Is anyone else’s “following” feed suddenly filled with ppl you aren’t following?
18.04.2025 13:26
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Is anyone else’s “following” feed suddenly filled with ppl you aren’t following?
Most of the maple seeds have dropped now, replaced with the buds of fresh green leaves. So many robins. So many songbirds.
"The more the [Mark Zuckerbergs, Jeff Bezoses, and Elon Musks of the world] control [the Internet] and the more they can limit user choice and options, the more power they have, but the less useful the internet is as an enabling tool."
As we wait for a verdict that only impacts trans people, and in which no trans people were allowed to speak, I remind you of the last year in the Mail, Times, Telegraph and Guardian when it comes to trans people.
None of these were written by trans people
A newspaper clipping from Mike Ryoko part one: Jackie's Debut a Unique Day All that Saturday, the wise men of the neighborhood, who sat in chairs on the sidewalk outside the tavern, had talked about what it would do to baseball. I hung around and listened because baseball was about the most important thing in the world, and if anything was going to ruin it, I was worried. Most of the things they said, I didn't understand, although it all sounded terrible. But could one man bring such ruin? They said he could and would. And the next day he was going to be in Wrigley Field for the first time, on the same diamond as Hack, Nicholson, Cavarretta, Schmitz, Pafko, and all my other idols. I had to see Jackie Robinson, the man who was going to somehow wreck everything. So the next day, another kid and I started walking to the ballpark early. We always walked to save the streetcar fare. It was five or six miles, but I felt about baseball the way Abe Lincoln felt about education. Usually, we could get there just at noon, find a seat in the grandstand, and watch some batting practice. But not that Sunday, May 18, 1947. By noon, Wrigley Field was almost filled. The crowd outside spilled off the sidewalk and into the streets. Scalpers were asking top dollar for box seats and getting it.
Part II: I had never seen anything like it. Not just the size, although it was a new record, more than 47,000. But this was twenty-five years ago, and in 1947 few blacks were seen in the Loop, much less up on the white North Side at a Cub game. That day, they came by the thousands, pouring off the northbound Ls and out of their cars. They didn't wear baseball-game clothes. They had on church clothes and funeral clothes·suits, white shirts, ties, gleaming shoes, and straw hats. I've never seen so many straw hats. As big as it was, the crowd was orderly. Almost unnaturally so. People didn't jostle each other. The whites tried to look as if nothing unusual was happening, while the blacks tried to look casual and dignified. So everybody looked slightly ill at ease. For most, it was probably the first time they had been that close to each other in such great numbers. We managed to get in, scramble up a ramp, and find a place to stand behind the last row of grandstand seats. Then they shut the gates. No place remained to stand. Robinson came up in the first inning. I remember the sound. It wasn't the shrill, teenage cry you now hear, or an excited gut roar. They applauded, long, rolling applause. A tall, middle-aged black man stood next to me, a smile of almost painful joy on his face, beating his palms together so hard they must have hurt.
Part III: When Robinson stepped into the batter's box, it was as if someone had flicked a switch. The place went silent. He swung at the first pitch and they erupted as if he had knocked it over the wall. But it was only a high foul that dropped into the box seats. I remember thinking it was strange that a foul could make that many people happy. When he struck out, the low moan was genuine. I've forgotten most of the details of the game, other than that the Dodgers won and Robinson didn't get a hit or do anything special, although he was cheered on every swing and every routine play. But two things happened I'll never forget. Robinson played first, and early in the game a Cub star hit a grounder and it was a close play. Just before the Cub reached first, he swerved to his left. And as he got to the bag, he seemed to slam his foot down hard at Robinson's foot. It was obvious to everyone that he was trying to run into him or spike him. Robinson took the throw and got clear at the last instant. I was shocked. That Cub, a hometown boy, was my biggest hero. It was not only an unheroic stunt, but it seemed a rude thing to do in front of people who would cheer for a foul ball. I didn't understand why he had done it. It wasn't at all big league. I didn't know that while the white fans were relatively polite, the Cubs and most other teams kept up a steady stream of racial abuse from the dugout. I thought that all they did down there was talk about how good Wheaties are.
Part IV: Late in the game, Robinson was up again, and he hit another foul ball. This time it came into the stands low and fast, in our direction. Somebody in the seats grabbed for it, but it caromed off his hand and kept coming. There was a flurry of arms as the ball kept bouncing, and suddenly it was between me and my pal. We both grabbed. I had a baseball. The two of us stood there examining it and chortling. A genuine major-league baseball that had actually been gripped and thrown by a Cub pitcher, hit by a Dodger batter. What a possession. Then I heard the voice say: "Would you consider selling that?" It was the black man who had applauded so fiercely. I mumbled something. I didn't want to sell it. "I'll give you ten dollars for it," he said. Ten dollars. I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what ten dollars could buy because I'd never had that much money. But I knew that a lot of men in the neighborhood considered sixty dollars a week to be good pay. I handed it to him, and he paid me with ten $1 bills. When I left the ball park, with that much money in my pocket, I was sure that Jackie Robinson wasn't bad for the game. Since then, I've regretted a few times that I didn't keep the ball. Or that I hadn't given it to him free. I didn't know, then, how hard he probably had to work for that ten dollars. But Tuesday I was glad I had sold it to him. And if that man is still around, and has that baseball, I'm sure he thinks it was worth every cent.
The largest paying crowd in the history of Wrigley Field was the day Jackie Robinson made his debut. Wrigley is the only park left Jackie played a game in. Mike Ryoko was a kid at that ballpark that day and he wrote about it. Take a minute and read this today.
press.uchicago.edu/Misc/Chicago...
HAPPY TAX DAY!
How much would you spend on a year of tornado warnings? The average US taxpayer spends only $4 a year to help fund the NWS. It’s a smart investment—every $1 invested in NWS yields approx. $73 in social benefits.
🌪️❄️ Support science. Support the NWS.
Stay tuned for more this #TaxDay
Why does this remind me of the Outer Worlds posters?
it doesn't matter at all, but the fact that the people they've abducted a bunch of very gentle and extremely innocent people helps demonstrate how hollow their pretexts are. they're lying about our students, friends, neighbors, & family, calling them all threats, and we can refute the lies easily
Glanced outside just in time to see an ephemeral dance of pink maple seeds twirling their way towards the ground.
Perhaps the most exciting thing happening in the world right now: solar power reliably doubling its deployment every three years. My question for you, looking at this chart, is simple: what do you think is going to happen next?
Ahhhh yes, my old pal, hyperfixation #BluePrince
An original set of 5 CDs for the computer game, Riven.
Correction: 5 disks. Real ones remember hitting certain areas of the map and having to insert a new CD and wait 5 min while it loaded.
When I was a kid, I played HOURS of Myst and Riven (back when it came on a whole 7-disk set, no less).
Blue Prince is scratching that exact itch.
Hey friend, don’t forget to do your physical therapy. Stay strong and mobile and ready to fight!
open in JUST under an hour.
link will be live AT noon ET.
I imagine call will be full and closed and the link dead within minutes... if that long.
see y'all soon!
havehashad.submittable.com/submit/32513...
Becky Chambers is my auto-buy. But also Megan Giddings, Kevin Wilson, Han Kang. Do graphic novelists count? If so, Tillie Walden.
Autofocus Books is now open for book subs! Send your manuscripts in the forms that we publish up to 80,000 words. The majority of books we’ve published have been 15,000 to 40,000 words, but we also publish shorter and longer books, so send what you’ve got if it’s artful and autobiographical. Any questions, you can reply to this post. Deadline: Sun May 11 before midnight ET. Find the Submittable link at autofocusbooks.com.
For the first time in 18+ months, we (finally) have a call for open submissions again (for one month)!
autofocuslit.submittable.com/submit
The United Videogame Workers union is open to any gaming worker in the US and Canada and will focus on industry-wide job loss.
Submissions call! Theme: Tell us a secret 🤫! We’re asking for your secrets, broadly interpreted: A death-bed confession? An impossible craving? A hidden room in the count’s sprawling manse? The moonbase beneath the moonbase? The true identity of your friend’s cool mom? The real reason the dinosaurs disappeared? Did you know that the doorway to hell is located under an abandoned Shell station in Lima, Ohio? Did you know Miss Piggy was a secret agent? Did you know Lyndon B. Johnson could astral project at will? 🤫 Short fiction, short nonfiction, or non-lineated prose poems only (two max, please). 🤫 500 words or fewer total. 🤫 Shorter’s often better. Sometimes not. Thank you for trusting us 😈 hex (Kate, Danny, Joe)
SECRET SUBMISSION CALL!!
By which we me mean... a "SECRETS" themed submission call.
In ~48 hours. Saturday, 4/12, 12pm (noon) ET.
Sub call capped at 150 submissions.
Guest editors? Team hex (Kate, Danny, Joe)!
This article was the first I’d heard about this game and I bought it the second it came out this morning. It sounds that good.
Vibe tariffs
I’d rather burn my face with a road flare
Your worst stories are good and worthy. Your unsellable books rejected by every agent are good and worthy. You have more creativity in your pinky than every single power monger trying their damndest to steer this country into the new dark ages.
DC friends: free workshop this month!
A panel and series of workshops about the how/why/when of writing about caregiving. If you care for children, aging parents, a sibling, or even through your work: we'd love to write with you. ♥️
writer.org/event/caregi...
Each year INCH publishes four issues: poetry, fiction, nonfiction, and a fourth highlighting an NC author (any of the three genres). Submissions are open until April 15! #Submissions www.readinch.com
It’s the cutover to the ellipsis for me 🤣
In theory, the outlet should be made so that only specially designed plugs can fit into it, keeping the data secure. But if you have a particularly lazy or inept outlet builder, then they’ll build something standard that any old plug can fit into.
This is the analogy I use most often. It’s not perfect, but it helps: if you think of data like electricity, then an API is like an outlet. You can plug other programs into it and they will power up with your data.
A tricky thing about modern society is that no one has any idea when they don’t die.
Like, the number of lives saved by controlling air pollution in America is probably over 200,000 per year, but the number of people who think their life was saved by controlling air pollution is zero.