“Let us talk about unpleasant things." From Harpers, 1932.
Newsworthy: a collection of weird and bad headlines.
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Thought of the day:
I find myself wondering why hate and cancel culture is even still a thing. Why must we as humans have such strong opinions about everything that doesn’t meet our “criteria” and “standards”. Why can we as people not let others live their life without us needing to put our own insecurities and judgements onto them. I understand that holding people accountable for wrong doings is something that is necessary and important but as a society we are literally canceling one another because of cosmetic things such as appearance, and aesthetic, makeup use, etc. We judge others on likes, dislikes, personal preference, sexual preference, music taste, and most definitely on political background. Everyone has the freedom to express theirselves and who they are, yet we as a society like judge one another and set “boundaries” on what can be based solemnly off our own insecurities.
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Fellas, I don’t know but Kaitlyn and Drew could be siblings. I know Drew might be coloring his hairs and beard but this whole fact confuses me a lot. 🙄
The skin tone, the jaw bones, the eyes...it is pretty similar...it’s just pretty to much. 😳
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@donesurvivin ‘ 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚜 , 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 , 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 . ’
From up the fire watch tower, the canopy of trees looked like a dark green ocean that could have easily expanded into infinity if not for the solid mass of Mount Rainier, standing above it all like an ancient titan, a geographical threat. An old god, sleeping, for now. He couldn’t help but think about Sarah Miller, scared and alone in that darkness, so thoroughly engulfed by the forest that even from four helicopters no one had been able to see her, not until it was done with her. And now they were all scratching their heads thinking how, how was it possible? They had combed every inch of that forest, how had they missed her? Sharing theories back and forth when in the end the outcome remained the same, the ending of the story didn’t change regardless of how many explanations they could find for it. A little girl was gone. And the wreckage that hollow truth left behind remained just as crude and real, regardless of the answers. or lack thereof. Jesus. It was always the kids that messed you up.
He reached for the pot of coffee and poured it into a chipped cup with a “Jurassic Park Ranger” logo in it that was honestly kind of embarrassing, then, after hesitating for a second, topped it off with whiskey. Sadly enough that was as much comfort as he could offer the poor wretch of a man. There were no words that could be said and if they were, well, he had never been good at those either. He couldn’t just look him in the eye and speak about how she was in a better place or whatever it was meant to be said. He knew well what it was to be lost in those woods, to have it steal something precious and irreplaceable, the sheer terror of it however you looked at it, and look at it was all you could do. Sarah Miller had been terrified, alone, and she had probably died that way, he couldn't bypass that knowledge, and her father couldn’t be fooled into denying it.
“I don’t think you’ll find answers there,” he finally spoke, his voice barely rising over the deafening sounds of the forest, “Death’s not the scary part… it’s us, left out here, wondering.” he turned, the cup held in both his hands before he surrendered it in an awkward motion. He really wasn’t the right person to be there, not even remotely. "Sorry I couldn’t find your little girl sooner.”
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