisis.
Five staff members per shift handled outside messages, as well as the internal message system within the Bunker.
Notice the pass-through slot in the wall-cryptographers in the next room were ready to decode incoming messages and encode those being sent out.
Teletype technology was the fax machine of the 1960s and 1970s. Teletype machine operators could send and receive typed messages through secure cables.
Cryptographers kept secrets secret when the Cold War threatened to turn hot. This sheet is typical of the kind used to pass along messages to and from the MCC.
...They were floor to ceiling racks, and they had these clacking, clack clack clack clack little machines that were spitting out ticker tape... and it's piling up on the ground. You've got to stand in there with your military boots on and try not to tear any of it because if you're tearing a message in half, God help you because you can't splice it back together."
Brenda Langman, Telephone Switchboard Operator
(1984-1989)
Greenpeace activists at Walmart in Washington, D.C., May 22, 2016. Greenpeace is urging the world's largest retailer to move to sustainable sources of tuna and stop buying from Thai Union, a seafood company linked to overfishing and human rights abuses of its workforce.
What a wonderful surprise - a gorgeous hologram postcard and the longest letter I've ever seen (lol!) from my chatty Kiwi friend Cindy.
Thank you sweetie - it was so cool to catch up with all your news - hope you get some time to upload some photos soon! :~}
visit the linked site for more interesting quotes
designedquote.com/happy-birthday-to-the-best-uncle-ever/....
I like who I am, I like what I like, I like who I am when I am liking what I like. I listen to Panda Bear and feel myself crawling inside myself when my sun starts growing. I want to live in places that have hardwood floors and windows where plants can thrive. The bottles breathe themselves and swallow whole for good mornings. We transmogrify into what we’ve always wanted. Circles the square. Clouds and suns. Moons and stars. Dream me and I’ll promise to hold you close. Caps and bowls of dog food circling on the floor, waiting for fulfillment.
Loops at some arbitrary BPM in the middle of the night.
I don’t understand her, she is not from here, not from this place. Low pass filters and tube amps? Touching, we brush past on our way to the bed and warm sheets. Skin on skin and closeness, it curls and bends, feelings and sinkings. We reach out to find what we crave, the one thing we exist for. What else, really? Finding, solving. There is no other solution. The arbitrary variable can change all it likes but the derivative doesn’t care, it just eliminates anything not in terms of x.