"Peggle make phone calls" has become shorthand for "fuck it, whatever" for me but no one ever knows what im talkingabout and it's also longer (longhand?)
peggle make phone calls
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"Peggle make phone calls" has become shorthand for "fuck it, whatever" for me but no one ever knows what im talkingabout and it's also longer (longhand?)
peggle make phone calls

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Dan comments on this instagram reel from pinknews!
19 October 2025
im obsessed with this one guy on instagram who goes to that deer park in japan and takes videos of them set to 2000s pop punk and rock. all of the videos are like this
In a rural Vermont county, spotty cell phone coverage is the norm. But a local tinkerer is using old technology to help his community stay c
Schlott has taken old pay phones, modified them to make free calls, and set them up in three different towns across the county. He buys the phones secondhand from sites like eBay and Craigslist and restores them in his home workshop. With just an internet connection, these phones can make calls anywhere in the U.S. or Canada β no coins required. And Schlott covers all the operating costs himself.
When's the last time you saw a working payphone?
More of this, please.
have you guys ever seen a crocodile with its fingies out

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"I can give you the exact play-by-play that was happening in my mind when everyone else was projecting something entirely different."
Art forgery is the best crime tbh. It requires absolutely incredible artistic talent, technical skill, and attention to detail to make convincing fakes. Does anyone get hurt from it? No! The only people who suffer for it are the extremely wealthy who want the prestige of having original paintings in their own homes. Itβs full of international intrigue and mystery. Perfect.
Alsoβ¦ art forgers like van Meegeren sometimes become a kind of folk hero. A swindler, sure, but a gentlemanβs swindler.
I liked this guyβs story, Mark Landis, who conned several dozen museums into displaying his forgeries, but when the FBI came after him they couldnβt do anything because he had always given them away as donations. They said if they could have found that heβd ever taken anything in exchange they would have prosecuted him, but all he wanted was get to out of the house and meet people.
βThe first painting Landis βdonatedβ was a copy of a work by Maynard Dixon, an artist well-known for his paintings of cowboys and Indians. It started as impulse, Landis says, but then βeverybody was just so nice and treated me with respect and deference and friendship, things I was very unused to β I mean, actually not used to at all. And I got addicted to it.ββ And it looks like all his forgeries are done with cheap materials, like markers and Hobby Lobby frames.
Ok, but Wolfgang Beltracchi is probably one of the best Fraud Artists in the world.
His career brought him millions upon millions of dollars and lasted almost 40 years. He finally admitted to painting fraudulent art after the white paint he used came under scrutiny.Β
β BobΒ Simon: What do you think this Max Ernst would be worth? Wolfgang Beltracchi: This one? Simon: Yeah. Beltracchi: $5 million, I think. Simon: $5 million. Β And you can do it in three days? Beltracchi: Yeah, oh yes, yes, sure, or quickerβ -From a 60 minutes interview with Bob Simon
In The interview withΒ Beltracchi, he said that none of his forgeries are copies, theyβre all original works that the famous artists could have painted.
βBeltracchi estimates he has done 25 Max Ernsts. He is not copying an existing work. Heβs painting something he thinks Ernst might have done if heβd had the time or felt like it.β Β -Β The Con Artist: A multi-million dollar art scam
His wife was also in on the scam, she would dress up in old clothing and take pictures holding the paintings with old cameras to fake proof of the paintingsβ ages.
At the end of the interview with Wolfgang Beltracchi he was asked if he felt he had done anything wrong, his answer wasΒ β Yeah, I used the wrong kind of paintβ
Just β¦ the levels of con there, the fake photos and β¦ wow. Thatβs incredible.Β
Thatβs just rapscallionry.
This is what AI wants to take from us.
Letβs add Tom Keating to the mix, yeah?
Keating painted more than 2,000 forgeries by over 100 different artists in his sixty-six years. Many had fraudulently sold at auctions with the total profits estimated at over 10 million dollars. βI flooded the market with the work of Palmer and many others,β the artist said. βNot for gain (I hope I am no materialist) but simply as a protest against the merchants who make capital out of those I am proud to call my brother artists, both living and dead. It seemed disgraceful to me how many of them had died in poverty,β he defended in The Fakeβs Progress, his autobiography. βAll their lives they had been exploited by unscrupulous dealers and then, as if to dishonor their memory, these same dealers continued to exploit them in death.β [β¦] Keating had a great respect and understanding of all the artists he imitated but was always reckless in his handling of the materials. He often used house paint and poster paint to mix in with his acrylics as a cheaper way to achieve the impasto works. At times he wouldnβt bother preparing his antique canvases he found at the junk shops out of laziness, so that in just a few years the paint would peel right off to reveal what was originally underneath. Keating often planted what he called βtime bombsβ like this in his paintings. Because of his understanding of the chemicals used in art restoration, Keating would purposely paint with layers of glycerin, which would destroy the painting once it was cleaned by a restorer, proving it was a fake. He often wrote obscenities under his paintings, like βBollocks!β, in lead white so that it could be seen by the experts who x-rayed the painting to check its authenticity.
- Darby Milbrath, Tom Keating on Painters
If you canβt find a place on your blog for Patrick Stewart in a bathtub dressed like a lobster, then your blog probably doesnβt deserve such majesty anyway.
People who give pets a bit of chocolate when they know itβs their pets last day are a bit of a funny concept. Imagine being old and friends with an alien who will live ten times your lifespan and theyβre like βah shit heβs dying, well since youβre dying anyway havenβt you always wanted to know what uranium tastes like?β
In this scenario have you been asking to share the alien's uranium desserts for your entire friendship?
Well to be fair if I was friends with a heavy metal-eating alien and he LOVED uranium and loved to put it in various forms in his alien desserts or ate it on its own sometimes and his species had a guy who made intrictate edible uranium scuptures that everyone on Krunglr (Saturnian tumblr) lost their shit over then yeah I'd be quite curious too
HEREβS THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello youβd get connected to them, so I just launch right into my βHarvard University and NPR blah blah blahβ thing and then thereβs this long pause and I think the personβs hung up even though I didnβt hear a click
And then I hear βyou shouldnβt be able to call this number.β
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we arenβt selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
βNo, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.β
I explain that itβs randomly generated and Iβm very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
βMaβam, this is a matter of national security.β
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.Β
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.Β
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. βThis is a holdover from the cold war.β They said. βIt isnβt going to come up, but hereβs the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.β
So my third night there, itβs around 2am and thereβs a ringing sound.Β
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken byβ¦
βUhβ¦ Is Shantavia there?β
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporationβs command center in the mid-west United States.
Thereβs another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying βI think you have the wrong number, maβam.β and Iβm standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.Β
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that Iβm sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so Iβm reblogging it again where I swear Iβve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline.Β Hereβs the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number.Β And the number they printed?Β It went straight through to fucking NORAD.Β This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay.Β NORAD was the front line.
And it wasnβt just any number at NORAD.Β Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. βOnly a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,β she says.
βThis was the β50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,β Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. βAnd then there was a small voice that just asked, βIs this Santa Claus?β β
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke β but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
βAnd Dad realized that it wasnβt a joke,β her sister says. βSo he talked to him, ho-ho-hoβd and asked if he had been a good boy and, βMay I talk to your mother?β And the mother got on and said, βYou havenβt seen the paper yet? Thereβs a phone number to call Santa. Itβs in the Sears ad.β Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.β
βIt got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, βThe old manβs really flipped his lid this time. Weβre answering Santa calls,β β Terri says.
And then, it got better.
βThe airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,β Pam says.
βAnd Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,β Rick says.
βDad said, βWhat is that?β They say, βColonel, weβre sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?β Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, βThis is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.β Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, βWhereβs Santa now?β β Terri says.
For real.
βAnd later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, βThank you, Colonel,β for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,β she says. βYou know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing heβs known for.β
βYeah,β Rick [his son] says, βitβs probably the thing he was proudest of, too.β
So yeah.Β I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Source:Β http://www.npr.org/2014/12/19/371647099/norads-santa-tracker-began-with-a-typo-and-a-good-sport
No okay THAT is adorable and Iβm queueing this for next December.
Same.

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love it when my friends say "you would do numbers on Tumblr" buddy I am on Tumblr. and the number is 3
wow π³ exceeding expectations!
Gendered parenting is so weird. As a little kid I was a total daddy's girl, I was told I would always try to sneak into the garage, I was always very interested in everything he was doing and would follow him around while he was working, but while my family was never the type to outright say "you can't do that because you're a girl", they simply didn't entertain the idea that I could possibly be interested in cars. Then when my little brother was born, it was just assumed he would become a mechanic like our dad because he was a boy. Even though he, unlike me, didn't like being in the garage much and wasn't all that interested in what dad was doing. Once he got to a certain age, dad started making him help and would drag him away from his actual interests for it, which lead to a lot of arguing and not much actual learning.
Gendered expectations sort of create doubles of children. There's the real child with their actual personality, interests and behaviors, and then there's the Gender Child.
My real brother hated soccer and team sports. The Gender Child that existed only the minds of the adults in his life needed to play soccer because that's what a Boy Child does.
Growing up, I always felt like adults didn't actually know me as a person and they weren't interested in getting to know me. Because they felt they'd already learned everything there was to know about me when they were told "it's a girl".
When I talk about how I never got gifts I actually liked from my relatives (to this day I still don't like getting gifts that aren't something I picked out myself), it isn't actually about the gifts themselves. I don't even remember them. What I do remember is the feeling of being given gifts that were seemingly not bought with the real me in mind. They were for the Girl Childβ’οΈ version of me. The me that adults wanted me to be, not who I actually was.
Peer reviewed:
The people who police your gender will police your gender even if you're cis.
Eat them.
"OH those body builder women with pancake breasts arent-" eat them.
"This woman has a beard, thats not-" eat them.
"That man has a baby face, that's not" - eat them with barbecue sauce.
Eat them. You will never be gender enough for their definition of gender. Eat them.
"Eddie, we have to go to Texas. We have to eat the TERF's. We have to Eddie, we're heroes Eddie"
official anti terf post
this reply in the comments tho
This did not go where I expected from the first tweet and now I am laughing so hard I am crying.

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spotify premium amazon prime netflix discord nitro hbo max disney plus youtube premium tumblr plus i hope you die premium i hope we all die plus
I just got described as an "ad hating commie" by someone because I said a minute of youtube ads is unpleasant. fully spent 5 minutes arguing and defending youtube ads. insane stuff
reblog if you are an ad hating commie
I'll make this easy.
You can download Firefox here.
And you can down an adblocker add-on for it, which works on YouTube, right here.
There are versions for desktop and mobile, and it's completely within your rights to use them. Don't use the YouTube app again - all of the functionality is preserved in Firefox. You can even create themes for the browser!
And the best bit? You can transfer all of your login details, bookmarks, and history over from your current browser. It takes about 10 minutes, including the download time. You might as well do it now; you were only going to mindlessly scroll Tumblr in that time anyway.
(And yes! It does block Tumblr adverts too! In fact, you get extra features that even the Tumblr app doesn't use! Scroll back up and install Firefox!)