Using a sensitive technique known as atomic force microscopy, a team studying the mummified remains of Ötzi the Iceman found the oldest intact blood cells ever confirmed. What’s more, they found a protein called fibrin, which means that the 5,300-year-old Ötzi, who died after some sort of violent altercation, didn’t expire immediately after being wounded. Whodunit?
While we may never get to the bottom of Ötzi’s case, these observations may help modern forensic investigators interpret damaged and ancient blood samples from today’s crime scenes.
(For what it’s worth, my money is on Ötzi being involved in a crystal mammoth deal that went south. It’s hard out there for an Iceman. Now would be a good time to cue “Regulate” by Warren G.)
(via ScienceNOW)
Orchid mantis on Flickr.
(via ladyatheist)
“One of the things that I would always try to explain to people about what I learned from junior high and high school is that popularity in junior high and high school doesn’t buy you anything later in life.” - (x)
(Source: thrace-, via leylainwonderland)
Send CeCe Books!
CeCe can- and would love to!- receive books in jail. All books need to be new paperback copies sent directly from a publisher or an online bookstore. She can also receive newspaper and magazine subscriptions.
CeCe is very interested in drawing, music, fashion, dance, and pop culture. Please keep her interests in mind when sending her reading materials. The following is a list of items she would like to read. Please email mpls4cece@gmail.com if you send her a book or magazine so we can avoid sending duplicates.
- Runway Uncovered by Ester Vilaseca
- Transgender Liberation: A Movement Whose Time Has Come by Leslie Feinberg
- Transgender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman by Leslie Feinberg
- Trans Liberation: Beyond Pink or Blue by Leslie Feinberg
Books and other printed materials can be sent to:
Public Safety Facility
Chrishaun Reed McDonald #2012000296
401 South 4th Avenue
Suite 100
Minneapolis, MN 55415Books and magazines must be addressed using CeCe’s full information above, including the inmate number. The Bureau of Prisons website notes that publications should not be “detrimental to the security, discipline, or good order of the institution, or facilitate criminal activity” so use your best judgement about what you send into the jail.
For info on join CeCe’s book club, check out this page.
I don’t know what to do to best support CeCe right now, but one of my first thoughts is that we can’t let her be forgotten after her sentencing and during her incarceration. She will need our support throughout, and this seems one way to provide it. (I would probably be careful about sending the books on the above list, as right now there’s probably a high chance for several duplicates being ordered at once.)
You can also send CeCe letters! Click on the link up top that says “send CeCe books!” for mailing guidelines and instructions.
(via ladyatheist)
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Jennifer Lawrence Makes Great First Impressions
oh my gods she is so perfect xD
I want to go drinking with her *so badly.* Not, like, ‘Hollywood clubbing,’ but ‘go to a classy bar and just watch the employees faces get more and more appalled as we get increasingly drunk and our conversations get louder and more inappropriate.’
God, if only that second scenario could happen with me.
(Source: skipschoolsnortcoke, via ladyatheist)
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(Source: chikazoe, via teenmermaid)
As seen on Facebook. (posted by Homestead Survival)
A sweet lesson on patience.
A NYC Taxi driver wrote:
I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard
box filled with photos and glassware.
‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’
‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive
through downtown?’
‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..
‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.
We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.
‘Nothing,’ I said
‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.
‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.She held onto me tightly.
‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light.. Behind me, a door shut.It was the sound of the closing of a life..
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day,I could hardly talk.What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
(via meghanwithanh)
In its newest exhibition, the National Building Museum in Washington, D.C., takes on a topic near and dear to us all: home.
Running through the center of the exhibition, which includes actual wall frames and a spread of some 200 quintessential household objects, is a fabulous row of 14 celebrated American houses, reproduced as intricate scale models.
Photo: Fallingwater, Model by Studios Eichbaum + Arnold, 2010. Photo by Museum staff.
Ed note: Our video on Palladio: America’s architectural grandfather.
(via npr)
