I’m determined to beat my ex-best friend.
Not in a physical way.
We were best friends for a couple years, and our sons were born just a couple months apart. We both are cake decorators and worked together at a bakery. She learned all of her skills from me at the bakery.
We have since both stopped working there and started to do cakes at home. I had a second baby, so I stepped away from it for a while and was a stay at home mom. She blew up in business.
One day, I had asked my husband if he cared if I went over to her house. He said he’d rather I stay home and spend time with family. She called him an a-hole, so he retaliated and said “especially not if she’s going to be a b—ch”.
A week went by and I didn’t think anything of it and noticed we hadn’t texted. She told ne that she was trying to take a step back because she was upset that I didn’t defend her to my husband. She said she wasn’t going to stand for that.
I completely understood where she was coming from, but he’s my husband and she attacked first. After a long talk, she decided she didn’t want to be friends anymore. I was confused but it was fine.
The next day, she sent me a text telling me that I was a horrible friend and never there for her. I decided to block all communications from her.
Every now and then, I see how popular she is with baking and cake orders. I get genuinely jealous and feel this deep need to beat her at it. I want to be popular and successful. I am so determined to kick ass.
I feel like a bad person for wanting to take her business but I also feel like she wouldn’t be where she is if it weren’t for me, and it makes me upset that she harnessed those skills and then took off.

Let me paint a picture for you.
Within a dark basement room, illuminated only by the pale blue of a setting sun, dusty paper and cardboard covers the floor, some of the paper has math equations and some has notes on history, some paper talks of the current economy and the government. On the floor, faint music can be heard, it blares the distinct sound of heavy metal and rock, but where is it?
In the back left corner sit two gerbils, one beige and one grey, the top of the 50 gallon tank collects dust, they may not have much in terms of human interaction, yet they have all they need inside the cage, a perfect bedding depth that is changed weekly, a big wheel, a sand bath, and all homemade cardboard toys from safe non-toxic glues.
Near the entrance to the room a love seat presses against a blue wall, yet this couch has not been sat on in weeks, instead it is home to more paper and pencils as well as half finished crochet projects that have been tossed to the side as they have never been finished.
To the far left side of the room, a fireplace can be seen, however, this fireplace has not had any fire in a long time, inside it hosts a wide variety of cobwebs, while ashes and dust scatter the bottom of it.
To the far right side of the room an old worn down altar can be seen, upon first glance the table could be mistaken for antique, yet on closer inspection you would find it is merely in awful condition. Around the table a wide variety of candles, paper, and dusty jars containing different ingredients are found. The candles come in black, blue, red, and yellow, as well as green, pink, orange, and brown. The papers are covered in chicken-scratch writing in what appears to be another language. Yet all of them list the same things, spells, the language is a mere alphabet known as Theban. The jars contain egg shells and snail shells, charcoal and ashes, colourful stones and preserved flowers, needles and rusty nails.
The centre of the room is home to a wall-mounted television, the last time the screen changed was the early morning, beneath the television is a cedar chest, on top of the chest you will find granola bar wrappers and peels of various fruits as well as pop cans and water bottles, beside the garbage is old dishes, mugs that have old half drank coffee and plates covered in maple syrup from old waffles and pancakes, this is easily the most lived in part of the room.
A few feet away from the chest, and next to the altar is a sofa, it seems to be the reason paper covers the floor as every time the cushions move a paper falls to the floor. On the far left side of the sofa, near the entrance to the room sits a 15 year old fat boy with messy blonde hair. Caked on grease covers his face as he stares down at a math sheet, a pen in his right hand and a calculator in his left.
The boy is attempting to solve math equations, yet he is so burnt out, that despite reading the question over and over the words do not seem to make sense. The boy looks down at his wrists, pink shiny scars stare back, a reminder of what happened.
His mind flashes memories, he remembers waking to police at 5, he remembers watching his brothers fights, he remembers the time people attempted breaking into his house to kill his brother, he remembers everything.
He remembers his mother saying she wishes she never had him.
The boy feels sick now, a knot in his stomach and he looks at the calendar hung across the room, he counts 18 days left of school.
The knot tightens, for the coming summer does not mean a time of relaxation and recovery, it means fighting and stress. This homework does not symbolize a chance at passing, it symbolizes a failing future.
He reads the question again, “Solve using either elimination or substitution. Be sure to write a therefore statement. Check the solution using a LS/RS chart for both equations.
4x - 3y = - 2
2x + y = 8”
He knows what to do, all he has to do is pick up the pencil and write, but he seems to be frozen, staring at the page.
A lady walks down the stairs, “Are you doing your homework?” She asks.
“Yeah… Yeah, sorry I’ll get to it.” He starts writing but stops, the steps to solving it have gone, he’s forgotten everything.
The lady walks away, angry, the boy lifts his pencil, he swiftly lowers it to his ankle, he lifts his pant leg and slices, the burning sensation of a scratch covers his leg as it begins to form a long red line, it matches all the others, scars and scabs, scratches and cuts. Fresh and dry blood.
A sense of relief fills the boy, he lifts his pencil and goes to solve the equation, but again, he forgot it.
Instead he picks up his phone and begins to type, he describes the room he is in, he describes what he just did.
The lady comes back, it’s his mother, yet he doesn’t consider her one, she screams at him, tells him to get back to work, he heard the words, but they don’t seem to make sense, as if his brain has stopped translating the language.
And he describes it as it happens.
And then he posts the story as he feels fresh blood from the new cut trickle down his leg.

My sons birthday is approaching just over a month and was looking for any bakery outside of Publix’s that does birthday cakes anyone can recommend.
Wanted to do a Elmo/Sesame Street them BD cake.
Thank you!

Their exchange carried them through the week-night 'til the sun turned red. The big blaze was setting on Bull Creek, & they had gotten drunk enough to prove it. Turner hunched over his hickory countertop, ice rattling in his empty glass. His Stetson hung low, his gray fuzz suspended over the table's fine wooden ridges.
At his home that evening was kindred spirit, Digby Jones, running the opposite end of the counter. Another old man clinging to the dark hair of youth. He sat back on the creaky barstool, lifting up his pint to polish off a bit more whiskey. Alcohol was hard on the ol' liver for Jones, ever since he cleaned up his act. He was still soaking up his rye.
"Awful nosy people 'round here, then." Turner muttered. Jones fought to keep him grounded. "Ain't that the truth. Either that, or ya really do got some'n fancy in that ol' hatch."
The banter caught a coy wheeeeeeeeeeze from the man, pulled from his mix of pondering & drunken stupor. Jones beamed at his grin. "No, I ain't got nothin' in that cellar. Just more of this shit!" Turner raised his glass for emphasis. Jones laughed, his bud backtracking into offended confusion.
"Now-- who's even sayin' all that? Who's got business in my floorboards?" He waved a perplexed hand. Jones pressed his palms into the hickory, tapping the table as he leaned in. "Isaac reckons it's some'n to do with Dean Whitley's daughter!" He reeled his head with a cackle. Turner pounded the counter with a balled fist.
Gruff teeth-grinding spat out his mouth. "Damnit, I knew it. I done told that boy..."
"Oh Lawrence, say it ain't so! You, with the paper-man's daughter?"
Rolled eyes. "C'mon, Digs, it's not like that." Jones' laugh drug on & dried up. "I know, I know. It doesn't sound like you anyway, Lawrence. Not with your Catherine expecting, now." His burned-out chuckles left in a sigh. But Turner had said nothing. By then, he was clasping the countertop with both hands, pinning Jones' attention with dry eyes.
He had already given up his oath to secrecy.
"Do you really wanna know?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The wooden cut-out raised, peeling back on its iron hinges. A lantern passed through, carried by two boot sets. The hatch closed.
They stepped past crisscross shelves with moonshine décor. In a corner, Jones outlined rods & a bucket hat sat on a barrel. Remnants of Turner's fishing days in the south-east. He trailed in pace with the brother, stepping 'round a wood beam here, over a canyon portrait there.
The journey stopped with the lantern sat atop a dresser. Jones stood over Turner's side. His wrinkly fingers slid the top nook back, unveiling a patterned chest in the dim gas-light. The top lifted off, & he gently plucked the contents of a red bandana, sitting it by the lantern.
There was silence. Still, Turner lifted a finger to his lips. Shh.
"What am I looking at?" Jones whispered.
His buddy unfolded the bandana wrapping, a six-piece tucked inside.
He buried his suspicions within. "...Hell of an iron."
"You act like you've never met her."
"...Met her?"
"Yeah, Digs." A piercing, oiled gaze. "It's Catherine."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
His Stetson hung from its hook, his gray fuzz rocking back 'n forth in the hickory chair. His constant movement, the homeostasis of drunken restlessness. A sandy breeze tumbled in their far-off gaze. And Jones was frozen, nails curled 'round the end of each armrest; an anxious slouch in his chair.
Their eyes were best left apart. Under the lantern glow and moonlight, they instead peered into the desert. It was like a pebbled ocean. A long beat sat in the air; the saddle of confession.
"...You told us she went to see her mother, up north."
The soft whale-sound of the bellowing night wind.
"I did."
Sweat drunk in his scalp, watching the old coot finger with the frame. Just as, wind chime kisses rang overhead.
"...Why her?"
It came out like a demand.
"She bit my shoulder."
An avian dot curved in the black sky.
"...I don't understand."
Turner rocked. And rocked. And stopped to think for a moment.
"Life's complicated, Digs."
And he rocked. Crickets sounded in the dunes. Jones tried to lighten the mood, in denying disbelief.
"...Shoot her any?"
"Fuck no."
Another injection of adrenaline to Jones' system. He clamped his eyes shut.
"...Why not?"
Another end to Turner's rocking. Even he pondered on his quick response. A perverse stare mapped out each ridge of the sidearm. Wherever he was looking, he arrived.
"Lord knows I hate to give her away."
Jones lifted a hand to sponge the liquid caking his cheek.
Turner lifted the muzzle, pointing its tip like a compass into the night.
"Y' see it?"
Eyes scanning the deep.
"No sir, I don't." Jones panted.
The wasteland's belly groaned, and the aching was the wind.
"It rides at bedtime. A posse like thunder. Horses without hooves..."
The man leaned forward in his chair with a squint.
"They're wranglin' somethin' out there."
Jones was out of questions. He didn't want to know anymore. He nestled his temple in his palm. By then, he had just been speaking on Turner's accord.
"Is that right, Lawrence?"
Turner's index coiled onto the trigger, his thumb fingering the hammer.
"Yeah."
The hand over his head had become a mask for his eyes. Jones offered a final inquisition.
"What are they wranglin' on, Lawrence?"
Catherine clicked. Her voice was a gargling of blood. Her intonation said she had accepted that bubbling red long ago. By now, she only tasted moonshine.
"The spirit of Dean Whitley. It's out there, in that desert. Maybe it's the hooves."

I'm (female) a 27-year-old with high-functioning autism and a learning disability (possibly having gained anxiety and/or depression w/suicidal thoughts from time to time on my worst days).
I'm working at a certain grocery store bakery (wont say the name but the first and last part of the name ryme and you just have to change the first letter), and have been for three years (4 in August). When I first started at the age of 24, I was a naive worker who believed that I'd be rewarded for paying my dues and working hard. So I was hired and worked about 3-4 days a week part time 6:30 - 1.
I first started working with a co-worker and a manager. A few months after co-worker left on the spot and I was left to man the bakery all on my own. My manager was running around taking care of things that I did know how to do while I did the most basic tasks and slowly learning the ways of the area. I was working About a year in I was offered full time, 6:30 - 3 six days a week since I was alone for the most part with benefits and all that for I think $11 an hour.
I asked if I could learn cake decorating things as that's what I really wanted to do as part of the condition of working full time, and they agreed. So after talking it over with my family (who also pushed for full time because of money). I stupidly agreed, thinking I'd get rewarded. Spoilers: I didn't. They pulled a few people around the store excluding myself to learn under a professional cake decorator and wouldn't let me learn even when I offered to or expressed my interest or dropped hints or the like.
Then came covid, I was manning the bakery and could open and close easily without having to worry about getting things done since I was able to manage my own time. What I couldn't do my manager did. Working in front of a hot oven, running around with a mask, trying to keep my head up. But in all honesty, I was no longer enjoying my work and dreaded every morning when I had to get up and go, only to be super happy when I was done for the day and had a day off.
Then came them deciding that instead of promoting me (which even I admit that I wouldn't want because I was already exhausted with what I was doing), they pulled someone from the deli to manage me. She was much older than myself and stated that this was probably going to be her last job before retiring, so in my eyes I felt like I was in trouble. She knew nothing about the bakery, wanted to do everything in one day just because she loved to bake and claimed to have no hobbies outside of work, and just generally left a mess around, ignoring my advice/knowledge unless she needed it, and enjoyed barking orders if things didn't go her exact way. But yet she was always super sweet when she needed something from me.
Then months later, we brought over a very slow co-worker who only listened to teh manager, refusing to do as I ask and just in gernal ignoring me. To make things worse, she LOVES to slack off and just stand around if given the opportunity to. Manger sees nothing wrong with this and in fact yells at me when I'm trying to help her around by giving advice. And she loves to take a week off frequently to "visit" loved ones or whatever (this is her claim). So instead of the managerworking by herself for certain days, I get pulled to work more days which stresses me out since I help on the family farm after work, so hardly any rest, just like this week.
I tried to quit after she went too far, but even after explaining my side to my parents, they refused to hear me out, and I was forced to go talk to the store manager who admittedly didn't do much but make it worse by giving me false promises whe I foolishly relaid my issues. Things haven't gotten better and I'm trying to look near that bakery to see if I can find another line of work in the same area or even try to look closer to home.
But what I really want to do is stay home and just work on my novel, or even try to do silk dying for a living. But my parents think that it's just being "lazy" and that they think they know better. Neither of them really had any jobs in the current day and age, so I'd love to see them do what I do and NOT be upset at the conditions. I guess I'm just posting this here because I'm not sure what to even do anymore.

Our family is taking a trip in June, 2023, from Korea to Japan and staying multiple nights at Conrad and other Hilton properties. We have 4 nights (10 nights total, across 3 rooms) at the Conrad Seoul, 2 nights (4 nights, 2 connected rooms) at Hilton Osaka, 2 nights (4 nights, 2 rooms) at Hilton Garden Inn Kyoto, and finally 9 nights at Conrad Tokyo.
We're on our third day at the Conrad Seoul and I wanted to give my impressions, and if there's interest, I'll update in the comments.
Overall, I am very impressed with the hotel and the service at the Conrad Seoul. We had previously stayed at the Conrad LV and its sister property Crockfords, and while the Crockfords may have had a tiny bit more polish, the service was by far superior to anything we have received anywhere among the Hilton brands.
A case in point, we arrived severely jetlagged and exhausted beyond recent (and far, to be honest... not the most exhausted you've been, but close) memory due to the foolish (in retrospect) flight itinerary I had booked. We flew into Haneda at 4PM after a lengthy but uneventful flight from the US and had planned to see the sights in Tokyo before making a connecting flight to Incheon the following day (morning?) at 2AM. We had intended to soften the blow by taking a shower and relaxing at the Delta Sky Club (DSC) for a few hours after landing but due to a colossal brainfart on my part, exited the terminal before trying to look for the DSC. It shouldn't surprise anyone that the DSC is behind the immigration control, by the terminal.
4PM Japan being 3AM local time, the kids immediately fell asleep into light and fitful and ultimately unsatisfying sleep and that would come back to haunt us later. My wife and I then abandoned the plan to take the Keikyuu line to the city and tried to make the best of it in the airport. Long story short, everyone was extremely tired out.
We landed at Incheon around 5AM the following day and not having anything particularly to do (immigration line was fast), we took the subway to the Conrad Seoul, hoping against hope that they would show us mercy and let us check in at... 9:30AM. The reservation was booked through AmEx FHR and I'm a Diamond member but I wasn't sure if that would matter. But the staff who greeted us at the front desk immediately tries her best to help us. We had booked 3 rooms, 1 for us and 2 for the family who would be joining us. She gave us several options, even trying to find an upgrade for us, even though I stressed that my priority at that time was a room, any room, that would allow us to take a shower. She found an upgraded river-view room and apologized that it was on the lower floor (14). She said if we could wait an hour or so, a higher floor room can be arranged. No way. A room? Done!
She went through all the niceties and the benefits from the FHR and the Diamond status fast and gave us our keys. The luggage was delivered in a short order and we could finally relax. She (DM for name) even noted helpfully that the breakfast was still being served at the Executive Lounge and at the Zest (2nd floor) if we should be inclined to take advantage. No thank you, but kind of you to offer.
She also extended the Executive Lounge privileges to our kids (13 and 16), and everyone at the other 2 rooms. I was hoping for this but not really expecting. She also extended breakfast to everyone.
The room was a deluxe king. It had a day bed/sofa, and a large (looked larger than ours at home, but I didn't measure it or anything) king size bed. The bathroom was pretty roomy and had a bathtub and a glorious shower I'll go in some length to praise later. The toilet was a bidet and enclosed (which, in a puzzling trend, is increasingly not the norm). 2 vanity sink with a large, peripherally illuminated mirror closes out this intro.
For the shower... The temperature is controlled by a separate dial and it gets scalding hot. Don't tempt the hot water god. Gradually work your way up to your temperature. Sprayer want is mounted on a vertically sliding bar and is controlled for the intensity by its own dial. Lastly, there's a rainfall shower head above similarly controlled. Water pressure is extremely satisfying. And what's more, turning on the sprayer and the waterfall does not seem to reduce the water pressure to an appreciable degree, or reduce the temperature of the water. Other hotels put in shower systems with pulsing heads and lights and aroma and all that, but a good shower just requires water to the temperature of your liking and a LOT of it. That's it and the Conrad Seoul has it. I can't tell you how it felt to me luxuriating in that cascade of almost scalding hot water hitting me from above and the side. The bath robe was good, very absorbent, and not heavy at all. I could stay in it all day.
The service at the EL was impeccable. Afternoon tea was not anything special, just some pastries and drinks. The happy hour had more substantial offerings: buffalo wings, beef cutlets, braised salmon, grilled vegetables along with a complement of alcohol, including make it yourself cocktail. But above all, the view was spectacular. The windows run the entire length of the EL and you can take almost the entirety of the Han river (that you can see) from the lounge. The coffee service is automatic, but it brewed very satisfying latte and cappuccino.
El had breakfast and it was an abbreviated service compared to the breakfast buffet at the Zest. I'll talk more on that in the comments if there's an interest.
Now for the negatives... Our room was carpeted and running along the middle of the room, the carpet had detached and there was a noticeable hump. Not so high you could trip on it, but not necessarily what you expect in a luxury hotel. Our room did not have the signature Dyson hair dryer you expect at the Conrad. I know, the horrors. That's pretty much it. Being closer to the ground actually made the river view more intimate, although we missed the stage that was being set up for the music festival on the banks of the river from our relatively lower vantage point.
And now for something substantial. All the rooms on our reservations were kings and were upgraded to the river view kings. Which was fine, We had planned for our daughter to stay in a room with her cousin and for me to share the room with my brother. 2 in a room so the king was ideal. But with my kids being so tired and falling asleep at odd hours, and also, I remembered belatedly that my brother snored, that plan needed a change. So our whole family of 4 ended up staying in the same room. Not ideal for a king.
Talking to the front staff, they agreed to look for a twin room for us for that say and the remaining day, and it was arranged that we would pack our luggage and leave for the day around 3-4PM, and they would prep the new room and transfer the luggage while we were gone. It did not happen. Apparently, a hotel member stopped by at around 12:30, peeked in, noticed the luggage was not ready, and decided on his own that we did not want to move after all. Our 13 year old son was there but he did not ask him (although he doesn't speak Korean). So when we returned from a diner with an extended family around 9PM, we were still in the same room. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, a minor point but we had not fully recovered from our jet lag and the prospect of unpacking and packing again was not something I was relishing. In this trip, we tried to minimize the packing (see 9 straight days at one hotel) because I hate it. I hate lugging around luggage even more.
But in the larger sense, it speaks of a breakdown in communication and a failure to do a little extra (by reaching out to me) that could have prevented a service issue. I happen to think that running a hotel is 90% service (and 5% hot shower) so failing at the service would sour even the most luxurious facilities and amenities.
In the end, they upgraded us to a twin room at the Executive floor for the remaining stays so they recovered quite well (even though it took a little prompting... Conrad Seoul is notoriously stingy on next tier upgrade). We're not getting any extra benefit for being on the Executive floor because we have the EL access anyway but we now have the Dyson hairdryer! Our two other rooms at the 28th floor had it so maybe the lower floors don't have it...
Feel free to ask if there's anything you are curious about. We dined at the Zest evening buffet, ate at Atrio, and ordered a cake from the bakery in the lobby. I used the gym, toured the pool, and used the underground access to the subways and the malls extensively. I'll make a separate post for the Conrad Osaka and Conrad Tokyo.

Hello, I am planning a bachelorette party in the area and wanted to get a naughty cake for the bride. Does anyone have any bakery suggestions? TIA

Here's mine(sorry for the short story) It was on comp this season. Now hear me out, for the first year I played the game I never played comp. It wasn't that I wasn't interested but, all my friends were ascendant, diamond and above. You know high elo ranks. I even played with streamers from time to time so, I'm sure I was taught pretty well(besides control over the recoil).
Fast forward I decided to play rank, my friends are bored with the game claims it's too easy and gets on rarely If I ask. So I'm solo queuing, not too bad right? When I first got my placement(Not this season) it was silver 3. I just couldn't get that one win to help me rank up to gold oh well. I got off ranked for a few seasons/acts until this new one and decided to play again.
Again, solo queuing. I played one game and got a placement of silver 1? "Just one game what happened to 5?" I thought. "Oh well maybe I'll find some funny people and we can grind together."
No... No communication, no map awareness, spraying when it's not needed, never listen to call outs, and just an all around awful experience. I had an e-couple cuddling in the corner with the spike and 2 other guys just said screw it and started farting around in the SAME match. I carried my team in most games(If I didn't I was close to the top player) and when I call stuff out like an obvious hiding spot in the corner they just ignore me and die. And to put the icing on the cake they'll get toxic and go afk after I get toxic back. And then Smurfs bragging about boosting their E-kitten(I never knew how bad smurfing was untill this season). And I could handle it but I can't do anything by myself so I feel for my teammates those games.
I lost 8/10 games all positive K/D but, my teammates didn't know how to get past 10 kills, they couldn't play off my abilities, refused to use their abilities, never heal, bad flashes, bad pushing, horrible defenders, ok attackers, pick a smoke character but never smoked, getting matched against gold players, and forces me to play characters I don't like only because they're useful for the team. This season/act broke me lol and all because I decided to get on ranked.

I am looking for a mango mousse cake for my mom’s birthday in a couple weeks. I am aware that Fortinos, Longos, and Metro have them at their bakery but I am curious if there are any other options in the Hamilton area for a good price. Let me know!

[This is a translated excerpt from Clemens Traub’s “Future for Fridays?”. It’s a reflection about his time as an activist in “Fridays for Future” – the German branch of “School Strike for Climate”. The specific problems of western environmentalism adressed therein is germane to the issue of dysfunctional leftism often discussed on stupidpol and as far as I can tell nothing of this unique to Germany. The book is from 2020 and by now the movement “Fridays for Future” basically defunct. Meanwhile, the preferred tactic of current activists is it to glue themselves on main roads during rush hour. This protest method obviously affects working class people most, who usually have to physically show up at work (and often have to use cars to do so), and is less disruptive for the WFH email caste. The result of this is, surprisingly, a staggering 80+% disapproval rating for the climate organization “Last Generation” which is doing this.]
------------------------------
I know the typical milieu of most “Fridays for Future” protesters well. In a way, it's my own and that of my current circle of friends: metropolitan, left-liberal, hip. A space for the daughters of doctors to meet the sons of lawyers. Gin tasting and discussions about plastic-free shopping and zero waste are equally high on the agenda. Veganism is as much part of the unspoken code of being trendy as frequenting second-hand shops. And the organic grocery store around the corner naturally enhances the location of your own home.
The offspring of the professional class keep to themselves. Does the climate movement represent a cross-section of society? Not even close! Fridays for Future is the rebellion of the privileged, and the movement offers them the perfect opportunity to flaunt their own cosmopolitan lifestyle and talent.
Many of my climate-concerned friends are questioning whether the social background of the demonstrators matters at all. Isn't that absolutely unimportant? The main thing, they are convinced, is that the earth is saved. It doesn't matter by whom. The population has been silent for long enough, and now it is finally time to stand up.
I admit that the consistency of this chain of thought was extremely appealing to me and that using social origin as an argument against a group is of course nonsensical. The outlined combative spirit also enthralled me at first. At the beginning of my participation in "Fridays for Future", saving the world was the only thing that counted for me. It didn’t matter who stood by my side. And it still wouldn’t matter for me today.
But what matters to me is the behavior and reasoning of the people protesting with me. And here the circle closes, because the social background reveals more about the movement than the demonstrators would like to admit.
In fact, I take the view that the exclusive social background of the young protesters is the actual birth defect of "Fridays for Future". But because the movement was far too homogeneous, far too elitist and correspondingly far too aloof right from the start, its members remained oblivious to it. Ultimately, only those who are doing well in material terms have the time and leisure to consider climate protection as the most important and also the only political issue of our time and to subordinate everything else to it.
Located in its ivory tower, the movement doesn't even notice that its criticism is leveled at the lifestyle of many economically disadvantaged people, who for financial reasons do not always have a choice. They are denounced as climate sinners because they don't shop in health food stores but at discounters. It never occurs to the demonstrators that there are people whose worries about ever-increasing electricity bills and rental charges make a discussion about forgoing air travel irrelevant from the outset.
And how could they? In their sheltered world, all of that is very far away. But that is exactly what makes the movement a risk, because it jeopardizes the already fragile cohesion of our society. For a large part of the population, however, other, more pressing everyday concerns prevail. For those who are afraid of being affected by job cuts in view of the announcements by the industry, the slashing and burning of tropical rain forest is currently of secondary importance.
Likewise, the extinction of exotic animal species is very far away for someone who worries every day about their tenuous retirement arrangements. That doesn't mean that everyday worries should completely obscure the problems of climate change, but it does explain why climate change is not the first priority for people with existential concerns.
It also explains why measures to save the climate must take economic concerns into account. And it explains why more and more people are wondering whether protesters will finally also take to the streets to deal with their everyday distress: lack affordable housing, declining pensions... plenty of issues exist.
The entire political discourse, both between the parties and outside of parliament, on the street, completely ignores the reality of life for many people in Germany! And I can well imagine that that's not a good feeling for many. The public discussions, which are often far removed from everyday life, exclude less privileged people. The result: we are all sitting on a social powder keg.
I don't originally hail from this metropolitan milieu, but grew up in a region that is often dismissed as "rural backwater". Publications such as "Landlust" and "Landleben" [trendy magazines promoting life in the country side] fulfill the longing of city dwellers for pure nature, but this dream only seems to apply to those people who consciously decide to have a weekend house in the forest. However, anyone who grew up in a rural environment will hardly benefit from this.
My parents live in the Palatinate. I grew up there too. My heart clings to the region, it is scenically beautiful with rows of wine-growing villages. But for an urbanite in pursuit of self-actualization it has to be the worst nightmare. In case your are unfamiliar with Palatinate’s culture: Schlachtfest instead of whiskey tasting. Very few apartments are actually furnished in this “country style” featured in the magazines. My home village isn’t shooting location for documentaries about gentrification. Maybe a camera team will get lost in one of our many hamlets at a Saumagen-centered village festival. But that would be pretty rare.
Drowsy villages provide the perfect backdrop while growing up. An ideal, idyllic world. But the older I got, the more I was drawn to the big city. I longed for a place that was more vibrant than the Palatinate and which could offer me more adventures and opportunities on the way to adulthood. Precisely this big, wide world I longed for. And I today I indeed enjoy its advantages. Whenever I drive home today, I have a feeling that two worlds that don't really have much to do with each other are colliding.
Shortly after attending my first Fridays for Future rallies, I paid another visit to my old homeland – these are becoming less and less frequent. When I enthusiastically told my acquaintances there about my experiences at the recent "Fridays for Future" demonstrations, I quickly realized how little they were interested. Out of pure friendship and politeness, they listened to me with half an ear.
I was quite surprised by that. What was the most hotly debated topic of recent weeks in my university town was met with absolute indifference among my old school friends here. They were more interested in the last day of the Bundesliga match or their last Tinder date than in the great climate revolution.
To be honest, I was initially disappointed and then increasingly angry at this lack of interest. While we young people in the big cities are trying to save our planet, the people in my home village are letting us down, I thought. Don't they understand that they too only have one planet at their disposal, just like us from "Fridays for Future"? Luckily, out of politeness, I kept those thoughts to myself.
In the days that followed, I started hearing disparaging comments about Fridays for Future with increasing frequency. In the eyes of my old friends, the movement was an "eco-sect", the self-promotion of big-city, left-wing weirdos. Someone called Greta Thunberg a "deranged menace". In addition to insults, they appeared to become increasingly bothered by the patronizing demeanor of many Fridays for Future protesters, who seem to perceive ICE-car drivers and meat eaters as second-class citizens.
The more often this happened, the deeper the wedge was driven between my current city life and my origins in my home village in the Palatinate. Between my old and my new world. For the first time in my life, I was just happy when I was able to drive back to the big city: finally the ideal world again, even if it was on the verge of collapse.
Ever since that visit, I've been quite hypersensitive whenever my enthusiasm for "Fridays for Future" wasn't shared 100 percent. In my eyes, there were simply only climate heroes on the one hand and climate sinners on the other. The absolute good or absolute bad – and nothing in between! It was only later that I realized how much I was already influenced by the “Fridays for Future” movement.
At first I could only offer my my old acquaintances reproaches. I accused them of being apolitical and uninformed about the world anyway. A mechanism of exclusion that is very common in "Fridays for Future", as I later realized. After all, at university I even mocked my old acquaintances as provincials, something I had always hated myself when my new metropolitan friends teased me about it.
But it was so much easier to just dismiss them as uninformed "provincials" than to argue with them and take them seriously. I didn't ask why my friends from my old home country saw "Fridays for Future" as arrogant or aloof, I didn't care at the time. Possible self-doubts could not arise in the first place.
I didn't anticipate, that this would actually fiercely play up in me over the coming weeks! I thought more and more about the experiences in my home country. It just wouldn't let me go. Where does the rejection of “Fridays for Future” come from, I asked myself. Where does the indifference in the face of urgent global climate problems come from? How could it be that my friends didn't see those and that they didn't comprehend the seriousness of the situation? I looked for answers but couldn't find any.
For several weeks, every Friday, there was no longer any plastic dishware in the university cafeteria. This gesture, following the "Fridays for Future" demonstrations, was intended to set an example for environmental protection. What should have caused storms of enthusiasm in theory, however, meant a very special kind of chaos in practice: balancing a piece of raspberry cake on your bare hand without a plate is more difficult than it might sound. Once the first piece of cake hit the floor, a discussion about the plastic boycott quickly broke out in the canteen.
It immediately turned out that the cashiers could only laugh at what they considered to be an idiotic ban on plastic. Their statements shocked many of my fellow students, who are big "FfF" fans. Instead of relaxed humorous small talk, my fellow students reacted with deadly seriousness. In the heat of the moment, the cashiers were even treated with extremely condescending insults. I will never forget how my fellow students lost all human decency that day in the supposed fight for climate protection. For the first time I noticed how fanatical and arrogant many of my "FfF" acquaintances had long since become.
After that event, something actually changed in me. But I didn't want to admit it to myself at first. But the more often I demonstrated at "Fridays for Future", the more alien the movement became to me. Today I know: It took an event like the one in the university canteen or a stay in my old home country to open my eyes and to realize how important sincerely attempting to understand other realms of experience before applying crude labels to people. Due to its exclusionary megalomania, “Fridays for Future” is incapable of this realization. But only a person who approaches other people, takes them seriously and wants to understand their everyday lives will be listened to. Only those people can actually affect something. They might even, in the best case scenario, save our planet!
While "Fridays for Future" was unable to make inroads my home village’s community, the media was showed more interest. Interviews with activists became more and more frequent on television. The talk shows couldn't get enough of them. "Markus Lanz", "Anne Will" or "Hart aber Fair": All of them had at least one "FfF" activist to visit. The more I saw them there, the more their arrogant demeanor bothered me. I suddenly switched off people who I still saw as inspiring personalities a few months ago. They kept raising their index fingers admonishingly. Looking down from the ivory tower at anyone who disagreed.
Finger wagging was slowly but surely becoming the hallmark of the movement. Their image of the enemy was crystal clear. Their worldview is dangerously one-dimensional. My big city friends suddenly fought everyone they saw as being complicit in the misery of the world: the meat eaters, the plastic bag carriers, the ICE-car drivers, the short-haul fliers, the long-haul fliers, the cruise tourists, the farmers, and of course the evil SUV owners. But honestly, don't we all belong to one of these groups from time to time?
Once they suddenly started cursing anyone who accidentally commits a tiny climate sin, even if it's just incorrect sorting of trash, I felt like they were in the ultimate battle against the rest of humanity. Elitist hubris everywhere I looked. In their moral arrogance they were (and still are) completely unaware of how many "normal" people they alienated by doing so. My assessment that "Fridays for Future" is primarily a movement of socially privileged young people has now been backed up by corresponding figures. The Berlin “Institute for Protest and Movement Research” got to the bottom of the social composition of the climate movement. On March 15, 2019, it surveyed “Fridays for Future” protesters at rallies in Berlin and Bremen. The study was financed by the Bündnis 90/Die Grünen-affiliated "Heinrich Böll Foundation".
The study’s results were illuminating: More than 90 percent of those surveyed stated that they had at least completed their Abitur (or advanced technical college entrance qualification) or were currently striving to do so. An overwhelming majority of 90 percent! Not even 1 percent of the demonstrators attended secondary schools [which prepare pupils for non-academic vocational training]. Almost two-thirds of the students considered themselves to be in the upper-middle class. Even before that, I had no doubt that "Fridays for Future" is a movement of the affluent. But what I read in this study surpassed my estimated. "Fridays for Future" does not in any way represent a cross-section of society, as has often been claimed.
I was surprised how little the sobering result of the study was then discussed. Society had to be informed about the privileged background and the resulting aloofness of the young protesters. Doesn't this change the entire perspective on the defining social debate of the last few months?
The figureheads of the movement in particular all come from the “most bourgeois” background. For example, we have Luisa Neubauer, the best-known German "Fridays for Future" activist. She grew up in the relatively expensive Elbe suburb of Iserbrook in Hamburg. Everyone in Hamburg knows: Not exactly a residential area that is known for its social housing. She did her Abitur in Hamburg-Blankenese. It is Hamburg's villa district par excellence. Sightseeing buses now offer tours through the district to present the magnificent villas to curious tourists. She is a scholarship holder of the party-affiliated foundation Bündnis 90/Die Grünen and is also a member of the party. So nothing stands in the way of a career in politics, she says so herself. "I don't want to rule out a career in politics," she told Zeit Campus, for example. [Neubauer is, in fact, a scion of the oligarchical Reemtsma clan; so is her cousin, another figurehead of the movement]
It’s less a rebellion from below and more a case of perfect self-marketing. But now cracks do appear in this underdog stage production. Today Luisa Neubauer can only be reached via her management. Demonstrators as pop stars! And of course you can't just talk to them on the street when you're demonstrating together. At least not with “Fridays for Future”. Please, what a naive notion! Although there are also critics of the excessive portrayal of people within the "Fridays for Future" movement, there is no real change in sight.
In the meantime, the climate movement has become one thing in particular: a career springboard for ambitious young elites. "Fridays for Future" is the perfect stage to make a name for yourself. Many of the educated offspring of academics are of course aware of this. The more media attention, the more attractive it is to be in the front row. Supposedly idealistic activism can now be marketed very well.
But not only the figureheads like Luisa Neubauer want to get some of the public spotlight. More and more "Neubauer disciples" are trying their luck in the "Fridays for Future" profiling machine. There we have, to name just a few examples, Linus Steinmetz, Carla Reemtsma or Sebastian Grieme.
Getting an appearance on a talk show or at least being able to read your name in the newspaper - all of this can become an opportunity of a lifetime. Being in the front row not only feels incredibly good, it is also a kind of free ticket for later professional life. And as if that wasn't enough: A flood of new Instagram followers is of course also a fantastic side effect. With this in mind: full speed ahead!
Who could object? Everyone is looking for recognition. Doesn't everyone want to take advantage of the opportunities in their life? And finally, every society needs ambitious young people who will later enrich politics, business and culture.
At best, people who want to be the center of attention also bear responsibility for themselves and others. So far no problem, you might think at first.
But how will many people with limited financial resources feel when those rebels who constantly lash out at the lifestyles of others take advantage of it for themselves? While many citizens have to accept new climate costs in their everyday lives, they also experience how Luisa Neubauer is offered a position on the supervisory board at Siemens. In view of this, the suspicion of many people that climate activists are making careers at the expense of other citizens is all too understandable.
I have other concerns as well. In our time, the frustration with the elites is growing. The "enraged citizen phenomenon" has become one of the most discussed topics of this decade. Intellectuals around the world are concerned about the cause of this worrying development. Our society is currently experiencing a "rift" between two major population groups. In an anthology they edited, the political and social scientists Wolfgang Merkel, Ruud Koopmans and Michael Zürn differentiate between “cosmopolitans” and “communitarians”.
There are those who benefit from the future and are therefore relaxed about it. Above all, they see opportunities in it and view the globalization of our world with optimism. This group is referred to as cosmopolitans. But many people are also afraid of change. They believe that the future will not hold anything good and, potentially, only the ever-possible economic decline. Given the "opening" of the world, communitarians see the dangers in particular. They often have the feeling that they are not really noticed by society's elite.
The well-known distinction between “anywheres” and “somewheres” by the British journalist and author David Goodhart supports this finding. Goodhart distinguishes "anywheres" who are educated, wealthy and will feel at home in their circles around the world, and "somewheres". They belong to completely different social milieus and are relegated to a specific place where they work, live, have their friends and struggle to assert their status.
Most "Fridays for Future" activists know: the future belongs to them. Many have the classic biography of a cosmopolitan. Because of their social background, they were born with everything they needed to benefit from our system. Everything is just right: the appearance, the social environment and of course the education.
Although they face the end of the world as a constant threat, their future does not scare them. Why? The doors are wide open for them. They master the complicated rules of our individualized knowledge society very well. You will do your internship in Brussels and not in Bottrop. Better the EU Commission than retail, a sector without future anyway. And also: cultivate connections! Your English vocabulary is usually larger than German. Perfectly prepared for the future, come what may - because they are the elite of tomorrow. The dangerous thing about it: most of the demonstrators are not even aware of this.
The well-trained "Fridays for Future" activists prefer to see themselves as misunderstood outsiders in society. Being an outsider is what makes rebellion sexy. At the same time I say to myself: What must a socially disadvantaged person think when suddenly wealthy cosmopolitans like to play the role of the outsider! And they don't just like it the role. No, they are really putting effort into staging it.
The classic distribution of roles between "perpetrator" and "victim" in the social context is thus turned upside down in a negligent manner: no longer the single mother and multi-jobber is seen as a victim of the existing social conditions, but the climate-conscious scholarship holder who has to experience how the consumption of affordable meat endangers our environment.
But that's not all: instead of listening to the concerns of hard-working people, they blame them for their environmentally unfriendly diesel car, which they need for their daily commute to work.
Instead of considering questions of justice with "Fridays for Future", the movement reduced itself from the start to questions of lifestyle. In my circle of friends, too, the extinction of species is simply cooler than poverty in old age and the issue of gender is hipper than low basic pension.
Above all, the privileged know the social code of the new “morally good” life. The new green-bourgeois bearing regulates the friend-foe scheme of the climate debate. A mechanism of exclusion that often pushes fellow citizens who are already worse off even further aside. A good person has long been only someone who can show an ecologically sound certificate of good conduct. The existential feeling of many that they just have to somehow make ends meet does not exist in the living environment of the (upper) bourgeois offspring. In the climate debate of the last few months, worlds have collided that couldn't be more different. Worlds that are moving further and further apart.
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[The author doesn’t mention it, but the social milieu that makes up the bulk of the climate movement is also very fond of importing Anglo-inspired race discourse. Towards the end of its decline, they were increasingly caught in purity spirals. For example: should white musicians with dreadlocks be allowed to play during happenings?
The study from “Institute for Protest and Movement Research” also examined ethnicity of the protesters: they are predominantly of ethnic German stock, much more so than the average German citizen. Who could have known?]

I have access to my choice of two clones of the strains listed below. They are described as mature/ "pre-teens". They are sun-acclimated, ready for the backyard - basically plug and play. Since I am only limited to growing two, which 2 would you choose, and more importantly, why? They are all photoperiods, so none of these ladies will be ready for harvest until October+.I'm having a hard time making a final decision, so hopefully this group and help me to make up my mind:
Superboof (Black Cherry Punch x Tropicana Cookies. Breeder cut)
Cobracabanna (breeder - Kind Farms.Passion Snake x Dual OG 4 (Passion Snake = Snakes Cakes S1 Bx ) (Snakes Cake x Snake Lite. Pheno hunted)
Purple Jane Dough (breeder Lumpy's. 50/50. Pheno hunted)
Apple Crisp (Described as an Indica-leaning Hybrid that mixes some of the best phenotypes from the Cookies strain crossed with a Sour Apple x Sour Diesel. Pheno hunted.)
Choka Cola (breeder Marks Organix in York Maine. Granola Funk x Rootbeer x I-95. Breeder cut)
Cap Junky ( breeder Capulator and Seed Junky Genetics. Alien Cookies x Kush Mints #11. Breeder cut)
Banana Creme Cake X Jealousy (breeder Seed Junky - pheno hunted)
Anonymous og (breeder 3C Kushishima - pheno hunted. Strong og Kush derivative)
Gold Dust (breeder Exotic Genetix, crossing Rainbow Runtz x Scotty 2 Hotty. Pheno hunted)
Banana Bellini (breeder Mt Baker Home Grown. Indica. Pheno hunted)
Candied Truffles (Terple #17 (Candy Cut) x White Truffles. Indica dominant.Pheno hunted.)

I usually only comment on other posts but I had a situation happen recently where I got conflicting responses on if I was in the wrong or not so I decided to post my own. For context I (22) live in an on-campus apt right now at my uni. This means that I was randomly assigned other students to live with, did not get to select them. There are four girls in this apt and I specifically have had an issue with my roommate (23), Sarah. In the past she has used my toiletries and has snacked on some of my food which I instantly told her that I would like her to stop. Besides some eye rolls and sighs she mostly apologized and said she won't do it again. Now, Sarah is diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which I do not believe she is actively taking her meds for because she has manic episodes frequently. I notice with a lot of impulse decisions she makes and manipulation tactics she uses, these actions are not of someone who is coping well.
Anyways, Yesterday I noticed my toothpaste was left wide open on our shared bathroom counter with the paste all caked around the lid. This is how I knew my stuff was being touched again because I am neat and would never do this. I instantly knew it was Sarah because she is messy but decided to ask every roommate if they touched it just so she didn't feel singled out. She admits to it when she gets home and I ask her. This toothpaste I kept in my assigned corner of the bathroom cabinet with all my other stuff but I only use it as an abrasive cleaner because my dog chewed on it (there is multiple puncture marks on the tube) and I didn't want to waste it. I let her know this because I legit felt bad and thought she deserved to know but also to sort of let her know, “Hey this is why you don’t touch stuff that’s not yours and you don’t know where it came from”.
I proceed to ask her why she used it and she just sort of just awkwardly smiles and runs into her room. I then thought it would be a good idea to get a paper trail on iMessage just in case she tries to claim I made her sick. I send a text that says verbatim, “Hey I just want to have written communication with you that I don’t want you to touch anymore of my stuff since none of it is communal. Thank you”. She then tells me I am rude for trying to text her instead of talking to her face to face and that I am crazy for thinking she is about to acknowledge anything I said in my text. She even ends her message sarcastically thanking me for letting her know my dog drooled all over the toothpaste. At this point I admit I get angry and might be the AH because I can not believe her audacity so I tell her that she would not have to worry about what was in my stuff if she respected boundaries but she does not so it is entirely her fault if she gets sick from my dog. Basically, am I the asshole for specifically letting her know that my dog chewed on the tooth paste she used and kind of clocking an attitude? Should I have just said hey don’t touch my stuff and left it at that?

Are there any places that sell cakes that aren't too sweet? Grocery store or standard cakes readily available at bakeries can be too sweet (Vincenzos, Cake Box, etc). Any suggestions for places in the region?