This, ladies and gentlemen, is what you get when you stand up to a man who beats his young girlfriend in public. Not the black eye, not the broken nose, but the sense of being a fucking great human being.
Earlier today while I was waiting for the bus I witnessed a man walk up to his girlfriend, who couldn’t have been older than 18, kick her handbag, spit on her and scream in her face that she was a cunt. He walked back into the bus shelter after telling her she was worthless and pathetic and kicking her in the gut then as she tried to follow he turned around to grab her. I got in between them and told him that he should never EVER spit on a woman, hit her or talk to her in that way. He laughed in my face and said he would “fuck me up”. I looked him square in the eye and told him that I was not afraid of him. He proceeded to scream obscenities at her as I took her away from him, then he shouted to me that he could walk round the corner to get people to kill me. Feeling defiant, I said “go on, I dare you, there’re plenty of people around to witness it.” The prick then walked right up to me and head butted me in the nose. I am now sporting a swollen face and the beginnings of a black eye but the police took swabs from my nose to get his DNA and they know exactly who he is. Cunt’s going down for assault. Motherfuckers don’t treat women like that and get away with it. I feel heroic.
Bad fucking ass. You should feel heroic; that’s how you’re supposed to feel after doing heroic things.
This woman rocks! Women need to stick up for each other. Abusive men take heed, eventually you have to sleep.
Corn gone viral? You’re looking at an ear of a corn variety called “Glass Gem”, grown by Greg Schoen of Seeds Trust. This is real corn! How does it grow this way?
First you have to understand a few things about corn. Each corn kernel is actually a sort of unique plant. A corn plant’s male parts (the “tassels”) sit at the top of the stalk, and drop pollen downward. Unfertilized ears (the female parts) catch the pollen with the sticky ends of their corn silks. Each corn silk (I hate when that gets in my teeth) grabs a pollen grain, shuttles it allllllll the way down inside the ear, eventually creating one kernel for each pollen-silk-ovum combination. It’s one of the more interesting and inefficient breeding schemes I know of.
If you’ve taken genetics, you know that the parents’ genes will combine by chance, leading to certain ratios of inheritance in the offspring. This is the basis of Mendelian genetics (great Khan Academy video here).
With corn, we’ve simply carefully bred all the interestingness out of them. Native Americans were used to multi-colored corn, because corn plants held many varieties of color genes that could combine at random. Now all we are left with are one-color clones.
This “Glass Gem” corn is the other extreme of the spectrum, a combination of corn color hybrid genes and random pollination. It’s almost too pretty to eat!
Today’s faculty need to understand young people, how they learn, what they value. Only then can we convince them they should get up out of their seats and express themselves, argue their points and refine their intellects and consciences. It’s called academic rigor, and it’s more difficult that imparting information so they can pass a test.
A long, long time ago, I wrote an essay on toddlers. I first had the idea for it when my now four year old was about 18 months. Well, my third kiddo is about one and a half now. And, it feels like deja vu. If you missed it the first time or just really have nothing better to do, here’s my old essay for Babble:
“One morning, my then one-and-a-half-year-old son unlocked the child-safety latch of our bottom bathroom drawer. Upon finding my makeup, he began breathing heavily with excitement and staggering around. What a haul! What loot! Imagine his disappointment when, just as he was about to pry the shiny cap off a red lipstick, I picked him up and carried him out of the bathroom. I didn’t congratulate him on his discovery. I didn’t point him in the direction of the hallway’s white walls and say, “My home is your canvas. Go forth and create.” Instead, I ruined everything.
Before I had children, when I’d go to the grocery store and see a little kid in the cereal aisle screaming and crying, I’d shake my head. Why was it that every time I saw a toddler, he or she was throwing some kind of fit? What could be so difficult about spending the day playing, napping, and eating? Now, after living among their kind, I should apologize. Not to you, but to them. Here’s the sad truth: for toddlers, the world is a rough place full of squelched mysteries, restrained freedoms, and nonsensical commands. I think I’d rather be fourteen again than be a toddler.”