hunk of parmesan: i'm getting so small! 😁 keep going! i wonder if i can get even smaller 😯
microplane, getting more and more delirious with lust as my knuckles get closer to it: he's ruight
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@thecosmonautical
hunk of parmesan: i'm getting so small! 😁 keep going! i wonder if i can get even smaller 😯
microplane, getting more and more delirious with lust as my knuckles get closer to it: he's ruight
Sorry to post shit I found on reddit but this video has been on my mind for like 3 weeks now
A lot of the satellite footage of Gaza and Lebanon that you see in the media looks like this
And while that is obviously horrifying to me, I think people ho are still in deep denial can sort of pretend to themselves that there must have been a very big battle there, or a massive fire, or one really big bomb. The 'oh we were fighting Hamas/Hezbollah' bullshit can somehow be wielded to stay in that deep denial.
So I think they should be showing more shit like this:
Like, this makes it pretty clear that it's every house. Systematically. Can you convince yourself that Hezbollah was in EVERY house? For real? Or is it time to start facing that the IDF is deliberately going from house to house destroying a civilization?
lil’ kim, as joan of arc, styled by marc jacobs for flaunt magazine (circa 2005).
dad finds out about the big news….
do not keep putting those two unfunny autistic faggots on my dash
It's perfectly natural for autists to like trains because trains are like our older brothers, to whom we can look up. Trains are big and strong creatures; unstoppable and proud, but they are elegant and logical. Not human but like humanity they are higher than beasts. The train is like a stoic sword hero who does what must be done and whose will must be respected, for his course cannot be altered. A train is an adult man with asperger's who has a job. And he's faster than everybody. I could be like him some day.
(having a good week) that’s right. the goal is to increase my baseline. make the spirals shallower until they spin lazily on the surface of the water, lose their suction. im not trying to fix it all at once, im trying to incrementally improve my way into something tolerable. and once im there maybe i can shoot for good
(having a bad week) and in my terrible forge i will temper the flames of ruin
when me and sis lowkenuinely dont even give a fuck anymore and we're just on our own shit you know like stacking paper and stacking cheddar and shit you know and getting women in short sleeve polo shirts to feed us pellets you know that good nutrition pellets you know
Kibble is poison. Watch pet fooled
I finished reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time in my life. With all of *vague gesture at everything* this going on.
I Am Not Okay
You have to understand. I watched the movies maybe once as a kid when they came out twenty years ago. I've somehow avoided learning like anything about these books my entire life. Literally everything about these books was a complete unknown and surprise to me. Totally blank slate going on. I barely even knew how it ended.
Holy shit.
Frodo didn't complete his task. Sam literally carried him up Mount Doom. And when he got to the end, he couldn't throw the Ring away.
But for Gollum biting it off with his finger, it wouldn't have been destroyed.
So Frodo's journey saved the world nonetheless.
And it broke him.
It was too much for him to bear. He could no longer live in the Shire or live in Middle-Earth. He wasn't of the world anymore. He had to go to the Undying Lands.
He took on the task that no one else would. He saved the world. Everyone got a happy ending. Aragorn became King, Sam rebuilt the Shire, Merry and Pippin became heroes. They all lived in renown.
But Frodo had the hardest task of all. No one else would do it. A simple hobbit who came by the Ring by chance. Not a King, not an immortal. Not a wizard. No power save his will and his friends. And he did it and saved everyone.
And he never got to rest. He never got to remain in peace. The task destroyed him. It was too much.
But there was no other way. Nobody but a simple hobbit could bear the ring all the way to Mount Doom and resist its power so long. Not a man, not an elf, not a wizard; they would have succumbed. Gandalf knew this, which was why he chose the hobbits in all his designs.
It's amazing that one of the precedent setting works in the fantasy genre holds up so well because it subverts what ultimately became the genre's core tropes. The hero was not the King, or a chosen one. In fact, the hero not being the King was a key point that allowed Aragorn to distract Sauron and allow the task in the first place. The hero was someone unassuming but courageous, who did the thing because no one else would, even though it was just by chance he came upon it.
But Frodo couldn't resist the Ring completely. He wasn't superior to anyone else in that way. And in the end it left him broken. The burden crushed him. No one else could do it, and in the end, he couldn't either. He wasn't so special that he was invulnerable.
I'm not okay. Holy fuck you guys.
It's been a week and I'm still not over this, I'll never get over this.
Something that I've been thinking about, as I struggle with depression and anxiety and *another vague gesture at everything* is that LOTR does not criticize Frodo for being broken. It does not shame him or deny him what he needs.
The task was too much and it broke him and that's okay. His friends nonetheless take care of him and let him go with understanding. The book doesn't treat it as a bad thing.
This seems to be a theme throughout the books. The characters rest and heal. They spend time recovering in Rivendell, Fangorn, Lorien, Ithilien. It's treated as good and necessary. They don't heroically endure endless torment from the second they set out until they're done.
And in Gondor's march from Minas Tirith to Mordor, Aragorn recognizes that some of the very few men he's taking with him don't have the heart to go to battle against the Enemy. And he says that's okay. He gives them other tasks the they can do. They hold other strategic points. They aren't shamed for not going all the way, or kicked out, or told that they aren't manly or whatever. Their limitations are recognized and respected. The task was too big and it was okay that they couldn't do it.
I don't know man. I've held on through some absolutely crazy shit. White knuckled through mental health crises when my doctors were begging me to take a break, to go to the hospital before I hurt myself. My therapist has tried to slow me down and tell me that I've been going through it and it's understandable that I am feeling some kind of way. Even one of my colleagues remarked that I've had an absolutely fucking wild career and that I've seen more as a lawyer of seven years than she has as a lawyer of forty. But I've gotten it into my head that I have to be strong, I have to be independent.
Fuck me, man, I'm currently white knuckling through life and hanging on by a fucking thread. A few weeks ago I was about an hour away from checking myself in to a mental health facility until my best friends swooped in to help me. And then I went right back to work.
And then I read this book. This fucking brilliant and beautiful book written by a man who had seen the horrors of war and spilled it all over the page. And I read it for the first time as an adult with full understanding and experience of what it all means. And it hits me like a fucking truck.
And it says that you can't endure everything. That at some point you need to rest and heal. That if you take on too much you will break. And that all of that is okay.
How am I supposed to move on with my life after reading this?
Certainly there are many messages within Lord of the Rings, but you have to think that Tolkien would have been happy that this message in particular was still being conveyed all these years later.
There's this notion that being able to stream professional theater shows will hurt the industry, because people won't go to the effort to support live theater anymore, and this is based on the anxieties of the film industry, but live theater isn't a film. The better analogy is sports.
Look me dead in the eye and tell me that people being able to sit at home and watch The Game -- the fandom that encourages, the ongoing investment over the years, the memories and traditions of Watching the Game with family and friends -- harms the ticket sales of real live go-to-the-stadium sports. Of course it doesn't. Of course all that *is the reason* that people care so much about sports they'll invest a small fortune on not only tickets but often travel costs to be part of it all in person. And the people who aren't doing that *can't* do that and weren't going to regardless, but their at-home participation and investment still boosts the profile of pro and NCAA sports as cultural institutions.
Maybe it's possible to fall in love with film and be immune to the romance of Going to the Cinema such that you'll just freely choose the same film in the comfort of your living room. It's not possible to fall in love with something that happens live and not want to be there to experience it. The consequences of procasts, for theater just like for sports, can only be A) more people motivated to make live theater part of their worlds, aka more money, when theaters everywhere could desperately use more money, or B) more love. Which is worth arguing for because reasons I assume I don't have to defend.
these are my predictions for how the right wing will evolve in 2014
gonna resurrect this one last time just so everyone knows that i predicted gamergate
GLaDOS voice: "Would you like to see some artwork I generated? I've heard from other test subjects that AI-generated artwork produces an uncanny valley response in human viewers because they can't perceive it as fully real. They've told me that it looks absolutely hideous to them, that they can't imagine anything more disgusting than AI art. But, well I've been practicing and wanted your honest opinion. Feel free to let me know how ugly you find this by ranking it on a scale from 'vomit-inducing' to 'eye-bleeding'." A robotic arm lowers from the ceiling holding a hand mirror up to Chell's face