Stonewall Riots, June 28, 1969 (and following days)

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Stonewall Riots, June 28, 1969 (and following days)
Nicolas Cage wearing a Nicolas Cage t-shirt, a photo: Actor proves he’s aware that he is a walking meme.
Fuck his t-shirt, I need to know what the hell is the story with the rest of the outfit.
Airplane! (1980)
So one of the first loves of my life died today.
RIP Rik Mayall
pedro pascal: jenga extraordinaire (or pedro pascal: the giant five year old)
Now THAT'S jenga
"can i come in?"
"i don’t know, can you?”
cursing quietly, the vampire backed away, foiled yet again by the english teacher’s pedantry
keytar backup?! truly outrageous!!
This Teacher Asked Her Students to Write to an Author. Kurt Vonnegut Wrote Back This
In 2006 Ms. Lockwood, an English teacher at Xavier High School, asked her students to write a letter to a famous author. She wanted them discuss the author’s work and ask for advice. Kurt Vonnegut (1922 – 2007) was the only one to write back and his advice is worth reading.
Dear Xavier High School, and Ms. Lockwood, and Messrs Perin, McFeely, Batten, Maurer and Congiusta: I thank you for your friendly letters. You sure know how to cheer up a really old geezer (84) in his sunset years. I don’t make public appearances any more because I now resemble nothing so much as an iguana. What I had to say to you, moreover, would not take long, to wit: Practice any art, music, singing, dancing, acting, drawing, painting, sculpting, poetry, fiction, essays, reportage, no matter how well or badly, not to get money and fame, but to experience becoming, to find out what’s inside you, to make your soul grow. Seriously! I mean starting right now, do art and do it for the rest of your lives. Draw a funny or nice picture of Ms. Lockwood, and give it to her. Dance home after school, and sing in the shower and on and on. Make a face in your mashed potatoes. Pretend you’re Count Dracula. Here’s an assignment for tonight, and I hope Ms. Lockwood will flunk you if you don’t do it: Write a six line poem, about anything, but rhymed. No fair tennis without a net. Make it as good as you possibly can. But don’t tell anybody what you’re doing. Don’t show it or recite it to anybody, not even your girlfriend or parents or whatever, or Ms. Lockwood. OK? Tear it up into teeny-weeny pieces, and discard them into widely separated trash recepticals. You will find that you have already been gloriously rewarded for your poem. You have experienced becoming, learned a lot more about what’s inside you, and you have made your soul grow. God bless you all! Kurt Vonnegut
Anatomically correct, Salvatore Zanfrisco