Please don't leave this post without giving these innocent souls a chance.
Right now, while you are reading these words, hungry cats are waiting for food that may never come. They don't understand war. They don't understand borders. They only understand the pain of an empty stomach and the desperate hope that someone, somewhere, will care.
They are not the only ones struggling to survive. Our families are fighting the same battle, trying to stay alive while caring for these innocent souls with whatever little we have left.
Please don't leave without helping if you can. Your kindness today could mean a meal for a hungry family, food for these cats, and hope for another day. If you can't donate, please share this post with others.
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Dr. Marwan Sultan is dead.
A man. Not a soldier, not a politician, not a merchant of ambition. A healer. A quiet servant of life. He is gone. Not felled in the blindness of fate, but targeted. Not swallowed by time, but torn from it by men who speak of order with blood on their hands.
He was the Director of the Indonesian Hospital in Gaza, and yet he did not rule from above. He walked not in the footsteps of bureaucrats, but in the footsteps of the wounded. His title meant nothing to him, and everything to those he served. He wore it not as a badge of honor, but as a burden, one he carried with sacred defiance.
I knew him not in years, but in essence. His kind does not require time to be known, for they stand apart immediately, terribly, like those who carry within them a fire too pure for this earth.
He did not believe in power, only in presence. He walked among the wounded as if their pain were his own, which it was. His hands, stained with the blood of strangers, did not tremble. He stood not above us, but beside us, shoulder to shoulder, not as a manager, but as a brother in despair.
And when the sirens wailed, when the children were brought in with limbs dangling like forgotten promises, he did not flee. He only looked to the heavens and whispered, “Prepare yourselves.” Not in fear. In readiness. Because he knew this world is no place for the gentle.
He fought not the war outside, but the greater war: the war against apathy, against the soul’s slow death under bureaucracy and cowardice. He pleaded with ministers who had long sold their conscience, begged for crumbs to feed the ones who had given everything and received nothing.
And still, he smiled.
Not out of foolish hope, but out of something holier: defiance.
Do you know what it is to be cheerful in hell? That was his miracle. That was his rebellion.
But now, he is gone.
Not laid to rest by time, but shattered by the very forces he sought to resist, by a world that devours its saints and erects monuments to its butchers.
They will call it collateral. They will say he was “in the way.”
But I say this: He died as Christ died. Not with weapons in his hands, but with love in his bones.
Every lash of cruelty, every bomb that falls upon the just, cries out for judgment. And one day, if not in this world, then in the next, there will be reckoning.
We write his name not in marble, but in memory.
We carry him not in our prayers alone, but in our trembling hands, which must now continue his work.
Dr. Marwan Sultan did not die.
He was martyred.
And the earth is poorer for his absence.
But if there is any justice, any at all, he is now somewhere beyond pain, and looking down upon us not with sorrow, but with pity.
Because he was better than us all.
And this world, this murderous, miraculous world, never deserved him.
#GazaGenocide
The wonderful Barbara Hale was BOTD Illinois in 1922, so I see no reason not to talk about her all day!
Known and loved as Della Street from the world of Perry Mason, she also made some very memorable films. Not only was she excellent in everything she ever did, she once stole a film right out from under James Cagney (A Lion is in the Streets)… seriously, y’all, she stole the whole enchilada.
I hope to see a LOT of photos, gifs, and memories of #BarbaraHale today! Please share yours. ✨
AO3 was FOUNDED to prevent unnecessary censorship of works others may find distasteful. It was founded because other sites censored works like this and ended up silencing survivors trying to talk about their experiences. Fandom really has forgotten its roots.
I’m perpetually astounded at people, let alone artists, who think the real world, the one we walk around in, is grayed-out and fogged-over and that dazzling color = fantasy.
October 24th 1975, women in Iceland refused to participate in society. They did not go to work, take care of the children, they did not feed the children, they did not take the children to daycare, they refused to cook for anybody.
Men did not have a single clue about how to
Jeri Taylor was responsible, in large part, for changing my life. She was elegant, erudite, and fiercely opinionated. She wanted Kathryn Janeway to be a significant part of her legacy and I think there is no doubt that in that endeavor she succeeded.
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As we all know the MSM are gonna milk tomorrow for all its propaganda value.
So it seems a smart idea to get this meticulous breakdown of what really happened on 10/7/23 doing the rounds again.
Don’t listen to the official narrative it’s LIES!!
Never forget: Zionism is a fascist white supremacist settler colonial ideology and none of us are safe until it is dismantled. We must all fight against this ongoing Israeli genocide of Palestine and ethnic cleansing of Lebanon in every way we can 🍉🌲🍉🌲🍉
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.