When The Divinyls frontwoman Chrissy Amphlett realized that her breast cancer was terminal, she had one last order of business: to repurpose her 1990 anthem “I Touch Myself” to encourage women to check their bodies for cancer.
Amphlett discovered her own breast cancer through self-examination, after mammograms and ultrasounds initially failed to identify it. She died in April 2013, but not before communicating her new vision for the hit song — originally a groundbreaking celebration of female sexuality.
Australian advocacy group Cancer Council New South Wales collaborated with a group of Australian singers, including breast cancer survivor Olivia Newton-John, to produce a powerful a cappella version of the song that serves as a PSA for self-examination.
"She would have wanted us to be more in touch with ourselves," Amphlett’s widowerCharley Drayton told The Sunday Telegraph on the one-year anniversary of her death. “To listen to what’s going on inside physically, and to be more in charge of our destiny and not wait for doctors or advisers to be in charge of us.”
36 years, 2 kids, an insane amount of heartbreaking moments, hopefully even more heart filling ones, and these two are still together.
The story of how they met is truly inspiring:
My dad was a blackjack dealer at the Landmark hotel and casino, my mom was a keno runner. One day she walked by my dad and he said, “You look good enough to marry.” And she smiled, turned to him and said, “Go fuck yourself.” And walked away.
As Noam Chomsky once pointed out for Z Magazine, old media types from the institutional bodies like American Enterprise Institute tend to regurgitate the same ideas with a reliability that is equally impressive and infuriating. While assuring the public that rape is a terrible crime, writers like Caroline Kitchens and Heather McDonald of right-wing think tank The Manhattan Institute try to claim that feminists have blown this whole rape culture thing way out of proportion.
Apparently, many women disagree. On Tuesday there were more than 1 million responses on the #RapeCultureIsWhen hashtag started by a frustrated Zerlina Maxwell in response to these right-wing narratives.
My grandma fell and broke her hip two weeks ago, had it fixed, and since then has been at rehab to relearn to walk and stuff.
I went to visit her and after hugging and catching up, we started talking about my birthday. When I said I would be 25 in 10 days she said she will die when I turn 25. She’s lived 90 years and I am the youngest grandchild, so she decided that once I turn 25, she can go and further said she was always afraid of death until now.
Then she went in to telling me I need to live my life how I want to, and do it to the fullest. That I need to fall in love and be in love to the fullest and never hold back. Then she told me I was a godsend for this family and I have a lot of Adam (my cousin who died three years ago in August) in me.
Meet the Mona Lisa of the Prado, the earliest known copy of Da Vinci’s best portrait. Similarity in the undersketch of the painting indicates that this was very likely painted concurrently with the original Mona Lisa, by a student of Da Vinci.
There is much controversy in the art world over the question of whether or not to clean the fragile Mona Lisa, but her sister has been restored and some fairly odd later alterations removed to show the original vibrant colors and lighting. Some details, such as the sheerness of her shawl and the pattern on the neckline of her dress, have become utterly obscured in the original, but in the restored copy they’re perfectly clear.
It blows my mind a little bit to look at these two sisters side-by-side and imagine how much vivid detail could be hiding in the Mona Lisa under 500 years of rotten varnish.
THE COPY HAS EYEBROWS
Your response to a beautiful piece of artwork done by Leonardo Da Vinci himself is “SHES GOT EYEBROWS”. Alright. All intelligent life has been lost.
Yo Snooty McSnotwhine, the Mona Lisa’s vanished eyebrows have been the subject of debate and analysis in the art expert community for hundreds of years, long before your parents squirted water at each other from across the clown car and then honked their bicycle horns to indicate they really wanted to make a smug, insufferable little clown baby together.
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