Nothing Prompted This

Bombay Snake Charmers :: Vintage Super8 Film

Breed dogs for intelligence

my mom has a friend who has a failed program-service dog and he’s literally my favorite creature

He’s a really smart lab, he learned all the commands, but he just has an affinity for doing them whenever he wants

So this lady’s dog literally turns on-off lights, opens doors, opens the fridge, etc… at his own wishes.

Her house looks like its baby-proofed, with kid safe locks on everything and stuff, but really she just has a dog that’s learned all the mobility service dog commands but has a mind of his own.

This is getting on my fucking nerves, so I’m just going to say it here:

Adults who need high levels of support in daily living are not children. 

“Mental age” is a concept rooted in eugenics, and it doesn’t actually exist.

No one should be robbed of agency or dignity because of their need for support. Oh, also, while we’re at it (since disability rights activism that doesn’t tackle age-related oppression is bullshit), kids deserve to be treated with respect too. Shouldn’t be a controversial statement, but it is.

Most people neglect to mention this, but if “being treated like a child” equates to “being robbed of agency and dignity,” there’s something fundamentally wrong with the way we treat children. 

For those of you who don’t know, I work at an anarchist co-op coffee shop.

Apparently, all the Chicano/Cholo boys in my neighborhood have caught on the the fact that I sneak food and stuff to all the little punk kids and homeless kids at the coffee shop.

There are three in particular who call me Mom. Not Mami, not Ma, Mom. The rest refer to me as “Miss”.

They’ve decided to always have one of the three of them there with me on my night shifts. (Especially after they witnessed the last bad shift where I had to kick a bunch of tweakers out. Said tweakers lit my fucking bulletin board on fire.)

Tonight, one of the boys actually charged up a crackhead who wouldn’t get out when I told him to leave.

About an hour later, I was emptying bus tubs when that same lovely boy walked in and wetted a wash rag. I asked what he was doing and he told me not to worry. So, I went about my business, doing dishes, bussing the main dining tables, etc.

I’d left a broom in the smoking room and a fresh trash bag in the bathroom for once I was done with the dishes.

When I walked out, everything was spotless and the trash had been replaced. He’d wiped all my tables, swept, mopped, and emptied all the ash trays.

He’d also picked the lock on the bathroom so his friend could take out the trash for me. (Which I’m not sure whether I should scold him for. Haha)

They snuck around and did my closing shift duties to thank me for keeping them warm and fed.

I’m fucking crying.

Taraf de Haïdouks — Ostinato & Romanian Dance

Béla Bartók reinterpreted by Romani traditional musicians.

hmmm

it's the evening's entertainment

hmmm