Brassieres are not like other clothing. They are crazy expensive, especially sports bras, which generally run over $50 for actual support. They chafe, the underwire leaves red marks, and the straps create deep indentations in your shoulders for the rest of your life. When you get an MRI, as I have done several times in the past year, you have to remove your bra due to the metal in the hooks and wire. And when they have finally run their course, you can’t hand them down or donate them to Goodwill because gross. But today I learned you can do this:
Who knew? For those of you who take the time to remove hooks and mail them with actual US postal stamps, your benevolence will be appreciated. Granted, the recipient himself will never know whom to thank, but you can identify as a testudophile from now on.
That’s a song I learned in the 70s as a child, watching Sesame Street. All the counting songs are forever imbedded in my brain, often hitting the needle at 3am as I awaken, and playing in my head as I do what middle-aged folks do at least twice each early morning.
Everybody likes ladybugs, no? They don’t sting. Their shape and color are pleasing, and they can eat thousands of insects in their lifetimes, so more power to them. Plus, they are polka dotted like a jaunty spring umbrella! This one seemed to enjoy our oak tree just fine. Sadly, the ice storm in February killed many of our trees, and this one was felled by a chainsaw last week, ne’er more to be walked upon by ladybug legs.
Papa, can you see me? Papa, why are you on a stretcher?
It appears that the actual tiger, the largest cat species on earth, has noticed the prostrate Tigger being carried away, presumably for treatment. I wouldn’t worry about Old Tigger. After all, their tops are made out of rubber, their bottoms are made out of springs!
Blah. Everything tastes like cardboard, which is to say, almost nothing. The unfortunate thing is that sometimes, you’ll get an inkling of salt or of sour, but without context of other flavors, it’s just a nasty taste on your tongue. So you look like mopey Barbara here, a four-year-old hybrid gibbon, back in September of 1948, when this National Geographic image came out.
You might hate on zoos, but Barbara’s mother decided she wasn’t too keen on her offspring and refused to feed her. So without the keeper to spoon feed her, she would have certainly perished. Like a human, she sucked her thumb and played with a rattle. And I imagine she took that bottle there as well.
Seems a bit steep for a cagwang (flying lemur), but let’s recognize that these prices are in Filipino money. A four foot sawa (python) could run you $1.50 in US money, up to $37.50 for a 28 foot specimen. Here we see two Filipino men holding a reticulated python and a crested serpent eagle.
“No monkeying with this price?” Watch out there, Peggy Paige! While you were busy making clothing for folks who were still dealing with the fallout of WWII, using your taxes to support countries ravaged by war and fascism, trying to bring a bit of merriment to the widows and families of the millions of dead military heroes with a colorful printed frock, you forgot to prioritize the most important thing: never ever use a animal-related verb because it makes PETA petulant. Oh, is THAT where they got their name from? I won’t share the list that PETA posted this week, as it’s too ridonkulous to perpetuate. Suffice to say that if you ever told anyone they were hogging the mashed potatoes, you unjustly used an offensive slur, and there’s a good chance you’re a white supremacist. PETA thinks animals have been secretly becoming fluent in human language, solely to learn to interpret metaphors as hate speech and consequently be offended. Sorry, animals don’t have time for that, especially fat, lazy pigs. Yeah, I said it. I’d call PETA batship crazy but that might force them into the fetal position. Guess I’ll just say they’re full of guano.
And for anyone who’d like to hear a more nuanced perspective, feel free to check out JP.