Grey Slate

[Image ID: Notification reading: (blocked out) @/ gmail.com has invited you to edit the following spreadsheet: Dibs on Mom’s Stuff (after she’s dead). Note reads: Well at least two of my children, who shale remain nameless but we all know who you are, have expressed to me that they would like to be recipients of certain of my possessions after I die. I am confident that these things are not so compelling that you are willing to send me to an early grave, or whatever the cheapest and greenest legal way to dispose of my body is, but please have some kind of mass for me because I am still Catholic. /End ID]

Crack theory: There's nothing supernatural going on in Iron Lung. Simon is just experiencing the side effects of chugging almost pure ethanol like a fucking moron.

Crack theory: There's nothing supernatural going on in Iron Lung. Simon is just experiencing the side effects of chugging almost pure ethanol like a fucking moron.

The later this gets posted, the funnier it gets

that last teapot is like witnessing an eternal and important truth

I just watched this with the sound on and i really recommend it because the utter silence of the last teapot is both perfectly predictable and totally remarkable.

i hope the anonymous person who sent the "i used to live in your house. i'm drunk in boston and it's the only address i know. happy holidays" postcard is aware that they wrote my favourite poem

Everybody needs to listen to Gustav Holst's The Planets, not for hoity-toity nerd reasons, but because literally every epic sci-fi movie soundtrack for the past hundred years has been directly lifting shit from this one specific collection of pieces, and you deserve to hear your favourite motif in its native environment.

This piece is called Shake by the way