Dangerous Dogs Behind “Beware Of Dog” Signs.
Joey has killed more than you can imagine.
styofa doing anything
Keni

blake kathryn
Sweet Seals For You, Always
almost home

titsay
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
No title available

roma★

No title available
ojovivo
Mike Driver
Claire Keane
Today's Document
Jules of Nature
trying on a metaphor
art blog(derogatory)

Andulka

pixel skylines
$LAYYYTER

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines

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

seen from United States

seen from Jordan
seen from United States
seen from United States

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

seen from Australia
@potatochimp
Dangerous Dogs Behind “Beware Of Dog” Signs.
Joey has killed more than you can imagine.
this vine saved me
i keep thinking about this vine and it’s honestly so wonderful, this is such pure and good content. im honestly tearing up because this isn’t just hilarious to us like these two people are genuinely having a good time without hurting anyone or doing anything overly complicated. this is such a beautiful moment and im so glad they decided to share it with us all. this vine is a rare ray of sunshine in the nuclear winter we call life
The Simpsons was the most honest show out there
Me: *pouring fabric softener*
Brain: drink
Me: ??? no???
Brain: smell nice. drink
c’mon it wasn’t THAT bad
-gandhi
the honeypot emoji is so underrated give her her moment 🍯
me @ myself: if you do this incredibly easy task today you won’t have to do it tomorrow
myself @ me: fuck you…
are you gonna pick those penne noodles out of the boiling water one by one like a man, or are you gonna use a strainer like some kind of democrat?
People who mock "p.c. culture" are ignoring the racial recklessness—and lack of safety—suffered by people of color
“The suggestion that Black college students who ask not to be confronted with Blackface on Halloween or not to be called “nigger” as they walk through campus are somehow seeking to undercut the power and importance of the Bill of Rights evinces a poor understanding of American History. If the defense of freedom means always defending the right of white people to engage in racial recklessness at the expense of racial minorities, then perhaps we should consider whether freedom is the thing for which we are really fighting.”
Read the full essay here <- VERY USEFUL FOR DISCUSSING THE ISSUE!
yall
y’all,
H & M just shitted on my whole life
ive listened to this like 7 times now
i’m on a coffee high and this is giving me heart palipatations
I think this is what anxiety sounds like
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
My cousin is trying to toilet train her 20 pound cat and she sent me this and I’m crying
dog: for dog ? :)
me: not for dogs!!!
dog: ...
dog: for dog ? :)
someone: don't overreact
me, already digging my grave and shovelling dirt on myself: i'm not