Cassandra Jean on Instagram and Society6
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i don't do bad sauce passes
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Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
One Nice Bug Per Day
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Monterey Bay Aquarium
cherry valley forever

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YOU ARE THE REASON
Jules of Nature
Peter Solarz

ellievsbear
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DEAR READER
trying on a metaphor
ojovivo

Kaledo Art
seen from Canada

seen from Germany
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seen from South Korea

seen from Türkiye

seen from Germany

seen from Morocco

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
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seen from Morocco

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@attempting-tobecool
Cassandra Jean on Instagram and Society6
Follow So Super Awesome on Instagram
who was the first animal to fuck instead of budding or something.. he mustve been like mm.. oo damn girl this feels good LOL
microbrachius dicki
loch ness monster
fuck ness monster
fucking was invented in Scotland
You’re goddamn right it was
Confession: I used to belong to trump culture.
Not entirely willingly, mind. I was young, religious, and I made the naïve mistake in thinking that all Christians were like the ones I had encountered at my home church: warm, tolerant, kind. I fell in love, and we did what young, hormonal Christian teenagers did: rushed into a marriage.
I realized my mistake almost immediately, but it took far too long to get out.
Personally, I endured abuse at the hands of my new husband—mental, physical, sexual, economic, emotional. You name it, he did it. Brutal is an understatement. He systematically broke me down until I was a shell of a human being. I’m still dealing with the emotional fallout and physical side effects, and I probably will be for another decade at least.
That’s personally, but let’s talk his family. Because he was an extreme case, yes, but he was raised with the idea that women existed to keep their mouths shut and their legs open. I spit out two children faster than I could whip my head, because birth control wasn’t part of god’s grand plan for my life. I was fulfilling my purpose as a mother, and wasn’t that great? My husband didn’t want the first baby. He wanted me for himself, see? Abortion was unthinkable, but he fully expected to carry a baby—my baby—to term, then give it away.
Keeping him was my first rebellion. Keeping the next one was my second.
In the time I belonged to that family, I watched my mother-in-law endure the same, though less extreme mistreatment. I watched every young female family member be groped by the family patriarch. “That’s just how it is.” I was shamed for making a fuss about it. I watched an older cousin try to sexually assault my teenage sister-in-law and she was the one who felt ashamed. We women made family dinners while the men sat on their asses. My husband and I lived with his parents for a short time. She and I would go to work each morning—an hour each way—with our husbands sitting in their robes in the living room, playing video games. When we returned hours later, weary, exhausted, they hadn’t moved. The standard greeting? “What’s for dinner.”
That’s his family, and yes, some families are sexist, but let’s talk about church. That’s where all of this is validated, encouraged, taught. Imagine my shock, when I went to my new husbands’ family church and encountered muted xenophobia and racism, a heavy dose of homophobia, and some damned overt sexism (see above.)
Equal roles, but different. Sound familiar? This is still being taught to little girls today.
In church, I listened with quiet disgust as pastors preached about how awful my sister—one of the gays—was. I piped up and asked how that sexual sin was any different than the two young church kids who’d just been caught “in a bad way”, soon to expect their first baby. Sexual sin is sexual sin, isn’t it? I sure did get an earful for that one. We did church boycotts: Disney, Target. Every Sunday School class: Job, cookies, and lets pray God saves the moos-lims before they all come over and blow us up. We revered people with white savior complexes who went to be jesus’s hands and feet and save the poor, helpless Africans.
Hate and ignorance, wrapped up in the holy Scripture. Hallelujah.
Meanwhile, I endured this abuse. This abuse, and every door slammed in my face as my husband hit me, tortured me. “Stay true to your vows,” the pastor would say. “You have communication issues,” our sister-in-law would tell us. My mother-in-law: “Linds, you just have to accept it. Love is a choice.”
“But what about the part where it says that husbands are to love their wives like Christ loves the church?” I asked.
My brother in law, joking: “This is why women aren’t supposed to speak in church.”
This America is alive and kicking, kids. It’s never gone away; it’s just been lurking, behind closed doors. “Pass the casual racism and meat loaf, would you? And get me a glass of water while you’re up. Ketchup, too.” What I’m scared about, truly, is that I know this. And these ideas are now validated. Now mainstream. Almost 50% of our population believes this is a good idea.
“It’s our time to take America back.”
What in the hell, if they’ve been saying these things behind closed doors, and if they believe them In The Name Of God—what in the hell are they going to say in the open, now? What in the hell are they going to do?
The 50s are revered as the aspirational yester-year, days gone by. Progress, as we call it, is godlessness to them. We, the godless libs, took Jesus out of schools. We’ve gone wrong ever since.
This is the America people want back, and that’s my first fear.
The second is this:
I got out. And I’m terrified that this, my success story, won’t happen anymore.
I’m the rare statistic. I un-brainwashed and educated myself. I got counseling (against every Christian advice) to treat severe post-partum depression. In the process of becoming a healthier person, I realized what a goddamn mess I was.
It took three tries and a pastor-pseudo-therapist legitimately telling me, “You know if he hits you again, Linds, I’m going to have to tell you to leave.”
All regretful, like it was bad news.
“Why should I stick around and wait for it to happen again?” I asked.
He didn’t have an answer. I left the next week.
It took a few boldfaced lies (it’s temporary, it’s just a separation), and a few miracles, and a large support system of family and friends who all but plucked me out of that hell.
For leaving? My price was excommunication. From his family, our friends, our church. I am the heathen who Divorced my Husband and broke our home. In that entire city, only three people talk to me now.
(No loss, but it took a long time to recognize that.)
I never, ever would have made it on my own. I had two small children, a new job that barely paid a living wage, and I was, as I’ve said, a shell of a human being. I left him and went straight to the human services office. Without subsidized childcare, healthcare, and food supplements, we would have starved or been homeless. It never would have been possible.
These are the services that will probably be cut first.
How will anyone in my situation ever be able to leave? They won’t. Not to mention federal funding for shelters, crisis counseling for families, healthcare for abused women, and legal services for domestic violence victims. Throw in a court system that doesn’t value women, and a cultural mentality that believes what happens behind closed doors should stay behind closed doors… What hope do abused, trapped women have? None in hell.
If this is what makes America great again, I want out. I’ve been there, done that, and I’m never, ever doing it again.
You’ll take it back over my cold, lifeless body.
This is the dark, dirty secret of Amerika: Women are not free.
Sometimes the help you need isn’t the help you want. Call 1-800-273-8255 if you’re thinking of suicide.
This comic meant a whole lot to me. It was sincere in its depiction and treated the issue through the eyes of a grounded person. Not some godly hero saying everything is better than it seems, but a person trying his best before bringing her somewhere who can actually help.
#SO DANG PURE!
1998 nickelodeon trade ad
It’s amazing how they could make an ad from 1998 that looks like a shitpost made a week ago.
Here’s a template
Things come along like this that make the internet so special, I AM IN FUCKING TEARS
IT’S BACK
i want this on my blog at least once every 6 months until the day i die
AFTER ALL THIS TIME I finally realized why this video is so funny to me and it’s that they manage to move exactly like an SFM animation and I’m not really sure how that’s even possible
romesh ranganathan is the most passionate drunk history narrator of all time
“That’s a whole bruvah!”
What is the greatest gif of all time?
Nick Lang - One of my favourite things that Matt ever said was during the Harry Potter sequel. Darren like didn’t have his lines memorised or something like that and it was after a run-through and Darren was doing a bad job and Matt said “Darren, I don’t know how and I don’t know when, but I will be the one to kill you.”
My cat gets really excited when I carry stuff. It doesn’t really matter what…
GIVE HIM THE ITEMS!!!!!
My roomba is scared of thunderstorms
I was sitting at my desk just a few minutes ago, drawing, and a really loud crack of thunder went off–no power surges or anything, just thunder–and my roomba fled from its dock and started spinning in circles
I currently now have an active roomba sitting quietly on my lap
Humans will pack bond with anything.
I had a teenage girl come into my tea shop with her mother the other night. She purposely grabbed a teamaker in the most crunched-up looking box on the shelf (got banged around in shipment) and carried it protectively over to the counter. “If something’s in a damaged box I have to get it because I’m afraid no one else will love it,” she laughed nervously.
Not only will humans pack bond with anything, the empathy level of adolescent girls in particular likely has puppy-saving, world hunger-solving, war-ending powers.
I once saw a really bumpy lime at the grocery store, just a real ugly fruit. Later that night my boyfriend & I were driving home from rehearsal at like 11:30pm & passed the grocery store & I stared crying & he said “is it that lime? Do you want to go back and get it?” And I nodded and pulled the car around and bought the lime.
When I was 6 or 7ish my family went Christmas tree shopping. There was this one tree that had a solid foot of trunk that didn’t have any branches right in the middle and I cried to my family that we should get it because it will never be picked. I literally sobbed in the middle of the tent set up for a solid 10 min about how i felt bad for this tree. Christmas trees are expensive. My family bought a big, full lucious tree. And I still worry to this day about if anyone ever bought it and had presents under it, or if it just ended up in the garbage
Reason 24601 to love @thejoemoses
i hate the customer service stage of friendships, that exhausting stage where you have to pretend to be constantly enthusiastic and your answer to everything is “i don’t mind! :)” ..they’re the customer and i’m trying to sell my friendship and my fear of being disliked is my asshole manager