iitto-works:

Stapelianthus pilosus

iitto-works:

Stapelianthus pilosus

(via plant-a-day)

Unlikely simultaneous historical events

simhasanam:

quantumblog:

jkottke:

A poster on Reddit asks: What are two events that took place in the same time in history but don’t seem like they would have?

Spain was still a fascist dictatorship when Microsoft was founded.

There were no classes in calculus in…

(via theladyofpie)

foosweechin:

Been having ridiculous headaches that induces pain in the gums and stomach. I’m tempting to try my cats’ cat mint lol. Or open up my skull and stuff ice cubes inside while having a cup of hot tea. #Catnip #キャトミント#cute

foosweechin:

Been having ridiculous headaches that induces pain in the gums and stomach. I’m tempting to try my cats’ cat mint lol. Or open up my skull and stuff ice cubes inside while having a cup of hot tea. #Catnip #キャトミント#cute

tsuthetiger:

the fuck outta here

tsuthetiger:

the fuck outta here

(Source: clupster, via theladyofpie)

Donut Doubles
-Brandon Voges

(Source: behance.net, via kawaii-mikancafe)

fingerpuppet:

are these colors even cute enough?? i dunno man.

fingerpuppet:

are these colors even cute enough?? i dunno man.

(via kawaii-mikancafe)

m-i-s-o:

Been back in Tokyo for a little while now, really happy. Muggy summer, watching a Shibuya train platform from my bed, windows open. x 

(via pilotgirls)

(Source: natazilla, via moonswhisper)

transperceneige:

ALZEER, arabian stallion. Photography from HORSES OF QATAR by Vanessa Von Zitzewitz.

(via cryptovolans)

(Source: crimsonskyes, via flavorcats)

geekandsundry:

bronyman999:

zombiesatemygames:

Let’s go on an adventure.

this is beautiful

 Thanks for sharing hellosachie (our cosplay vlogger!)

(Source: zombiesatemygames, via wired-infornography)

theeyesinthenight:

the-sonic-screw:

platinumpixels:

volpesvolpes:

unseilie:

sarahvonkrolock:

gaysexagainstawall:

them-days-was-olden-as-fuck:

The spread of the black death.

Poland

Poland, tell us your secret.

Poland is the old new Madagascar. 

If I remember correctly, Poland’s secret is that the jews where being blamed all over europe (as usual) as scapegoats for the black plague. Poland was the only place that accepted Jewish refugees, so pretty much all of them moved there. 
Now, one of the major causes of getting the plague was poor hygiene. This proved very effective for the plague because everyone threw their poop into the streets because there were no sewers, and literally no one bathed because it was against their religion. Unless they were jewish, who actually bathed relatively often. When all the jews moved to Poland, they brought bathing with them, and so the plague had little effect there.
Milan survived by quarantining its city and burning down the house of anyone showing early symptoms, with the entire family inside it. 

I reblogged this tons of times, but the Milan info is new.
Damn Italy, you scary.

Poland: “Hey, feeling a bit down? Have a quick wash! There, you see? All better”
Milan: “Aw, feeling a bit sick are we? BURN MOTHERFUCKER, BURN!!!!!”

Also, this might have something to do with it: from what I understand, O blood type is uncommonly… common in Poland. Something to do with large families in small villages and a LOT of intermarriage. The black plague was caused by a bacterium that produced, in its waste in the human body, wastes that very closely mimic the “B” marker sugars on red blood cells that keep the body from attacking its own immune system. Anyone who has a B blood type had an immune system that was naturally desensitized to the presence of the bacterium, and therefore was more prone to developing the disease. Anyone who had an O type was doubly lucky because the O blood type means the total absence of ANY markers, A or B, meaning that their bodys’ immune system would react quickly and violently against the invaders, while someone with an A may show symptoms and recover more slowly, while someone with B would have just died. Because O is a recessive blood type, it shows in higher numbers when more people who carry the recessive genes marry other people who also carry the recessive gene. Poland, which has a nearly 700 year history of being conquered by or partnering with every other nation in the surrounding area, was primarily an agricultural country, focused around smaller, farming communities where people were legally tied to, and required to work, “their” land, and so historically never “spread” their genes across a large area. The economy was, and had been, unstable for a very long period of time leading up to the plague, the government had been ineffective and had very little reach in comparison to the armies of the other countries around for a very very long time, and so its people largely remained in small communities where multiple generations of cross-familial inbreeding could have allowed for this more recessive gene to show up more frequently. Thus, there could be a higher percentage of O blood types in any region of the country, guaranteeing less spread of the illness and moving slower when it did manage to travel. Combine this with the fact that there were very few large, urban centers where the disease would thrive, and with the above facts, and you’ve got a lovely recipe for avoiding the plague.
Interestingly enough, as a result from the plague, the entirety of Europe now has a higher percentage of people with O blood type than any other region of the world. 

theeyesinthenight:

the-sonic-screw:

platinumpixels:

volpesvolpes:

unseilie:

sarahvonkrolock:

gaysexagainstawall:

them-days-was-olden-as-fuck:

The spread of the black death.

Poland

Poland, tell us your secret.

Poland is the old new Madagascar. 

If I remember correctly, Poland’s secret is that the jews where being blamed all over europe (as usual) as scapegoats for the black plague. Poland was the only place that accepted Jewish refugees, so pretty much all of them moved there. 

Now, one of the major causes of getting the plague was poor hygiene. This proved very effective for the plague because everyone threw their poop into the streets because there were no sewers, and literally no one bathed because it was against their religion. Unless they were jewish, who actually bathed relatively often. When all the jews moved to Poland, they brought bathing with them, and so the plague had little effect there.

Milan survived by quarantining its city and burning down the house of anyone showing early symptoms, with the entire family inside it. 

I reblogged this tons of times, but the Milan info is new.

Damn Italy, you scary.

Poland: “Hey, feeling a bit down? Have a quick wash! There, you see? All better”

Milan:Aw, feeling a bit sick are we? BURN MOTHERFUCKER, BURN!!!!!”

Also, this might have something to do with it: from what I understand, O blood type is uncommonly… common in Poland. Something to do with large families in small villages and a LOT of intermarriage. The black plague was caused by a bacterium that produced, in its waste in the human body, wastes that very closely mimic the “B” marker sugars on red blood cells that keep the body from attacking its own immune system. Anyone who has a B blood type had an immune system that was naturally desensitized to the presence of the bacterium, and therefore was more prone to developing the disease. Anyone who had an O type was doubly lucky because the O blood type means the total absence of ANY markers, A or B, meaning that their bodys’ immune system would react quickly and violently against the invaders, while someone with an A may show symptoms and recover more slowly, while someone with B would have just died. Because O is a recessive blood type, it shows in higher numbers when more people who carry the recessive genes marry other people who also carry the recessive gene. Poland, which has a nearly 700 year history of being conquered by or partnering with every other nation in the surrounding area, was primarily an agricultural country, focused around smaller, farming communities where people were legally tied to, and required to work, “their” land, and so historically never “spread” their genes across a large area. The economy was, and had been, unstable for a very long period of time leading up to the plague, the government had been ineffective and had very little reach in comparison to the armies of the other countries around for a very very long time, and so its people largely remained in small communities where multiple generations of cross-familial inbreeding could have allowed for this more recessive gene to show up more frequently. Thus, there could be a higher percentage of O blood types in any region of the country, guaranteeing less spread of the illness and moving slower when it did manage to travel. Combine this with the fact that there were very few large, urban centers where the disease would thrive, and with the above facts, and you’ve got a lovely recipe for avoiding the plague.

Interestingly enough, as a result from the plague, the entirety of Europe now has a higher percentage of people with O blood type than any other region of the world. 

(Source: )

letter1418:

Last week, I was sitting with my team of editorial moderators when we realized we would soon pass 10,000 letters. I thought it would be interesting to find a statistic about a battle from WWI to link to this milestone. 10,000 seemed like such a massive number, and then I found this:
Battle of the Somme is famous chiefly on account of the loss of 58,000 British troops (one third of them killed) on the first day of the battle, 1 July 1916. 
I told this to my team. I wish I could put into words the silence that followed. But I can’t. I can only ask you: Sit with me a moment and be still. Sit with me for a moment and try to feel this.
It took a team of eight workers seventeen days to read 10,000 letters.
Multiply every letter we received by 5.8.
Every “Dear Daddy” letter in kids’ handwriting, sloppy and sloping off the page, or structured and school-tight.
Every “My Darling” letter from a beloved, with longing like perfume washed over the pages.
Every “My Son” and “My Brother” letter, filled with news of the family and with fear.
Every time someone wrote the words, "I don’t understand why you had to go."
Every time someone wrote, “I pray you will return.” 
Every time someone wrote (or wished), “Don’t die.” 
Multiply it.
Sit still with me a moment.
Six times that number of sons—gone.
Six times that number of friends—gone.
Six times that number, and every one connected. Every one with a mother, a father, perhaps sisters or wives or children of their own. Gone, in the space of one battle.
Our words stretch to the unknown, the lost—not the dead only, but the missing—our words stretch but they are weak. We are 10,000 letters that reach across time to heal or challenge wounds, but we do not even cover one day in battle.
My coworkers and I stopped and stared at each other over our laptops, our fingers still hovering above keys, the queue still filling up with more to be read.
We only get glimpses into the grief. We can only comprehend for fleeting moments, and it is gone again. It is too heavy. It is too hard to read another Dear Daddy, knowing that what this child imagines another child lived through.
I am a writer, and I believe that words have power. Though they be many, though they be few, these words are doing something. I don’t know what yet, but I feel them. I feel them changing me.
Will you let them change you?
- AlyssaEditorial Moderator | Letter to an Unknown Soldier Team

letter1418:

Last week, I was sitting with my team of editorial moderators when we realized we would soon pass 10,000 letters. I thought it would be interesting to find a statistic about a battle from WWI to link to this milestone. 10,000 seemed like such a massive number, and then I found this:

Battle of the Somme is famous chiefly on account of the loss of 58,000 British troops (one third of them killed) on the first day of the battle, 1 July 1916.

I told this to my team. I wish I could put into words the silence that followed. But I can’t. I can only ask you: Sit with me a moment and be still. Sit with me for a moment and try to feel this.

It took a team of eight workers seventeen days to read 10,000 letters.

Multiply every letter we received by 5.8.

Every “Dear Daddy” letter in kids’ handwriting, sloppy and sloping off the page, or structured and school-tight.

Every “My Darling” letter from a beloved, with longing like perfume washed over the pages.

Every “My Son” and “My Brother” letter, filled with news of the family and with fear.

Every time someone wrote the words, "I don’t understand why you had to go."

Every time someone wrote, “I pray you will return.”

Every time someone wrote (or wished), “Don’t die.”

Multiply it.

Sit still with me a moment.

Six times that number of sons—gone.

Six times that number of friends—gone.

Six times that number, and every one connected. Every one with a mother, a father, perhaps sisters or wives or children of their own. Gone, in the space of one battle.

Our words stretch to the unknown, the lost—not the dead only, but the missing—our words stretch but they are weak. We are 10,000 letters that reach across time to heal or challenge wounds, but we do not even cover one day in battle.

My coworkers and I stopped and stared at each other over our laptops, our fingers still hovering above keys, the queue still filling up with more to be read.

We only get glimpses into the grief. We can only comprehend for fleeting moments, and it is gone again. It is too heavy. It is too hard to read another Dear Daddy, knowing that what this child imagines another child lived through.

I am a writer, and I believe that words have power. Though they be many, though they be few, these words are doing something. I don’t know what yet, but I feel them. I feel them changing me.

Will you let them change you?

- Alyssa
Editorial Moderator | Letter to an Unknown Soldier Team

(via asyayay)