Re: your "rule about naked people" -- How about people who take nude photos of themselves not be stupid and use storage devices that can be hacked, like cloud storage (or take any risks close to that)? Just HOW much personal responsibility does your generation need to shed before you get it through your thick skulls that it only costs $20 for a decent external hard drive these days? :|
"The lock on your diary wasn’t very good, so it’s your fault I read your diary."
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Don’t ask a twelve-year-old to know death. He’ll always fidget in the face of it; when his grandmother says ‘I think it’s about time I met my maker’ as she lies in bed on a still afternoon, sun still peeping through lime tree branches at her, light upon her wrinkles, he’ll ask his brother if he knew what that meant. He will answer rudely, in part because he’s hoping that’s not what it meant. They don’t know the difference between sleep and weightlessness. Don’t get mad at them, they don’t know what warrants a warning bell. It’s been just as long since that moment and they still fear not knowing a lot. They ring the bell for everything now, you can hear it; they’ll run riot with their wrists dancing the brass curve outside your window for as much as a bad joke involving aspirin and a sharpener. Everything is urgent because nothing can be taken back. They don’t want to hear the song for graveside sunsets, so they’ll play the alarm like fear is life because fear is proof that everything is beating just fine, or finer. We’ll ring for joy, and you’ll curse us after.
Lets do an experiment: reblog if you would feel safer hanging out with trans women (regardless of what genitals they currently posses) than Cis women who are transphobic and deny trans women’s obvious womanhood.