nevver:

Steve Thomas
Workplace Propaganda

immoraltales:

Abdullah Biraderler veya “Abdullah Frères” Türkiye’de fotoğrafçılık sanatının kurucuları olarak tanınan ve her üçü de Ermeni asıllı olan Viçen (1820–1902), Hovsep Abdullahyan (1830–1908) ve Kevork (1839–1918) kardeşlerin ticari adıdır.

youmightfindyourself:

Warhol’s famous cover for The Velvet Underground & Nico. The album cover consisted of a plastic yellow banana that the listener could actually peel off to reveal a flesh-hued version of the banana.

eskiesvaplarim:

Ali Nazik:”Kusura bakma agam! kendimi kurtarmam gerekti…”

Muhsin Bey:”Kurtardın mı bari?”

youmightfindyourself:

A shadowy online company selling suicide kits recently claimed its first confirmed victim. Winston Ross talks exclusively with the entrepreneur behind it: a grieving 91-year-old woman.

The paramedics who showed up to Nick Klonoski’s house on Highland Drive four months ago discovered the 29-year-old’s lifeless body, covered up to the neck by a blanket. It was his brother Jake, detectives learned, who’d found Nick lying in his bed less than an hour beforehand, a clear plastic bag over his head, and a plastic tube running from the bag to an orange metal helium tank. Next to the tank was a white box, decorated with a butterfly, the box the plastic bag and tube had arrived in the mail in, with a book titled Final Exit inside.

“Is it the book and the kit?” asked the first police officers to arrive on the scene. The paramedics nodded knowingly. “Yep.”

These materials were assembled and sold to Klonoski last June for $60 by a company that calls itself the Gladd Group, which is not really a group at all. It’s a woman from the San Diego suburb of La Mesa, California, named Sharlotte Hydorn. She is 91 years old.

Each of the kits Hydorn assembles by hand is a simple contraption designed for a single purpose: people kill themselves with it by encasing their head in a bag of helium, which is lethal in pure form. People like Klonoski, the son of a U.S. district judge and whose funeral was attended by more than a thousand people. The Gladd Group’s estimated annual sales are $98,000. That means Sharlotte Hydorn sells more than 1,600 suicide kits every year.

“I’m too busy to cash the bloody checks,” she told The Daily Beast. “I haven’t made a deposit in three months.”

You have probably never heard of the helium-hood kit. Neither had Oregon State Sen. Floyd Prozanski, until he read a newspaper story published last month about Klonoski’s death. The horrified legislator quickly floated a bill to make it a Class C felony to sell such a kit. The first to testify at his April 11 hearing was one of Klonoski’s four brothers, Zach. Zach told the state senate judiciary panel that “my brother Nick was a beautiful person…It would be a disservice to him to remember him only for the way he died.”

Zach didn’t discuss his brother’s reasons for killing himself, but Nick’s mother, U.S. District Court Judge Ann Aiken, told police he’d been running every day and had been in an upbeat mood, despite battling a severe cold over the past several weeks. Klonoski’s brothers told the Eugene Register-Guard that he’d battled bouts of pain and fatigue for years without a diagnosis, that he was depressed about the effect that had on his life, and that he was worried he’d never regain his normal health.

“This is analogous to putting a gun-vending machine next to a depression clinic.”

Klonoski wasn’t terminally ill, so he wouldn’t have qualified for lethal prescriptions provided to eligible Oregonians under the state’s Death With Dignity Act, one of only two states that allow assisted suicide. But he was able to buy Hydorn’s kit on the Internet, to rent a helium tank from nearby Party City for $175, and do the job himself.

This, an emotional Zach testified at the hearing earlier this month, should be illegal.

“In a society where so many people suffer from depression and other mental-health disorders,” Zach said, “this company has found their niche in the market by peddling death. This is analogous to putting a gun-vending machine next to a depression clinic. The Gladd company, so named as to avoid suspicion in case family members happen to sign for or come across the package, made $60 off my brother’s death.”

Though Hydorn admits she did sell Zach’s brother his implement of death, she makes no apology for it. She has a story of her own.

It was 30 years ago, Hydorn said in an exclusive interview with The Daily Beast, that her husband, “a six-foot-four, wonderful, handsome, loving, intelligent man,” was dying of colon cancer. After several operations, the cancer had spread to his brain, and surgeons had cut a hole in his stomach, out of which came his excrement, into a bag.

“It was my duty, and I did it willingly, to empty that thing every three or four hours,” she said. “One time I ran out of bags and went all over town looking for a pharmacy that sold them. Even years after my husband died, I would wake up and say, ‘I’ve got to go get those bags.’ ”

No one should have to go through that, Hydorn said, to die a slow, painful death in a hospital bed. “Death should be with loved ones beside you, holding your hand.”

Not long after her husband died, Hydorn met a man named Derek Humphry, a longtime advocate of assisted suicide and founder of the Hemlock Society, which has worked to change laws prohibiting the practice around the country. It was Humphry, in 1992, who penned Final Exit: The Practicalities of Self-Deliverance and Assisted Suicide for the Dying, which effectively serves as a manual for how to kill yourself and which Humphry told The Register-Guard sold 500,000 copies in the first six weeks.

(Editor’s note: This is like The Complete Manual of Suicide all over again.)

benboylegoruyorum:

Ya aşağıdasındır , hayatta ; ya da yukarıdasındır , cennette … 

(via istanbul / bobiler.org)

(via Nothing Really Mattress - Boing Boing)

Vivian Maier: photographer / nanny

balaenoptera:

The saddest thing I have ever heard:

I just read a comment from a 2004 article by the ny times about the loneliest whale in the world. scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:

she isn’t like any other baleen whale. unlike all whales, she doesn’t have friends. she doesn’t have a family. she doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. she doesn’t have a lover. she never had one. her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. but her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. it is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 51.75hz. you see, that’s precisely the problem. no other whales can hear her. every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. each cry ignored. and with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.