I read a gawker article about the origin of teddy-bears, which had no new information, but did include a link to the greatest newspaper clipping I have seen in ages.
It is from 1907 and the headline is “TEDDY-BEARS DESTROY GIRLS MATERNAL INTEREST SAYS CATHOLIC PRIEST.” He goes on to say that girls playing with teddy bears instead of dolls will destroy the race.
It would be, quote, “one of the most powerful factors in the race suicide danger.”
Everything old is new again!
In fairness, I played almost exclusively with stuffed animals instead of dolls—I got Strawberry Shortcake, mostly for their little plastic animal buddies, which scaled nicely with the MLPs—and I also have no maternal instinct whatsoever. CORRELATION OR CAUSATION?!
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
Time for my routine mammogram! Let’s see how the tech handles the Wombat Experience.
My first question is always “Is there an emergency release on this thing?”
Got a very chatty tech, the best kind!
ME: Before you squish me, is there an emergency release on this thing in case of a fire?
TECH: Oh yes! It’s not like the old days. I knew a woman who got stuck in one.
ME: TELL ME MORE
TECH: Well, I didn’t see it, but the power went out and the compression is supported to release, but it did not! So she was stuck in compression.
ME: My god! I hope it wasn’t a long power outage!
TECH: I don’t think it was. I hope.
*awkward pause*
TECH: So, left breast first…
It’s D&D night and the bugbears have come to negotiate to ask the party to either kill or kidnap the hedgehog archaeologist that they came to rescue.
DIPLOMAT: Prince says take stupid hedgepig and go!
PARTY: We want to do this.
DIPLOMAT: Prince gives you a thousand gold if you kill hedgepig.
PARTY: Why?
DIPLOMAT: Horrible lying hedgepig!
BARD: I’m going to roll insight to see if he’s telling the truth.
PARTY: *proceeds to roll the worst collection of botches and low rolls imaginable*
GM: As far as you’re concerned, this hedgehog is worse than Hitler.
Also, most Pokémon games are super cheery and life-affirming and random strangers tell you that life is about learning to live in harmony with people and nature and Pokémon.
In this game, you are informed repeatedly that if you don’t work, you don’t eat.
(I personally find this contrast hilarious, but I’m me.)
Preach. 35 is a lot of chickens. Making a garden produce enough food to feed a family is a JOB. And that doesn’t even get into the issues of storage, distribution, etc. And I say this as someone who loves to garden and who has space!
Their next stage is “if that family also kept two hogs.”
Friends, there is no power on earth that could entice me to keep hogs. If you put a gun to my head and pointed at a pair of shoats, I would commend my soul to the saints and tell you to pull the trigger.
Wait, I misread. TEN hogs?!
I’d load the gun for you. Hogs are not hobby livestock.
That horrible moment when you realize that you should have worked out a timeline for the fantasy series ages ago, and are now grimly trying to work out, based on the mention of people’s ages, what year X must have happened.
(I am trying to figure out what year the Saint of Steel died and it’s turned into a complex algebra equation with a lot of “Stephen is 37 in X+3 and Galen is 20 in Year 0 (the Clocktaur War) so solve for X…” while I dig through manuscripts trying to find people’s ages.)