Looking back on 2020, I think it's hilarious that Wellerman of all shanties is the one that blew up online. It's not a song about life on the high seas or adventuring
It's the "Where the fuck is my delivery" song
Monterey Bay Aquarium

if i look back, i am lost

Love Begins

No title available
todays bird
trying on a metaphor

Janaina Medeiros
Peter Solarz
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

tannertan36
KIROKAZE

Andulka
tumblr dot com

roma★
Cosmic Funnies

shark vs the universe
cherry valley forever

JBB: An Artblog!
art blog(derogatory)

izzy's playlists!

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@chrono2x
Looking back on 2020, I think it's hilarious that Wellerman of all shanties is the one that blew up online. It's not a song about life on the high seas or adventuring
It's the "Where the fuck is my delivery" song
Bro videos are always 🔥 💯.. instant collaborations
I've been dying to embroider a manga panel for a while now. I was gonna start with One Piece, but Kamome Shirahama's art called to me haha. Some of her lines are too delicate for my thread, but I'm gonna try to get it as close as possible.
Progress!
Finished this embroidery! I spent so much time on the stones, I actually pulled thread and redid them at one point.
I'm very happy with how it turned out!
today I found out my mother doesn’t know what dandelions are and now I’m wondering what other strange secrets she’s been quietly harboring
Where do you live that you don’t have dandelions?
we have dandelions EVERYWHERE, they are basically our State Weed, it is absolutely impossible that my mom has never interacted with a dandelion before, this requires further investigation
So after extensive interrogation I have an update:
my mom is in fact aware that dandelions exist. she temporarily forgot the name and there was some miscommunication.
the truth is actually weirder
she’s aware dandelions look like this
she is familiar with this flower. she knows the name of this flower. she declines to believe, however, that these are also dandelions
she does not believe these are the same plant. I tried to explain, and she thought I was either misinformed or lying. so I asked her what exactly did she think the yellow ones were called?
she answered, with complete confidence: Daffodils.
gosh I enjoy this website
For comparison, this is a daffodil
See, folks in the southern US will tell you up and down those are buttercups, actually.
i don’t think so? i’m southern and buttercups are what we call these things (much tinier)
Wait I thought those bigger cup ones were Easter Lillies???
This is an Easter Lily. It is an actual lily and therefore deadly to cats.
They’re marigolds and I know a bitch when I see one!
This is a marigold:
….we need to start taking the phrase “go touch grass” more literally. go outside and examine a flower i beg u
i just drew some BULL SHIT!!!!!!
i love this tag i laughed in real life out loud thankyou agentarc
Let's ambush mama! 😼
"Why do Pallas cats always look grumpy?"
"Pallas kittens."
The sheer roundness of this kitten must be admired.
The face of a mother who knows exactly what is going on behind her
divert all power to the funk engine
a single, solitary, earth-shattering note thunders across the battlefield like a tsunami.
Today's Adventure is that I, after an unintentional 13-hour power nap,
Got woken up at 6AM by a phone call from a friend stranded in Montana because of the heat wave and almost no cell service because of their crap provider.
OhSoThat'sHowIt'sGonnaBe.jpg
Ok.
I somehow summon a week's worth of spoons and in less than 30 minutes and 5 phone calls, get them
A hotel
An appointment with a mechanic from 2 states away
A perscription refilled from 2 states away
and A Pizza
Go me.
But then it's 8AM and there are unscheduled live humans at the door and while EVERGENCY MODE is still on, I have already blown through a ton of spoons, and also probably shouldn't meet whoever it is wearing just a pair of bootyshorts that say "CRYPTID" in Gothic Font on my ass.
So I greet them in those shorts and a T-shirt that I manage to put on both inside out and backwards
#nailedit
It is, Fortunately, not the mormons.
it is, Unfortunately, two UPS guys trying to deliver my other in-house friend's new phone except the new guy doesn't know how to operate the "sign for package" device, and the old guy that's supposed to be mentoring him is like, 92, deaf as a post, and doesn't actually know how to operate the device either.
by the way
it is already
over 100 out
it takes almost 30 minutes to sign for the phone
when i get back inside, i discover that apparently the Corgi has learned how to open his kennel from the inside because he is now out of the kennel and waiting for me to come in.
he also has cat litter all over his face because while he was waiting for me he also learned how to open the baby gate to the cat's room and help himself to a cat shit breakfast.
He'll be fine
He's a cattle dog, they're legally required to have at least 1 really disgusting snack they love.
but
more to the point
i have no idea at what point he learned to open his kennel from the inside
has he been staying there out of politeness this whole time??
And
I got other shit to do today.
namely.
I'm seeing a realator
The Devils most pathetic yet effective demons
I get a reminder text that I have an appointment with her
at least
I think that's what it is because what she sends me is: "🏡⏰12:00 ❔"
With the time typed in the middle like that.
She is, according to her profile, at least 80.
so I reply "😎👍"
and then she sends me a string of GODDAMN POST-MODERN EMOJI HEIROGLYPHICS THAT TAKE UP MY ENTIRE SCREEN.
She's on an iPhone so half of them don't even translate across platforms
It takes me half an hour and three different software programs and goddamn wingdings to translate, but she has sent me the address and rules about masking and not wearing shoes inside.
in emoji
instead of like
literally any other format
I am
FASCINATED
and simply must meet the woman so if I don't come back to update I got stolen by the fairies but I'm taking the Corgi with me as protection so I'll see y'all later.
Update:
It's not fairies
It's Doris.
might be about to get a sewing machine and/or start an ACAB riot.
Ok, so:
I'm going to see a prospective house because due to various circumstances, I'm probably going to be moving to the other side of a major metropolitan area in the next few months, but that's not important.
I get to the house
I get a text from the realtor
The realtor is not the person who has been texting me in emoji
The person texting me in emoji is the homeowner, who the realtor says will let me in if I want, she's running late.
Sure
Why not
I put Herschel on leash and go to the front door
As much crime as he commits at home Herschel The Hanukkah Goblin has terrific public manners, and is Very Cute so I'm about 90% sure the emoji fairy is going to let me take him through the house
Door opens.
90-something blue haired old lady with a spine like a question mark and glasses that could be used as telescope lenses opens the door.
"OH [Gallus]! How lovely to see you!"
This woman clearly knows me because she remembers my anniversary was last week and that my sister is back from Australia.
Problem is
I know about 500 geriatric ladies with blue hair, scoliosis and extreme prescription glasses, because I am a member of 2 quilt guilds, the scientific illustration guild, the rocky mountain SCA and stagehand for three different theater companies, so I know everyone's grandma and fuck me if I can tell them apart.
Wait
There's a quilt in thekitchen, visible front hall
I don't know faces but apparently I can recognize applique techniques at 40paces.
"...Doris? From SAQA?"
"YES! Who is this handsome little man?"
Herschel speaks enough English to know that "handsome little man" means "this person will feed me milk bones and bacon if I'm cute enough"
Immediately does a Sit Pretty and Shake.
Doris is bewitched
This is fine, but I also know I'm about to severely disappoint the realtor because there is no way in hell I'm moving into this House.
Because
The reason Doris is moving out is that her neighbor is a Cunt Magnifique and has been harassing Doris and everyone else to form an HOA and "improve the quality of our residents" because this woman has nothing better to do than be a racist-ass busy body, and recently, she's set her husband, a county sheriff on Doris, trying to bully her into signing paperwork and threatening her with legal action and writing her up for bullshit property violations
Ain't putting up with that shit
And neither is Doris, so she's selling all her shit and moving out to live with her grandchildren in Santa Monica.
But she's technologically impaired, so the only indication that there is an estate sale happening is a small paper sign in her front yard.
"Doris." I say, as Herschel makes himself comfortable on the couch for belly rubs and pieces of ham. "Did you tell SAQA or FRCC or anyone on Facebook that you're having the sale?"
"oh, I don't know how to do all that!" She sighs. "I tried to call the Denver post but they just put me on hold for ages..."
"Watch Herschel for 20 minutes and he's only allowed to have that one piece of ham."
Pics of everything
Address, time and pics to Facebook, both quilt guilds she's in, two more I have contacts for, nextdoor, and the local SCA discord for good measure.
It's 12 minutes and Herschel persuaded her to give him at least three pieces of ham.
He is petitioning for a fourth by doing a little puppy dance on the living room rug.
"OK, that's enough ham, people will be here in 10. Where is your cash box?"
Because apparently I'm running an estate sale today too.
It's fine :)
There's about 7 minutes of quiet.
Then
They DESCEND
The first on the scene is DeeDee, who doesn't believe in speed limits. She's arrived with a horse trailer. I remember that she is also moving.
"HI DORIS SWEETHEART WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL I HAD NO IDEA THIS WAS TODAY I WAS GOING TO TAKE ALL THIS TO THE GOODWILL HERE LET ME SET UP ON YOUR LAWN "
DeeDee is 73, and has a special spiritual bond with Hello Kitty. She weighs like 98lbs, dresses exclusively in neon pink sanrio clothes and the kind of eye makeup drag queens aspire to.
She also speaks non-stop at a volume normally associated with jet engines.
Half the horse trailer is already spread out on the lawn.
Doris is putting price stickers on stuff
Herschel is trying to tear open a bag of cotton batting.
This, and the arrival of approximately 56 minivans, five more trucks with horse trailers and Corgi Excitement Screaming alert Cunt Magnifique that something is happening outside.
Madame saunters off her porch up to Doris and Demands to know what's happening, you're supposed to notify the neighborhood and get a permit to-"
Doris, surrounded by her pack of silver wolves, shouts. "OH HELLO! EVERYONE, THIS IS MARCIA. I'VE TOLD YOU ALL ABOUT MARCIA." >:)c
... further details in a bit I think the Vikings are here.
~`* SOMEONE'S GETTING FIRED!!*`~
OK so.
You know those high school house parties you see in movies, where the person invites only a few friends, but those friends call their friends, and those friends call THEIR friends and soon like 500 people show up to one house and someone calls the cops and that one John Mulaney sketch with "SCATTER!" happens?
Old people will 100% do this too, except instead of a house party it's an estate sale on a wednesday afternoon and when the cop shows up there are lawyers present and he is in DEEP SHIT because his wife just spent the afternoon admitting to doing a bunch of wildly illegal shit on tape.
So when we left off, the party had really started getting underway, because Marcia the Cunt Magnifique had decided to crash the estate sale and whine about "we're supposed to coordinate garage sales as a neighborhood" and "your friends are blocking traffic on this cul-de-sac while nobody is home" weh weh-
DeeDee is about ready to throw hands but she is nowhere near the most dangerous of the Silver Silver Wolves.
That's Dr. Ruth.
Dr. Ruth turned 99 this year and went paragliding for her birthday
So you understand just how hard she goes
Dr. Ruth sort of hobbles over and point-blank asks "So I understand you've been trying to start a homeowner's association?" :3c
Marcia
Entirely misunderstanding how much danger she's in
Starts enumerating the TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS of trying to start one, because SOME PEOPLE DON'T RESPECT AUTHORITY and all the paperwork and talking to people and she even had to ask HER HUSBAND. A SHERRIF. To go around and hand people stuff to sign.
Some people, right?
Dr. Ruth nods. Some people. She agrees.
You know.
Her son is a lawyer.
Why doesn't she give him a call?
Marcia, a Moron: Oh that'd be great!
Dr. Ruth, hobbling back to Doris: "Don't worry. David will handle this."
Meanwhile
The Friends-Of-Friends and the Friends-Of-Friends-Of-Friends are arriving, lured in because they heard the words "Longarm Sewing Machine" and "Hand-made quilts"
Various factions present include but are far from limited to: -Probably Six Quilt Guilds -The Denver Art League -The Denver Leather League -The Vikings -The Klingons -The Colorado Wild Game Share -A Pack of Scientific Illustrators -A Pack of Assorted Scientists they brought with them -The Sheep Lesbians -The Horse Lesbians -Three Extremely Competent Finnish People (My Scientific Illustration Professor and her sisters) who immediately take over the estate sale and turn it into an auction to maximize profit and keep the taxes in order.
Someone brings two additional Corgi called "Cap" and "Bucky"
They are Pembroke Corgi, and weigh about 21lbs apiece
Herschel is a Cardigan Welsh Corgi and weighs 42lbs because he's hug even for a Cardigan, and is Delighted with his New Minions.
They worship him as a God and follow him around so every time he sticks his face in something two smaller corgi faces immediately follow, like some kind of adorable cerberus.
Pelts and meat shares are being traded out of the backs of trucks and vans
Someone is making bratwurst.
Intrigued by the Brouhaha, Doris' neighbors emerge.
They are also Geriatric and very nervous, because Marcia has been harassing them too.
They are telling this to the members of these factions that are also lawyers.
There are at least 5 of them so far and David isn't even here yet.
I realize my realtor isn't even here.
I decide to text her.
She is somewhere in the crowd and having a nervous breakdown because She's SO LATE!!!
Ma'am.
It's 103 out.
I was just handed a freshly grilled Brat
Some bitch is incriminating herself on the lawn.
Nothing scheduled is happening.
Come sit in the yard and watch the Corgis play on the Palyskool plastic slide set. They're disassembling it like tiny furry engineers.
Have a bratwurst.
One of the Klingons appears, having physically carried my realtor through the crowd, and gently deposits her on the lawn before handing her a Bratwurst.
Diane, the Realtor, is not much older than I am, and from the preppie swaths of society that has "Never had a dog growing up" and "Didn't Know People Could Just. Make. Blankets?" and "What is this? It's like a hot dog but spicy?"
She is having a LEARNING EXPERIENCE.
One of the Horse Lesbians comes over and compliments Diane on her Dior handbag.
Diane thanks her ans compliments the apparently expensive brand scarf she has on. Do you. Know all these people?
Horse Lesbian explains that she's part of the SCA, and what that is, and that why yes. Her girlfriend Tasha is an armorer. Yes like for knights.
More Livestock Lesbians assemble.
They are pulling off shirts to show off livestock and battle scars, and biceps.
Diane is LEARNING A LOT TODAY.
I am just getting everyone's contact info and making sure Herschel does not consume his weight in bratwurst.
BWOOP!
Uh-Oh.
Marcia's Husband is here.
I step out front.
He has used the siren to largely part the crowd and pull into his driveway but it has closed around him and there is No Escape.
He starts huffing and puffing about blocked traffic and permits and the like, but this is not his usual Can-Bully-Without-Consequences crowd.
These are Grandmas.
Veterans of the 60's protest front who never let up.
He's starting to turn bright red and looks like he's about to cry and I've got my phone out to record whatever Incident is about to occur.
-And a Mercedes pulls up.
It's David.
Dr. Ruth's son.
The Lawyer.
And I emphasize that The because David is not some mere ambulance chaser.
David is the guy that the state sends to prosecute Corporate Fraud and Organized Crime and Other State Departments.
David was part of the team that took down the CO Branch of the KKK.
David is all of 5'4", very round and a balding little man that looks like the Dictonary Definition of "Nebbish" that moves with such intense confidence and authority that he pretty much has the Pillar Men Theme Blasting behind him at all times.
So when he and three other lawyers from the state's office step out of the car
Mr. Sherrif goes from red to while like color-changing octopus and I am like 50% sure he shit himself.
Because what he and Marcia have been doing is Very, Very, Very, VERY, Fucking Illegal.
"mArCiA!" he garbles. "sHuT tHe fUcK uP!"
Marcia is standing in the middle of the cul-de-sac, having spent the last 3 hours recounting to anyone who will listen about the 'measures she's had to take' and now the 5 lawyers that were here are delightedly handing over the paperwork that she had forced on Doris and her Neighbors, and pointing at all the doorbell cameras and witnesses out to the state's top prosecutor.
Friends
I ugly laughed.
FOUR HOURS LATER: -Auction wrapped up with a solid $40K to Doris' name plus pending sales on some of her larger furniture and antiques
Plus whatever David gets in damages from the county sherrif's office.
Marcia and husband are fucking busted
Herschel spent all afternoon running around and eating snacks and is passed out on the floor
Diane is "meeting up with" one of the Horse Lesbians next week.
The sewing machine went to someone else but I did open my purse and found out Doris or someone shoved a bunch of cash in there.
I'm getting ice dream and going to bed.
#stefan voice: this post has everything #senior citizens. quilts. hello kitty. vikings. horse lesbians. legal consequences. finnish auctioneers. one realtor’s gay awakening. corgis.
(@nonasuch)
I've been dying to embroider a manga panel for a while now. I was gonna start with One Piece, but Kamome Shirahama's art called to me haha. Some of her lines are too delicate for my thread, but I'm gonna try to get it as close as possible.
alright I've got to do some quick math to explain attitudes towards AI to my boss.
we're looking to create an AI policy, and when we were talking about this, my boss (older millennial) was genuinely shocked to hear that younger people do not (seem) to view AI positively (a la the recent commencement speakers being booed)
please rb for larger sample size!
Question 1/3
What is your age, and do you feel AI is a net positive or net negative in our lives today?
under 18, AI is a net positive
under 18, AI is a net negative
18-29, AI is a net positive
18-29, AI is a net negative
30-45, AI is a net positive
30-45, AI is a net negative
46-60, AI is a net positive
46-60, AI is a net negative
over 60, AI is a net postive
over 60, AI is a net negative
Question 2/3
How often do you visit or interact with museums/archives (whether in person or online)?
Frequently (multiple times per month)
Often (multiple times per year)
Occasionally (a couple times per year)
Rarely (once every couple of years)
Never :(
Question 3/3
If you saw a museum was using AI in exhibits, marketing, research, etc., would you be more or less inclined to visit that museum?
under 18, more inclined
under 18, less inclined
18-29, more inclined
18-29, less inclined
30-45, more inclined
30-45, less inclined
46-60, more inclined
46-60, less inclined
over 60, more inclined
over 60, less inclined
Thank you for helping with this data collection. Please rb for as big a sample as possible!
🫶
Witch Hat Atelier by Kamome Shirahama // Wisdom to Heal the Earth by Rabbi Tzvi Freeman
Severely underrated dynamic is Murderbot and Pin Lee. She taught it how to swear!! It bickers with her the way it bickers with nobody but ART. Pin Lee will call it an asshole to its face then defend to the death its right to be like that. It flips her off and it trusts her judgement absolutely.
Pov you're Three and multiple fuck off massive ships saw you from across the bar and liked your vibe ✨
Very vaguely inspired by this from Platform Decay (mild spoiler):
Murderbot Books as Textposts
The thing that I think really sets Murderbot apart from a lot of other robot media (particularly mainstream entries like the I, Robot movie) is that bots and constructs aren't a uniquely oppressed class, and humans aren't a uniquely privileged one. A lot of robot media rings a bit hollow because it portrays humans as all living a lavish, comfortable lifestyle, free from the burden of physical labor or control by their corporate overlords, and it's like. I think if the rise of generative AI has proven anything, it's that corporations and billionaires have absolutely no interest in making life easier for anybody, but will gleefully use new technology to make life infinitely worse if it means an extra buck in their pocket.
We are shown over and over again throughout the Murderbot Diaries that humans are mistreated just as badly as (or sometimes, in MB's own opinion, even worse than) bots and constructs. We see humans stripped of their rights, reduced to corporate assets to be bought and sold, sent into suicidal situations, abandoned and discarded as things. We see humans trapped in multigenerational labor contracts -- people born into an indentured servitude that requires them to pay back their food and lodging to the same company that will not let them leave.
None of these are hypothetical scenarios. These are all things that happen to real people in our world today.
And that is a huge part of why it resonates so much. The overarching theme of "capitalism is hell" actually means something because it isn't only applied to the fictional dynamic of bots vs humans. The theme is constantly reiterated through the humans themselves.
And that's also why it's so important that MB demonstrates empathy for and solidarity with humans who are themselves victims of the system. Because ultimately, that's one of the main things the series is about. It's about what it's like to be simultaneously a product, and victim, of a corporate hellscape.
That theme simply can't work if the humans aren't also forced to navigate that issue. If the story can't acknowledge that right now, in our own world, there are humans facing these same problems, and that these human rights matter quite a bit.
Night Watch is one of Sir Terry’s most hopeless novels - and, by the same token, because of the same things, one of his most hopeful.
It’s a parody - and I use that word very loosely, because there’s really nothing funny about it - of Les Miserables. It’s about a failed revolution, and a barricade, and the people who fought and died there for nothing. Nothing changes. Politics with a capital P goes on, and even the most pure and noble of intentions only becomes food for the pit of snakes who pull the strings. The powerful remain powerful, the powerless, despite their solidarity, their desperation, their violence, their hope, remain powerless. Their little lives don’t count at all. Things continue exactly as they always have, minus a few faces in the crowd.
It is also, I think, where we see Sam Vimes at his lowest. Sure, Thud! does similar things in stripping him down, but that is under an outside influence, and he has his family to think of. He has something to fight for.
In Night Watch, though, all of that is taken away. Sam Vimes, eternal cynic, for once has Cassandraic knowledge that his cynicism is absolutely founded. He knows how this will end, and there’s no Corporal Carrot to make the world magically better around him, no Sybil and Young Sam to push through for, no city to protect. The absolute best that he can expect is to succeed, and lose that family, that future, forever. The absolute worst? He dies. Everyone he cares about here dies. And it’s all in vain.
Sam Vimes is an alcoholic. It’s something that we tend to bring up when we’re talking about how amazing he is, how much he’s overcome, but gloss over otherwise. Which is a little sad, because it’s fundamental.
Sam Vimes faced this exact dragon, years ago. Sam Vimes saw there was no way to slay it. He saw the ants eating at the heart of every hope, every effort. He saw the first man he really knew as a good and kind and just - but never passive, never weak - man die, horribly, slain for no reason but petty grudge and Politics. He saw John Keel’s garden wither and die in its bed. He saw the hope of a better, brighter Ankh-Morpork squelched, and the sacrifice of a good man wasted. He saw the world, in all of its rotting, miserable, pestilent despair, spoiling every good thing that dared show its face, its only ordering principle the slow decay of entropy.
Young Sam Vimes had no anchor. Young Sam Vimes had nothing left to turn to but the bottom of a bottle and the smelliest part of an Ankh-Morpork gutter.
Sam Vimes, as of the events of Night Watch, is back there. Not only physically temporally displaced. He has nothing. There is no reason for him to stand up, to take on the role of John Keel, to take responsibility for the barricade, to try to bring Carcer back to justice. To fight the doomed fight. There is nothing between him and finding a quiet seat at the Broken Drum, ordering himself a pint, and giving up. There is nothing between him and despair.
But he gets up anyway. He intervenes anyway. He tries to help anyway, even when he can’t believe it will make any difference. And it doesn’t, in the end.
Except that people lived who, save for the actions of John Keel, would have died. Except it quite literally meant the world to them.
And that’s where the hope is hiding, in this hopeless, bleak, despair of a book. There is no glory. There is no revolution. There is no good thing that cannot be corrupted. There is no point. Except.
The Disc turns on the ‘except’. Always has. Always will.
The hope across the whole arc of Discworld is that things can, if good people try very, very hard, go from extremely awful to only very awful, and that’s worth it.
Overall, the Discworld series is very hopeful about the grand scheme of things and the effect people, no matter how small, can have on it. But Night Watch is not about that. Night Watch is about what happens when ‘things’ don’t get better. When the grand scheme of things isn’t impacted at all, either way, by the actions of individual people. Night Watch is about what happens when the hope runs out. When the ‘worth it’ runs out. When all that’s left to do is save what little you can, because you can.
That’s why there are no monuments to the Glorious Heroes of Treacle Mine Road. In the grand scheme of things, nothing they did mattered. But they are remembered, because they need to be remembered. Because sometimes what we do does not matter.
And when that happens, all that matters is what we do.