i've decided my main personal goal/resolution/whatever for 2023 is to start taking better care of my hair. mostly because i keep looking back at photos of me when i was younger and mourning the fact that my once curly hair is now wavy at best (except for the strands right in front of my ears, which are the only part of my hair that has retained a nice curl pattern and which torment me on a daily basis)
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someone needs to have a talk with taylor sheridan because between yellowstone having one of its main antagonists be an evil blood purist native american (whose evil crime is he doesn’t like that a white rancher acts like he owns land that, ya know, was stolen and also said white rancher is treated as being in the moral right for using his undue influence over the government to have the native american guy arrested on trumped up legal charges and then tell him he’s not oppressed and can’t be mad about the treatment of other native americans he was elected to be responsible for because he went to harvard) and 1883′s main dutton character being a literal soldier in the confederate army, someone’s gotta check if everything’s on the up and up
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'As to my weight, Tish, my mother was always considered merely a fine figure of a woman, and I am just her size. It is only since this rage for skinny women---'
But Tish was not listening....
Figures as well as garment have had their fashions and here the woman defending her size is supposed to be in her fifties and this is the 1910s. So if you ponder that she would have been born in the 1860s, and was perhaps talking about her mother’s figure in the 1870s or 1880s. This was when large hour-glass was considered a fine figure, although women were soon to take to the golf courts, than to bikes, and finally to tennis which meant by the 1910s a slimmer and more athletic silhouette was the fashion. By the 1910s, the skin-right bodice had given way to a very loose look, the waist was marked, by the skirt were soft and pleated.
This is from “Tish Does Her Bit” a short comic story, one of many Mary Roberts Rinehart wrote about written about her character Letitia--or Tish--Carberry. She is one of three spinsters and in this story her desire to do some good during World War I, preferably driving her own ambulance. This was published as part of collection in More Tish in 1921.
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It is 1880s America, you are about to spawn as a Historically Significant White Guy. Choose a class:
TROUBLEMAKING FRONTIER PREACHER
Special Power: Good Christian. Your vague adherence to American protestantism will ensure that law enforcement does not bother you whatsoever.
Victory condition: Fuck enough of your followers wives to start an inbred theofascist micronation.
MANICALLY AMBITIOUS CON ARTIST
Special Power: Basic Literacy. You're poor, but you know how to read. They'll never expect it. You may forge literally any document and it will be believed 100% of the time.
Victory Condition: Steal enough money to fuck off to Latin America. A Spanish speaking nation might as well be the moon to your debtors.
EUROPEAN NOBLE FAILSON
Special Power: Colonial Wealth. Your funny accent, foppish dress, and noble title, will make any American think you are totally good to buy it on credit.
Victory Condition: Become the boytoy to the wife of some borderline-gangster politician and save up enough political capital to run for office and get addicted to opium.
DOOMED FRONTIER EXPLORER
Special Power: How The Fuck Are You Alive. Your freakish diet of pork, whiskey, and maple syrup, makes you entirely immune to all physical injury and disease. Somehow.
Victory Condition: You have one mission, and one mission only. You need to piss off some completely friendly natives. You need to piss them off so bad they leave your stupid ass to starve in a food forest they've been cultivating for literally thousands of years.
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Murder! that is what the cheiromantist had seen there. Murder! The very night seemed to know it, and the desolate wind to howl it in his ear. The dark corners of the street were full of it. It grinned at him from the roofs of the houses.
Oscar Wilde, Lord Arthur Savile’s Crime
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