Don't mind me, I'll just be back here...

In case anyone could use this right now.

great work everyone!

2024 is a terrible year to be a henchman. The word "minion" is barely usable and you can't even say "goon" anymore.

ONLY A TRUE ARTIST CAN!

Happy 20k notes! I genuinely fucking hate this post. Despise it with every ounce of my body. Cool art though

#famously few birds in space#probably the safest place to take him (via @placeofwonder)

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he’s in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he’s got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD’S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I’m overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. “Bhurr blur, I’m Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs”. Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he’s sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That’s the worst part. I know he’s just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children’s movie, I know it doesn’t matter, I know I shouldn’t care. But that’s part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world’s array of sinners, and I can’t even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity’s saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It’s EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it’s disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

holy shit you’re not wrong

what on God’s green earth are you talking about

See sometimes I wonder why I’m still on this website, and then posts like this come along. Amazing. 

oh my god holy fuckign shit okay i had to hunt this post down to say that i had a brief dream about this post and basically someone said “2020 would’ve been better if olaf didn’t exist” and someone reblogged with “olaf (derogatory)” i am losing my MIND

Ez is milyen egy kibaszott ostoba sport

since goncharov (1973) is now having a rennaisance on tumblr for some reason, i would love to share a fun fact about the inspiration for this film. even though its set in the 20th century, the inspiration for the story actually comes from a 19th century theatre play written by none other than the most famous czech playwright Jára Cimrman! Even though there is some discourse about this in the level of connection between these two works of art, there is no doubt that the struggle and emotional journey of Goncharov really reflects the one of the titular character of the play, Hloupý Honza. Therefore it's quite clear where the idea for the film comes from. I would even say that the transformation into a new medium and time setting really bring out a more subtle themes of the play to light. If you are interested, the play is actually free on youtube with english subtitles

goncharov is a masterpiece of unreliable narration,,,,,, the first scene being his dad fixing his old pocket watch and giving it to goncharov and then the last shot of the broken quadrant...... EXCEPT we learn throughout the movie that goncharov's father died a few days after his birth SO that first scene is a fabricated memory and that leaves you to wonder: did goncharov ever, actually had time to run out of?

holdon . wait . BEFORE twitter dies does anyone wanna admit they have a crush on me