Calligraphy and Typography vs Parenthood

My balance/war with art and kids

[sachinmshah]

At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet - Plato. Simple italic . . . #calligrafia #handmade #handmadefont #handlettering #typespire #calligraphy #calligraphymasters #typography #goodtype #strengthinletters #artoftype #thedailytype #typematters #typegang #typographyinspired #lettering #script #sachinspiration #designspiration https://www.instagram.com/p/CCQ68MnJQWT/?igshid=1pu4dgmxvwrz7

[akwartone]

Day 22 “Done is better than perfect” The last one 😀 #calligraphymasters #callivembercontinues #callivember #quarantinechallenge (w: Chrzanów, Katowice, Poland) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_ck2xLHu05/?igshid=1hsbemydimyh4

[feywildwest]

so after sam “I stealthed so hard I’m playing with the McElroys right now” riegel’s obscene roll of 38, I decided to figure out what the absolute max stealth roll a person could roll in a non-homebrewed game of Dungeons and Dragons 5e is

let’s get the basics out of the way- i’m assuming this is a level 20 rogue, no multiclassing because i don’t want to give myself that much of a headache, who rolls a 20 on the die. They’ve maxed their Dex to 20 at this point, so this gives them a 25. any self-respecting rogue is not only proficient in stealth, but has expertise in it, so they can add double their proficiency bonus (+6 at this level) to the roll- bringing us to a total of 37.

we’ll assume this is a well-read thief; a Manual of Quickness of Action increases  Dex scores by 2/modifiers by 1, so we’ll retroactively add 1 up there. 38. Ioun takes kindly to well-read adventurers; we’ll say she’s gifted them with an Ioun Stone of Mastery, which grants +1 to proficiency bonuses with the added bonus of having a rad fucking rock hovering around their head. Our thief adds 2, because of expertise. 40. Stone of good luck in their pocket adds +1 to ability checks. 41. they’ve also got the Stealthy feat, which lets them add their proficiency bonus to stealth checks again. Another 6 plus the Ioun Stone’s 1 brings us to 48.

Finally, this rogue wouldn’t have gotten far without a druid or ranger in the party, who might have been so kind as to cast Pass Without Trace. Add another 10. 58. Fifty-Eight.

I’m sure I’m missing stuff somewhere that would make this even higher, but if I asked for Stealth checks and someone at the table called off 58 I think I’d be legally allowed to shoot them on the spot.

[half-giant-fighter]

If they’re a mark of Shadow elf from Wayfinders guide to eberron with the greater dragonmark feat they can add a d6 to that for a possible 64 and a level 20 bard gives a d12 inspiration for a 76

[disasterhumans]

And if another party member had the Guidance cantrip hhe rogue can add another d4 for a max of 80

[typi-graphi-caldad]

DM: "OK so it seems as though you've entered another phase of matter and existence which allows you to walk through solid matter at will. Because you have shifted to another plane of existence, you're essentially invisible to all but the highest of gods that preside over multiple planes. You could literally walk up to the devil and kick him in the nuts and he'd never see it coming."

[sachinmshah]

What tools do you use? . . . #calligrafia #handmade #handmadefont #handlettering #typespire #calligraphy #calligraphymasters #typography #goodtype #strengthinletters #artoftype #thedailytype #typematters #typegang #typographyinspired #lettering #script #sachinspiration #designspiration https://www.instagram.com/sachinspiration/p/BwhMMDznXtN/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1scmsfqb1qaiy

[typi-graphi-caldad]

You know, as a calligrapher and illuminator, I needed to be reminded of this.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The 1969 Easter Mass Incident

Content Warnings: Religion, food, symbolic cannibalism, symbolic gore, penis mention, Blasphemy, SO MUCH BLASPHEMY, weapons, war mention.  Mind the warnings and your health always comes first. Its a HILARIOUS story, I promise.

As always, all the names have been changed to protect people’s identities.  This is a long one, so Press J now if you want to skip it.

When my dad was a young man and still a practicing catholic, he participated in a small church communion that nearly got him and six other people excommunicated.

Father Patrick ran a small church outside of California Polytechnical and tended to be… rather more liberal in his interpretations of scripture than most of the church was, which made him something of a hit with the local students and liberally-inclined populace.  Pat went to all manner of civil demonstrations, condemned the shit out of the vietnam war and the politics that lead to it and so on.  In January of 1969 a series of incidents lead him to start exploring “nontraditional” means of holding Mass as a means of reaching out to his community and exploring his own faith, which ultimately culminated in the 1969 Easter Mass Incident.

For those of you who weren’t raised catholic, Communion is this ritual where you become one with Jesus by eating a really horrible bland wafer cookie and taking a shot of wine (called hosts), which then *literally* become the flesh and blood of jesus in your mouth, allowing him to become one with you.  It’s big McFucking deal, and you have the opportunity to take communion at every mass.  All this had to be explained to me second-hand because after this and Dad’s 51 days in the army, Dad decided he wouldn’t inflict religion on any children he might have in the future.

*

“Hey dad,” Six-year old me asked the first time he told me this story after my practicing friends were talking about getting wine at church. “Isn’t that cannibalism?”

“We’re getting to that.”  He waved.

*

The First Incident in January when, due to a serious cock-up by the church, all the hosts Father Pat received were moldering and spoiled and probably would have killed someone if he’d actually fed anyone them.  But it was the first mass of the year, when a peak number of people came in after vowing to got to church more for new year’s.  He couldn’t NOT have communion.

“I’ll bake.” offered Maria, the parish secretary and probably the best baker in the county. “So we have hosts.  Jesus will understand.”

Father Patrick, not one to pass up the chance at Maria’s cooking, immediately agreed.

A Host is supposed to be composed solely of unleavened wheat flour and water, which is why they taste terrible.  It’s a theological point of some importance relating to Exodus or something but Maria had an important theological counterpoint: Jesus both divine and loves all his children, ergo, Jesus would neither be a nasty bland cracker nor want his children to suffer as such and so instead, she made Mexican wedding cookies.

They were a SPECTACULAR hit.  Many praises were heaped upon father patrick for the Much Better Wafers and that they’d be sure to show up next week as long as Maria kept making them.  Father Patrick figuring that hey, anything that gets people in the doors is good and really, if it was turning into Jesus once inside the parishioner, did it really matter what the wafers were made of?  So he continued to let Maria bake the Hosts, and encouraged her to try out new flavors, like nutmeg and cinnamon.

This went on swimmingly for a few weeks until The Bishop showed up for a surprise visit the same week Maria decided to experiment with rainbow sprinkles.

Dad remembers hearing the bishop through the windows roaring “THE HOLY BODY OF CHRIST DOES! NOT! CONTAIN! RAINBOW! SPRINKLES!”

The matter went clean up to The Archbishop, who decided that while Pat was probably right to not feed spoiled hosts to his parish, he should attend some remedial classes to remember what Communion was all about, so that if it happened again, he’s come up with a more suitable substitute.

Father Patrick returned in late March, full of spite and some fascinating new ideas.

*

“Is this where the Cannibalism happens?” Six-year-old me asked, eager to get to the good parts.

*

At his remedial classes, the teacher had stressed the importance of transubstantiation, aka “That bit where the wafer and wine, Actually, Literally, become the flesh of Jesus Christ and we expect you to swallow.”  Also on the syllabus was understanding the importance of Christ’s suffering and sacrifice.

“So, I was thinking about Easter Service.”  Said father Patrick one afternoon while dad was doing his computer science homework at the church because his dorm was a barely-standing fire hazard and the library was where you went to have sex.

“Well, we do re-enactments for christmas.  Why not on easter?  Why not re-enact the crucifixion of Christ right here? Make it real for everyone.  Trauma’s great for bonding a community together.”

“Who’s playing Jesus?” asked Maria, always one for a good laugh.

“That’s the thing- A Host, it doesn’t look much like flesh, right?  Doesn’t look like much of anything, really.  Not great for reinforcing one’s belief.

What if, instead, we- and I mean you, Maria, I can’t cook to save my life- make a man-sized loaf of bread, maybe in the shape of a T, and we have some of the boys dress up as romans and whip the bread and we pour the wine on so it’s bleeding and them- then we make a big wooden cross and actually nail the bread to it with, I don’t know, railroad spikes, more wine all over. And we raise the cross, all while telling the story of the crucifixion.”

He paused to take a drink, Maria slowly crumpling onto the floor in horrified laughter and Dad now thoroughly distracted from his homework.

“Then we lower the cross, and invite everyone who wants to take communion up to tear a hunk of Jesus off.  Just descend into his corpse like vultures.  I think that’d really be a good bonding experience for the church.”  he nodded thoughtfully.  “The hard, part, I suppose, will be finding enough romans.”

“I WANNA BE LONGINUS.” bellowed my father, barreling into the room.

And so, the plan was hatched.  Dad hit up every other guy in the Church and eventually rounded up four more romans, three of them from the Education Department of Cal Poly, and one guy from Chemistry, who just liked to watch things burn.

This, being a play, naturally meant that there was a rehearsal, and test Bread jesus.  Maria had decided that if they were going to start being extra-literal, she needed to make the most lifelike Bread jesus possible, and made a distressingly buff and human-proportioned Jesus by Advanced bread-braiding, complete with plaited hair, quail’s-egg-and-raisin eyes, bready muscle groups, and an eight-pack because why not make the lord completely shredded?*  She also made the important theological decision that since Jesus loves everyone and was happy to die in spite of all his suffering, he should be smiling, and had a toothy corn-kernel smile.  He was Wonderful and Terrifying all at once.

“Maria,” asked Father Patrick after a few minutes of delighted and horrified cooing over Jesus’ toothy grin and abdominals. “Why is he wearing a tea-towel?

“Well, he’s the Son of God. A Man.  With all that entails.”  She said, pointedly staring at Father Patrick while everyone stared at the suspiciously lumpy tea-towel.  “And he might have… burnt, slightly.”

Everyone nodded and agreed that the tea-towel was the best course of action.  The rehearsal goes splendidly and everyone agrees that this is the most delicious Jesus they’ve ever had.

*

Easter Sunday arrives and the Church is PACKED, from the more lapsed Catholics showing up for a high holiday, parents visiting for spring break and a whole horde of newcomers who had gotten wind that something was up and they ought to come.

Dad is a lanky as hell 21-year old composed mostly of technical jargon and acne but he is STOKED to be playing Longinus, the roman that speared Jesus on the cross, because he gets to do the BEST technical effect in the whole parade.  Since he came in at the end me missed a good portion of the sermon, but did hear the “oooh” from the crowd as the massive cross was dragged in by the other Romans, followed by horrified gasps and high screams and a discernible “What the FUCK” as they brought in Bread Jesus 2.0, whipping him enthusiastically, and hammering him into the cross, the sound of wine splashing onto the floor loud in the terrified silence of that Parishioners.

Finally Father Patrick gets to the part about Longinus, and Dad comes sprinting down the aisle as hard as he can, because in order for Bread Jesus to be seen by everyone, his middle had to be about 10 feet off the ground, so Dad had to run, shrieking latin curses,  down the length of the church, with a big honking spear and take a flying leap at Jesus in order to spear him in the gut.

Please take moment to imagine you are some normal god-fearing catholic who has decided to visit little bobby or maybe patricia at college and you’re all going to church together like a nice family and this Fucking madman has decided to go all Silence of the Lambs on mass and now there’s some sort of underfed translucently pale man in ill-fitting Roman armor and cape flying at a horrifying glutinous effigy of your lord and savior, with an actual fucking spear, screaming like a madman.  Don’t you feel yourself drawing closer to God already? Defensively, perhaps, like an octopus trying to ooze itself into a crevice against the horrors of the ocean.

However, two things happen that were not planned on

1. Dad misses.  In his defense, Bread Jesus is close to but not quite the size of a man- more like the size of a doughy teenager, and his middle is a small target 10 feet up in the air and dad is has a computer science minor, not an athletics scholarship.  He misses by about 8 inches and instead very solidly stabs Bread Jesus right through the groin, leaving a big hole in Maria’s tea-towel and the spear jutting out at a decidedly… attentive angle, as Bread Jesus’s Bread Dick drops to the floor with a splat.  Nobody notices this, however because

2. In rehearsal, Dad had managed to get the spear right in jesus’s navel but neither Father Patrick nor the other romans could get the wine up there to make his middle appropriately bloodied.  

Maria come up with the Genius solution that since wine is made of grapes and Jam is made of grapes, she could make a jelly-filled Jesus for Dad to stab.  There was a normal-sized test loaf and when dad stabbed it on the table, it had a nicely gooey dribbling effect.

However, this time the loaf was torso-sized, still hot from the oven and upright, so when dad speared the very end of the loaf, all the steam-pressured jam had collected at the bottom and a spray of lukewarm smuckers exploded out from bread jesus, turning the first three pews into a splash zone of symbolic entrails.

There was  a hot, sticky minute of complete silence in the church after that. 

Then, Father Patrick indicated it was time for the cross to be lowered, and continued on with the normal preparations of the Host, he himself covered in hot smuckers, as though nothing particularly ordinary was occuring, quietly kicking the bread-dick under the altar. At the end of it all, Father Patrick and invited everyone up with the Last Oration:

“Thou, O God, has kindly allowed us to have a part in this Holy Sacrifice; for this we give Thee thanks. Accept it now to Thy glory and be ever mindful of our weakness. Amen.”

…And everybody came up, shuffling like terrified zombies, pinching off tiny bits at first but then the madness took them and they began tearing apart bread jesus by the handful, weeping as they partook, scattered prayers and begging for forgiveness.  The whole congregation was kneeling about the altar, tearful and united in their guilt and their need for God.

*

“IS CHURCH ALWAYS LIKE THAT?” six-year-old me asked, absolutely stoked.  I’d convert on the spot if I got a show like that.

“No, it’s normally bland wafers and lots of chanting in latin.”

“Well that’s boring as hell.” I remember muttering and Dad snorting the coffee he was drinking out of his nose.

*

As people filed silently out of the Church to a gloriously sunny California afternoon, faces wan and smeared with wine and jam, Father patrick turned to Maria and asked “You don’t think that was too much, do you?”

“No.”  Said Maria with a sarcastic deadpan so intense it was hard to tell from sincerity.

It was the exact same tone she used when the Archbishop and Six other high clergy showed up, clutching a letter someone had written, Livid and almost foaming at the mouth, demanding to know if such blasphemy had transpired.

“No.  That’s crazy.”  She said, staring down the archbishop like he was an idiot.

“Such imaginations some people have!” Said Father Patrick, much less convincingly.

“And you-  you didn’t…  Spear an effigy of our lord and savior?”  the archbishop demanded of my father.

“Do I look like I can jump that high?”  Dad asked, having in the interim been drafted for 51 days then nearly died of pneumonia from it, and therefore no longer afraid of the Church, the Law or God.

Somewhat relieved that he’d only received the extremely detailed ramblings of a doddering parishioner, the Archbishop sat down and complemented Maria on her most excellent Mexican Wedding Cookies, may he please have another plate for his nerves? Perhaps the ones with sprinkles?

Dad went on to help build the internet, Father Patrick converted to Buddhism and Maria became a Nun.

*For those of you wondering, Jesus was made of Challah.

If you got a laugh out of this, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Paypal, as telling stories on the internet is my only source of income right now.  Thank you very much and I hope you enjoyed it!

[gallusrostromegalus]

Well, it’s Easter Weekend Again, so please enjoy one of the weirdest goddamn things to ever happen to my family.  Some Bonus Content:

Last Year’s attempt to bake a Baby Bread Jesus

If you want to have a book of all the crazy family stories, pre-orders are open on my Patreon Right Now

There will also be a special Bread-Jesus-Themed Art Event available to all patrons on Sunday 4/21/19 

I still rely on donations/patrons to support myself so thank you all so, so much for all your support!

[typi-graphi-caldad]

This is how religion is done right!

[whatevercomestomymind]

Fine. Tumblr is being a little bitch today when it comes to pasting vimeo videos to reblogs for some stupid reason.

This is in response to: https://whatevercomestomymind.tumblr.com/post/184263854561/chasers17-theamazingdigitalart-amazing-takes

Tell me what you think!

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Cross posting to my calligraphy/ illumination blog because it kinda fits and I'm too lazy to create a separate post (since I had to do the 1st one like 6 times before Tumblr would take it).

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Well the gold leaf didnt arrive before my patience ran out so I just finished it with what I had, including rhinestones for the pomegranates!

Cross posting to my main as well, well because I can.

@whatevercomestomymind @theshitpostcalligrapher @alice-and-cheshire-cat @luvnaught @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

MOTHERS AND FUCKERS OF THE JURY

MY MOM WAS DIGGING AROUND SOME OLD STUFF AND FOUND MY NOTEBOOK FROM HIGHSCHOOL WITH ALL THE RECIPES I RECORDED WHILST WORKING IN THE KITCHEN OF MY FAVE GREEK RESTAURANT I THOUGHT ID LOST IT FUCK YESSSSSSS

[thelastlightningbug]

dude if we dont see some of those you KNOW anger will b oozing towards you through the fire and brimstone landscape of tumbgle.corn

congrats though, im super forgetful and i know that absolute joy of finding something you thought would be long gone. 

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

okay a couple of things 

first of all, i’ve put it on my to do list to add to my various recipe google docs. upon which i will make that link available to yall on tungler to read through at your leisure. 

secondly, i need to enter my notebook entries on my OWN family recipes first before that. I’ve begun slowly recording the methods my parents have for our various family recipes and i’ve only just begin that particular journey. (what the fuck is a measure??? feel the wind. ask your ancestors. they know how much garlic to put in this) Dont know what i’ll do with all of it when i have all of them, idk if its enough to try to get it published or w/e

thirdly

[matttheratkingart]

HEY WHAT’S UP I AM. LITERALLY POOPING MYSELF IN FEAR OVER THIS

But, well, money has been kind of tight lately, and I think I’ve finally decided to bite the bullet. I’ll be taking five commissions at a time to keep from overwhelming myself, and it’s First come First serve! If you got questions you can DM me on here or send it me an email!

If you can, please reblog and spread the word! Thank You!!!!!!!

[matttheratking]

Hey so due to some discrepancies with my workmans comp i’m not getting the back pay i’m supposed to and I’m down to my last few hundred until the 21st. Please consider commissioning me or at least reblogging. Thank you

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Support your local artist!

[whatevercomestomymind]

Even for shitposts, layout’s important! Cross posted to my calligraphy blog @typi-graphi-caldad

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Thought youd like to shee how you've inspired someone! @theshitpostcalligrapher you showed me that calligraphy doesnt have to be profound or religious, so thank you because I love this artform!

[baconcupcake]

[typi-graphi-caldad]

I cannot express how true this is

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Well I also paint. It's been a while but since I was sick, why not.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

req’d by @whyaretheycalledpancakes

hey yall look at me im 22 years old and i never learned how to fuckin spell “””””””””social”””””””” apparently

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Omfg spelling and calligraphy dont mix well for real. Like this happened yesterday:

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

me, hyperfocused into my tombe of the bee, starting to feel lightheaded and hand shakey because i havent eaten for like 7 hours: “is this the cursed energy fucking with me????”

[thesabbit]

The monks of old had a saying that every letter they scribed erased one sin from the world. I’m sure that eased the tedium of hand scribing entire bibles. Whatever the exact opposite of that is is what you’re doing.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

ay can one of my calligrapher followers pen that ^ and submit it to me thanx

[dailybotpurging]

We need your help

I already mentioned this on discord but the whole situation is so outrageous I’ll do it again here, for those of you who didn’t see it.

A few of you have brought to our attention the case of a cosplayer whose tumblr blog was stolen by bots. They can’t get their blog back and it’s now spamming pictures of girls and porn links and such. Ofc tumblr is doing nothing to help.

So if you’d like to help, please report the spamming bot, and also the cosplayer’s account, as they would rather see it taken down now, if they can’t recover it. Thank you!

http://nipahdubs.tumblr.com/ is the cosplayer

and http://makinakiwako.tumblr.com/ is the bot that originally started spamming their page. It’s interesting to note it is also a stolen blog, one that was abandoned around 2016.

Ugh, I wish @support would do something :(((

[lykanyouko]

Hello everyone! Sorry for bothering you with this. Nipah is an awesome and my favorite cosplayer of all times, his tumblr has been HACKED and STOLEN, now is sharing porn links and @support and @staff aren’t doing anything to help him recover it or at least take it down (because it’s a spam porn bot)

Please if you can report the spam posts, the account and the account that it’s creating the posts, which is STOLEN too, it would be awesome :)

Nipah is really a nice and fabulous guy and he doesn’t deserve that his face and name is being used for such a horrendous thing.

His picture to encourage you :)

Hope you don’t mind me to tag all of you, but you can ignore this if you want.

@misha-misha-destiel-misha @demonic-impala @ain-t-bovvered @the-devils-date @deancas-fustercluck @lovemesomecas94 @robotsnchicks @corycandlelit @creependart @m-amantiium @hemi528i @verobatto @magnificent-winged-beast

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Support local artists! And yes, you heard me, Cosplay is ART

[dilfosaur]

read the full comic here!

art is a good hobby let me tell you why

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Ok now I feel like I have to get off my ass and start sketching. I need 4 more hands. Too much to draw.

[catchymemes]

That’s some nice calligraphy you got there…

[typi-graphi-caldad]

Yup. True story every damn time.