“The teacher of love teaches struggle. The teacher of lifeless isolation from the world teaches peace.”
— Karl Jaspers, Psychology of World Views (via philosophybits)
On this day, 8 March 1926, the predominantly female members of the Fur & Leather Workers Union in New York City went on strike, and were beaten by police. However they were undeterred and remained out until they won a 10% pay increase and a five-day working week. https://ift.tt/2Cap8OD
[ image description is screenshot o tweet by @cholo_commie that says, :did you know landlords hold literally thousand of vacant units across massive swaths of cities for the sole purpose of causing artificial price inflation on the housing market? all their property should be nstionalized and they should be imprisoned for crimes against humanity.” ]
on that note: this exists because of capitalism. we must organize collectively to collectivize our stuff. unfortunately killing, or imprisoning landlords does not defeat the system that encourages this behaviour by competition of private ownership.
Behold the tomb of Aeolis, the cheerful little dog, whose loss to fleeting fate pained me beyond measure.
Raeda[r]um custos numquam latravit inepte. nunc silet et cineres vindicat um- bra suos.
This guard of the coaches never barked unsuitably. Now he is silent and his shade protects his ashes.
Quam dulcis fuit ista quam benigna quae cum viveret in sinu iacebat somni conscia semper et cubilis o factum male Myia quod peristi latrares modo si quis adcubaret rivalis dominae licentiosa o factum male Myia quod peristi altum iam tenet insciam sepulcrum nec sevire potes nec insilire nec blandis mihi morsib(us) renides.
How sweet and friendly she was! While she was alive she used to lie in the lap, always sharing sleep and bed. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! You would only bark if some rival took the liberty of lying up against your mistress. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! The depths of the grave now hold you and you know nothing about it. You cannot go wild nor jump on me, and you do not bare your teeth at me with bites that do not hurt.
Portavi lacrimis madidus te nostra catella, quod feci lustris laetior ante tribus. ergo mihi, Patrice, iam non dabis osculla mille nec poteris collo grata cubare meo. tristis marmorea posui te sede merentem et iunxi semper manib(us) ipse meis, morib(us) argutis hominem simulare paratam; perdidimus quales, hei mihi, delicias. tu dulcis, Patrice, nostras attingere mensas consueras, gremio poscere blanda cibos, lambere tu calicem lingua rapiente solebas quem tibi saepe meae sustinuere manus, accipere et lassum cauda gaudente frequenter
Bedewed with tears I have carried you, our little dog, as in happier circumstances I did fifteen years ago. So now, Patrice, you will no longer give me a thousand kisses, nor will you be able to lie affectionately round my neck. You were a good dog, and in sorrow I have placed you in a marble tomb, and I have united you forever to myself when I die. You readily matched a human with your clever ways; alas, what a pet we have lost! You, sweet Patrice, were in the habit of joining us at table and fawningly asking for food in our lap, you were accustomed to lick with your greedy tongue the cup which my hands often held for you and regularly to welcome your tired master with wagging tail.
Source: Electronic Archive of Greek and Latin Epigraphy
I just thought I’d let you know, OP, that I am now SOBBING over dogs that have been dead for hundreds of years.
“His owner has buried the dog Parthenope, that he played with, in gratitude for this happiness (Mutual) love is rewarding, like the one for this dog: Having been a friend to my owner, I have deserved this grave. Looking at this, find yourself a worthy friend who is both ready to love while you are still alive and also will care for your body (when you die).”
Transcription & grave in Archaeological Museum - Istanbul
The council has convened and agreed that these were all the goodest dogs.
