The most dangerous phrase in the language is, “we’ve always done it this way.”
"Come on, let’s mix it up!" The heart surgeon says.
"B-but we’ve always done it this way!" The other replies, "this is how you replace a heart valve."
"That’s the most dangerous phrase in the human language!" The first surgeon replies haughtily as he inputs a fruit loop into the patient’s heart. "This will be his valve. He will be a fruit loop in a world of Cheerios."
(taken from this post on the experiments of Harry Harlow)
This is serious business, because this is a large part of how sexism, racism, homophobia, rape culture, ethnocentrism, etc. continue to happen.
That bullshit heart surgery example doesn’t even make sense though, does that person think that we’re still doing heart surgery the exact same way we’ve always done heart surgery? As if medicine isn’t constantly changing and updating? Wow it’s almost like people are finding excuses to not have to think critically about the world!
George Takei describes the moment when he and his family were sent to an internment camp.
it’s the 8th month
I cracked the code
October is the 10th month though
It was originally the 8th month but then Julius fucking Caesar decided to add in July and August after himself and his nephew Augustus
we should totally just stab caesar
when i was in kindergarten i had this babysitter who cooked the best steak i’d ever had and i’d always ask what it was and she said “people” every time and i’d laugh and ask what it really was and she’d just reply “people” and i found out in first grade that she got arrested and was sentenced to 50 years-life in prison
and that’s the story about how my babysitter was basically hannibal lecter and i was will graham for a whole year
He is taking a course on Marxist ideology.
He says, “The only real solution is to smash the system and start again.”
His thumb is caressing the most bourgeois copy of the communist manifesto that I have ever seen,
He bought it at Barnes and Noble for twenty-nine U.S. American dollars and ninety-nine cents,
Its hard cover shows a dark man with a scarved face
Waving a gigantic red flag against a fictional smoky background.
The matte finish is fucking gorgeous.
He wants to be congratulated for paying Harvard sixty thousand dollars
To teach him that the system is unfair.
He pulls his iPhone from his imported Marino wool jacket, and leaves.
What people can’t possibly tell from the footage on TV
Is that the water cannon feels like getting whipped with a burning switch.
Where I come from, they fill it with sewer water and hope that they get you in the face with your mouth open
So that the hepatitis will keep you in bed for the next protest.
What you can’t tell from Harvard square,
Is that when the tear gas bursts from nowhere to everywhere all at once,
It scrapes your insides like barbed wire, sawing at your lungs.
Tear gas is such a benign term for it,
If you have never breathed it in you would think it was a nostalgic experience.
What you can’t learn at Barnes and Noble,
Is that when they rush you, survival is to run,
I am never as fast as when the police are chasing me.
I know what happens to women in the holding cells down there and yet…
We still do it.
I inherited my communist manifesto,
It has no cover—
Because my mother ripped it off when she hid it in the dust jacket of “Don Quixote”
The day before the soldiers destroyed her apartment,
Looking for subversive propaganda.
She burned the cover, could not bring herself to burn the pages,
Hoped to God the soldiers couldn’t read,
They never found it.
So she was not killed for it, but her body bore the scars of the torture chamber,
For wanting her children to have a better life than she did,
Don’t talk to me about revolution.
I know what the price of smashing the system really is, my people already tried that.
The price of uprise is paid in blood,
And not Harvard blood.
The blood that ran through the streets of Santiago,
The blood thrown alive from Argentine helicopters into the Atlantic.
It is easy to say “revolution” from the comfort of a New England library.
It is easy to offer flesh to the cause,
When it is not yours to give.
Catalina Ferro, “Manifesto” (via dialecticsof)
I feel like people do need to remember that there is a very real, very painful, very human element to the word “revolution”.
Early into filming, they became lovers, and as Hyler and other remembered, “they were together most evenings after shooting.” At the same time, Audrey relocated from her first residence, an apartment hotel at 3435 Wilshire Boulevard (near Paramount Studios), to a two-room furnished rental at 10368 Wilshire (closer to Holden’s residence), where their rendezvous were conducted. In those days of the “morals clause” in Hollywood contracts - a paragraph that could destroy a career if public decency was offended by an actor’s private life - Audrey and Bill had to be extraordinarily discreet. In this case, the matter was compounded by the fact that he was married and a father. Of Mel, Audrey was uncertain; in any case, no promises had been exchanged, and he was away at work. Playful, romantic and attentive, Bill was, for the time being, irresistible.
(…) Holden’s life was ordinarily complaisant - until Audrey. In late October , he brought her home for dinner (a curiously repeated pattern in the marriage), and Brenda at once picked up the scent of a real threat. Later, she demanded that he end the liaison, but the lovers simply continued the affair at her apartment and sometimes, more injudiciously, in their studio dressing rooms. “Audrey embodied everything that he admired in a woman”, according to Holden’s biographer, Bob Thomas. “She was young - eleven years younger than himself. Audrey considered him the handsomest man she had ever known, and she was entranced by his manly charm and gentle humor”..
(…) She was completely won over when he promised to divorce Brenda and marry her. In a delirium of happiness that made their onscreen love scenes eminently credible, Audrey at once raised the issue of children: she wanted two, three, four and more - she would abandon her career to have a family. For a few weeks, until their last scenes together, Holden temporized, and then broke the news of his sterility. On the spot, Audrey ended the affair. “I really fell in love with Audrey Hepburn,” Holden said later, “but she wouldn’t marry me. So I set out around the world with the idea of screwing a woman in every country I visited.” Years later, Audrey’s reaction to his tale of international intrigue consisted of two words only: “Oh, Bill!”