Fun fact: Cheetahs only attack pray that runs
jesus that is good to know.
Yup, that’s the point you just stay still and let it do whatever the fuck it wants that doesn’t involved you getting eaten.
REALLY FUN FACT for big cats cheetahs are fucking docile as shit
my grandfather ran a cheetah sanctuary in south africa and he’d just lie with them and sleep among them and they’d rub against him and chirp at him they’re big fucking babies
Another Fun Fact: Cheetah’s are incredibly nervous animals. One of the (many) reason’s they’re going extinct is that cheetah’s are so sensitive and nervous, some of them are literally too nervous to breed. Other’s will breed, but stress themselves out so much, they’ll loose their cubs.
So zoo’s with breeding program’s had to figure out how to make Cheetah’s comfortable enough to first of all, get laid and secondly - not spazz themselves into miscarrying.
So what’d they do?
They gave the cheetah’s their very own Service Dogs!
The dogs make them feel safe, protected and secure!
AJHHHHFDDGHH SO PRECIOUS
—Dialogue (Excerpt, Not To Be A Beatle)
January 13th, 1969: As everyone waits for John and Yoko to arrive at the studio, Paul talks about John’s uncommunicativeness, and how he uses it as a defense to avoid speaking honestly or decisively about his own feelings. While Paul is convinced that Yoko provides something for John that The Beatles (read: Paul) can’t anymore, and hedgingly defends the couple to do what they will, the others suggest John doesn’t really want to sever his partnership with Paul, either.
NEIL: I’d just rather not say anything. It’s one of those situations.
PAUL: Yeah. [pause] Well, that’s – that’s the trouble you see, there, ‘cause that’s it. It’s like, with our – heightened awareness, the answer is not to say anything, you know. But it isn’t. ‘Cause I mean, we screw each other up totally if we don’t do that. ‘Cause we’re not ready for your heightened… vows of silence. [laughs; hapless] We’re really not! Like, we don’t know what the fuck each other’s talking about, when that – we all just sort of get—
NEIL: I think it’s just between the four of you, that get it. That’s what I’d pretend.
PAUL: Oh yeah, right, yeah. But you see, that’s it, that’s why John doesn’t say anything. ‘Cause he – you know, he just – there was something the other day, when I said, “Well, what do you think?” And he just stood there and didn’t say anything. And then – and I know exactly why, you know. I mean, I wouldn’t, if… [long pause] Somehow. You know, there’s nothing really much to be said about it. You just – we all just have to do it, and all that, instead of like talking about it. But – but if one of us is talking about it, it’s a drag if the other three aren’t. Because then it sort of throws you off. [inaudible; voice marking tape slate] I mean, we’ve just been talking about it now for a few years, you know. Like this…
MICHAEL: How long has this been around? Like a year?
LINDA: But that’s not it, anyway. It’s the four of them just getting together.
PAUL: [hesitating] But that’s – that’s not far off it, you know. I mean…
PAUL: I mean, Yoko’s very much to do with it.
PAUL: ‘Cause she’s very much to do with it from John’s angle, that’s the thing, you know. And I – the thing is that I – there’s— Again, like, there’s always only two answers. One is to fight it, and fight her, and try and get The Beatles back to four people without Yoko, and sort of ask her to sit down at the board meetings. Or else, the other thing is to just realize that she’s there, you know. And he’s not gonna sort of – split with her, just for our sakes.
—My Back Pages (7.20, Excerpt - Anything You Desire)
January 7th, 1969: As Let It Be filmmaker Michael Lindsay-Hogg discusses how The Beatles should hold their show, Paul tries anxiously to rouse up some enthusiasm from the rest of the group - encouraging George to see the fun in performing onstage again, and relating futilely to John’s interests - to little avail. Or response. (Note: This vague idea for a show eventually turned into the iconic rooftop concert. The song George is singing at the beginning is Bob Dylan’s ‘My Back Pages’.)
PAUL: But we had a lot more incentive, then.
GEORGE: Ah, but I was so much older then… I’m younger than that now…
PAUL: But we really don’t need— You know, those films of us [back then]– that was us doing it, you know.
GEORGE: [chagrined] Well, if that’s what doing it is, that’s why I don’t want to do it.
PAUL: Yeah. Yeah, I think—
GEORGE: Because I never liked that. It was always a drag.
PAUL: [upset] Yeah, but – right. You know. You know, uh— [faltering] You see, that – that takes the thing, and – and twists it a bit.
GEORGE: Well, it does, because I never liked that. That’s why I—
PAUL: Well, you see, nowadays, you’ve grown up. And you don’t have to do that anymore.
PAUL: You see, that’s it. You don’t have to do – put the pancake [makeup] up, and go out in front and sweat, and shake our heads, because we’re not that anymore. We’ve grown up a bit.
GEORGE: Because we’ve done that anyway.
PAUL: Yeah, right. So what I mean is, we did it then, but it doesn’t mean, like, to do it again, we have to do all that.
PAUL: Because now, like – for him to do it, is do it in a black bag with Yoko, you know. [to John] And – and you’re doing it. [pause] I suppose.
There is a tribe in Africa where the birth date of a child is counted not from when they were born, nor from when they are conceived but from the day that the child was a thought in its mother’s mind. And when a woman decides that she will have a child, she goes off and sits under a tree, by herself, and she listens until she can hear the song of the child that wants to come. And after she’s heard the song of this child, she comes back to the man who will be the child’s father, and teaches it to him. And then, when they make love to physically conceive the child, some of that time they sing the song of the child, as a way to invite it.
And then, when the mother is pregnant, the mother teaches that child’s song to the midwives and the old women of the village, so that when the child is born, the old women and the people around her sing the child’s song to welcome it. And then, as the child grows up, the other villagers are taught the child’s song. If the child falls, or hurts its knee, someone picks it up and sings its song to it. Or perhaps the child does something wonderful, or goes through the rites of puberty, then as a way of honoring this person, the people of the village sing his or her song.
In the African tribe there is one other occasion upon which the villagers sing to the child. If at any time during his or her life, the person commits a crime or aberrant social act, the individual is called to the center of the village and the people in the community form a circle around them. Then they sing their song to them.
The tribe recognizes that the correction for antisocial behavior is not punishment; it is love and the remembrance of identity. When you recognize your own song, you have no desire or need to do anything that would hurt another.
And it goes this way through their life. In marriage, the songs are sung, together. And finally, when this child is lying in bed, ready to die, all the villagers know his or her song, and they sing—for the last time—the song to that person.
You may not have grown up in an African tribe that sings your song to you at crucial life transitions, but life is always reminding you when you are in tune with yourself and when you are not. When you feel good, what you are doing matches your song, and when you feel awful, it doesn’t. In the end, we shall all recognize our song and sing it well. You may feel a little warbly at the moment, but so have all the great singers. Just keep singing and you’ll find your way home.
This is the most amazing thing I have ever read.
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL IM ALMOST TEARING UP
Reblog for eternity.