#ProjectRoomKey, the FEMA-paid program providing hotel rooms to the unhoused, allows security to unlock & enter participants’ rooms without notice at any time.
Many unhoused women have experienced sexual violence. Can’t imagine why that’s uncomfortable for them.
When you hear that an unhoused person “refused services” that includes...
- refused to give up their pet to get a short-term hotel room
- the shelter they were offered a space in isn’t safe for their gender/sexuality
- couldn’t consolidate all their belongings into two bags
People will literally be classified as “offered housing but declined” if they have tools for a job they do when they can and didn’t want to leave all their tools in a public park to be stolen just to get a hotel room worth less than the cost of re-buying all those tools
There are some private organizations like @selahnhc (I heard this information from one of their volunteers on his podcast) that help with storage but with all the money taxpayers voted for housing services LA still doesn’t own a storage facility for people’s belongings
I’m still on Facebook mostly because I have a friend who runs a wildlife rescue and had to keep a bobcat that’s unreleasable because he was dropped on his head by a hawk as a kitten and doesn’t understand he’s a predator
It’s an absolute Pixar movie. Fennel is his favorite toy.
This bobcat is not bright.
I cannot overstate how not bright he is.
An apex predator in his natural ecosystem, meant to patrol a range of multiple square miles and terrorize smaller wildlife, in captivity he has taken up sunbathing and eating vegetables.
Keeping a apex predator with two working brain cells is still expensive as hell, so you can buy this ridiculous potato some fennel here: forfoxsakewildlife.com/support-our-wo…
He’ll be an education animal in schools, post-pandemic, because he probably thinks he IS a human third grader.
America’s oldest living Olympic medalist died yesterday, aged 100 years, 7 months, 28 days. Colonel John Russell, born in 1920, medaled in team jumping in the 1952 Helsinki Olympics. He spent his golden years providing opportunities for young people to compete in show jumping.
As a young man, he served under General Patton in WWII.
In 2001, at age 81, he was inducted into the United States Show Jumping Hall of Fame, thanks to both his own competitive achievements and those of his students at the Russell Equestrian Center.
His first horse was a workhorse named Old Bill. When his father wanted the family workhorse back, he bought young John a pony, which he transported to their home in the back seat of his sedan.
By age 16, he upgraded to a Thoroughbred purchased from a traveling circus.
I won't inflict a picture on you, but imagine raw, oozing mounds of angry, weeping pink tissue growing from a wound that will not heal.
That's "proud flesh." And that's what I think of when I hear "Proud Boys."
It's called "proud flesh," I think, because it puffs out from a wound like a rooster puffing out his chest.
It's so ostentatiously pink that it almost seems like it's taunting you. Everyone who's battled it knows the feeling: "goddamnit, there's MORE today!?"
When proud flesh is present, a wound cannot heal, because skin cannot knit over it.
It's formally called "granulation tissue," and it usually happens on lower limbs where there's less soft tissue to prevent the movement of the limb tugging at the edges of a wound.