biglawbear:

angel-derangement:

“we live in an uncaring universe” yeah dude and I live in an uncaring house. and I shit in an uncaring toilet. but do you touch an uncaring lover? do you comfort an uncaring child? do you guide to sleep each night a cold and uncaring self?

“In the same way your heart feels and your mind thinks, you, mortal beings, are the instrument by which the universe cares. If you choose to care, then the universe cares. If you don’t, then it doesn’t.” - Brennan Lee Mulligan, Fantasy High S1E17

Anyway please click on OP’s post like I did, intending to reblog directly therefrom

And enjoy

(via vaspider)

popculty:

elektraking:

ALT

THIS^^^

And if you do get paid for your ideas/writing during the strike, that is considered scabbing and you will be barred from the WGA for life, as per this email from the Blacklist:

(via tygermama)

superhell:

yebisu:

ephemeralhorror:

ephemeralhorror:

i get that i can expect to see the “unreality” tag a lot on my stuff. i post a lot of weird eldritch shit and even when i post something that isn’t it’s still deeply steeped in my nonsense.

but i’m fucking losing my mind at how even my posts that are correct and true will be tagged that. fatal incuriosity is inescapable when you’re me.

my “a coin is a three sided object. never forget that.” post earned an unreality tag at one point

i’m sorry but maybe you’re not the best watchdog for what’s real and what isn’t, champ. i think being the arbiter of reality requires at least a basic understanding of 3d space.

tumblr users experiencing “unreality”

i once posted the south up map in here and someone tagged it unreality… buddy that’s the earth……..

(via caterwaulraejepsen)

brightlotusmoon:

dathen:

beggars-opera:

panicedgannet:

beggars-opera:

I spent so much of my life romanticizing the Great and Powerful Enormity of the Sea, reading about the salt and the sweat of the sailors straining to haul the sails or anchor while dreading the monsters in the cold, icy deep fathoms below…and now you tell me that a fathom is only 6 feet deep -

Six feet is still more than enough for a grave.

Hi, that is the most metal addition you could have possibly made to this post

It just means the monsters below are closer than you think.

Thanks I hate it.

This is a most horrific and delightful series of posts

(via skrytch)

jaijabbers:

speakswords:

Just saw a Barbie ad here for the first time. It is starting, folks. They must already be desperate if they’re buying ad space on TUMBLR.

Do not reblog official marketing or ads from struck works

including (but not remotely limited to) Barbie. They are advertising here because their actors are on strike and will not promote their products.

Barbie is not a struck work. It is okay to reblog barbie content. It’s done and finished. Going to premiers for it is crossing the line. But going to the regular ass movie is not.

Read me and read me good: not seeing Barbie is a great way to show execs that we don’t care about writers and actors.

Let me say that again: going to see Barbie is GOOD for the strike. Many people who WORKED on barbie are striking. They probably have not been paid yet.

The unions HAVE NOT asked us to picket the movie. Just the premier.

The original post is disinformation.

I believe it to be coming from a good place but avoiding works that are NOT being struck is genuinely harmful to the cause.

(via vaspider)

bigscaryd:

gmbeowulf:

bigscaryd:

Barbie is Jewish.

Barbie’s mother, Ruth Handler, was Jewish. This isn’t actually that cryptic.

Yes, you got it, but our nonsense brains at least rhyme.

spacelazarwolf:

APPARENTLY when u don’t drink water u feel like shit. APPARENTLY.

But are we SURE

Maybe I’ll not drink water

For a while

To see

FOR SCIENCE

skullamity:

fantasticait:

todaysbird:

todaysbird:

todaysbird:

fun fact about me: When I was 6 years old I sent so much hate mail to the president (the second Bush) that the mail carrier had to tell my mom I needed to stop before we got FBI’d

I was COMPLETELY unaware of the US political scene or why the adults in my life hated Bush, but I knew I hated him because he let people shoot wolves from helicopters and that’s mean and shitty

I also had a poor grasp on how stamps worked, so given that I wasn’t allowed to continually throw money away by putting stamps on my presidential hate mail, a lot of the times I just drew squares with little pictures inside on the corner.

Love, love, love reading more proof that everyone should encourage the children in their lives to write to elected officials–it teaches them about citizenship and can also be very funny.

When I taught second grade, one of the options for students who had finished their work was to write a letter to the president. I would send all of the letters in a big envelope at the end of every month.

Watching my students get more and more frustrated with him (and concerned about his wellbeing) was not the result I’d hoped for when I came up with the idea, but it was kind of hilarious.

See, Obama had a standard packet with information and activities about his dog he’d send in response to letters from very young citizens…and of course his office sent one back to our class every single time we sent mail.

So eventually all of the letters looked something like this:

Dear President Obama,

I am writing about the environment. I am sad that the Great Barrier Reef is hurt. Also the Amazon Rainforest. Can you help? PLEASE DON’T WRITE BACK TO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DOG AGAIN. WE ALREADY KNOW ALL ABOUT BO. WE COMPLETED THE MAZE AND COLORED HIM IN. It is good that you love your pet a lot. But try to remember the environment. It is also important.

Loving this post, not least because it reminded me of this email and attachment that my kid’s 5th grade teacher sent us last November.

Context: we are Canadian, our provincial government is currently conservative and the CUPE strike was for teachers and support staff at an adjacent school board that didn’t affect my kid’s school but was talked about with them in the current events/being active in your community sense.

This is the email I opened:

and this was the attachment:

I haven’t thought about this for months, so thank you for inadvertently reminding me it existed so I could lose my shit laughing about it all over again!

(via noggin-the-nogg)

cronepunk:

redstonedust:

also im growing to hate the phrase “hold accountable” in discourse because its always so…. empty? like you see people saying “sure this person apologized, but we need to hold them accountable!” like cool. what does that mean. how can you get any more accountable than a public apology. do you want them to apologize… again? more? get a tattoo explaining their crimes so everyone they meet is informed? do you want accountability or are you repeating buzzwords because you cant find a nice way to say you just want them to disappear.

Previous tag:

#they mean revenge

That’s it right there.

xinsey:

i’m about to tell you the actual funniest thing i’ve ever heard.

i’m training to become a sign language interpreter, and today i asked my mentor about weird jobs she’s been on. like has there ever been one that when she left she was like “what the actual fuck just happened to me?” and i swear her soul transcended this plane of existence for a few minutes while she told me this story.

a few years back she and a colleague got an interpreting assignment from the agency that said “spice party”. so it was like a tupperware party where someone works for a company that sells a product, and they invite people into their home to show them the product and then the guests can place an order and buy the products and in this case it was spices.

they get there, and ring the doorbell. the host opens the door and tells them that the guests haven’t arrived yet but that they’re welcome to go into the other room to look at the products so they’ll know what will be discussed during the night.

so these two interpreters were like pfft spices?? lmao we don’t need to look this up, there’s salt pepper and chilli like how hard can it be. so they walk up to the door. open it. look into the room where this spice party is supposed to take place. and stop dead in their tracks.

flashback to when the interpreting agency got the order from the host of the party. apparently it said “it’s a party where they can order products from a company called something something spicy”. so this old little lady that handles the orders just thinks “hey, it says spicy, so that must mean spices right?” she rewords the order and sends it to the interpreters.

fun fact. that company did NOT sell spices. these two interpreters open the door expecting oregano or some shit and they get dildos. just. everywhere. dildos. lube. vibrators. condoms in 75 different sizes. it was a sex toy party.

the guests arrive. this is a small ass town. the interpreters know everybody at this party. throughout the night the guests can go into a private room with the host to place an order, and the interpreters have to come along because the host is the one who is deaf. to this day they see these people on the street and have to be like “hey :)” because it’s a small town, everyone knows everyone, and they have to say hi to people knowing that they have a two foot dildo and licorice flavoured lube at home.

anyway what i got from that story is that i picked the right profession.

(via aggiehufflepuff)