CLOWNBAE

I watched Iron Lung again tonight in the comfort of my home and my dog must've been watching with me cause as soon as bad things started happening to Simon she started crying. In the scene where he ultimately dies she could not stop crying at me. I am now watching him play the Henry Stickman collection so she can see that A.) He's not dead and B.) He's not in distress. Occasionally he'll whine or hum in discontent about something and my dog will look at me and whine to try and get me to fix whatever is distressing Markiplier.

she's the opposite of that snake that hates markiplier

My most old-school internet opinion is bring back chunky scroll bars! I don't want some scroll bar so discreet I can't even find the fucking thing. I want a nice Windows 98-level of obviousness.

why is it so hot. why is it so hot. I am being punished.

let’s talk about how they made it impossible to function without a phone and digitalised everything and then turned around and went “actually! these phone things aren’t safe for kids but it’s magically ok once you’re eighteen. guess you’ll have to have your life dictated by your parents now lol cause we’re gonna take the devices away from you. IT’S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING”

ok my apologies. take away my ability to buy anything too ig because these fuckass stores don’t accept cash anymore. take away my ability to communicate with people outside my house and school because I can’t text and I can’t email and I cant drive to them either and I can’t even fucking get public transport without a phone either. can’t order at a fucking restaurant without being asked to get a membership and install an app and also very sorry but you can only order through our online menu now! have you ever considered that it’s not just about instagram?

I just wanna say the original is like a thousand times funnier than all the edgy sex joke versions. Some of us are just autistic about reptile phylogeny, bitch.

oh this is the original?

no animal was harmed during the making of this video. not one. for the few minutes that we were shooting film, the guns of each hunter fell silent. the industrial bolt throwers observed a moment's peace and the jaws of every predator hung softly open. no fish bit any hook and the bait worms held off on drowning only until the cameras stopped. the tails of ruminants ceased to flick just as their attendant flies, in unison, landed on their flanks to catch their tiny breaths. a spider instantly stopped winding silk around a wasp, patiently waiting for the caesura to end. a young veterinarian paused with the syringe in their hand. somewhere, a colicky baby stopped biting its mother's nipple and nursed happily for the very first time. we're sorry. we're sorry it couldn't have been longer. we didn't know this would happen.