I cannot stress enough that this meme is entirely literal. there's no reference or subtext you don't know. these are simply the objectively most popular works of art from each denomination.
(Mouse requested a bedtime story about “nothing.”)
Once upon a time there was nothing, and it lived in the corner of Mouse’s room. There was space between the bed and the cupboard that was big enough for nothing else.
There wasn’t much room for nothing in Mouse’s house. Everything everywhere had something in it, and sometimes more. Everywhere that looked like it might have nothing really had something, like dust or a cornflake or a LEGO head or a shadow, and if it looked like there was nothing for even a moment, someone would come and put something there.
It was very hard to be nothing in Mouse’s house. Every corner had something in it, and if it didn’t, there was a spider living there. Everything was always some colour or another, and usually some noise. Everyone was always putting a book down on you. Or spilling Ribena on you and pretending they hadn’t. Or complaining that there was no room for anything, and shifting about all the other things, but never making room for nothing - only moving it uncomfortably about the house. “Nothing’s ever where I put it in this house,” they’d say, but complaining.
And even when they weren’t doing all that, they were always talking about nothing. Someone would always be tripping over it, and then would yell that they had tripped on nothing - there was no privacy for nothing around here - or they were saying that nothing was wrong. Even when it was quiet someone would say, “did you hear that?” And, “what was that?” And, “it must’ve been nothing.” They would poke it; and then say out loud that they had poked nothing, but never got into trouble for it!
As a result of this, nothing began to feel cross, and put-upon, and uncomfortable. It was also a bit lonely, and wondered if it wanted to be something. So it thought very hard, and was SOMETHING.
This was certainly more interesting, and everyone came and looked at it, and said Look At That Thing, and That Really is Something. They poked it, and said they had poked something, and that something was there. They said, “I can smell something,” but with more interest this time. Then they spilled Ribena on it, and something came out of the corner and ran about the house, and everyone wanted to know all about it, and why the Ribena was in Mouse’s room in the first place.
Something was interested in the attention, because it was true - it really was something. It was chased all around the house now. Everyone said, “it’s up to something.” But instead of sitting quietly, something wanted something to do.
So something followed Mouse, but at a distance, because Mouse was always tripping on something. And Mouse and Mama went out in the pushchair, and something followed them.
Mouse said, “I see something!” And Mama said, “what do you see?”
And Mouse said, “I see GEORGE.”
With that, George had to be George, and was a boy thing. He was puzzled by this, and sat in Mouse’s lap, and was pushed around in the pushchair. “What is a George?” George asked.
Mouse explained that a George was a bit like a monkey, with a tail, red, with a face, a lot of red fur, and small, and smelly. Smelly of sharks.
“I’m smelly of sharks?” George said, quite unexpectedly upset by this. “What do sharks smell like?”
(George had only just stopped being nothing, and didn’t know.)
Mouse explained how sharks (which astute grownups will remember are small BLÅHAJ stuffed toys that mice incidentally shoplifted from IKEA, across which we shall draw the veil of amnesty) smell of bedtime, and possibly Ribena.
“I don’t like that,” said George, and tried being George anyway. George went to the shop, and ran about on the floor for a bit, and everyone said, “what is THAT?” And it was George.
George said, “I want to go home,” so they went home, and went to bed with the shark.
But then George knew the end was coming, and so he said to Mouse, “this is too much. I want to go home.”
and George didn’t fit in his corner any more - because it was big enough for nothing.
So George went POP and turned back into nothing.
Mouse said, “yes,” and nodded. And Mouse talked to George anyway.
And then Mama came and said, “who are you talking to, Mouse?”
Hey kids, you need to start worrying a little less about getting “#mogged” and a little more about getting “#smogged”. This is an Air Quality Index public service announcement.
reading this deposition that just got dropped where someone sued musk and ohhhh my god it is this funniest thing ever . i can see why his lawyer tried to keep this confidential . they’re both maybe the biggest idiots . this is like ace attorney
genuinely first two pages he says that he thinks ben’s lawyer is the one who is actually suing him and admits he has no clue what the lawsuit is about .
I don't think Mark can ever top "INDEED, MR. JONES, INDEED" and "AND THAT IS HOW I KNOW YOU LIED TO ME" from the first Sandy Hook trial in Texas (not to be confused with Chris Mattei, the attorney in the Connecticut trial), but this part
MR. SPIRO: Do you give these lectures at all of your depositions?
MR. BANKSTON: I do, and you can watch them.
is ESPECIALLY hilarious to me having listened to multiple depositions Mark has had to take in the Sandy Hook case, where he has needed to lecture EVERY. SINGLE. ATTORNEY. at some point in the case about how they're violating Texas Rule XYZ, because they all, to a one, did something seriously ethically questionable during the deposition.
like, YOU CAN WATCH/LISTEN TO HIS DEPOS. HE DOES HAVE TO GIVE THOSE LECTURES EVERY TIME. IT'S NOT EVEN A JOKE.
Autistic humor be like "let me continue this hypothetical to a comedic extreme while playing it straight the entire time only to break character and say 'don't be ridiculous' at a random moment no more ridiculous than any of the other moments in this hypothetical, and the contrast between playing the other ridiculous aspects of the hypothetical straight and treating one specific thing as ridiculous creates an entertaining moment"
I took my little brother (autistic, mostly non verbal) out and he was using his voice keyboard to tell me something, and this little boy (maybe 4 or 5?) heard him and asked me "Is he a robot??" I tried to explain to him that no, he isn't a robot, he just communicates differently, but my darling brother was in the background max volume "I am robot I am robot I am robot I am robot"
My little brother insisted if I was going to post about him, he wanted a cut of the "profits". When I explained to him that Tumblr isn't monetized, and is pretty pointless, he and my older brother pointed out that he'd still be bringing me "fame and notoriety" if the post got "big". So we agreed, if the post hit 10k notes, which seemed extremely farfetched and silly at the time, I'd take my little brother out for sushi (his favorite food) and let him eat as much as he wants.
I guess God wanted the little robot to enjoy some sushi 🍣 🥲
some hyper famous artists like Van Gogh transcend overratedness and become underrated because they're so normalized. Like I'll look at a van Gogh and I'm like wait this really is amazing you guys don't get it
Every once in a while, I wish the friendship meter from the Sims was real so that way when people tell me "I used Chat-GPT" they can visually see just how much respect I just lost for them in that moment.
One time an acquaintance told me she entered Snape's star chart into chatgpt and I could physically feel that meter dropping three separate times over the course of her sentence
Not to sound like a decrepit, rambling corpse about it, but back in my day Word used to be a pre installed program that came with your computer, if you were running Windows.
No subscription. Just program.
On your computer. You got to use it forever and ever and never had to worry about it going away.
Because it was physically on your computer. As a program. That you actually owned. Not because you got it separately, but because it was a standard inclusion with your computer.
I'm sorry but I'll just never get over it. I remember when companies cared about their products being usable out of the box. I remember when our things belonged to us.
Old man shaking fist at cloud, wherein the cloud is the background of the Windows 98 logo.
hey white people . if u dont know how to pronounce an ethnic persons name *google it* or if its someone ur talking directly to *ask them*. dont fucking do that "erm i dont know how to pronounce but __" or "im gonna butcher this haha" or "im not even gonna bother trying" . ur not funny. do u know what poc think when they hear u saying that ? u sound like a loser asshole and we dont want to spend time with u . im so fucking tired of watching youtube videos about media from my country and hearing those phrases. im tired of people saying that to my face . i respect someone who clearly looked it up and is tryong but says my name wrong over someone who just goes with whatever bad first guess they had without trying. u have too many resources at ur disposal to keep doing this. for the love of god just Fucking Try. if ur confused Just Try.
I highly recommend Forvo.com, the website where native speakers of a language contribute their time and voices to read words and names in their own language. It is a fantastic way to expand your world, open up your ears, and it's way more likely to nab a hit than just googling.