I hate this site

blake kathryn
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Peter Solarz

oozey mess

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almost home
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Acquired Stardust
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JBB: An Artblog!

ellievsbear
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h

Discoholic 🪩

Andulka
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@thisambiguation
I hate this site

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““The ancient Greeks believed that when you read aloud, it was actually the dead, borrowing your tongue, in order to speak again.””
— - A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki
sophiet: The pack survived
vape queen of the north

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a good thing about having friends with kids is that you can just sow the seeds for something that you’ll never need to address again. like tonight my friend’s three year old saw me eating blue corn chips.
kid: what are you eating from that basket?
me: triangles.
kid: can i have triangles?
me: dunno, did you brush teeth yet?
kid: no
me: mhm, and are you okay with screaming really loud?
kidd: what???
me: yeah, sometimes these make you scream really loud, are you ok with that?
kid: i am not afraid of screaming.
me: you’re very brave. you can have two triangles. then why don’t you go show your dad your new power, i gotta go.
op u live up to ur username
There is only one gender and it’s
mine.
y’all can’t have it >:(
mom says it’s my turn on the gender
🚀🛸🛰
Georges Hobeika SS18
“me and my dog are the stupidest b*tches around”
I love this duo

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My dad is a kroger manager and sent me this (repost without personal info)
they thought 1 lb stood for “one little bean”
What’s the God Damn SAFEWORD!?!
rian johnson: your parentage doesnt matter and not everything needs to be about the skywalkers
jj abrams: fine. rey palpatine
Link
“We want the museum to understand that the moai are our family, not just rocks. For us [the statue] is a brother; but for them it is a souvenir or an attraction,” said Anakena Manutomatoma, who serves on the island’s development commission. “Once eyes are added to the statues, an energy is breathed into the moai and they become the living embodiment of ancestors whose role is to protect us.”
isnt the point of a museum to preserve history though? id prefer something be in a controlled environment than outside in the elements.
The moai have been standing JUST fine in the open in the island for literal centuries. Believe it or not, the Rapa Nui are NOT stupid; they know their island, how to live in it, and what materials and treatment to those materials do or do not last in the island they’ve called their home for ages. The moai are MADE to be “outside in the elements”.
And preserved for whom? I’m sure my ancestors wouldn’t feel it’s preservation to have a LIVING piece of their culture stolen by colonizers and kept away from them all this fucking long when I assure you, no one asked for their permission to take it in the first place.
That’s not fucking “preserving”, that’s just fucking stealing, and a loss of culture for the Rapa Nui.
Well then my God, every museum in the world should give all their artifacts back to the entitled people who want them.
Damn right they should give back all their STOLEN artifacts. How the fuck are you this fucking stupid that you’d call the people who MADE and are the rightful owners of those artifacts “entitled” WHEN THE ARTIFACTS BELONG TO THEM AND MUSEUMS
S
T
O
L
E
THEM.
It’s one thing if an item is given by the rightful owner of their own free will in the interest of sharing/preserving their culture. It’s an entirely different thing if we go to their country, think their stuff looks cool, take it without asking, and then refuse to give it back. To not see that requires a truly astounding amount of deliberate ignorance.
despite my many fantasies about it i just wouldn’t make it in the victorian era. i don’t have it in me. one of my close, ambiguously gay companions would tenderly brush a strand of hair back from my forehead, or hold my hand while rubbing their thumb over the back soothingly in a show of emotional support, or send me a heartfelt, affectionate letter lamenting our time apart and looking forward to our next meeting with dried flowers handpicked and pressed into the paper and i’d just end up sprawled over the nearest couch or draped languidly across my four-poster bed, letter still clutched loosely in one of my limp hands, sighing dramatically and succumbing to fits of weeping at irregular intervals until my concerned family were forced to call on the physician, who would take one look at me and instantly diagnose me with nervous hysteria, and lock me up in the attic of my own house to prevent me from inflicting myself on polite society or, even worse, writing poetry

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when cecil g. palmer said, “are we living a life that is safe from harm? of course not. we never have been. But that’s not the question. The question is, are we living a life that is worth the harm,”
yeah.