15 Shocking Facts You Never Knew About The Challenger Shuttle Disaster – Ranker
Watch Ashley Graham Celebrate International Lingerie Day By Twerking In Her Underwear – Maxim
Demi Lovato Showed Off Her Boobs Again…This Time On The Red Carpet – Mandatory
Why NASA is Exploring Breast Cancer + Other Stories – Goop
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What Anthony Bourdain Can’t Travel Without – NY Times
Caitlyn Jenner spoke to “The View” on the difficulty of being transgender and Republican – Rare
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Micaela Schaefer Does Baywatch Good! – Hollywood Tuna
A damn fine collection of bewbs, awesomeness and everything in between – Leenks
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1. Parents that didn’t believe that the whole world was out to kidnap / abuse / harm their children and let them go out and play instead.
2. Super Soakers. Water guns today suck, they are not even close to the first and second generation super soakers.
3. The occasional feeling of not having a care in the world.
4. My children look at me like I am their super hero, they believe in Santa and the tooth fairy, they believe they can call me in the middle of the night to look under their bed for monsters or just hold their hand.
I somehow make them laugh until milk comes out of their nose, I can carry both of them at the same time, (barely, but I still can).
They believe I can make anything out of Lego, wood and Duck tape, (Lego and wood are optional).
I miss my dad, and all that came with it.
5. Falling asleep on the couch and waking up in my bed in the morning.
6. I’d say the mindset and outlook of the pre-9/11 general public. I’ve heard that every generation has an event which shapes a lot of their lives, and 9/11 was definitely that for my generation. I always thought that there’d be a slow, almost seamless change, but it was the most abrupt end to an ideal that I’ve ever witnessed.
Do Police Officers Struggle With Becoming Bitter Toward the Public?
Yes. This is particularly a problem when the officer is dealing with a group who he perceives is always making work for him.
The city where I worked was a tourist destination with lots of money and liquor in the mix. It drew a disproportionate share of people who are now called “homeless” (we usually referred to them as “vagrants” or “drunks”) who would panhandle, buy, or otherwise acquire alcohol, and get drunk in parks and other public places. They had very low standards of hygiene, occasionally fought (not very effectively) with officers, and committed many petty offenses that took a great deal of time and resources to deal with.
It was very easy to depersonalize these people and essentially forget they were human. When I worked there, management didn’t make much of an effort to discourage this. The only time anyone would get into trouble over a drunk was when something truly over-the-top happened. For example, a two-officer team working the drunk wagon were loading up the drunks and then racing out of town 20 or 30 miles to the boonies, then dumping them at the side of the freeway. They got fired, but several attempts at trying them were all frustrated by witnesses who were either too drunk to testify or who just couldn’t be found when they were needed.
Dude’s last wish was to be on his bike at his funeral
Man comforts gorilla after its mother was killed by poachers
Phone thief runs right into police station
1. It’s hard to explain, but for me it’s that the sense of being part of some story where you are the protagonist kind of fizzles out unceremoniously and leaves you drifting for the rest of forever.
As a kid, you’re on a path, there’s a plan laid out for you, and whether you intentionally break from the plan or follow it to the letter, there’s this linear progression of growth, and an ultimate goal to strive for. You have allies, you have enemies, you have trials that you pass or fail, you have moments of catharsis, etc. You feel like part of a beautiful narrative, like the heroes in movies and books and tv shows and stories. You feel like there’s a right and a wrong way to go, and some ultimate fate waiting for you at the end that will sum up what all of it meant.
When you get to be an adult, that illusion crumbles away as you realize that you don’t have a narrative, there is no path or plan, things aren’t always linear, and you’re nobody’s hero. There are no allies, because friends can be both good and bad for you simultaneously. There are no enemies, because frankly no one cares enough to wage a personal war for long. You don’t have a destiny. You make choices that are more a product of random chance than you want to admit, and sometimes the consequences make sense, sometimes they don’t. You may flounder around in a bunch of different directions for many years, ultimately not making any progress, and having nothing of import to show for it. You’re not a good person or an evil person – you’re just an ant wandering around looking for crumbs. No, worse than an ant, because an ant has a purpose in life, to serve its queen and colony. You can choose to align yourself with a purpose, but it may never fulfill you or reward you. And nobody will be waiting with a shiny gold medal for you if you stick to it.
Life as an adult seems less and less like an exciting adventure story and more and more like a delerious, confusing fog of random developments and passing phases that raise more questions than they answer.