Do NOT harm yourself. That doesn’t help, and asking you to do so doesn’t help.
Instead? Tell your parents. Tell your family, tell your friends, your teachers, your employers, EVERYONE you know and interact with, that you support and even romanticize abusive content. Tell them that you think it’s harmless.
Well?
We’re waiting.
I do tell a lot of people. My mom, for example. She’s a writer too and she knows that I enjoy writing dark stories. I said people were mad at me on the internet over a ship and she immediately guessed which (very problematic) ship it was and was shocked that people had told me to die over something so ridiculous. I recently told my therapist that I write and enjoy darkfic sometimes, specifically mentioning the sort of sexual content they involve. His first impulse was to worry that I might feel guilty about my harmless interest. I told my previous therapist that I get off to violent fictional media and she said it was fine because she knew I’d never hurt a fly in real life. I’ve told my coworkers about the sort of movies I like (horror) and they didn’t care at all. Turns out people who work at libraries know how fiction works. My childhood best friend has known I’m a sadist for as long as I can remember and it never seemed to bother her. I still have a reputation as a very polite and helpful person, and my friends feel comfortable telling me secrets and asking for advice.
You know what always shocks people? When I tell them about the hate I’ve recieved online for my ships. My mom regularly says she’s proud of me for standing up for myself and others online, and my therapist considers it a very positive act. I don’t tell EVERYONE I interact with about my problematic ships (hi I’d like a number 1 combo with cheese also I think Thor and Loki should kiss), but I don’t hide it at all. The worst I’ve ever gotten is people being mildly surprised that someone as silly and positive as me loves horror.
Tell your family, tell your friends, your teachers, your employers, EVERYONE you know and interact with
“and that’s all 300 pairs of fictional characters I want to kiss each other. any questions?”
“ma’am this is a wal-mart”
Told my mom I wanted to rip open kylo rens abdominal cavity and she just shrugged so op idk what you’re expecting to happen here
“Hey young people, i want you to initiate sexually explicit conversations with lots of grown ups you barely know”
NICE TRY JARED FROM SUBWAY
I feel like antis might not know what kind of things get written about in published books.
Like if you think ya mom hasn’t read books like flowers in the attic (probably still the English-speaking world’s most popular incest book) or the world according to Garp (in which a woman gets pregnant by raping a disabled man and later a different woman bites off a dude’s cock) or never watched a soap or a telenovela in her life and is going to be shocked by these things……….I mean even if you’re like “no my mom reads only respected works of literature and has never heard of television” or something have I got news for you about those as well the absolute most shocking sexual abuse stuff I have ever read was in poetry and I felt like my teeth had been punched down my throat, reading it, it was amazing, yes it was even more shocking than The Bluest Eye (go ask your lit-reading mom what that is, it is a very important book you should know about). Also I guarantee you even if your mom has literally only read the Bible in her entire life you know there’s incest-rape in that, right, it’s only in one of the most famous bits (it comes after the attempted gang rape of the angels, the dude offering his daughters up for gang rape instead, and then his wife getting turned into salt, so I guess him getting raped by his own daughters later gets left out of the tale a lot).
People understand about literature. They comprehend fiction. They can distinguish between fantasy and what people do in reality. They really do, and can, without too much trouble.
Imagine what the world would be like if everybody did this — if it was totally normal for my boss to walk up to me and tell me what fictional relationships she considered to be tolerable reading material in the interests of transparency. I’m not saying it would do anything, I just think it would be really funny. Even if my opinions about the relationships of fictional characters were likely to strike fear and horror into the heart of everyone who’s ever met me, I guarantee people would also be weirded out if you went around sweetly reciting the list of your wholesomest cartoon character ships and how you only read about the purest, most innocuous content. Nobody actually gives a shit.
“Mom? I have something really important to tell you, because somebody on the Internet said so. Sometimes I write fanfiction where vampires kiss. Sometimes I write weepy self indulgent screeds about bad stuff happening to my fictional favorite characters. Sometimes I read about butt stuff. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” My mom, surrounded by Laurel K. Hamilton and Anne Rice first editions while watching a TV drama about age difference arranged marriage cousincest, shakes her head solemnly and hangs up the phone. I’m dead to her.
…I’ll make sure to include a transcript of my Ao3 profile with my CV. Yes I know I wrote that good paper on the Cult of Reason and also have done groundbreaking work in translating Middle English poetry but… I have to admit I’ve written several fics that involve an age gap of 20+ years… And I’ve written a lot of incest with first cousins… I’m not proud of my sin…
Why is it that your interests and work has to be the business of everyone else and their arbitrary rules? Whatever happened to ykinmk? Do people never go outside?
I’m disconnected enough from fandom these days that I forget about purity culture for months on end and then I get a reminder that somehow the anti thing is still chugging along, and I have a good laugh because my one colleague who is actually a legit world-famous writer made her name writing Gothic drama about paedophiliac incest and cat people.
hey everyone I have a GREAT idea
oh my god, op
like, the most fucked up movie I’ve ever seen in my life (and funny enough, one of my favourites) is The Night Porter – and guess who recommended that to me?
yeah. my mom. the same person who told me when I was 14 or 15: “Please don’t have sex this young, but if you must, here is some cash for condoms, and if you ever think you might be pregnant, tell me, I promise I won’t be mad, we’ll take care of it.”
I’m sorry that you had a puritanic upbringing and you think mentioning smth sexual and/or – gasp! – illegal to your parents or to your friends is just the awfulest thing ever, but luckily, that’s not the norm.
Okay, so I don’t generally think or write about the particular thing that has this generation’s antis so riled, but
…people who want to know what I think about can buy my books? They can write reviews of what they think about them? Hell, they can pirate them if they’re douchebags who don’t like being minimally decent to smalltime queer authors?
I’m not sure what public announcements above and beyond that would do.
This is what I was talking about re: antis not reading enough non-fanfic to know what is really in books, and why most people read what they read.
Hell, even “respected works of literature?” The year that the Communications Decency Act was a thing, my ability to buy the books I needed for AP English class was in serious danger for a minute there. Like, Beloved, anyone? The Once and Future King? Tess of the D’Urbervilles? The Prince of Tides? Like Water for Chocolate?
Elvis will be our illustration of feather development.
Peeps hatch covered in chick down, which is actually going to end up being the tip of each of their juvenile feathers.
You see the first hints of feathers at coming in at 6 days. Look really closely at his nubby little wing tips.
Pins are highly vascularized tissue wrapped in a protein sheath.
Here he is at day later at 1 week old, and you can more clearly see the yellow down tipping each shaft.
At 10 days, the barbs at the tips of the feather have formed fully. The blood vessels shrink away, and the sheath at the tip of the shaft starts to dry up in preparation to flake off.
One day later (11 days), you can already see the tips of the feathers revealed as the dead portion of the protein sheath dries up and flakes off.
A day later (12 days), you can see more feather, but the shaft is not fully frown in yet, by any means.
13 days, and the shafts are still growing in, with more of the sheath drying up to be preened off.
14 days.
15 days
16 days.
Here he is at 3 weeks and those same feathers still aren’t all the way in yet, but you can still see some of the down on his wing shield.
It starts getting brittle about now, and in the act of preening off the sheath, the down gets sheared off of the tips of the feathers.
Feathers are almost fully grown in at 4 weeks, and you can see he’s preened off most of the down.
There is not much difference in length between 4 and 5 week old feathers, but the down is fully preened off by now.
Fun fact: not all peeps have down! It’s dependent on breed.
Down length actually depends on the color, rather than the breed.
These most recent COF, for example:
This one will be Blue.
This one is gonna be brown. Dilute colors usually have less down.
This Ash Red from 2015 is even more downy. ^v^
I had a nasty little baldy
Thank you!
I haven’t had any of the right sort of dilutes to throw completely bald peeps.
Recessive yellow?
Yes yellow and red… so even though the babies both were mainly white the fluff all over depends on what colour they are?
Yep!
The more dilutes, the less down, generally speaking, both in pigeons and ringneck doves.
Just for once I’d like to tell the gate agents and flight attendants that my folding wheelchair is going into the onboard closet and not have them tell me there’s “no room”. Bitch that’s a wheelchair closet, not a “your bags” closet. Move your damn bags where they belong.
Ok, so according to my friendly aviation expert, this is a Big Fucking Deal. In fact, if an airline argues with you about putting your wheelchair in the wheelchair closet or even suggests there may not be room, unless there is already anotherpassenger’swheelchair in that closet, they have violatedfederallaw.
CFR Title 14, Chapter II, Subchapter D, Part 382, Subpart E, Section 382.67, Subsection (e)
“As a carrier, you must never request or suggest that a passenger not stow his or her wheelchair in the cabin to accommodate other passengers (e.g., informing a passenger that stowing his or her wheelchair in the cabin will require other passengers to be removed from the flight), or for any other non-safety related reason (e.g., that it is easier for the carrier if the wheelchair is stowed in the cargo compartment).”
This is hugely important because it means that if this happens to you, you should report their asses to the DOT. Why? Because these statistics are published every year for every airline, and the airline gets a huge ass fine for every violation. If we want to see change, we need to make airlines literally pay every time they treat us this way.
@annieelainey you should share this with your followers! This is important info!!
To my mutuals on wheels, print out the law before you fly and whip it out at the gate if they don’t accomodate your wheels.
Thanks a lot for posting this, bro! Flying while crippled is already difficult enough without people pulling this kind of shit. Also, make sure that if there is a piece of your wheelchair or something important missing off of it, that you make a big fucking deal out of it! I’ve had pieces fall off of my wheelchair and nearly lost a decoration I had on it that meant a lot to me because people were careless with my chair. Don’t let them mistreat your wheelchair.
Non-wheelchair folks:
Now that you know, speak up.
You never know when you’re going to see someone who needs an ally.
I was actually looking for this post the other day for someone who was worried about flying with their chair. I can’t remember your username, but here! this is the thing I was talking about!
Former Alaska customer service rep/trainer here:
If you have an electric chair, confirm that they’re NOT going to carry it down the jetway stairs.
They need to drive it to the elevator (this means they might need a 10second tutorial on how to turn it on). But it takes longer to get someone who has access to drive it to the elevator and instead, the baggage crew invariably tries “save time” and manhandle it down those steep, sharp stairs at the back of the jetway and this is how shit gets busted-up and outright broken. Remind the gate agent that your chair needs to go to the elevator to get down to the tarmac.
Quick tutorial: anymore, the baggage crew almost never works directly for the airline. They’re pretty much all contract companies. Meaning, they don’t report to the same people that your gate agents do. They don’t get the same training and the job is so hard that an enormous number of people quit during the week of initial training. I seldom met a ground crew member who actually knew they weren’t supposed to use the stairs.
So it is crucial that the *gate agent* knows and is enforcing the loading policy.
There is little to no contact between the gate agents and the baggage handlers unless we specifically run them down to tell them something (we couldn’t just call them, we had to go physically find them) and it can be difficult to find someone senior enough to help once boarding has begun, so I recommend touching base with your gate agent about it before boarding begins, when possible.
At least on Alaska, it was expressly forbidden for baggage handlers to carry electric wheelchairs down the stairs and it still happened all the goddamn time. If you have to, remind the gate agent that the airline is 100% liable for any damage done to a mobility device. This is true (and also an enormous pain in the ass for you) and sometimes may strike fear into the hearts of a reluctant (read: shitty) agent.
If they cannot/will not confirm, or just seem to deflect or dodge the question, don’t get out of your chair. Sit right there in the bottom of the jetway and tell them that you’ll wait until the crew supervisor arrives with the elevator key (this was always this issue, most of the ground crew didn’t have access so they needed a crew supervisor or an actual airline manager) to surrender your chair. They will probably continue boarding around you, that’s fine–if they did not build enough time into the schedule to properly load the aircraft, that’s their fault, not yours.
It deeply angers me that you have to be so knowledgeable about every tiny damn policy just to do something as simple as board a fucking plane. The only other insight I can give is that after safety, the airlines’ next biggest concern is being on-time so if you’re not being heard or helped:
Make. Them. Wait.
Agents deal with distressed people all day. Getting screamed at or cried on can happen dozens of times a day (and for most people, think 10-12 hour days). Some agents get hardened to passengers’ distress as a coping mechanism (or just because they suck, that’s true sometimes, too). But they all have a manager breathing down their neck to push planes on time. Very few non-safety problems will get addressed as quickly and concisely as one that is threatening to delay a departure.
I think I’ve reblogged this post in past but new info has been added
Female figurine from the Hohle Fels cave near Stuttgart, about 35,000 years old. Interpreted as a pornographic pin-up.
“The Earliest Pornography” says Science Now, describing the 35,000 year old ivory figurine that’s been dug up in a cave near Stuttgart. The tiny statuette is of a female with exaggerated breasts and vulva. According to Paul Mellars, one of the archaeologist twits who commented on the find for Nature, this makes the figurine “pornographic.” Nature is even titling its article, “Prehistoric Pin Up.” It’s the Venus of Willendorf double standard all over again. Ancient figures of naked pregnant women are interpreted by smirking male archaeologists as pornography, while equally sexualized images of men are assumed to depict gods or shamans. Or even hunters or warriors. Funny, huh?
Consider: phallic images from the Paleolithic are at least 28,000 years old. Neolithic cultures all over the world seemed to have a thing for sculptures with enormous erect phalluses. Ancient civilizations were awash in images of male genitalia, from the Indian lingam to the Egyptian benben to the Greek herm. The Romans even painted phalluses on their doors and wore phallic charms around their necks.
Ithyphallic figure from Lascaux, about 17,000 years old. Interpreted as a shaman.
But nobody ever interprets this ancient phallic imagery as pornography. Instead, it’s understood to indicate reverence for male sexual potency. No one, for example, has ever suggested that the Lascaux cave dude was a pin-up; he’s assumed to be a shaman. The ithyphallic figurines from the Neolithic — and there are many — are interpreted as gods. And everyone knows that the phalluses of ancient India and Egypt and Greece and Rome represented awesome divine powers of fertility and protection. Yet an ancient figurine of a nude woman — a life-giving woman, with her vulva ready to bring forth a new human being, and her milk-filled breasts ready to nourish that being — is interpreted as pornography. Just something for a man to whack off to. It’s not as if there’s no other context in which to interpret the figure. After all, the European Paleolithic is chock full of pregnant-looking female statuettes that are quite similar to this one. By the time we get to the Neolithic, the naked pregnant female is enthroned with lions at her feet, and it’s clear that people are worshipping some kind of female god.
Yet in the Science Now article, the archaeologist who found the figurine is talking about pornographic pin-ups: “I showed it to a male colleague, and his response was, ‘Nothing’s changed in 40,000 years.’” That sentence needs to be bronzed and hung up on a plaque somewhere, because you couldn’t ask for a better demonstration of the classic fallacy of reading the present into the past. The archaeologist assumes the artist who created the figurine was male; why? He assumes the motive was lust; why? Because that’s all he knows. To his mind, the image of a naked woman with big breasts and exposed vulva can only mean one thing: porn! Porn made by men, for men! And so he assumes, without questioning his assumptions, that the image must have meant the same thing 35,000 years ago. No other mental categories for “naked woman” are available to him. His mind is a closed box. This has been the central flaw of anthropology for as long there’s been anthropology. And even before: the English invaders of North America thought the Iroquois chiefs had concubines who accompanied them everywhere, because they had no other mental categories to account for well-dressed, important-looking women sitting in a council house. It’s the same fallacy that bedevils archaeologists who dig up male skeletons with fancy beads and conclude that the society was male dominant (because powerful people wear jewelry!), and at another site dig up female skeletons with fancy beads and conclude that this society, too, was male dominant (because women have to dress up as sex objects and trophy wives!). Male dominance is all they can imagine. And so no matter what they dig up, they interpret it to fit their mental model. It’s the fallacy that also drives evolutionary psychology, the central premise of which is that human beings in the African Pleistocene had exactly the same values, beliefs, prejudices, power struggles, goals, and needs as the middle-class white professors and students in a graduate psychology lab in modern-day Santa Barbara, California. And that these same factors are universal and unchanged and true for all time.
Hohle Fels phallus, about 28,000 years old. Interpreted as a symbolic object and …flint knapper. Yes.
That’s not science; it’s circular, self-serving propaganda. This little figurine from Hohle Fels, for example, is going to be used as “proof” that pornography is ancient and natural. I guarantee it. Having been interpreted by pornsick male archaeologists as pornography because that’s all they know, the statuette will now be trotted out by every every psycho and male supremacist on the planet as “proof” that pornography is eternal, that male dominance is how it’s supposed to be, and that feminists are crazy so shut the fuck up. Look for it in Steven Pinker’s next book. ***
P.S. My own completely speculative guess on the figurine is that it might be connected to childbirth rituals. Notice the engraved marks and slashes; that’s a motif that continues for thousands of years on these little female figurines. No one knows what they mean, but they meant something. They’re not just random cut marks. Someone put a great deal of work into this sculpture. Given that childbirth was incredibly risky for Paleolithic women, they must have prayed their hearts out for help and protection in that time. I can imagine an elder female shaman or artist carving this potent little figure, and propping it up somewhere as a focus for those prayers.
On the other hand, it is possible that it has nothing to do with childbearing or sexual behavior at all. The breasts and vulva may simply indicate who the figure is: the female god. Think of how Christ is always depicted with a beard, which is a male sexual characteristic, even though Christ isn’t about male sexuality. The beard is just a marker. Or, given the figurine’s exaggerated breasts, it may have something to do with sustenance: milk, food, nourishment.
The notion that some dude carved this thing to whack off to — when he was surrounded by women who probably weren’t wearing much in the way of clothes anyway — is laughable.
#reclusiveleftist #women’s history #porn #white men are stupid
There was a post doing the rounds on tumblr a while back that I wish I could find, but most of it seemed to be taken from this study by LeRoy McDermott, Comparing Modern Bodies with Prehistoric Artifacts.
When looked at from above, as a woman observes herself, the breasts of PKG-style figurines assume the natural proportions of the average modern woman of childbearing age. For example, the dimensions of the breasts of the off-illustrated Venus of Willendorf are comparable to those of a 26-year-old mother-to-be with a 34C bust (see fig. 5). When foreshortened from above, even the apparent hypertrophic dimensions of the Venus of Lespugue and the best-preserved figurine from Dolní Vestonice enter into a reasonably normal, albeit buxom, range.
McDermott goes on to theorise that the reason most of these hyper-female statues are missing a head and hands is that the head, obviously, can’t be viewed by the sculptor without access to a reflection of some kind. As the hands are in a constant state of motion making the figurine, it would also be difficult to have a fixed reference to work from.
The whole thing reminds me of that oft-quoted Sandi Toksvig article:
When I was a student at Cambridge I remember an anthropology professor holding up a picture of a bone with 28 incisions carved in it. “This is often considered to be man’s first attempt at a calendar” she explained. She paused as we dutifully wrote this down. “My question to you is this – what man needs to mark 28 days? I would suggest to you that this is woman’s first attempt at a calendar.”
It was a moment that changed my life. In that second I stopped to question almost everything I had been taught about the past. How often had I overlooked women’s contributions? How often had I sped past them as I learned of male achievement and men’s place in the history books?
Working (loosely) in an archeological field for this past year has made me realise how much is taken for granted about ancient culture and to what degree we patch up the remnants of the past with modern values and notions of gender and sexuality. On a daily basis I’m asked – when in character – who my husband is, whether I’m a cook, why I’m holding a spear and carry a dagger and slingshot as part of my kit. These notions of a woman’s place are so ingrained that the children on school trips to the hill fort frequently can’t believe it when I tell them our Chieftain is a woman. Even if the only Iron Age Briton they can name is Boudica, they have a hard time getting their head around it.
I know I’ve reblogged this before, but I just can’t help myself. It’s way too cool.
She said this in the context of how incels basically form parasocial death cults when they are ‘blackpilled.’ They come to believe that because they feel terrible about themselves right now, that feeling is objectively true and forever, and even the reality of how the ‘world really works’ and there’s no hope to change it, only to “LDR”. Which is, ‘lie down and rot’, a form of suicide baiting. What’s happened here is that otherwise genuine feelings of pain or insecurity have been validated maybe too much and have evolved into an entire worldview centered around affirmation of pain. And once pain-as-truth becomes social capital, the way people behave changes to maximize its growth and spread.
But I have to say? I feel like I have encountered versions of the very same behavior in my own spaces, on tumblr, on facebook, etc.:
There’s definitely forms of love-bombing that surround mental illness or depression support connections that shower you with confirmation and praise only as long as you reject any steps of managing mental illness, so long as it unstoppably dominates your life. Once you question someone else’s behavior or declare that you’re seeing a therapist or something all your new parasocial friends turn against you.
I’ve seen it in supposedly feminist spaces where women that are otherwise strangers to each other talk each other into hopelessness and heightened fear of sex and fear of other people in their life, especially male figures. Sometimes not even based in a specific personal experience, but instead just this collective ‘dark truth’ of womanhood. TERFs love to do this, and segue younger people into fear of trans women this way.
I’ve seen it happen a lot within lgbt+ spaces where someone’s personal despair about dysphoria, homophobia they face, not being able to find a partner or being judged by family or strangers, or even fear of violence, enters a feedback loop with other people they don’t actually know and don’t have any interests but their own consumption in mind amplifying it, forming these insular enclaves where fear is truth and everyone else is wrong because they don’t feel as terrible about being attracted to the same sex or for being trans as they should. Meanwhile no one struggling within this structure is actually getting the support or help they need, they’re just arguing about it and building cases for, when the mythical support does fall from the sky, why they should get it first.
There’s mounds of discourse where people argue over how because that group couldn’t possibly live as terrible a reality as this group, their lived experience isn’t the order of the universe and therefore doesn’t deserve validity or attention at all. And to argue, inexperienced people fall into the trap of trying to artificially match the despair levels of their critics, or try to counter one black pill with their own black pill which will never be credible to outsiders, resulting in cringy disaster at all vectors. In the red-hot radioactive mess troll accounts prosper.
Which is not to say that all these situations are full of people as baseless as incels– some of them are living very difficult lives, but are using “masochistic epistemology“ as the internal logic of their world. And the effect of such an internal logic is extremely dark self-confirming biases in excess of what is necessary to communicate the dangers of their lives, or cope with hardship. And any similar person who goes off seeking friends who acknowledge their pain is going to find a black hole of people who’d otherwise be peers escalating that very pain in themselves and others in order to confirm it’s all real.
Natalie Wynn herself, a trans woman, struggled with the urge to go to 4chan’s /lgbt/ and wait for the most toxic and hopeless crowds there rip her appearance apart even though it made very little logical sense. The people there shared the same insecurities as her, that they don’t pass, that people will despise them, and in some way hearing those insecurities confirmed rather than denied to her felt more like ‘the real truth’ or ‘what people really think’ than it did to hear praise and encouragement. Even if what they had to say wasn’t anywhere near an objective truth.
The “pain is real” mindset is that hard to shake! It doesn’t matter if you’re smart, prepared to identify the phenomenon with philosophy education, intellectually aware that it’s bad for you. There is a self-harm impulse to ‘face reality’, but a very specific reality that confirms the bias of your pain or insecurity. The comfort zone of discomfort, in a way! It just wants you to not feel crazy for feeling those things and is willing to hurt you even more to prove you’re right about your environment or your life.
When I’m at my sickest, I feel like my pain is objectively true in a way nothing else is. The people who love me are lying or duped by my manipulative nature, the hope I had was false and I never should have tried, etc.
Online communities of a certain kind of political bent really encourage this—present the idea that there’s a way the world is, and that way is not just unfair and unjust sometimes but endlessly destructive. People on the right and the left do this.
It’s… unlivable, and breaks people.
Horrible painful things are not always inherently more true. This is very hard to truly believe when your brain tries to trick you to think otherwise, but it’s so important.
Hot fucking take, if a post is long and informative, you likely need to read all of it to make an informed contribution to the topic instead of just talking over people or dismissing them based on the first few lines of opening up a dialogue.
“Honestly I read the first few lines and this is bullshit, I—”
Oh you read the first few lines. Of a multi-thread reblog post, where others have put time and effort into trying to convey a complex issue, but y’know. You read the first few lines, and felt like you had something to say and are convinced it will be in no way irrelevant, repetitive or refutable. Okay. Great.
They read the first few lines, you guys, we’re good.
istg this is one of the biggest frustrations I run into these days. I put time and effort into laying out my perspective and my reasonings and all I get back is “who’s going to read that fucking essay, try harder”
it’s unspeakably rude! it’s a staggering lack of good faith, plain disrespect towards someone who’s trying to have an actual discussion, and I literally cannot understand why people think it’s any kind of an appropriate way to behave.
It. Drives. Me. Bonkers.
“Condense your life experiences and perspective into a soundbite so it looks on brand for quick and snappy reblogs so we can all feel woke about it.”
The same person a hot second later. “Well there’s no perspectives or proof to back this up so your point is invalid.”
*flips table*
Ok. I do genuinely understand where everyone is coming from here. I do recognise that it is exceptionally frustrating when someone is actually being lazy and genuinely can’t be bothered to read because they just want to yap their mouth off etc.
That being said.
Can we *please* be aware that people with ADHD and other processing issues exist and in those cases, because the person may have read a bit, had a thought and want to get it down, they start writing their ideas before they’ve read it completely so the thought doesn’t vanish. Furthermore, because of said processing issues a proper explanation would be ‘I haven’t read all of this, (I have ADHD and wanted to get this thought down before I forget) but (I fully intend to read the rest), anyway my thought was…’ and the bits in brackets are what doesn’t make it to the response because their processing has caused them to delete those bits from their short term memory while writing.
Also, sorry to have to say it, but if you’re more concerned about coming across eloquently and so forth, then basically you’re admitting that you’ve written a long response just to show off that you’re clever.
Fine, absolutely, someone who’s being lazy should just read it through.
However, I know for a fact that if a post is quite long, people with processing issues may find it daunting and would actually appreciate a condensed version so they can more easily follow the conversation and contribute.
Yes, I write long posts but if someone reblogged a post asking me to condense it for their understanding, I absolutely would.
If I can do that, there’s no reason you can’t and if you’re going to grumble about it, it shows that first and foremost you’re happy to shove people with processing issues under the bus in favour of being able to show off.
I apologise if this comes across as unnecessarily harsh but I think more people need to think about the ways in which they engage in actual ableism.
If you’re automatic response to ‘could you explain this’ is to accuse people of laziness, the only people you are hurting is those with processing issues. The people who are genuinely just being lazy will just strop at you and digitally storm off.
Meanwhile you will leave someone with an issue they cannot change, because it is hardwired, feeling bad about themselves and more likely to not engage with topics of interest, because they’ll be accused of laziness for being overwhelmed by the amount of text etc.
As someone with ADHD, this is not even remotely what this post is about.
It’s the venting of a personal frustration that I expend so much energy and focus trying to explain things to people, being as concise, relevant and thorough as possible, (because inevitably someone always tags on “but what about X issue! why are you being problematic and missing out X issue!”) and then some rude person comments with the lengthier version of “tl;dr” and then proceeds to talk over everyone else in the comment thread, either being needlessly repetitive because they didn’t read the comments, or just outright wrong or just plain dismissive.
Someone needs me to condense and clarify, I will. I absolutely will. But the way to get me to do that is not to say “I didn’t read all of this, but here’s my opinion anyway.”
It’s a post about people butting in where they should take the time to sit down and process something rather than interjecting for the sake of hearing their own voice.
Yeah, no, I have ADHD and if I’m invested enough in a long post to respond, I’m nine times out of ten going to be interested enough to read the whole thing.
Mistakes in reading comprehension or a series of working memory failures like described above are one thing, but they’re a tiny fraction of the people just literally saying “Lol I’m not gonna read this”.
Which – a metaphor that might help: ADHD makes it more difficult to allow someone to finish their point before jumping in, interrupting them to get to your point. It’s SO tempting to just constantly interrupt people, because they’re taking TOO LONG, and you’ll forget your point or it won’t be relevant anymore – but that doesn’t make it ok to just constantly talk over people when you have ADHD. Reading the first few sentences of a long post and saying “Fuck finishing this, here’s what I have to say” is roughly equivalent to interrupting someone’s point to get to your own, making it clear that you don’t care what they have to say. And while that’s sometimes appropriate, just be aware of the message you’re sending by doing so. If you don’t care what Joy has to say, why are you following or reblogging her?
Oh god the need to interject and say something before I forget it is so fucking real and I’ve had to train myself not to do itwhile speakingto others. (Now I just look like the rude asshole always on my phone, when actually I am opening up the notepad or a blank text and writing myself a note to REMEMBER THE THING because I will lose thoughts within a 30 second gap of time sometimes)
And it does happen when I’m reading posts and a thought forms too. But you know what I do, I open up a new tab or a word document and I start processing it there so that the person “speaking” doesn’t wind up feeling dismissed or talked over. And sometimes if I keep reading long enough, I find out that what I was about to interject with was already said, and a simple “this” or “I support this” is all that is necessary.
What I do not do, is comment on posts where people are clearly putting in time and effort, and reply with “Okay I didn’t read this, but here are my thoughts.”
Like, there is a profound difference between that and “Okay this was lengthy and I struggled with this, can you explain it again or let me know if I got the gist of it?”
Writing your thoughts down, so as not to lose them is such a helpful idea. I can really use this as I tend to interrupt or just not speak much at all, I lose so many ideas an comments because of this. so cool, thanks.
As someone with ADHD and other issues with memory and comprehension ( especially of written things) if I can’t read all of one thing and comprehend it I will generally pass on commenting until I either figure out what is being said or I just think, “Ehh,can’t do words today, I’ll pass for now”, what I don’t do is type “LOL I didn’t read this but…”
Pretty sure most of the “LOL didn’t read this, but…” folks are the I have an opinion on this and you are wrong and what I think must be said sorts, who kinda like to make sure everyone KNOWS they are right. They reall like to go after more popular blogs, ‘cause people with little audiences tend to not get those kinds of responses.
“Thank you for lending us the services of your most advanced robot to date,” said the starship captain. “I must say, it took a while to get used to such an… unusual crew member, but she proved herself an invaluable companion time and time again. Despite not having emotions, she was one of us, through and through.”
The roboticist looked at his creation. She was staring impassively into the middle distance, her strange face artificially calm. On her chest were the many medals she had earned on her long mission.
“’No emotions’, huh? Is that what she told you?”
The captain furrowed his brow. “Y-yes? She displayed great courage and nobility all the same.” Smiling, he added, “Besides, my human crew has more emotions than they know what to do with.”
“I see.” The roboticist turned to the android. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Anna?”
“No, sir. I don’t.” Her voice was flat, her expression unchanged.
“Wait…” the captain looked quickly between creator and creation. “Did she just… use a contraction?”
“I can’t use contractions, sir. It’s against my programming.” The corners of the robot’s mouth twitched upward almost imperceptibly, but her strange eyes seemed to be dancing with electronic life.
The captain seemed to hiccup in astonishment, and a dark look crossed his face. With dawning realization, he shook his finger at his former crewman. “You… you wicked little…” He wheeled on the roboticist, who had started to laugh. “Did you put her up to this?! God, and she can lie–-!” He rubbed hand across his face. “God… fuck! Let me guess… you’ve got emotions, don’t you?”
Anna winked.
“I just don’t understand,” said the captain. “Why would you spend five years pretending not to have emotions? All those times we explained idioms and jokes to you, and you knew perfectly well what was meant? Why, Anna?”
Anna grinned. It was an expression that made the captain uneasy – he had grown accustomed to the awkward little curve she sometimes forced her mouth to make when she was trying to be friendly. He had only seen a natural, effortless smile on the robot’s face once before, when she had been infected with a sadistic computer virus that resented organic life. She’d nearly destroyed the ship and everyone on it before they managed to subdue her and remove the virus. She’d fought and screamed obscenities and had even detached her own head in an effort to stop them. It was not a memory he liked to be reminded of.
The robot ran her fingers through her short hair as if pondering her answer. “It seemed… safer,” she said finally.
“Safer? How so?”
She shrugged. “Humans tend to treat each other very poorly. Not you, specifically, but in general. I did not want anyone to forget that I am a machine, so I leaned into stereotypes and hammed it up a bit to protect my reputation as a logical, reliable, and impartial supercomputer. Would you have entrusted me with certain delicate responsibilities and decisions if you truly thought of me as a woman, sir?”
The captain opened his mouth to reply, but Anna cut him off. “You don’t need to defend yourself, Captain,” she said. “I know you would never intentionally behave in a bigoted manner. But I was designed to observe humanity and identify patterns, and I have seen how even the most enlightened of your species alter their behavior towards female peers. I needed to ensure the safety of the crew and the success of our mission, and to do that efficiently, I could not afford to be seen as emotionally compromised. Or,” she added, “As a viable romantic partner.”
“Oh,” said the captain. He didn’t know what else to say. There was a heaviness in his chest that he couldn’t identify.
“I am sorry to have deceived you, sir. If I have broken your trust, I must—“
“No.” He shook his head firmly. “You just… gave me a lot to think about.”
Anna regarded him thoughtfully for a moment and then bit her lip. “Sir? There is one… other motivation for my behavior, but I’m not sure you will like it.”
The captain sighed. “You are no longer under my command, Anna,” he said. “I can’t order you to share it. If you tell me at all, tell me as a friend, not as your captain.”
The robot’s eyes glittered. “Well, sir… it was very funny.”
The captain rubbed his neck. He had so many questions he wanted to ask, questions he thought he’d found the answers to years before, but there was no time. He had a starship to run, after all.
“You know,” he began, “Space is… pretty big. There’s always more of it to see, and I just so happen to happen to be the captain of an exploratory research vessel in need of a good crew. There will always be a place for you on it so long as I’m in charge, Anna.”
“Thank you, captain. That means a lot to me.”
He took a deep breath. “I hope what I am about to say does not offend you. This may be a sensitive topic, but in light of your… personal revelations, I must risk indiscretion. I don’t know what your status is on this planet. I don’t know how you might be treated here. I am ashamed of myself for not making this offer before, but Anna… I will not abandon you here if it means a loss of your freedom. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here. If that means, um, payment, or threats, even violence… so be it!”
His mouth had gone dry and he could feel his pulse pounding in his temple. This had been on his mind for months as the end of Anna’s contract approached, troubling his sleep with nightmares about finding her disassembled and her parts recycled into tools. He’d pushed those thoughts away as much as possible, assuming that there was nothing he could do to help her – that she wouldn’t know how to want help. Now it was almost too late. He felt like an idiot.
Anna’s hug took him by surprise. She rarely touched anyone if she didn’t have to, and he’d never seen her initiate a hug. It was brief, chaste, and would undoubtedly leave a bruise. He winced.
“Captain,” said the robot, her voice soft, “I think you’re emotionally compromised.”
“You are responsible for too many people to worry so much about one retired robot,” she said. “I need to know that I’m leaving my friends under the command of someone with a clear head.”
“Dammit, Anna,” growled the captain. “Just tell me you’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be fine, sir. Is that good enough for you?”
“No… because now I know you can lie.”
Anna sighed heavily and began fiddling with one of her medals. “It has been 218 weeks since my activation date,” she said. “I have spent most of my life onboard a starship exploring the galaxy. I am a decorated soldier, an accomplished scientist, and – to a colony of astral amoebas – revered as a minor fertility deity. I have seen untold wonders beyond your perception and stretched the limits of my own programming. I have lived a good life, captain. You made sure of that.”
Reaching behind her head, she disengaged the lock that kept her epidermis in place. She tugged gently at a hidden seam until her scalp peeled away, revealing the shell of her electronic brain.
“I don’t know what my future holds,” she continued, “I am confident that I will not be deactivated. My ‘father’ is an eccentric, but he wrote the basis of my ethical programming, and I trust him to respect my personal agency. I do not need process things the way you do, Captain. Still, even I grow… tired, in a way. In here.” She gestured at her exposed electronics. “No amount of rest or affection can rejuvenate me. I need repairs and upgrades if I am to go on, and this is the one place in the galaxy where I can receive those.”
She pulled something out of her brain and held it up for him to see before placing it into his palm. It was a thin, translucent rod, barely larger than a toothpick.
“What is this?” he asked, turning it over in his hand. It caught the light and shimmered like an oil slick.
The robot closed his fingers around it gently. “Think of it as reassurance,” she said.
The captain glared. “Great… first you start using contractions, then you get cryptic on me. Really, Anna, what am I holding?”
“Nothing special.” She smoothed her scalp back into place. “Just some backups of a few of my most important files. Significant memories, ethical scripts, some personality coding… it is a rudimentary framework of my identity.”
The captain stared at her. “This is your soul?”
Anna raised her eyebrows. “That is an unnecessarily superstitious term,” she said. “But, given the circumstances, perhaps it is appropriate. You know what I am trusting you with, Captain.”
He swallowed, nodded, and carefully tucked the rod into his breast pocket. His hand instinctively moved to cover it. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair, then.”
“Until next time, sir.” Anna’s salute was formal, but her eyes were warm.
This may just be my experience as an autistic person, but the kids I’ve nannied whose parent’s complain of ‘bad awful in cooperative selfish autistic behavior’ are… Not like that? At all?
Like, for example, I cared for a kid for a while who was nonverbal and didn’t like being touched. Around six years old? Their parent said that they were fussy and had a strict schedule, and that they had problems getting them to eat. Their last few nannies had quit out of frustration.
So, I showed up. And for the first little while, it was awkward. The kid didn’t know me, I didn’t know them, you know how it is. And for the first… Day and a half, maybe? I fucked up a few times.
I changed their diaper and they screamed at me. I put the TV off and they threw things. Not fun, but regular upset kid stuff.
Next time, I figured, hell, I wouldn’t like being manhandled and ordered around either. Who likes being physically lifted out of whatever it is they’re doing and having their pants yanked off? Fucking few, that’s who.
Next time, I go, ‘hey, kiddo. You need a new diaper?’ and check. ‘I’m gonna go grab a new one and get you clean, okay?’ ‘Wanna find a spot to lay down?’ ‘Alright, almost done. Awesome job, thanks buddy’.
I learned stuff about them. They liked a heads up before I did anything disruptive. They didn’t mind that I rattled of about nothing all day. They didn’t like grass or plastic touching their back. They were okay with carpets and towels. They liked pictionary, and the color yellow, and fish crackers, and painting. They didn’t look me in the face (which was never an issue- I hate that too, it fucking sucks) but I never had reason to believe that they were ignoring me.
Once I learned what I was doing wrong, everything was fine. Did they magically “”“become normal”“” and start talking and laughing and hugging? No, but we had fun and had a good time and found a compromise between what I was comfortable with and what they were comfortable with. (For the record, I didn’t magically sailor-moon transform into a socially adept individual, either. In case anyone was wondering.)
I don’t like eye contact. It’s distracting and painful and stresses me out.
They didn’t like eye contact either.
Is eye contact necessary to communication? No. So we just didn’t do it.
Was there ever a situation where I HAD to force them to drop everything and lay down on the lawn? No. So the thirty second warning came into play, and nobody died.
“But they never talked!”
No, they didn’t. And they didn’t know ASL, and they didn’t like being touched.
So you know what happened?
My third day in, they tugged on my shirt. ‘Hey monkey, what’s up?’ I asked. And they tugged me towards the kitchen. ‘oh, cool. You hungry?’. They raised their hands in an ‘up’ gesture. ‘you want up? Cool.’ and I lifted them up. They pointed to the fridge. I opened it. They grabbed a juice box out of the top shelf, and pushed the door closed again. ‘oh sweet, grape is the best. You are an individual of refined taste.’ I put them down and they went back to their room to play Legos.
“But they didn’t say please or thank you!” “But you should be teaching them communication skills!” “But!” Lalalalala.
1. The entire interaction was entirely considerate and polite. I was never made uncomfortable. I was made aware of the problem so that I could help them solve it. There was no mess, no tears, no bruises, no shouting.
2. Did my brain collapse into a thousand million fragments of shattered diamond dust out of sheer incomprehension? No? Then their communication skills were fine. Goal realized, solution found, objective complete. They found the most simple and painless way to communicate the situation and then did it.
Kids are not stupid. AUTISTIC kids are not stupid.
I’m willing to bet real cash money that the real reason the last few nannies had quit had a million times more to do with their own ability to cope, not the kid’s.
To this day, that was the most relaxed and enjoyable job I’ve ever had.
And I know I don’t speak for everyone. All kids are different. All adults are different. But in my time and experience, pretty much 95% of all my difficulties with children come from ME not being understanding enough. Every single “problem child” I’ve worked with turned out to be a pretty cool person once I started figuring out how to put my ego aside and let them set the pace.
Again, not speaking universally, here. I’m just saying. Sometimes social rules are bullshit, you know? People are people
Have you ever read an article about the study that found that teaching the parents to cope with autistic kids yields better results than other therapies? Because this is exactly what they were talking about.
I watch two autistic boys every once in a while, and they are honestly the easiest kids I’ve ever watched. Neither of them speak more than a few words, usually one at a time, but they have no issue with communication.
One of them is really quiet and reserved and happy to play on the computer. The other one gets excited to see people he knows and ran up to me at my University the other day and felt my hair (I recently shaved it down, he loved it).
But everyone I talk to, except their mom, is so impressed by how well I handle them?? Their mom knew we’d get along famously, so she isn’t. Because since they don’t talk and prefer to be on their own and initiate touching and don’t make eye-contact and whatever other reason people thought that it would be hard for me to deal with these cool little dudes.
The first day was a little hard, because I didn’t know them very well yet and I hadn’t seen them at home before. But it was easy enough to just respect their boundaries? And their communication was very clear, just different.
Everyone is so impressed that I handle them so well, especially when I tell them I’m Autistic too, but like, of course I do? I know how to treat people with respect and I understand how being Autistic affects you, since I am myself.
No eye-contact? Not a problem. More comfortable guiding me by hand to help you get a snack? Cool. They are the most respectful 10 year olds too. If I need to finish something before I can help them, they wait patiently. If I need help they come running over to try.
Basically, learn to cope with autism, not work against it. Speech isn’t the only form of communication. People are happier when their needs are respected. People are people and respect goes both ways.
And maybe? Watch how autistic people act around other autistic people, and take note? Because we’re supposed to be the rigid ones, but it seems that we’re better at adjusting.
Hot fucking take, if a post is long and informative, you likely need to read all of it to make an informed contribution to the topic instead of just talking over people or dismissing them based on the first few lines of opening up a dialogue.
“Honestly I read the first few lines and this is bullshit, I—”
Oh you read the first few lines. Of a multi-thread reblog post, where others have put time and effort into trying to convey a complex issue, but y’know. You read the first few lines, and felt like you had something to say and are convinced it will be in no way irrelevant, repetitive or refutable. Okay. Great.
They read the first few lines, you guys, we’re good.
istg this is one of the biggest frustrations I run into these days. I put time and effort into laying out my perspective and my reasonings and all I get back is “who’s going to read that fucking essay, try harder”
it’s unspeakably rude! it’s a staggering lack of good faith, plain disrespect towards someone who’s trying to have an actual discussion, and I literally cannot understand why people think it’s any kind of an appropriate way to behave.
It. Drives. Me. Bonkers.
“Condense your life experiences and perspective into a soundbite so it looks on brand for quick and snappy reblogs so we can all feel woke about it.”
The same person a hot second later. “Well there’s no perspectives or proof to back this up so your point is invalid.”
*flips table*
Ok. I do genuinely understand where everyone is coming from here. I do recognise that it is exceptionally frustrating when someone is actually being lazy and genuinely can’t be bothered to read because they just want to yap their mouth off etc.
That being said.
Can we *please* be aware that people with ADHD and other processing issues exist and in those cases, because the person may have read a bit, had a thought and want to get it down, they start writing their ideas before they’ve read it completely so the thought doesn’t vanish. Furthermore, because of said processing issues a proper explanation would be ‘I haven’t read all of this, (I have ADHD and wanted to get this thought down before I forget) but (I fully intend to read the rest), anyway my thought was…’ and the bits in brackets are what doesn’t make it to the response because their processing has caused them to delete those bits from their short term memory while writing.
Also, sorry to have to say it, but if you’re more concerned about coming across eloquently and so forth, then basically you’re admitting that you’ve written a long response just to show off that you’re clever.
Fine, absolutely, someone who’s being lazy should just read it through.
However, I know for a fact that if a post is quite long, people with processing issues may find it daunting and would actually appreciate a condensed version so they can more easily follow the conversation and contribute.
Yes, I write long posts but if someone reblogged a post asking me to condense it for their understanding, I absolutely would.
If I can do that, there’s no reason you can’t and if you’re going to grumble about it, it shows that first and foremost you’re happy to shove people with processing issues under the bus in favour of being able to show off.
I apologise if this comes across as unnecessarily harsh but I think more people need to think about the ways in which they engage in actual ableism.
If you’re automatic response to ‘could you explain this’ is to accuse people of laziness, the only people you are hurting is those with processing issues. The people who are genuinely just being lazy will just strop at you and digitally storm off.
Meanwhile you will leave someone with an issue they cannot change, because it is hardwired, feeling bad about themselves and more likely to not engage with topics of interest, because they’ll be accused of laziness for being overwhelmed by the amount of text etc.
As someone with ADHD, this is not even remotely what this post is about.
It’s the venting of a personal frustration that I expend so much energy and focus trying to explain things to people, being as concise, relevant and thorough as possible, (because inevitably someone always tags on “but what about X issue! why are you being problematic and missing out X issue!”) and then some rude person comments with the lengthier version of “tl;dr” and then proceeds to talk over everyone else in the comment thread, either being needlessly repetitive because they didn’t read the comments, or just outright wrong or just plain dismissive.
Someone needs me to condense and clarify, I will. I absolutely will. But the way to get me to do that is not to say “I didn’t read all of this, but here’s my opinion anyway.”
It’s a post about people butting in where they should take the time to sit down and process something rather than interjecting for the sake of hearing their own voice.
Yeah, no, I have ADHD and if I’m invested enough in a long post to respond, I’m nine times out of ten going to be interested enough to read the whole thing.
Mistakes in reading comprehension or a series of working memory failures like described above are one thing, but they’re a tiny fraction of the people just literally saying “Lol I’m not gonna read this”.
Which – a metaphor that might help: ADHD makes it more difficult to allow someone to finish their point before jumping in, interrupting them to get to your point. It’s SO tempting to just constantly interrupt people, because they’re taking TOO LONG, and you’ll forget your point or it won’t be relevant anymore – but that doesn’t make it ok to just constantly talk over people when you have ADHD. Reading the first few sentences of a long post and saying “Fuck finishing this, here’s what I have to say” is roughly equivalent to interrupting someone’s point to get to your own, making it clear that you don’t care what they have to say. And while that’s sometimes appropriate, just be aware of the message you’re sending by doing so. If you don’t care what Joy has to say, why are you following or reblogging her?
Oh god the need to interject and say something before I forget it is so fucking real and I’ve had to train myself not to do itwhile speakingto others. (Now I just look like the rude asshole always on my phone, when actually I am opening up the notepad or a blank text and writing myself a note to REMEMBER THE THING because I will lose thoughts within a 30 second gap of time sometimes)
And it does happen when I’m reading posts and a thought forms too. But you know what I do, I open up a new tab or a word document and I start processing it there so that the person “speaking” doesn’t wind up feeling dismissed or talked over. And sometimes if I keep reading long enough, I find out that what I was about to interject with was already said, and a simple “this” or “I support this” is all that is necessary.
What I do not do, is comment on posts where people are clearly putting in time and effort, and reply with “Okay I didn’t read this, but here are my thoughts.”
Like, there is a profound difference between that and “Okay this was lengthy and I struggled with this, can you explain it again or let me know if I got the gist of it?”
I’ll be the first to admit I thoroughly enjoy all the “holy shit, Australia” posts that circulate around here but I feel like there’s a very important caveat when it comes to the discussion of swooping season that no one seems to mention.
For those not aware, swooping season is when the magpies start to nest and turn into mini dive-bombers comprised of talons, feathers and spite. It’s not fun. I bled heavily after a particularly vicious swoop when I was a kid, and I’m definitely not the only one.
But here’s the thing: swooping is not an innate behaviour. It’s a learned one. I realised this the moment I moved out of home and began my decade long (entirely unintentional) habit of moving to a different suburb every two years.
I’ve met a lot of wildlife, walking everywhere as I do. And I’ve met a lot of magpies – hella intelligent creatures that are probably thinking “what the fuck is this chick doing” every time I say hi to them as I walk past.
When I first moved out of home, I automatically started taking notes on areas I saw magpies in preparation for swooping season. It was just the done thing. It wasn’t until September came and went and the magpies in my area continued their quizzical but otherwise completely non-aggressive behaviour that it started to twig with me.
The next few years of moving around solidified my suspicions.
Anytime I lived close to a school or in an area with a high concentration of families with young kids, the magpies would swoop. Any suburb (usually inner city) with a high concentration of childless households and/or share-houses: no swooping to be seen.
And it’s any goddamn wonder.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve yelled at kids for messing with wildlife. I grew up in the outer suburbs, so there was no shortage of mini-assholes with an empathy shortage. Australian kids will poke anything they can reach with a stick, and throw rocks at everything else. Including birds nests.
Magpies are intelligent as hell, and they remember shit for GENERATIONS. Some human-shaped fucker throwing rocks at them and their nests? That’s something that’d stick.
So anytime you read one of those “lol the birds try to kill us here” posts, remember: it’s not the birds that started that shit – it was the asshole humans.
Adding on to the fact that magpies are super intelligent:
In primary school there were these really huge gum trees in which a family of magpies took up residence one year.
(an important thing to note is that I grew up in the country with A LOT of magpies -that were basically like relatives for the amount of time they spent on the veranda- and never encountered any swooping)
So one morning walking in to school I noticed that all the kids ahead of me were giving the really huge gum trees a wide berth, with other kids shouting warnings from the buildings. Being an airy-headed little kid, I wasn’t really paying attention to what they were actually saying, so I just kept walking straight under the trees.
Nothing happened.
I got to the buildings and asked why everyone was making a big fuss about the trees, and one of my friends just pointed back the way I came and said “the birds!”
And sure enough, any of the other kids that tried to walk under the trees got immediately swooped and chased to what the magpies thought was a good distance from their nests.
Magpies not only remember humans that are mean to them, but they recognise humans that have been given the seal of approval by other magpies.
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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