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Washoe was a chimp who was taught sign language.

One of Washoe’s caretakers was pregnant and missed work for many weeks after she miscarried. Roger Fouts recounts the following situation:

"People who should be there for her and aren’t are often given the cold shoulder—her way of informing them that she’s miffed at them. Washoe greeted Kat [the caretaker] in just this way when she finally returned to work with the chimps. Kat made her apologies to Washoe, then decided to tell her the truth, signing "MY BABY DIED." Washoe stared at her, then looked down. She finally peered into Kat’s eyes again and carefully signed "CRY", touching her cheek and drawing her finger down the path a tear would make on a human (Chimpanzees don’t shed tears). Kat later remarked that one sign told her more about Washoe and her mental capabilities than all her longer, grammatically perfect sentences." [23]

Washoe herself lost two children; one baby died shortly after birth of a heart defect, the other baby, Sequoyah, died of a staph infection at two months of age.

more about Washoe:

after the death of her children, researchers were determined to have Washoe raise a baby and brought in a ten month chimpanzee named Loulis. one of the caretakers went to Washoe’s enclosure and signed “i have a baby for you.” Washoe became incredibly excited, yelling and swaying from side to side, signing “baby” over and over again. then she signed “my baby.”

the caretaker came back with Loulis, and Washoe’s excitement disappeared entirely. she refused to pick Loulis up, instead signing “baby” apathetically; it was clear that the baby she thought she was getting was going to be Sequoyah. eventually Washoe did approach Loulis, and by the next day the two had bonded and from then on she was utterly devoted to him.

*information shamelessly paraphrased from When Elephants Weep by Jeffrey Masson.

Even more interestingly, after Washoe and Loulis bonded, she started teaching him American Sign Language the same way that human parents teach their children language. It only took Loulis eight days to learn his first sign from Washoe, and aside from the seven that his human handlers learned around him, he learned to speak in ASL just as fluently as Washoe and was able to communicate with humans in the same way she could.

now if y’all don’t think this is the tightest shit you can get outta my face

reblog for the commentary

When I was 16, I had a fake I.D. and decided to go to a gay bar by myself because some friends bailed on me. While there, an older gentleman bought me a drink. He wasn’t a creeper, and he definitely wasn’t unattractive. I accepted the drink and began talking to him. No big deal. As the hour progressed, I felt myself feeling strange. I mentioned that I felt like I had a headache, and this guy helped guide me out of the bar. As we were walking down the street, the thought of, ‘Oh god, he’s drugged me, I’m going to die’ came to my head. I tried to get away, but I was so drugged up that I could barely walk, let alone speak. It also didn’t help that I had really large ‘goth’ platform shoes because I was going through a phase. Anyway, this guy brought me to his suv and began undressing me. As a final act of defiance, I hit him over the head with my platform shoe. He then punched me, and I remember thinking, ‘Why don’t they ever give workshops to gay guys about being victims of rape too?’ While I was as careful as possible, I never saw the guy slip something in the drink. I even watched the bar tender make the drink. Anyway, I lied there completely paralyzed while this pervert was lubing up. I locked eyes with his for a moment, and that’s when it happened. A very large and angry drag queen opened the door of the vehicle and beat the shit out of my attempted rapist. She and her other drag friends helped dress and care for me while the police arrived. I was saved by a group of guardian drag queens. They were basically the modern day ‘angels from heaven.’

sexual-phan:

hunter-avenger-consulter-grimm:

jawnn-locked:

visiovisusvidere:

sonicghost:

milesjai:

videk:

welcome-to-the-sinners-ball:

imgayitsok:

God bless drag queens.

I will always reblog this

Whenever drag queens are present, you best believe they will save the fuckin day.

Oh fuck yes.

image

If this isn’t on your blog I’m judging you.

Every time a bell rings, a drag queen gets his wings.

God bless drag queen omg

(Source: b-random)

metalheadswaltzing:

mcgonagirl:

kdaziz:

purgatoilet:

beenwandering:

help I’m having emotions about a cartoon antidepressant trying to be useful

DID YOU GUYS SERIOUSLY GIF AN ABILIFY COMMERCIAL 

yes but look at it, it cares about her and just wants to help her be able to function. It’s like “I know you’re sad. here, I’ll help you.”

LIKE OKAY THOUGH can I explain why this is exceedingly brilliant??  Because when anti-depressants work right, that’s what they DO.  They don’t make you happy or emotionless or unhealthy in any way, they make you FUNCTIONAL.  They make it so that a depressed person who can barely get out of bed can start to support themselves again and more importantly, start to THINK for themselves again without the permeating presence of depression.

Depression is a cyclical disease, that tells you to think a certain way, and, because you’re depressed, you generally believe it, and then things get worse and worse.  The ONLY thing anti-depressants do is to STOP that cycle in its tracks!!  Which is something to be ecstatic about and celebrated, even if you don’t realize it at the time, because when you’re depressed, getting out of bed is climbing Mount Everest.  Antidepressants help stop that cycle so that one day soon, getting out of bed can JUST be getting out of bed.  They don’t even expedite the recovery process in most cases, they just make recovery POSSIBLE IN THE FIRST PLACE.  So this little guy is portrayed with a fuckton more accuracy than I ever expected from a commercial.

It’s back and adorable

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