“
Since its installation Mr. Trash Wheel has intercepted over 3 million pounds of trash, making the harbor not only cleaner and more beautiful, but also a nicer home for local wildlife as well as waterfront businesses. Four different wheels now sit in Baltimore’s rivers, and soon more will be helping clean other cities across the globe.
“
…
“If you go to MrTrashWheel.com you can actually download a spreadsheet of every dumpster we’ve pulled out of the harbor over the past seven years, with an estimate of different types of trash that was in that dumpster,” Lindquist said. “We know that we’ve pulled out over a million styrofoam containers from the harbor, and that’s the sort of information, data and photos that we share with our elected officials to let them know just how big of a problem this is.”
They’re also hungry, with a reputation for being able to gobble up larger pieces of trash, including a guitar, a full-size beer keg and on one occasion a ball python who escaped from its owner and made a home for itself on the warm battery casing of one of the Trash Wheels. Because the Trash Wheels don’t harm animals, they’ve become a kind of refuge for creatures seeking a safe place to nest. A mother duck once laid its eggs under the conveyor belt, and fish enjoy the oxygenated water that’s created as the wheel turns in the river during the summer.”
…
“
If you’re a city leader or official, you can adopt your own Trash Wheel at MrTrashWheel.com.
“
ALRIGHT EVERYBODY TIME TO CONTACT YOUR LOCAL OFFICIALS
I can’t get over the fact that both Aziraphale and Crowley desperately try to protect each other, but do so in opposite ways.
Aziraphale, who is afraid of falling but even more afraid of what Hell might do to Crowley, tries to protect them both by pulling away, putting distance between them, even straight up putting an end to their relationship if he thinks he needs to.
Crowley, like the hopeless romantic he is (not that he’d ever admit it), is on the the other hand constantly working on the idea that so long as they’re together, he’ll find a way to make things work. He’s always on guard, circling Aziraphale ready to protect him, he wants Holy Water so that he’s ready to fight back, and straight-up tells Aziraphale to run away together, even if it’s completely stupid and suicidal, because that’s all that matters to him.
My favorite thing about this is that Crowley is on guard, protective, ready to battle. That is, he protects Az like an angel would.
Aziraphale uses lies, evasion, and deceit to shelter Crowley. That is, he protects him like a demon would.
Ok this is the best addition you could possibly make.
1. The dull clang as you place the sword across the dead king’s iron knees, which has over time become the sound of the last bolt on the bunker door.
2. The dusty smoke from the barrow where the bones are burnt, which has over time become that first sign of the electrical problems in the data centre.
3. The mingled moon- and candle-light at the feast under the pines, and its crushed-grape mead scent, which have become nighttime phonelight filters and novelty bath oil.
4. The buzzing of angry ghosts pinned inside an oak by splinters of volcano-glass, which has become the distant warning of inbound missiles.
5. The damp smell of the checkerboard-room in the tower as the thunderstorms roll over, which has stayed the same through the years; the only difference being the ease with which travellers may get to that place or leave it.
6. The uneasy comfort with which you hear the music of the distant fiddler, knowing that it is not you he is coming for, knowing that you are immune; this being now the sound of engines in the night, engines and knocking, knocking and silence.
7. The slap of feet on the lakeshore at dusk, as the fog sets in; although the fog is warmer now and there is the dragging rasp of dry grass behind it, the main difference being, are the footsteps are coming or going?
8. The silver sparkle of the fish beneath the cave gate; whose colours and magic have been drawn into the silver screen and forced through technicolor light, concentrating the souls hidden beneath, everything becoming a shower of pixels.
9. The weight of the books, surprising, amazing even after everything had crawled out of them; this now being the weight of that small device, new and mysterious and gunmetal grey and dense as memory, with a rainbow miracle at its heart.
I reblogged this a few hours ago, but I will reblog it again, because I just feel this SO STRONGLY.
This. I’ve been called resilient by people who are trying to complement me but I don’t want to be complemented on how well I handle awful shitty traumatic experiences that keep happening over and over and over
Amen to all of this.
So tired of hearing this word. The term “resilient” has been weaponized.
I truly am obsessed with how Knives Out was like. Hello Daniel Craig, man who has spent the past two decades of his career being alternately beaten up and objectified playing an action hero with no personality. Would you like to please put on a shirt and an incomprehensible vaguely Texan accent and flex your character acting dark comedy muscles as well as your pecs for a while. And he’s like BOY WOULD I and they made a work of art. Also love that they put Chris Evans in sweaters. Get your beefcakes then dress them nice make them soft and give them some bonkers character work to do it’s what cinema needs more of
I love that several people have responded to this with “op I forgive you cause you’re Scottish but that’s not a Texan accent” which is fair thank you I appreciate it but no two people have agreed on what accent it is which is also Absolutely fair and hilarious as a reaction to this film
Cannot stress enough that I do not know what the fuck a foghorn leghorn is but literally a hundred people have said it to me so far so I’m assuming it’s important to, like, Americans
