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A cat is a machine that turns proteins into violence.

#Helios was declawed by his former owners so he doesn't just slap things he dislikes like most cats#he really only feels confident in hissing at them#Especially because a lot of the thing he doesn't like are bugs and those are sharp sometimes :(#Selene has figured this out and now when she hears him hiss she sprints over the kill the fuck out of the bug#Helios has learned she will do this so he'll hiss at stuff louder and louder until she hears him#A nervous old man and his emotional support homicidal maniac tags by @gallusrostromegalus

I couldn't reblog without the tags because the context is hilarious

gallusrostromegalus

A Nervous Old Man (right) and his Emotional Support Violence Machine (Left)

Yes, he is more than twice her size. Yes, he is five times her age. Yes, he cries like a big baby until she kills Unacceptable Scary Things (earwigs) for him.

zootycoon-archive

i got these knockoff boots online and instead of the brand name on the tag they have the name of an apparently nonexistent martin scorsese movie??? what the fuck

loseremo

syzygy-yzygy

THE ORIGINAL? ON MY DASH

this-too-too-sullied-flesh

this post led to a series of events that had martin scorsese himself reacting to his alleged movie goncharov and it has less than 400k notes almost 3 years later?

gallusrostromegalus

Hello! I read (and enjoyed!) the story you posted of your grandpa and his tree disposal methods, and so was looking for the story you mentioned of your other grandpa menacing a peach tree with a baseball bat, but can't seem to find it. Halp?

That would be because I haven’t posted it yet! Many people have requested the story mentioned in the tags “Grandpa Menaces a Peach Tree With A Baseball Bat”, So here it is, with a side of “Grandpa Menaces The Iowa Relatives With Giant Corn”**

For the Full Context of this tale, you have to understand how my dad’s side of the family got to America in the first place. Prior to 1917, they were all farmers of limited success that migrated from county to county, trying not to starve, until a covey of the Fitzpatricks heard that they could be shoveling shit in Grand Americay, far away from the people they owed money to, so they all fucked off to Iowa and somehow made a fortune in the real-estate business in the middle of the depression. Despite now being comfortably middle-class, they never actually gave up farming, and having a pair of glowing green thumbs was a point of pride in the family.

So, when Grandpa moved out to California, specifically to the Salinas Valley, which is where an absurd percentage of the country’s food is grown because it’s full of probably the world’s most stupidly good soil, Grandpa had to continue the tradition and set up a garden in the backyard, planted various crops and flowers in January because fuck you this is coastal California, I can start stuff in the middle of winter, and invited his sister Leone and her growing brood of (at the time, 5, later 9 children) out to visit.

They came out in July, to escape the Midwest humidity and Butter fetish for a time, when the corn is typically getting to be around knee-height if things are going well. Grandpa spent a long time asking how things were back on the farm, plying them with ice tea and grandma’s lethal Angel Food cake, before politely inviting Leone and her Husband Scotty out back to see how his patch was doing, oh its not much really, just a bit of fun for me and the children-

Scotty and Leone stared at the nine-foot-tall goddamn corn which was already setting fruit because it had been going since January. At the watermelon plant that had taken over the side-yard, and at the other oversize and thriving crops that had taken over grandpa’s yard. There was a few moments of awed silence.“Well fuck you Edwin.” Scotty eventually said, before Leone whopped him over the head and the rest of the visit was a pleasant diversion.

the following spring though, Grandpa received a package from Iowa, specifically a small peach tree with a note saying “With Love, Scotty.”

Leone knew better than to engage in such shenanigans, because this is irish-agrarian passive-aggressive Bullshittery at its absolute finest. “Sure, yeah, you can do corn. Any asshole can do corn. TRY THIS FUSSY-ASS PEACH VARIETAL INSTEAD, YOU ASS” is perhaps a more accurate translation.

Grandpa, not about to be intimidated by a mere tree, planted that sucker in the front yard and proceeded to pamper it- bone meal fertilizer, a brand-new irrigation system, the works. Hell, he would go out some times and talk to the darn thing. It flowered, and he borrowed a behive from one of the local farmers to make DARN SURE that it got pollinated, because he was going to mail peaches to Scotty for Christmas, that asshole.

The tree. Did not. fruit.

That fall, grandpa reccived a letter from Scotty, asking after a couple paragraphs of circumlocutions, how that tree he sent was doing?Grandpa got up, made himself a martini, picked up Dad’s baseball bat, and walked out to the front yard to have a discussion with the Peach tree. “I’ve just received a letter.” he explained, waving the paper at the tree. “Asking when you’re going to fruit. Now, I think I’ve held up my responsibilities to you as your caretaker, so it’s time for you to start providing. Do you understand? This spring, you better start fruiting or I will personally take this bat to you and turn you to into kindling.”

He stepped close to the tree, sticking his face in the branches as though whispering into it’s hypothetical ear. “Do not test me, you little shit.”The next week, the tree bloomed out of season, and by February, it had set an obscene amount of fruit, which grandpa gleefully turned into preserves and mailed back to Iowa.

gallusrostromegalus

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE: I e-mailed dad to tell him that that peach tree story is much popular on this site, and he mailed me back with: “You realize Scotty mailed Grandpa an ornamental tree right? It wasn’t supposed to fruit at all.

He was gonna tell Grandpa it was sterile on his deathbed, because Scotty was an ass like that. He was so mad when Grandpa mailed the peaches that he wrote a fairly nasty letter back accusing him of being a charlatan and that his corn was skinny and probably fake too. Grandpa was furious and mailed them polaroids of the tree to show that HE WAS NOT FAKING IT, THANK YOU, and Scotty accused him of taping store peaches to the tree, ad so on.

This went on for several years and got rather bitter, until the Iowans came out to California again, and Grandpa drove Scotty from the airport at ten at night to show him the goddamn tree, with the real fruit it was actually growing, thank you.

Scotty was about to argue with him when Leone whopped him over the head with her purse and said “If I hear one more goddamn word about this tree, they’ll never find your corpse. Now lets go in, I want a martini.”

Things got much better with the Iowans after that.

You should’ve heard Leone cackle when your grandmother showed up at Scotty’s funeral with a peach cobbler though.”

I’M FUCKING DYING. WE MOVED THAT TREE AFTER GRANDPA DIED AND IT’S STILL FUCKING FRUITING.

(if you laughed, consider giving me tip on Ko-fi, and see more lore on Patreon)

gallusrostromegalus

So it's national Recreational Explosives, Hand Loss and Wildfire day, and unlike 2023, there is nary a drop of rain in sight.

Despite being slapped upside the head by God, my put technically inclined neighbor has acquired TWO pallets of fireworks this year.

The state is of no help: my city police department has made it pretty clear they don't intend to respond to any fireworks calls this weekend. I've sent the pictures I took to the county tipline and received and automated email reply saying that it will take several weeks to process my case. Perhaps he will get jail time later, but this does not actually you know. Stop him from setting the neighborhood ablaze. Going up to his door the week prior and very politely asking him to move- not cancel, just relocate - his celebrations was met with calling me a "nosy bitch" and "I'll set one off in your ass!".

Sometimes God needs us to make our own miracles.

My miracle comes with several layers, and plenty of opportunities to back down without losing face. We'll see how many are needed.

The first wave has already been deployed: a psyop directed at the Visiting Mother In Law of the miscreant.

I got up at 8:30 AM this morning to make sure I'd be in the front yard of my house, casually doing yardwork with Herschel. His participation was essential.

gallusrostromegalus

Well, they Psyop seems to have worked! That cul-de-sac, and indeed my entire block is perfectly quiet tonight!

Unfortunately I cannot say the same of the surrounding neighborhood, so it has been necessary to deploy The Stench.

gallusrostromegalus

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

gallusrostromegalus

Well. It's the Fourth Of July. Again.

For those of you who aren't familiar, I live in an exceptionally flammable part of the United States, and despite the fact that every goddamn year multiple parts of my state catch fire, destroy homes and kill people, the local assholes insist on getting drunk and setting fire to a bunch of illegal explosives anyway. In 2023, God granted me a Miracle that prevented my house from burning down.

Last year, I had to resort to Psychological and Chemical Warfare to keep the patriotic arsonists at bay.

This year is apparently An Important Birthday for the clusterfuck we have the nerve to call a nation, so despite the fact there is so much smoke in the air that the sun has literally been blood red for the last week, the pyrotechnic fetishists are out in force.

Last year, I hit upon the concept that if my neighbors were going to act like problem animals, it would make sense to use the management techniques on them that you might use on say, a Bear that was doing serious property damage. Thusly, I created The Stench, a nontoxic but FOUL smelling concoction that I could discretely spray around the flammable gatherings and render the area extremely uncomfortable to occupy for the rest of the night, forcing them to give up or move on.

If this seems harsh: There is no story from 2024 because a grass fire was started by fireworks less than 12 miles from me and the high winds put me in the evacuation zone in under an hour. Over fifty people lost their homes. Errant fireworks burning my house down is a very real possibility, and I pay the price in anxiety and insurance premiums.

The Stench is noxious but harmless, and also very effective at building a buffer zone around my home. But sneaking up to parties on foot in this heat is both exhausting and nerve-wracking. There have to be more effective ways to do this

-And there is! It involves Weeds and Business Cards :)

gallusrostromegalus

Well. It's not quite an hour into July 5th. I am very tired, may have destroyed my sense of smell, and am not sure if I'm proud of or VERY disappointed in my fellow citizens.

On one hand: FAR fewer fireworks parties this year!

- Only nine to last year's thirteen - three of them had the good sense to be firing their recreational explosives out over the local reservoir - That's far from foolproof - and really bad for the fish - also y'all are RIGHT NEXT to where the Bald Eagles are nesting - but congratulations on at least attempting some risk mitigation!

On the other hand.

korennu

I am… speechless.

SPEECHLESS!

I am so SO happy you are unhurt and well. I am giddy you managed to save all of us of even more fires!

I am also… incredulous that people just… let you do “your job”…

In the age of Karens and whatever the male counterpart to that is; in the age of clout and Facebook and social media… NO ONE EVEN TRIED, ONCE, TO PREVENT YOU FROM DOING YOUR JOB?!?!?!

I think I also fell prey to the social media toxicity, where everyone is filming everything and waiting to be That Person (TM) who is a badass and manages to save the day.

I am disappointed, but so fucking GLAD this is how it ended. Stay safe, love, because people be crazy

draconym

Getting dumped really puts children's cartoon villains into perspective. Like dude you're SO right, love and caring ARE disgusting and we SHOULD cast a spell to drain all human emotion into your amulet.

draconym

Friend breakups are how you get lines like "Your friends? You think your friends are coming to save you? Don't make me laugh."

the-zenith-calls

My favorite scenes in the LotR books are the ones where Legolas has vital information and just decides it's not important to share.

Like when Gandalf spent literal PAGES trying to figure out why the vibes were off in Moria and Legolas chimes in with just "it's a balrog :) that shit's evil :) we're so fucked :)" like what do you MEAN you knew already and just didn't tell him??

Or at the beginning of Two Towers when Aragorn thinks there's something nearby so he puts his ear to the ground to listen, and then like 10 minutes later is like "hmmm i hear horses" and Legolas is just like "mm yep. there are 105 blond bitches with spears" like you just let your friend put his face in the dirt and you can SEE them??

Legolas please gain a sense of urgency

knives-in-the-dishwater

It's because legolas hasn't spent enough time with non-elves to remember that they don't know what he knows.

gandalf is scratching his head in moria, and legolas is thinking "oh man, the wizard noticed something off *besides* the obvious balrog that we all are aware of??"

"I wonder what aragorn is listening for? must be hard to hear, what with all of the horses. How many horses are there, actually? 1... 2... 3..."

taavicleric

"What do your elvish eyes see?" is Aragorn saying, as politely as possible, "Because the REST OF US are at a significant disadvantage, Prince Dipshit."

enki2

what-even-is-thiss

People can have such specific allergies. I met someone once who’s allergic to raw tomatoes

what-even-is-thiss

korennu

I know someone who is allergic to pork, but if the pork is smoked, no allergic reaction happens.

I know someone else who is allergic to mangoes, but give her dried mango? No allergic reaction.

And I don’t mean they have light allergies, one feels her throat dtart to swell shut, the other one ends up swollen and red, rashes all over.

Bodies are weird! And processing the food makes it even weirder

gatheringbones

[“On Anise Girard’s first night at La Santé, a German soldier entered her cell to tell her she was to be executed at four-thirty the following morning. While seized by a “visceral, terrible fear,” she was not surprised. She knew that the penalty for military espionage was death.

Throughout the night, she waited in a daze for the inevitable, as the loud chime of an unseen clock sounded every quarter of an hour. At three o’clock, she knelt at the side of the cot in her cell and began to pray. The chimes continued—3:30; 3:45; 4:00; 4:15; 4:30. Still no sign of her executioners. At seven, she braced herself as a key turned in the lock. A female guard came in, bearing a cup of coffee. “Either my death warrant had been countermanded, or I had been the victim of a standard procedure for demoralizing new prisoners,” she later wrote.

But escaping death failed to ease Anise’s deep depression and sadness over being confined indefinitely to this tiny, filthy cell, its walls scarred with the signatures of previous inmates. “The loneliness was unbearable. I came from a house with five children, and suddenly all that was gone. The first few days I hated myself. Why had I gotten involved? Why had I inflicted this on my family?”

On her first night at La Santé, Germaine Tillion, too, was threatened with death. A German guard entered her cell and informed her she would be killed the next morning. “I believed him,” she later said. “And I entered into an intense state of thought. I began to think about life, about the philosophy of life. And I shrugged my shoulders.”

The guard was incredulous. “You’re shrugging your shoulders?” he shouted.

At that moment, Germaine roused herself from her meditation: “I told him, ‘Oh, excuse me, sir, I had forgotten you.’

This staggered him so much that he began to gasp for air. Then he began yelling again and left.

“The fact that I had forgotten him—that sent him into a rage. It was instinctive on my part, but it was also a way of dominating. In effect, I was saying to him: ‘I look at you, I judge you, I weigh you, and you are…what are you? You are a minuscule flea that I study under the microscope.’ ”]

lynne olson, from the sisterhood of ravensbrück: how an intrepid band of frenchwomen resisted the nazis in hitler’s all-female concentration camp, 2025

penny-anna

The thing is every step of the situation does actually make perfect sense if you follow it more closely. Why is Farage stepping down and immediately re-running? Well he's trying to delay the investigation into his finances and also pull a PR stunt. Why is no-one else running? Well they don't actually want him out of parliament yet because they want the investigation to continue. Why is his main competitor a man with a bin on his head? Oh that's just Count Binface, he runs every time there's a high profile by-election. Why is he Count Binface? Well he used to be Lord Buckethead but he had to drop the character due to a copyright dispute. Why was he Lord Buckethead? Well in 1977, Star Wars was released in cinemas,

penny-anna

miseducatedmelanicmuse

adamsmasher

hi I’m a therapist some people come to me to break down severe childhood trauma some people come to me because their job is super stressful some people come to me because they’re worried all the time about stuff that they know they shouldn’t be worried about but they worry anyway some people come to me because they’re bad at focusing some people come to me because their mom said they should but they’re enjoying the experience anyway what i’m saying is there is no wrong time, reason, or explanation to come see a therapist. we’re ready for you.

starfire003

Reblogging because someone probably needs to hear this.

marinella-ela

drtanner

The soft eyes! The forward facing ears! The question mark tail! Not to mention the poise and control! This little dude is having a blast and is SO good at it!!

black spotted tabby

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"

marian-devotee

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 🍣 🥲

thetruerarkher

sugar-petals

hot take in a roundabout way i think that's also why so many of us opt out of becoming parents ourselves

advanced-passenger-train

Does anybody know how to fix it

rosslynpaladin

Start disappointing people and not backing out of it when they are upset, reject feeling ashamed of everything including of yourself, start saying No to things you do not want to do not just things you're scared of, do more of those things you're scared of but wish you could do, make your own plans and execute them, decide to do or not do something without basing it on who will Dislike it.

Free Will takes practice, and the chance of making someone somewhere Slightly or even Very Disappointed In You. But you're an adult and you can't be made to stand in a corner anymore.

korennu

Wait wait this is… this is not a me thing?

This is an actual thing that other people have done to other children?

This is… this is a WHOLE ASS THING?!

@satsetekh hey, lookie here