please god let chatgpt die out like nfts did. With a fast and graceless fall into irrelevancy
Like to charge, reblog to cast.
This spell has a very low hit ratio, so we need a lot of us to do it.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

roma★

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@turdferguson34
please god let chatgpt die out like nfts did. With a fast and graceless fall into irrelevancy
Like to charge, reblog to cast.
This spell has a very low hit ratio, so we need a lot of us to do it.
Male writers writing female characters:
“Cassandra woke up to the rays of the sun streaming through the slats on her blinds, cascading over her naked chest. She stretched, her breasts lifting with her arms as she greeted the sun. She rolled out of bed and put on a shirt, her nipples prominently showing through the thin fabric. She breasted boobily to the stairs, and titted downwards.”
‘ She breasted boobily to the stairs, and titted downwards’ is the greatest fucking sentence I have ever read.
THE ORIGINAL??
(smh) Never thought I’d see it in the wild. Yet here it is. :)
they killed him for this
this might piss some people off but I don’t think some of you actually ever tried to unlearn your hatefulness. you just came out as queer and decided your new targets really truly deserve it this time.
you. you get it.
I've seen a fair amount of fat liberation activists explain that they have always been fat, they're not about to stop, and that's natural and beautiful and fine. That's an incredibly important message.
What I've seen less - and what I want to remind people of - is this: if you've become fat, that's also natural and beautiful and fine.
When you're a fat person who has been thin in the past, that comes with its own brand of shaming. People take your history of thinness as proof that you don't have to be fat. You often fear the look of disappointed surprise in the eyes of someone you haven't met since you were thin. People try to determine "what happened". They don't see your fat body as just you, but as a sort of symptom that isn't part of you.
Becoming fat is not a tragedy, it's not a sign of failure, it's not a bad or shameful thing. The thin you is not the Real you. You are always real and always worthy of freedom, respect and peace. You are allowed to be fat no matter how or when you became fat.
This is the only tiktok where the automated voice actually adds to the cinematic experience
freedom
This is absolutely what a cats internal monologue is like <3
Actually Ive decided to be angry now
“scientists don’t want you know” is a phrase that always cracks me up because if you actually meet a scientist they will be shaking and crying like an overstimulated chihuahua with the need to let you know
fire was invented by the grain industry
Big Bread
“I got freaks NINE days out of the week — I CAN GET MORE.”
“….—only seven days in a week.”
…
“MAN YOU AINT BIG PAPa— IM THE BIG BAD BOOTY DADDY EEEeehnNNONSTOP BHLUH——“
She played bass on 10,000 songs, including the most-played track of the twentieth century. She was paid $55 per session. Her name never appeared on the albums.
Gold Star Studios, Los Angeles, 1964. A woman in a cardigan walks past the receptionist, a Fender Precision bass in her hand like a briefcase. She doesn’t sign autographs. She signs a timesheet.
Her name is Carol Kaye. In three hours, she will record what will become the most-played track of the twentieth century. She’ll pocket fifty-five dollars and head to another studio, on the other side of town, for the next session.
The record label will never put her name on the album.
Between 1957 and 1973, Carol Kaye took part in roughly 10,000 recording sessions. Not as the featured artist, not as a guest, but as a hired hand. She was part of an anonymous collective nicknamed The Wrecking Crew—elite studio musicians who actually played the instruments on your favorite records while the famous bands posed for promotional photos.
The work was relentless. Three albums before the day was over. Stale coffee in paper cups. No rehearsal. The charts arrived minutes before the tape rolled. If you couldn’t read a chart and nail the take in two tries, you didn’t get called for the next session.
Carol could do it on the first try.
She started playing guitar in grimy bars at fourteen because her family couldn’t pay the electric bill. Music wasn’t a romantic dream for her. It was survival. It was a job—factory work with better acoustics and lower pay.
But she was faster and sharper than almost everyone else. She corrected charts in pencil while the producer was still explaining what he wanted. In one session in 1968, she told a famous producer his arrangement sounded like a dying dog. She chose her own line. They kept her version.
That descending bass line that drives the Beach Boys’ “Wouldn’t It Be Nice”? Carol Kaye. The propulsive groove of “These Boots Are Made for Walkin’”? Carol Kaye. The acoustic-guitar intro to “La Bamba”? Carol Kaye. The iconic theme from Mission: Impossible? Carol Kaye.
She invented techniques on the spot, out of sheer necessity. When the bass sound was too muddy for AM radio, she stuck felt under the strings and used a hard pick instead of her fingers. The tone cut through the static like a blade. It became the sonic signature that defined 1960s pop.
Bassists spent years—decades—trying to crack the secret of the Beach Boys’ gear to get that sound. They were studying the wrong people. They should have been studying Carol.
She received no royalties. No residuals. No gold-record ceremony. No credit on the album sleeves. When “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin’” hit number one, Carol was already back in a studio cutting a soap jingle.
The biggest bands mimed her bass lines on TV variety shows. New York marketing departments decided a mom in classic clothes didn’t fit the rebellious-youth image they were selling. So they simply left her name off the album credits.
For thirty years, almost no one cared. The truth only began to surface in the late 1990s, when music researchers found the same union contract numbers on thousands of hit records. The very documents meant to preserve studio musicians’ anonymity betrayed them.
Think about it. Every time you heard “Good Vibrations,” “River Deep – Mountain High,” the Righteous Brothers, Nancy Sinatra, or Sonny and Cher, you were hearing Carol Kaye. She composed the soundtrack of an entire generation’s youth.
And yet the records still say nothing. She’s now over eighty. She wrote instructional books. She trained countless bassists. She is finally starting to be recognized by music historians who uncovered the truth about The Wrecking Crew.
But she never got what she deserved: her name on those albums. Credit for the music that defined an era. Recognition that those bass lines everyone associates with the “Beach Boys” were, in fact, Carol Kaye’s.
Fifty-five dollars a session. Ten thousand sessions. The most-played track of the twentieth century.
And the world didn’t know her name.
she's the best of us
APS Archives
What are the stars made of? At 25, Cecilia Payne answered this fundamental question in her Ph.D. thesis.
Amazing.
auto suggest bewilders me
No worries! I'm out walking
THE corpse
🚶🏻♀️🚶🏻♂️