lynyrd skynyrd clowncar accident

my notifications are once again devolving into a spirited debate about the ethics of actions that could potentially make someone uncomfortable, and at risk of sounding like someone about to get a lot of irate anons I think we're frankly giving way too to much moral weight to hypothetical discomfort

the thing about discomfort is that it's an extremely nebulous category that can be triggered by virtually anything and that's far too broad a category to have any inherent moral quality to it. like. my mom was mad uncomfortable when I stopped shaving. that didn't mean I was doing violence against my mom it just meant she needed to get over herself. many such cases it must be said.

When you thought it would be easy peasy lemon squeezy but it turns out to be difficult difficult lemon difficult.

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Not the citrus scale I was looking for but I like it

Go to the Wikipedia page of Schizoid Personality Disorder for a beautiful image of the sea

Yup

where else can i go

One way to get tasks done in the day is to make yourself a Chekhov's List. Put all of the things you have to do on a list, and now that they've been revealed they'll need to be completed by the afternoon (third act) and when you've completed something you can Chekov that task from the list

Something about the bastardization of the story time and time again proves that nobody in power really cares about the people who would resonate with King’s Carrie White. A girl so ugly and repulsive she’s been removed from her own story. The societal need for women and girls to be constantly perceived as attractive is what fuels a fair amount of her torment in the book, but that person isn’t even allowed to exist on the screen. We cannot empathize with her; it isn’t allowed. It’s fascinating to me.

The year is 2015, you wake up at 2pm and rush to your computer. Your friends are on skype! You message your skype group and say “dgdjfgdfg GOOD MRONGING I OVERSLEP TGDFG”, all your friends reply with a keysmash. They update you on what happened while you napped, two of your mutuals got called out for kinstealing. Tsh- not like you’re surprised. Even if they tagged as “not kin or id”, you knew they were reblogging too much chrom art for them not to be kin. Your friends quickly send you the callout post link and you scroll through it hastily. Looks like they also stole their mutuals theme layout. You close the callout and open tumblr.com, you recently changed your url from bpdayato to ayato2 (score!) and need to reblog the notice post again for your mutuals who may not have seen. You have one new ask! You open your inbox to read it. It says- “were u tumblr user schizogod.” …you delete the ask. You know if you say yes they will bring up old callouts, but that’s not important- your friends just sent you a rabbit invite and you’re going to watch darkweb videos!

is this like satire or did you guys actually live this

im so sorry that you're doomed by the narrative but i really need you to answer my message on Microsoft Teams

God I fucking love being a monk at the Monastery of Lindisfarne on this fine morning of June 8th, 793. I love looking at all the gold and silver objects and alive monks that live here.

through multiple disposable propaganda networks painstakingly build up over the course of the last decade, a couple of very expensive bribes to some very influential people, and no less than thirty sockpuppet accounts on reddit, i have put into motion a series of events which will culminate in a singular idea forming pseudo-organically in the consciousness of progressive discourse: the idea that it's problematic to subject a woman to a sexual encounter without having practiced on your homies first

i do this because i am a good fucking person and not for any personal benefits btw

makes me so sad when my friends refuse to pirate things and insist on paying for a streaming service EVEN when i offer to do it for them or teach them. like pleaseeee i have a vpn i have a plex server i can get you whatever you want. don't buy disney+ i can be your little poob i have it for you.

went to the beach ten minutes after an actual thunderstorm and got so cold i started coming up with a “fish” cover of creep by Radiohead which I was singing out loud over and over again. imagine me waist deep in the waves no feeling in my legs getting over a cold voice singing “i wish i was urchin. you’re so fucking urchin”

i was on the way to the movies & i saw an old guy with a piece of wood over his shoulders. it was huge -- a pole several feet long with a kind of wide fan at the end of it. and i said "what the hell is that?" and he looked at me and had this kind of ear to ear grin, and he said "what do you mean 'what the hell is that'?" and he sat back on his heels, still with that big smile like the sun spilling from the underside of a cloud and waited for me to answer and i said "i mean i don't know why you're walking around with that thing, whatever it is." and he laughed and put down his pole and kinda clapped me on the shoulder. "can i get you a drink?" he said. and i said "no, the show's in ten minutes," and he said "oh? what are you seeing?" and i said "christopher nolan's odyssey, i'm pretty excited," and he sighed and picked up his oar and kept walking.