2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@thebratreblogs
No, Mr. Horse, donât worry, I certainly donât have a Plinko down here! What I do have is this lovely cask of wine, specifically for horses, Amontillado in fact! Exquisite vintage.
I know youâre not supposed to be in this hospital, but if youâll just follow me down this corridorâno, thatâs not blood on the floor, itâs color theory, Iâll explain it laterâI can bring you to this cask of wine that is certainly NOT a plinko machineâ
I'm telling you, Blorbo, I have the finest copy of my shows in the basement, please follow me
we can take the Eeby Deeby - no, no, I promise it's not going to Gay Superhell - look, Eebders Deebeorg was an outlier adn should not have been counted
Where did I get this Eeby Deeby? Well, there was this lovely Middle Eastern gentleman who was selling copper, the finest copperâ
hnnnnngg Iâm trying to get blorbo into my plinko but the eeby deeby I bought from the copper merchant who as it turns out was EXTREMELY disreputable (who is he, to treat me with such contempt?!) is dummy thicc, thicc enough to block the Suez Canal in fact, and the eebert of the deebert is so scrimblo bimblo it keeps alerting the horse
yoU PLINKO BLORBO?! you plinko blorbo like the HORSE?! Oh, Eeby Deeby for Glup Shitto! Eeby Deeby for Glub Shitto for 1000 YEARS
âEeby Deebyâ is, in this case, putting an orange buttered cat face-first into a trashcan
my name is blorb and when its nite and eeby deeby castiel's flight poe and wine cause discourse
i'm ever given; i plink the horse
Historians are going to have to explain this culture someday.
My brother-in-law inherited a legit plinko machine. I foolishly referenced and then had to explain the plinko horse meme. It's a good thing he already knew I was weird.
WaitâŚwhy are busses depicted as a dangerous way to commute in American media?
I never really thought about it before but busses are one of the safest ways to commute to work I can imagine. Iâm not ever worried when I take the train but if I had to pick which Iâd feel more safe on it would be the bus.
I used to travel between towns late at night when I was a teenager/young adult woman and it would be straight up cozy and a nice way to end my day.
I think a bus feels safter to me because the driver is always right there in case something happens, while youâre kinda on your own on a train late at night.
So did you ever see Who Framed Roger Rabbit? Remember the plotline about the Red Car trolley being bought out and dismantled by Cloverleaf, and the villain's Big Reveal that they planned to demolish Toontown and put a highway through it, and people would use it because the Red Car trolley wasn't there to use anymore and so they'd be FORCED to buy a car?
That really happened, in the US. Only instead of the villain being an evil cartoon posing as a judge, the villain was General Motors and Ford and all the big car companies. They bought public transit lines and dismantled them. They lobbied congress to fund the interstate highway system and they CONTINUE to lobby the us govt to keep trains and public transit from having any money, while making sure the roads get lots of it. They are responsible not only for the dismantling of public transit but also the public's perception that public transit is bad and even dangerous.
American media thinks busses and trains are dangerous because the car companies have spent DECADES and billions of dollars on propaganda making sure Americans think that so they will continue to buy cars and not question how much roads and highways have destroyed the landscape.
its also a healthy dosage of classism and ableism and a hatred of homeless people and addicts all of which are the largest demographic of people who use the public bus
Also the racism. Canât forget the racism.
Fellas is it racist and classist to not want to get stabbed to death or set on fire?
"It's statistically rare!" Well, like the IRA said to Margaret Thatcher, you only need to get unlucky once.
Are you mixing up busses and subways? Like, seriously all the cases of that type I recall were subway-based, not specifically busses.
Also multiple things can be true simultaneously; public transit really was damaged on purpose, and also racism is part of it, but people still have a valid reason to not like their odds when having to be in close proximity to the large percentage of bus users who, as @pingintech points out, are statistically disproportionately mentally ill addict homeless people for a total of an hour or more per day every day. Hence we can lay some blame for this situation on Republican Ronald Regan for closing the asylums and putting all these poor crazy people out on the streets, and on the drug dealers, etc.
"Who Framed Roger Rabbit" was not a documentary.
Despite the wishful thinking of Communists, who do not understand "wrong" the way that fish do not understand "wet," large companies do not work in concert with their competitors to annihilate value that they could have used as a part of long-term plans to vaguely harm "workers" that they do not directly benefit from. The reason the car companies were able to buy the streetcar companies was that the streetcar companies were failing and going bankrupt and not worth very much! Streetcars were shit and useless by the time they were bought out, and not making any money, because people didn't want to use them, because streetcars fucking suck the moment cars exist because they still have to wait in traffic but you can't control where you can go. Once cars existed, people did not want to use streetcars. Car companies bought them, when they were purchased, for their manufacturing capabilities. Most of the time that didn't even happen.
Also it is important to point out to the communists further up the post that while the totally evil car manufacturing corporations supported the creation of the national freeway system and the connected highways for obvious reasons, they did not in any way provide the necessary political will to actually make the Interstate Highway System a real physical reality. Do you know what national institution did however have the political will and decades long patience to finally lobby congress enough to create the freeway system as we know it?
The United States Army.
Yes, that's right.
There is a reason that the full name of the system of roads and bridges that we shorten to The Freeway is the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways.
You see, starting all the way back in 1916, the U.S. Army commissioned a series of studies and exercises to determine how long it would take to move an army from one side of the nation to the other in the event of an invasion. The conclusions reached by these studies were not pleasant reading. If anything, the reports from the actual test transits were even worse. On average, transit time was 62 days of pure road travel. As in, not including time spent replacing broken axles, hauling trucks and tanks out of the mud, cleaning desert dust out of intakes and radiators etc.
Obviously, this is far too slow to keep up in a modern war and the Army made sure that Congress knew all about it. Improvements to roads were made slowly and in a piecemeal fashion all the way through WWII, but because the states themselves wholly owned and independently designed the highways they were in charge of, there was no standardization of road widths, materials or strength. A tank carrier might be fine crossing a bridge in one state, only to find that a nearby bridge in the next state over wasn't rated for that weight. Assuming the bridge was marked with its limitations at all.
So what changed?
General Eisenhower went to Germany and saw the Autobahn. While he hated everything that Nazi Germany stood for, he had to admit that Hitler was right about one thing and the German transport system was it. So when he returned to the U.S., he carried that inspiration with him and made it one of his top priorities during both of his presidential runs. This finally culminated in the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956, which not only provided the funding, initial routing and legal justification for our freeway system, it finally also standardized our highways.
In summery, history ignorant commies can be as mad as they want at Ford for making cars cheap and affordable enough to squash their mass-transit fantasies, but it is the Army that actually gets to claim credit for making it practical to drive all the way from Seattle to Orlando for a family vacation.
A young Eisenhower was on one of those cross country army convoys and it made a very large and very negative impression on him.
no nuance you have to decide
would jeeves have succumbed to the one ring?
no, he would diminish and go into the west and remain a valet
yes, he can't resist such power (burn bertie's ugliest trousers)
the ring has no effect on him, tom bombadil style
4 days left in the most important 'thoughts had just before going to sleep' poll I've ever made
"Well, Jeeves," I said, "That seems to be that."
"A consummation greatly desired," Jeeves agreed.
"The forces of darkness vanquished, the rightful king upon his throne, and all that. And, even more importantly, Tuppy Glossop disengaged from that horsy female and returned to the bosom of my cousin Angela."
"Indeed, sir."
"Rather a shock running into the Reverend Aubry Upjohn riding that fell beast, what?"
"I though you displayed great alacrity in relocating to that ditch in the nick of time, sir."
Far below us, the molten lava did a rather spirited impersonation of boiling soup. I mopped the p. off the b. with a handkerchief I'd improvised from an orc loincloth. I had been to some deuced uncomfortable country estates in my time, don't you know, but at least there one had been able to toddle downstairs and pour oneself a quick W. and S. as needed to stiffen the sinews. Galadriel's Buck-U-Uppo was excellent at vitalizing the limbs to forge on the last dreadful mile and all that, but it lacked the comfort that speaks to the soul.
I contemplated the glowing river. "Redirecting the army of Aunts to that Isengard place was a stroke of brilliance, I thought."
"You are too kind, sir."
"Still, all things must end, as they say. Travel is broadening to the mind and all, but it is past time to attend the call of heart and home. Among other considerations, I think something took residence inside this mithril shirt somewhere around the Morgul Vale and has been wandering about biting hither and thither ever since, and I am filled with the desire to strip it off and do battle with the blighted thing."
"Understandable, sir."
"I heard rather a good one the other day: Sing hey! for the bath at close of day that washes the weary mud away! -and by Jove if I don't think they were on to something, Jeeves."
"It is undeniably felicitous to be surrounded by the comforts of home," he assented, and yet I couldn't escape a certain sense of firmness about his gaze.
I sighed, for I knew what he wanted. Well, I mean, I'm all for taking a firm stance and not being trodden on in one's own home and all, but as far as rallying around to save the young master goes, none could have rallied more greatly than Jeeves. If a little firmness was the price I had to pay, well, so be it.
Slowly I undid the old school tie from around my neck. It was harder work than one would have thought; as if it could hear what was rattling around in the old brain, the ring that was threaded on it put in a last surge of effort in the gleaming and enticement department, filling my mind with heady visions: Freddie Widgeon gnashing his teeth as I sank yet another dart into the bullseye, Aunt Agatha wreathed in tears and begging my forgiveness for ever having misjudged me, Jeeves gazing admiringly as I displayed my newest waistcoat for his edificationâŚ
It was the last that broke the spell. Cursed objects of all-consuming power were all well and good in their sphere, but there were limits, don't you know? And yet I hesitated. "You don't think I could slip it on and just have a quick total domination of the world before I toddle around to the Drones for a stiff one?"
Jeeves gave a gentle cough of reproof. "I think you will find it for the best, sir."
It was a wrench, but one could not deny the man had earned it. With a heavy hand, I held the ring out to him. "Take it, then. You will know what do with it, I'm sure."
He took it from me with the sort of shimmer that showed he was exceptionally gratified. "Thank you, sir."
I watched as the ring fell from his hand into the depths below. It hit the lava and rested there for a moment before slowly sinking beneath the glowing surface, and as they caught fire I almost felt that the Old Etonian colors glowed brighter in approval. That Wooster, they seemed to say: not much in the brains department, but he gets the job done.
Outside, there came a hideous wailing as of something ages old abruptly losing the power which bound it to this mortal plain and all that, which I took as our signal to leg it down the nearest drainpipe before things got sticky. The road goes ever on and on, what? Yet I paused there, at the end of all things, because some things have to be said.
"No, thank you, Jeeves."
THANK YOU for understanding the assignment, bally good work, this.
@elodieunderglass I suspect you may enjoy this
Hahahaha; thanks @foxofninetales well done!
tumblr is great bc its like a diary where I can take other peoples diary entries and glue them into my own diary
Wooden tiles with character
e me a mail
make the attachment a pic of a snail
give me two gifs
of critters in clover
then photoshop them on the CLIIIIIIIFFS OF DOVER
I still reference this post today. And yes, when I say I reference it I mean I sing it.
Happy birthday to every American. I cant believe we were all born 241 years ago when Benjamin Franklin smote the ground and George Washington appeared fully formed on his horse, and the three of them - Washington, Franklin, and the horse - conducted the entire revolution by themselves
Paper lanterns in art, x
I. In the Garden by Vladimir Gusev
II. Japanese Lanterns by Luther Emerson van Gorder
carnation, lily, lily, rose (john singer sargent)
⥠What a lovely addition!! Hereâs some more;
(via)
The Lantern-Bearers, by Maxfield Parrish
Paper lanterns in art, x
I. In the Garden by Vladimir Gusev
II. Japanese Lanterns by Luther Emerson van Gorder
carnation, lily, lily, rose (john singer sargent)
⥠What a lovely addition!! Hereâs some more;
(via)
Do you think Clark Kent's first few major articles were about the continued presence of lead pipes in parts of Metropolis' water system
(Average Metropolis reader after investigative reporter C. Kent's 452nd article on yet another case of landlords/business owners/factories' continued use of lead pipes/paint/gas/glass knowingly exposing the public to dangerously toxic lead levels) what the fuck happened to this guy
One day Bruce Wayne mentions in an interview that heroes like Superman are overrated, as the most effective way to reduce crime is to provide public resources and improve local infrastructure, then cites how neighboring city Metropolis has effectively lowered their violent crime by 13% after addressing their outdated water system and investing low income housing. the reporter conducting the interview suddenly starts looking a little uncomfortable
To be clear, Clark is still a fantastic investigative reporter. He still has to track down the sources to prove all this shit
"Who, Clark Kent? Yeah, we're pretty sure he's a Meta. Is he a superhero? Like what, "Lead-detector guy"? "Captain pipes?" Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy and it's a handy trick, but it's lead detection, not laser vision. He's not about to go running around in tights any time soon."
I just love the idea of a cape maintaining their secret identity by pretending to be a completely different and less impressive kind of parahuman.
everyone assumes that kent is so squirrely around superheros because heâs just desperately hoping not to be conscripted to the JLA to fix their plumbing
Local Metropolis Reporter Publically Recognized For Contributions To The City; Awarded Medal Of Distinction
They tried to get superman to present the medal but he was offended at being called "overrated" in comparison to Clark so he declined
Counter offer: Bruce Wayne disguised as Superman
beating this dead horse with memes
Hey this was a real fun little read. It's so great to find these treasures on this site
Weâre happy to have you!
I cannot get this poem out of my head. It haunts me. Joyously, it haunts me.Â
This poem format is my favorite thing and this is the first time Iâve ever seen itâs origin story. I love it. Every time.
Joy and whimsy detected! This bread-licking cow is joyful and whimsical!
Iâm paying to force seven thousand strangers to see a photo of my late husband having fun with his dog. Tumblr Blaze is totally worth it. XD
Thank-you to all of my new Internet stranger friends for being so gracious about having my post shoved onto your dashboards. I loved reading all of your kind tags and comments! Both Martin and Bosco have been gone for several years now but for 24 hours, they felt very present in my life. I greatly appreciate this gift. â¤ď¸
Reblog to have your dashboard be visited by the spirit of joy that death can end but not erase.
Love that this is well beyond 7000 people now and still going
@leavescrown Exactly! Itâs a beautiful gift. Martin and Bosco out there travelling around the Tumblr community, continually making new friends.
@sseanettles
#hello again martin and bosco!! sending you boys round for another go :)
Reading your tag made me laugh out loud. Itâs like two old friends unexpectedly stopped by your porch for a quick visit. XD
Iâll always reblog Martin and Bosco when they splash across my dash, because of Reasons.
Whatâs loved, lives.
Back at you Peter
Cream of Paradise
Like many people it is incredibly rare for me to remember anything about my dreams. I wake up, and poof, they're gone. But this one stuck with me, and you all get to benefit from that.
I don't remember much about the dream in question. I only remember a little bit of it, right toward the end, right before I woke up (which might be why I remember any of it at all): I was being served a dessert, one which the dream told me was called "Cream of Paradise"; the dream said that this dessert was popular in the American North-East in the very late 1800's. It was a drinkable dessert, served in a chilled wine glass, a bit thicker than eggnog, but thinner than a pudding. I remember seeing a large pot on an old-timey stove, and seeing spices floating in it to season. And when I woke up, I of course decided to look up if "Cream of Paradise" was a real thing.
It was not.
Which, of course, meant that I would need to invent it.
Which meant a lot of reading and research on old-timey desserts, and a lot of hunting down a few less-than-common ingredients, things that would have been more commonly used and well-known in the time period my brain said that this was from, but which have fallen out of favor in modern times. And after several weeks of tinkering, I present to you, Cream of Paradise:
I had a similar sort of experience a number of years ago--except when I looked up the dessert I dreamed about (Jerusalem cake), it was real, even though I'd never heard of it before and was pretty sure it must have been an invention of my sleep-addled brain.
A few extra details, because the dream struck me so hard I actually wrote down the bits I remembered:
it was my birthday party, being held in a giant terraced garden
there were tigers that would eat you if you tried to retrace your steps, but were perfectly friendly as long as you stayed still or continued advancing
the Jerusalem cake of my dream was made with candied orange peel; I don't remember there being any nuts, but otherwise it was a semi-plausible fit with the real thing
I tried so hard to get back into the dream after I woke up but just couldn't go back to sleep again. It was a wonderful garden, there were tables full of glassware and fancy china, everyone was dressed to the nines, and I resented waking up, despite the potential threat of tigers.
I think I might have to have a "dream party" for my birthday this summer, with candied orange peel Jerusalem Cake and Cream of Paradise--they seem like they'd actually go together pretty well.
Thanks for sharing the fruit of your dream-inspired labors, @mornington-the-crescent!
last week I was deep in the trenches ploughing through work and mid-afternoon realised I'd neglected to open the blinds and the room was a little dim, so I got up to do that and discovered that a car had flipped onto its roof directly outside my flat and the entire street was closed and flooded with emergency service while they dragged someone out of the vehicle and packed them into an ambulance. so now every time I open the blinds I'm a little like the dog with the ham sandwich bush. what the fuck could it be today.
Penciled/Partridge
Penciling is a pattern of two to four black lines following the contour of the feathers on either a gold or silver (white) base. The dark brahma variety is silver penciled. In most breeds, gold penciled is called partridge. Adding blue or lavender dilution genes dilutes the black to a shade of grey. Dilution of gold in addition to the lavender gene results in a color commonly referred to as Isabel/Isabella