Fan: When we first watch Supernatural we thought “he is really handsome” but then we found out that there were so much more than that, that you had so much more to offer. We think that a good actor can take you in a different place and is able not only to make you forget that you are watching an actor but also who makes you care about the character’s journey. And you really make people who watch you care about you and your character… and not just because you have a pretty face. You handle both tragedy and comedy with equal ability and your eyes speaks a thousand words even when you are saying nothing at all. So when Supernatural will end, don’t think about it as a conclusion, but as a stepping stone which will bring you to a bright future because you are Oscar material. [x]
so glad this came around again
Those tears in his eyes and him desperately trying to make a joke out of the situation so we wouldn’t notice them… Ugh never gonna be able to get over it
This always gets me. Because look how genuinely touched he is.
“When [Theodore Roosevelt] began his campaigns for a higher white birthrate, his daughter Alice mocked him by forming the Race Suicide Club, in which she and her friends exchanged birth control information.”
I never made a post about draft horses. :T They are the gentle giants of the horse world, sometimes growing as large as 20 hands and over 2000 lbs. The tallest horse in the world is an American-type Belgian horse named Big Jake (I think???).
A very big (but good) boy!
Despite their size, draft horses are known for their quiet, even temperaments, which make them good work horses. They were originally bred to pull wagons and plows, and they still do that. The most famous draft horses are probably the Budweiser Clydesdales, i.e. the horses in those Superbowl commercials that make us cry every goddamn year.
Draft horses can be ridden, and they are often crossed with lighter breeds, such as Thoroughbreds and Quarter Horses, to create tall, sturdy-boned, quiet sport horses.
Such horses were a common sight during foxhunts, as “hotter” breeds, like Arabians and Thoroughbreds, tend to lose their minds a bit in the chaos of the hunt. Draft horses can also be crossed with Mammoth Jack donkeys to create draft mules, which are also used to pull plows for the Amish.
Mammoth Jack donkey:
Draft Mule:
There are a lot of draft breeds, some more common than others. Many of the common ones are easy to tell apart from the others, but they’re all large-boned and tall, except for the draft ponies, such as Halflingers and Norwegian Fjord horses.
The Belgian
There are two Belgian horses, one that’s popular in Europe and another that’s very common in the US.
This is the European-type “Brabant” Belgian, which tends to be very thick boned and roan in color.
This is the American-type Belgian, which is lighter-boned and always sorrel/palomino in color:
Here is a Brabant Belgian mare pulling some shit:
A lot of draft horses really do enjoy pulling stuff, as much as a horse CAN enjoy doing anything that’s not eating grass and farting. Horse pulls are a common sight in Middle America, often done using Belgian horses. Here’s one of a team pulling 9200 lbs. They pull for a very short period of time, often only a few seconds.
Next up is the Percheron, which has a similar body type to the Belgians but are always black or dapple. They can be slightly more spirited than Belgian horses, with some demonstrating high stepping action.
They are not to be confused with Friesians, who have much more “feathered” legs and feet (long hair around the lower legs) and are lighter-boned. Friesians also don’t come in dapple colors, like the horse at the top of this post.
Clydesdales
Clydesdales are recognizable because they are a) always bay colored and b) almost always have four white socks and a blaze on their faces. They also have much more feathering on their legs than Percherons or Belgians. Clydesdales are more common in parades and the like because they tend to be slightly lighter than Percheron and Belgians, and because of this, they’re more agile and “showy”. You probably would not want to plow with a Clydesdale. You could, but their feathering means their feet get dirty much easier than a Belgians might.
Shire Horse
Shires come in a variety of colors, usually black or bay, and they are probably the most “feathered” horses of the popular breeds. They’ve got lots of fur on their feet.
Gypsy Vanner Horses
Gypsy Vanner horses got their start pulling Roma wagons, but now they’re mostly used in fantasy photoshoots, and you can see why. They are beautiful horses, definitely not the type you’d want toiling in the muck. They are almost always paint colored, which distinguishes them from Shire horses.
These are the main, most popular and commonly seen full-sized draft breeds, at least in the US. However, there are also draft ponies, the most popular of which is the Halflinger, which resembles a shrunken Belgian horse. They are ALWAYS sorrel/palomino colored, but their frame can vary. Some Halflingers are lighter-boned and more suitable for riding. Others are thicker-boned and better for pulling.
The other unmistakable draft pony is the Norwegian Fjord, easily recognized by the black stripe in the center of its mane, like a reverse ice cream sandwich.
This can lead to some creative hair cuts
So there you go. That’s a somewhat comprehensive review of draft horse breeds. Here is a size comparison for funsies, with the average riding horse in the middle.
@mothbug I believe this may pertain to your interests
Thats the prettiest donkey I’ve ever seen
Magestic beasties
HORSE KNOWLEDGE EVERYONE.
here are some more draft horse breeds, I know a lot of them since I just DREAM of owning a draft horse:
the Boulonnais
the Ardennais
The cob Normand
The Auxois
the Mulassier Poitevin
all of those are french breeds, and I could talk more about them and give you more draft breed names because horses are of my passions and especially draft horses, but I have to stop there XD
As someone who’s been in the middle of Harvey, Ike, Gustav, Katrina, Rita and probably any hurricane that’s hit Louisiana in my life, I urge you to not support the Red Cross. Every time they’ve come to “help” they’ve made it worse on the locals and the people they’re trying to give aid to.
For this I’ll use the most recent and most appalling, Harvey. As you probably know Houston was devastated by this storm. Where I live opened up our two biggest centers for the people that the Cajun Navy and other rescuers brought in. Of course the Red Cross took over these centers and within a few days everything crumbled.
People were I live are incredibly generous and helpful during events like this because we’ve all been through it many times. Every time there’s been a disaster in Louisiana is when you’ll see the community helping each other with anything they might need.
So duringHarvey, people here were treading flood waters and gathering all of the clothes, food, and hygiene products they could find. They took all of this to the centers and they started being turned away. They didn’t want to accept clothes donations unless they were brand new, which is appalling. These people left their homes only wearing the clothes on their backs which were covered in flood water, which contains many harmful bacteria. They weren’t going to care if there’s a mustard stain on a shirt, not as long as it was clean and dry. There were people who had been there for days and didn’t have shoes.
The most atrocious of it all is that they wouldn’t accept food people made. People here love to cook, we’re raised doing it. Being cooped up in a house for days on end with no work and the kids missing school meant many gumbo pots were being used. These people decided to donate it to the Red Cross, and it was thrown away. Even though they didn’t have enough food to feed the people there. Popeyes, a very popular franchise, had their employees go to work early and prepare food for the people at the shelter. The Red Cross threw it all away. Other restaurants donated hot food, and it was all put in the dumpster.
Through all of this they just wanted people to donate money. They had the news broadcasting about “families don’t want to be seen digging through clothes on a table to find new ones.” BULLSHIT, we’ve been through this before and clothes are clothes. Giving these people a voucher to Walmart isn’t going to help them when the closest Walmart is 15 minutes away and they don’t have a vehicle or a way to get there.
I’ve heard from so many places that the Red Cross shouldn’t be trusted, but now that they’ve pulled this shit in my hometown I know better. The local sheriff’s department got the go to chase off the Red Cross, and people from all over the city brought in hot fresh food for the people there. They got them all clothes and shoes and went and bought things for these people to make sure they were at least comfortable. The state then took over and transported the willing ones and all of the pets to Shreveport to a mega shelter where they’ll have more long term care as these other two storms come to be.
If you want to help with the effects of this storm, please find better places to donate! The Red Cross is the most popular and they’re not putting that money to good use. I don’t have links of places so if any of you do please add them here for people to see. It makes me sick to see this happening and I want to do what I can to inform people.
@helianthus21 excellent point that Dean has referenced the parent trap before!
5×04: 2014!Dean: Yes. I got a camp full of twitchy trauma survivors out there with an apocalypse hanging over their head. The last thing they need to see is a version of The Parent Trap. So, yeah, you stay locked down.
6×14: Dean: We’ve been Parent Trapped.
(Then also references Mannequin).
Nice 😀
Okay, so everyone is focusing on “The Parent Trap” part of this scene, but I focus more on “The Nun’s Story”.
“The Nun’s Story” is a movie about a nun who (even though she possesses real, strong faith) struggles with the rules of her convent, is several times punished for disobedience, is send on a mission, travels to Congo, and meets a male surgeon (”a genius and a devil, a bachelor and an unbeliever” who makes her question her calling – and has some very strong sexual chemistry with her). In the end she leaves her convent, and lives the rest of her life as a fullfilled civilian.
“On this faithful, autumn day, the nun called Sister Luke, under special and extraordinary circumstances, was released from her vows. She took leave from her convent forever because, in her own words, she was no longer a nun.”
Well, if it doesn’t remind us of somebody!
Ohh @helianthus21 yiss and @margarittet I just can’t wait I just can’t wait I just can’t wait for S13!!! Of course it’s common for nuns to have a man’s name in their more pious denomination, but isn’t it kind of lovely that it’s female/male in the main character’s name? I think it is. It’s quite lovely.
*whispers*
Sacred Oaths…..
Thank y’all for mentioning it! I was yelling in Tink’s chattybubbles earlier about this, like NONONONO! THE REAL PERFORMING DEAN THING IS HIM MENTIONING THE NUN’S STORY! THE ///COVER/// FOR THAT WAS THE FREAKING PARENT TRAP!!! And then I told her I’d write about it later (between my internet going out because of thunderstorms and me being generally grumpy because Amazon failed to deliver my copy of s12 today *SEETHES AGAIN* I hadn’t felt much like typing stuff. 😀
SO YES. THIS.
(I mean just go read the wikipedia page for The Nun’s Story and THIS was what Dean was interested in seeing… It’s depressing AF, she basically gets jerked around her entire life, has to fight for the mission she WANTED in life, was accosted by a mental patient convinced she was the Archangel Gabriel, constantly reprimanded for disobedience, forced to purposely fail a test to prove her humility, and in the end she asks to be released from her vows and leaves quietly through the back door in civilian clothing. THAT’S the movie Dean thought would be good… In an episode where Cas is MIA– and we know he’s in Heaven who expect him to ‘redeem’ himself through service and humility and whatever else they’ve been putting him through to prove his loyalty and obedience… I mean…)
So y’all keep blowing up my notes with the various Family Lore stories I’ve been telling, so I guess I should tell one on my parents now.
My Mother’s Father was part of the United Auto Worker’s Union, and during the 50′s and 60′s, was on strike a lot. My point is, grandpa got himself an entirely deserved reputation for being a sucker who loved animals, so people would dump thier pets on him. Hence, my mother grew up in a house with pets such as Picket the one-eyed tomcat, Tweety the Bald canary, Dummy the cat, Stupid Son of Dummy, Spooky Garbage Dog and Chiquita the Tarantula. Eventually Grandma put her foot down when Grandpa brought home Gerta the Saint Bernard.
I say all this because it provides some context for how the following occured.
Mom and Dad had just moved in together (my parents dated for six years and were engaged for 13 days, driving everyone on both sides insane), and unfortunately, My mother’s German Shepherd, Cops, has just passed away due to bone cancer. After mourning for a bit, Mom and Dad decided to get a dog together, as a couple.
For context, my father had never owned a dog in his life. His mother had ‘Pretty Bird” the budgie as a child but parrots are alien life forms, not pets.
So they go to the Palo Alto Animal shelter to adopt. The year was 1987, and at the time, Palo Alto was… not a great place. Lots of drugs, gangs and poor civic managment. Mom told me that she learned to identify different types of gunfire while living there. They get there, and mom explains that she’s always had a preference for Big Dogs, and the guy’s face lights up. Oh Yes, he says, We have a Big Dog. For expirienced owners, yep, adoptable today, here we’ll give you a discount even-
Somehow my parents were not suspicious about this.
They were shown to the Animal in question, a Gorgeous blue-sable beastie with pretty golden eyes who immediately pressed herself against the fence and gave them the best PUH-LEEEEEEASE TAKE ME HOME puppy eyes 100lbs of canine can do. Mom and Dad fall in love instantly. They sign all the paperwork and take her home for $10, and name her “Mazel” as in “Mazel Tov.”
Within the hour, it becomes clear that something is amiss.
Cops had lived with his kibble stored in a plastic garbage can in the garage for six years without incident. Mazel figured out how to open doors and got the locking lid off the can in six minutes, horking down about four pounds of the stuff before my mother notices that it’s been weirdly quiet. Most dogs bark at or chase squirrels. Mazel stalked and caught one the second day, presenting it to my mother like an offering. Mazel knew all her commands but would clearly stop to consider before obeying, and trained my dad to give her good treats within a week. The locks on the side-yard gate were undone, and she took a stroll around the neighborhood, but always retuned home for dinner.
After a week of gradually realizing that Mazel was smarter than most of the professors my mom worked with, they took her to the Vet for a routine checkup.
Dr. Hamada walked into the exam room, dropped the clip-board and said “Where the HELL did you get a Wolf?”
After a bit of prodding and a very-angry-dr.hamada-calling-the-pound, they determined Mazel was a high-content hybrid, probably with a husky, but was going to be a lil shit her entire life. OK, said Hamada, I don’t like destroying animals and you’ve got a lot of expirience with dogs, so I’m okay with letting you keep her, but you should keep her away from small children because her Prey Drive could kick in.
Two years later, mom got pregnant with me.
Mazel noticed instantly, and reacted by digging a large hole in the yard and catching even more squirrels for mom, because she needed the protein or something. That what you do when the Alpha Bitch is preggers, right? Dig a den and ply her with food? On the advice of my grandmother, my mom stayed overnight at the hospital once I was delivered, and dad went home with a shirt that had moms and my scent on it. Mazel spent the whole night puzzling over it.
The next morning, when mom came home with me, there was the sudden and instantaneous recognition of PUPPY!!!!!! :D:D:D!!!!! PUUUUUUUPPY!!!!!! and Mazel turned into the most aggressively maternal being I’ve ever met. Playing with me on the blanket, sitting under my chair at meals (I was a messy eater), sleeping under my crib, teaching me to walk by letting me hang onto her fur and shuffle around.
Dr. Hamada thought mom was a madwoman, until he saw me holding Mazel’s mouth open and sticking my face in so i could look at her teeth. He gave up when my mom announced she was pregnant with my sister.
I’m making living with a Wolfdog sound awesome, but it did come with some drawbacks:
Mazel did have to be muzzled at the vets, because she had Opinions about having things stuck up her butt.
HAIR. One of my chores growing up was to brush her out every week and I’d frequently end up with more hair than animal.
the only way we could reliably get her to stay in the yard was with an overhead tether with a STEEL cable, which she chewed through anyway.
Do you like waking up by being hit in the face with half a dead animal? No? Wolfdogs may not be for you.
More than capable of opening the fridge and eating everything if you’re not watching
Will get into everything if not otherwise occupied. Including eating your tax forms.
Howls along with sirens at 4 AM.
PROS of growing up with a wolfdog, as a small child in the 90′s
I was afforded a degree of freedom normally associated with a pokemon trianer. It was no big deal for me and my sister to walk three miles through my not-really-good neighborhood to the Froyo if I took Mazel with us. People tended to leave us alone when we had 100lbs of overprotective Apex Predator following us around.
WINNING at Pet Day at school. There wasn’t actually a compettion but Billy’s hamster sucks in comparison to an animal that is perfectly willing to demonstrate how she can snap an oak branch in half on command.
PTA moms losing their shit because Mazel would walk down the block by herself to come pick ups up from school.
Grew up associating the word “Bitch” with teeth and the willingness to rip an asshole’s face off for being rude. Never changed the definition.
Learned the I-Own-This Strut and Murder-Stare from the absolute best.
When she was 17, Mom and Dad decided to add another room on to the house. They rigged up the overhead tether so she could be outside but not underfoot for the contruction guys. One morning, mom came out to notice them all milling in the side yard entrance, muttering worriedly. When mom asked what was wrong, one of them explained that Carlos forgot to bring the Hamburger. What do you need a hamburger for? Asked mom, and they pointed down the side yard to where Mazel was sitting, doing her best Viscious Alpha Bitch Stare.
Apparently they’d never realized that she was on the VERY end of her tether there and couldn’t actually get to them, and had been scamming them for a big mac a day for a month. Mom had my six-year-old sister pull her away to show she wasn’t dangerous and tired her best not to laugh but kind of failed.
Mazel ended up living to be 19 and a half, and except for some minor arthritis, remarkably hale until the day she passed away in her hole in the back yard while taking a nap. I maintain that Death had to wait until she was sleeping to get a crack at her, or she would’ve taken his scythe for a chew toy.
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