last updated: Sat, 28 May 2016 01:36:10 -0400
A Thai man who fought off a three-metre (10-foot) python that bit his penis while he was squatting on the toilet is recovering, hospital staff said Saturday. Atthaporn Boonmakchuay was admitted after surviving the nightmare encounter with a snake hiding in the toilet plumbing at his home in Chachoengsao province east of Bangkok. "But after a while (the snake) rose from the toilet bowl and bit me," he said, explaining how he grabbed the serpent's neck to prevent it from taking him down.
Everyone has a bad day at work now and then. But if you have one of these 15 Most Stressful Jobs in the World, even one bad day can get you or someone else killed. From EMT to Coal Miner to Ice Road Trucker, these are the jobs that will keep you up at nights!
last updated: Fri, 27 May 2016 12:01:13 -0400
As Hillary Clinton seeks to rebound from a highly critical report from the State Department’s inspector general, Senate investigators and a conservative group are zeroing in on newly revealed evidence about the activities of a now retired State Department computer specialist in orchestrating what they charge was a “cover-up” of the former secretary of state’s email practices. The role of John Bentel, whose identity as a key figure in the email probes was first reported by Yahoo News on Wednesday, is expected to be one focus of questioning today when Clinton’s former chief of staff, Cheryl Mills, is deposed in a lawsuit brought by Judicial Watch over the State Department’s handling of Freedom of Information Act requests relating to Clinton’s emails, according to a source close to the case.
last updated: Fri, 27 May 2016 15:52:58 +0000
Talking With A 22-Year-Old Donald Trump Supporter
He lives near San Francisco, makes more than $50,000 per year, and is voting for the billionaire to fight against political correctness.
Trump's San Diego rally draws more than 1,000 chanting protesters
SAN DIEGO (Reuters) - Donald Trump brought his message of walls and deportations to the doorstep of America’s busiest border crossing on Friday as the presumptive Republican presidential nominee greeted supporters in San Diego, amid one of the largest counter-protests organized against him.
last updated: Fri, 27 May 2016 20:31:03 -0400
Things I’ve learned managing my lifelong messiness.
If you're a naturally messy person like me, you've probably learned to work with your own regular level of untidiness.
It's definitely true that while other people only see mess, we tend to know exactly where everything we need is on a daily basis.
It's also definitely true that tidying can be overwhelming, time-consuming, and very unfun, so who needs it? You might find that like me, once you START cleaning it's very hard to stop until everything is 100% perfect, and that can stress a person out, so instead you avoid it like the plague.
Flo Perry / BuzzFeed
But even though you do know which dirty T-shirt the remote is tucked under, you've also probably felt it would be nice to be a bit tidier and more organised on a regular basis.
Mostly for Instagramming your room purposes, ofc.
Knowing the struggle, I've put together a list of the little initiatives I make to be a bit more ~together~, and hopefully a few of them will work for you too!
Full disclosure: I do not do these all the time and I am still the worst person at laundry there ever was, so I have no tips for that particular weakness.
Becky Barnicoat / BuzzFeed
Devote the first 15 minutes of work and home time to setting up your space.
Make these readjustment sessions an integral part of your day. I schedule time into my calendar to set up my work desk every morning, which means that MOST mornings I actually do get my rubbish cleared, my water bottle filled, my to-do list scribbled out, and my calendar checked.
Applying the habit at home can be harder, especially since I'm the slump-on-to-the-couch-and-ignore-everything-as-soon-as-I-walk-in-the-door type. This tendency is largely responsible for my untidy room, so I try to take 10–15 minutes when I walk in the door to clean out my work bag, tidy around my bed, and just generally make sure tiny things are done BEFORE I treat myself to a good old sofa slump. Because to be honest, if I say I'll do it later, what I really mean is I won't.
Even though I don't always succeed with taking these little tidy breaks, making the effort to take them means big cleans are less painful and that over time cleaning up before I'm comfortable becomes more or less a regular habit. I don't know how naturally tidy people who don't do this at least semi-regularly function – somehow I never see my deskmates scheduling tidy-time, and yet their spaces are always cleaner than mine. Messiness to some degree is just my lot in life, but it's nice to minimise it, and it is refreshing to see my desk and room fresh and clear before I use them up every day.
Tanner Ringerud / Chelsey Pippin / BuzzFeed
Being a teen is hard.
This picture where he is wearing the official "My mom took me shopping for back-to-school clothes and she picked this out at American Eagle" outfit.
Patrick Riviere / Getty Images
This picture where he is breaking fashion's #1 rule: No flip-flops with jeans...EVER.
TBH, flip-flops should only be worn at the beach and nowhere else. Don't @ me.
Gaye Gerard / Getty Images
LeBron: “Drake, this a place for families.”
The Cleveland Cavaliers finished off the Toronto Raptors, 113-87 in Game 6 of the Eastern Conference finals Friday night, advancing the Cavs to their second straight NBA Finals.
Frank Gunn / AP
After the game, LeBron James headed to the locker room and was greeted by none other than Raptors team ambassador Drake, who embraced the NBA star in an encounter captured on live TV:
I’d wanna be me too.
Some of these stories are crazy and true. Some are pure bullshit. Can you tell the difference?
I’m never going to be OK again. SPOILERS.
This post contains spoilers for Season 6, Episode 5 of Game of Thrones.
Discovering the truth about how Hodor became Hodor is probably one of most devastating things to ever happen to the Game of Thrones fandom – and that's saying something.
Naturally, people have taken to Tumblr to express their emotions (SO MANY EMOTIONS)...
Life goal: to be a raven.
Chris Skaife is the ravenmaster at the Tower of London. His job is to care for the tower's ravens, which he has been doing for the past 11 years.
In case you didn't know, legend has it that there must always be six ravens at the Tower of London. If they leave, the kingdom and the tower will fall. There are currently six main ravens at the tower, and one reserve.
The Ravenmaster was kind enough to let us visit one morning and ask the internet's favourite guard birds some ~important~ questions.
Take a quick look at the Tourism Australia website and social media channels and you'll find all of the things you'd expect from the Great Barrier Reef: glossy photos of divers, happy turtles, and coral. Lots of coral.
But the Australian government has been working hard to make sure you don't see just how badly damaged by climate change the reef has become.
It turns out the Aussie government intervened in a draft Unesco report on climate change and world heritage sites to make sure all references to Australia were scrubbed out.
The Guardian reports that the federal Department of Environment intervened because it feared the report would damage the reef tourism industry, which generates $5.4 billion a year for Queensland's economy.
In a statement to BuzzFeed News, a department spokesperson confirmed the intervention but denied that environment minister Greg Hunt had any knowledge of it.
"The department expressed concern that giving the report the title 'Destinations at Risk' had the potential to cause considerable confusion," the spokesperson said. "The department was concerned that the framing of the report confused two issues – the world heritage status of the sites and risks arising from climate change and tourism."
If you're wondering why the government might not want people to know about the effects of climate change on the reef, it's probably because of this.
The Great Barrier Reef is in the midst of the biggest environmental crisis in recorded history. Scientists say only 7% of the 2,300km-long reef has been left unaffected by a massive coral bleaching event caused by climate change.
Coral bleaching occurs when abnormal water conditions such as rising temperatures cause the coral to expel tiny photosynthetic algae called zooxanthellae, turning the coral white.
Scientists from the National Coral Bleaching Taskforce, a federal government–funded initiative devoted to researching the reef, fear that half of the coral may be dead.
The Greens hit out at the department for censoring the report, saying the solution to the reef crisis isn't to sweep it under the rug.
ARC Centre of Excellence for Coral Reef Studies.
“The Turnbull government will stop at nothing to cover up the devastating impact its inaction on global warming is having on our World Heritage Areas like the Great Barrier Reef," Greens environment spokesperson senator Larissa Waters said.
“The solution for saving the reef and for saving the tourism industry it supports are one and the same. We need a healthy reef for a healthy tourism industry and that means actually dealing with global warming, rather than ignoring it."
The uncensored draft report, which has been published by Guardian Australia, states:
"The biggest long-term threat to the GBR today, and to its ecosystems services, biodiversity, heritage values and tourism economy is climate change, including rising sea temperatures, accelerating rates of sea level rise, changing weather patterns and ocean acidification."
You can read the whole thing here.
Maple water or maple soap?
“We’re like a cult,” a tan, freckled, ambiguously aged woman tells me, the dregs of Coors Light swishing in the bottom of her plastic cup.
We’re in the women’s bathroom of the Ballard Elks Club, decorated with white wicker furniture and a tray of drugstore lotions and hairspray. “The guy I’m seeing, he’s a member too,” she continues, stuffing her phone into her Louis Vuitton purse. “And we’re trying to convince the club to do a fundraiser so we can go around and do to other clubs what we’ve done here.” Specifically: Make the Elks more appealing, more vital, maybe even cool — while still preserving its ties to both its old Seattle neighborhood and the longtime members who remain its core.
The woman is wearing an oversized faux fur vest and heeled suede boots, which is to say she’s dressed for neither the Elks nor Seattle. But the mother of two is a regular fixture at the lodge, which she joined about four years ago, so that “my kids would have somewhere to pee when we were at the beach.” That beach, right on the Puget Sound — and the bar that extends above it — is how the vast majority of the new members at the Ballard Elks found out about the lodge, which is one of the fastest-growing in America, mushrooming from around 800 members in 2012 to over 1,200 today. The club’s median age, 52, is the lowest in the country — and a figure that, if current trends hold, will only continue to fall.
Ariel Nilsen, 4 Year Trustee
Many Ballard Elks were first drawn to the beach parking and cheap drinks, but have found that their investment in the lodge, and the community that forms around it, has transformed into something more. Fraternal organizations have always met specific cultural needs — providing a space for men as women entered the public sphere at the turn of the 19th century, and a return to the brotherhood of military service after both world wars. In Ballard, the Elks are a salve for very contemporary and Seattle-specific syndromes: For transplants, it’s an antidote to the “Seattle Freeze,” the term for the difficulty non-natives face in making friends or finding dates; for natives, it’s a retreat from the Amazon-incited condo-ization of the city as a whole and Ballard in particular.
But it’s also part of a national phenomenon: For the first time in 35 years, the Elks are growing. Average member age is down from 69 to 61. Membership is exploding in San Francisco, the Florida Keys, North Carolina, and dozens of other areas, including the bedroom communities of New Jersey, where Eli Manning was just voted to membership. Each of those lodges has a story of where that growth is coming from, yet the impulse remains constant: seeking connections, with people who are not necessarily like them, in dusty old buildings with $2 drafts and animal heads hanging over the doorway.
“I tell people that I’m part of the Elks and they give me funny looks,” Ben Braden, who sits on the Ballard Elks’ executive committee, told me. “But then I take people here and they’re like, ‘Do I have one of these in my neighborhood?’”
Nestor Tamayao, Loyal Knight
The Elks and similar fraternal organizations were part of a broad trend of “joining” and civic engagement that started in the 1880s, dropped off during the Great Depression, and surged following World War II. “Fraternal organizations,” writes historian Robert D. Putnam, “represented a reaction against the individualism and anomie of this era of rapid social change, asylum from a disordered and uncertain world.” Many provided “material benefits” like life and health insurance, as well as “social solidarity and ritual”; by 1910, more than one-third of adult males over the age of 19 were a member of at least one.
Some, like the Jaycees, the Rotary Club, the Kiwanis, and the Lions, were more explicitly business-oriented; others, like the Odd Fellows, were more invested in providing care for their members; while the Black Elks, Black Moose, and dozens of others developed similarly robust organizations segregated from their white counterparts. The Elks were officially desegregated in 1973, but black members were routinely denied membership through the 1980s. Today, most lodges have diversified: While many, especially in rural areas, remain largely white, there are dozens of clubs whose membership is almost entirely black; in Charlottesville, Virginia, the Elks Club has become “the only real place for black folks to go.”
As late as the 1970s, the lodge was where you went to dance on a Saturday night, to dress up on New Year’s, to play bridge and hobnob and drink under the auspices of charity. Franklin D. Roosevelt was an Elk; so were Truman and MacArthur and Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy.
The Elks — officially known as the Benevolent and Protective Order of the Elks, the BPOE, or, if you ask an Elk who likes dad jokes, “the Best People on Earth” — was founded in New York City in 1868. The specific lore of the early Elks has filled books, but the bare facts, as presented during a recent Ballard new member orientation, are easier: “Some actors wanted to join on Sundays, which wasn’t allowed at the time, so they put together a private club so they could succeed at that. Gradually that group started doing more with charity, and a lot more with veterans, but it was pretty much a men’s organization.”
The group voted to name itself the Elks, narrowly defeating the Buffaloes, and borrowed much of its ritual from the Freemasons, then one of the largest organizations in the country. By 1910, Elks done away with almost all of the ritual — including secret handshakes and passwords — and settled into the function they held for much of the 20th century: a group of (white) men, initiated only upon recommendation from another member of the lodge, who paid yearly dues, enjoyed lavish facilities built with those dues, and donated time and money to local, state, and national charities.
Elks membership was fueled by a “long civic generation,” as Putnam calls it, born between 1910 and 1940, who were more engaged in community projects, more trusting of others, and far more likely to vote than their grandchildren are today. The Elks and other fraternal orders — along with bowling leagues, churches, women’s associations, and bridge clubs — offered a deep well of what sociologists call “social capital,” which, studies have shown, makes people feel more secure, less alone, and more, well, happy.
There are myriad reasons for the decay in social capital and civic investment: women moving full-time into the workforce, suburbanization and resultant commute time, television, globalization, changes in the family unit, and a general distrust and disillusion with politics and efficacy of civic engagement. The “ebbing of community,” Putnam writes, “has been silent and deceptive”; membership in nearly every civic activity, from the PTA to card games, has more than halved since the peak of involvement in the 1960s.
But few civic disengagements have been as visible as what’s happened with the Elks and organizations like it. Before World War II, membership was at 1.1 million and growing at a rate of 110,000 new members a year. In 1976, membership crested at 1.6 million, but over the next 30 years, as the “civic generation” began to die off and boomers and Gen X came of age, membership plummeted to 850,000. But 2016 marks a reversal of that trend.
Top panorana, Indiana Elks Club, bottom, the Ballard Elks Club through the years.
Library of Congress; courtesy Ballard Elks
All cities are a collection of neighborhoods, but Seattle’s location — hedged in and bisected by water — makes it more so than most. The city’s geography most resembles Manhattan: the urban core attenuated thin with Puget Sound on one side, massive Lake Washington (past which lies Microsoft and the ritzy, suburban Eastside) on the other. Instead of Central Park, there’s Lake Union, filled with floatplanes and houseboats. There’s Green Lake to the north and the polluted Duwamish River meandering south, and in between all that water, there are neighborhoods: the radical and queer of Capitol Hill, the chichi of Queen Anne and Magnolia, the hippies of Fremont, the pan-Asian enclave of the International District, the aspirational squares of Wallingford and Green Lake, the young families of West Seattle, the historic African-American community of the Central District, and the sleepy, Scandinavian-infused world of Ballard.
That is, until Amazon — and its estimated $5 billion citywide impact and 24,000 Washington employees — happened, and every neighborhood seemingly transformed into an amalgam of overpriced condos with “living roofs,” hot yoga studios, CrossFit boxes, bars with $7 microbrews on tap, and transplants willing to pay for all of it. The bad traffic got worse, the city grew even whiter, and it became impossible for most middle-class families to buy a home in the city. The dream of Seattle had been colonized by a bunch of rich dorks in performance gear who didn’t even know how to flirt.
Or so the narrative goes. In truth, Seattle’s transformation resembles that of San Francisco, Austin, and Brooklyn — and is a natural extension of gentrifying processes set in motion more than 20 years ago. While there are certainly real and distressing changes in the way that Seattleites actually live, one of the biggest changes is a state of mind: Seattle just feels different. There are plenty of Bernie Bros and kayakers to protest Shell Oil, but the things that made Seattle seem unique, its own particular sort of nerdy-nice grunge, seem to be in flux.
Memorbilia at the Ballard Elks Club.
Matt Lutton / Boreal Collective for BuzzFeed News
Few Seattle neighborhoods have experienced that change in feel as acutely as Ballard, which, more than any other Seattle neighborhood, has always felt like its own tiny town, in part because it was — at least until the early 1900s, when it was annexed, under much protest, to the city of Seattle. Back then, Ballard overflowed with Scandinavians, Norwegians in particular; according to lore, local law required a church for every bar, which resulted in a profusion of both.
Ballard was isolated, both demographically and physically, from the rest of Seattle; today, locals like to say it’s “20 minutes from everything.” One hundred years ago, most of the people who lived in Ballard worked in Ballard, whether in the marine industry, the shingle mills, or the tidy spread of shops, banks, bookstores, and restaurants that lined Market Street.
The community was bound by its common culture — a Nordic Heritage Museum, a yearly parade celebrating Norwegian independence, lefse at the local grocery store, and dozens of middle- and working-class fraternal organizations: the Sons and Daughters of Norway, a robust VFW, and outposts of the Eagles, the Odd Fellows, the Moose, and the Elks, who owned an ornate building in the center of Ballard before moving to their current location, right in the elbow of Shilshole Bay.
The route to the Elks is choked with new condo developments, their siding painted tasteful, bold colors (turquoise, mustard yellow, brick red) and lined in white trim. They all rent for about $1,500 to $3,000 and boast views of water and walking distance to Ballard Avenue, a bricked street lined with gastropubs, French brasseries, shops that sell cute sandals and even cuter baby clothes, and bars with names like Shelter and King’s Hardware that literally overflow with twentysomethings.
The sign for the Elks bears the distinctive Elks “E”: a backwards 3 that looks like it’s been scribbled in thick marker. Anyone who’s lived long in Ballard has attended a memorial, a wedding, or a party in the ground-floor ballroom, the rental of which is contracted to an outside catering company. But the upstairs is Elks territory, in all its wood-paneled glory. There’s the event space — panoramic windows, a mounted elk head, and ample space for the line dancing, Zumba, and waltzing classes — and the “social quarters,” resplendent in old photos, vinyl bar chairs, a shuffleboard table, and a digital jukebox (one night, it played Fine Young Cannibals’ “She Drives Me Crazy” on repeat).
At the bar, there’s a cluster of hunched old-timers, a baseball game on the television, and the rhythmic movements of the bartenders — blonde, slightly weathered, and unrivaled when it comes to remembering both your name and drink. But on a clear day, the real action’s outside on the deck — which is where a kayak fisherman named Brad Hole is waiting for me.
Ballard Elks Club. The back deck on a sunny day overlooking Puget Sound during the Bacon Off competition.
Matt Lutton / Boreal Collective for BuzzFeed News
Seattle weather is the only thing about the city that’s temperamental or contrary. When it hit 80 degrees late this past April, the city filled with Velcroed sandals, summer skirts, pale legs, and musty athletic gear — all of which could be found in abundance at the Ballard Elks at 5 p.m., where Brad was prepping to brief the latest crop of initiates. This month the number’s around 30; usually it hovers between there and 50.
Brad Hole is prototypical Ballard Elk: Years ago, he started using the beach as a kayak launch and joined the lodge after a friend invited him up to the bar. Today, he’s wearing a purple Hawaiian shirt emblazoned with the Elks symbol from the club in Honolulu. “I got it off eBay,” he explains to everyone who asks. “You wouldn’t believe the old Elks stuff on there.”
Brad has a jolly build and a salt-and-pepper beard; he’s somewhere in his forties, drinks Coronas, and has lived in “Old Ballard,” as people call it, “forever.” Along with his girlfriend, Anne, he functions as the club’s de facto welcoming committee, responding swiftly to emails, talking up the club, and ushering new members through initiation.
He folds and unfolds a scrap of paper where he’s doodled the major themes of orientation: Here’s what you pay in dues ($99, paid every April), here’s the good we do (thousands of dollars every year to various charities), here’s your commitment (“The Elks is whatever you make it”). All members are required to check off boxes on an application stating that they believe in a higher power and to pledge that they have never attempted to overthrow the government — a recent modification from the stipulation that members could not be Communists.
Jake and Johnny joke during the steak initiation dinner.
Matt Lutton / Boreal Collective for BuzzFeed News
Today’s group includes a broad-smiling, Anthropologie-vibed woman, in her mid-thirties, who became involved through the “Eat Ballard” neighborhood association; a couple with relaxed faces in their sixties who live in the condos next door; a real estate agent in her forties who “thought it’d be a good time to be part of a service organization”; and a youngish dad who runs a business refurbishing vintage furniture from his home, “just a pinecone’s throw away from here.” There’s also a pair of grizzly-bearded, round-bellied twentysomethings, one of whom just moved from Pennsylvania, where his grandfather’s an Elk. “I heard about the club through Rob Casey, because he surfs my tugboat wake.”
Surfs, as in rides a stand-up paddleboard behind the tug when it makes its way through the bay outside the club. Casey, who has the freckles and eye crinkles of someone who lives on the water, was one of the first to start stand-up paddling in Seattle. He’s watched as the sport, and the popularity of the beach next to the Elks, has exploded; over the last five years, he’s taught hundreds to paddle and introduced dozens to the lodge. Casey also arranges a weekly race — with a $5 entry fee — that attracts fiercely competitive paddlers, with all proceeds directed to the Elks scholarship fund. As the new members introduced themselves, a group of 20-plus Elks paddleboarders were grouped around a large table in the other room, putting the final touches on a plan that will allow them to store their boards in the lodge’s basement.
Paddleboard racing at the Ballard Elks.
Matt Lutton / Boreal Collective for BuzzFeed News
We hope you were paying attention in class.
New smartphones, Google wins a trial, and the tragic loss of our favorite Snapchat filters.
There’s nothing better than friends who like wine.
Making friends when you're a kid and making them when you're adult is very different. So, Ali took matters into her own hands and decided that she would find her next BFF:
BuzzFeedYellow / Via youtube.com
Meet Ali, a total bad-ass babe dealing with adulthood and looking to make new friends.
She's was looking for someone who was funny, supportive, trustworthy, and honest. Pretty much the basic principles you need in order to have any friendship work.
So, we helped her out and found three contestants who seemed like the perfect match. Then, we put them through two different challenges to see who had the potential to be Ali’s new BFF.
Our first contestant was Madigan, an ex-figure skater from Minnesota.
Buy a gift for dear old dad… and then buy another one for dear old *you*.
We hope you love the products we recommend! Just so you know, BuzzFeed may collect a small share of sales from the links on this page.
Love is a hell of a drug.
Drunk words are sober thoughts, literally. We decided to give these three people endless rounds of tasty tequila drinks and asked them a few questions about the four-letter word "love."
BuzzFeedYellow / Via youtube.com
First, we asked them what instrument best described love, and each answer was very unique…
...and very drunk.
Then we started to get a little bit more poetic and asked what animal reminded them of love…
YA BURNT, SON.
The Scripps Spelling Bee is a *high pressure* situation for contestants, which is why there's a "crying couch" backstage to give those eliminated a chance to compose themselves.
Alex Wong / Getty Images
A fellow who goes by Kyle Chapman, however, thinks kids should just "suck it up" and Scripps should "quit teaching kids it's okay to loose." Loose.
Twitter / Via Twitter: @themotherfanboy
And Scripps' reply? The purest, most ferocious, most mercilessly simple response possible:
Twitter / Via Twitter: @themotherfanboy
NBC / Via m.popkey.co
“Hi, what style of music do you make? Gay.”
The out lead singer of Years & Years, Olly Alexander, not only spotted the tweet but had quite a few things to say about it.
“If you think my music is gay that’s cool, I love being gay and I love my gay music but can u really label a sound or style of music ‘gay’,” he wrote on Twitter.
And stupid. Mostly stupid.
Mom's Conditioned To Bargains:
Splash Of Soy Sauce:
Crackle Crackle Pass:
India Vs. Everybody:
Keep your kids entertained without breaking a sweat.
Zoe Burnett / BuzzFeed
Fill 100 water balloons at once.
Zuru Balloons makes a ton of different colors.
This floating play center with a built-in canopy is great for babies who can't swim yet.
Find it HERE.
Your kids will spend hours drawing chalk mandalas on the driveway.
Check out this great kit by ALEX.