Eat The Rich

okay y'all

Sun, 22 Jul 2012 19:49:20 -0500

This blog will self-destruct. I am moving all my ridiculous thoughts/art onto one blog, here. It’ll be a less straight SJ and more I am an actual human. Also art, some of which gets pretty gay.

So you know.

The Guardian | £13tn: hoard hidden from taxman by global elite

Sun, 22 Jul 2012 13:16:42 -0500

The Guardian | £13tn: hoard hidden from taxman by global elite:

becoming-wave:

A global super-rich elite has exploited gaps in cross-border tax rules to hide an extraordinary £13 trillion ($21tn) of wealth offshore – as much as the American and Japanese GDPs put together – according to research commissioned by the campaign group Tax Justice Network.

James Henry, former chief economist at consultancy McKinsey and an expert on tax havens, has compiled the most detailed estimates yet of the size of the offshore economy in a new report, The Price of Offshore Revisited, released exclusively to the Observer.

The sheer size of the cash pile sitting out of reach of tax authorities is so great that it suggests standard measures of inequality radically underestimate the true gap between rich and poor. According to Henry’s calculations, £6.3tn of assets is owned by only 92,000 people, or 0.001% of the world’s population – a tiny class of the mega-rich who have more in common with each other than those at the bottom of the income scale in their own societies.

“These estimates reveal a staggering failure: inequality is much, much worse than official statistics show, but politicians are still relying on trickle-down to transfer wealth to poorer people,” said John Christensen of the Tax Justice Network. “People on the street have no illusions about how unfair the situation has become.”

Good lord.

These are the people whose hearts I would eat straight from their chests.

Beloved Community... (Asking for Help)

Fri, 20 Jul 2012 15:07:05 -0500

Beloved Community... (Asking for Help):

spaceykate:

queershoulder:

After much urging from friends & mentors, I’m starting an Indie-Go-Go campaign to get myself out of $8,000 (yikes) of combined medical & dental debt. Please consider donating — no amount is too small, and every bit helps. If you’re not able to make a monetary donation, please consider spreading the word about this campaign. Re-post, share, blog, tweet about it, etc. Every single bit of help is deeply appreciated.

Please check this one out. Gina de Vries, on top of being one of the finest and sweetest people it has ever been my pleasure to know and a femme icon, is a genuinely brilliant author and performing artist, and she’s the co-creator (with Julia Serano) of “Girl Talk: A Tans & Cis Women’s Dialogue,” and she needs help.

Anybody who’s ever had to pay for anything out-of-pocket ever knows how crushing medical debt can be (and if you don’t, trust me, it’s murder). Even a few dollars can help immensely.

Even if you can’t donate (or even if you do!), please reblog so that other folks can see!

seventh crow speaking: When a "die-hard conservative Republican" woman moves to Canada and encounters the universal healthcare there, cultures...

Fri, 20 Jul 2012 13:45:37 -0500

seventh crow speaking: When a "die-hard conservative Republican" woman moves to Canada and encounters the universal healthcare there, cultures...:

stfuconservatives:

rabbleprochoice:

abaldwin360:

by Vyckie Garrison | Reality Check

When I moved to Canada in 2008, I was a die-hard conservative Republican. So when I found out that we were going to be covered by Canada’s Universal Health Care, I was somewhat…

One day I’ll get to the doctor again. Hopefully it doesn’t take moving to Canada to get there.

"Hunger is caused by poverty and inequality, not scarcity. For the past two decades, the rate of..."

Thu, 19 Jul 2012 00:44:40 -0500

“

Hunger is caused by poverty and inequality, not scarcity. For the past two decades, the rate of global food production has increased faster than the rate of global population growth. The world already produces more than 1 ½ times enough food to feed everyone on the planet. That’s enough to feed 10 billion people, the population peak we expect by 2050. But the people making less than $2 a day — most of whom are resource-poor farmers cultivating unviably small plots of land — can’t afford to buy this food.

In reality, the bulk of industrially-produced grain crops goes to biofuels and confined animal feedlots rather than food for the 1 billion hungry. The call to double food production by 2050 only applies if we continue to prioritize the growing population of livestock and automobiles over hungry people.”

- Eric Holt Gimenez, We Already Grow Enough Food For 10 Billion People — and Still Can’t End Hunger (via theyoungradical)

stfuconservatives: creepinitreal: I need help. I need so much...

Wed, 18 Jul 2012 14:04:35 -0500

stfuconservatives:

creepinitreal:

I need help. I need so much help right now.

I came home from a long day at work with my sister today to find a red sheet of paper taped to the front of my door. We joked and said ‘oh looks like we’re finally getting evicted.’ So we parked in our driveway and my sister went to check out what the paper actually said.

I’m completely lost right now. Our house is going to be sold at a public affair on September 10th, 2012. I took the paper to my dad, since he’s pretty much the head of the house and the house itself is under his name. When I read it to him, he just shrugged and put the paper aside. My dad suffers from depression and has been unable to work for the past few years and we’ve been scraping by on social security checks the entire time. My sister and I only work part time as per diem employees (meaning we get no benefits and are only scheduled as needed), my mom hasn’t been a part of our lives for a long time now, and my younger sister (age 14) is too young to work.

My dad’s given up but my sister and I won’t go down without a fight. We’re going to go to the ends of the earth to find a way to keeps us and our younger sister in this house.

I’m a very private person and this was one of the most difficult things I’ve had to do in a long time. So please, a signal boost, a dollar, anything to help and you’ll have my eternal gratitude. I can’t lose the house I’ve spent my entire life in.

[My sister started a campaign here.]

Signal boosting. This family didn’t realize their dad hadn’t been paying property taxes and now they’re being evicted. I know times are hard for everyone. I saw this post last night and wasn’t sure whether I should donate. But then I thought, “What if that was me? What if the person in charge of paying my bills was seriously mentally ill and I didn’t know there was a problem until it was too late?” I would hope and pray that strangers would open their hearts and give me $5.

Our government has let us down by not closely regulating banks and lenders. Our government has let us down by not giving people on disability enough money to live on. Our government has let us down by not prioritizing affordable mental health care. Our government has let us down by decreasing taxes for the wealthy while squeezing benefits for the poor. On a macro level, we can fight back by electing better politicians and thinking critically about the media. On a micro level, we can fight back by letting this family keep their home. Please donate and/or signal boost.

a tumblr question:

Wed, 18 Jul 2012 01:59:38 -0500

is there any way to switch a sub-account to being the main account?

Gardener Sues Tulsa for Cutting Down Her Edible Garden

Thu, 12 Jul 2012 22:48:54 -0500

Gardener Sues Tulsa for Cutting Down Her Edible Garden:

barfmongrel:

afterromulus:

blackamazon:

humanformat:

KOTV reports that Denise Morrison grows an edible and medicinal garden of over 100 plant varieties in her front and back yard. Last August, she received a letter from the city reporting a complaint about her yard.

She took photographs of her gardens and went to meet with city inspectors who told her “Everything, everything need to go” when she asked for problem areas to be pointed out.

Upon hearing that all of her garden would have to be destroyed she called the police who issued her a citation so she could appear in court and work it out with the city. At her court hearing on August 15 the judge directed both parties to return to court in October.

The very next day, Morrison found, and photographed, city workers cutting down most of her plants-with what appears to be a bobcat and riding lawnmower- including trees that bore fruits and nuts. It is important to point out here that the city did not have permission to take action against the garden because the judge had put off hearing their case until October.

Everything that Morrison grew could be eaten. At the time the gardener was unemployed and not covered by insurance.She used her garden not only to feed herself, but to treat her diabetes, high-blood pressure and arthritis. According to Morrison, when she explained this to the enforcement officials she was told “we don’t care.” Morrison has filed a civil rights lawsuit arguing that the enforcement officials overstepped their bounds.

If this is sounding familiar to you it’s because gardens like Morrison’s are always coming under attack. Remember the story of Adam Guerrero last year that made national headlines after Colleen blogged about it here at TreeHugger?

I wish Morrison all the luck with her lawsuit because gardens are a civil right.

[snipped for length, tyvm]

I understand that this story would be really enraging if it were true. Like. I get that. I do. My knee jerk reaction was a pretty strong one, but there is absolutely no reason to buy this woman’s story. I’m not saying she deserves to be totally dismissed; it’s just we’re getting a pretty bias angle on the issue, here. We might as well take it with a grain of salt. Search this case on google, and you’ll find no unbiased or particularly reputable news organizations covering this story, or even one without an obvious, specific agenda to promote.

There might be a reason for that: we only have this woman’s word to go on. The City of Tulsa has been unable to comment. You don’t gaggle around a news story that involves two aggravated parties without getting at least more than one source. Can we just wait for the defense to speak without jumping to the conclusion that the government is victimizing this woman? Seems kinda dirty to me. makes me all itchy and whatnot.

Oh hey look, a person with the points I should have known well enough to consider before mindlessly reblobbing this. The thing about tumblr is that we want to trust everything that comes across our dash looking legitimate, but, like any news source— especially a semi-anonymous, crowdsourced news source— we need to keep an eye out for actual facts. We can’t just trust journalists, even when we think they’re on our side. Everyone has a bias. Everybody’s getting paid to promote one agenda or the other.

Gardener Sues Tulsa for Cutting Down Her Edible Garden

Sun, 08 Jul 2012 16:21:33 -0500

Gardener Sues Tulsa for Cutting Down Her Edible Garden:

blackamazon:

humanformat:

KOTV reports that Denise Morrison grows an edible and medicinal garden of over 100 plant varieties in her front and back yard. Last August, she received a letter from the city reporting a complaint about her yard.

She took photographs of her gardens and went to meet with city inspectors who told her “Everything, everything need to go” when she asked for problem areas to be pointed out.

Upon hearing that all of her garden would have to be destroyed she called the police who issued her a citation so she could appear in court and work it out with the city. At her court hearing on August 15 the judge directed both parties to return to court in October.

The very next day, Morrison found, and photographed, city workers cutting down most of her plants-with what appears to be a bobcat and riding lawnmower- including trees that bore fruits and nuts. It is important to point out here that the city did not have permission to take action against the garden because the judge had put off hearing their case until October.

Everything that Morrison grew could be eaten. At the time the gardener was unemployed and not covered by insurance.She used her garden not only to feed herself, but to treat her diabetes, high-blood pressure and arthritis. According to Morrison, when she explained this to the enforcement officials she was told “we don’t care.” Morrison has filed a civil rights lawsuit arguing that the enforcement officials overstepped their bounds.

If this is sounding familiar to you it’s because gardens like Morrison’s are always coming under attack. Remember the story of Adam Guerrero last year that made national headlines after Colleen blogged about it here at TreeHugger?

I wish Morrison all the luck with her lawsuit because gardens are a civil right.

Self-sufficiency is a fucking crime now?

Don’t ask for help, they say

Don’t depend on handouts they say

Don’t expect shit.

And when they see what that actually looks like

They take a BOBCAT to your property.

Tell me some more about how they don’t depend on our QUIET UNOBTRUSIVE suffering again

Tulsa is my home town.

Gadabout Green's Misadventures: karnythia: misspepita: rubato: man so I just got back from my...

Thu, 05 Jul 2012 23:59:35 -0500

Gadabout Green's Misadventures: karnythia: misspepita: rubato: man so I just got back from my...:

karnythia:

misspepita:

rubato:

man so I just got back from my grandparents’ place

(it was pretty awesome to just talk in mandarin for like three hours ‘cause I never do that)

my grandma made these pork chops that my brother likes, and she was packing up a couple for me to…

"Okay guys, one more thing, this summer when you’re being inundated with all this American..."

Wed, 04 Jul 2012 17:02:37 -0500

“Okay guys, one more thing, this summer when you’re being inundated with all this American bicentennial Fourth Of July brouhaha, don’t forget what you’re celebrating, and that’s the fact that a bunch of slave-owning, aristocratic, white males didn’t want to pay their taxes.”

- Ms. Ginny Stroud (via lostgirlxatheart)

#good thing we’ve come so far since then #oh wait

(via infiltratortits)

"When you live in a poor neighborhood, you are living in an area where you have poor schools. When..."

Tue, 03 Jul 2012 19:41:29 -0500

“When you live in a poor neighborhood, you are living in an area where you have poor schools. When you have poor schools, you have poor teachers. When you have poor teachers, you get a poor education. When you get a poor education, you can only work in a poor-paying job. And that poor-paying job enables you to live again in a poor neighborhood. So, it’s a very vicious cycle.”

- Malcolm X (via warriorsrise)

This simple truth needs to be put on a loop in the U.S. People honestly do not grasp this at all.

"The working class are more numerous than the ruling class, and stronger. They depend on us for..."

Sun, 01 Jul 2012 00:46:19 -0500

“The working class are more numerous than the ruling class, and stronger. They depend on us for everything. We provide their food and build their houses and make their clothes, and without us they die. They can’t do anything unless we let them. Always remember that.”

- Ken Follett, Fall of Giants (via bibliojungle)

News from The Satellite: "Why are you doing this?"

Fri, 29 Jun 2012 23:35:06 -0500

News from The Satellite: "Why are you doing this?":

signalboosting:

Sometimes it’s just irritating for people to go through the ‘Signal Boost’ tag. It’s cluttered with blogs that use it and they don’t really need it- between requests for commissions and personal gain, the important things slip through the cracks. Not to mention you also have to look through…

This is my friend, composing a feed of those posts that get filtered through the signal-boost tab. Useful!

Someone called me a nigger and poured alcohol on my head.

Thu, 28 Jun 2012 01:18:54 -0500

Someone called me a nigger and poured alcohol on my head. :

agirlincollege:

On January 27, 2011 at a bar in Statesboro, GA I was called a nigger and had alcohol poured on my head. A complete stranger said, “Oh look, there goes another nigger.” and then minutes later there was alcohol on my head, down my shirt, my back. I did the right thing: I walked away. I refused to become who and what that stranger wanted me to be. When I turned around, I didn’t see him, I saw the laughter coming from his mouth and his friends. I left town that night, and I’m just returning. I’m a freshman. I’m only 18. We’d been there for all of ten minutes, if that. I was just standing there, talking to my friends, so innocently. I left Statesboro a couple of hours after the incident, thinking I’d began to feel better; thinking I’d be able to sleep peacefully knowing I was away from my alcohol stained clothing or the red liquid from my hair, but I was so wrong. Every time I closed my eyes I could feel the alcohol hitting my back, and I could hear and see their laughter. No one deserves that. I don’t want anyone to have to go through what I’m going through right now. I know racism exist, but assault due to the color of someone’s skin should not. I guess I don’t really know why I’m writing this. I think I’m writing this because I want to do something about it and to stop it or to get attention to the many incidents like this that have or could happen, but I don’t know where to start. They say it takes a horrible experience to open your eyes sometimes. Well this was my experience and it’s opened my eyes to the fact that maybe this happened to me so that I could make a change for the better…not for just me but for everyone who may experience this.

Please help me share my story.

zuky: I still think about it every year. Most Chinese people...

Mon, 25 Jun 2012 05:17:59 -0500

zuky:

I still think about it every year. Most Chinese people who are old enough to remember refer to what happened in and around Tiananmen Square in the spring of 1989 as “the June Fourth Incident”. I was 17 when it happened and I remember it well. I was in southern California that year and watched it all unfold on TV, day by day, for weeks on end, watching TV alone in empty rooms while my friends and classmates partied. I always knew that Western media did a shitty, sensationalistic job of reporting on those events, making it more about “if it bleeds it leads” and “Red China = bad” than any more in-depth understanding of the actual political context, stakes, costs and consequences (since when do US Americans give a shit about people in China? oh yeah, when it serves their political purposes).

Less than two years after it happened, I was in China hanging out with students who had been there. I heard so many stories from those heady days of wine-soaked idealism and tearful puppy love in the ragtag tent city. The kids who streamed into Beijing on trains and buses and trucks that spring were singing songs of freedom. They knew they might have to pay for their actions with their lives. You have to imagine tens of thousands of protesters surrounding all the government buildings in Washington DC and shutting down the entire capitol city for six weeks with blockades of fire cutting off arterial roads. I got utterly swept up in the emotions too and spent countless nights in grungy basement bars having youthfully intense conversations about what it all meant and the future of China and this fucked up world and laughing and crying and getting in trouble and getting arrested for subversive politics. I always vaguely planned to write it all down someday, all those experiences and conversations and thoughts and feelings, with the benefit of years and distance, but two decades have now passed and it hasn’t happened yet, at least not in totality, only tidbits here and there. Sometimes, that’s all you got.

Even if you make $11 an hour and work full time (40 hours), your annual income would be below the poverty line ($23,050) before taxes. The nations minimum wage is set at $7.25 an hour.

Wed, 20 Jun 2012 18:59:03 -0500

LET’S TALK ABOUT SYSTEMIC POOR-FOLKS FUCKIN’

and not in the fun way

look

who knew this? is this information that is clearly delineated? has anyone’s boss ever mentioned this? i want to know. i work two jobs. minimum wage here in California is $8.45, one of the highest in the country, and i work fifty hours a week to make it by. why is it that i, who make food for other humans, do not make the money that a man that sits at a desk and pushes other people around does? why do the worst jobs pay the least? why are garbage collectors all working class when they do so much good for our society?

why?

"The free thinking and non-conformist behavior encouraged in the backwoods was a threat to..."

Mon, 18 Jun 2012 11:43:56 -0500

“The free thinking and non-conformist behavior encouraged in the backwoods was a threat to imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy, hence the need to undermine them by creating the notion that folks who inhabited these spaces were ignorant, stupid, inbred, ungovernable. By dehumanizing the hillbilly, the anarchist spirit which empowered poor folks [white and black] to choose a lifestyle different from that of the state and so called civilized society could be crushed. And if not totally crushed, at least made to appear criminal or suspect.”

- bell hooks, “Kentucky Is My Fate,” from Belonging: A Culture of Place (2009) (via kellypope)

tranqualizer: When eating organic was totally uncool Before...

Fri, 15 Jun 2012 00:29:24 -0500

tranqualizer:

When eating organic was totally uncool

Before hipsters got rooftop gards, my poor, refugee family ate that way because we had to. And we were ashamed

by Pha Lo

To me, the organic food movement has become dizzyingly, surreally chic. Farmers have become rock stars; the most exclusive restaurants name-check them so much you can almost see dirt on the menu. But before organic produce exploded into a $25 billion industry, before city gardening became cool, I grew up in a Hmong refugee community, living the urban organic lifestyle not because it was fashionable, but because we were poor. I couldn’t wait to leave it behind.

I grew up in Del Paso Heights, a mixed-race inner city of Sacramento, Calif. — the kind of neighborhood that had just two grocery stores between endless fast-food and liquor shops, and where we all paid for our groceries with food stamps. It was where we grew organic food and raised chickens in our backyards to survive. And where we did it in secrecy.

Like most Hmong in the United States, our community was from Laos, transplanted here after an alliance with the CIA turned our isolated tribe of farmers into mercenaries — a failed secret war against the Communist Vietnamese that left Hmong as the targets of ethnic cleansing. Lifelong farmers-turned-international refugees, the older generation was ill-prepared to thrive in modern America. They settled into inner cities where many turned to social services as safety nets.

I remember watching grown-ups lose their identities and self-worth, slip into depression and cycles of poverty, illness and suicide. These were clan leaders who once commanded the respect of entire villages, tough guerrilla soldiers trained by the CIA — like my father — and proud providers who had, without writing, committed to memory centuries of the best farming practices. And they were humbled, receiving welfare and food stamps because there was no opportunity then in urban America for their main skill. Still, they farmed in the city for two necessities: food and a wistful connection to the old way of life.

We grew crops in every plot of soil that hinted of fertility — parking lots, front lawns, even inside discarded paint buckets, which made terrific homes for lemongrass and chili peppers. When I was in elementary school, the families in our apartment building worked a farm just outside of Sacramento. Every person, every age, had a job. Meals were planned around what we gathered: We scraped fresh cucumbers, serving them with sugar over ice on hot summer days; we pounded the signature Hmong mix of hand-picked peppers, cilantro, green onions and lime in a mortar and served it as a dip for meat and sticky rice. I remember loving our imperfectly shaped cucumbers because I got to watch each one grow into its own unique shape and thought they all had more character than the “beautiful” ones wrapped in plastic at the grocery store. And I loved mustard greens, which grew in abundance once a year but could be pickled for year-round consumption.

We bartered with each other. We raised chickens in the backyard, letting them out to roam and feeding them by hand. We didn’t have a label for this back then, though now I suppose people call it “free-range,” and it costs more. We slaughtered our own hens, sometimes with rituals honoring the sacrifice of the animal’s life.

With the costs of vegetables offset by our gardens, all the families pitched in to buy a pig or cow from the closest farmer, dividing the meat. This way, we could also afford to buy rice.

But we had to keep our locavore tendencies secret. America’s food rules, which seemed to us to go against nature, left us fearful of punishment. At the time, exactly one person from our clan had attended an American college and became our cultural broker, translating to shamans the world of Western medicine, and to lifelong hunters and fishermen the rules of hunting and fishing. What license was needed for what, how many of what thing could be caught during which season, if you could take fruit from a tree depending on which side of a fence it hung. All of it was too complicated to keep straight, and so it felt safer to keep our food producing regimens to ourselves. I can’t remember how many times my father built, tore down and rebuilt the chicken coop, afraid that neighbors who heard crowing would report us.

“Don’t tell the Americans,” my mother would always say, and, eventually, as I grew into adolescence, I couldn’t agree more. I was afraid of being judged.

My mother sprinkled only fresh-cut grass in her garden, swearing by its ability to grow bigger and tastier vegetables. She often crossed dangerous lanes of traffic to get to a pile of lawn clippings. My sisters and I would jump out of the car to bag the grass, and we did it with the speed of a NASCAR pit crew, terrified of being seen by friends.

The parking lot of our neighborhood Kmart was a regular pickup spot for lawn clippings. In my teens, when merely being accused of shopping at Kmart was an epic embarrassment, you can imagine the horror I felt about being spotted stealing grass from its parking lot. “If anyone sees me, MY LIFE IS OVER!” I’d say. Unfortunately, dramatic teenage declarations of “life being over” didn’t fly in Hmong households, not when there would always be someone around to remind you of the time he narrowly escaped the death camps.

As the adolescent me tried to find her groove, navigating deeper into the treacherous social maze of an American high school, I tried to talk my mother out of picking cilantro and scallions from her garden, cleaning and separating and selling them for 50 cents a bunch at a local Hmong store. It never made her more than $20 a week, but she didn’t care. She was obsessed with the idea of doing something she knew how to do, something that could earn money.

My family searched for new places to grow food while I became increasingly afraid that outsiders would find out we lived in a replica Hmong village, built to resemble what the older generation knew as “home.” Then one day, I was outed by a classmate as a food stamp user as I stood in the collection line to count money for my mother. That was the day that I decided I hated everything about the way we got food — from the paint-bucket chili peppers to the communal pig, cut up in pieces, ready to be bagged and shared. I wanted to run away from this mess. I wanted to be one of the cool kids. I would feed myself like they do.

Now, as an adult, I don’t have a garden. Years after I finished college and was well into the working world, long after credit cards made checks obsolete at the grocery store, I still insisted on writing checks to pay for my brand-name groceries. The defiant child food stamp user in me still needs the validation that comes from putting pen to paper and declaring, in writing, that I earned the right to take this food home.

But who’d know that, just as I finally shed a former life of organic necessity, my mother would be the hip one? Now I go to the market and hear people boasting about the eggs in their backyards, or how much their garden looks like the one on the White House lawn. My best friend, also a former Hmong child gardener, laughs with me about collecting lawn clippings. If only we had had cool recyclable cloth bags with eco-friendly slogans, we joke. If only we could be heroic, claiming to be launching a food revolution. But for us, there was no room to think about glamour. That life just felt backward.

I imagine now how many “I told you so’s” my mother would impart on me if she could grasp the enormousness of today’s food movement: Pesticide-free produce, hand-fed chickens, cuisines boasting minimal ingredients all represent billions of dollars to be made. And, irony of ironies, now people’s food stamps can’t even cover the costs of organic and local produce at our markets.

But I stood recently at a popular farmers’ market in San Francisco, where I now live and where my relatives have a vegetable stall. Surrounded by a flurry of patrons enthusiastic about locally grown food, I felt … proud. Proud that Hmong farmers owned their own stalls, their tradition of necessity now trendy and profitable. That day, my uncle gave me a bag of cucumbers and tomatoes from his stall. He said he had heard all about my schooling and my travels, and that he was proud I had made it. But as I looked at my bag and at all the customers flocking to his stall, I couldn’t help thinking he was making it in his own right.

Pha Lo is a freelance writer/nutrition educator and teaches food budgeting skills to low-income parents.

stfuconservatives: Who does our “representative democracy”...

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 19:12:27 -0500

stfuconservatives:

Who does our “representative democracy” truly represent?

What did I JUST SAY