REBLOG IF YOU WOULD MEET THEM AT THE AIRPORT GATE
AND RUN AT EACH OTHER IN SLOW MOTION
ARMS WIDE OPEN
WHILE “AT LAST” PLAYS OVER THE PA SYSTEM
yes yes yes
LET ME LOVE YOU ALL! <3
OMG, that would be amazing. Me and fluttersassy geeking out about Avatar: The Last Airbender and Danny Phantom and CP stuff and oh god whyyy do we not all live in the same place???
- Once you have their money … never give it back.
- Never pay more for an acquisition than you have to.
- Never allow family to stand in the way of opportunity.
- A man is only worth the sum of his possessions. (From Enterprise, episode “Acquisition”; sloppy script-writing, as rule 6 (see above) was already given in DS9)
- Keep your ears open.
- Small print leads to large risk.
- Opportunity plus instinct equals profit.
- Greed is eternal.
- Anything worth doing is worth doing for money.
- A deal is a deal … until a better one comes along.
- A contract is a contract is a contract (but only between Ferengi).
- A Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.
- Satisfaction is not guaranteed.
- Never place friendship above profit.
- A wise man can hear profit in the wind.
- Nothing is more important than your health—except for your money.
- There’s nothing more dangerous than an honest businessman.
- Never make fun of a Ferengi’s mother … insult something he cares about instead.
- It never hurts to suck up to the boss.
- Peace is good for business.
- War is good for business.
- She can touch your lobes but never your latinum.
- Profit is its own reward.
- Never confuse wisdom with luck.
- Expand, or die.
- Don’t trust a man wearing a better suit than your own.
- The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife.
- Never ask when you can take.
- Good customers are as rare as latinum — treasure them.
- There is no substitute for success.
- Free advice is seldom cheap.
- Keep your lies consistent.
- The riskier the road, the greater the profit.
- Win or lose, there’s always Hyperian beetle snuff.
- Home is where the heart is … but the stars are made of latinum.
- Every once in a while, declare peace. It confuses the hell out of your enemies.
- Beware of the Vulcan greed for knowledge.
- The flimsier the product, the higher the price.
- Never let the competition know what you’re thinking.
- Ask not what your profits can do for you, but what you can do for your profits.
- Females and finances don’t mix.
- Enough … is never enough.
- Trust is the biggest liability of all.
- Nature decays, but latinum lasts forever.
- Sleep can interfere with profit. (DS9 season 2, episode 7 - “Rules of Acquisition”)
- Faith moves mountains … of inventory.
- There is no honour in poverty.
- Dignity and an empty sack is worth the sack.
- Treat people in your debt like family … exploit them.
- Never have sex with the boss’s sister.
- Always have sex with the boss.
- You can’t free a fish from water.
- Everything is for sale, even friendship.
- Even a blind man can recognize the glow of latinum.
- Wives serve, brothers inherit.
- Only fools pay retail.
- There’s nothing wrong with charity … as long as it winds up in your pocket.
- Even in the worst of times someone turns a profit.
- Know your enemies … but do business with them always.
- Not even dishonesty can tarnish the shine of profit.
- Let others keep their reputation. You keep their money.
- Never cheat a Klingon … unless you’re sure you can get away with it.
- It’s always good business to know about new customers before they walk in the door.
- The justification for profit is profit.
- New customers are like razortoothed grubworms. They can be succulent, but sometimes they can bite back.
- Employees are rungs on the ladder of success. Don’t hesitate to step on them.
- Never begin a negotiation on an empty stomach.
- Always know what you’re buying.
- Beware the man who doesn’t make time for oo-mox.
- Latinum lasts longer than lust.
- You can’t buy fate.
- Never be afraid to mislabel a product.
- More is good … all is better.
- A wife is a luxury … a smart accountant is a necessity.
- A wealthy man can afford anything except a conscience.
- Never allow doubt to tarnish your love of latinum.
- When in doubt, lie.
- Deep down everyone’s a Ferengi.
- No good deed ever goes unpunished.
- [Quark’s rule] When Morn leaves, it’s all over.
I’m gonna add this to my forever reblog. It’s lengthy but I think you should always be aware of the Rules of Acquisition.
AND PROUD OF IT <3
AMEN TO THIS!!!!!!!!!!
I pulled the keys out of the ignition and as BIg Ben my driving instructor rambled on about one thing or another, I started to cry. He noticed and got quiet. I hadn’t been behind the wheel for a month and this time, at my 18th lesson I couldn’t to find my bearings, my driving was erratic, my turns were choppy, it was as if I had forgotten everything from the previous six lessons. This time when I nearly drove off the road onto an embankment, I was able to make the correction but if any car had been near me, we would’ve been in trouble. Ben knew this and so did I but neither of us bothered to mention it.
Big Ben asked me the same questions he always puts forth when we’re back at Kessler sitting in the car. “How do you think you did? What worked and what didn’t? And the final kicker, “What’s holding you back?”
We’ve been puzzling over the that one almost from the beginning of this adventure. Is it fear? My CP or the CP related drugs I take? My hyper focus? My lack of focus? My response time? My delayed response time. After eighteen lessons I can safely say that neither Big Ben nor I have any fucking idea. For what ever the reason I am not progressing, or I mean, I have progressed, but, more accurately, I do not drive consistently. It’s driving me crazy. It feels as if I’m caught on a treadmill and I can’t make the machine stop, I’m trying desperately to find my balance even though I know I have no balance—If I could just catch up and hold on and keep going or stop.
I dried my tears, gave Big Ben the keys and told him I would be there the next day for another lesson.
I woke up in the middle of the night thinking: What’s holding you back, Katinka? The least I could do for myself is come up with an answer.
I know that CP, spastic cerebral palsy or how it manifests in my body means that it tightens my muscles, makes me move more slowly and affects my hand/eye coordination. It’s why I have can’t catch a baseball if my life depended on it, why, when I try to walk like a biped (one leg after another) I must take my time. It’s why when I make love I am not a speed demon. It’s also why I’m a good listener, because I naturally take the time to hear through the words, it’s why I write, it’s why I can have long, weirdly detailed, convoluted conversations with Ethan or anybody else for that matter.
So, in the middle of the night, with the porchlight from my neighbour’s house pouring through my bed room window I realized that NOTHING WAS HOLDING ME BACK. In fact, my cp body was doing what my body always does, move more slowly, and yes, react more slowly, improvise in whatever way it,—I— can to stay upright and keep moving.
The question really is why was I expecting this experience, learning to drive, to be different? Why was I insisting on measuring my progress by some able bodied standard that has never applied me to me in the first place? Everyone else can drive, many PWDs drive, so why can’t I? When my body wasn’t doing what it “Should” be able to do, I whined, I wondered, I cried. At this stage of my life I wasn’t expecting to have to relearn the lesson of Self Acceptance yet again. I thought I’d motored happily past that disability sign post a long time ago.
After my midnight ruminations, I resolved to go to sleep and make a decision about whether to continue or not in the morning.
I woke up without a definitive answer. Para-transit picked me and dropped my off in front of Out Patient Services at Kessler and I still didn’t know. I waited for Big Ben for two hours, I asked to speak to him, I followed him down the hall to his office and it wasn’t until I was sitting across from him that the words finally came out. Of course, I had to start crying again, but this time I gave him fair warning. —I told him that after 18 lessons, thousands of dollars, and many hours I thought it was time for me to stop. Full stop. I doubt my answer was actually that coherent but he got the gist.
I dried my tears, thanked Big Ben, called a cab and went home.
Having made this decision, I’ve been wandering around with a bit of that sad, foggy feeling. It’s what comes when you let go something you really wanted, a job, a relationship, an idea, something you’re certain was yours anyway. I had dreams attached to the idea of driving: to be able to tote Ethan around with much less hassle, to drive to a conventional, work- at- the- office job and it goes without saying, to escape to the city.
I know the fog will lift soon enough and I’ll find away, another way, to fill the the space where “YOU ARE THE CAR!” was living. Let’s be real: It’s a punch in the stomach, or to my ego to realize that even after all these years there’s a part of me that wanted to live just a little bit more in Biped World, wave at them, from the next lane behind my perfectly adjusted hand controls in my snazzy well appointed vehicle.
Do I believe that I can learn to drive?
Imagine me: I’m in a custom designed program that encourages me to take lessons every single day without fail for at least three months, a “Driving for Crips” boot camp if you will. For the first month I’m on a closed course with no distractions. Sitting next to me is an attractive, sensitive driving instructor who wants to know, he needs to know every detail about my body and he finds it all so fascinating and we’re driving and….
Katinka. Oh, Katinka. This post brought tears to my eyes. Because I’m the same way. I want to drive, I want to drive so, so badly, have that little piece of Biped World, want to prove to everyone that I can do it. I’ve been taking adaptive lessons for over a year now, and I want to do it, I want to do it so badly, but it’s hard to keep up with the lessons because I’m always away at school. My driving instructor thinks my anxiety is holding me back, that I need to learn to relax, but I have spastic CP and an anxiety disorder and relaxing isn’t in the cards and everyone thinks I shouldn’t learn how to drive, those two things aren’t good for driving, but I want to prove that I can do it. I’m determined to do it and if I don’t do it, I feel like a failure. I just want this. So. Badly. I’m proud of you for recognizing your limits and I understand that feeling of wanting your body to do what it “should” do and realizing that you need to go through that whole acceptance thing again. It’s like you’re talking about me in this post. And…oh god, I’m rambling, but there are few posts on the internet that have actually connected with me so much it hurts, but this is one of them and….thank you, Katinka.
(Woooooah, livin’ on a prayer……) (etc.)
In the past four days, the following things have happened:
This project is advancing beyond our wildest dreams. We are humbled and in awe of the enthusiastic support we’ve received. PLEASE keep sharing the project around so we can stay a featured campaign on indiegogo and keep generating awareness and momentum. As a reminder, we have a facebook page as well as a twitter account (right now we’re asking people to tweet us reasons why the project matters to them under the hashtag #loudhandsproject.) “Like” us, follow us, and keep spreading the word and sharing the link to this campaign around. We have scripts for that!
Julia Bascom, project organizer
I love the Loud Hands project! (And the Livin’ On A Prayer reference!) Please signal boost!
Can I try on the skirt later?
Can you write Frankel a letter?
The Big Bang Theory & Community compete
The Big Bang Theory has a comedian named Pete?
They don’t open till 9
The Omen’s online?
Can you come on Saturday?
Do I have diarrhea?
Can you pull down my pant leg?
Can you pull down my butt leg?
Oh crispy tree, oh crispy tree
Cheerios and rice krispies?
Mom and Dad
I think my favorite is “Do I have diarrhea?”….
You know what sucks? The fact that most of the big name SJ bloggers on here can basically be as ableist as the like as long as they don’t start saying they tip people in wheelchairs over and nobody seems to give a shite. Especially if it’s mental health stuff. We’ve got popular bloggers denouncing everyone who uses a trigger warning for anything other than PTSD from quite specific types of abuse (No, nobody will care if you’re triggered by ableist slurs because you were abused as a kid because you’re autistic). Oh, and you have to be triggered in a very certain way as well. Otherwise you’re just ‘butthurt’. They lampoon all of us who put a [tw] in front of posts with common phobia photos like spiders (one of the most common phobias in the western world) or ableist language (as long as you don’t say ‘spaz’ or ‘retard’ nobody cares. And even then…) or even those of us who put rare triggers under a cut specifically because we know we have a follower that has that trigger. We’re told we’re ‘appropriating triggers’. And yet these same people, every time a [tw] discussion arises, will make pathetic jokes involved putting up a trigger warning for a cake (it’ll give you diabetes!) or a gun (puntastic!) or an ugly armchair or something. But you know, we’re the ones diluting the meaning of the [tw]. We’re simply too weak for the internet!
We get feminist communities calling anti-choicers anything from dump to stupid to crazy to ‘literally autistic’. Yes folks, I’ve seen that last one myself on a facebook pro-choice page that I was bullied out of after calling it out. We get people saying it’s totally cool to want to abort all potentially disabled kids ever. We get the standard hate against the ED community, some of whom do body shame, but all of whom get laughed at. We get practically every SJ’er out there picking on grammar and spelling mistakes, one of the reasons my partner wants to stay off tumblr, because he just knows his dyslexia is gonna get him thrown to the wolves. You seen the latest influx of ‘the problems with SJ’ posts? How many of them say that ‘ableist’ is being used as an insult now?
And the language, my god the language. They’ll often listen to almost everyone who says they’ve been hurt by words like bitch, whore, n*word, and sometimes if they’re feeling generous, they might chuck in the word retard. But if you ever say you’re triggered by the word stupid because of the way you were treated as an autistic person your whole life, if you dare mention that ‘crazy’ brings back vivid memories of how you’re viewed as a person with mental health issues… well, you get a nice healthy dose of ‘fuck off you’re too weak for the internet’.
Don’t get someone’s sarcasm because you’re autistic? Fuck you, get off the internet! Triggered by pregnancy? Fuck you, misogynist, get off the internet! Spelling mistakes? Have a sarky gif and be prepared to be called stupid!
And how about how ableism affects us in other ways? Don’t like perfume because it can make you have an asthma attack? So-called ‘bad’ hygeine habits because of your autism/mental health stuff? Need gifs tagged because you’re epileptic? Don’t always understand everything a store clerk says to you? Well, you’re a joke, you’re pathetic, and at least you don’t have a real problem like racism or cissexism! Those have body counts, unlike ableism!
And I think that last thought is my personal favorite (and by favorite, I mean rage-inducing shitpile) idea these people come out with. Somehow, they’ve erased centuries of the mentally ill, the developmentally disabled, and the physicically disabled being killed at birth, locked in attics and cages, used in sideshows (google the 1932 movie Freaks), abused in homes and schools and care facilities around the world to the very day. I mean Jesus, spend half an hour googling things like Aasylums and lobotomies and freakshows and the holocaust (yes, we were murdered in that, too)… Talk to people of my nanas age who were considered ‘retards’, given nicknames like ‘Susan Sawdust’ (as in sawdust for brains) by her TEACHER, beaten, treated worse than the family pet… hell, spent half a minute on the damn autism tag and see how many ‘I want to hit my autistic sibling’ posts appear. Look in the news and see how many disabled kids are killed by their parents and carers each year and how much sympathy their killers get because we’re just fucking burdens. Talk to any of us who’ve gone through the public school system as a kid with a disability. Google Kerry McDougall, the UK woman who had to fight to keep her children because she was considered ‘too dumb’ for a baby.
I actually find it worse from these pillars of our SJ community than from folks outside the SJ realm. When someone’s already willing to be sexist, racist, or otherwise a d-bag, at least they’re being consistent. But when people are held up by both their fans and themselves as beacons of justice and yet they pull this shit? It’s vile.
Just ask yourself this: If some guy on the internet said something not overtly violent towards women and just posted say, a rant that called his ex-gf a bitch or a whore or something, a lot of folk would call him out. If his friends then jumped in and said ‘oh hey, stfu, he’s a really nice guy he didn’t mean it like that’, people would get provoked. But when one of these darlings of the SJ world says something subtly or even overwhelmingly ableist, be it simple mistake or deliberate assholatry, other SJ people seem more than content to pull the ‘yeah, but I’ve followed them for ages and I like them so stop being sensitive!!’ shit and for the most part, people just sit back and let them get on with it.
So yeah, maybe I’m weak because I can’t deal with ableist language. Maybe I’m pathetic because writing this post has seriously f’d with my head. Maybe I’m just a ‘special snowflake’ and an ‘attention seeker’ (and I’m not even gonna go into the ableist history of those two terms) because I don’t like it when people belittle my disabilties and use them as a joke an an insult. But fuck it, I’m strong enough to tell you all to take your passive-aggressive little ‘trigger warning oops it was gun!’ joke posts and go lick a rusty nail.
(And bonus points if you can guess how many people respond to this with ‘it’s totally anus-ist to use asshole as an inuslt, or other such gems)
Simi Linton, Claiming Disability (via disabilitydiaries1)
I met Simi Linton a few years ago. Epic. :D
Be sure to include words such as ‘inspiring’, ‘courageous’, or ‘tragic’ throughout the passage. When lacking a sufficient adjective to describe the individual, simply deposit any one of these words or equivalent synonyms. In your text, be sure to treat cripples at large as a homogeneous group, and make references and comparisons to media-popularized cripples such as Christopher Reeve. Whether or not such a reference is in any way applicable to the subject is irrelevant.
There are two routes you can embark on when writing about cripples. The Tragic Defeated Cripple, or the Prevailing Heroic Cripple. The Angry Cripple is a common subcategory of the Tragic Cripple. The Angry Cripple must hate the outside world fervently, and their animosity must be attributed to their disability. This person’s anger must be a response to their own pathetic state, not a response to the marginalizing treatment they have experienced. You must then either directly or indirectly state that such a person has a right to be angry, and you wouldn’t expect anything else because they are Tragic and broken.
If the subject has endured any mistreatment from family, ignore it. Family and friends must be portrayed as completely supportive and loving. You should speak in-depth with these people about their cripple, and how exhausting and challenging it is to accommodate this person. You should let the views of family and friends dominate your piece, because while you respect the cripple as an inspirational subject, they are probably over-emotional and biased.
Relate back to your own life experiences, and how this poor crippled soul has impacted your life. Using diction loaded with connotations of “Inspired” is critical at this point. Don’t go into too much depth about the specific facets of this person’s character, but instead make generalized commentary about their life struggle. Do not observe any accomplishments this person has made that are not somehow related to their disability, or if you do, link it back to their disability anyway. Make sure that your audience grasps that you understand what this person is going through, and establish impeccable sympathy without too much actual involvement.
If the person you are writing about is not trying to ‘overcome’ or find a treatment for their condition, something is inherently wrong with them. You should infer that it is Tragic and disappointing that this person has given up, and they could accomplish so much more if they Just Tried.
The whole “Just Tried Harder” comes from everywhere, but the meme seems to start with the medical profession, and get copied everywhere by the media.
This is not the inspiring crip you’re looking for.
Ohh how I love cripple snark :D