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@treklam
793.85
card tricks
what's the dewey decimal number for foreskin. coward
611.642
the prepuce (aka foreskin)
is a simple "please" too much to ask?
prostrating myself at your feet for my lack of composure thank you for your wisdom
179.92
forgiveness
one of my coworkers has this sticker on his water bottle and it sends me into hysterics every time i see it
inventing some new EVIL tone tags
/pr = pressuring you
/m = mad at you
/f = forcing you to do this at gunpoint
/nj = not joking i want to kill you for real
mon cher.
girl it’s just a 3 day trip, you do not need to bring your terracotta warriors 🙄
The hoax took place in Florence in about 1409... The victim was a carpenter named Manetto, known as Il Grasso, "the Fat Man." Manetto specialized in carving ebony and owned a shop in the Piazza San Giovanni, not far from Filippo [Brunelleschi]'s house. He was prosperous and good-natured, but one day had the misfortune of incurring Filippo's ire after missing a social gathering. Never one to resist retaliation, Filippo resolved to exact his revenge for this perceived slight by persuading a wide cast of characters to convince Manetto that he had metamorphosed into someone else.... As Manetto closed his shop one evening, Filippo went to his house near the cathedral, picked the lock, slipped inside, and barred the door behind him. When Manetto arrived a few minutes later, he rattled the door and then, to his alarm, heard what sounded like his own voice (in fact, Filippo doing an impersonation) ordering him to go away. This impersonation was so convincing that eh retreated in bewilderment into the Piazza San Giovanni. There he met Donatello, who inexplicably addressed him as Matteo, and shortly afterward a bailiff, who likewise hailed him as Matteo and then promptly arrested him for debt. He was taken to the Stinche prison, where his name was entered in the jail book as Matteo. Even his fellow prisoners--all of them party to Filippo's prank--addressed him by this alien name. The carpenter spent a sleepless night, fretting over events but solacing himself with the thought that he was merely a victim of mistaken identity. This comfort evaporated the next morning when two strangers--the brothers of the real Matteo--arrived at the prison and claimed him as their kin. They paid his debt and liberated him, though not before chastising him for his supposed gambling and profligate living. More bewildered now than ever, he was escorted to Matteo's home on the other side of Florence, near Santa Felìcita, where his protests that he was not Matteo, but Manetto, appeared to fall on deaf ears.... He was then put to sleep with a potion supplied by Filippo and carried, unconscious, back across the river to his own home. He was laid on his bed in a reversed position, with his head at the foot and his feet at the head. Awakening many hours later, the poor carpenter was confused not merely by his position on the bed but also by the disarray of his house, for his tools had been completely rearranged. His perplexity grew with the arrival of Matteo's brothers... greeting him as Manetto and relating the curious story of how the previous evening their brother Matteo conceived the fantastic notion that he was someone else. The story was soon confirmed by Matteo himself--the real one--who arrived at Manetto's house to describe his puzzling dream of having been a carpenter. The disarray of the house was explained by the fact that in his dream Matteo noticed how his tools were out of order and in need of rearrangement.
Source: Brunelleschi's Dome, Ross King
What the hell was going on in 15th-century Florence. You miss a party and get elaborately mindfucked by a pissed-off goldsmith and his buddy Donatello. Manetto ended up moving to Hungary over this and who can blame him
One of the best stories humanity ever produced was a draft of a rewrite of the Epic of Gilgamesh written by a Ecuadorian poet in 1935. It was tossed into a fireplace by an angry boy and lost forever. Another of humanity's best was told 65,000 years ago and was overheard by a small tribe of embarked Neanderthals boating down a river in what is now northern Georgia. A short woman at the bank scrubbed a wooden idol in the water and sang an ancient tale in an unknown language. These two are eclipsed by everything produced by two brothers at the coast of what is now Cameroon between 503 BC and 490 BC, which they shared with some family and friends, and were beloved by everyone except a sour uncle.
soju meme collection
me tongue-deep in a sandalwood candle: 🤤
the tjmaxx employee loading a fourth tranquilizer dart into their blowgun: i need backup
Maybe lean out
I mean, in some very interesting Technically Correct ways, they didn't actually die? Now, they're very much no longer alive. But the forces involved are such that they didn't get any of the usual cellular processes of death, they simply went from biology to physics in less time than it takes a signal to travel down your optic nerve.
if you go from biology to physics without dying first you don’t go to heaven the uber driver went over this already
Something something qifrey stands like a mum
ladies, if she
likes caviar and cigarettes
is well versed in etiquette
is extraordinarily nice
shes not your girl. shes a killer queen, gunpowder, gelatine, dynamite with a laser bean, guaranteed to blow your mind
Now does he feel his title/ Hang loose about him, like a giant’s robe/ Upon a dwarfish thief
"Evening on River Angara", linocut by Pyotr Baranov (1979)