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neurolobe:

When the scumbags from Westboro Baptist Church showed up to protest at one of the funerals for a victim in Newtown [because they believe God is punishing Connecticut for legalizing gay marriage] this is what they ran into… Hundreds of Hells Angels, cops, and firemen that were there to make sure they couldn’t spew their hate. I LOVE this.

FUCK YES

(via smashedart)

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stunthusband:

goodstuffhappenedtoday:

Bikers Against Child Abuse make abuse victims feel safe

These tough bikers have a soft spot: aiding child-abuse victims. Anytime, anywhere, for as long as it takes the child to feel safe, these leather-clad guardians will stand tall and strong against the dark, and the fear, and those who seek to harm.

The 11-year-old girl hears the rumble of their motorcycles, rich and deep, long before she sees them. She chews her bottom lip, nervous.

They are coming for her.

The bikers roar into sight, a pack of them, long-haired and tattooed, with heavy boots and leather vests, and some riding double. They circle the usually quiet Gilbert cul-de-sac, and the noise pulls neighbors from behind slatted wood blinds and glossy front doors.

One biker stops at the mouth of the street, parks in the middle of the road and stands guard next to his motorcycle, arms crossed.

The rest back up to the curb in front of the girl’s house, almost in formation, parking side by side. There are 14 motorcycles in all, mostly black and shiny chrome. The bikers rev their engines again before shutting them down.

The sudden silence is deafening. The girl’s mother takes her hand.

The leader of this motorcycle club is a 55-year-old man who has a salt-and-pepper Fu Manchu and wears his hair down past his shoulders. He eases off his 2000 Harley Road King and approaches the little girl.

He is formidable, and intimidating, and he knows it. So he bends low in front of the little girl and puts out his hand, tanned and weathered from the sun and wind: “Hi, I’m Pipes.”

“Nice to meet you,” she says softly, her small hand disappearing in his.

….

The unruly-looking mob in her driveway is there to help her feel safe again. They are members of the Arizona chapter of Bikers Against Child Abuse International, and they wear their motto on their black leather vests and T-shirts: “No child deserves to live in fear.”

Read more: http://www.azcentral.com/news/azliving/articles/2012/07/13/20120713bikers-against-child-abuse-make-abuse-victims-feel-safe.html?page=1#ixzz214xfChtS

I’ll admit - this made me tear up. I’d never heard of BACA before. Now I want to find the WA and OR chapters, and give them some money. I can’t give them a lot - I live hand-to-mouth - but they deserve my support. Surviving abuse is not - *not* - easy. These bikers have taken on a nearly-impossible task, struggling to make it a little easier. Amazing. Absolutely wonderful.

The bikers aren’t looking for trouble. They are there so the kids don’t feel so alone, or so powerless. Pipes recalls going to court with an 8-year-old boy, and how tiny he looked on the witness stand, his feet dangling a foot off the floor.

“It’s scary enough for an adult to go to court,” he says. “We’re not going to let one of our little wounded kids go alone.”

In court that day, the judge asked the boy, “Are you afraid?” No, the boy said.

Pipes says the judge seemed surprised, and asked, “Why not?”

The boy glanced at Pipes and the other bikers sitting in the front row, two more standing on each side of the courtroom door, and told the judge, “Because my friends are scarier than he is.”

(via themamafox)

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thedailywhat:

Heartwarming Tearjerker of the Day: The sheer cliffs at the mouth of Sydney Harbor have long been a popular Australian suicide spot. But they’re about to get a lot more deadly — the local man who is credited with talking at least 160 people out of killing themselves since 1964 died this week.

Window-watcher Don Ritchie, known as the Angel of the Gap, could spot the troubled ones from his home across the street; he’d wander down to the cliff-edge and calmly ask, “Can I help you in some way?” More often then not, he could. He’d chat with them a bit, then invite them back to his place for a cup of tea.

“My ambition has always been to just get them away from the edge, to buy them time, to give them the opportunity to reflect and give them the chance to realize that things might look better the next morning,” Ritchie once said. “You just can’t sit there and watch them. You’ve got to try and save them.”

[advocatingprogress]

(via firebugg)

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abudaii:

This is a mule disguised as a library. He brings books and literacy to children in remote Venezuelan villages. Mules like him are called Bibiliomulas and they are perfect.

(via shergawia-deactivated20121108)

sherlocked-inside-the-tardis:

itscandidlycara:

panasonicyouth:

bulletbutt:

digitallyimpaired:

pandacows:

the pizza guy’s confusion makes this video so brilliant

oh my god

oh my god

slowly making my dream of breaking out into a musical number come true

bless this 

bless everyone involved

On the bucket list now. Absolutely. 

YES. OH MY GOD.

This is DIVINE.

(via hearthevoicessay)

thirddeadlysin:

A 9 year old boy - who built an elaborate cardboard arcade inside his dad’s used auto part store - is about to have the best day of his life.

this is the best thing i’ll likely watch all week long

(uh don’t be around other people if you cry when strangers do nice things for each other)

(via thecakebar)

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yayponies:

It’s a time-honored tradition at Navy homecomings – one lucky sailor is chosen to be first off the ship for the long-awaited kiss with a loved one.
Today, for the first time, the happily reunited couple was gay.

The dock landing ship Oak Hill has been gone for nearly three months, training with military allies in Central America.

As the homecoming drew near, the crew and ship’s family readiness group sold $1 raffle tickets for the first kiss. Petty Officer 2nd Class Marissa Gaeta bought 50 - which is actually fewer than many people buy, she said, so she was surprised Monday to find out she’d won.

Her girlfriend of two years, Petty Officer 3rd Class Citlalic Snell, was waiting when she crossed the brow.

They kissed. The crowd cheered. And with that, another vestige of the policy that forced gays to serve in secrecy vanished.

By Corinne Reilly
The Virginian-Pilot
© December 21, 2011 

(via frecklesandwings-deactivated201)

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Hi, this is Misha Collins of TheRandomAct.Org. […] We are going to build a community center. The community center is gonna house homeless orphans and it’s going to serve as a micro-lending center and as a school, and we’re also going to build a fresh water self-contained fish farm. I would like to invite you to join me and my friend, Matt Cohen, on our trip to Haiti to build a community center this summer. Check out the website to find out how you can be a part of this adventure, and come join us in Haiti.(x)

(via jared-swagalecki-deactivated201)

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theoneinthedirtytrenchcoat:

Guys. Guys. This is my favorite photo op. Of all time. Of all time.

WHY AM I SO HAPPY FOR THIS PERSON I’VE NEVER MET OH GOD 

(via mishasteaparty)

Human beings took our animal need for palatable food … and turned it into chocolate souffles with salted caramel cream. We took our ability to co-operate as a social species … and turned it into craft circles and bowling leagues and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. We took our capacity to make and use tools … and turned it into the Apollo moon landing. We took our uniquely precise ability to communicate through language … and turned it into King Lear.

None of these things are necessary for survival and reproduction. That is exactly what makes them so splendid. When we take our basic evolutionary wiring and transform it into something far beyond any prosaic matters of survival and reproduction … that’s when humanity is at its best. That’s when we show ourselves to be capable of creating meaning and joy, for ourselves and for one another. That’s when we’re most uniquely human.

And the same is true for sex. Human beings have a deep, hard-wired urge to replicate our DNA, instilled in us by millions of years of evolution. And we’ve turned it into an intense and delightful form of communication, intimacy, creativity, community, personal expression, transcendence, joy, pleasure, and love. Regardless of whether any DNA gets replicated in the process.

Why should we see this as sinful? What makes this any different from chocolate souffles and King Lear?

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cinedit:

Richard Dawkins is a man who sees beauty in nature’s every form.

Have you seen this new Bonjela product doing the rounds? It’s got some stupid name like “Bonjela Once” or “Bonjela Unlimited”. It’s essentially a cotton bud with liquid Bono in the tube. When you snap the tube, it secretes the magical liquid (via gravity) onto the cotton tip for easy application to the affected ulcerised area.

If you ask me, this is complete rubbish. Crapola. Why go to all the effort of snapping and applying with a cotton bud? If you really want to use a cotton bud, you’ll do the smart thing and adhere some traditional Bonny J to a cotton tip, then stick it in your gob. What a load of horseshit. Why anyone would purchase this product is totally beyond my reasoning.

And another thing, Bonjela Cool? More like Bonjela Shite. You want the hard stuff, the good java. You want to jump in at the deep end and apply something that’s gonna burn so good. “Mummy, can I use Bonjela Cool?”. No, you little a-hole, just use the normal stuff like everyone else. You’re not special, you’re scum of the earth. Look at you, getting ulcers, you dirty little beggar. You unwashed scummer. You unclean child.

Bonjela is as Bonjela does, so stick that in your pie hole.

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catsiel:

photo credits:supernatural seriously awesome!!! @ FB & thenizu @ tumblr

(via fuckyeahdeancas)

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(via tiportiff)