How is my baby brother ordering a beer right now?
BuzzFeed Yellow / Via youtube.com
How is my baby brother ordering a beer right now?
BuzzFeed Yellow / Via youtube.com
Just like, what? I do NOT get it. Ugh. Guy films, am I right?
RIP Chuckie Finster’s mom.
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Cartoon Network / Via praeoccupatio.tumblr.com
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Dear God, NO.
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Everything tastes better with Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.
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Every day is ’90s Father’s Day.
Roberto Westbrook / Via robertowestbrook.com
Roberto Westbrook / Via robertowestbrook.com
"Then, because you can’t fool a three-year-old, we take the letter to our mailbox," Mary wrote in an essay for Distinction.
Roberto Westbrook / Via robertowestbrook.com
"I assumed the post office would throw it away — or that someone might even laugh at it, or us," she wrote.
Roberto Westbrook / Via robertowestbrook.com
"I'm in Doggie Heaven. I play all day. I am happy. Thank you 4 being my friend. I wuv you Luke," read the note, written on USPS paper.
Adorably, Luke was apparently unsurprised to hear from his late furry friend.
Mary Westbrook / Via distinctionhr.com
She added, "Here’s to Moe, in doggie heaven, and thoughtful postal workers everywhere."
Mary Westbrook declined to comment for this story, saying she is writing another essay on the sweet gesture.
Mary Westbrook / Via distinctionhr.com
Update, 6:32 p.m., ET: The Virginian-Pilot tracked down the postal worker who wrote the sweet letter to Luke, a 25-year postal service employee named Zina Owens.
“I felt it in my heart,” she said. “Here was a child who had lost his dog, and any time you love something and it goes away, it hurts.”
The letter's innocence "made my day," she said, "“so I wanted to make his. It’s just love. Plain and simple.”
Who made the potato salad?
Via gifbin.com
FOX
FOX
Come for the props and puns, stay for the chronicle of Shamu getting fired from Sea World.
Here is why.
Water is boring. Cereal is better.
Hollywood Is Hard / youtube.com
Totally Wizard / youtube.com
One artist’s trash is another’s No. 1 single.
Sony Music
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Apple’s intelligent personal assistant appears to be a bit soccer-ignorant.
JEWEL SAMAD / Getty Images
The United States Women's National Soccer team will take the field at 8:00 P.M. eastern time tonight against Sweden. The match is at Winnipeg Stadium in Winnipeg, Canada. The match will be shown on FOX, NBC Universo, NBCDeportes.com. I retreived this information by visiting the USWNT's splendid website. I had to go there (I didn't feel like giving my web traffic to the fine, upstanding people of FIFA) because my trusted iPhone assistant, Siri didn't know anything about the game. In fact, she's not even familiar with the Women's World Cup.
Keelo and Koda are the cutest BFFs this side of the internet.
Nicholas K. Geranios/Associated Press
Over the past few years, she has consistently identified as either black or bi-racial in her own newspaper columns, interviews with the news media, and even her own painting.
But on Thursday, her biological parents said the civil rights activist is actually white.
BuzzFeed News read through more than a 100 articles by or about Dolezal. Following are some excerpts:
Earlier this year, Spokane was shaken by controversy after the relatives of one of its more prominent citizens called the man's ethnicity into question.
Daniel K. Oliver was the the first black member of the town’s legislature, elected in 1895. But when he was inducted into the town hall of fame in 2015, his great- grandnephew and great-granddaughter – the family's genealogist – told the Spokesman-Review that their relative was white.
The paper asked local Dolezal to comment. Here’s what she had to say:
Dolezal said she was familiar with Oliver’s name from references in books that researched the African-American community’s roots in Spokane. She’s seen a picture of bearded Oliver, who admittedly doesn’t look African-American, but that doesn’t really prove anything, she added.
“Visible identity is just one factor,” Dolezal said. Homer Plessy, the plaintiff in the landmark Plessy v. Ferguson case decided by the U.S. Supreme Court in 1896, the year Oliver took his council seat, was similarly light-skinned, she noted. Plessy was considered “colored” even though seven of his eight great-grandparents were white.
People of mixed race in that era often tried to pass as white “for purposes of survival,” Dolezal said. “Now, that might be seen as a little bit of a traitorous act. Given the time, it’s forgivable, looking back in hindsight.”
If he was trying to “pass,” Oliver might not have been a visible leader of the African-American community. But he wasn’t trying to pass, his family counters. He simply wasn’t African-American and “some researchers won’t listen,” [great- grandnephew] Steve Oliver said.
In September of 2009, Dolezal told the Associated Press that she had found a noose hanging outside her door in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho. Here's what she had to say about the incident:
"I spent a lot of time in Mississippi, so when I saw that rope, I knew what it was," Dolezal told the Coeur d'Alene Press in a story published Wednesday. "You have to learn and practice how to tie a noose. It's a very intentional thing."
The incident occurred a week after burglars stole $13,000 and two guns from Dolezal's home, the AP reported.
The article, which identifies Dolezal as the head of a "black family," notes the local police were investigating the noose as a hate crime.
In another article, Dolezal shared her thoughts about living in Spokane:
"LA cops move up here to get away from diversity," said Rachel Dolezal, director of education for the Human Rights Education Institute in downtown Coeur d'Alene.
Dolezal, a multi-racial woman who graduated from Howard University, jokes that she traded one monoculture for another when she moved here in 2004.
As a woman of color, she finds plenty of challenges in Coeur d'Alene. The center's efforts to bring black history programs to schools, and a black student association to North Idaho College have resulted in letters to the editor criticizing the efforts, she said.
There was also a recent incident in which three skinheads visited the office and asked for a tour, Dolezal said.
They showed little interest in the center's work, she said, but saluted a Nazi flag that was part of an exhibit on propaganda.
"They asked me where I lived," she said, and where her young son went to school.
More recently, Dolezal wrote about the noose incident in one of her columns for Inlander. In this version of the story, she wrote that her son had found the noose:
One Saturday morning, my kids burst into my bedroom. “Mom, there's a rope hanging in the backyard; it looks like a noose!” I raced outside as my mind instantly tracked back to the parting words of a colleague at Howard University when we left Washington, D.C., en route to Idaho. “Don’t go there; you’ll get lynched!” I remember brushing off her comment with some theoretical statement about not living in a culture of fear. But that day my sons found the noose really broke my heart in a certain kind of way. I hadn’t told them about all the other incidents of harassment toward us before that day; I wanted to be their shield against the wave of terror that kept me awake at night. And now they were faced with a symbol of death when picking garden strawberries for breakfast. The police came. They interviewed all three of us, mumbled something about us getting security cameras and logged the incident as a hate crime. Our house was burglarized not once, but several times. There were nooses, swastikas and death threats.
Later in the same column, Dolezal wrote that her son was the only black student in his school "actually being raised by a black parent:"
On the first day in second grade, my son came home with a despondent face. Never mind the fact that he was stung by a bee inside his ear that day; what was really on his mind was that he was the only black kid in his class again. Perplexed, I said that two of the other kids in his class looked black. “They don’t know they’re black,” he said matter-of-factly. At 12, he still distinguishes himself as the only black kid at his school actually being raised by a black parent.
Dolezal's parents said that Izaiah Dolezal, whom Rachel claims is her son, is actually her adopted bother.
In another column for Inlander, Dolezal wrote about white privilege in her son's school:
I asked my son yesterday if he is all ready for seventh grade. Without hesitation, he said, "Ya, pretty much. I've got basically everything except white privilege." His words have been haunting me ever since, with the memory of last year starting out with him getting a concussion, followed by other bullying incidents and social challenges at school here. What exactly does white privilege mean to a 12-year-old embarking on seventh grade …at Sacajawea Middle School? What does white privilege mean in Spokane, or North Idaho in general? I think of him turning 13 this October and feel powerless to spare him from the daily reminders of white privilege, or maybe more accurately white supremacy... the school curriculum, the school staff demographics, the student body, the national news stories. In case you’ve missed them: more young Black males being beaten, shot, arrested, or killed, while their white counterparts get away with… yes, sometimes murder.
In this piece for Inlander, Dolezal wrote about the pain of black mothers in the face of police brutality:
The flames erupting in Ferguson are the fires burning in the hearts of mothers of black sons in this nation. We cry for the life nurtured inside us those nine months, for the years of tending and mending our child, for the brief pride we felt in his manhood before the light left his eyes. We tell our sons to walk with both eyes open, hands visible and quick feet ready to run. We advise them to keep receipts for everything they purchase, speak politely and dress sensibly. We hoped that the toil of our ancestors would have freed them from the curse of these limitations and the threat of harm, and we dreamed that we would never awake to feel this pain.
In the same column, she wrote about the difficulties that people who have not experienced oppression sometimes have in understanding those who have:
Where do we go from here? People who have not felt the lash of centuries of oppression beating down on their backs tell us to keep calm and carry on. What insanity makes those in power imagine they have any idea what the logical response should be? What psychosis perpetuates the myth that if we listen to “both sides,” we will somehow find the truth, as if the hunter and the hunted, the dead and the living, could be consulted with a fair and even outcome.
In another column for Inlander, Dolezal wrote about the importance of non-black allies:
It is important for white Spokane and non-black communities of color in the area to support and affirm the value of black lives. Whether you march with us, advocate for your black friends and colleagues, or join the NAACP, allies in this cause are appreciated. At 1.9 percent of the local population, we need to know that black lives matter to the other 98.1 percent. We notice which teachers, co-workers, bosses, organizations, churches and local businesses show support. We also notice who doesn't show up and sometimes wonder why.
Dolezal also wrote an Inlander column about the difficulties of making money, where she said the following:
My career has ranged from serious roles such as nonprofit director, political campaign manager and adjunct professor, to artistic jobs like being a sushi chef, model and ethnic hair stylist.
Dolezal was quoted in a 2010 New York Times article about the rise of the Tea Party:
Rachel Dolezal, curator of the Human Rights Education Institute in Coeur d’Alene, has also watched the Tea Party movement with trepidation. Though raised in a conservative family, Ms. Dolezal, who is multiracial, said she could not imagine showing her face at a Tea Party event. To her, what stands out are the all-white crowds, the crude depictions of Mr. Obama as an African witch doctor and the signs labeling him a terrorist. “It would make me nervous to be there unless I went with a big group,” she said.
In 2010, Dolazel painted a picture of two young black women. She described the painting as follows:
"Sidhe" is a Gaelic term meaning, "spirit." This composition is a double self-portrait of the artist's spirit, both disciplined and controlled in subtlety, as seen in the foreground figure, and unbounded & free, as seen in the figure departing the composition at right. Set in an undefined interior scape, the background could also be imagined as a landscape horizon. Intricate detail, precise craftsmanship.
LINK: A Civil Rights Leader Has Disguised Herself As Black For Years, Her Parents Say
LINK: NAACP Stands By Rachel Dolezal
LINK: Here Are Rachel Dolezal’s Responses So Far Concerning Her Race And Hate Mail
With a few TV shows thrown in, for good measure.
Let these serve as a reminder that you should always film your animals.
Find out the harsh truth.
“Gay uncle” by any other name wouldn’t sound as sweet.
This is not the youngling you are looking for.
Five actors at the heart of Netflix’s hit series talk to BuzzFeed News about playing prisoners and bringing nuance to their roles.
Adrienne C. Moore as Black Cindy, Uzo Aduba as Suzanne, and Danielle Brooks as Taystee in a scene from Season 3 of Orange Is the New Black.
Jojo Whilden/Netflix
Some of the funniest and most honest moments in Netflix's hit series Orange Is the New Black happen when a particular combination of characters — Tasha "Taystee" Jefferson (Danielle Brooks), "Black Cindy" Hayes (Adrienne C. Moore), Janae Watson (Vicky Jeudy), Poussey Washington (Samira Wiley), and Suzanne "Crazy Eyes" Warren (Uzo Aduba) — get together.
The audience laughs as they sit around a cafeteria table making up rap songs, whispering about homemade hooch in the library, or answering trivia questions with "the white Michelle Williams." And we cry when they unravel, as we've seen with Aduba's Suzanne, who, in a highly emotional moment, repeatedly slapped herself in the head while she called herself stupid — a moment made all the more heartbreaking considering that her character lacks the same social development as her contemporaries.
Brooks calls the tribe of five the "Chocolate Goddesses." The actors are their own sorority, bounded by race and their impressive (and downright intimidating) academic pedigree — the women all have studied at some of the finest acting institutions in the country, and many can boast a classical Shakespearean training. But on Orange, they're playing a group of black women who — some have argued — are stereotypical, neck-swiveling, wrong-side-of-the-tracks criminals. And that potentially polarizing issue did give several of the actors pause, especially those who were signing up for their very first roles on television.
"When I first started this, I was very skeptical, being that I was a black woman playing an inmate. I was very nervous about that," Brooks told BuzzFeed News in a phone interview. "But … every story is valid, everyone's story. Whether we like to admit that, there's a lot of women that are of African descent that are incarcerated, or people of color who are incarcerated — those are stories that need to be told too. I feel like when they're told so specifically, and so authentically, and stated and done with so much truth, then I'm up for it."
And Orange Is the New Black does just that: All of the characters on the series landed behind bars for very specific and distinct reasons — the good girl gone bad, the drug mule, the airport employee who stole private property, and the list goes on. Yet these women feel fully realized. The beauty is in their backstories of college dreams dashed, the perils of growing up in the foster care system, and what happens when mental illness isn't properly treated.
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There’s an old local saying: “one chopstick breaks easily, but 10 together is as strong as iron.”
Immediately, somebody tried to pull her out, but failed with her hair and clothes being wrapped under the wheel.
Sorry, I can’t teach you how to dougie.
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