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wallacepolsom

★

roma★
Not today Justin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
occasionally subtle
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

JBB: An Artblog!

izzy's playlists!

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Peter Solarz
sheepfilms

Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
tumblr dot com
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n
noise dept.

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@unstable-turtle
they’re my comfort idiots, your honor
i spent $32 on this fucking bowl at the moma and at first i felt bad buying it bc it was so expensive but ive had a terrible day today and every time i look at my lil bowl im like :o) you know what. i can get through anything with this bowl by my side
i literally get what marie kondo was talking about now
bc everyone keeps requesting to see it filled :)
“Autism hasn’t got anything to do with it. He’s an asshole because he’s got about 70 different silver spoons shoved straight up his ass.”
-My Aunt Debbie, discussing Elon Musk after several glasses of Chianti.
Aunt Debbie is right and she should drink up and say so
Tumblr would like to buy Aunt Debbie several more rounds.
10^12. one and twelve zeroes. a million, squared. beyond evil. he's about as much human as a sheet of white paper is
shout at me on anon how he 'deserves it' cause he 'works hard' and im somehow a 'communist' for wanting this shitlord locked up
So I have a question for my followers: are there any conspiracy theories you’re 100% convinced are real
Canadian prime minister Justing Trudeau is the illegitimate son of the late Cuban dictator Fidel Castro
Search your feelings, you know it to be true.
Castro with Treudeau’s parents
holding Justin’s older brother as a baby
Supposed parents are both white, yet Justin has Brown nipples
See, the nipples angle is just not something I would’ve thought to pursue
1000$ says his brother, who actually looks like his father Pierre, has pink nipples.
Do we have a picture of Fidel’s nipples? My searches have yielded fakes and forgeries.
I know that this is a common response, but this post knocked the wind out of me, as if I had been punched. Let’s put aside the political ramifications of this conspiracy theory, and let’s focus on the fact that Justin Trudeau’s nipples are what betrayed his parentage
See, where else but Tumblr dot cum will I find people posting about conspiracy theories and Justin Trudeau’s nipples?
gays showing off their newly bleached hair to their plants during quarantine
No, Mike Pence got fucked by a horse. How else do you get the outside of a horse inside a man?
Better?
Much.
Horse must have been desperate
I wonder what we’re meant to think about Biden’s consistent position of don’t vote for Biden.
It just keeps happening, almost like he wants to lose.
Two things:
I think at this point it’s pretty clear he cared more about preventing Bernie from winning than he actually wanted to win himself.
Him saying he doesn’t remember Reade is not the defense he thinks it is. That is actually entirely consistent with her account in which he told her that she was “nothing” to him.
But I am still going to vote for him, because flawed though he is, he is better than Trump.
it took me like a full minute to realise that this was a post that was blocked with my own tumblr filters and not that “this post may contain reddit and american” was the funny post I was like wtf why can’t I reblog this
Why do you have that blacklisted in the first place? Seems oddly specific
because I hate americans and redditors next question
Don’t wanna be an American Redditor
rb this with ur opinion on this shade of pink:
This is magenta, and not pink. Unlike pink, magenta doesn’t actually exist. Our brain just invents magenta to serve as what it considers a logical bridge between red and violet, which each exist at opposite ends of a linear spectrum.
TL;DR this color is fake (and also I hate it)
Wait til you learn about Stygean Blue
Your brain is a badly-designed hot mess of bootstrapped chemistry that will tell you that all kinds of shit is happening that has no correlation to physical reality, including time travel. It just makes things up. Your brain is guessing about what’s happening when your eyes saccade, what’s happening in your blind spot, and what the majority of the visible light spectrum looks like, and you don’t know it’s happening because it doesn’t aid your survival to become aware that a lot of what you see is fake.
The human eye only has three types of color sensitive cones, which detect red, blue, and green light. Your brain is making up every other color you perceive.
Let’s have a little fun with that thought. This is the visible spectrum of light.
You will of course note that yellow is on the chart. Yellow has a discreet wavelength, and is therefore a distinct physical color. But we can’t see it.
“Sorry, what the fuck?”
What we call yellow is just what our brain shrugs and spits out when our red and green cones are equally stimulated. We have light receptors that can pick up on the physical spectrum of light we call yellow: that’s why yellow things don’t just look like moving black blocks to us. But your brain has no fucking idea what the color yellow looks like.
Some animals have eyes that can perceive the color yellow! Goldfish have a yellow cone in their eyes. If they could talk, they could tell us what yellow looks like. But we wouldn’t be able to understand it.
What your brain actually sees of the color spectrum:
We can measure the wavelength of light, so we know that when we see ‘yellow,’ we are seeing light in that 550-ish nanometers range. But we don’t have a cone in our eyes that can pick that up. Your brain just has a very consistent guess about what color that wavelength of light could be. We decided to name that guess ‘yellow.’ We can’t imagine what yellow really looks like any more than a dog can imagine the color red.
Here’s the funny thing: your brain is never perceiving just one photon of light at a time. Something like 2*10⁸ photons per second are hitting your retina under normal conditions. Your brain doesn’t individually process all of them. So it averages them out. It grabs a bunch of photons all coming from the same direction, with the same pattern, and goes, “yeah, that cup is blue, fuck it, next.”
That’s how colors blend in our eyes. So sure, if a photon of light with a wavelength of 550 nanometers bounces into our eyes, we see what we call “yellow.” But if we see two photons at the same time, coming from the same object, one of which is 500 nms and the other of which is 600 nms, your brain will average them out and you will still see yellow even though none of the light you just saw was 550 nms.
So how does magenta factor into this?
Well, as we’ve just established, when your brain sees light from two different slices of the visible light spectrum, it will try to just average them together. Green plus red is yellow, fuck it. If it’s more red than green, we’ll call that ‘orange.’ Literally who gives a shit, we’re trying to forage over here. There are bears out here and it’s so scary.
What happens if you take the average of blue and red light, which we perceive to be magenta? What’s the centerpoint of that line?
Fucking green.
Hey, that’s not gonna work? We live on a planet where EVERYTHING IS GREEN. If something is NOT green, that means it’s either food, or a potential source of danger, and either way your brain wants you to know about it.
So your brain goes, WHOOPS. Okay - this is fine. We already made up yellow, orange, cyan, and violet. We’ll just make up another color. Something that looks really, really different from green.
And so it made up magenta.
So, physics-wise, is magenta “real?”
No; there’s no single wavelength of light that corresponds to magenta. But you’re rarely seeing only a single wavelength of light anyway. And even when you are, every color other than RGB is a dart thrown on the wall by your meat computer. This is the CIE Chromaticity Diagram:
Explaining this thing is a little more than I want to take on on a Saturday morning, but I’ve included a link above that goes into it a little more. The point is that only the colors that actually touch the ‘outline’ of the shape actually correspond to a specific wavelength of light. All of the other colors are blends of multiple wavelengths. So magenta isn’t special.
Given that color is just a fun trick your brain is playing on you to help you find food and avoid danger, is magenta real?
Yeah, absolutely. Or at least, it’s just as real as most of what we see. It’s what we see when we mix up blue and red. It would be disastrous from a survival standpoint to perceive that color as green, so we don’t. Because it’s not green. Light that’s green has a wavelength of around 510 nm. Stuff that’s magenta bounces back light that is both ~400 and ~700. Your brain knows the difference. So it fills in the gap for you, with the best guess it has, same as it does with your blind spot.
The perception of color exists within your brain, and your brain says you see magenta. So you see magenta.
So I googled Stygian Blue and…
Yall.
FORBIDDEN.
HOW TO SEE THE FORBIDDEN COLOURS
Hyperbolic Orange is the color my soul is
Dark tumblr show me the forbidden colors
The Color Out of Space movie uses magenta as shorthand for the indescribable otherworldly color that drives the characters insane.
this movie is so fucking creepy jesus fuck
It’s by Tim Burton, what did you honestly expect?
Actually, it’s Henry Selick, who was the director of The Nightmare Before Christmas. The book was written by Neil Gaiman, though, and is far…far….worse.
Sorry, I’m about to geek the hell out.
The movie is captivating, but the book is twenty kinds of terrifying, even now, ten years after I first read it. As disturbing as the movie may have been to some, the things Selick added really serve to cushion just how horrific the story really is.
First of all, the character of Wybie does not exist in the book. Coraline is facing all of this nearly alone, with her only help coming from the sly comments of the cat, a warning from the circus mice, and the stone given to her by her neighbor, presented with no comment but that it “makes the unseen seen.”
Second, the Other Parents are never quite as warm (and, dare I say, normal) as they are in the gifs above. They’re described as having paper-white skin and the Other Mother’s hair is said to move on its own, and her long, red, claw-like nails don’t ease any uncertainty that she is absolutely, positively up to no good. The first time Coraline meets them, they (and the rest of the Others) seem to be playing roles (for whatever reason, Coraline does not seem to pick up on this), like they all know what to say and what to do and are simply waiting for Coraline to make her move in their terrifying play world. This is shown to be partly true when the Other Parents tell her they know she’ll be back soon after she refuses the buttons - this time, to stay.
Third, the Other Mother commits atrocities that really should not have been in a book for anyone not fully grown up. She physically deforms the world around Coraline to slow her progress in their game beyond any mild traps the movie portrays, and, instead of turning the Other Father into the wandering pumpkin-thing seen in the film, she simply ceases to use him and throws his body away in the cellar, leaving him to rot with whatever bit of sentience he has left. She begins to lose her touch, as Coraline gains the upper hand. Her world doesn’t just become a nightmare - it falls apart completely. No creepy but oddly cool bug furniture here, just the house that now appears to be a child’s drawing. Whatever the Other Mother is (a beldame, but something tells me she’s much more ancient and powerful than that), she does not give half a hump about what she has to do to ensnare Coraline. Destroy the supporting characters of her twisted creation? Done. Allow herself to be dismembered to ruin Coraline’s life in the normal world? Not even gonna bat an eyelash.
On a final, personal note, imagine eight year-old me, ignored by my parents, absorbed in the story and identifying with Coraline from the start. Imagine me finishing this bloodcurdling book and immediately thinking of my basement, where there is still a locked door that my grandmother swears up and down is nothing more than a storage room, but has not once in my (or my mother’s) lifetime unlocked.
Can you see why this book still scares me?
Fun fact I learned from seeing neil gaiman speak: when he first wanted the book published, his editor said it was too scary. He suggested she read it to her young daughter, and then decide. So she did, and her daughter wasn’t afraid, and it was published. Years later, Gaiman was sitting next to that daughter at an event and told her this story, and she said “oh I was terrified I just didn’t want to tell my mom”.
Coraline WAS too scary to be published, but exists anyway because a girl lied to her mother.
@neil-gaiman, is this true about the publisher’s daughter?
It was my literary agent, Merrilee Heifetz who read it and said “you can’t seriously expect this to be published as a children’s book.” So I suggested she read it to her daughters. And she called me back a week later and said “They love it and they weren’t scared at all. I’ll take it to Harper Children’s.”
A decade later, at the Opening Night of the Coraline musical, I was sitting next to Morgan, Merilee’s youngest daughter, and told her how her not being scared had made the book happen. And she said “I was terrified. But I needed to find out what happened next. So nobody knew.”
So, yes.
I love genuinely innocent “boys will be boys.” Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans they’d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going “YOOOOOOOOOO”
I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.
I once lost my keys at a frat house.
My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch. Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out. I do not remember this part.
The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house. I stood there, right in front of the front door. This was a novel experience for me. I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.
A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing.
“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back. “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”
He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.
“Go wherever you want.”
I’d never seen a frat house post-party before. Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light. A few of them threw puzzled glances my way. I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.
I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.
“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.
I told him I did.
He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking for my keys.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”
I didn’t doubt him.
Twenty minutes had passed. I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house. I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.
As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.
“You need help with something?”
“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”
“What do they look like? I’ll put it into the group chat.” He was already pulling out his phone.
No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell. It was worth a shot. “Um, it’s just a ring of keys. The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big. Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”
He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.
“Alright, I sent the message out. Good luck.”
And with that, he turned and left.
A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering. It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder. One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.
“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob. “Girl! Hey, GIRL!!! We found your keys, girl!!!”
They circled around me. I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old. One of them split himself off from the crowd.
“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”
And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Oh my god, yes.”
“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
The cheer went up.
Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs. I thanked them again profusely. There was a scattered round of “no problems” and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.
THIS is boys will be boys
on a camp with teenage boys recently and as i was one of the camp leaders, it was part of my duties to help wake said boys in the morning (at 6am or a similar ungodly hour).
we (the camp leaders) found the most efficient way to do so was to blast music from a tinny little speaker one of us owned.
so before the sun itself has risen, we’re walking down a corridor with 8+ rooms filled with 6 or more boys in each, blasting the one and only Let It Go from Frozen, hoping to wake a few students, preparing for hateful commentary.
instead, what we got was the thumps and shouts of boys excitedly leaping from bunk beds, stuffing on shirts and bursting into the corridor to scream the lyrics to Let It Go.
every.single.boy.did this.
as soon as the song finished, they acted like it never happened and went back to their rooms to get dressed.
Nature is amazing, just look at this complex mating display
Kdidndodjdjfififod WHAT
The fabulous Target Troll strikes again!
The last one was great!
FRITO-LAY COMING FOR BLOOD OMH
Who else thinks Frito-Lay wrote a big book of comebacks just to deal with these idiots