True that!

True that!

It was a sunny summer afternoon, July 29, 1925. Harry Warnecke, a photographer for the New York News, got a phone tip that a cat trying to carry its kittens home was tying up traffic because a policeman had stopped the cars on a busy street (Centre Street) to allow it to cross. Warnecke arrived after the event was over, but he convinced the policeman and cat’s owner to allow him to recreate the scene. Despite the policeman’s initial reluctance, the cat’s inclination to cross the street diagonally instead of in front of the cars, and furious honking motorists, Warnecke finally got his shot — after three attempts.
When the picture ran, the New York News was besieged with letters and requests for prints. A few days later, the helpful policeman received a letter of commendation from the Police Commissioner.

It was a sunny summer afternoon, July 29, 1925. Harry Warnecke, a photographer for the New York News, got a phone tip that a cat trying to carry its kittens home was tying up traffic because a policeman had stopped the cars on a busy street (Centre Street) to allow it to cross. Warnecke arrived after the event was over, but he convinced the policeman and cat’s owner to allow him to recreate the scene. Despite the policeman’s initial reluctance, the cat’s inclination to cross the street diagonally instead of in front of the cars, and furious honking motorists, Warnecke finally got his shot — after three attempts.

When the picture ran, the New York News was besieged with letters and requests for prints. A few days later, the helpful policeman received a letter of commendation from the Police Commissioner.

Morning Stuff

  • Mom: I'll bring you a small bowl of muesli.
  • Me: Make sure it's a small bowl, not a big one! If you bring me a big one ill throw muesli on you!
  • Mom: Ayy! It's not confetti!

Haha Bollywood

scotchtrooper:

Important Catnip PSAs

Not even once.

(via breadcats)

I’m a woman. I think. I hate. I lie. I cheat. I’m not a virgin. I’m not a whore. Because, you know, women aren’t either virgins or whores – they are a complex mix of both. We have vices and virtues. We are not White or Black, we are fifty thousand shades of grey. We are complex. We are human. We have urges, as natural as yours. Sometimes, we don’t have them too. You cannot police us. We do not owe anything to you. You do not own us. We are beautiful, we are ugly. We are saints, we are murderers. We are everything; we can be everything, a complex mix of everything.Accept it; deal with it, live with it.

I’m a woman. I think. I hate. I lie. I cheat. I’m not a virgin. I’m not a whore. Because, you know, women aren’t either virgins or whores – they are a complex mix of both. We have vices and virtues. We are not White or Black, we are fifty thousand shades of grey. We are complex. We are human. We have urges, as natural as yours. 

Sometimes, we don’t have them too. You cannot police us. We do not owe anything to you. You do not own us. We are beautiful, we are ugly. We are saints, we are murderers. We are everything; we can be everything, a complex mix of everything.

Accept it; deal with it, live with it.

I’m afraid of Americans

I’m afraid of Americans