We’ve got a new logo

As part of a wider evolution of our visual identity, Medipass is launching a new logo. Our old logo has served us well, but the time has come for it to evolve.

New Medipass logo

We’re proud to cultivate a culture of continuously improving our products and delivering the best experience to our customers. This year, we’ve taken some time to look inward, and we’re realigning our visual identity with where we are heading as a company: delivering the best digital health payment experiences.

At a basic level, logos are symbols made up of text and images that help to identify a brand. But when we delve a little deeper, the job of a logo is really to help our customers understand what we do, who we are and what we value.

Our old logo wasn’t living up to that task. It was created at a time when the business was in its infancy, and pointed in a different direction to where we’re headed today. It also had some technical issues which meant it was difficult to scale, and it often looked blurry — not characteristics you want in a logo!

Old Medipass logo

Our new logo was crafted in alignment with our guiding principles, and is informed by both where Medipass has come from and where we’re going in the future.

A mature colour palette; strong, crisp shapes and generous spacing deliver a more refined approach, while still maintaining a visual connection to the original.

Over the next few months you’ll see not only our logo evolve, but also other visual elements aligning to this new direction on our website, in our communication with you, and throughout our portals.

We love our new logo, and hope you do too.

The Medipass team.

Is Fashion Sustainable?

We all know that one person who is willing to spend a little more for a red stripe on a shirt than most.

We all know that one person who is more comfortable with the idea that they look nice than with the fact that no one really looks at other people’s belts.

We all know that one person who can’t fathom the idea of wearing second hand. We all know that one person who wants to own the world of leather, satin, and polyester blends.

If we all know this person it begs the question, is fashion sustainable?

For every cotton shirt there’s a person wearing it, but is that really the case? Not really, it’s easy to walk down the multitude of clothing aisles at Walmart and see people browsing but how often is that denim jacket brought to the till. The amount of water in that one jacket that was never bought, more than 11356.24L. Eco friendly denim takes about 5556.98L to produce and then to grow the cotton necessary for the jeans it’s another 6813.7L.

It’s absolutely astounding the amount of water required for such a mundane article of clothing. Water consumption is expedited by the increasing use of fast fashion techniques. Fast fashion pushes out cheaper quality clothing at a lower price for the consumer market. There’s an increased need for more water with the increase of fashion seasons per year from as little as 2 (Summer/Spring and Fall/Winter) to as many as 50. With an increase of styles needing to be met more often and with faster demand than supply there is inevitably an increase in pollutants such as CO2 being emitted from factories, not only in poorer countries, but all across the world.

It’s easy to find hundreds of articles surrounding sex in fashion. While historically a woman’s body was used to emphasize an outfit it’s making a change in current times where equal rights are the centre of attention.

The one word to describe modern fashion scenes in recent years has been declared as intimacy by many designers as well as journalists devoting their lives to the industry. A runway show in Paris, March 2018 brought up questions surrounding the use of sex in fashion. Maybe sex was used because it makes a connection in the brain “a merging of the physical, with the emotional.” Maybe sex just sells. Is sex in fashion dead? No not entirely, however the use of scantily clad women to sell a t-shirt is not as relevant as it used to be. Maybe the industry is scared of the human body due to the recent #METOO campaign. No more can you find an add for a bra that says “Sexy”, you’re destined to find words the likes of “Empowerment”, “Woman” and “Strong” this is more than a marketing ploy to make consumers think “I’m a strong woman who can feel empowered wearing these articles of clothing.”.

It’s a way to say that the company isn’t selling you sex it’s selling you power and confidence. While nothing is inherently wrong with that in the slightest, it makes people think, where to next?

With stress on water sources and movements advocating for women’s rights it almost makes you forget about the conditions in which your favourite graphic T is made. It isn’t just the fashion industry where we are subject to sweatshop labour often involving women and children; Iqbal Masih will be a hero to children and adults alike for his protests of slave labour and unfair work conditions. However when it comes to terrifying results the fashion industry has one of the most shocking stories courtesy of Canada’s own Superstore.

Joe Fresh, the in store clothing brand for Superstore was taken under storm back in 2013 for cruel work conditions. A sweatshop in Bangladesh collapsed killing more than 1000 innocent workers. The sweatshop was ordered to evacuate by police a single day before the travesty however employers ignored their duties and sent people to work as if it were another day without paradise. It’s important to note the conditions were always less than desirable, it wasn’t just a new problem that had arose without notice, people knew there were problems, yet greed over all else won the fight.

Savar Building Collapse

When great tragedy goes unnoticed it peaks my curiosity, why do people ignore death in other countries? Is it because the deceased wasn’t a minority in which case there’s no need to talk about it to prove they aren’t prejudiced. Or is it because there isn’t a connection between the cultures. Canadians were furious at the prospect of the Royal Bank of Canada (RBC) firing employees after making them train their Indian counterparts.

Yet when hundreds of people lose their life in a freak preventable accident the most that comes from it is a mere boycott. Not many Canadians have been to a sweatshop in Bangladesh so there’s no measure to understand what really goes on. We have all waited an hour in line at the bank to just to ask for a new debit card. The problem that affects us is the problem that we as Canadians, Americans or British blokes choose to focus on. In the end our needs take precedence.

We all have that friend who can’t fathom the idea of wearing the same jacket 2 days in a row. These people are often seen as annoying or arrogant but maybe they just don’t understand what their purchases are doing to the environment, or what the magazines they read say about women.

Or what if my analysis is entirely incorrect, what if these people aware of their contribution or not, are the only people who are preserving the fashion industry. We all wear clothes some obviously more than others, and it’s the more than others that the industry is supplying. They are the souls on board this flight of creativity and resource management that force the industry to be sustainable. If the fast fashion industry died out these people would have nothing to buy in turn spending their money in competing industries. It is the rich obnoxious kids of movie stars who make it possible for us the average Joe’s to go out and buy an affordable shirt when we want instead of having to let go of all our wallets dignity for that fancy pair of socks. The fashion industry will find a way to sustain itself against all odds, as long as we all know that one person who wants it too.

If we all know this person it begs the question, is fashion sustainable?

Styling React components effectively.

Styling a Front end component in the most effective way is a big challenge when designing re-usable components.

As we all know the components reflect the unique UX through out the App, theming always takes stand to provide cherishing experience to the end user.

Though global css is a history, often developers have choices when styling the components and leaving the room for theming it.

should I move my styles to inline and concatenate with the css coming as theme?

should I go with unique class pattern or a standard naming way for a class and concatenate with the css coming as theme.

Since the first choice does not allow the re-usability of css most of the front end components delivered today either with VueJs or React Js follow either unique class structure or generate a custom class of their choice.











Where as <PinCodeSearch> component takes ‘theme’ as a property preferably with possible options like ‘default’, ‘btnPrimary’ where as ‘btnPrimary’ is associated with the corresponding Button color, title color and other related styles.

Similarly <StoreViewOptions>.

Similarly <StoreList> which itself act as a container component with properties like cardTheme=’default’ for styling list of StoreCards within it and other defined themes.

This way maintaining the components and its style would be lot easier instead of passing a css class from outside and re-apply the css.

2. Style with less specificity.

Often styling may be not straight forward, another way to theme is whenever any component is tend to be re-used, style all the individual elements with less specificity. This can be achieved by avoiding sass like syntax.

Store card elements should be styled in element level fashion,

.cardNum{ @inherit bg-red; @inherit font-small;}

.title{@inherit font-bold; }

.linkText{@inherit font-blue;}

instead of

.wrapper {

& .cardNum{

@inherit font-bold;

& .title{




this way we get least specificity at the component level. Any template component if want to pass a matching property will have sass like syntax gaining more specificity.

Re-calculation of css place a vital role in painting the pixel in the browser and providing a seam less experience when user scrolls on a webpage.

inspected in chrome developer tools.

To conclude, all the variations of a component should be in corporate within the component with less specificity. Template components and global name spaces should not be the place where we write component’s styles. In cases where certain properties come from wrapper components the css in wrapper should have high weightage(not !important) derived with nested sassy like css syntax.

Push-ups and your pumper

Photo by Anthony Intraversato on Unsplash

Dear Doctor Ninja,

I’m a guy in his mid-30’s. I just heard about a study that says if you can do 40 push-ups that your risk of a heart attack is much lower. I can’t do 40 push-ups. If I train myself to do 40 push-ups, can I prevent a heart attack?


C. Hesturts

This study really made the headlines, Mr. Hesturts, didn’t it? Some of devil is in the details here — mostly having to do with “What is a push-up?”

Most people know what a push-up should look like. But for firefighters, the test that is performed has some pretty specific parts:

  1. your chin has to touch a 5-inch tall object (this seems pretty mean for tall people)
  2. your back has to be neutral (no sagging)
  3. you have to do them to an 80beats-per-minute metronome
  4. you have to do the push-ups within 2 minutes

But that’s not all, you also cannot:

  1. Do more than 3 incorrect push-ups
  2. Fail to maintain continuous motion with the metronome cadence
  3. Have any joint or muscular pain, or dizziness or unsteadiness or chest pain while you are doing the test.

So what does this all mean? Let’s break down what it really takes to do 40 push-ups:

To do ONE push-up, you have to have:

  1. the ability to stand or kneel
  2. the ability to get into push-up position (bend over, support weight with hands)
  3. the ability to keep your body straight
  4. the ability to lower yourself to the 5-inch object
  5. the ability to push back up
  6. the balance to support yourself on two hands and feet together
  7. the coordination to get down and up as well as to keep time with the metronome

To do FORTY push-ups, you have to have, in addition:

  1. muscular endurance in your chest, triceps, shoulders
  2. the ability to hold the rest of your body (some might call it your “core”) in a specific position
  3. sufficient strength to do one push-up

A push-up defined in this way isn’t a simple movement. In the end, this has more to do with exercise capability and the ability to exercise at all, than it does directly to do with heart health. Certainly the two are linked — the ability to exercise has to be satisfied before one can exercise and THEN exercise is linked with lower rates of heart attacks. But really, this study is one that compares people with higher-than-average exercise condition with people with much-lower-than-average exercise condition within a group of people (firefighters) who generally have better-than-average exercise condition.

What’s interesting is that we aren’t told of those men in the 0–10 push-up group, how many could do 0 push-ups vs any non-zero number. The kinds of things that would prevent you from doing a single push-up range from being extraordinarily weak, to a wide range of medical problems that are already linked with bad outcomes of all kinds, including heart attacks.

The other interesting number in this study is that of 1104 participants, the number of heart-related events was 37. In the general population, over 10 years, we would expect there to be about 55 first-time heart attacks (both fatal and non-fatal), so taking this into consideration, firefighters, no matter how many push-ups they can do seem to be at lower risk for heart-related events than the general population. However, amongst the firefighters who could only do 0–10 push-ups there were 8 heart-related events, which is almost 2 times higher than the general population rate which we would expect to be around 3 or 4.

The main message of this paper is that a push-up test doesn’t require a lot of fancy equipment (you need a 5-inch tall thing that will stand on its own, a metronome, and enough floor space to do a push-up without touching any walls) and that there might be a link between being able to do 40 push-ups and not being able to do 40 push-ups within 2 minutes and your first heart attack. Oddly, I think the floor space is more the barrier, given how tiny examination rooms are in doctors’ offices.

If you can’t do 40 push-ups now, then there’s going to be a certain amount of work that has to be done to get to 40. It might be a lot of work if your current number is less than 10 but more than 0. That work would be exercise. So can you prevent a heart attack if you train yourself to do 40 push-ups? Well, if exercise is linked with a lower risk of heart attacks, and you have to exercise enough to have a body that can do 40 push-ups, then yes, you’ll reap the rewards that come with that, because to get to 40 push-ups and stay there, you have to develop a habit of exercise.

Whether or not it will prevent a heart attack depends entirely if you were going to have one in the first place.

Rejecting the Narrative of Decline

I suppose it’s no surprise that, as a publication for lovers of Classics, we would have to be drawn into the continued fallout from this year’s SCS meeting at some point. Politics has a way of doing this regardless of one’s own personal intentions. That happened this past weekend. Roger Kimball, Editor-in-Chief of The New Criterion, wrote a provoking editorial about the world of Classics, entitled “Decline and Fall: Classics Edition.” The article viciously attacks Eidolon and its Editor-in-Chief Donna Zuckerberg, Sarah Bond, and Dan-El Padilla Peralta, and their responses to the recent and highly controversial SCS annual meeting in San Diego. It is a very aggressive piece, and patently offensive on multiple occasions. It also gets a few things factually wrong. On Sunday, Donna Zuckerberg responded, tweeting that it was “obvious to anyone familiar with the situation” that the article was “written after tips from/in consultation with staff of Paideia,” and that “the entire piece should be read as aligned with the ideology of Paideia.”

These assertions are completely untrue. Roger Kimball, the author of the editorial, emailed me for a quote; I turned him down flat. I then forwarded the email to Jason Pedicone, president of the Paideia Institute, who told Kimball we wanted no part in such an editorial and should be left out entirely. Kimball wrote on his own steam and any criticisms (which are deserved) should be sent directly to him. Pedicone also issued a public correction, that the separation of Paideia and Eidolon could not be described as a “palace coup.” No one at Paideia would describe it that way. We feel the separation has proven mutually beneficial.

There are reasons why the separation makes sense for Paideia. There are students who would want to study at a summer program designed by Eidolon, and students who would want to study at a summer program designed by The New Criterion; but also many who would specifically avoid such programs because of their politics. At present, neither of them run student programs. They are journals, and they profit by having a unified and focused message, even if that message might offend certain constituencies.

Paideia’s role is different. As our mission states, the Paideia Institute has always been committed to teaching all students to love Latin, Greek, and the ancient world, to helping them form their own personal relationships with antiquity, and to expanding access to Greek and Latin to those who might not otherwise have it. We are not a monolith capable of espousing one ideology, we are a collection of people with different visions of what Classics means and why it is important, and we learn from one another and try to cultivate an atmosphere of mutual respect and good will. We have always been proud that the Institute’s programs provide fora (and ἀγοραί) where different types of people can come together in beautiful, historic places, and, around a shared passion for ancient languages, can become familiar with and interrogate each others’ ideas, hopefully becoming more learned, wiser, and more empathetic. This is something I think our society needs right now. A recent incarnation of Living Greek in Greece produced a moment which for us is emblematic: a conservative Catholic from Dallas was walking along the beach in Greece with a very liberal New Yorker. Their social and religious views could not have been more different. They were trying together to figure out the sixth principal part of βοηθέω.

Open Your Hand: One Teacher’s Journey – Ilana Blumberg – Medium

Open Your Hand: One Teacher’s Journey Between Classroom and World

This essay is the introduction to Open Your Hand: Teaching as a Jew, Teaching as an American (Rutgers UP, 2018), a memoir.

December, 2016. Jerusalem. The sun shines high in the sky and the air is cool, but on my way home from the neighborhood café, I pause to take off my wool scarf because it is already getting warm. This is winter. Though we have been in Israel two and a half years now, I still find it entertaining that as soon as the Jewish autumnal holidays end, children begin to go to school in boots and earmuffs instead of the sandals and T-shirts they wore the week before. For those of us who know weather — my husband, my three children, and myself — this seems sweet and mildly crazy. I know what we are looking at in this sudden shift of wardrobe is biblical, liturgical weather, not meteorological. After the holidays, we begin immediately to pray for the blessing of rain: hence, the children’s boots.

I know about the boots because in the mornings, about 7:30, I am in the habit of watching the city walk to school. Very young children tend to be escorted by older siblings, an occasional parent accompanying or watching from a distance. Older kids, sixth-graders, also serve as cross-guards, wearing reflective vests and yelling, “Ptach, sgor,” “open, close,” to the drivers who obey these young citizens reflexively. Children here sport big and heavy backpacks: no lockers in the elementary schools. They wear colorful T-shirts with the various school insignias. By now, I know where to go to get these ironed on.

In my south Jerusalem neighborhood, religious boys wear shorts or jeans or sweatpants with crocheted kippot on their heads, girls wear skirts and always leggings, cropped in the summer, long in the winter, so they can hang upside down on the monkey bars or turn cartwheels during recess. From my balcony, I can see my nine-year old son Shai and his friend stopping at the corner market to buy a fresh roll and chocolate milk, “shoko v’lachmania.” This is a morning treat he always asks for and I sometimes allow him.

School is our Israeli education in the most comprehensive sense: as adults in my case and my husband Ori’s; as children, in the cases of Priya (12), Shai (9), and Tzipora (7). Learning what to pack for the mid-morning meal, deciphering new report card formulations, following the culturally-incomprehensible conversations on the parents’ Whatsapp group: these are our acclimation.

They are also the undeniable measure of how different we are. Many things simply do not make sense to me — that a third of the children don’t show up on Fridays, for instance, or that there are three different teachers, notebooks, and class sessions for “Reading Comprehension,” “Literature,” and “Hebrew” — and my children both fight those things and fight me for not understanding. They say, “it’s crazy.” But when I say it’s crazy, they say, “That’s how it is here, Ima,” (Mom). The implication being that if I understand how school works, I might begin to understand an entire society.

And they are not wrong. I am coming to know Israel through its educational institutions, just as I learned America as a student and then a teacher. Granted, one learns only sub-cultures, but now from the vantage point of a different country, I see that sub-cultures, too, are rich and telling, if partial, indicators of host societies.

While this story will end in Jerusalem, it is mainly an account of teaching as a Jew and an American, a perspective sharpened now by contrast. Born in Israel in 1970 to two American parents, I grew up in the United States from the age of two and was educated in its private Jewish schools and then its research universities. Over time, I became a teacher, a scholar, a writer, a wife, and a mother in the U.S. From my first, formative job as a kindergarten-first grade teacher in a tiny, innovative Jewish day school in New York City, to my decade and a half teaching in major Midwestern research universities, to my volunteer hours in a failing urban public school, what I know about education I learned on American soil. It is also fair to say that much of what I know about America, I learned in and from its schools. American, as well as Jewish, experience shaped the questions of faith and citizenship that arose from my double vocation of teaching and writing. These questions now shape this book that is being written in Israel.

This book — and a swerve in my professional trajectory — was prompted by a crisis fifteen years into my university teaching career, a dramatic moment in which college students I particularly liked prompted me to ask myself whether I was successfully transmitting anything that mattered, as I taught year after year of humanities. In a new course I had fatefully titled, “Truthtelling in American Culture,” I found my students pushing me to reconsider the most basic assumptions I held about my work as a teacher, a vocation I could not separate from my identity as an observant Jew and a passionate American.

Simply put, I had been teaching with the belief that there was no meaningful education — whatever the immediate content — without ethics. That the deepest purpose of teaching and studying, particularly the humanities, was not self-advancement nor personal pleasure, but the transformation of a world in urgent need of intelligent, sustained care. I had believed that my students knew this about me and about our study, and that we were involved in a shared endeavor, even if only within the limited space of our classroom, over a single semester.

Yet my students did not reflect such an understanding back to me. In fact, as I will narrate later on in these pages, at the moment of my crisis, they reflected back something like the opposite. The great majority expressed no need to “give back,” to share, to consider their advantages or the disadvantages of others not represented in our classroom. They left me confronting anew my place as a person of faith in a secular academy, facing fundamental questions about my vocation. Why did I teach? Why did I teach where I taught? Whom I taught? What I taught?

Over time, as I recovered my equilibrium and examined the intensity of my own reactions, I refined the questions. What was the relationship I sought between teaching subject matter and skills, on one hand, and teaching moral values, on the other hand? How might one teach values in a public institution without advocating a particular politics or faith? On the other hand, how would one avoid teaching values? What was my role as a teacher in shaping young citizens in a democratic America? How was I choosing which children and youth in which to invest my time and best energy? If I were free to do so, how might I remake a teaching life — intellectually and practically — to address the pressing historical reality in which I found myself as a Jew and as an American at the turn of the twenty-first century?

These questions ushered me into a new phase in my professional life in which I found myself traveling, in memory and actuality, across the variety of classrooms whose dramas make up the bulk of this narrative. I have always tended to consider myself a teacher before a “professor,” in part because I have been fortunate to teach in a range of settings wider than many humanities professors traditionally encounter. I came to the world of the university after teaching young children in a fledgling Jewish school in New York City whose ambitious intellectual mission was in no way separate from its moral vision. My questions returned me now to memories of those formative experiences at Beit Rabban in the early nineties. I unearthed photographs, one video, and many written records: from detailed accounts of class sessions I had reconstructed on the same day they had transpired to the occasional letters I had written to send home to parents; from examples of student work I had collected to my notebook of lesson plans penciled in the barest of shorthand. I re-read our curriculum from those years and engaged in new conversations with the school’s founder.

Even as I found myself absorbed by the past, my questions demanded new action and new research. Prompted by the class sessions that had disturbed me, I set out both to volunteer my skills and to learn the realities of public education in the poorer districts of my home state, Michigan. I found my way to what turned out to be an appallingly failed public middle school. I arrived there every other week for a few months in the winter and spring of 2012 to teach young teenagers some poetry and encourage them to write.

I traveled from that school back home to Ann Arbor, where my questions accompanied me through the rituals and improvisations of mothering my three young children with my partner, Ori.

And though I continued to teach my courses at Michigan State University, the questions encouraged me to arrange for our family to travel to Israel the following year, on my sabbatical. Fourteen months later, we returned to Israel as immigrants, my husband and I bringing our American democratic ideals to this modern Jewish sovereignty. Now, in the imperfect democracy that is Israel, my questions present a new face, as I find myself teaching in university classrooms paradoxically more diverse and less segregated by race, religion or ethnicity than any I ever encountered in the United States.

Perhaps the distinguishing feature of this book will be my travel among classrooms, as I pursue a unified project that became more distinct to me as I tested it across diverse settings. Simply put, I sought to help students come to see themselves, in moral relation to others, by reading and writing as a community. While this story is idiosyncratic to my own circumstances and commitments, I hope it will be meaningful to all adults who see themselves as learners and teachers — whether in their homes, their classrooms, their work or volunteer places, their houses of worship, or their recreational spaces — and who know that there is more work to do than any one of us can do alone.

(Posted with the permission of Rutgers UP)

Can You Hate the Person and Still Love the Art?

On being continually disappointed by artists

Photo by Getty Images

It seems almost a weekly occurrence that we hear about yet another celebrity or artist who has severely transgressed against someone.

Sometimes it’s disappointing: accusations that a women felt pressured to be physical with Aziz Ansari. Sometimes it’s horrific: I’m looking at you, R. Kelly.

In the last year or two, it has been an endless cycle of celebrity men, even women, behaving badly. It usually results in fans having to participate in a full on boycott. No more movies. No more streaming. No more music. Concerts cancelled. Refunds given.

In most cases this hasn’t been a difficult reconciliation for me. The boycott doesn't really affect me as I never really invested much time in the artist.

Louis CK? Whatever. He’s funny but I can live without him. Kevin Spacey? I have admired his work but if I had to give up his movies I could probably move on with my life.

The boycott is not only a means of denouncing the artist but also a demonstration supporting the victim(s). But what happens when the victim is collateral damage?

Boycotting Harvey Weinstein also means that you’re not throwing your support behind the people that were victimized by him. No Harvey = no Frida = no Salma. That doesn’t feel good either.

And what happens when you truly love the art?

When news broke last month about what Mandy Moore and Ryan Adams’ relationship was like and all of the women who came forward to say they were victimized by him on some level, my heart sank.

Photo of Ryan Adams via Getty Images

I goddamn love Ryan Adams’ music. Listening to him has been a near daily occurrence in my house. I still contend that Oh, My Sweet Carolina is a goddamn great song regardless of his behavior.

So, it begs the question: can you hate the person and still love the art?

As he was one of the highest grossing performers of all time, I am sure that in the aftermath of Leaving Neverland, there are millions of Michael Jackson fans asking themselves the same thing. Does the fact that he’s dead change the landscape a little? It is possible to listen to Michael Jackson in clear conscience but not Ryan Adams?

Then there’s the acts of contrition. When the text messages emerged between Aziz Ansari and his date, he was clearly contrite, acknowledged his behavior, apologized. Does that make it okay to start watching Parks and Recreation again? Because a world without Leslie Knope is no world for me.

It’s a first world problem, for sure. I can’t be the only person torn by pressure to acknowledge things that only indirectly affect us by virtue of just sitting like a pit in our stomachs. And we have so many other things of our own to worry about. But still… I don’t have an answer to the question. Maybe you do.

Stacey Dooley gets celebrity support from Barbie Savior

Stacey Dooley in Uganda with Comic Relief. Photograph: @sjdooley Instagram

Last week was a tough one for Stacey Dooley. The injustice of being labelled a “white saviour” while innocently Instagramming in Africa was bad enough. Worse, was being accused of it while innocent as to what a “white saviour” even was. Stacey wondered at one point if it had something to do with being white, but is still awaiting an answer on that, from horrible MP David Lammy (you know, the one whose righteous anger captured the collective public mood over last year’s Windrush scandal when he called it out in Parliament as a “day of national shame”).

But the worst of all the atrocities of last week was the suggestion that Stacey Dooley look up No White Saviors (NWS) which was ridiculous, as if a bunch of African snowflakes would know what it feels like to be a white celebrity falsely accused of being a white saviour.

Luckily for Stacey, celebrity Africa-Instagrammer Barbie Savior reached out on social media, a few days ago, with a supportive tweet and some helpful hints on how to handle the haters, drawn from her own Africa experiences of recent years.

Barbie Savior in Africa, November 2016. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Barbie Savior’s first tip was simple: ignore the haters! Just stay focused, Stacey, on your truth, on what drew you to that black baby in the first place. They “take the BEST pictures!”

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Next, Barbie Savior advised Stacey to let the haters know (like BS always does when Instagramming with black babies) that it isn’t fair to judge a single photo without knowing the meaningful context, ie, what went on just before Stacey picked up what’s-his-name:

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

And for those who cynically question the depth of the bond between Stacey and her little scruff-muffin? Well, Barbie Savior was unequivocal. It’s simply something that only a fellow Africa-Instagrammer can understand:

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

But Barbie Savior did advise Stacey nonetheless (as haters are gonna hate) that it is important to share follow-up photos, so detractors can see that even though what’s-his-name did look uncomfortable with being exploited he really WASN’T (uncomfortable). Some black babies take time to warm up.

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Next, Barbie Savior advised that Stacey insist on an acknowledgement of her hard work at looking hot in poverty pics, and not let herself be shamed for it by the likes of that frump from the Daily Mail, Jan Moir, who had the audacity to ask the obvious: “has she applied a post-production vanity filter to make her eyes so blue, her skin so clear and her teeth so bright? Since that would be so ghastly and inappropriate, such a glutinous splotch of first-world narcissism in the middle of this dusty safari of poverty, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt and presume she hasn’t.” BS urged Stacey to be proud of her touch-ups. Own them out loud! After all, BS knows that “taking selfies in Africa is NOT for the faint of heart. It is an art form.”

Stacey Dooley in Uganda with Comic Relief. Credit: Stacey Dooley/Instagram

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Next, and Barbie Savior was passionate about this one, urging Stacey: do not apologise for the caption: ‘OB.SESSSSSSSSSSED.’ Inspirational quotes under pics are E. SSSSSENTIAL, after all, in BS’s own words (or are they Gandhi’s?): “if you put an inspirational quote under your selfie, no-one can see your narcissism.”

Stacey is ‘OB.SESSSSSSSSSSED’ with what’s-his-name

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Then, Barbie Savior urged Stacey to make sure and post photos of a VARIETY of places in Africa during her time there. Just look at what that know-it-all black woman writer Ateh Jewel (who should be grateful she’s being allowed to write for the Telegraph) had to say: “it wouldn’t be so bad if other images of Africa were widely known and shown.” That was no doubt a sly dig at Stacey’s lovely and typical-of-literally-all-of-Africa shot of a shack:

A Stacey Dooley photo of Uganda. Credit: Stacey Dooley/Instagram

So, Barbie Savior advised that Stacey stay ahead of detractors like hater-Ateh by posting one photo from a city for every thousand from a village:

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Next, kill off those savage claims, once and for all, that Instagramming-a-stereotype-whilst-in-Africa is a practice rooted in colonialism, urged BS, a claim that is so wrong! Everyone knows it’s rooted in The Lion King!

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

And finally, turn this injustice into an opportunity, Stacey (this is very much Barbie Savior’s approach to life’s challenges. Just look at her amazing charity, Harness the Tears, where she recycles Western tears over Africa’s poverty into water for poor Africans: “harnessing broken hearts to provide water to those in Africa, one tear at a time.”) Barbie Savior insisted there was NO NEED for Stacey to contact No White Saviors to learn about the white saviour complex, just know that (A) she DEFINITELY doesn’t have it. And (B) it’s bad. In fact, it’s “the WORST.” Perhaps Stacey can think about joining the fight against this upsetting white saviour complex by advocating too, together she and BS can save Africa from this hideous scourge!

Barbie Savior in Africa. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

Barbie Savior’s charity Harness the Tears. Photo: @barbiesavior Instagram

All Barbie Savior images and quotations cited by the author are courtesy: https://www.instagram.com/barbiesavior/

For more on Barbie Savior see: barbiesavior.com



For more on No White Saviors see: https://www.instagram.com/nowhitesaviors/?hl=en

For more on No White Saviors and the Stacey Dooley/White Saviour row:


How to care for a Betta Fish – Luke Maynard – Medium

(Koi Betta)

How to care for a Betta Fish

Betta fish (Siamese Fighting Fish) are a wonderful pet, in my opinion. They are very soothing to watch and relaxes me when I'm stressed. You'll often see them in a tiny dirty cup at a pet store (especially Walmart 😑) rotting away. So if you got one, and don’t know how to care for it, then you found the right article.

1. Tank: The bare minimum is 2.5 gallons but I recommend 5 gallons.

2. Temperature: 78° to 80° degrees Fahrenheit.

3. Ph: Bettas thrive at 6.5 to 7.0.

4. Decor: You can have plastic or live plants, but I recommend live plants because they remove harmful ammonia, provide oxygen and they look amazing.

5. Food: I use soaked pellets and frozen bloodworms, and it’s good to have variety.

6. Water changes: You should change 20–25% of the water weekly.

7. Love: Always give them lots of love ❤❤.

8. Tank mates(optional): betta fish like to be alone, but you can add tank mates depending on its personality.

  • Ghost Shrimp: 5-gallons or more.

(Ghost Shrimp)
  • Feeder guppies: 8-gallons or more.

(Feeder Guppies)
  • Neon Tetras: 10-gallons or more.

(Neon Tetra)
  • Cory Catfish: 10-gallons or more.

(Corydoras Sterbai)
  • Harlequin Rasboras: 10-gallons or more.

(Harlequin Rasboras)
  • Nerite Snails: 5-gallons or more.

(Horned Nerite Snail)
  • Ember Tetras: 10-gallons or more.

(Ember Tetra

I hope this will encourage you to get a betta fish or take the best care of the one you got😉

Thanks for reading!! Check out my YouTube channel❤❤


Some Thoughts on Lakes & Now Wolves by Scott Metz (Modern Haiku Press, 2012)

I find this one to be a great book for artistic inspiration as well as a fascinating read. Metz can write wholly memorable haiku (hear them once and they’re with you forever) in the traditional sense.

among the waves
in the Sea of Japan
a woman’s perfume


New Year’s Day — 
the wreath has fallen
between the doors

But he’s also interested in exploring (and evolving) the other forms which micropoetry can manifest. So there are monoku and vertical poems playing with the infrastructure of syllabification, morphemes and phonemes. Philip Rowland’s useful introduction draws comparisons with language-poetry and poets like Robert Grenier. And then there are poems that sound like Dr. Williams as much as they might suggest Aram Saroyan at his best.

most of
what is


a wild


That insistent meaning to be had in separation of particulars probably emerged in Williams more strongly than it did in any poet of early Modernism. It’s with us still, because it’s a useful aid in the practice of seeing, a phenomenological tool. Slow down the stream of language and the tendrils that form around words in the currents of thinking and speaking begin to show. I think in the poem above it all come down to the word “patch.” The patch of beauty. The patch applied as poultice to the mind. The patch a multiplicity. The patch between that is communication. How we patch into the world. We still don’t know what “most of what is right is” with any certainty. But it’s in that patch. All definitions are ultimately circular at some level. It’s the quantum uncertainty Williams fell naturally in sync with in poetry as it entered the world in science. I like the coolness of the poem, its shadowy mind. It makes a sacrament out of very little and I think the sacrament feels nice.

This is the sort of book I know I will reread many times. Because there is no obtrusiveness of form or ego or even voice. The sense of voice is pleasantly splintered. If Iceland spar could cause voices to go prismatic the way it does images, the voices might vary in the way the poems do in this collection.

without permission part of me begins to bloom


& now wolves
entering Pegasus


the double 
image of


@ gunpoint

This book wields an imaginative heft wildly out-of-proportion to the number of words that actually appear on its pages.

Modern Haiku Press showed eminent good sense in bringing this bellwether title out, since it’s a great example of what I want to call freeku (Metz often refers to his work as merely “ku.”). Nothing wrong with seeing the free and the freek both in that neologism.

Haiku in English is doing very well after roughly a century of adjustment and growing pains. Once it shook that 5–7–5 syllabification motif (which never worked in English; Japanese is so different) haiku was able to breathe again. The whalebone corset had been cast down. The condescending Orientalism of Lowell and company was jettisoned too. Kerouac’s wild-heeled dancing in the form helped quite a bit to loosen things up. Kerouac turned out to be a true adept at Americanizing the form. Other Beats showed proficiency as well, and the era of bad copies began to draw to a close.

What remains now is one of the most interesting and underrated literary forms in English. When I think of what great haiku accomplish in a few seconds, I think of the way we interact with a stranger we will only see once in our lifetime for a few seconds, how important it always ends up being. Though it is a stranger. Though very little will be said or exchanged in glances. Though it will be all construction in two minds that won’t really meet. And yet they will. And they do. In that quick string of moments. To make a successful haiku is to make a believable stranger. A stranger of the sort you might wonder about for the rest of your life. Although, if someone were to ask you about the chance meeting, you wouldn’t really be able to explain. You can’t explain the quantum side of things. And that’s the strange thing about haiku. If it’s good, it always pops up like a stranger, one who makes you realize this is always another lifetime all over again. Metz’s book is a gallery of such strangers, a whole Station of the Metro.

I think with time we will realize that well-written haiku will age better and translate better than many other literary forms which will become trapped in time, in dated literary mores. like ancient insects in amber. Haiku’s insistence on the concrete and the immediate is what gives it galvanic energy to move forward in time.

It’s 8:14 p.m. Do you know where your Basho is?