Sewing beneath a ceiling of scissors

SKIPPY 

“I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER” GOT FAMOUS OFF THE BACKS OF THE PIONEERING LOLCATS

THIS WAS IN THE BEFORE-TIMES 

WHEN THEY WERE KNOWN AS 

CAT MACROS 

AND THEY DIDN’T HAVE TO MAKE ANY SENSE

AND NOW YOU WILL HAVE TO SCROLL THROUGH A FUCKIN’ FEW MORE

THERE WAS A SONG.

Also long cat. I’m sad no one posted long cat.

I was told about this neat, unique bulletin board system called 4chan in November of 2003, by a friend of mine who had just deployed. The site had literally just started a month prior. I lurked there for years, participated in Project Chanology (and actually made the English press kit that went out to a lot of media outlets), vaguely migrated to SomethingAwful at one point, saw Slenderman get created, and all that shit. In the midst of it was lolcats.

Cat macros became lolcats on 4chan and the other -chan websites. They’re all still the same thing. And I Can Haz was one of the first. The white Impact font on a black or dark background became “standard” at some point but TLDR: I Can Haz owes his existence and popularity to 1. Caturday as a concept, and 2. Someone seeing it and finding it fucking hilarious, and then buying a website just to show it off and going viral.

Ceiling cat, Longcat, Nyancat, Jesus Christ it’s a Lion, I'mma Chargin mah Lazerz, and all those - they all came after I Can Haz.

the internet equivalent of that is the y2k otaku wallpaper aesthetic. you can't make those anymore, only forgeries that mimic the originals

here is my short real life abortion and early pregnancy survival guide (pastebin)

other links:

How to Get A Safe Abortion, No Matter How Far Along You Are or How Much Money You Have

Check here to see if medicaid will cover your costs

Financial aid for abortions

prochoice.org has a list for each state of NAF funded clinics and free hotlines for information.

HERE COME DAT BOI

There's a huge sense of social isolation that comes with being perceived as male, because now people are subconsciously treating me as a potential predator. All strangers, no matter their gender, keep their guard up around me.

It made me realize that there is no inherent camaraderie in male socialization as there is in female socialization—unless, of course, it's in very specific environments. And the fact I don't amnbiently experience this mutual kinship in basic exchanges anymore is an insanely lonely feeling.

Absolutely, because it's an extremely sticky issue.

Frankly, this is something I would've never understood without living the experience.

It's now blatantly clear to me that most cis men probably experience chronic emotional malnutrition. They're deprived of social connection just enough for it to seriously fuck with their psyches, but not enough for them to realize that it's happening and what's causing it.

It's like they're starving, but don't know this because they've always been served 3 meals...except those meals have never been big enough.

This deprivation comes from all sides of aisle, by the way.

In the case of women: When I'm out in public and interact with women, all of them come off as incredibly aloof, cold, and mirthless. I have never experienced this before even though I know exactly what this composure is—the armor that keeps away creepy-ass men.

As someone who used to wear it myself, I know this armor is 100% impersonal. Nobody likes wearing it, and I can say with absolute certainty that women would dump the armor in favor of unconditional companionship with men if doing this didn't run the risk of actual assault. (Trust me when I say women aren't just being needlessly guarded.)

But I only have a complete understanding of this context because I've experienced female socialization. If I hadn't, I would've thought this coldness was a conspiracy against me devised by roughly half of the human population. Even now, with all that I know about navigating the world as a woman, I'm failing to convince my monkey-brain that this armor isn't social rejection.

And as for male socialization? Again, it seems taboo for a man to be platonically intimate with men for reasons I have yet to fully understand, but I think it boils down to a) the fact society teaches boys that it's not okay to be soft with each other, and b) garden-variety homophobia. Our media only shows men being intimate with one another when they're teamed up against a dire situation, and I'd bet real money it's a huge reason why men gravitate toward activities that simulate being teamed up against an opposing force.

But men are not machines of war. Yes, testosterone absolutely gives you Dumb Bastard Brain, but that just makes you want to skateboard a wagon down a hill or duct-tape your friend to the wall, not kill someone.

The human species looks so much colder standing from this side.

I can see how men might convince themselves that their feelings of emotional desperation is personal weakness as opposed to a symptom they're all experiencing from White Imperialism. Because this human connection, this frith, is as essential for our wellbeing as water is.

Things people who only like weird bad modern art say. This is about thomas kinkade btw. Modern art consoomer types HATE him with vitriol

These are his paintings. Absolutely beautiful and stunning. These people think its Low Brow.

another reason they’re sort of scorned by the art world? not only is every painting the same saccharine subject matter (which, fine, they like flowery cottages and mist, we get it), it’s the way they apply values, colors, and details. everything is given the same amount of attention which makes them busy and kind of difficult to look at while simultaneously having nothing of particular interest to tell you. let’s look at these 3 in grayscale.

the values are all sort of in the same area; his style doesn’t really utilize them to push things back or pull them forward except maybe a little bit in the 3rd image and only because he thought to add a line of mist between the trees and mountain. the creek, cottages, and chapel though?? feel like they’re on the same level of distance from the viewer instead of going gradually further back. where does that foreground tree end and that chapel begin??? the top right image’s cottage looks like a flat because there’s no shadow or highlight to distinguish the front face from the side. in the top left, that cottage in the background blends with the flower arch in the foreground because they have the same amount of rendering in the same values. the piece would be stronger if it created a hierarchy of what to look at, but that wouldn’t be in “the style” so it’s out of the question.

it’s fiiiiine. and that’s it.

That could be all that is off-putting, but other than that, i find it oddly repulsive. I find it interesting that some people feel soothed by these paintings but hey, whatever floats your boat. 

I find this painting by Eva Wolf very soothing though

“Afterwards in the peace that followed the Shire-folk ruled themselves and prospered. They chose a Thain to take the place of the King, and were content; though for a long time many still looked for the return of the King. But at last that hope was forgotten, and remained only in the saying When the King comes back, used of some good that could not be achieved, or of some evil that could not be amended.“

Supernatural was very obviously always (at least in part) about the traumas of masculinity, its violence, its ruptured relationships, fathers who couldn’t take good care of their sons, sons who couldn’t live up to their fathers, brothers who would die for each other but would die before they’d say that out loud, the thrill of power and freedom and also the horror of having no one to turn to for help.  And there was so much of that bodily vulnerability – having your body invaded and violated, being driven to your knees, being forced to the point of blood and tears, it always seemed to me like there was a little edge of that same kind of fascination – not literally about sex, but erotic in how tangled up it was with the idea of submission.

Okay, let’s do this one last time, yeah? For real this time. This is it. My name is Miles Morales.