Have questions about how Year in Review works? Wonder why Guy Fieri is not on any of these lists? Ask away! We’re going to answer your questions live on our Instagram on Wednesday, December 6 and again Wednesday, December 13.

★
Misplaced Lens Cap
One Nice Bug Per Day
Game of Thrones Daily
AnasAbdin
Monterey Bay Aquarium

izzy's playlists!

titsay

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Jules of Nature

pixel skylines

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.
🪼
occasionally subtle
YOU ARE THE REASON
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
wallacepolsom

Andulka

Love Begins

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from France

seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
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seen from Netherlands
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seen from T1
seen from United States
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@fandometricsgetsdeep
Have questions about how Year in Review works? Wonder why Guy Fieri is not on any of these lists? Ask away! We’re going to answer your questions live on our Instagram on Wednesday, December 6 and again Wednesday, December 13.
Rich people showers
reblogging for that gif
i’m sorry i couldn’t help myself
nakedsasquatch it’s ya man
Okay but seriously folks - as often as I joke about this movie stirs my loins and as weirdly popular as this text post got a while back, I wanna rap with you all about why the George of the Jungle remake is a pretty important piece of cinema.
It’s literally the only movie I can think of that is based completely around the unheard of “FEMALE gaze.” Granted, while I’m a huge movie buff I’ve not seen every movie ever made. But even so, even if there’s another example of the “female gaze” in cinema that has escaped me it’s still damn impressive that a kids movie from 1997 based on a Jay Ward cartoon from the 60’s managed to turn gender representation in media on it’s fucking ass!
First things first, let’s look at our leading lady and love interest - Ursula, played by Leslie Mann.
Let me just say that while Leslie Mann is adorable and a talented actress, she does look a little less conventional and a little more plain compared to the bombshells that Hollywood likes to churn out. Leslie, in comparison, looks much more like a real women you’d meet on the street. She dresses pretty conservatively and plain throughout the film ; Wearing outfits that are more functional than fashionable for trekking through the jungle, pulling her hair back and so forth. Not that if she was dolled up and more scantily clad it would give her character any less integrity, but can we appreciate how RARE that is in the male dominated industry of film? Just think about all the roads a film about a woman in the jungle COULD have taken but didn’t - no scenes with her clothes strategically ripped or anything! You can say this is a kids movie, intended for children and that’s why the sensuality of the female lead is so downplayed but there are PLENTY of kids movies that handle women in a very objectifying and sexualized manner despite the target audience is pre-pubescent. Like, a disgusting amount. So I don’t think “it’s a kids movie” is why the film doesn’t take ANY, let alone EVERY, opportunity to showcase the main female character’s sex appeal…
…especially considering the sex appeal of the film rests squarely on the well defined shoulders of our male lead, George of the Jungle played by Brendan Fraser in the best god damn shape of his life!
*Homer Simpson Drooling Noises*
Whenever members of the reddit community try to compare the sexualization of women in fiction to the design of characters such as Batman and Superman, I always want to just sit them down and show them this movie. Because THIS is what the female sexual fantasy looks like, and Batman and Superman are male power-fantasies. Look at him - his big blue eyes, his soft hair, his lean, chiseled physique built for dexterity rather than power. He’s wild and free, but gentle. It’s like he fell right out of that steamy romance novel your mom tried to hide from you growing up.
Hell, the whole plot seems to be designed around how damn hot he is! First, for the majority of the film, he wears only a small strip of cloth to cover the dick balls and ass. Everything else is FAIR GAME to drool over for 40 minutes. Then, after he meets Ursula she takes him with her to San Francisco just so we can enjoy him in a well-tailored suit (as seen in the gif set), running around in an open and billowy shirt along side horses while Ursula and all of her friends literally crowd around and make sexual comments about him, and my personal favorite, ditch the loincloth entirely and have him walk around naked while covering his man-bits with various objects while one of Ursula’s very lucky friends oogles him and makes a joke along the lines of “So THAT’S why they call him the ‘KING of the Jungle’…”
And yes, it’s also a very cute and funny little movie. Out of all the movies based on Jay Ward cartoons, it was the most faithful to the fast-paced humor and wit of the original source material (yes even the new Peabody and Sherman movie which honestly I thought was too cutesy-poo.) But that’s not why this movie is popular with the gay community or why we all became women in 1997. It’s just really cool that there’s a film out there where the sensuality of the female form takes a back seat for the oiled up, chiseled, physique of Brendan Fraser (in his prime that is)
One thing to add: in the scene mentioned above where the ladies are watching him in the billowy shirt running with the horses, it pans back to about 50 feet away to two guys in suits at this party looking at the women and one of the guys says, “Man, what is it with women and horses?” So not only does this movie highlight the female gaze, but it blatantly points out that western male sensibilities don’t have a clue what actually appeals to women.
ALSO
he’s non threatening
as mentioned above, he looks built for dexterity rather than power, but he’s still a 6+ foot tall extremely muscular man, and not once are you worried for Ursula when he’s with her
ALSO
let’s take a look at his rival - Lyle is a cravat-wearing trust-fund kid (who, interestingly, is into Ursula’s fortune more than her, which kind of makes this a gender-swapped gold-digger thing too). He’s blonde and Ursula’s mom LOVES him. He’s more uncomfortable and less prepared to cope with the jungle than Ursula is, in his pastels and shiny shoes.
But he talks over Ursula, insists he knows what’s best for her, ignores her autonomy. In spite of the fact that Lyle Van de Groot is a rich, educated, social climber who cares deeply about his clothing and appearances he is a point-by-point checklist of unhealthy masculinity in a way that beefy, inarticulate, uneducated George could never be. Ursula is off on her own doing her own thing and Lyle hires two FUCKING POACHERS to track her down in the middle of the jungle while she’s working (or on vacation? It’s never made clear because he interrupts her before she can explain why she went on the expedition). Lyle ignores the local guides, claiming his experience with a bridge in Maui means the bridge they’re on is safe - which leads to a significant injury for one of the guides. He then tells Ursula the guides are conspiring against him, trying to make himself and his poachers seem safe and the Africans who make up the rest of their party seem dangerous.
Check that body language! A post above points out that we’re never worried about Ursula when she’s around George. That’s because Lyle talks to her like this. Look at his aggressive lean! Look at him literally looking down at her! She’s tilted away from him in the least threatening position possible and he’s so aggressive about whatever point he’s making. When he finds her after he pushed her toward a damned lion he kisses her and she pushes him away. Want a textbook example of gaslighting? Here you go: she says “don’t get all smoochy with me! I remember what happened with that lion” and he responds “What are you talking about? I was fighting that lion the whole time - you were just so terrified you don’t remember.” Then he shoots George! And then he kidnaps Ursula and attempts to force her into marriage!
Now look at how George and Ursula interact (slightly NSFW):
Even though he’s a big strong dude and he thinks he’s doing what’s okay he lets her set the tone for their interactions. He accepts that he’s out of his wheelhouse and even if he doesn’t understand it he does what she says is culturally appropriate. He learns from her! He listens to her! Compare Lyle leaning into Ursula above to this image of George and Ursula talking:
He’s listening to her, all of his attention is on on her, but he’s totally nonthreatening. His torso is turned toward her but he’s not invading her space, his hands are clasped, he’s smiling, and she’s the one leaning into him. Look at that smile she has, look how happy she is to be listened to. Her posture in both images is vulnerable but in this one with George she’s vulnerable because she has chosen to share with him instead of because she feels threatened.
When George rescues Ursula from Lyle at the end of the film it isn’t a typical damsel situation - George doesn’t have a knock-down-drag-out fight with Lyle, he swings into a tree and offers Ursula a hand so she can reach up and save herself (and before he does it he acknowledges how much it’s going to hurt and *whimpers* and looks human and scared). And you’ve gotta remember that George rescues everybody. It’s not just Ursula - he also rescues a parasailer and gets shot rescuing Shep and Ape. He just likes helping, dammit!
AND this movie offers a perfect counter to the “nice guy” thing - Ursula starts engaged to a jerk who her mom thinks is a “nice guy” the moves on to actual nice man George who isn’t *just* nice - he’s also patient, listens to her, has his own skills and talents, is okay with being goofy, has his own social circle and isn’t totally dependent on Ursula, and looks amazing. Ursula doesn’t go with George just because he’s a *nice* guy who rescued her from an asshole, Ursula goes with George because he’s an interesting, fun person who is supportive of her different way of being an interesting, fun person. AND he’s emotionally available. Google image search George of the jungle and see how many smiles you can find, see how many open looks of confusion there are, see how much sadness you can see in George’s face. Now look for images of Lyle. His two expressions are a smirk and cartoonish fear. I know this is a cartoonish kid’s movie, but it is SO powerful that the hero shares his emotions while the villain masks every emotion but fear. Lyle doesn’t want to open up, he doesn’t want to be vulnerable, he wants CONTROL. George wants to learn, to protect people he cares about, to explore new places, to laugh when he’s happy and to be sad when he’s sad, and that he does that while being a broad-shouldered, physically powerful dude who is NOT totally self-involved is just…
Like, look, I didn’t sign on to tumblr dot com for George of the Jungle discourse, but I’m just now realizing that this movie may have done the most for destroying my conception of stoic masculinity and gender roles as a child.
Like
Damn.
I have no idea who Scalia was. Isn’t that the thing that people call themselves when they are furries but with reptiles?
You’re thinking of scalies. Scalia is a quantity that has magnitude but not direction.
You’re thinking of scalars. Scalia is an opera house in Milan.
You’re thinking of La Scala. Scalia is is a form of thermal burn resulted from heated fluids such as boiling water or steam.
You’re thinking of scalding. Scalia are subjective internal experiences.
You’re thinking of qualia. Scalia is the region of Northern Europe consisting mainly of Norway, Sweden, and Finland.
You’re thinking of Scandinavia. Scalia is a company that makes trucks.
You’re thinking of Scania. Scalia is a a wizard and a Snatcher in the gang led by Fenrir Greyback in the Harry Potter universe.
You’re thinking of Scabior. Scalia was the guise assumed by Peter Pettigrew in his capacity as an Animagus,also in the Harry Potter universe.
You’re thinking of Scabbers. Scalia is a type of triangle where no two sides have the same length.
You’re thinking of Scalene. A Scalia is a method of stealing people’s valuables or money through elaborate falsehoods, deception and acting.
you’re thinking of scams. scalia is the bone that connects the humerus to the clavicle.
You’re thinking of scapula. Scalia is a small knife with a thin, sharp blade that is used in surgeries and dissections.
You’re thinking of a scalpel.Scalia is an abnormal lateral curvature of the spine.
You’re thinking of scoliosis. Scalia is the author of “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.”
You’re thinking of a Scamander. Scalia is a flat tool used for flipping food.
You’re thinking of a spatula. Scalia is any one of numerous species of saltwater clams or marine bivalve mollusks in the taxonomic family Pectinidae.
You’re thinking of scallops, Scalia is the kind of music played by bands like the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Reel Big Fish, or Streetlight Manifesto
You’re thinking of Ska, Scalia is a kind of predatory arachnid usually found in deserts with a venomous stinger and claws
You’re thinking of scorpions, Scalia is a contagious skin irritation caused by mites
You’re thinking of scabies, Scalia is an animated series of short cartoons from the 1970s that taught kids about math and other stuff using songs.
You’re thinking of school house rock. Scalia is when you remonstrate with or rebuke angrily.
You’re thinking of scolding. Scalia is small or insufficient in quality or amount, often used to describe skimpy underwear (esp. women’s)
You’re thinking of scanty. Scalia is a Greek monster that lives on a cliff next to her sister Charybdis and eats sailors with her many heads.
You’re thinking of scylla. Scalla is what happens to your skin after you get a cut on it and it dries up and itches
You’re thinking of scabbing. Scalia is a game played with tiles that have letters on them and you have to form words.
You’re thinking of Scrabble. Scalia are the green shoots of an allium used in cooking.
You’re thinking of Scallions. Scalia is a fashion designer who was known for her use of shocking pink and Surrealist influences.
You’re thinking of Schiaparelli. Scalia is a medical condition characterized by the hardening of anatomical structures, usually caused by a replacement of the normal organ-specific tissue with connective tissue.
You’re thinking of sclerosis. Scalia is a a short sword with a curved blade that broadens toward the point, used originally in Eastern countries.
You’re thinking of scimitar. Scalia is a condition where you think you have other people living inside of.
You’re thinking of schizophrenia. Scalia is a guy with a cat that exists in a paradox of realities.
the most implausible thing about superhero movies is that these guys make their own suits, like seriously those toxic chemicals did NOT give you the ability to sew stretch knits, do you even own a serger
I feel like there’s this little secret place in the middle of some seedy New York business neighborhood, back room, doesn’t even have a sign on the door, but within three days of using their powers in public or starting a pattern of vigilanteism, every budding superhero or supervillain gets discreetly handed a scrap of paper with that address written on it.
Inside there’s this little tea table with three chairs, woodstove, minifridge, work table, sewing machines, bolts and bolts of stretch fabrics and maybe some kevlar, and two middle-aged women with matching wedding rings and sketchbooks.
And they invite you to sit down, and give you tea and cookies, and start making sketches of what you want your costume to look like, and you get measured, and told to come back in a week, and there’s your costume, waiting for you.
The first one is free. They tell you the price of subsequent ones, and it’s based on what you can afford. You have no idea how they found out about your financial situation. You try it on, and it fits perfectly, and you have no idea how they managed that without measuring you a whole lot more thoroughly than they did.
They ask you to pose for a picture with them. For their album, they say. The camera is old, big, the sort film camera artists hunt down at antique stores and pay thousands for, and they come pose on either side of you and one of them clicks the camera remotely by way of one of those squeeze-things on a cable that you’ve seen depicted from olden times. That one (the tall one, you think, though she isn’t really, thin and reminiscent of a Greek marble statue) pulls the glass plate from the camera and scurries off to the basement, while the other one (shorter, round, all smiles, her shiny black hair pulled up into a bun) brings out a photo album to show you their work.
Inside it is … everyone. Superheroes. Supervillains. Household names and people you don’t recognize. She flips through pages at random, telling you little bits about the guy in the purple spangly costume, the lady in red and black, the mysterious cloaked figure whose mask reveals one eye. As she pages back, the costumes start looking really convincingly retro, and her descriptions start having references to the Space Race, the Depression, the Great War.
The other lady comes up, holding your picture. You’re sort of surprised to find it’s in color, and then you realize all the others were, too, even the earliest ones. There you are, and you look like a superhero. You look down at yourself, and feel like a superhero. You stand up straighter, and the costume suddenly fits a tiny bit better, and they both smile proudly.
*
The next time you come in, it’s because the person who’s probably going to be your nemesis has shredded your costume. You bring the agreed-upon price, and you bake cupcakes to share with them. There’s a third woman there, and you don’t recognize her, but the way she moves is familiar somehow, and the air seems to sparkle around her, on the edge of frost or the edge of flame. She’s carrying a wrapped brown paper package in her arms, and she smiles at you and moves to depart. You offer her a cupcake for the road.
The two seamstresses go into transports of delight over the cupcakes. You drink tea, and eat cookies and a piece of a pie someone brought around yesterday. They examine your costume and suggest a layer of kevlar around the shoulders and torso, since you’re facing off with someone who uses claws.
They ask you how the costume has worked, contemplate small design changes, make sketches. They tell you a story about their second wedding that has you falling off the chair in tears, laughing so hard your stomach hurts. They were married in 1906, they say, twice. They took turns being the man. They joke about how two one-ring ceremonies make one two-ring ceremony, and figure that they each had one wedding because it only counted when they were the bride.
They point you at three pictures on the wall. A short round man with an impressive beard grins next to a taller, white-gowned goddess; a thin man in top hat and tails looks adoringly down at a round and beaming bride; two women, in their wedding dresses, clasp each other close and smile dazzlingly at the camera. The other two pictures show the sanctuaries of different churches; this one was clearly taken in this room.
There’s a card next to what’s left of the pie. Elaborate silver curlicues on white, and it originally said “Happy 10th Anniversary,” only someone has taken a Sharpie and shoehorned in an extra 1, so it says “Happy 110th.” The tall one follows your gaze, tells you, morning wedding and evening wedding, same day. She picks up the card and sets it upright; you can see the name signed inside: Magneto.
You notice that scattered on their paperwork desk are many more envelopes and cards, and are glad you decided to bring the cupcakes.
*
When you pick up your costume the next time, it’s wrapped up in paper and string. You don’t need to try it on; there’s no way it won’t be perfect. You drink tea, eat candies like your grandmother used to make when you were small, talk about your nights out superheroing and your nemesis and your calculus homework and how today’s economy compares with the later years of the Depression.
When you leave, you meet a man in the alleyway. He’s big, and he radiates danger, but his eyes shift from you to the package in your arms, and he nods slightly and moves past you. You’re not the slightest bit surprised when he goes into the same door you came out of.
*
The next time you visit, there’s nothing wrong with your costume but you think it might be wise to have a spare. And also, you want to thank them for the kevlar. You bring artisan sodas, the kind you buy in glass bottles, and they give you stir fry, cooked on the wood-burning stove in a wok that looks a century old.
There’s no way they could possibly know that your day job cut your hours, but they give you a discount that suits you perfectly. Halfway through dinner, a cinderblock of a man comes in the door, and the shorter lady brings up an antique-looking bottle of liquor to pour into his tea. You catch a whiff and it makes your eyes water. The tall one sees your face, and grins, and says, Prohibition.
You’re not sure whether the liquor is that old, or whether they’ve got a still down in the basement with their photography darkroom. Either seems completely plausible. The four of you have a rousing conversation about the merits of various beverages over dinner, and then you leave him to do business with the seamstresses.
*
It’s almost a year later, and you’re on your fifth costume, when you see the gangly teenager chase off a trio of would-be purse-snatchers with a grace of movement that can only be called superhuman.
You take pen and paper from one of your multitude of convenient hidden pockets, and scribble down an address. With your own power and the advantage of practice, it’s easy to catch up with her, and the work of an instant to slip the paper into her hand.
*
A week or so later, you’re drinking tea and comparing Supreme Court Justices past and present when she comes into the shop, and her brow furrows a bit, like she remembers you but can’t figure out from where. The ladies welcome her, and you push the tray of cookies towards her and head out the door.
In the alleyway you meet that same giant menacing man you’ve seen once before. He’s got a bouquet of flowers in one hand, the banner saying Happy Anniversary, and a brown paper bag in the other.
You nod to him, and he offers you a cupcake.
I would really, really like to hear the story of why Clod doesn't like the mailman.
OK, so.
It is a very well established fact that Clod, feline prince of my heart, is ridiculously adorable. He is a squishy grey blob of brain-melting cuteness and fluff.
He does have a naughty streak, and his favourite hobby is walking along one of our shelves and knocking every single item off individually, but he’s generally a congenial chap. Sometimes he purrs so hard that he drools, he rubs his face on things so happily that he leaves trails of spit, and he’s more than once headbutted me so hard in greeting that I’ve winced. However, he is also on the Royal Mail’s blacklist of dangerous animals.
This is because he is deathly, singularly obsessed with post.
We have no idea why. He doesn’t react this way to anything else. He is pretty chill about most things. Post, though? He cannot fucking deal. It works him right up into a terrifying feral frenzy, and god forbid anyone in the vicinity when the postman cometh.
Before we got Clod, we just had a slot letterbox of the kind that’s more common in Europe (y’know, this sort of thing, but in a less fancy door, because we live in Cardiff and have hardly any connections to royalty at all):
This was all fine and dandy, until one day Clod noticed that, when the postman was putting the post through the door, it could be turned into an absolutely fabulous game of life and death called ‘Mauling the Mailman’. Clod used to sit by the kitchen window and watch for the postman, and as soon as the letters poked through the door, Clod would run over and grab the postman’s hand, attacking it with a crazed fervour hitherto unseen outside of a One Direction concert (may they rest in peace). It wasn’t playing at all; it was genuine attack mode. I’ve seen less vicious attacks on Black Friday news reports. It was horrendous.
We tried keeping him away from the door, which meant shutting him in the kitchen, but the post doesn’t come at a set time and we weren’t always at home (and obviously didn’t want to shut him up in one room all day, because no) so we weren’t always successful, which meant that Clod probably managed to wreak havoc about 5 or 6 times before we even really knew there was a problem. The postman, bless his little bearded face, tried a host of things to stop it. He tried poking the letters through with a stick. He tried pushing them through super slowly so that Clod didn’t hear it from the kitchen. He tried prayer (probably). None of it worked, and it came to a head one day when we heard a knock at the door and saw the poor dude standing on our porch, cradling his bleeding hand, and mum had to give him first aid. The blood stayed on our porch for weeks. Not because we’re lazy, you understand. We really gave it a good scrub. There was just a lot of it. How those people on Medical Detectives manage to clean up whole bodies’ worth, I do not know.
After that, we installed a mailbag inside the door so that the post could go into that and the postman’s hand wouldn’t be exposed to Clod’s wrath. It didn’t work, because Clod - who is usually an absolute idiot, and has been known to run into walls - figured out how to open the mailbag and maul the postman again. This also introduced an additional problem in that whenever someone tried to open the mailbag to get the post, Clod would attack them too. And to reiterate, by ‘attack’, I don’t mean that cute half-assed bite that cats do when they hold onto your hand and gently gnaw you. I mean he yowled, kicked, scratched and bit, often drawing blood. So, obviously, this solution did not work quite as well as we’d hoped.
Around this time, we got a message from the Royal Mail, informing us that - totally understandably - they would have to stop delivering our mail if we didn’t get our cat the fuck under control. So we did the only thing we could do, and installed an external mailbox. It is a pain in every single one of my limbs, and it was expensive and it looks ugly, but at least the postman isn’t at an elevated risk of tetanus any more.
Clod still watches at the window for the postman, seeking vengeance, but our porch is now blood-free.
For now.
I’m laughing so hard there are tears. I fucking love cats.
I forgot to mention that our regular postman applied for a change of route and was accepted, and so now we have an entirely new postman who has no idea of the wrath of Clod. I pray to god that he never does.
I will pray for the poor sod who is yet to meet Clod
I’m so upset that this post has so many notes because I feel like it misrepresents my beautiful boy, and so I feel honour bound to defend his character
- one time Clod climbed on my boyfriend’s shoulders and breathed really heavily in his ear
- whenever we eat dinner, Clod sits on a shelf above the table and tries to put his paw in our food
- he sleeps on my old blanket in the kitchen
- he smells dusty, musty and a bit like toast
- sometimes he sits in the bread basket and pretends to be a wholewheat loaf
- he was born to a rescue cat who had been abandoned by a house of irresponsible students
- he is an amateur philosopher and has devised his own theory, named Cloddic Thought, in which it is supposed that the root motive of all actions is cat treats
- if you throw a treat, he can often catch it in his paws
- he once tried to be an economist but gave up when he realised he had no concept of money
- the white spot on his chest is his tie pin
- he is a CINNAMON ROLL and please Clod, I’ve told them all now, can I go home to my family, oh god please I have told them the truth
I CANNOT B E L I E V E THIS WAS ON MY STATS EXAM.
what does everyone think teachers DO in their spare time?
I JUST REALIZED THAT THE PLURAL OF BEEF IS BEEVES
LOOK AT THIS
WAS I THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDNT KNOW ABOUT BEEVES
i just told my roommate this and he just got up and left the apartment, and didn’t come back right away so i went outside and he was just
that is the face of a broken man
this is by far the best comment anyone has added to my text post
I guess he had some beeves with this new information
Do you ever eat popcorn out of the palm of your own hand with such ardent desperation that you feel like both a wild horse and the gentle schoolgirl feeding it treats to gain its affection
Where'd you come up with your url?
there were seven eggs left
same
you must have a lot of tea cups
yes
i am very proud of your collection
hey guys
dude fholy shit
They had not been seen together in the museum galleries for quite a while. Monet’s “Women with Umbrellas” are once again side by side in the Impressionist gallery.
AND THEN THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER THE END!!!!
I AM THE SAND GUARDIAN, GUARDIAN OF THE SAND
I’m just reblogging this because my dad didn’t believe it existed.
IT
HAS
RETURNED
Well I spent way too much time on this thing that I should have.
But I really liked the idea of a sand gardian.
POSEIDON QUIVER BEFORE HIM!
Reposting because I had forgot the most important detail
Thanks again Katiestrophic for the inspiration
just figured it out: the reason why they never made a movie where air bud plays hockey is because it would have to be called air hockey
what the fuck, brooks. you and i BOTH know that that is not the nomenclature of the air bud series. besides, you need two points of contact to correctly hold a stick so there would need to be TWO dogs so clearly the title would be “air buds: two dogs”
oh, look who thinks he’s the big fucking air bud expert
“yeah, uh, air bud can’t hold a fuckin…stick, because, uh” oh wait
fuck your essentialist holding technique. you fucking trash
i do like “air bud: two dogs” though. maybe a tandem cycling movie?
please, as if i was suggesting a RETRIEVER cant hold a STICK i meant that he could not ARTICULATE A STICK IN A WAY THAT REQUIRES A FULCRUM ONLY USING HIS MOUTH
such as the motions required for EVEN THE MoST BASIC HOCKEY ACTIONS. whats he gonna do?? fuckin spin on the ice? DO YOU THINK THEY MAKE SKATES FOR DOGS, BROOKS?
way to align yourself with the evil rival coach in literally every air bud movie
“yeah, uh, air bud can’t have special, uh,…shoes, because, uh” oh wait
buddy could at least be the fucking goalie (it would fit the theme of the film if josh were the one trying to score anyway). we could even call it, fucking… air bud: penalty barks. not so goddamn smart now huh
PLEASE, and catch with his mouth? do you know what rubber at that velocity will do to his poor dog teeth? do you want buddy to never eat solid food again?
sure is casual in here! you act as if buddy doesn’t already subsist entirely on vanilla pudding and go-gurts
well this brings to the fore the Big Question of the franchise: is buddy merely a talented dog or is he magical? no normal dog could survive with such a massive deficiency of protein in his diet (given he consumes stock, child-friendly puddings and yogurts and not protein-enhanced) let alone play competitive sport against creatures with more usable limbs and opposable thumbs
but if he is magic, is he worthy of praise? is the only magical dog of his kind (prior to his talking progeny, best left unmentioned) and if not, how could we praise him for talents innate to his magic and not earned by virtue of strict training
is he truly
a Good Dog?
or just good magic in a dog body
i appreciate the critical engagement with the media here but please recall that the heart of the air bud series, and by extension, the fatal flaw of the air buddies series, is that air bud is a real-life talented dog. the air bud credit sequence confirms this:
buddy is actually making those free throws himself, like a canine jackie chan. the story of air bud, though dramatized to fit hollywood sensibilities, was based on the real-life buddy, a stray who, when adopted, just so happened to be a baller
consider, then, how air buddies completely misses the mark (airballs, if you will) on what made air bud a timeless classic. they’re barely even dogs. they’re talking cgi abominations that go to fucking space. we know there ain’t no rule say the dog can’t play basketball, but there are a shit-ton of rules about the dog leaving earth’s orbit. like, i’m all for a true-to-life movie about laika, but space buddies is not that. it’s a crock of soulless bullshit
so yes, air bud is worthy of praise, and i would argue that he’s under-praised. in his life, buddy was nominated for all of 1 hollywood award, a kid’s choice award for favorite animal star, which went to salem from sabrina the teenage witch. it’s almost understandable that the handlers of buddy’s estate would allow the travesty of air buddies to happen, given that a magical talking cat beat out a legitimately talented dog. it’s bullshit top to bottom, and buddy is a truly good dog
i can only contribute a mockup of the potential poster. i do of course know that buddy would never play for a team as ruthless as boston but i couldn’t find an image of a golden retriever in a leafs jersey, which of course represents the sort of underDOGS that the air bud franchise is so fond of
Oh, fuck. Goodwill has so many Mask tapes
Ok, well, really they only have 3 different The Mask Animated Series tapes, but why do they have so many copies? Who donated these and why did they have them? Oh, fuck, now I have a lot of Mask tapes…
69 Mask tapes to be exact. They were all unopened. I don’t even have a VCR. Even if I did, I wouldn’t need to buy every copy they had. Why did I do this? Well, let’s get them out and play with them…
This is not very much fun.
Every tape comes with the most incredible coupon. Some tapes actually came with two, so thank you very much, packaging errors.
The true bummer here is that these coupons expired 20 years ago. The $3 refund does not appear to be worth the effort and I wonder if anyone ever bothered. You had to buy 4 Totino’s pizzas, pizza rolls, or hearty pockets between 10/24/95 and 5/31/96, include the upc from the packages, the receipts from when you purchased those awful food products with the awful food products circled, this coupon, the proof of purchase tab from the Mask box and the receipt from when you purchased the tape during the previously mentioned dates. If anyone did this for $3, I would like to hear from you. Print out this post, take a picture of you eating the printout instead of a Totino’s party pizza, pizza rolls, or hearty pocket, and email it to me with a short story describing how you spent your hard earned $3. Anyway, I guess I’ll epoxy the tapes together and start coating them in resin.
Yes, and do something with those stupid coupons.
TOTINO’S PIZZA ROLLS SMMOKIN’! Now do it several times.
I can’t just throw away the boxes either. That would be terribly wasteful.
Surprisingly, I had more than enough tapes to do what I wanted to do, but the boxes came up short, so the other side of this had to be a little different.
I suppose this is good, because one day I might want to know what I’m missing out on, having ruined nearly all of the precious tapes. I can just look at this side and read what the episodes were about. I think I watched some of this cartoon when I was a kid. I fucking loved the movie when it came out, so I’m pretty sure I watched this show. Anyway, what’s next?
Oh. I guess I’m really bad at taking pictures of the process. It’s a bookcase. There was only one tape I didn’t have to open.
Maybe I’ll get a VCR one day so I can watch this tape.
There’s just one more thing.
Bookcases are usually just so damn boring.
Now I need Dark Horse to print some nice Library Editions of The Mask, because the out of print Omnibuses are Fuck That expensive online. Maybe if I hadn’t spent so much money on old tapes, epoxy, resin, glue, and christmas lights, I could buy one or two of the omnibuses in questionable condition, but then where would I put the books? I now have the perfect place to put as many Library Editions as it takes. Get on it, Dark Horse.
me: uses my sleeping kitten’s paw to navigate my smartphone
he woke up and retrieved his paw
you Used him
he’s on the bed and he won’t come near me
youve betrayed his trust………he Knows
good thing i got 13 more of these fluffs
second kitten also abandoned me and they both formed a coalition
their cause is gaining numbers
this is a revolution
i tried calling in the cavalry but they overwhelmed us quickly
we are….defeated.
you may have lost the battle but all I see is a winner with 14 kittens and a dog
i call all my friends after 20 years of no contact and invite them to visit me at my house, which is a farm in the middle of nowhere. they approach the farm gates and i appear looking like this
..go on…….
i lead you into the barn where i live and offer you snacks and refreshments. it’s a bowl of minnows and 3 caprisun pouches
accept the capri sun, cautiously refuse the minnows
i tell you that it’s fine, leaves more for me, but you can tell im a little hurt. we watch cutthroat kitchen in silence, i seem to be attempting to drink my caprisun through my gas mask, but im failing miserably. you say nothing.
i say nothing
at one point i go into a shed and bring out more caprisun pouches and a single triscuit for you
Thanks
youre welcome
my mom finally bought a toaster
why did this get notes
we’re happy for you
its just a toaster
it’s been three years since i made this post. stop congratulating me on the toaster! stop asking me how the new toaster is doing!! i don’t know!! i haven’t lived with my mom in almost a year! i haven’t seen that toaster in months!! she might even have a new new toaster now!!! who knows!? not me!