I think I use Tumblr wrong. I think I use tags and reblogs as commentary on the things I see, rather than as replies to the person above me.
Sometimes this can look quite rude. Apparently.
Peter Solarz
art blog(derogatory)
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

tannertan36
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

izzy's playlists!

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⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ

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@klatchianmist
I think I use Tumblr wrong. I think I use tags and reblogs as commentary on the things I see, rather than as replies to the person above me.
Sometimes this can look quite rude. Apparently.
In 2026, the chicest thing a gay actor can do is never explicitly come out as gay but also make it abundantly clear that he is. Coming out is too modern. Staying closeted is too old fashioned. But this method merges contemporary freedom with Old Hollywood glamour and allure, and it weeds out the dumbest people who truly donât get it. I call it the Pascal Method.
Taylor Swift does this
no she doesnât
You clearly don't go here or to queer history and signaling, or both, enough to have this conversation and I'm not going to explain it to you. You could have asked questions, you could have done even a modicum of research. You didn't and you made yourself look ignorant. Goodbye.
#I'm fucking crying#this is an instant classic#this is the next meme#i can't believe I'm here to see a baby copypasta nary two hours old#I can't#lol#i laughed way too hard#iconic
Fite me (pastel goth edition) âď¸
You ever meet a person who you can just tell is constantly fighting against their own impulse to be kind
so I have this one colleague, right? I donât know him super well, but we work together on shift sometimes and heâs reliable, got his shit together, efficient and timely.
And heâs polite with the public, too. Says all the right things, smiles when appropriate, patient and helpful, would never step out of line. One hundred percent follows the rules to the letter, hands-off, no abusive language, no violence. Straight and narrow all the way.
And when I first met him, I was put off about how he talks about people. I still am, honestly. Itâs private and quiet and discrete, not where anyone could see or overhear, but he says things to me. âThat one got hit with the ugly stickâ. âHe looks fuckinâ handicappedâ. âLook at that crackheadâ. âMaybe Iâd feel bad for them if they got off their asses and got their lives togetherâ.
It started quite a few arguments between us, but it never changed that his ACTIONS were always fair and respectful, so I let it slide as one of those things you canât change about others and just kind of have to put up with. We work together fine, and I donât react to it anymore, and he treats people well.
One day he said he saw me buying a coffee for a homeless guy when I was off shift.
The guy in question was someone we both knew from work was a pain in the ass, high or drunk more often than not, criminal record a mile long, with the kind of mental health issues that arenât as sympathetic because they mostly just make him act like a violent asshole. Too ill to be prosecuted, to aggressive and unpredictable for a care aid and public housing, so he gets by stealing and shooting up and threatening anyone who tries to stop him.
Heâs an unhappy soul. There are very few places heâs welcome.
But I was buying myself a drink, and he was outside, and it was cold out, and out of uniform I know itâs an 80% chance heâll have no idea who I am or that he said heâd cut my head off last week, so I figured Iâd grab him a coffee. Double-double, cause sugar helps and Iâd seen him eat ice cream before so cream probably wouldnât hurt.
I handed it to him on my way out. Told him to stay safe. He took it. Didnât say thank-you, but I wasnât really expecting him to anyways. Iâd never spoken with him outside of an active conflict before, so I donât even know what heâd have sounded like not-angry and mostly-sober.
But anyway, apparently my colleague saw, and he asked why the hell Iâd waste the money.
I didnât know what to tell him. It was just two dollars. Iâd spent more than that on the second-hand bowl that had fallen off my dish rack and shattered the other night. And it was cold out, and the guy was probably banned from anywhere warm in town, and if he wanted something bad enough heâd probably just steal it anyways, and then itâs be someone elseâs problem. But mostly, he was just the kind of guy nobody is happy to see, who was welcome nowhere, and had nowhere to go, and maybe when youâre trapped in a life like that something small and decent doesnât come around very often.
I didnât know what to tell him. So I just said, âI felt like it.â
He rolled his eyes a bit, but didnât hassle me about it. I got the feeling he still thought I was being stupid or naive. He seems to think I donât understand how he world works, or how awful and heartless people can be.
I donât know why he thinks that. We work the same job, and weâve shared a lot about where weâve been. We both know how awful people can be.
But then maybe a month later he shows up for shift change. And when he does, he has this weird energy about him, like a little kid who just found their first rubikâs cube and hasnât figured out if they like it or not.
âI pulled a you,â he said, like he was making fun of himself. I asked what he meant, what had happened.
He said heâd seen a guy, a different guy, another person on the street when we both saw all the time. âI went to grab lunch and he was there,â he said. âAnd you know, heâs got no money, heâs homeless, but he never causes trouble, never steals, doesnât show up drunk. So I figured, what the hell, and I covered his bill.â
He wasnât looking at me as he said it, just staring off with an odd energy. If it wasnât so subtle Iâd call it excitement, like little-kid excitement, but it was almost nothing. âI told âem not to say it was me. Didnât wanna have to talk to him. Thought itâd be weird.â
It was totally out of left-field. Completely against the image he projected of polite distance, judgemental side comments.
I asked him, âfeels good, huh?â
He shrugged, but it seemed like he was still thinking about it.
He still says unkind and hurtful things about people, though. But the other day he said something about how he didnât care about people, didnât care when the news said folks were dying of the flu, didnât get upset over strangers like that.
I said, âBut itâs sad, isnât it?â, and he shook his head. âYou canât care about everyone. That would be exhausting.â And I think thatâs when I figured it out.
We both do the same work. Weâve both come from similar places. And yet the way we feel about others is different.
This is a guess, but I donât think heâs a cruel or unkind person at heart. A guess, but I suspect that after seeing so much stupid, senseless cruelty⌠Je cares about people, but caring hurts. Caring means you can be let down, disappointed, fucked over. Caring about everyone means suffering when they suffer, and thatâs a lot of pain for one person to handle. And I suspect that maybe when he says cruel things, when he says he doesnât care, itâs because heâs scared of his own empathy. That if he truly let himself love everyone, he couldnât survive the hurt of it.
Which is purer, in a way, than my own sort of caring. My caring, I think, is much more selfish.
Iâve been hurt too. Iâve seen bad things, too. And when I closed myself off like that, I became a cold and bitter person, and the colder and more bitter you are, the colder and more bitter others are back, until all you can see is the worst in everything and almost nothing can drag you out of the pit youâve dug yourself into.
I think heâs cold because heâs afraid of love. I think he knows that loving others makes you vulnerable regardless of your actions, so he does what he can to dislike people before he becomes attached.
I think I love because if I didnât, Iâd hate. Iâd hate everybody. Iâd hate people I care about.
I think I need to love everybody, care about everybody, at least a little tiny bit, because if any single person was unworthy then anyone could be unworthy, and how on earth would I know?
The man I bought coffee for didnât bother us that day. Didnât bother us for a few weeks. I try not to hope the two things are related.
Another guy I knew from the street got clean. Got a house. Was going back to school, before he fell off the wagon. Heâs on the street again, now. Seeing him back out there hurts. It probably wouldnât hurt if I didnât give a shit, if I wasnât kind of excited for him, if I wasnât still kind of hoping heâd get clean again.
He has no idea who I am, though. We only met once, maybe four years ago now.
Iâm still hoping Iâll see him around town again soon, standing upright without the black stains on his fingers, smiling like he was when he came by with his social worker.
I think most people have the impulse to care. I think the choices they make donât reflect their capacity for love so much as they indicate what scares us more- pain and power and how we let it in.
We have shift change again twenty minutes.
Iâm not sure what else to say.
Would you rather be stabbed in the back, or buried alive?
Pink Flowers Wall Lamps by fiorediluce
Freedom FROM religion is mandatory.
Only day you can rb this
"public schooling in america is by and large not designed for ideal learning and has a lot of fucked up incentives and structures that encourage mistreatment of children" â
"it would be preferable to have no structure or standardization and just go by vibes" â
"education itself is the problem, knowledge is fake, math and writing are unimportant, and ignorance is wisdom" âââ
âhomeschooling and private schooling is the solution to these problemsâââââ
Genuinely, I think the most publicly visible AI advance so far this year is how thoroughly and abruptly the "image generators can't do legible text" problem has beem fixed.
For those who haven't been paying attention, this is a recent ChatGPT output. It can do this sort of dense sensible text in images totally one shot, so don't rely on bad text to identify AI images any more.
Was the text also generated? was it generated before, and given as an input, or was it generated with the image?
The text was its own invention.
Here is the entire interaction that produced this image:
I've seen other people do much more sinister things with this! You can produce 100% realistic fake screenshots of news articles, tweets, that sort of thing, if you can convince the bot it's kosher to do so.
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as âproblematicâ in class and our professor was like, âThatâs cool, but âproblematicâ doesnât really mean anything. It means that the thing youâre describing has a problem, and in and of itself thatâs not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else itâs not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like youâre trying to say that this is bad, but you donât want to say âbad.â Is that right?â
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the âbadâ thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, âIâm uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.â
Once we stopped calling things âproblematicâ and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, âthatâs racistâ or âthatâs misogynisticâ or âew capitalism grossâ out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, âUhhh... Iâm not sure whatâs so bad?â and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I canât help but think of this professor being like, âGood starting point, now letâs get specific.â I think when we have to commit to saying âthatâs ___â it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever weâre claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes itâs art, and it should be full of problems, because thatâs what art is.
Scientists have developed a breakthrough âsuperfoodâ for honeybees by engineering yeast to produce the essential nutrients normally found in
TLDR- Modern agriculture pollen is low in nutrients, and there arenât enough wildflowers. Science has to develop vitamins to supplement the diets of agricultural bees. So plant some wildflowers for the wild bees near you.
youâve heard of vitamin B, now get ready for bee vitamins
Youâre a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kidsâ parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.
[Audio starts]
âMom has been texting me for the last twenty minutes. She wants me to come home. Itâs a four hour drive, when the roads are clear, and from what I hear everybody is trying to get somewhere right now. Thereâs no telling if Iâd even-â
âEverybody else has left. All the other kids were picked up, the other staff left. They gave me all the keys. I promised to stay and wait for as long as- well. Even if some of the parents show up, I guess some of them wonât, so Iâm just waiting. Until.â
[Clears throat.]
âA couple of people came after everybody left. Peter, one of Aidanâs fathers, gave me three hundred dollars for staying. What am I going to do with money? Itâs- anyway. I kind of get it. He wanted to give me something.â
[Audio ends]
[Audio starts]
âTheyâre all between 2 and 4.â Sniff. âTheyâre so little. Too little to really- maybe if they were older, Iâd have to tell them something. But um. Iâm just- trying to stay calm and keep them happy and occupied. I think thatâs the best thing, right now.â
[Heaving breaths.]
âI normally use this recorder to help me remember stuff. Itâs just, uh, habit to talk to it. I donât know. Theyâre napping, right now. Iâve got the baby monitor, they know that if they talk into it, Iâll come, so-â
[Sobbing.]
[Audio ends]
[Audio starts]
âMom keeps texting, so I blocked her. I sent her a text telling her goodbye, first, but. I do. But these kids need me.â
[Sniff.]
âI tried calling their parents again, but I canât get anybody. Itâs just busy signals. I called the firefighter station, 911. I canât get through to anybody.â
[Shaky breath.]
âI went out into the yard. Um, I think they can play. Itâs nice out, and you canât really see it yet. Little bit of a glimmer, if they ask Iâll just tell them itâs a plane, but itâs nice out and weâve got hours before-â
[Murmuring childâs voice, indistinguishable.]
[Audio ends]
Keep reading
An engineer and an anti-vaxxer walk up to a bridge
Seeing as the bridge is the only crossing over a notoriously crocodile-infested river, the two prepare to cross. Just before they set foot on the bridge the anti-vaxxer halts the engineer.
- How safe is it to cross this bridge exactly? - he asks
- 99.97% - the engineer replies confidently
The anti-vaxxer thinks for a moment before turning around:
- Guess Iâm swimming thenâŚ
change your god damn url OP
i think a lot of people internalized the misogynistic idea that âmen are rational and women are emotionalâ and just went âthatâs true⌠but itâs a good thing!â instead of saying âthatâs obviously bullshit and we shouldnât perpetuate this belief in any formâ
Every day I handle more money than I will ever make. Every day.
At the start of my employment, my boss showed me videos of people stealing, and we both had a chuckle about it. How silly they were! There was a camera overhead, and itâs not to watch the shoppers. See, we canât actually stop shoplifters. They get away with it maybe nine out of ten times. But we, who are watched and tallied and witnessed? We are always caught.
At first it was hard to hold one hundred dollars bills. An amount I had never seen before. An amount that didnât exist in my household. Itâs normal now. Here is something that is not for me.
âWhat the hell, Iâll take another,â says the man, pondering our 200 dollar watches. What the hell. Total comes to 580 and not even a flinch in his face. I have been working for 11 hours today and made only 110 dollars. It will go to my rent. Today I work for free, it feels. When I get my check, I will have 35 dollars left for food and saving.
The six hundreds he hands me go into the cash register. For a moment, I imagine having money. Then I put it away, counting out his change.
I know for a fact we sell our products for double what they are worth. That I could be making commission. That they could hand me those 580 dollars and change my life and not even mark the difference in their checkbooks. Heâs not the only sale they make today, but I am the reason they made it. Heâs not the only one spending 600 dollars, but if I hadnât spent two hours with him telling me about his life, he wouldnât have spent any. I go home. I donât own a watch.
I have watched and rewatched a video on how to make salmon four ways. My shopping list is always the same. Pasta. Rice. Tuna. If I can afford butter it was a good week. I dream of the world I will never walk in, where I can throw the best fish fillet in the cart with a shrug. I hold hundreds in my hand and look up at the camera. I put them under the cash drawer.
I go to work. I scrap together my savings. I eat my bowl of rice slowly. My manager takes a paid week off from work just for his birthday. He owns a yacht.Â
Iâm not worth the cost of a watch.
i wrote this while i was working at orlandoâs walt disney world parks.
i was part of their college program. i moved to the state for it. they legally owned the building i was living in and still charged me rent. i ostensibly was being charged to work for them. it was a 2 bedroom apartment and they placed 6 adult women in it in forced triples.
as many as one in ten disney employees have experienced homelessness while working for the company. despite huge efforts to unionize, strike, or otherwise demand fair treatment; disney has refused to increase employee quality of life.
disney admits publicly that a good portion of their success is because the employees (âcast membersâ) are dedicated, passionate, and selfless. this is never reflected in pay. even âfaceâ characters (ie those that are princesses etc) make barely above a minimum wage.
at the time that i worked there, i made $8.50 an hour. at one point i was asked to create a human shield around a bag because a bomb dog had alerted to it. for eight fucking dollars an hour.
i now work a very cushy office job. i have bought the salmon and cooked it all four ways.
i go to the store. i am nice to the person behind the counter. she looks up at the camera while she counts out my change. there is nothing fundamentally different about her and i.
we are both worth more than the watch, anyway.