This is appallingly stupid for all sorts of reasons. But I’ll focus on the most important because it undermines this persons’s case. She is implicitly stating that “feminizing” surgery is about changing mostly superficial aesthetic characteristics — prettier face, thinner nose, whatever but not reproductive organs. In other words this shitty critique frames “femaleness” as the object of essentially the male gaze and not more fundamental biological and reproductive differences. It’s tantamount to saying unattractive women are less female. That’s gross, including on feminist terms.
This Uber driver, a Black woman Lamiyah Jabbar, age 30, picked up a White woman named Diane, who opened up to her about her financial struggles on the way to work at fast food chain Tim Hortons in Buffalo, New York.
Lamiyah dropped Diane at her job, and instead of picking up a new passenger, Lamiyah drove to a shopping mall to visit several stores and asked women who looked to be about Diane's size what clothes they liked to wear and bought those clothes for Diane along with a gift card.
I emphasized the race of the women in this video because that’s all I see on this platform now from both parties but only when the video makes either race look bad. We can also show the good in both sides.
@AmyMek Amy, please let X know about this outright theft without attribution of your intellectual property. The only way to get the jerks (looking at you, @Rightanglenews) to stop stealing copyrighted content in order to drive up their own traffic is to file a takedown notice and assert your ownership of what you've obviously put a lot of time and effort into creating. There's too many of these bad actors out there even if they appear to be on the right side of important issues. But are they really? Or are they just trolls who will stoop to anything as long as it makes them an easy buck. Oh, and for what it's worth I’ve followed you and look forward to seeing your work in your own posts down the road.
Well, in any event it releases something that's beyond my ability to comprehend. Whatever that thing is I know that my mood was boosted beyond high throughout the ride for the duration of several 2,000+ mile/3,200+ kilometer bikepacking trips, rain, wind, tornadoes, hurricanes, electrical storms, hills, gravel or dirt or muddy or puddle-covered or flooded or blocked by fallen tree or closed by construction project or blocked by closed bridge or tunnel or simply reverted by the passage of time to non-existence or that were planned but never built towpaths, bike trails, or roads, or interstate highways, or other freeways, or maps, diagrams and erroneous or incomplete directions that misdirect or mislead, and traffic, and angry or unruly drivers and passengers of same, and traffic noise…and don't get me started on broken or otherwise damaged parts, cables, components, and accessories, along with unanticipated repairs and maintenance, both minor and major, that happen along the way. Plus, well- there's neither room nor time to mention what seems like the million and 1 other things that can come up during the course of a long distance bike trip, and probably do.
But that high, oh baby! It had me riding 15,000 miles/about 24,000 kilometers in the three years that preceded my accident in 2019. And yeah, I was on my bike in the middle of central Montana when I had that accident. On a huge hill. On an unmaintained and potholed dirt road. Out of cell coverage. In the middle of nowhere. With only one other person- the guy who saved my life- knowing where I was. With a huge thunderstorm headed my way out of the north. And the trauma center where I would receive emergency surgery and care that night and starting the next eight months of hospitalization a 1,500 mile/2,400 medical emergency flight by helicopter away in Seattle. And yeah, I'm in a wheelchair today paralyzed from the shoulders down…and one final yeah…
And yeah, actually hell yeah (I know that's technically two yeahs but, whatever),…
Hell yeah, if I could be somehow unparalyzed tomorrow I would go get my bike and helmet and gear and other stuff, go back to the top of that hill, load up my bags and panniers, take a deep breath…and ride (a little more carefully this time) to the bottom of that hill. I'd stop there briefly, hurl one last indignant curse over my shoulder and ride the one last mile of the day to the campground I had planned back in 2019.
That's how high that high is.
Well, in any event it releases something that's beyond my ability to comprehend. Whatever that thing is I know that my mood was boosted beyond high throughout the ride for the duration of several 2,000+ mile/3,200+ kilometer bikepacking trips, rain, wind, tornadoes, hurricanes, electrical storms, hills, gravel or dirt or muddy or puddle-covered or flooded or blocked by fallen tree or closed by construction project or blocked by closed bridge or tunnel or simply reverted by the passage of time to non-existence or that were planned but never built towpaths, bike trails, or roads, or interstate highways, or other freeways, or maps, diagrams and erroneous or incomplete directions that misdirect or mislead, and traffic, and angry or unruly drivers and passengers of same, and traffic noise…and don't get me started on broken or otherwise damaged parts, cables, components, and accessories, along with unanticipated repairs and maintenance, both minor and major, that happen along the way. Plus, well- there's neither room nor time to mention what seems like the million and 1 other things that can come up during the course of a long distance bike trip, and probably do.
But that high, oh baby! It had me riding 15,000 miles/about 24,000 kilometers in the three years that preceded my accident in 2019. And yeah, I was on my bike in the middle of central Montana when I had that accident. On a huge hill. On an unmaintained and potholed dirt road. Out of cell coverage. In the middle of nowhere. With only one other person- the guy who saved my life- knowing where I was. With a huge thunderstorm headed my way out of the north. And the trauma center where I would receive emergency surgery and care that night and starting the next eight months of hospitalization a 1,500 mile/2,400 medical emergency flight by helicopter away in Seattle. And yeah, I'm in a wheelchair today paralyzed from the shoulders down…and one final yeah…
And yeah, actually hell yeah (I know that's technically two yeahs but, whatever),…
Hell yeah, if I could be somehow unparalyzed tomorrow I would go get my bike and helmet and gear and other stuff, go back to the top of that hill, load up my bags and panniers, take a deep breath…and ride (a little more carefully this time) to the bottom of that hill. I'd stop there briefly, hurl one last indignant curse over my shoulder and ride the one last mile of the day to the campground I had planned back in 2019.
That's how high that high is.
BIKIE 25252
"𝑂𝑛 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔-𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑜𝑠 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑐𝑦𝑐𝑙𝑒, ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒: 𝐵𝐼𝐾𝐼𝐸𝑆. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑘𝑒."
My Surly Disc Trucker and me stopping on our way down the Mississippi River for a quick Bikie at a sign advertising local meeting hall treats for us far-from-home folks of Scandinavian descent. Clearwater, Minnesota. September 2017.
Having just made the switch at the start of summer in Alaska from the "Food is the Enemy" mode I'd been in the first half of the year to the "Food is Fuel" setting I would be in during that summer's long distance rides I never set off on a ride looking for any particular local delicacy. Rather…
…pretty much without fail I stuck with three specific places to eat along my route/s: 1) a local diner as close to the place I had spent the night before as possible that offered three fried eggs over easy and grits (although I was known to vary this routine on rare occasion but only if the server would swear up and down at the cinnamon roll on the menu was made inhouse or nearby and was the best in the state- I batted four for six and the two misses came really, really close); 2) Golden Corral and its all you can eat (AYCE) clones, and; 3) McDonald's. Yeah, Mickey D's. They’re everywhere, to begin with. Then there were the "Buy one sandwich, get one next visit of equal or lesser value free" (my go-to was a double quarter pounder with cheese) and dollar refillable gigunda cup soda promotions offered in 2017, '18 and '19. I could get a passable breakfast there in a pinch. And did I mention that they're everywhere?
FUN FACT: I might just be the only guy out there who has
ever mapped in Ride with GPS a wandering 5,000 mile/8,000 kilometer transcontinental route between Seaside, Oregon and Seaside, New York, a suburb of the City near Coney Island, with every Golden Corral and other AYCE up to 10 miles/15 kilometers on either side marked as a RwGPS point of interest. I started doing the McDonald's locations, but there's just too damn many of them.
QUESTION OF THE DAY (QOTD): Do you take into account when planning your long distance bicycle trips the availability of particular places to eat or some regional delicacy or dish or are you willing to trust to chance once you out on the road? I’d be interested in hearing from you on the whole food thing.
@𝑆𝑢𝑟𝑙𝑦_𝐵𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑠 @𝑏𝑖𝑐𝑦𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 @𝑐𝑦𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑠 @𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑔𝑝𝑠
#𝐵𝐼𝐾𝐼𝐸𝑆 #𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑏𝑖𝑐𝑦𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠 #𝑏𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠
Hey CNN (and anyone else seeing this through race-tinted glasses)… you should ask yourself for what purpose a visual description of this guy is needed? I mean, it's not like you’re contributing to an all points bulletin or anything. You really really need to question yourself if you post about his supposed race after the guy is confirmed dead. Can't we move on past this? -askin’ for a friend…
I too hate to be cynical, but I hope to wake up tomorrow and find Zohran Mamdami’s poll numbers on life support. IMO (and without any reflection) they belong there (as opposed to any victim the shooter may have put there today prior to taking his own life).
Hate to be cynical, but if the Manhattan shooter claims he did it for Gaza, there will not be a single moment of reflection from the media about just how many people have been injured or killed in the name of the ‘Free Palestine’ movement, and they’ll keep pushing it even harder.