This is it. This is the most showjumping-pilled thing I have seen. To everyone who has never had the (dis)pleasure of attending a sponsored jumping event this is what it is like. Shoutout to that one time I went as a kid and a horse was paid for by H&M so that was it’s name. “H&M’s Finest” or some bullshit. It was only allowed to wear H&M branded horse gear. There it was, jumping over sponsored jumping obstacles in all it’s fast fashion glory. It refused to go over an obstacle shaped like a Haribo gummy Bear. The absurdity of life hit me in it’s purest form that day. God truly did abandon His creations.
that was snippy lol but you have honest to god got to get over the propaganda spoonfed to you about heroin and meth in particular. no they are not magic evil killers that instantly take over your brain like an invasive fungus no there is no such thing as any drug or medical intervention that is 100% risk free. you already know heroin and meth users they are members of your communities and social circles and societies not bogeymen from a childrens book. this kneejerk treatment of heroin and meth like they’re uniquely addictive and dangerous and too awful to even be spoken is racialised & classed & it kills people. get over itttt
if you use prescription stimulant medication (addressing my own demographic here) or are supportive of people who do, you really need to deconstruct your biases and stereotypes of street meth users. we are the same people, in many cases using the same drug.
if you weren’t identified as having ADHD before you started using meth, realized it allowed you to clean your space, engage with your hobbies after work, get into novel and exciting situations with new people, then recognized you’d developed an addiction AND THEN sought legitimate help? now you are most likely not ever going to be allowed to access the prescription stimulant medications other people with ADHD can because you have been diagnosed with a substance use disorder first.
dear fellow legally sanctioned amphetamine (& related) users: how long would it take if you stopped being able to fill your Adderall prescription to look for another source of methamphetamine, even if it wasn’t as safe? how long would it take if you stopped being able to fill your methylphenidate prescription before you decided it might be worth trying amphetamines, even if they tend to have more side effects?
when I take my medication as prescribed and don’t feel hungry all day, sleep much less than when I’m not taking it, get muscle spasms in my eyes, and get very irritable when I’m coming down from it those are normal and expected side effects I was counselled on when I started and can openly discuss at my medication management appointments, where I can adjust my dosage or even try a different formulation to minimize them and maximize the desired effects. when someone uses street meth and experiences the same effects (maybe more severely, since they have less control over their dosage or method of ingestion, and taking a lot of a drug is helpful if you feel like shit and want to feel different) it’s scary, it’s evidence they’re dangerous or unstable, they’re just a crazy tweaker, and they are at risk of harassment by civilians and police, easily leading to fines and incarceration.
I know not all recreational meth users will meet the diagnostic criteria for ADHD, but seriously. there isn’t a meaningful distinction between like, good, productive, legal stimulant use and bad, recreational, illegal stimulant use. If you’ve ever taken your stimulant medication later in the day so you can go to an event while it’s still in your system and have the energy to socialize more, or used an extra dose (or, like me, have an additional immediate release dose for the explicit purpose of being able to decide to take it later in the day if I think it would be helpful) so you can finish a personal project after work, you can understand why someone might want to use meth “just for fun”.
Just in case anyone needs a reason to not feed wildlife- this story out of Washington is a pretty good reminder. This lady has been feeding raccoons for years and now she’s just had to call authorities for help because hundreds of them are parked out on her property and are so aggressive trying to get food that she can’t get into her house.
Neighbors have been reporting excessive raccoon mortality on the adjacent road and several attacks on pets, but still everyone on this video was just talking about how cute it is. Why can’t people see how unfair it is to disrupt an animal’s life like this? What do they think will happen to these raccoons? They should be scampering through a forest or marsh eating crayfish and berries and bugs, not hotdogs and cat food. This is a nightmare situation and it’s entirely one person’s fault.
I wrote a short vaguely historical vaguely spooky ghost story about Jews and burial rites and I have to justify it existing so here it is.
“Are you the leader of the Jews?”
There was no good that ever came from that question. Rabbi Jacob stood in the doorway, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame, ready to yank it closed at a moment’s notice.
“Well, not all of the Jews.”
The man at the door made a frustrated little grunt. He was clad almost completely in dark grey clothing that seemed to fade into the shadows of the darkened street behind him. The collar of his coat was pulled up so high that it was impossible to make out more than a pair of sharp grey eyes beneath the brim of his hat, and the cloak he wore over the top of it concealed most of his body. There could be any number of guns, knives, or angry mobs hidden under there.
“But the ones in this town, yes? You are their priest, you lead prayers and weddings and so on?” the man said impatiently.
“Rabbi. Yes. I’m the rabbi, that’s correct.” Jacob said, stiffening his posture and assuming the most neutral expression he could manage. Being completely ignorant didn’t exclude someone from being completely dangerous–if anything, that heightened the risk. “What can I do for you?”
“Rabbi,” the man repeated, as if to seal it into his memory properly. One gloved hand squeezed the pommel of his walking stick. “And you preside over the funerals of your people, and perform the rites to send them to the next world?”
“Yyyyyes?” Jacob shifted his weight to his back foot, poised to slam the door in his face. This sounded unpleasantly like an opening for a death threat.
“To any of them, regardless of the sins they carried in life?” An eagerness entered the man’s voice.
“Of course. Though sin as a Jewish concept differs from the Christian…mm. Yes, of course.” The scholars of old might have debated the nature of the evil in men’s souls until the crack of dawn but Jacob had no intention of doing so at half-past midnight with a complete stranger.
The shadowed man took a half step forward and Jacob leaned back to maintain the distance between him. “What about a gentile?” the man pressed. “Would you tend to his corpse too?”
“Huh?”
“There is a man needing to be buried tonight who requires absolution. He is not a Jew, but a Jew’s prayers may be close enough for what is needed.”
“Um. It’s not usually a request I get.” Jacob tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. There was some kind of entrapment lingering in the conversation, he just knew it. That or a giant box of crazy that had managed to dress itself stylishly. Gentiles asking Jews intrusive but urgent questions never turned out well for their target–a day-long case of irritation was the best outcome the target could hope for.
The man’s hands pressed together as he completed the full step forward, making Jacob back up into the doorframe. Desperation was in his tone and Jacob was forced back over the threshold just to stay out of his grip “All I need is someone to accompany me to the cemetery to consecrate the body and pray for its soul. Barely an hour of your time. I cannot pay you with anything but my gratitude, but you will have it eternally.”
“And you came to me?”
The man sighed. Even the top hat seemed to slouch slightly as his body slumped. “I have asked every holy man in the city, Catholic and Protestant alike, and they have refused to come to the cemetery,“ he bemoaned. “The last one told me to visit you. Likely a ploy to make me leave faster, but you are all I have left.”
“What did this man do, that so many people refused him? Who was he?”
The man at the door hesitated. The sharp eyes vanished as his eyelids slid down, and then appeared a few moments later.
“Must you ask?” he said quietly. “Is it not enough that it is a corpse which can do no man harm any longer, and you will lose nothing but a half-night of sleep?”
The inside of Jacob’s head was ringing with warning bells like the frantic clanging of gongs announcing a fire. He swallowed and tried to ignore them.
“You say he wasn’t Jewish?”
“He was not…much of anything. He felt God had no interest in him, and returned a lack of interest in kind. Perhaps if he had been more attentive he wouldn’t lie in a pauper’s grave…or perhaps he would have not changed a whit.” The man’s voice was bitter and the sharp eyes briefly looked away from Jacob, to Jacob’s deep relief.
“Who was this man, to you?” he asked.
“Close. I would prefer to say no more. Please, rabbi. It must be done, and it must be tonight.”
Seminary did not prepare me for this, Jacob thought, and then thought again. There is absolutely something in the Talmud about this and I’ve just forgotten it, because I’m an idiot and I’m half asleep and there is a goy on my doorstep asking me to go out to the cemetery with him at midnight to bury a man whose name he won’t tell me.
“Look, I’ll need someone to help dig the grave.”
“Of course.”
“And a coffin. A plain pine box. And I’ll need to get my supplies from the–”
“But you’ll do it?” said the man excitedly, standing up even taller. “And do it tonight, before the cock crows?”
Jacob held up his hands to keep the man from getting even further into his personal space. “Fine. Yes. Give me half an hour and a lazy rooster.”
The cloak almost seem to inflate as the man gasped for joy. He grabbed Jacob’s hands and shook both with enthusiasm, sending Jacob stumbling. “Thank God for you, my good rabbit! Whatever God there is, thank God for you!”
The man ran off into the shadowed streets and was out of sight almost immediately.
Jacob’s hands slowly fell back to his side as he mumbled, “Rabbi,” to the darkness.
My wife is going to kill me if whatever’s at the cemetery doesn’t.
