After succumbing to a fever of some sort in 1705, Irish woman Margorie McCall was hastily buried to prevent the spread of whatever had done her in. Margorie was buried with a valuable ring, which her husband had been unable to remove due to swelling. This made her an even better target for body snatchers, who could cash in on both the corpse and the ring.
The evening after Margorie was buried, before the soil had even settled, the grave-robbers showed up and started digging. Unable to pry the ring off the finger, they decided to cut the finger off. As soon as blood was drawn, Margorie awoke from her coma, sat straight up and screamed.
The fate of the grave-robbers remains unknown. One story says the men dropped dead on the spot, while another claims they fled and never returned to their chosen profession.
Margorie climbed out of the hole and made her way back to her home.
Her husband John, a doctor, was at home with the children when he heard a knock at the door. He told the children, “If your mother were still alive, I’d swear that was her knock.”
When he opened the door to find his wife standing there, dressed in her burial clothes, blood dripping from her finger but very much alive, he dropped dead to the floor. He was buried in the plot Margorie had vacated.
Margorie went on to re-marry and have several children. When she did finally die, she was returned to Shankill Cemetery in Lurgan, Ireland, where her gravestone still stands. It bears the inscription “Lived Once, Buried Twice.”
Imagine basilisks specifically designed to crash these algorithms: abstract-blocks-of-black-and-white-for-heads that, like the QR codes of old, carry a hidden message in their patterning, only it’s a payload, a virus that shreds the system of anyone who tries to capture it on camera, the natural evolution of anti-face-detection camouflage. Imagine things that don’t even have faces, that don’t have an equivalent and easily-cataloguable part; people who deliberately wear mass-produced, identical android bodies, the Guy Fawkes masks of the future.
It’s a thing! Turns out, people would rather not look stupid than not be caught by facial recognition.
Somehow they look exactly like you would expect cyperpunk protagonists trying to avoid detection by facial recognition software to look.
hillarious dystopian future fashion finally makes sense. or, all scene kids will survive
So apparently juggalos also have this ability to fuck up face recognition tracking.
Yesterday i lost my glasses. And decided to document my frustration until……… I really wish this was planned, but i gotta admit, I took a big L.
“[defeated tone] So… I have…. lost my glasses. And I’m afraid to leave my bed because I can’t see… and I fear I might step on my glasses. So I’m sitting here with my bee pillow pet… and I don’t know what to do.
I need to get up. I wanna get food. I gotta exfoliate and moisturize, cause my skin looking atrocious right now.
What if… [deep breath] What if I die here, y’all? Would anyone even miss me?Like, really?
I want Enrique Iglesias to come save me. Like, the ceiling opens up and like, he comes down from like, a heavenly cloud with my glasses, and he’s singing. [imitating Enrique Iglesias] ‘Would you dance? If I asked you to dance? I will be your hero baby!’ And I just take my glasses and I’m like ‘Thanks yo! Put a shirt on homie!’
But life, life don’t work… life… [prolonged silence]
im extremely nosy but i dont have loose lips and thats the best combination tbh im not here to spread rumors or hurt anyone im only in it for the knowledge of everyone’s business i wont tell anybody but i NEED to possess ALL of the secrets
Even Playboy wants men to stop screaming at women on the street. When the pinnacle of female objectification is telling you you’re being a sexist pig, maybe for real you’re being a sexist pig. (I mean, women have been telling you you’re a sexist pig for catcalling for a long time, but then again, they’re *women* so their opinions don’t count. Now a magazine for men has acknowledged it so LISTEN UP.)
Even Playboy wants men to stop screaming at women on the street. That needed to be repeated. Even Playboy.
