In 2022, Massachusetts residents voted in favor of a Fair Tax ballot measure to extra-super-duper-tax those earning more than one million dollars a year and to spend the revenue from that on education and transportation initiatives.

Naturally, there were the naysayers. Those who warned that all of the state’s rich people would move away to their very own Galt’s Gulch or whatever, if they were forced to pay a four percent tax on anything they make over a million dollars. The implication there, of course, is that raising this tax would, ironically, lead to the state collecting less revenue overall.

That didn’t happen! In fact, the state has already raised $1.8 billion in revenue so far for this fiscal year — which is $800 million more than they expected, and they still have a few months to go. The vast majority of the surplus will go to a fund that legislators can use for one-time investments in various projects.

The revenue has already been invested in universal school lunches, in more scholarships to public colleges, in improvements to the MBTA, and to repair roads and bridges. These are all things that will improve the quality of life for everyone, including the “ultra-rich” who happen to live there. The fact is, it’s just nice to live in a society that is more civil, that takes care of its people and its children and that fixes things when they are broken.

[ ]

Elizabeth Warren, Pramila Jayapal, and others have introduced bills in the House and Senate for a nationwide millionaire’s tax of two percent — two cents on the dollar for all wealth exceeding $50 million and six percent on all wealth over a billion dollars. This would bring in an estimated $3.75 trillion over 10 years, which we could use to improve the lives of all US citizens. We could have so many nice things!

It’s time to stop living in fear of what millionaires and billionaires — who have made their fortunes off of roads we’ve paid for and employees we’ve paid to educate — will do or where they will move if forced to pay their fair share. That’s no way to live. If they have some place better to go that won’t force them to contribute to improving their community? Let them. Other people will come along and be more than happy to pick up where they left off. But more than likely, they won’t do jack shit because they’re rich, and if they wanted to live someplace else, they’d be there by now.

S N A L I E N

(via)

Lord Caradon analyzes Jerusalem's historical, political, and social context and offers insights and recommendations regarding the city's future, especially within the context of Israeli-Palestinian tensions circa 1980.

“Israel must be secure. Palestinians must be free. One is not possible without the other. Both are now attainable. Jerusalem could show the way” (Caradon, 31).

Citation:

Caradon, H. F. (1980). The future of Jerusalem : a review of proposals for the future of the city / by Lord Caradon (Sir Hugh Foot). Research Directorate, National Defense University.

I know there are cultural differences surrounding how people view being on time etc, so I'm just wondering if anyone can tell me what I should be expecting in this work interaction with someone from Honduras.

I am supposed to set up a meeting with a business manager in Honduras. Three times, he has given me specific times that he says he is available to meet via Microsoft Teams, but then he doesn't show up. Today was the third time. An hour after we were supposed to meet, he called me using WhatsApp (only because he was prompted to by somebody else we are both working with) and wanted to meet that way, but he was on the road so I couldn't really hear what he was saying (I need to record and transcribe and write up our conversation, so hearing what he says is crucial!). So I asked him to let me know when he would next be available to do this over Microsoft Teams. He said "in an hour," which I took to mean somewhere between one and two hours. Two and a half hours have already passed.

Is this normal for business interactions in Honduras? Or is it just this guy?

Should I just expect this to keep happening for the next few weeks before we actually are able to have a conversation?

It’s a vision of society which doesn’t just extend back before the Obergefell decision on same-sex marriage or before the sexual revolution of the ‘60s and ‘70s, before the Civil Rights movement or even before World War II. It goes back further, beyond living memory: to the late 19th century, before the Progressive Era opened the floodgates to what the group regards as a long corruption of America’s founding principles.

. . .

The trove reveals SACR’s core mission: to create a mini-state within a state, composed entirely of Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox Christian men. It’s explicitly patriarchal, demanding that group members assume a dominant role at home, and celebrates the use of force and existence of authority. Amid all the hearkening back to the founding fathers, America’s first principles, and patriotism, there are few mentions of democracy in the materials TPM reviewed.

. .

Under Williams’ leadership, Claremont has become well-known for a vision of America in which the country as we know it is all but lost, set to be replaced by a “regime” that its leaders hope to craft to come after the current, “cold civil war” concludes. 

. . .

The group bans anyone who is not Christian: Jews, Muslims, Hindus, and others. But it goes further than that and bars “non-trinitarian” Christians; Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses, Christian Scientists, and others cannot be SACR members. 

. . .

Women are not allowed in SACR, whatever their faith. The group emphasizes a traditional role for the man in the household, a robust and muscular exercise of temporal authority by men, and the forceful application of male dominion in civic affairs. 

For those not in the know, this is one of the Amanita mushrooms referred to as a Destroying Angel. Never, ever, ever, ever forage with an app. Especially for mushrooms.

Oh my goodness, the woodpecker 😆 (other two are Oriole and female Grosbeak)

These are the times of dreamy quietude, when beholding the tranquil beauty and brilliancy of the ocean’s skin, one forgets the tiger heart that pants beneath it; and would not willingly remember, that this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang.

Remember, Moby Dick is cosmic horror.

klaine + “kissing them to shut them up” would be so fun!! <3

thank you for the prompt !!!! <3 saw you were thinking about klivorce lately, so:

-

After another unproductive session of marriage counselling they were attempting to work together on dinner like the counsellor suggested. Kurt was chopping the vegetables with unwarranted aggressiveness. He was trying to bring up divorce again without actually saying the word. Blaine was pretending not to get the hint.

"I just mean, it feels so crowded like this. Don't you think it'd be easier if we weren't - stuck breathing down each other's necks?"

Blaine continued to stir the soup with a calmness he did not feel. "If you really need the space we could always look at bigger apartments."

This was a bit egregious. There was a frigid and judgemental silence during which Kurt was probably thinking up some cutting retort. Blaine waited.

Kurt dramatically stopped chopping. There it was. The knife thudded to the cutting board to punctuate his frustration. "You're doing it again. Dr. Gallagher said you avoid difficult topics because you can't accept that things aren't as perfect as you pretend they are. You know what I mean. You're doing this on purpose. Stop."

"Then say it. Tell me what you want from me." Blaine turned away from the stove and saw that Kurt had abandoned the vegetables and was staring at him witheringly. So he relished it when he said, "Tell me you want a divorce."

He saw Kurt's expression change at the word "divorce,” almost a flinch, surprisingly a little guilty. It was the guilt that did it. It didn't matter if Kurt was sorry if he was going to do it anyway.

"I love you," Blaine said, to hurt him. "I have and I did and I will love you. Probably more than you love me."

"That's not true," Kurt started to say, but Blaine talked over him, vehement like he hadn’t been at the counsellor’s office, where he’d sulked in silence. His voice was starting to go thick with tears but he couldn’t stop. “You still haven't said it. It's not hard. Haven't you always said you’re not a coward? If you really don’t - if you don’t love me anymore why don’t you - ?” 

The rest was lost in a fierce kiss. Kurt had closed the distance between them in one step and pressed their mouths together, inelegantly. Their teeth kind of clacked and Blaine was reminded of their teenage overtures with their friends on the other side of a doorway. 

But they were alone. Kurt put a hand on Blaine’s jaw and adjusted the angle and then it was good, as good as ever, good like he’d almost forgotten. Blaine kissed back like he knew he always would, even if it hurt him to do it, just to take what he could get. Kurt’s eyes were just as furious as they had been moments earlier and he stared Blaine down even as his fingers cupped Blaine’s cheek with heartbreaking gentleness. There was something imploring in it, a message he was trying to kiss into him, but Blaine didn’t know what it was.

It was overwhelming. Blaine shuddered with a sob that was never realized and Kurt kissed him through it, smothered it with his tongue, and when the tears finally escaped Kurt didn’t move away even though he probably had things to say about how the salt was terrible for his skin.

They were interrupted by the hiss of the soup boiling over. Kurt cursed and Blaine rushed to turn off the stove and then the only sound was the drip of the soup on the floor. 

They looked at each other. The soup dripped steadily. Without knowing who started it they burst into hysterical giggles.

“Sorry,” Kurt said through his laughter. “It’s my fault - I distracted you.”

“No - I salted it too much anyway.” A pause. “On purpose. I was mad at you.”

“That’s stupid. You’d have to eat it too, you know.” 

“Oh my god, I know.”

And they were off again. When the laughter left them Blaine went to get a rag to mop up the spill.

Kurt followed him into the hallway. “It’s not that I - it’s hard for me to say because - “

The hostility all day left Blaine exhausted. The fatigue made him honest. “If you really wanted a divorce I’d let you. I just don’t want you to want it.”

“That’s the problem,” Kurt said, sounding upset again. “I wanted you to want it. So you’d give up on me and prove me right.”

Blaine turned to look at him. Kurt was soft-eyed and vulnerable in the bad lighting. There was the same imploring look from earlier, only Blaine was starting to understand what it said. It spoke of an insecurity so sharp it turned in on itself, and alongside that a question that wanted to be answered without being asked. 

Blaine stepped forward and hugged him. It had been a while but they slipped into the familiar posture, Blaine’s face tucked into Kurt’s neck, Kurt’s arms coming to rest on his back. He could feel Kurt’s ribcage expanding with his breaths, Kurt’s heartbeat against his chest.

“I’m never giving up on you,” he said into Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt held him tighter in response. It was enough.

-

prompts if anyone wants to send any !!

Ma'am/Sir/Other

So much of your blog is "Yaya another thing in my body broke (kill me)"

I'm not judging at all, cause I'm also dealing with that somewhat but,

In the most polite manner possible;

How the fuck do you manage to function without killing everyone around you in a bodily pain induced rage.

Body hurts too much.

But in all seriousness, therapy and a whole lot of radical acceptance.

I don't approve or like what’s happening to me, but realistically, there is no way to avoid it, so I either have to accept it and make changes to my life or reject it and increase my suffering.

It might take me a while to process this change and there might be a few screaming breakdowns in the interim (”it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!”) but after a long time of doing this type of therapy, I’ve gotten good at holding my own hand and holding myself through the despair.

It’s a bit like being my own gentle parent. Like “hey bud, I know this sucks and you’re feeling a lot of big emotions right now. And I’m not asking you to stop feeling them, but I do need you to eat and drink before you get sick, okay? Okay, you’ve had some water, do you want to try for a shower? No? Okay, let’s go back to bed for a bit. We’ll try later... Cry it out if you need to. I’ve got you.”

Probably sounds bonkers to some people but it's the only reason I’m still alive.

My support network is wonderful and they do so much to keep me going, but it wasn't until I allowed myself to feel my emotions and self soothe through them that things got better.

I can’t change what has been done to me. I can’t change the dynamic nature of my disabilities or the fact that parts of my body will continue to break down. But I can accept myself and say, this is the way things are: react accordingly for our continued survival.

Radical acceptance isn’t about approval or giving up. It's a stress tolerance skill that lets you look at some of the worst parts of your life and go “fuck this sucks. Okay, how do I make this suck less?” and then following through on it.

It's a skill that takes a long time to build. But it's well worth investing in.

S5 klaine morning Kurt has been working out a lot lately💪

S5 klaine の朝です。ムキムキになったカート💪

the ABCs of KEH: E IS FOR… EXERCISE

In high school, I did everything I could not to take my shirt off in front of other people. Like, I don't think I showered once after gym class. Now, though, thanks to a little more working out, a little more protein, my outside self is catching up to my inside self.

Posting this a day early because I'm going to be busy quite literally all day tomorrow. So here's some more from the Sebklaine fic, I think soon I'll be switching back to focusing on Kurt and Sebastian but here's a little more Seblaine in the meantime.

So instead he heads to his favorite coffee shop to caffinate and get some work done and his head on straight before he sees Kurt. But then he remembers his favorite coffee shop is also Blaine’s favorite coffee shop and he makes a sharp turn across the street to his backup coffee shop.  Either fate’s out to get him or has a funny way of helping him, because when Sebastian walks through the door, Blaine is the first person he lays eyes on. The glower he levels him with is so dark that Sebastian almost aborts his mission before steeling himself and determining to deal with the elephant now rather than later. He walks over to Blaine’s table and sets his bag in the chair across from him. “We need to talk,” he says, glad his voice stays firm even as Blaine folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes. “But I’m fucking exhausted, so please don’t leave while I get my coffee.” Blaine looks him up and down and Sebastian knows he looks far from his best. Baggy jeans, an old Columbia sweater, and sneakers he’s had to dig out of the trash on three different occasions (thanks, Kurt). Finally he sighs and raises an eyebrow in the direction of the barista and Sebastian takes that as his signal to leave. He gets himself an iced latte with honey and cinnamon and a blueberry muffin, cut in half. He returns to the table and sits heavily, sliding one half of the muffin across the table to Blaine. Blaine eyes it suspiciously, but makes no move to push it back to Sebastian.  “What do you want, Sebastian?” Blaine says, folding his hands in front of him.  “No, how are you, Sebastian? You look like shit, Sebastian?” Sebastian asks, taking a sip of his latte as he raises an eyebrow at Blaine.  Blaine rolls his eyes. “You look like shit, Sebastian.” Sebastian grins. “As opposed to how dashing I usually look?”  The corner of Blaine’s mouth twitches up into a facsimile of a smile before he schools his face back into a scowl. “Don’t make me throw your drink in your face.” “Your drink is closer.” “You think I’m wasting a ten dollar latte on you? You’re not worth that.” “Ouch,” Sebastian says, pressing a hand to his heart in mock pain. “Speak, Sebastian,” Blaine says, “I would like to spend as little time in your presence as is humanly possible.”  “But we’re having such a good tette-e-tette.” Sebastian knows he’s stalling but he’s about to admit to having emotions and previously Kurt is the only person he’s allowed to know that. “Sebastian,” Blaine snaps. Sebastian bites back a remark about loving the way he says his name. It’s, on the one hand, a sure fire way to get slapped, but it also feels a little too real to admit simply to get a rise out of Blaine. “Fine,” Sebastian says and crosses his arms over his chest. “I want us to be friends.” Blaine snorts, but backpedals when he sees the way Sebastian hugs himself tighter and flexes his jaw. He won’t meet Blaine’s eye and the show of anxiety intrigues him. “Kurt finally put his foot down about our vicious banter?” “This isn’t about Kurt,” Sebastian says with a shake of his head. “This is about you and me.”

I'll tag @calsvoid, @lusthurts, @sperrywink, @wowbright, @annepi-blog, and

@bitbybitwrites

If your modern Javert Derailed AU doesn’t feature him downloading the Reddit app in a fugue state and posting, unedited, the longest and most controversial inquiry r/AmItheAsshole has ever seen, dni