Just A Big Dumpster @goblinstandards - Tumblr Blog

Those who think that wisdom and whimsy are mutually exclusive have neither. It's vitally important to do the right thing when the consequences are dire, and to do a whole bunch of utterly frivolous silly dumb shit when it doesn't matter what you do.

localcryptidsteg

Often, the wise thing must be disguised as silly frivolous dumb shit in order to actually work

homunculus-argument

Nobody's going to let you do anything if they think it's actually going to work.

mandrake-arya

This is exactly their dynamic isn't it

cordia1ly

Moon fairy Jinshi 🌙

cordia1ly

If the lord ever got attached to a toy, he would never be able to let it go

gumiholic

man I yearn for what marichat could've been

un-magnificentlivesofadults

My mom just sent me this picture of my dog…I guess we got a lot of snow, then

un-magnificentlivesofadults

update:

back-that-sass-up

Great update

brennan-lee-mother

Simply cannot stop thinking about the fact that HJ and LaVonte are Sire and Childe and yet seem to have no hierarchy between them at all. HJ unquestionably treats LaVonte as his equal and LaVonte feels perfectly comfortable yelling at and physically assaulting HJ, both of which are kind of unthinkable under the social rules of the Camarilla. It’s LaVonte’s name first in Worthy and Wingstreet Industries. They are Sire and Childe but more importantly they are partners.

fagcrisis

i hate the word spicy can we bring back calling things erotic

maryoliveoil

rolling up to Wendy's to get an erotic chicken sandwich

0biivionn

Our self aware king

vashito

mermaid megafauna

patreon . bsky

vashito

more big mermaid

anarchistmemedistro

The works of the roots of the vines, of the trees, must be destroyed to keep up the price, and this is the saddest, bitterest thing of all. Carloads of oranges dumped on the ground. The people came for miles to take the fruit, but this could not be. How would they buy oranges at twenty cents a dozen if they could drive out and pick them up? And men with hoses squirt kerosene on the oranges, and they are angry at the crime, angry at the people who have come to take the fruit. A million people hungry, needing the fruit- and kerosene sprayed over the golden mountains. And the smell of rot fills the country.

Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth.

There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate- died of malnutrition- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage.

- John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

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