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1000 results for “anecdata”
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RT by @UEGuatemala: La @DiputadaMatias, en #TuVozCuenta nos comenta sobre sus anécdotas a lo largo de su carrera política.
👉 Esta iniciativa forma parte del Proyecto #ParticipaMujer, financiado por la @UEGuatemala, el cual busca promover la plena participación política de las mujeres en Guatemala.
🐦🔗: https://nitter.cz/onumujeresgt/status/1753801070931808603#m
[2024-02-03 15:22 UTC]
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Demand for Worcestershire sauce has... peaks and valleys in my house
#condiments
#ShepherdsPie
#BloodyCeasar
#AnecdotalEvidence
#NoActualData
#bzzzzzttt -
Demand for Worcestershire sauce has... peaks and valleys in my house
#condiments
#ShepherdsPie
#BloodyCeasar
#AnecdotalEvidence
#NoActualData
#bzzzzzttt -
Demand for Worcestershire sauce has... peaks and valleys in my house
#condiments
#ShepherdsPie
#BloodyCeasar
#AnecdotalEvidence
#NoActualData
#bzzzzzttt -
Demand for Worcestershire sauce has... peaks and valleys in my house
#condiments
#ShepherdsPie
#BloodyCeasar
#AnecdotalEvidence
#NoActualData
#bzzzzzttt -
@matthewbarr I read your abstract. I am a 26 year teacher of Computer Science in my anecdotal experience students who have the most difficult time in CS find critical thinking at the core of their difficulty. In schooling we (yep I take responsibility for this too) teach our students to be derivative and memorization machines. How does one teach creativity, innovation, and critical thinking? I believe is the question that should focus the future of education. #edtooter #edtech
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#LGBTQ+ #political #representation #grows in #nashville.
#Councilmember #NancyVanReece's #anecdotal #experience of #Nashville becoming more #receptive is reflected in the #OutforAmerica #report by the #LGBTQVictoryInstitute.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #Tennessee #Politics #DemocraticParty #Allies #Pride #PrideMonth #Representation #Culture
https://www.axios.com/local/nashville/2023/06/26/lgbtq-political-representation-nashville -
#LGBTQ+ #political #representation #grows in #nashville.
#Councilmember #NancyVanReece's #anecdotal #experience of #Nashville becoming more #receptive is reflected in the #OutforAmerica #report by the #LGBTQVictoryInstitute.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #Tennessee #Politics #DemocraticParty #Allies #Pride #PrideMonth #Representation #Culture
https://www.axios.com/local/nashville/2023/06/26/lgbtq-political-representation-nashville -
#LGBTQ+ #political #representation #grows in #nashville.
#Councilmember #NancyVanReece's #anecdotal #experience of #Nashville becoming more #receptive is reflected in the #OutforAmerica #report by the #LGBTQVictoryInstitute.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #Tennessee #Politics #DemocraticParty #Allies #Pride #PrideMonth #Representation #Culture
https://www.axios.com/local/nashville/2023/06/26/lgbtq-political-representation-nashville -
#LGBTQ+ #political #representation #grows in #nashville.
#Councilmember #NancyVanReece's #anecdotal #experience of #Nashville becoming more #receptive is reflected in the #OutforAmerica #report by the #LGBTQVictoryInstitute.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #Tennessee #Politics #DemocraticParty #Allies #Pride #PrideMonth #Representation #Culture
https://www.axios.com/local/nashville/2023/06/26/lgbtq-political-representation-nashville -
Seriously considering #MicroDosing to see if it helps with my #menopausal brain fog - lots of research and anecdotal evidence to say it helps but wondering if anyone here has had good results?
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Seriously considering #MicroDosing to see if it helps with my #menopausal brain fog - lots of research and anecdotal evidence to say it helps but wondering if anyone here has had good results?
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Seriously considering #MicroDosing to see if it helps with my #menopausal brain fog - lots of research and anecdotal evidence to say it helps but wondering if anyone here has had good results?
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Seriously considering #MicroDosing to see if it helps with my #menopausal brain fog - lots of research and anecdotal evidence to say it helps but wondering if anyone here has had good results?
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🎹 ■ Entrevista a Prince Royce, que ha sacado el disco de sus sueños: de la anécdota de su madre al homenaje a los Backstreet Boys ■ El artista bachatero habla con Tony Aguilar sobre su nuevo álbum de estudio: ‘Eterno’
https://los40.com/2025/05/19/entrevista-a-prince-royce-que-ha-sacado-el-disco-de-sus-suenos-de-la-anecdota-de-su-madre-al-homenaje-a-los-backstreet-boys/?int=MASTODON_WORLD#musica #princeroyce #discosmusica #entrevistas #los40globalshow
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How #AI #Erases #Queer #Content.
I drew on an anecdotal example from my use of Microsoft Copilot and DALL·E 3 which refused to generate an image of “a queer person.” As it turns out, I’m not the only person who noticed this alarming bug — so did the news team at Nature.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #AI #Representation #Culture #Hate #Bigotry #Homophobia #Transphobia
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How #AI #Erases #Queer #Content.
I drew on an anecdotal example from my use of Microsoft Copilot and DALL·E 3 which refused to generate an image of “a queer person.” As it turns out, I’m not the only person who noticed this alarming bug — so did the news team at Nature.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #AI #Representation #Culture #Hate #Bigotry #Homophobia #Transphobia
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How #AI #Erases #Queer #Content.
I drew on an anecdotal example from my use of Microsoft Copilot and DALL·E 3 which refused to generate an image of “a queer person.” As it turns out, I’m not the only person who noticed this alarming bug — so did the news team at Nature.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #AI #Representation #Culture #Hate #Bigotry #Homophobia #Transphobia
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How #AI #Erases #Queer #Content.
I drew on an anecdotal example from my use of Microsoft Copilot and DALL·E 3 which refused to generate an image of “a queer person.” As it turns out, I’m not the only person who noticed this alarming bug — so did the news team at Nature.
#Women #Transgender #LGBTQ #LGBTQIA #AI #Representation #Culture #Hate #Bigotry #Homophobia #Transphobia
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eeepa, un jambo ha empezado su charla al equipo global autodenominándose literalmente experto en el tema de su charla y luego reafirmando esto poniendo ejemplos de porqué... y amigas, no lo hagáis 🚩.
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CW: #MutualAid Fundraiser Update #2 and general old man yelling at clouds
I don't even know what to write at this point.
Every month I tell myself, "Okay, this is the month we get back on track. I'm going to go get a second job. We're going to do this on our own for once, goddammit."
Yet my job takes just enough of a physical and emotional toll that I can't seem to function. I can't get focused. I can't get the apartment cleaned up or get everything organized, I can't seem to summon the willpower to go through the mind-numbingly asinine job application process to some other retail job that's probably even more demeaning than the one I currently hold.
So every month we only make rent thanks to charity. The only reason we're not homeless is because we're receiving mutual aid. I'm not exaggerating. We would absolutely be on the streets without everyone's help on the Fedi.
This has been going on for two years now.
It seems reasonable to ask, "Well, why don't you apply for government assistance? Why don't you reach out to local charities? Why don't you handle your money better and quit relying on strangers?"
Let me offer brief summary of the circumstances of someone I know to help answer those questions:
A co-worker of mine - a single mother with multiple health problems, has needed to resort to payday loans for enough money to eat.
She makes *just* enough money to not qualify for much public assistance, and struggles with tech literacy so it's a nightmare for her trying to navigate all the hoops one must jump through.
She reached out to the local clergy of the predominant religious faith in the area. It's one of the most wealthy religious institutions in the world, commanding hundreds of *billions* in assets (thanks to a whistleblower for it to even be publicly known), and she is a member of this church.
They made her give them copies of her paystubs and her bank account statements, detailed financial information of her (just barely turned) adult son who barely makes anything working at a movie theater and that of her brother (also struggling financially, and will only be their roommate until the end of their lease sometime early summer), and still turned her down. They offered her a couple of vouchers for their church-owned food pantry, most of which she's unable to use due to food allergies.
She had to beg them, sobbing, until they finally relented and agreed to cover one month of rent for her and her son (I guess her brother will magically find his portion?) and insisted that this was the last help she would receive from them.
It's a perfect (yes, albeit anecdotal) example of why #MutualAid is crucial: people are falling through the cracks because the institutions we're supposed to be able to rely upon are failing to protect us. Even one of the most wealthy non-profit entities on the planet refuse to help even their own members without forcing them to undergo an embarrassing and demeaning process to prove their worthiness to receive help.
If anyone deserves help, it's her. She's a sweet, good-natured soul just trying to survive. Yet because she isn't computer-savvy and able to constantly begpost like I have the privilege of doing, she is stressed out of her mind and starting to sell all her possessions before she has to move to a different apartment next month and couldn't afford to set any money aside for deposit and related costs.
I can't even remember where I was going with this now after angrily typing all of that. I guess maybe that it isn't always as fucking simple and easy as some people think it is, to be a grifting beggar.
I can promise you one thing, however: I'd be willing to bet that most of us posting #MutualAidRequest after request, would really rather not be doing so.
I would much, much, much rather be giving back to the community.
But that's difficult when your annual salary raises are less than inflation. Or, as I've begun referring to them, "annual pay cuts".
But folks like my co-worker and myself didn't "apply ourselves" to get college degrees, so I guess we're getting what we deserve.
Except it shouldn't be what we deserve.
Survival shouldn't be a privilege to be "earned".
Original #begpost:
https://beige.party/@LibertyForward1/116469237814027295
Venmo: https://venmo.com/thegizmotwins
Cashapp: https://cash.app/$thegizmotwins
PP: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/gizmo1982
GFM: https://gofund.me/12171be3 -
CW: #MutualAid Fundraiser Update #2 and general old man yelling at clouds
I don't even know what to write at this point.
Every month I tell myself, "Okay, this is the month we get back on track. I'm going to go get a second job. We're going to do this on our own for once, goddammit."
Yet my job takes just enough of a physical and emotional toll that I can't seem to function. I can't get focused. I can't get the apartment cleaned up or get everything organized, I can't seem to summon the willpower to go through the mind-numbingly asinine job application process to some other retail job that's probably even more demeaning than the one I currently hold.
So every month we only make rent thanks to charity. The only reason we're not homeless is because we're receiving mutual aid. I'm not exaggerating. We would absolutely be on the streets without everyone's help on the Fedi.
This has been going on for two years now.
It seems reasonable to ask, "Well, why don't you apply for government assistance? Why don't you reach out to local charities? Why don't you handle your money better and quit relying on strangers?"
Let me offer brief summary of the circumstances of someone I know to help answer those questions:
A co-worker of mine - a single mother with multiple health problems, has needed to resort to payday loans for enough money to eat.
She makes *just* enough money to not qualify for much public assistance, and struggles with tech literacy so it's a nightmare for her trying to navigate all the hoops one must jump through.
She reached out to the local clergy of the predominant religious faith in the area. It's one of the most wealthy religious institutions in the world, commanding hundreds of *billions* in assets (thanks to a whistleblower for it to even be publicly known), and she is a member of this church.
They made her give them copies of her paystubs and her bank account statements, detailed financial information of her (just barely turned) adult son who barely makes anything working at a movie theater and that of her brother (also struggling financially, and will only be their roommate until the end of their lease sometime early summer), and still turned her down. They offered her a couple of vouchers for their church-owned food pantry, most of which she's unable to use due to food allergies.
She had to beg them, sobbing, until they finally relented and agreed to cover one month of rent for her and her son (I guess her brother will magically find his portion?) and insisted that this was the last help she would receive from them.
It's a perfect (yes, albeit anecdotal) example of why #MutualAid is crucial: people are falling through the cracks because the institutions we're supposed to be able to rely upon are failing to protect us. Even one of the most wealthy non-profit entities on the planet refuse to help even their own members without forcing them to undergo an embarrassing and demeaning process to prove their worthiness to receive help.
If anyone deserves help, it's her. She's a sweet, good-natured soul just trying to survive. Yet because she isn't computer-savvy and able to constantly begpost like I have the privilege of doing, she is stressed out of her mind and starting to sell all her possessions before she has to move to a different apartment next month and couldn't afford to set any money aside for deposit and related costs.
I can't even remember where I was going with this now after angrily typing all of that. I guess maybe that it isn't always as fucking simple and easy as some people think it is, to be a grifting beggar.
I can promise you one thing, however: I'd be willing to bet that most of us posting #MutualAidRequest after request, would really rather not be doing so.
I would much, much, much rather be giving back to the community.
But that's difficult when your annual salary raises are less than inflation. Or, as I've begun referring to them, "annual pay cuts".
But folks like my co-worker and myself didn't "apply ourselves" to get college degrees, so I guess we're getting what we deserve.
Except it shouldn't be what we deserve.
Survival shouldn't be a privilege to be "earned".
Original #begpost:
https://beige.party/@LibertyForward1/116469237814027295
Venmo: https://venmo.com/thegizmotwins
Cashapp: https://cash.app/$thegizmotwins
PP: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/gizmo1982
GFM: https://gofund.me/12171be3 -
CW: #MutualAid Fundraiser Update #2 and general old man yelling at clouds
I don't even know what to write at this point.
Every month I tell myself, "Okay, this is the month we get back on track. I'm going to go get a second job. We're going to do this on our own for once, goddammit."
Yet my job takes just enough of a physical and emotional toll that I can't seem to function. I can't get focused. I can't get the apartment cleaned up or get everything organized, I can't seem to summon the willpower to go through the mind-numbingly asinine job application process to some other retail job that's probably even more demeaning than the one I currently hold.
So every month we only make rent thanks to charity. The only reason we're not homeless is because we're receiving mutual aid. I'm not exaggerating. We would absolutely be on the streets without everyone's help on the Fedi.
This has been going on for two years now.
It seems reasonable to ask, "Well, why don't you apply for government assistance? Why don't you reach out to local charities? Why don't you handle your money better and quit relying on strangers?"
Let me offer brief summary of the circumstances of someone I know to help answer those questions:
A co-worker of mine - a single mother with multiple health problems, has needed to resort to payday loans for enough money to eat.
She makes *just* enough money to not qualify for much public assistance, and struggles with tech literacy so it's a nightmare for her trying to navigate all the hoops one must jump through.
She reached out to the local clergy of the predominant religious faith in the area. It's one of the most wealthy religious institutions in the world, commanding hundreds of *billions* in assets (thanks to a whistleblower for it to even be publicly known), and she is a member of this church.
They made her give them copies of her paystubs and her bank account statements, detailed financial information of her (just barely turned) adult son who barely makes anything working at a movie theater and that of her brother (also struggling financially, and will only be their roommate until the end of their lease sometime early summer), and still turned her down. They offered her a couple of vouchers for their church-owned food pantry, most of which she's unable to use due to food allergies.
She had to beg them, sobbing, until they finally relented and agreed to cover one month of rent for her and her son (I guess her brother will magically find his portion?) and insisted that this was the last help she would receive from them.
It's a perfect (yes, albeit anecdotal) example of why #MutualAid is crucial: people are falling through the cracks because the institutions we're supposed to be able to rely upon are failing to protect us. Even one of the most wealthy non-profit entities on the planet refuse to help even their own members without forcing them to undergo an embarrassing and demeaning process to prove their worthiness to receive help.
If anyone deserves help, it's her. She's a sweet, good-natured soul just trying to survive. Yet because she isn't computer-savvy and able to constantly begpost like I have the privilege of doing, she is stressed out of her mind and starting to sell all her possessions before she has to move to a different apartment next month and couldn't afford to set any money aside for deposit and related costs.
I can't even remember where I was going with this now after angrily typing all of that. I guess maybe that it isn't always as fucking simple and easy as some people think it is, to be a grifting beggar.
I can promise you one thing, however: I'd be willing to bet that most of us posting #MutualAidRequest after request, would really rather not be doing so.
I would much, much, much rather be giving back to the community.
But that's difficult when your annual salary raises are less than inflation. Or, as I've begun referring to them, "annual pay cuts".
But folks like my co-worker and myself didn't "apply ourselves" to get college degrees, so I guess we're getting what we deserve.
Except it shouldn't be what we deserve.
Survival shouldn't be a privilege to be "earned".
Original #begpost:
https://beige.party/@LibertyForward1/116469237814027295
Venmo: https://venmo.com/thegizmotwins
Cashapp: https://cash.app/$thegizmotwins
PP: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/gizmo1982
GFM: https://gofund.me/12171be3 -
CW: #MutualAid Fundraiser Update #2 and general old man yelling at clouds
I don't even know what to write at this point.
Every month I tell myself, "Okay, this is the month we get back on track. I'm going to go get a second job. We're going to do this on our own for once, goddammit."
Yet my job takes just enough of a physical and emotional toll that I can't seem to function. I can't get focused. I can't get the apartment cleaned up or get everything organized, I can't seem to summon the willpower to go through the mind-numbingly asinine job application process to some other retail job that's probably even more demeaning than the one I currently hold.
So every month we only make rent thanks to charity. The only reason we're not homeless is because we're receiving mutual aid. I'm not exaggerating. We would absolutely be on the streets without everyone's help on the Fedi.
This has been going on for two years now.
It seems reasonable to ask, "Well, why don't you apply for government assistance? Why don't you reach out to local charities? Why don't you handle your money better and quit relying on strangers?"
Let me offer brief summary of the circumstances of someone I know to help answer those questions:
A co-worker of mine - a single mother with multiple health problems, has needed to resort to payday loans for enough money to eat.
She makes *just* enough money to not qualify for much public assistance, and struggles with tech literacy so it's a nightmare for her trying to navigate all the hoops one must jump through.
She reached out to the local clergy of the predominant religious faith in the area. It's one of the most wealthy religious institutions in the world, commanding hundreds of *billions* in assets (thanks to a whistleblower for it to even be publicly known), and she is a member of this church.
They made her give them copies of her paystubs and her bank account statements, detailed financial information of her (just barely turned) adult son who barely makes anything working at a movie theater and that of her brother (also struggling financially, and will only be their roommate until the end of their lease sometime early summer), and still turned her down. They offered her a couple of vouchers for their church-owned food pantry, most of which she's unable to use due to food allergies.
She had to beg them, sobbing, until they finally relented and agreed to cover one month of rent for her and her son (I guess her brother will magically find his portion?) and insisted that this was the last help she would receive from them.
It's a perfect (yes, albeit anecdotal) example of why #MutualAid is crucial: people are falling through the cracks because the institutions we're supposed to be able to rely upon are failing to protect us. Even one of the most wealthy non-profit entities on the planet refuse to help even their own members without forcing them to undergo an embarrassing and demeaning process to prove their worthiness to receive help.
If anyone deserves help, it's her. She's a sweet, good-natured soul just trying to survive. Yet because she isn't computer-savvy and able to constantly begpost like I have the privilege of doing, she is stressed out of her mind and starting to sell all her possessions before she has to move to a different apartment next month and couldn't afford to set any money aside for deposit and related costs.
I can't even remember where I was going with this now after angrily typing all of that. I guess maybe that it isn't always as fucking simple and easy as some people think it is, to be a grifting beggar.
I can promise you one thing, however: I'd be willing to bet that most of us posting #MutualAidRequest after request, would really rather not be doing so.
I would much, much, much rather be giving back to the community.
But that's difficult when your annual salary raises are less than inflation. Or, as I've begun referring to them, "annual pay cuts".
But folks like my co-worker and myself didn't "apply ourselves" to get college degrees, so I guess we're getting what we deserve.
Except it shouldn't be what we deserve.
Survival shouldn't be a privilege to be "earned".
Original #begpost:
https://beige.party/@LibertyForward1/116469237814027295
Venmo: https://venmo.com/thegizmotwins
Cashapp: https://cash.app/$thegizmotwins
PP: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/gizmo1982
GFM: https://gofund.me/12171be3 -
:stargif: 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒄𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒅: 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂 𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒏̃𝒐 𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐 :stargif:
El 11 de mayo de 1930, una joven escocesa de 17 años llegó a Nueva York tras cruzar el Atlántico con apenas 50 dólares en el bolsillo.
Se llamaba Mary Anne MacLeod Trump, y venía de uno de esos lugares donde el viento parece más fuerte que las personas: la isla de Lewis, en las Hébridas Exteriores.Su pueblo, Tong, no tenía nada que ver con la idea de “oportunidad”.
Allí la vida era dura, casi de supervivencia: pesca, turba, clima extremo y poco margen para el futuro.
En su casa se hablaba gaélico escocés, y el inglés era casi una segunda realidad.
Su padre era pescador y trabajador de la turba.
No había lujos, ni red de seguridad, ni promesas.Lo de “llegó sin zapatos” se ha convertido en parte de la leyenda.
Puede que no sea literal al 100%, pero sí refleja bien su situación: pobreza real, absoluta, de esas que no se maquillan.
Lo cierto es que no llegó completamente sola; tenía hermanas en Nueva York, lo que le dio un punto de apoyo básico para empezar a trabajar como empleada doméstica.Y así empezó su vida en América: casas ajenas, trabajo constante, jornadas largas.
Sin glamour, sin atajos.
Solo adaptación.Con el tiempo, su destino dio un giro cuando conoció a Fred Trump, un joven empresario de Queens que empezaba a construir su camino en el negocio inmobiliario.
Se casaron en 1936.
A partir de ahí, la historia cambia de escenario: crecimiento económico, expansión urbana en Nueva York y ascenso social progresivo.Tuvieron cinco hijos, entre ellos Donald Trump.
Pero reducir su vida a “madre de…” sería quedarse corto.
Mary Anne tenía un carácter muy marcado.
En casa del matrimonio Trump convivían dos mundos: el de Fred, centrado, metódico, casi austero; y el de ella, más social, más inclinada al brillo, a la presencia pública, a cierto gusto por el estatus.Hay una anécdota que siempre se menciona porque define bien su forma de ver la vida: incluso siendo millonaria, seguía encargándose personalmente de recoger las monedas de las lavanderías de los edificios familiares.
Lo hacía ella, en su Rolls Royce.
No por necesidad económica, sino por una mentalidad muy arraigada: el dinero no se desprecia, se controla.Ese detalle se ha interpretado muchas veces como una especie de herencia emocional que influyó en su hijo: la idea de que todo cuenta, de que nada es pequeño cuando se trata de valor.
También hay rasgos más personales que suelen aparecer en su biografía.
Se dice que su estilo —especialmente su peinado voluminoso y muy trabajado— influyó en la imagen pública de Donald Trump.
No como copia directa, pero sí como referencia visual dentro del entorno familiar.En lo social, Mary Anne era mucho más que discreta. Le gustaban los eventos, las ceremonias, la vida pública entendida como representación.
Admiraba incluso a la realeza británica, especialmente a la Reina Isabel II.
Era una mezcla curiosa: origen humilde, pero fascinación por el protocolo y el mundo de arriba.Y, sin embargo, nunca cortó del todo el hilo con su origen.
A pesar de vivir en una casa grande en Jamaica Estates, en Nueva York, regresaba casi todos los veranos a la isla de Lewis.
Volvía a su gente, a su idioma, a ese paisaje duro que la había formado.En 1942 se convirtió en ciudadana estadounidense.
Vivió una vida larga, de 88 años, falleciendo en el año 2000, poco después de su marido.Su historia no es solo la de una emigrante que “triunfa”.
Es más compleja: es la de alguien que se mueve entre dos mundos sin abandonar del todo ninguno.
Entre la escasez aprendida y la abundancia conseguida.
Y entre la discreción del origen y el peso de un apellido que acabaría siendo mundialmente conocido.▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
#historiareal #maryannemacleod #escocia #sueñoamericano #inmigración #nuevayork #biografias #historiasreales #ecosdelpasado #familiasfamosas
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:stargif: 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑴𝒄𝑳𝒆𝒐𝒅: 𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒐 𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂 𝒂𝒍 𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒏̃𝒐 𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐 :stargif:
El 11 de mayo de 1930, una joven escocesa de 17 años llegó a Nueva York tras cruzar el Atlántico con apenas 50 dólares en el bolsillo.
Se llamaba Mary Anne MacLeod Trump, y venía de uno de esos lugares donde el viento parece más fuerte que las personas: la isla de Lewis, en las Hébridas Exteriores.Su pueblo, Tong, no tenía nada que ver con la idea de “oportunidad”.
Allí la vida era dura, casi de supervivencia: pesca, turba, clima extremo y poco margen para el futuro.
En su casa se hablaba gaélico escocés, y el inglés era casi una segunda realidad.
Su padre era pescador y trabajador de la turba.
No había lujos, ni red de seguridad, ni promesas.Lo de “llegó sin zapatos” se ha convertido en parte de la leyenda.
Puede que no sea literal al 100%, pero sí refleja bien su situación: pobreza real, absoluta, de esas que no se maquillan.
Lo cierto es que no llegó completamente sola; tenía hermanas en Nueva York, lo que le dio un punto de apoyo básico para empezar a trabajar como empleada doméstica.Y así empezó su vida en América: casas ajenas, trabajo constante, jornadas largas.
Sin glamour, sin atajos.
Solo adaptación.Con el tiempo, su destino dio un giro cuando conoció a Fred Trump, un joven empresario de Queens que empezaba a construir su camino en el negocio inmobiliario.
Se casaron en 1936.
A partir de ahí, la historia cambia de escenario: crecimiento económico, expansión urbana en Nueva York y ascenso social progresivo.Tuvieron cinco hijos, entre ellos Donald Trump.
Pero reducir su vida a “madre de…” sería quedarse corto.
Mary Anne tenía un carácter muy marcado.
En casa del matrimonio Trump convivían dos mundos: el de Fred, centrado, metódico, casi austero; y el de ella, más social, más inclinada al brillo, a la presencia pública, a cierto gusto por el estatus.Hay una anécdota que siempre se menciona porque define bien su forma de ver la vida: incluso siendo millonaria, seguía encargándose personalmente de recoger las monedas de las lavanderías de los edificios familiares.
Lo hacía ella, en su Rolls Royce.
No por necesidad económica, sino por una mentalidad muy arraigada: el dinero no se desprecia, se controla.Ese detalle se ha interpretado muchas veces como una especie de herencia emocional que influyó en su hijo: la idea de que todo cuenta, de que nada es pequeño cuando se trata de valor.
También hay rasgos más personales que suelen aparecer en su biografía.
Se dice que su estilo —especialmente su peinado voluminoso y muy trabajado— influyó en la imagen pública de Donald Trump.
No como copia directa, pero sí como referencia visual dentro del entorno familiar.En lo social, Mary Anne era mucho más que discreta. Le gustaban los eventos, las ceremonias, la vida pública entendida como representación.
Admiraba incluso a la realeza británica, especialmente a la Reina Isabel II.
Era una mezcla curiosa: origen humilde, pero fascinación por el protocolo y el mundo de arriba.Y, sin embargo, nunca cortó del todo el hilo con su origen.
A pesar de vivir en una casa grande en Jamaica Estates, en Nueva York, regresaba casi todos los veranos a la isla de Lewis.
Volvía a su gente, a su idioma, a ese paisaje duro que la había formado.En 1942 se convirtió en ciudadana estadounidense.
Vivió una vida larga, de 88 años, falleciendo en el año 2000, poco después de su marido.Su historia no es solo la de una emigrante que “triunfa”.
Es más compleja: es la de alguien que se mueve entre dos mundos sin abandonar del todo ninguno.
Entre la escasez aprendida y la abundancia conseguida.
Y entre la discreción del origen y el peso de un apellido que acabaría siendo mundialmente conocido.▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
#historiareal #maryannemacleod #escocia #sueñoamericano #inmigración #nuevayork #biografias #historiasreales #ecosdelpasado #familiasfamosas
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𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔
Se comió un avión.
Y no es una metáfora.Michel Lotito nació en Francia en 1950 y desde joven empezó a hacer algo que no encajaba en ningún sitio: comía cosas que no eran comida.
No fue un truco puntual ni una excentricidad de feria.
Fue constante.
Metal, vidrio, goma… lo que para cualquiera sería peligroso, para él se convirtió en rutina.Con el tiempo dejó de ser una rareza local y se convirtió en espectáculo.
Bicicletas, carritos de supermercado, televisores, lámparas, incluso un ataúd.
Pero lo que terminó de fijar su nombre fue el avión: un Cessna 150 que fue consumiendo poco a poco entre 1978 y 1980.
No de golpe, claro.
Lo cortaba en piezas pequeñas, lo trituraba lo justo y lo ingería durante meses.De ahí el apodo: “Monsieur Mangetout”.
El hombre que se come todo.Lo más extraño no era solo lo que hacía, sino cómo podía hacerlo.
Según los médicos que lo estudiaron, tenía un revestimiento estomacal más grueso de lo normal, lo que le protegía parcialmente de cortes y perforaciones.
También producía jugos gástricos especialmente potentes.
Aun así, no era invulnerable.
Comer metal no es seguro en ningún caso.
Simplemente, su cuerpo resistía más de lo que parecía posible.Tenía su propio “método”.
Cortaba los objetos en fragmentos manejables, los acompañaba con agua y aceite mineral para facilitar el paso, y seguía.
Decía que lo más difícil no era el metal, sino cosas blandas como el plátano o el huevo duro.
Eso sí que le resultaba incómodo.
Ahí es donde su historia deja de ser solo extraña y pasa a ser directamente absurda.También hay anécdotas que ayudan a entender el personaje.
Una vez, al romperse un vaso por accidente, en lugar de tirarlo… se lo comió.
Otra, durante una actuación, alguien del público dudó de que fuera real.
Lotito le pidió un objeto personal y empezó a comérselo delante de todos, sin dramatismo, como si fuera lo más normal del mundo.No era un científico ni un artista en el sentido clásico.
Tampoco pretendía dar lecciones.
Simplemente encontró una forma de vivir (y ganarse la vida) haciendo algo que nadie más podía hacer sin consecuencias graves.
Su fama no venía de crear algo nuevo, sino de empujar un límite físico hasta donde casi nadie se atrevería a mirar.Murió en 2007 por causas naturales.
No por lo que comía.Y eso es lo que termina de descolocar.
Porque toda su vida parece construida sobre una contradicción: hacer algo claramente peligroso… y salir adelante.No dejó una obra, ni un invento, ni un legado fácil de explicar.
Pero dejó una historia que incomoda un poco, porque obliga a admitir que el cuerpo humano, a veces, no sigue las reglas que creemos entender.▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
#historiareal #curiosidades #michellotito #monsieurmangetout #historiasreales #cuerpohumano #insolito #sigloxx #ecosdelpasado
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𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔
Se comió un avión.
Y no es una metáfora.Michel Lotito nació en Francia en 1950 y desde joven empezó a hacer algo que no encajaba en ningún sitio: comía cosas que no eran comida.
No fue un truco puntual ni una excentricidad de feria.
Fue constante.
Metal, vidrio, goma… lo que para cualquiera sería peligroso, para él se convirtió en rutina.Con el tiempo dejó de ser una rareza local y se convirtió en espectáculo.
Bicicletas, carritos de supermercado, televisores, lámparas, incluso un ataúd.
Pero lo que terminó de fijar su nombre fue el avión: un Cessna 150 que fue consumiendo poco a poco entre 1978 y 1980.
No de golpe, claro.
Lo cortaba en piezas pequeñas, lo trituraba lo justo y lo ingería durante meses.De ahí el apodo: “Monsieur Mangetout”.
El hombre que se come todo.Lo más extraño no era solo lo que hacía, sino cómo podía hacerlo.
Según los médicos que lo estudiaron, tenía un revestimiento estomacal más grueso de lo normal, lo que le protegía parcialmente de cortes y perforaciones.
También producía jugos gástricos especialmente potentes.
Aun así, no era invulnerable.
Comer metal no es seguro en ningún caso.
Simplemente, su cuerpo resistía más de lo que parecía posible.Tenía su propio “método”.
Cortaba los objetos en fragmentos manejables, los acompañaba con agua y aceite mineral para facilitar el paso, y seguía.
Decía que lo más difícil no era el metal, sino cosas blandas como el plátano o el huevo duro.
Eso sí que le resultaba incómodo.
Ahí es donde su historia deja de ser solo extraña y pasa a ser directamente absurda.También hay anécdotas que ayudan a entender el personaje.
Una vez, al romperse un vaso por accidente, en lugar de tirarlo… se lo comió.
Otra, durante una actuación, alguien del público dudó de que fuera real.
Lotito le pidió un objeto personal y empezó a comérselo delante de todos, sin dramatismo, como si fuera lo más normal del mundo.No era un científico ni un artista en el sentido clásico.
Tampoco pretendía dar lecciones.
Simplemente encontró una forma de vivir (y ganarse la vida) haciendo algo que nadie más podía hacer sin consecuencias graves.
Su fama no venía de crear algo nuevo, sino de empujar un límite físico hasta donde casi nadie se atrevería a mirar.Murió en 2007 por causas naturales.
No por lo que comía.Y eso es lo que termina de descolocar.
Porque toda su vida parece construida sobre una contradicción: hacer algo claramente peligroso… y salir adelante.No dejó una obra, ni un invento, ni un legado fácil de explicar.
Pero dejó una historia que incomoda un poco, porque obliga a admitir que el cuerpo humano, a veces, no sigue las reglas que creemos entender.▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
#historiareal #curiosidades #michellotito #monsieurmangetout #historiasreales #cuerpohumano #insolito #sigloxx #ecosdelpasado
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𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔
Se comió un avión.
Y no es una metáfora.Michel Lotito nació en Francia en 1950 y desde joven empezó a hacer algo que no encajaba en ningún sitio: comía cosas que no eran comida.
No fue un truco puntual ni una excentricidad de feria.
Fue constante.
Metal, vidrio, goma… lo que para cualquiera sería peligroso, para él se convirtió en rutina.Con el tiempo dejó de ser una rareza local y se convirtió en espectáculo.
Bicicletas, carritos de supermercado, televisores, lámparas, incluso un ataúd.
Pero lo que terminó de fijar su nombre fue el avión: un Cessna 150 que fue consumiendo poco a poco entre 1978 y 1980.
No de golpe, claro.
Lo cortaba en piezas pequeñas, lo trituraba lo justo y lo ingería durante meses.De ahí el apodo: “Monsieur Mangetout”.
El hombre que se come todo.Lo más extraño no era solo lo que hacía, sino cómo podía hacerlo.
Según los médicos que lo estudiaron, tenía un revestimiento estomacal más grueso de lo normal, lo que le protegía parcialmente de cortes y perforaciones.
También producía jugos gástricos especialmente potentes.
Aun así, no era invulnerable.
Comer metal no es seguro en ningún caso.
Simplemente, su cuerpo resistía más de lo que parecía posible.Tenía su propio “método”.
Cortaba los objetos en fragmentos manejables, los acompañaba con agua y aceite mineral para facilitar el paso, y seguía.
Decía que lo más difícil no era el metal, sino cosas blandas como el plátano o el huevo duro.
Eso sí que le resultaba incómodo.
Ahí es donde su historia deja de ser solo extraña y pasa a ser directamente absurda.También hay anécdotas que ayudan a entender el personaje.
Una vez, al romperse un vaso por accidente, en lugar de tirarlo… se lo comió.
Otra, durante una actuación, alguien del público dudó de que fuera real.
Lotito le pidió un objeto personal y empezó a comérselo delante de todos, sin dramatismo, como si fuera lo más normal del mundo.No era un científico ni un artista en el sentido clásico.
Tampoco pretendía dar lecciones.
Simplemente encontró una forma de vivir (y ganarse la vida) haciendo algo que nadie más podía hacer sin consecuencias graves.
Su fama no venía de crear algo nuevo, sino de empujar un límite físico hasta donde casi nadie se atrevería a mirar.Murió en 2007 por causas naturales.
No por lo que comía.Y eso es lo que termina de descolocar.
Porque toda su vida parece construida sobre una contradicción: hacer algo claramente peligroso… y salir adelante.No dejó una obra, ni un invento, ni un legado fácil de explicar.
Pero dejó una historia que incomoda un poco, porque obliga a admitir que el cuerpo humano, a veces, no sigue las reglas que creemos entender.▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣
#historiareal #curiosidades #michellotito #monsieurmangetout #historiasreales #cuerpohumano #insolito #sigloxx #ecosdelpasado
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CW: #MutualAid Fundraiser Update #2 and general old man yelling at clouds
I don't even know what to write at this point.
Every month I tell myself, "Okay, this is the month we get back on track. I'm going to go get a second job. We're going to do this on our own for once, goddammit."
Yet my job takes just enough of a physical and emotional toll that I can't seem to function. I can't get focused. I can't get the apartment cleaned up or get everything organized, I can't seem to summon the willpower to go through the mind-numbingly asinine job application process to some other retail job that's probably even more demeaning than the one I currently hold.
So every month we only make rent thanks to charity. The only reason we're not homeless is because we're receiving mutual aid. I'm not exaggerating. We would absolutely be on the streets without everyone's help on the Fedi.
This has been going on for two years now.
It seems reasonable to ask, "Well, why don't you apply for government assistance? Why don't you reach out to local charities? Why don't you handle your money better and quit relying on strangers?"
Let me offer brief summary of the circumstances of someone I know to help answer those questions:
A co-worker of mine - a single mother with multiple health problems, has needed to resort to payday loans for enough money to eat.
She makes *just* enough money to not qualify for much public assistance, and struggles with tech literacy so it's a nightmare for her trying to navigate all the hoops one must jump through.
She reached out to the local clergy of the predominant religious faith in the area. It's one of the most wealthy religious institutions in the world, commanding hundreds of *billions* in assets (thanks to a whistleblower for it to even be publicly known), and she is a member of this church.
They made her give them copies of her paystubs and her bank account statements, detailed financial information of her (just barely turned) adult son who barely makes anything working at a movie theater and that of her brother (also struggling financially, and will only be their roommate until the end of their lease sometime early summer), and still turned her down. They offered her a couple of vouchers for their church-owned food pantry, most of which she's unable to use due to food allergies.
She had to beg them, sobbing, until they finally relented and agreed to cover one month of rent for her and her son (I guess her brother will magically find his portion?) and insisted that this was the last help she would receive from them.
It's a perfect (yes, albeit anecdotal) example of why #MutualAid is crucial: people are falling through the cracks because the institutions we're supposed to be able to rely upon are failing to protect us. Even one of the most wealthy non-profit entities on the planet refuse to help even their own members without forcing them to undergo an embarrassing and demeaning process to prove their worthiness to receive help.
If anyone deserves help, it's her. She's a sweet, good-natured soul just trying to survive. Yet because she isn't computer-savvy and able to constantly begpost like I have the privilege of doing, she is stressed out of her mind and starting to sell all her possessions before she has to move to a different apartment next month and couldn't afford to set any money aside for deposit and related costs.
I can't even remember where I was going with this now after angrily typing all of that. I guess maybe that it isn't always as fucking simple and easy as some people think it is, to be a grifting beggar.
I can promise you one thing, however: I'd be willing to bet that most of us posting #MutualAidRequest after request, would really rather not be doing so.
I would much, much, much rather be giving back to the community.
But that's difficult when your annual salary raises are less than inflation. Or, as I've begun referring to them, "annual pay cuts".
But folks like my co-worker and myself didn't "apply ourselves" to get college degrees, so I guess we're getting what we deserve.
Except it shouldn't be what we deserve.
Survival shouldn't be a privilege to be "earned".
Original #begpost:
https://beige.party/@LibertyForward1/116469237814027295
Venmo: https://venmo.com/thegizmotwins
Cashapp: https://cash.app/$thegizmotwins
PP: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/gizmo1982
GFM: https://gofund.me/12171be3