it’s honestly scary seeing how popular raw feeding for cats and dogs is becoming. for so long dogs and cats weren’t coming down with nutrient deficiencies because of commercially available pet food and now they’re making a comeback, plus people have literally died from the diseases transferred by raw feeding… it’s not surprising, though, that raw feeding is growing in popularity considering how popular anti-science movements for humans are right now too. like you can literally go into a pet store and see signs plastered all over claiming that raw is the best when there’s not a shred of evidence for that. it’s so ironic that pet store employees will tell you that the eVil vEtS iN bEd WiTh BiG kiBbLe only recommend a certain food because they get paid to do so and then in the very next breath recommend an obscenely expensive raw food that obviously gives the store a pretty big profit margin. i get why people might not trust the pet food industry but you don’t have to feed raw, you can hire an actual veterinary nutritionist (not just some raw guru online with a “nutrition certificate”) to formulate a homecooked recipe for you
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So it’s been established that Matthew Duckett is the Crutchie that gets to say fuck…
But I’d like to offer the other swear moment that I caught during tonight’s (Feb 18) performance of Newsies.
Also I only caught this because Matthew looked me in the eye when he said it and it killed me
So at the very end of newsies when Jack is offered the job to work as an illustrator and he says to Katherine that he’d be working for her father and Katherine replies “You already work for my father….”
Jack says “oh yeah…”
And Crutchie turned out to the audience and just muttered “Dumbass.”
So anyway, stan Matthew Duckett for giving us the feral Crutchie we deserve.
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granted i have never seen SIX or read a synopsis but as far as i can tell from listening to some of the songs there’s a sensible-ish one and a hot badass lesbian who sings a great dom anthem and one who got her head cut off for her controversial twitter posts and all of them are super hot and probably gay. and there’s something called the haus of holbein which probably involves a lot of psychedelics or whatever.
tell me i got at least some of this right anyway it’s kind of cool and i’ll watch it at some point and maybe also research the plot a little bit? 🤷🏻♀️🤷🏻♀️
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the simple fact that it is impossible to keep killer whales in captivity without causing the same gross anatomical deformity in over half of them should make it plainly obvious that they shouldn’t be kept in captivity at all. ALL adult male orcas, and a considerable chunk of females, whether captive-bred or wild-captured, have collapsed dorsal fins—in the wild, collapsed dorsal fins almost always occur only in orcas who are starving to death or have been injured in some way. and we don’t know if the collapsed dorsal fin has any health, social or behavior impacts! we just don’t know because captive orca facilities have stuck their head in the sand ever since they first started keeping orcas captive and refused to do any research on the phenomenon whatsoever!!! pro-captivity people will tell you in a cheerful, nothing-to-worry-about-folks tone that it doesn’t have any negative impacts, but that’s a lie, because at the end of the day, we don’t know. all we know is that something about captivity clearly causes it; we don’t even know the exact cause. in my opinion, it’s honestly ridiculous to suggest that a male killer whale’s most prominent secondary sex characteristic being totally deformed would have no bearing on his health or social status at all, but that’s just speculation too because nobody has ever looked into this phenomenon at all. that right there should prove that seaworld and their fellow captive killer whale facilities do not care about scientific research or about their animals’ welfare. if any other species experienced a gross anatomical deformity due to captivity (for example, if all male elephants’ tusks fell out, as well as some females’ tusks) and the facilities that held them refused to study it, the zoo industry would be outraged. but because it’s seaworld and they have a huge amount of money and they’re apparently the “world’s foremost experts on killer whales” (despite repeatedly ignoring the hard science from wild orca biologists that makes it obvious that their practices, such as separating moms from calves and restricting their movement, are incredibly harmful), the entire zoo industry just takes their word for it that this deformity is not harmful even though they’ve done no research on it. the dorsal fin issue makes me feel like i’m going insane; seeing smart, animal-loving people fall for this nonsense is very disheartening. it is genuinely shameful that captive killer whale facilities are so willing to overlook a blatant issue because acknowledging it would mean that—gasp!—they’d have to admit that their practices are not perfect and infallible. it would be laughable too if it wasn’t so depressing, because the welfare of these animals is being ignored. but remember kids, seaworld cares! your ticket pays for rescue and research! consume our product to save the earth!
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Jack Kelly is light blue.
The color of bluebirds and Manhattan and the sky out in Santa Fe. The color of freedom and dreamers and dreams pushed down for a day instead spent at work. The blue of artists and bluebells and the spring. But he's also the blue which, although pretty on the outside, is crying out for help underneath it all. Underneath all the freedom is longing, longing to leave and never stay in one place for too long before jumping up and moving again. Underneath the beautiful sky of his personality is a raging storm, one screaming that he's not meant to be here, shouldn't be here, at the moments his newsies treat him kindest. He's the blue sky, but also the blue of lost things.
Crutchie Morris is bright yellow.
The yellow of the ever burning sun, of Apollo's chariot brightening the sky as long as it possibly can. The color of sunflowers and dandelions and golden retrievers, the color of lightning and trophies and victory and dawn. But with the dandelions comes wishes blown away and lost, with the sunshine brightening up the sky comes the yellow of caution tape and anxiety. The yellow of please be careful with me, I'm hurting right now and can't bring you up the way I used to. The yellow of I'm hurting but still trying my best, just please go easy on me- I can't handle everything by myself and hide it all behind a smile anymore. Sometimes his electricity zaps people, and sometimes Crutchie lets people too close to the sun and so they melt and plunge into the sea below.
Racetrack Higgins is neon green.
The green of Monster Energy cans and fresh cut grass, of the plants in Central Park and the lizards and frogs hanging around the ponds he sometimes visits to get his mind off things. The color of science and experiments, of limes and unripened lemons. The color of bounciness and unrest, the color at first screaming "I'm okay" on the outside but once you delve into it you notice it's forcing itself to be okay too hard, the color too bright and artificial to be real. The perfect mix of sky blue and bright yellow, the color the sun and the sky make when you zone out too long and your vision starts to blur. With the neon green comes the color of chameleons, the ability to shift your personality to what the others around you need you to be. Because who is Race if he's not pretending to be the ever-joking, never unhappy prankster?
David Jacobs is the color the sky makes on a rainy day.
The blue of the raging storm of his mind, the thunderclouds hiding behind his polite smile and manners. The blue of stormy seas, of rage and unhappiness and unfairness. The blue of math class and the color the trapped bird sees of the sky when he's locked behind a cage. He's the color of being lost at sea, of the wild rapids down in the Grand Canyon he visited one year with his family when they could still afford to go anywhere. He's the color of raging unhappiness and overthinking every move, but he's also the color of waves gently lapping against boats, of the water down in the harbor he so often visits in Brooklyn when the Manhattan guys get too overwhelming. He's the color of peace and tranquility, but he's also quick to storms of rage and despair.
Spot Conlon is blood red.
The color of Brooklyn and the crabs that snap and pinch if you get too close. The red he so often sees clouding his vision, the blinding red rage of the anger issues he can't control no matter how hard he tries. The red of the blood he often comes home to seeing his newsies covered in, the red of cuts and scrapes and bloody broken noses. He's the red of toughness and of control, the regal red of kings and queens long since past. The red of the circus, of unpredictability and flightiness, of hearts too broken that even diamonds can't ever fix them. He's the red of dusk, of lava and the burning infernos Jack always uses to sell headlines. He's the red of stop signs, of urgently telling people to back down and back away before they get hurt by him. Of hidden pasts and secrets and of urging people to go away before he inevitably snaps and hurts just like the crabs his boys pick through at the docks. But he's also the red of roses, the red of love if you stay long enough to cut past his thorns.
Katherine Pulitzer is bright purple.
The purple close to being magenta but not quite pink enough, of regality and kings and queens and riches. The purple that's just pink enough to be counted as a "woman's color", but also has so much blue to where she never fits in with the women around her. The bright purple of urgency and dawn, of plums and grapes. The purple of the royal she was born to be, the purple of the stronghold her father holds over all of the city. She's the purple of grape soda and pansies, the purple torn between the love of men and women, of a woman torn between the world her father could've given her or the world she could make for herself. But she's just a woman struggling to find her way in a man's ever-judging world, and so she's stuck hoping the dawn of the new decade will be what it takes for her to finally find her place in life.
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