If I were going to describe the perfect contraceptive, it would go something like this: no babies, no latex, no daily pill to remember, no hormones to interfere with mood or sex drive, no negative health effects whatsoever, and 100 percent effectiveness. The funny thing is, something like that currently exists.
The procedure called RISUG in India (reversible inhibition of sperm under guidance) takes about 15 minutes with a doctor, is effective after about three days, and lasts for 10 or more years…
Oh, and when you do decide you want those babies, it only takes one other injection of water and baking soda to flush out the gel, and within two to three months, you’ve got all your healthy sperm again.
The trouble is, most people don’t even know this exists. And if men only need one super-cheap shot every 10 years or more, that’s not something that gets big pharmaceutical companies all fired up, because they’ll make zero money on it (even if it might have the side benefit of, you know, destroying HIV).
signal boost
DUDE
dude
dude
DUDE
can this replace the normal contraception methods we have pls
This has existed for YEARS. They ran an article about it in WIRED magizine but I don’t think anyone read it .-.
Maybe more reblogs then? Up to a million at least. We have this technology to get the word out and change the world.
This happened a few years ago and I was living in Zimbabwe at the time, and I was having a pretty bad day, I was going to see my auntie who lived about 400km away from me. If youre african you’ll understnad that this was no small journey. So I got in my car and set off and about 3 hours into the journey i came across a Dude by the side of the road who was going in the same direction, so out of the goodness of my heart i said jump in. we go to talking and he happened to be going to exact same village as me and he knew my auntie!.
Half an hour passes and we’re making polite chit chat and reminiscing about old times in zimbabwe, when all of a sudden he tell me to pull over, so I do. he runs out of the car and starts making wretching noises, so i assume he’s throwing up, its dark at this point so i cant really see much, so i go check on him ( first mistake). I get out and go to his side expecting him to be there but he’s not…..Then I here someone behind and me and before i know it im unconcious! so I wake up a couple hours later( iknow this becuase the sun was coming up at this point) without my car, clothes or wallet. so im thinking great. i look around and see im on some farmland wearing the giys clothes. SO i start walking in no particular direction and eventually come across a settlement.
I explain to them my situation and they tell me that the nearest main road is at least a good half a days walk from where I am and they dont get many cars coming through this part but they heard one last night ( which might be our thief). I start walking in the direction they point me in and after what felt like forever i come acroos a road, so I pitch up and start waiting, ( now i know most of you are thinking why not call someone, i had no phone with me and I dont have the best memory so I didnt know any numbers that would come in handy). after a couple of hours a car stops and lets me hitch I let him know the situaion and he says we’re in the complete opposite direction of my intended destination but he’s willing to drop me close enough to walk the rest of the way to which I thought great!
its takes a good two days to get there and he drops me off and i say my goodbyes to my driver, I take down his number so i can repay him later on. At this point im starting to recoginise my surroundings, I walk for a few miles and as im getting closer to my aunties i can here a lots of singing and what appears to be a large crowd which i though was strange. Im about 100 feet from the house and i see my Son which again i thought was strange because he was meant to be in school at this time, but instead of running to me and hugging me as he normally does…he runs away screaming to my complete bewilderment. I get to the the gate and all of a sudden the large crowd alerted by my sons scream has stopped singing and is stood silent. my wife appears and starts to run towards me hugging and kissing me like Ive been gone for months. My auntie appears and immediately faints when she sees me.
I still have no clue whats going on at this point and im exhausted, so we rush to get my auntie inside and I see my picture ontop of a large box that resembles a coffin sitting in the living room….
So it turns out that the guy who robbed me and made off with my car my wallet and all my clothes was in a car crash so bad that they couldnt identify the body and because the only things they could use to identify him was my wallet, they assumed it was me that had died in the crash. since there was no body of sorts they could arrange the funeral preety quickly and that is what I had stumbled upon. My son still has nightmares to this day and and my wife has told me never to pick up a hitch hiker ever again.
TL;DR Got carjacked, robber died and family thought it was me, they arrange my funeral and I somehow manage to stumble upon my own funeral.
Random Headcanon: The reason the Wizarding World in Harry Potter uses such arse-backwards technology isn’t cultural elitism. (Well, not entirely.) Rather, it’s because if you enchant anything more complicated than a screwdriver, it tends to become sentient over time. Devices that use electricity are particularly bad for this, and almost always “wake up” eventually. Arthur Weasley’s car going rogue and running off to live in a forest is actually a fairly favourable outcome; the students still tell horror stories about what happened to the guy who smuggled in (and subsequently enchanted) a digital wristwatch.
this is the best answer to this plot hole i’ve ever heard
I guess it’s time to blacklist Bucky Barnes too, because that “what if a little girl recognizes him at the Smithsonian exhibit, because girls can have heroes too” post is just pissing me off now because what about girls whose heroes are girls, is that fucking allowed ever or does literally everything have to be about Bucky Barnes including the admiration and aspiration of young women?
What about the teenager who recognizes Natasha at the mall because Black Widow is not exactly S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best-kept secret after New York and a CHI straightener and a hoodie is not going to change that, and her first instinct is to elbow her friends and maybe go ask for an autograph, but then she notices the pace and the smile and the perpetually-scanning gaze and realizes Black Widow is on a job, holy frick, cover ops in Fashion Centre at Pentagon City, wait until absolutely no one hears about this, but she puts herself on a course that will pass Romanoff and gives her the tiniest of nods, and Black Widow winks at her, and she walks on and feels like a superspy herself for the next handful of days until the S.H.I.E.L.D. filedump, when she stays up and reads and reads and reads, and later when she’s writing her term paper, and then later when she’s sitting in her Declassified Operations elective, and later still when she’s across the table as Director Hill reviews her qualifications, she is thinking, “I met Black Widow in the mall and kept her secret; there is nothing I can’t do”?
I want someone to write a book where Mermaids are the women thrown off ships when the sailors got afraid because having a woman on the boat is bad luck. And as they sink to the bottom, legs tied together, they change slowly until they can breathe, until they can use their tied up legs to swim. And they drown sailors in revenge, luring them in by singing in their husky voices still stinging from the salt water they breathed.
someone please write this
“Please, don’t do this!” her voice comes out hoarse, cracked. The men leer at her, their gazes cold.
“Storm is comin’ now” the captain says. He is the worst, because in his eyes there is regret. Compassion. Pity. He doesn’t want to do it. Not like the others do. But that won’t stop him.
“Told your father a ship is no place for a girl,” he says. “Told ‘im to find another vessel, told ‘im to just keep you home, if e’ had ta. But did he listen? If you want someone to blame, miss, blame him. Tha ocean is cold, cold and cruel. And she ain’t gonna let us through this without payment, without a cost.”
The wind blows his gray hair back from his face, and he nods at one of the crewman - the one who’s eyes always linger on her for too long - and he steps forward and jabs Alice in the side with a paddle from one of the rowboats. She cries out, even though she doesn’t want to, even though she wants to scream instead, scream and curse the way a lady of her standing is never meant to do. She wants to curse them all to a watery grave and watch as they suffer.
She tries to move, tries to run past them, to break the rope binding her legs at the ankles through sheer power of will. She fails.
The crewman jabs at her again, and she spits at him. The glob of saliva hits him on the face, spittle clinging to his sun-tanned skin. His crewmates laugh.
Alice realizes her mistake too late.
His eyes darken, he steps forward - and he strikes her across the face with the paddle so hard she’s twisted around, so hard she sees black and careens of the gangplank and plummets to the dark, thrashing water below.
The captain was right: the sea is cold. Colder than any hell she’s ever imagined. Colder than the time she fell face first into a deep puddle on the street in the dead of winter. She feels the ice flood her mouth, fill her lungs, turn every vein and bone bitter blue with frost. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move.
The water tosses her against the hull of the ship and she feels her skull crack against the worn wood. The world fades, and she begins to die…
She remembers the sea, through the darkness. Remembers tossing her friend Lydia into the waves at the beach, remembers their laughter as Lydia pulled her in as well. She remembers dunking her head under, feeling the rush of cold fill her up as she became lighter than she’d ever been, became part of the water.
‘The sea is cold,’ she remembers the captain saying. Yes, she thinks, but I am colder.
And the ocean? she realizes. The ocean is her sister.
She feels it filling her up, feels it caressing her body, enveloping her. Not killing her, but cradling her. A sister holding up her own blood, a mother, soothing her wailing child, kissing the hurt away. A goddess, hearing the prayers of her devoted believer, and answering them.
I have salt and seawater in my soul, Captain. I will show you how cold these waters can be.
She feels the edges of her body fading, feels herself stop being a me and become a we, become an us, become every drop of water and every clump of foam and every weed and every wave. Feels herself changing.
Her dress is pulled away by the waves, button by button, seam by seam. The sea strips her, soothes her skin. She feels herself swaying, feels her injuries healing. Feels herself become something more than a scared girl or a single spot of death in a pool of life, as her body flares like a fire, as her legs brush together, as they begin to fuse…
She feels herself heal, and she feels herself change.
When it is over, she is bare, but she feels no shame. Her tail twists in the water beneath her, swaying, more natural than her legs ever felt. Stronger, too. She runs her hand over the dark blue scales, the same shade as the surface in a storm. She feels herself smile.
Siren, she thinks, mermaid. Sister of the sea.
The captain was right; a ship is no place for a woman. This is the place for a woman.
And when she drags him screaming down into it, he will realize: the ocean may be cruel…but her sisters are worse.
Alice smiles again, and begins to swim after the ship fading into the distance.
