Monterey Bay Aquarium

Love Begins
Keni

🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Mike Driver

JVL

oozey mess

if i look back, i am lost
EXPECTATIONS

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Show & Tell

roma★

Kiana Khansmith
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
ojovivo

izzy's playlists!

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@expectations

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The Three Graces by the late photographer Leonard Nimoy (yes, Spock from Star Trek!) from his Full Body Project
Greg Girard. Daily goods shop. Kowloon Walled City, Hong Kong c. 1987-1992
The Ghassan Abu Sittah Children’s Fund is based in the Blue Building, a medical center across from the American University of Beirut, in the
ID:
While I was in Beirut another doctor told me the story of a child from Gaza, who, after coming to Lebanon, learned that a man had died a natural death. This child did not understand. He did not know that death could come this way. It had to be explained to him, that people die of old age. The only cause of death the child knew was Israel. And he knew it well.

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Fumi Nagasaka. Pink House. Alabama 2018
paper animation made for helena - my chemical romance 🌟 with sound
The thing about American "leftist" comedians is that they aren't actually leftist, they are the Imperial Court Jesters. They stand on a stage, point directly at the blood-soaked gears of the war machine, make a little tee-hee noise, and the crowd erupts. Not because they are critiquing the machine, but because the laughter is a pressure release valve for the people inside it. Take the video of that stand-up asking the defense contractor if she helped Trump bomb those 160 Iranian school girls, and everyone laughing, including the contractor herself. That laughter is ritual absolution. The contractor laughs because she knows she will never face a tribunal. The audience laughs because they get to feel "self-aware" without having to actually stop anything. The joke doesn't condemn the contractor; it humanizes her, turns her into a lovable scamp who just happens to have a job graphing the velocity of shrapnel through children's bodies. By making it a punchline, the comedian sanitizes the atrocity. The blood is scrubbed off the stage. The audience gets to say "wow, we are so edgy for talking about it" while the person who builds the bombs gets to chuckle and order another drink. It is not satire, it is a team-building exercise for the empire.
Then there is the YouTuber talking about Transformers, casually dropping the "Iraq war aesthetic" like it's a color palette. Desert punk. Military core. A vibe. This is what happens when your country hasn't had a war on its own soil in living memory; the violence becomes media, a backdrop for childhood toys. The explosions are no longer the sound of mothers screaming; they are cool action sequences. They are digesting the visual debris of massacre as a nostalgic fashion choice, scraping the trauma off and compressing it into a genre for their retro-futurist fantasies. The apocalypse becomes a mood board.
And finally, the girl recounting celebrity love triangles from her childhood, flippantly mentioning how the U.S. was "busy with the Iraq war or whatever." Or whatever. That single phrase is the thesis statement of American innocence. Over a million dead, a region destabilized for a century, an endless river of grief; and for her, it was the commercial break between pop culture segments. It didn't raise her rent. It didn't stop her Wi-Fi. The violence is geo-locked to brown skin and distant deserts, just background noise like a refrigerator humming. She has the luxury of forgetting because the machine doesn't eat her children, it eats yours.
Americans don't hate the machine; they love the output. They hate the mess of it. So they turn it into jokes, into aesthetic, into "whatever." Because if they stopped laughing, if they stopped scrolling, if they actually looked at the 4K drone footage of the aftermath instead of the cool explosion CGI in their movies, they would have to realize that the lithium in their phones, the gas in their tanks, and the comfort of their suburban cul-de-sacs are all greased with the fat of foreign children. And they can't handle that. So they laugh. They turn it into a vibe. They call it "the Iraq war or whatever." You can't deconstruct the master's house with the master's jokes, especially when the punchline is the corpses holding up the floorboards.
i think people are starting to confuse class analysis with bioessentialism. like... no not all men do this, but Men as a constructed social class do do this. that's still okay to say. that is regular material analysis of the world around us.

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• post stamps p2
p1 - p3
i did more with post stamps since the last one seemed to been a hit with you guys
you do notttt need spiritualism you need class consciousness
kimya dawson and frank iero anyone else but you
every time a trans person posts in some online space about being a member of the US military and all their fellow americans flock in to absolve each other of their collective responsibility to not take part in the “murder as many brown people as possible” machine i get so angry because there’s invariably some of us lot in the bottom of the comments/notes/whatever going “hey did you know that “i was poor” is not a justifiable reason to join the “murder as many brown people as possible” machine under literally any circumstances” and getting completely dogpiled for holding the rational position that killing people in the sole name of imperialist capitalist interests is bad.
I feel like I'm the only Sanji fan alive who doesn't care about ZoSan. It's Sanmily. Sanji x ME.

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it's enies lobby DIABLE JAMBE!
when his suit goes from complete black to that eggplant violet because of the flame leg OOFFF do u girls remember???
you will see something that the us military has done and it will be the most horrifying thing in the world. something that should be the catalyst for a complete upheaval of the system, for riots in the streets, for national mourning periods and rewritten textbooks and decades of reparations. and the whole time it's just a normal day for them. they did something like it yesterday and they'll do it again tomorrow. the lucky ones even get to come home and spend the rest of their lives getting discounts at the movies and applause at baseball games. and if you try to express any this to the average person irl they will act like you shot their dog in front of them