❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
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🪼
Andulka
ojovivo
shark vs the universe
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
styofa doing anything
Show & Tell
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
todays bird
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Peter Solarz
Love Begins
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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#extradirty
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@thebaff
A new mode of production arises out of the newly networked masses.
Fanartists:
Thingiverse users:
Royalty free sounds
Flash games
Productivity has always been there
Because shockingly when people enjoy what they do (you make it enjoyable instead of just hammering on them) people WANT to do things!
Fanfiction authors!!
Where is the button to shout this from the rooftop?
reminder to stay loyal to the accounts that never post shit but reblog everything. they are the realest
For those of you who haven't watched Nimona yet, this is all you need to know about the movie
Pete Buttigieg is just a faggot.
It's very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you're trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you're why the cishets don't accept us or including [aces/bi people with the 'wrong kind' of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can't you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? -- to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.
On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids -- late teens, early 20s -- asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled -- or didn't handle -- the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the "women don't get AIDS, they just die from it" poster. And so on.
I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, "they didn't care until it started infecting more than just the fags." I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, "remember when they called it 'gay cancer?'"
That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.
Never.
These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can't have it and they'll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They'll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.
And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.
Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.
You couldn't create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.
But Pete Buttigieg? Is just a fag.
That's the part you don't seem to get: when they abandoned us, they abandoned all of us. Rock Hudson was a beloved movie star and even personally friendly with that horrid pair of ambitious jackals. Nancy Reagan refused to help him get into the only place in the world that could treat him at the time, and he died.
It was 1985, 4 years after the CDC first released papers on what would eventually become known as HIV/AIDS and 7 years after the first known death from an infection from HIV-2. Reagan hadn't even said the word AIDS by the time Hudson died.
Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I'm a dyke, which seems to depend on who's yelling what from which window and what day it is.
Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they're the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They're the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word "dyke" in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don't fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.
Most cishets, though... well, they don't actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you're right there in front of them. Maybe they'll be okay with you, personally, especially if you're the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.
They need people to know that they don't have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You're useful.
But they call you by your deadname when you're not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won't put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.
I didn't want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he'd advocated for that tattoo being "over their assholes."
(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.
Fucker.)
But yeah. I didn't want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven't given up.
I need you to know that, too. This isn't a white flag. I'm not surrendering. This isn't over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.
But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them -- and he's not -- then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can't trim ourselves down to something they'll accept.
The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we're here, we're queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It's revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don't challenge them too much, or it's conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we've got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.
That's it. Either it's all of us or it's none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don't agree with it but we'll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.
The brunch gays can come, too, I guess.
If you think this essay was about Pete Buttigieg and my feelings about him as a person or a politician, you have ENTIRELY MISSED the point of what I wrote.
Substitute your favorite queer in there. Doesn't matter who. Alan Cumming? Laverne Cox? Suzy Izzard? Sure.
It isn't about him. It's about them, about the cishets, and it's about us - all of us - either on the same fucking boat together or drowning alone.
I'll say it every time I get one of these point-missing replies or tag groups. The Secretary of Transportation is just an example in this essay. He is a gay man who my father would like until he found out he's a little light in the loafers. That's it.
It's not about him. Don't miss the point.
[Image Description:
tags that read:
#FUCKING THIS #all of this #been saying this about fucking Mayor Pete for years #because frankly he's been selling out the queer community for years in order to get the Respectables tm to give him the votes #queer politics.
End Image Description]
Hey, remember when I said this a year ago?
Feels fucking prescient with that DeSantis ad.
That fucker.
PROOF OF A HERO.
The Cock and Ball Torture Wikipedia Page Vocoded to the US National Anthem (you're welcome)
bringing this back for the big day
The Cock and Ball Torture Wikipedia Page Vocoded to the US National Anthem (you're welcome)
bringing this back for the big day
Illustrations for Terry Pratchett’s Carpe Jugulum, that i did in this semester.
MORE PHOTS IN MUH REBLOG
Psst. Don't tell the jolkein rolkein rolkein estate, but this is amazing. DO consider buying a print from the extraordinary artist responsible:
https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/leiaham/
Original Twitter thread with the artist's thoughts and commentary:
The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom
I NEED YOUR HELP TO SPREAD THIS
This blog in the photo accompaninstuo91 does not have a proper blog. When you click on their blog, an image pops up asking you if you're 18 and if you say yes or no, it directs you to a virus/porn site that isnt on tumblr
The bots are evolving to actively redirect you/ give viruses to you
Please reblog this so you dont fall victim. Do not click follow or try to go onto their blog, instead the only way to report them is to click the little three dots and click report
@staff please stop shit like this
Bastion!
Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*
My cat: Father is...evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.
The spiritual successor to Miette
Might I also add
May i add the piece from artist Verbal Vomit
Glad to see we’re all in agreement that cats talk like disparaged victorian children
I am so incredibly glad we finally moved on from "i can has". Cats are clearly smart enough for advanced sentence structure and dumb enough to draw entirely incorrect conclusions about what they're talking about.
My cat, banging the cabnet door over and over and over: bang bang bang
Me: you will not earn what you desire by banging the cabinet door.
My cat: This is a test of wills, is it not? We shall see if your ability to put up with my incessant banging outlasts my eternal lust for snackie treats. Years of conditioning have hardened me for this purpose. bang bang bang
Me: ksst!
My cat, throwing herself to the ground like she's been shot: Oh! Oh I have been assailed in my own home! Have mercy, have pity! Surely in the cruel darkness of your heart there is some mote of goodness that might stay your hand! Do not strike me, I pray you!
Me: ok
My cat, after waiting about 3 minutes: bang bang bang
Can haz snackytreat
(source)
Jesse: "Yo, Mr. Fring, I've been thinking about this quote, man. "One must imagine Sisyphus happy." What do you make of that?"
Gus: "Ah, Jesse, I see you've stumbled upon the existential musings of Albert Camus. It's an intriguing concept, to say the least."
Gus: "Sisyphus, condemned to an eternity of rolling a boulder uphill only to watch it roll back down again, represents the futility and absurdity of life's struggles."
Gus: "However, Camus suggests that by accepting and embracing this absurdity, one can find happiness."
Jesse: "Yeah, but I mean, isn't that just some crazy philosophical bullshit? How can someone be happy in such a fucked-up situation?"
Gus: "Happiness, Jesse, is a state of mind. It's not about the circumstances we find ourselves in, but rather how we choose to perceive and respond to them."
Gus: "Sisyphus, despite his eternal struggle, can find meaning and purpose in his repetitive task. By embracing his fate and finding fulfillment in the act itself, he transcends the burden he carries."
Jesse: "That's deep shit, man. So, what, you're saying we should just accept all the crap that comes our way and be happy about it?"
Gus: "Not necessarily. Acceptance doesn't mean complacency. It means acknowledging the realities of our situation and finding a way to navigate them while maintaining our inner peace."
Gus: "It's about finding meaning in the journey, even if the destination remains elusive."
Jesse: "Yeah? I guess that makes sense in some messed-up, twisted way... Hey, speaking of finding happiness, have you tried Taco Bell's Nacho Fries? They're insane, man!"
Gus: "...Nacho Fries, Mr. Pinkman?"
Jesse: "Oh, you gotta try 'em, Mr. Fring! They're like these crispy, seasoned fries with this gooey cheese dipping sauce. It's like a flavor explosion in your mouth, man. I bet you'd love 'em."
Gus: "If they are as remarkable as you claim, perhaps we can find a moment to indulge. After all, even in the face of existential ponderings, we mustn't forget to appreciate life's simpler pleasures."
Jesse: "That's what I'm talkin' about, Mr. Fring! We'll have ourselves a little culinary adventure amidst all the fucking chaos. Life's all about finding those moments of joy, even if it means embracing the absurdity along the way, right?"
Gus: "Indeed, Jesse. Life's contradictions often lead us to unexpected discoveries. Perhaps, we may find a glimpse of Sisyphus' elusive happiness in the process."
