yesterday i made a beetle out of soda tabs and wire. we took the bus home.

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@shannon-kind
yesterday i made a beetle out of soda tabs and wire. we took the bus home.
I’m going to level with you. I have listened to The Devil Went Down to Georgia for most of my life. We were a country music household, this was a staple of my childhood along with Johnny Cash, Garth Brooks, and that one Chipmunks country album.
I have no idea what “Fire on the mountain run boys run/The Devil's in the house of the rising sun/Chicken in the bread pan picking out dough/Granny does your dog bite no child no” means and at this point I’m too scared to ask.
For once I can be of assistance.
Each of the lyrics comes from an old-time hickory song for fiddles, and is a lyric from that corresponding song.
"Fire on the Mountain" --> "Fire on the Mountain, run boys run"
Fire On The Mountain - Fiddle Player POV
"The House of the Rising Sun" --> "The Devil's in the house of the rising sun"
House of the Rising Sun
"Ida Red" --> "Chicken in the bread pan peckin' out dough"
Ida Red - Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys
"Granny Will Your Dog Bite" --> "Granny does your dog bite? 'No child, no'."
FTC #149 Granny Will Your Dog Bite
And for your furthered education, The Mountain Whipporwill.
Mountain Whippoorwill (aka How Hillbilly Jim Won the Great Fiddler's Prize)
this is the key part of the song, that a lot of people miss. people have this misconception that the contest between Johnny and The Devil is about who is the better fiddle player. but it isn't. its about who is the better fiddler.
in a time before things like radios and record players, every time you heard music was because there was somebody in the room with you playing an instrument. and many, many, many social events involved dancing, which requires music. so, if you're planning any kind of gathering in the american south or appalachia, you need to find a fiddler. and the fiddler's job is to play music that everybody knows and likes and can dance to.
the mistake The Devil makes in his bet with Johnny is that he misinterprets the contest as being about technical ability, so he has this big flashy song. he plays fast and impressively with a band of demons playing unfamiliar instruments in unfamiliar rhythms. he's definitely more skilled at playing than Johnny, and thinks he has it in the bag.
but Johnny wins because the contest is about being the best fiddler. the song uses these lines mentioned above as a shorthand for saying that Johnny is playing these songs. Johnny launches into a set of the most popular songs, played well, and that's what gives him his big win. A good fiddler knows all the hits, and can read the room to know what to play next. The Devil loses because he completely fails to read the room, and doesn't know the right songs.
also! another point about why johnny wins is that these songs are cultural touchstones. the devil launches his big flashy number, but johnny beats him with the power of connection to his culture. it's not a story about a guy being so good at fiddle he kicks the devil's ass, it's a story about a guy using the strength of his culture to win against someone who thinks he knows how to do it better
reblog if its okay for people to send you $5,000 dollars with no strings attached
locked the fuck in get my money up
idk anything about this but I love it
If any competition needed to be on Tumblr, it's this one.
this is in perfect iambic meter and sounds like the first line of a weird poem
Rule #2
Don’t ever hug a lobster when you see one on the street,
For decorum is essential when a lobster you must greet.
You may comment on the weather, compliment his choice of hat,
But crustaceans like their space if one should stop them for a chat.
Don’t ever hug a lobster when you’re strolling down the coast,
Simply nod and give a greeting, or a handshake at the most,
For a lobster’s first priority is formal social graces,
And one seemes over-familiar if a lobster one embraces.
Don’t ever hug a lobster when you meet one in the sea,
For a lobster’s spines and chitin make it difficult, you see,
And he might become self-conscious if you bring that fact to light,
So don’t ever hug a lobster, simply put, it’s impolite.
Wake up babe, new octopus just dropped
He's such a little guy!
RIP to the legend
The Librarians: The Next Chapter season 2 premieres on August 2nd!
This video made me cry so I wanted to put it here
I wrote a eulogy
"I wrote a eulogy for my best friend last week. Then I read it to him. At the pub. On a Tuesday."
He was alive, holding a pint, looking at me like I'd lost my mind. Maybe I have.
I'm Mick. I'm 70. The man across the table was Barry. Seventy-two. Best mate for 46 years. Met on a building site in 1979. He dropped a plank on my foot. I called him something unrepeatable. He bought me a pint after the shift. Haven't gone a week without talking since.
Three months ago we went to a funeral. Bloke we'd worked with. Cancer. The eulogies were beautiful - people saying what he meant to them, things they'd clearly never said to his face. And all I could think was, he can't hear any of this.
Every beautiful sentence. Every "he changed my life." Said to a room of crying people and a box of wood.
I turned to Barry. Whispered, "What a waste."
Drove home. Couldn't sleep. Because I realised, if Barry died tomorrow, I'd stand up and say extraordinary things about this man. Things I've never said in 46 years. And he'd be in the box, missing all of it.
So I wrote them down. Took a week. Harder than expected - not finding the words, but admitting I had them.
Rang him. "Tuesday. The Crown. Need to read you something."
"Have you joined a book club?"
"Just come."
Same corner table. Pint of bitter. Crisps. I pulled out the paper. He saw my hands shake.
"Mick. What's this?"
"Your eulogy. I'm reading it now because I'm not wasting it on a day you can't hear it."
"Have you gone mad?"
"Probably. Shut up and listen."
I read it. In a pub. To a man very much alive and very much uncomfortable.
I told him about the plank and how it was the best injury of my life. About the night he drove forty minutes in rain to help change a tyre. About how he rang every day for three months after my divorce and never once asked "Are you alright?" - just talked about football and weather, because he knew I didn't need a question. I needed a voice.
I told him he was the funniest man I'd ever known and his jokes were terrible and both things were true. That he'd been a better father than he thinks. That his wife's a saint and he knows it. That I'd have been a worse man without him.
He didn't look at me. Stared at his pint. Jaw tight. Doing that thing men do when the feelings arrive and they'd rather swallow glass than show it.
When I finished, long silence. Then he picked up his pint, took a sip, and said,
"You're paying for the next round. And the one after."
That was his answer. Perfect. Because Barry doesn't say "I love you too." He says "you're buying."
But in the car park, he hugged me. Not the quick back-pat. A real one. Thirty seconds. Neither let go first.
And he said quietly into my shoulder, "Don't read that again at the real one. I want new material."
Who would you write a eulogy for - while they're still here?
Don't wait. The flowers can't hear. The box doesn't laugh. Say it now. At the pub. Over a bad cup of tea. You'll feel ridiculous.
They'll look uncomfortable. It'll be the most important thing you've ever done.
Read them the speech while they can still hug you in the car park.”
.
(via Saturday Morning Cartoons: Baopu #15) by Yao Xiao
words to remember
THIS HAS MADE AN ACTUAL DIFFERENCE IN MY LIFE!!
Implementing this has improved how I feel about myself, and HOW I SEE OTHER PEOPLE!!
I’m not a burden to put up with. I’m a person who deserves respect, but does have some idiosyncrasies.
Other people aren’t barely tolerating me, they’re being patient and considerate and working hard to be polite.
And I find that when I acknowledge the good I see in other people, they feel respected and appreciated.
Must read every time it comes across my dash
breaking news! new beautiful photo of the best species of frog in the world just dropped
cochranella euknemos, 📸 nuqui_herping on instagram
for everyone in the notes lamenting that this guy is poisonous: they are not! they're just pretty :) since they're a glass frog, their major defense mechanism is being translucent and hiding their blood while they sleep so they look extra translucent and blend in with leaves <3
had to paint em real quick
so our friend who goes by Irregular Joe in robot wars circles has crafted The Luggage, who is "a 13.6kg sportsman featherweight"
just look at it go!!!!
sound on, by the gods
magic has advanced so much now mimics dont wait to be approached...it coming after frieren by itself
we always felt like through morphic resonance, The Luggage is the og Mimic - even though technically mimics came first
@elodieunderglass this sure is a horrible thing with legs?
WOAG…… innovations……
Ron Weasley yelling “Expensive Petroleum” while filling up his car might be the peak of comedy
one way to read this is "this man has no idea what he is saying"
another to read this is "this man is terminally online and has excellent comedic timing"
Okay, this is fantastic.
Definitely the second. I've seen this trend done by bored/confused folks, and the inflection is all wrong. This man *understands* the joke and has 10/10 charisma.