‘president of all of america’, my tits. you just spent the last six months belittling and disparaging the entire left, and having a laugh at the idea of someone making a meaningful effort to reduce poverty, and you want to talk to me about being the ‘president of all of america’? fuck off, lady.

i mean

my immediate response is to want to start shouting about how that’s not the same thing as emoji, but it’s not your fault so i will keep it to myself.

but in what universe would emoji ever be large enough to be visible in that level of detail? like, the captain hat one, they actually drew her giant ring in. a+ work from a ‘griefing the k squad’ standpoint, but i don’t understand how this would actually work in situ.

i am torn between my fervid desire to believe these are not real, and not wanting to offend bobby by suggesting he could have dreamt up something this... well, this.

because the republican voter base either knows all about the dog whistle going on here and supports it, or reads at a second grade level thanks to years of conservative attacks on public education

add it to the heap. ‘clean air act’. ‘patriot act’.

not one single detail about the psycotic entitled piece of shit with the gun, but here we are going after the woman who was attacked by a madman. 🎉

this doesn’t say anything about specifically mosquito prevention, so my inference was they were trying to do their buddies in industrial agriculture a solid and let them pour round-up into every body of water between the mississippi and the rockies.

about, oh, i guess it would be 18 or so years ago, when TMNT was the hot plastic junk craze at christmas, my boyfriend had spent the entire run-up to the holiday pleading for a donatello figure, but his mother didn’t have the money, so she asked his wealthier uncle. the uncle, who is to this day surly, single, and…

imagine being a woman five feet and three inches tall, literally with the last name of little, and having the sheer brass to say, ‘sure, why not tackle the largest instrument in the orchestra’

men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest form of intelligence, whether much that is glorious - whether all that is profound - does not spring from some disease of thought, some mood of mind exalted at the expense of the general intellect.

fair point. but, there’s garbage that’s mostly papers and all that dog fur i sweep up every five minutes, and then there’s garbage that’s 3-day-old porkchop trimmings and baby diapers. frontier is the latter kind of garbage.

frontier is a garbage airline. i will never fly them again.

as with all chemical ingestion situations, it’s a question of dose and tolerance. too much can cause vomiting and damage red blood cells, but what constitutes too much will vary depending on the dog.

do they even sell xylitol in consumer form? so far as i’m aware the major artificial sweeteners on the consumer market are all saccharin or aspartame.

that’s what i would have thought, but the little dink pictured below sometimes has to be tricked into eating his actual food, so who knows

bad things for dogs:

they could sing it for your first dance, if it’s remotely danceable. that’s the sort of adorable, maudlin shit that i love in a wedding.

when i told my bf about this i framed it as: