Fingered Teen

💣 👉🏻👉🏻👉🏻 ALL INFORMATION CLICK HERE 👈🏻👈🏻👈🏻

Quotes • Headscratchers • Playing With • Useful Notes • Analysis • Image Links • Haiku • Laconic

Why do most cartoon characters only have four fingers? Simple, a four-fingered hand is SO much easier to draw than a five-fingered hand. Plus, it simplifies the design of the hand in the same way the rest of the body is simplified.
Why is it not a problem? Because we can't count while watching a show. Some tribes use only "one, two, many". When we don't focus, we count like them. There are some fingers opposed to the thumb, period.
Although this simplification has been on a recent decline in cartoons starring people, it has never completely gone away. This only appears in more "cartoony" styles; action or dramatic series won't usually use this, and it rarely shows up in Anime for several reasons:
As a result, some (but not all) Western four-fingered characters airing in Japan have to be edited to have a fifth finger -- Bob the Builder is one of many. Strangely enough, this does not include Disney characters such as Mickey Mouse, despite Disney's popularity in Japan. (Possibly because he actually is an animal, unlike Bob, or it could just be the Grandfather Clause at work.) Additionally this does not apply to SpongeBob SquarePants or Tom and Jerry, since the main protagonists for both shows are not human. And for unknown reasons, any shows airing in the Japanese division of Cartoon Network also aren't edited, even when the shows depict humans with four fingers. Given the existence of Japanese four-fingered cartoon characters such as Yoshi of Super Mario Bros. fame, the aforementioned rule would possibly apply only to human(oid) characters. Additionally, some Japanese Funny Animal characters sport either five fingers or three, which could be more of a stylistic choice by the illustrator than regulations.
This trope is not limited to depiction of humanoid characters: Animal characters (from any point along the Sliding Scale of Anthropomorphism) can also be depicted with a reduced number of digits on each paw when compared to its real-life equivalent -- typically three visible toes on a given foot rather than four (although some of the earliest cartoons simplified it even further, depicting only two digits on a given foot). Actually, sometimes, the fact that the characters are not humans provides an excuse.
Funny Animals in particular often combine four-fingered hands with three-toed feet. This is excusable when human characters in the same context also exhibit Four-Fingered Hands, but it can be jarring if the humans have five-fingered hands, or if other animals in the same context are depicted with the correct number of digits.
Those with four-fingered hands are often seen wearing White Gloves.
Why these people use base 10 rather than the logical (for them) base 8 may be a Translation Convention. Also note that number of fingers doesn't necessarily imply a corresponding number system; numerous real life cultures have used counting systems based on numbers other than 10.
Examples of Four-Fingered Hands include:
Brian: Give me a high-five, so I know you're alive!
Alf: How about a high-four-- 'cause I ain't got any more!
Scrooge: (when doing a high- four) Give me four!
Brain: Live long and... (shifts fingers) uh...
Bart: Five fingers? Ewwww! Freak show!
Homer: If he marries your mother, Marge, we'll be brother and sister. And then our kids -- they'll be horrible freaks with pink skin, no overbites, and five fingers on each hand!
Kitty Katswell: I'd rather use my TEN CLAWS! (she holds up her hands, with only 8)
(Candy is nervous)
Random Girl: Use your fingers.

Leonardo: Hey, Raph, only a six?
Raphael: Bro, it's all I got!
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.
Fandom Apps
Take your favorite fandoms with you and never miss a beat.
D&D Beyond
Tropedia is a FANDOM Anime Community.

Sections Home Search Skip to content
Opinionator | I Was Groped on the Subway
Paul Krugman
The Trumpian Roots of the Chip Crisis
Is the Rise of the Substack Economy Bad for Democracy?
Guest Essay
Advice for Artists Whose Parents Want Them to Be Engineers
letters
Should Trump Displace Buchanan as the Worst President Ever?
Guest Essay
What Trump's Twitter and Facebook Lawsuit Is About
Farhad Manjoo
Summer Travel Post-Covid Has Arrived. Earth Can’t Handle It.
Chelsea Handler Has a Message for Straight Men
Ezra Klein
The Gavin Newsom Recall Is a Farce
Guest Essay
Germany's Apology for Genocide in Namibia Is Not Enough
Charles M. Blow
Thaddeus Stevens and the Original Dreamers
Gail Collins
Pondering Presidents — Who Got ‘Polked’?
Guest Essay
Trump Gave Automakers What They Wanted. Biden Shouldn’t.
Guest Essay
Let’s Make Google a Public Good
letters
Require a Year of National Service?
Guest Essay
A Venezuelan World Heritage Site Is in Danger
Guest Essay
Trump’s Cult of Animosity Shows No Sign of Letting Up
Guest Essay
Katharine Hepburn, Henry Fonda and Me
Guest Essay
America Needs to Break Up Its Biggest States
Did the Supreme Court Just Kill the Voting Rights Act?
letters
Should America Invest More in Amtrak?
A Gathering of Opinion From Around the Web
By Kimberly Matus
May 13, 2013 11:00 am May 13, 2013 11:00 am5
Anxiety: We worry. A gallery of contributors count the ways.
I was late as usual, weaving through the 72nd Street subway station, rushing down the stairs to catch a departing train, and managed to squeeze into one of the packed cars just in time. It was Friday, a few weeks after my 29th birthday. I was on my way downtown to my job at my family’s taxi business, casually dressed in leggings and a striped orange dress. I pushed my still wet hair out of my face and found a sliver of space to stand. As the doors were closing, one more person shoved his way in and the car let out a collective groan.
As the train pulled away from the platform, I felt a man pressing harder and harder against my backside. I tried to evade him but couldn’t move an inch in any direction. I looked over my shoulder thinking the buckle of his bag must have been digging into me but there was no bag. Only his navy sweat pants. Is that what I think it is? It can’t be.
I shifted my hip to the right and then the left, but his body shifted with me. My eyes darted to each of the commuters around me, mutely asking for help. When none of their eyes met mine, I wanted to say something but no words came out. I held my breath until we got to the next stop.
When we arrived at Times Square, I pushed passed him with the force of the other riders behind me. I said nothing as I glanced down to see the bulge below his waist.

A woman approached me as I made my way to the exit, relieved to finally be off the train. She flashed a badge. “Can I ask you some questions?”
“Oh, no, ” I said, reflexively panicking the same way I do when I pass a cop car parked on the side of a highway, even if I’m driving 5 miles below the speed limit.
We stepped to the side as people rushed past.
“I think something happened back there,” she said. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
I knew that she knew and I just started talking.
“I froze. I had no room to move. If I made a scene he could have taken out a knife,” I said, looking at my feet and feeling like a coward with a bunch of excuses.
Why hadn’t I yelled, or elbowed him? Why didn’t I ask the people around me for help? I thought for a moment that I might be crazy, that I was making it all up.
The undercover officer asked if I would give her a written statement right there. I nodded, and she handed me a piece of paper. My hand shook as I wrote, my words jumbled. Finally, I handed her the sheet filled with crossed out inappropriate words replaced by slightly less inappropriate words. She said her partner would come talk to me in a minute and pointed toward a bench. There was the man in the navy sweat pants. He sat calmly, hands cuffed behind his back with a plastic zip tie. I hadn’t even realized they had stopped him, let alone that they were arresting him.
The other officer, a man wearing camouflage cargo shorts and a ripped T-shirt, told me they were watching for pickpockets, but that groping was “the real epidemic.”
“I saw your face first,” he said. “I have daughters and a wife, so I knew right away what that look meant. Makes me sick.” He assured me there was little I could have done, that my groper had picked the busiest train at the peak of rush hour for that very reason. I clung onto his words, grateful for his empathy.
He asked if I rode the train often and if it had happened before. It had, but I had never reported the incidents and had only defended myself once, calling the guy disgusting and moving to the other side of the car.
He asked me to walk by the bench to identify the man. I hesitated, afraid to have the groper see my face, but the officer stayed by my side. I nodded my head and quickly turned in the opposite direction.
Later, when I told my friends what had happened, they hugged me and a few shared their own similar experiences. Mostly, though, they were sure they would have been tougher: they would have kicked the abuser, screamed, pushed their way through the layers of fellow riders.
Read previous contributions to this series.
My husband and I practiced how I would react if it happened again: I would use my voice. Get away from me! Back off! Maybe I would toss a few expletives in. Except I didn’t intend for it to happen again. I wasn’t planning on taking the subway anymore, at least during peak hours. When I told my husband this, he was surprised. He was used to a resilient, strong wife. He knows I come across strange characters often in my male-dominated business and he was always proud to hear how I handled myself. When a client called me Honey or Sugar Lips I’d say, “I prefer to be called Kim.” I had no problem putting my hand up to interrupt a client who was being rude to one of the other women in the office.
But the truth is, I’ve always been secretly skittish, especially when I’m by myself. When I walked down the dark, empty industrial streets near my Long Island City office, I imagined being dragged into one of the dark warehouses, and held my keys in between my fingers in my pocket for protection. Even in my Upper West Side doorman building, I scurry from the elevator into my apartment each night.
Now I am just as anxious underground. Partly, it’s because I’m terrified to see my groper, but I’m also uncertain whether I’ll be able to muster the courage to stand up to a future assaulter.
When the district attorney’s office called to review the charges of sexual assault in the third degree and forcible touching, I asked if my name could be removed from the report. He already has your name from the arraignment, they said. But, don’t worry — he probably didn’t pay attention. I worried he might come after me seeking revenge. I knew the district attorney had no case without my signature. If I wanted any chance of stopping or punishing the guy, I had to give my name and sign a formal complaint and deposition.
My fears may have immobilized me before, but this seemed like my chance to be a braver version of myself. I signed my name and instantly felt stronger. Almost strong enough to commute by subway again.
Anxiety welcomes submissions at anxiety@nytimes.com. Unfortunately, we can notify only writers whose articles have been accepted for publication.

Kimberly Matus is writing a memoir about her father’s sudden disappearance and the search to find him 25 years later.
We worry. Nearly one in five Americans suffer from anxiety. For many, it is not a disorder, but a part of the human condition. This series explores how we navigate the worried mind, through essay, art and memoir.
Students who are new to America or lack college-educated parents often don’t know their options.Read more…
Giving fishermen a business incentive to fish sustainably can “unleash their creative capacity” to help solve the problem, says one expert. Read more…
It wasn’t my heart that he broke.Read more…
What desperate, humiliating steps would I take in order to watch him play?Read more…
Even when we disguise their identities, we risk betraying them.Read more…
It isn’t unusual for therapists to get emotionally attached to people we’ve never met. Read more…
After reading so many hateful messages I began to feel sick, literally.Read more…
What this language trend says about us.Read more…
The Moviegoers pick who should and who will win at the Academy Awards — and pick apart Hollywood’s diversity problem.Read more…
The “Force” holds great appeal compared with our anxieties here on earth, as seen in other films this season. Read more…
My mother’s death was so wrenching that I applied to medical school to help change the way people die in America. Read more…
Had I prolonged my Indian grandmother’s suffering with my stubborn belief in the power of medicine to fix things? Read more…
What I learned about writing from doing crossword puzzles.Read more…
When a family commissions a work, they’re more interested in stories, lessons and values, rather than in sensation.Read more…
I’ve been drug-free for nearly a month. Here is what I learned about my own seven-month weaning process. Read more…
As I decrease my medications, the urgency I feel around men and relationships subsides. Read more…
Why can’t we all just get along?Read more…
Composing with orchestral instruments was fine. But I found a richer palette of melody, counterpoint and rhythm already in the air.Read more…
Four years ago, Disunion convened a panel of experts to discuss the outbreak of the Civil War. Now, those experts are back to discuss the war’s end, and its legacy. Read more…
If you read the series (or if you’re just a huge Civil War nerd), what have you learned? Read more…
Should convicted felons receive free health care?Read more…
Too many physicians think palliative care means giving up.Read more…
Brooks and Collins on the full extent of the Election Day devastation of Democrats, including some who weren’t on the ballot.Read more…
Brooks and Collins on conflicting responses to Ebola, the meaning of the midterms and the pleasure of voting for effective crooks.Read more…
Inexorable laws of economics aren’t tearing us apart. Our policies are.Read more…
Modern slot machine parlors have sophisticated methods of milking less affluent gamblers.Read more…
The absence of evidence, the evidence of absence, and the Iraq War.Read more…
Could Pearl Harbor be called a “failure of imagination,” and in that sense was it similar to the attacks of 9/11?Read more…
Archive
Select Month
April 2016
March 2016
February 2016
January 2016
December 2015
November 2015
October 2015
September 2015
August 2015
July 2015
June 2015
May 2015
April 2015
March 2015
February 2015
Students who are new to America or lack college-educated parents often don’t know their options.Read more…
It wasn’t my heart that he broke.Read more…
Giving fishermen a business incentive to fish sustainably can “unleash their creative capacity” to help solve the problem, says one expert. Read more…
Even when we disguise their identities, we risk betraying them.Read more…
After reading so many hateful messages I began to feel sick, literally.Read more…

Canada Sex Xnxx
Teen Incest Hd
Images Boy Teen
Sweaty Vintage Sex
China Sex Model
The First Time I Got Fingered. Was the first time I came ...
Iggy Azalea Gets Fingered While Crowdsurfing
Four-Fingered Hands | Tropedia | Fandom
I Was Groped on the Subway - The New York Times
Man Caught On Camera Groping Teen In Elevator
Dad and Daughter Have Fun on the Way to School
naughty boy and girl. - video Dailymotion
Yandex
Horror cell phone footage shows teenage girls holding down ...
The Pictures Female Tennis Players Don't Want You To See ...
Fingered Teen