Apr. 24th, 2017

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Apr. 24th, 2017 02:48 am
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voxapocrypha:

annabellioncourt:

yesterdaysprint:

The Coffeyville Weekly Journal, Kansas, December 8, 1899

This was 100% a callout posting about male authors.

shade
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Apr. 24th, 2017 03:08 am
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bluefall-returns:

phinarei:

aintnobodygottime4datshit:

tygermama:

mid-childan-puella-magi:

So, today, Marvel published issues of comics revealing that in fact the Nazis were always supposed to win World War 2, and the Allies invented the Cosmic Cube to rewrite history to prevent that from happening. 

That was released today. April 19th.

The anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, the largest Jewish revolt during World War 2, the first urban uprising in Nazi-occupied Europe, begun when the Nazis decided to completely wipe out the Warsaw Jews on Passover eve. Instead, the Jews held out for nearly a month, with whatever they could fight with. They’re honored to this day. 

And Marvel published their Nazi-stanning dumpster fire of a retcon today. 

so how many people on Marvel’s editorial board are white supremacists?

Fucking ridiculous

But no, the reason we all bailed was too much “diversity.”

There’s something more insidious going on here than just “the Nazis were supposed to win” and I think it needs examination.

And by that I mean let’s talk about Steve Rogers, Straight White Cis Man.

A lot of the early superheroes were very explicitly invested in social justice - Wonder Woman fights sexist dictators and empowers women, Superman goes undercover to bust the KKK and advocates for the working class. And of course it’s not that surprising that Superman, the explicitly Jewish-coded immigrant, or Wonder Woman, the female superhero in a world of men, strike out against the power structures that oppress the groups they represent; they stand to gain greatly, after all, from the freedom and elevation of their peers.

But Cap is a little different. Cap, actually, is a lot different, because Steve Rogers is a white man with blue eyes and blonde hair. Steve Rogers is not just physically fit and able-bodied, but an outright ubermensch who can tough out gunshot wounds and knock around cars. Steve Rogers would be treated like a goddamn king in Hitler’s Germany, he is literally everything they claim to love and want and honor. Steve does not stand to gain greatly by fighting Nazis. Steve stands to gain greatly by joining them. The only thing he, personally, can achieve by his battle is personal loss; at best, of institutional privilege over basically everyone he’ll ever meet, at worst, of his very life.

If you think it is an accident that two Jewish guys made this character the dedicated, justice-loving ultimate enemy of the Nazi state, I do not know what to tell you other than that you are hilariously, incomprehensibly, obviously wrong.

This is a guy who could have the bad guys eating out of his hand, but opposes them instead because it’s the right thing to do, full stop. No matter the cost, no matter what anyone else says he in particular should care about due to his own station, he’s going to help people instead of hurting them. Steve Rogers is not just a guy who punches Nazis, he is a promise to Jewish kids that Gentiles, too, can and will punch Nazis, and a reminder to Gentiles that just because they’re not Jewish is no excuse not to. More than that, even. He is a promise to every marginalized fan that yes, there really are allies who will fight for you all the way to the end. He is an example to every privileged fan that real heroism means being that ally for others, that it is not only possible but important and even imperative to defend the less privileged. If Diana teaches us that we can fight for ourselves, Steve teaches us that we can fight for others. And that is a kind of hope and inspiration that most superheroes never even get to pretend to.

And so think about what Spencer is saying, when he says that that isn’t real.

In Spencer’s new Cap universe, it is natural, inevitable, that a smart, strong, authoritative white dude would ally himself with Nazis. In Spencer’s universe, if you want a person with privilege on your side, if you want that person to actually put themselves at risk fighting on your behalf, you have to literally rewrite reality. Are you a person with privilege? Great, don’t worry about it, you have no obligation to give a shit, because no sketchy minority rabble-rouser has brainwashed you with a cosmic cube. Are you a minority rabble-rouser? You’re on your own, good fucking luck. Straight white cis dudes are your natural enemy, and since you live in the real world without cosmic cubes, there’s nothing you can do about it.

Spencer has taken a character created by two Jewish guys to explicitly say “you don’t have to be Jewish to care about Jewish people” and turned him into a character that instead very aggressively says “actually you do have to be Jewish to care about Jewish people. Race war is the Real World and that Steve is a fantasy.”

So, you know. Fuck him.
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ramenuzumaki:

so cute 😻😹(x)
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taavot:

remember being little and thinking dandelions were fun or a pretty color or something and every adult in an 80 mile radius wouldn’t let you say that without screaming ITS A WEED
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gretlusky:

More pages from my sketchbook :)

Instagram Deviantart Artstation Society6 Facebook 
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cow-mow:

@swordlesbianopinions
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sleeplesshowell:

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

fin.
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malaptica:

punmonster:

i always seem to follow all the nice people/ nice parts of the fandom

the bad parts of the fandom seem like some far off land that i only hear about through folklore and the tales of swarthy fishermen

#sometimes they float across my dash like a creature from the depths of hell tho
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punishandenslavesuckers:

punishandenslavesuckers:

Game Concept: You the player are some terrible god-like force and you pick an NPC at random to possess as the Player Character. All NPCs in-game react accordingly to the sudden possession depending on who you pick. You can pick any character with each fresh play through.

Example: You possess the mayor’s son and his family is grateful and humbled to have one of their bloodline chosen as Hero of the Land. If you pick the farmer’s daughter as the PC, her dad will be a game-long companion and come with you trying futilely to help/save his possessed daughter. You pick the town new comer and literally no one will try to help you at all except the farmer’s daughter who, in the play through, is not possessed and is very kind to you.

You still go on and fight the big bad as normal, but 99% of the drama is based around the interpersonal fall out of this small town tolerating you as a a weird spirit thing possessing someone they know in order to save the kingdom. 

See then the dialogue wheel would be you, as the spirit/force choosing how to play it: benevolent deity, neutral force, or demonic avatar. Or other weirdo dialogue choices to confuse ppl fallout style. Depending on how u wanna do it, your get everyone as your ally and try to save your host or just burn everyone.

Bonus game+ you can break the fourth wall and admit you’re a person playing a video game and try to get someone to believe you. Various trophies for giving every npc an existential crisis.
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Apr. 24th, 2017 04:49 am
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Apr. 24th, 2017 04:49 am
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Apr. 24th, 2017 04:54 am
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Apr. 24th, 2017 10:23 am
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charmeleon:

wow thats so funny thanks facebook
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Apr. 24th, 2017 01:08 pm
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aleatoryw:

lettersfromtitan:

imakegoodlifechoices:

Sometimes on the subway we time travel.

It’s the question mark that makes it exquisite.  The future is not an exact science.

Look we’re not exactly sure what day it is yet- but fuck if it isn’t a Monday
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itswalky:

don’t have to pay for a professional headshot if you become a hot meme
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theultravioletcatastrophe:

maestrobating:

There would have been a lot less death in the wild west if they had just built the towns big enough

“This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, pardner.”

“Well, I reckon we’re going to have to do sonething about that.”

“That’s right. Let’s head down to the zoning office.”

“Yeehaw!”
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unsettlingstories:

This cracked me up.

(Source.)
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gorlt:

brodays:

gorlt:

and, if you can’t get toasted pearl Couscous handpicked and blessed by a Moroccan shaman on the first tuesday of the winter harvest for your Sautéed Escarole then store bought is fine

The best thick cocks and young hung studs

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that’s not in the recipe
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Apr. 24th, 2017 05:39 pm
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cinquespotted:

your academic name is the name of the building where your department is housed + the academic word you overuse in your dissertation/thesis
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iriswestallen:

I spent a lot of my childhood trying to shun my Indian heritage to fit into school — anything to be like everyone else and not be bullied. I didn’t want to be different. And then I had this lightbulb moment when I went to Bombay at seventeen years old to shoot the film Slumdog Millionaire and I discovered this city with Danny Boyle. Every preconceived notion I had in my head was completely turned on its head and I fell in love. I was inspired. 

Happy 27th birthday, Dev Patel! (born April 23, 1990)
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smolperalta:

Q: “Are you as tough as Rosa in real life?”
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smolperalta:

jake peralta, bisexual human disaster

@heyguysiwrotesomething
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Awwww, thank you! :D Now I almost feel bad for asking you to answer all of them, ahahaha.
…HOW DO I PICK THOUGH

1. lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?
Definitely with my girlfriend Zia, cause this happens a lot and she’s three hours behind my time zone. She is a wonderful magical person and I never get tired of talking with her.

2. combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?
I tend to forgive but not forget. I hold onto things sometimes. I don’t think that’s super healthy, but at least I got the forgiving part down?

3. grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?
This makes my heart ache to write about. I would love to get a letter from my childhood best friend. We lost contact years ago and I tried to get back in touch with her and she gave me a short reply and nothing else, and I just can’t seem to get over it and I hate that. I just… want us to share our lives together again. I have dreams about her family all the time, even though it’s been around seven years since we last saw each other. It’s just something that hides in my heart that always aches.

4. beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?
ALL THE THINGS! If I had a job that allowed it, I’d totally go back to blue. I also kind of want to become cotton candy and be blue and pink.

5. old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?
How kinky I am lmao

6. white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?
Sometimes I’m too lazy to do any of this except take my medicine. But I TRY to: floss, brush my teeth, wash my face, use chemical exfoliant, moisturize, put on quiet video game music, take my medicine, and get cuddly in bed.

7. moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?
I did. I’m really lucky. My family is all wonderful and while I didn’t have a ton of friends in school, I also wasn’t really bullied or anything.
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yesterdaysprint:

The Tacoma Times, Washington, August 31, 1917
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thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

mythopoeticlicense:

mysticorset:

spatscolombo:

I just learned that Nichelle Nichols ad-libbed “sorry, neither” in rehearsals and they were only able to sneak it by the censors because it wasn’t in the script and—excuse me I’m overcome with happiness because my favorite Uhura line of all time was actually written by Uhura.

#I don’t need to be rescued #It’s such a great fucking line #On the top it’s the whole thing #And then there’s getting at the definitions #She’s not ‘fair’ ie white #Nor is she a maiden ie a virgin #Bless this line 

(via klingonrealitytelevision)

I have always loved how much everybody involved with TOS loved to fuck the system.

LEGENDARY
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robertcmmacgregor:

I met this woman named Mae. She’s a van driver for a production company. She works 14-hour days but says she doesn’t mind, says she keeps one eye on the road and the other on the prize — a paycheck that has to last through the dead months.

We’re driving through a poor stretch of Atlanta. Dirty streets. Old houses. Plastic toys upturned in front yards, no kids though. The neighborhood is quiet. I live in L.A., land of nannies and gardeners where the hills are alive with the sound of toddlers and leaf blowers. I prefer Atlanta. You can find parking at the grocery store in the middle of the day. In L.A. it doesn’t matter what time it is, the Trader Joe’s is packed with SAHs and WAHs (stay-at-homes and work-at-homes.)

We pass a decades-old Buick Skylark. I point it out.

“You into cars?” Mae asks.

I’m not into cars, but my dad and I once abandoned one of those Buicks on the side of a Florida highway when I was a teenager. That’s how my family did cars — we bought them on their last leg and left them where they died. I tell her how I’d come home from high school and there’d be nothing in the fridge but a bottle of red wine vinegar and a head of lettuce. On the counter, there’d be a bag of potatoes and a bottle of olive oil from the Dollar Store. That was dinner, potatoes and lettuce.

“I hear you,” she says. “We had ketchup sandwiches all the time growing up. We didn’t complain. We ate them.”

Mae’s voice is rich, melodic, it’s Maya Angelou meets Gladys Knight. I tell her about the time I borrowed red stirrup pants. (Remember stirrup pants from the 80s?) I borrowed them from my friend Marla. Her two older brothers drove Corvettes, one each. Marla drove a more sensible car for a 16-year-old, an Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. But it was new. And it was hers. She let me borrow the pants for a party in her neighborhood. (God knows I couldn’t go in my own shit clothes.) Long and short of it, the pants ripped in the calf. My mother wept like death had come, struggling with red thread, looking at me like I’d done the worst thing ever. Marla wanted $17 to replace them.

Mae invites me to sit up front with her. The traffic to my hotel is bad, we’re in for a haul. I switch out at the next red light.

“So her brothers drive corvettes?” Yup.

“One each?” Yup.

“Lord Almighty,” she says, “folks of privilege don’t understand how $17 can ruin you.”

Mae tells me how she’d come home from school and her mother would hustle her and her sisters upstairs to pick out clothes for the next day before the utilities cut off. Too many red notices.

I was poor in Florida. Mae’s from Detroit. I ask what she did to keep warm. “Poor kids just do what they gotta do. Privileged kids panic if they can’t have new this and new that, or if they can’t be on a sport team. Sports and heat, those are luxuries.”

I ask if she’s heard of John Prine, the folk singer. I sing his line: It’s a half an inch of water and you think you’re gonna drown. She howls, “Rich folks standing in a puddle screaming!”

I tell her about my parents shaking me awake in the middle of the night whispering, we have to go now. There’s a difference between going and getting out. What we were doing was getting out before morning, before the neighbors would see us evicted.

“I hear you,” she says. “Lord Almighty, I hear you.”

America loves helping the shoeless, iphoneless, voteless, bug-infested Street Jesuses. These are the lost-cause poor; all they want is your pocket change. (Bless their hearts.) But the working poor? Those who claim to not have enough money for food because they also need clothes for work, water for bathing and laundry, rent for housing, heat in the winter, money for daycare, a smartphone for their job, car insurance and gas — those are some shifty motherfuckers.

If you’re on food stamps America has every right to hate you, as evidenced by this angry conservative yelling at a father and child for using food stamps. This lady proves conservatives love a good hate like they love a good steak. I assume she thinks of herself as a nice person, a good person, a church-goer. We all think everyone else is the asshole, right? There isn’t a lot of self-directed road rage out there. How often do we key our own cars? It’s always okay to hate the other guy when the hate is justified — like child predators, rapists, and food stamp users.

Huddled round the Fox News campfire are those who love tall tales of poor people using tax dollars to buy drugs and alcohol and Gucci shoes. That’s not how it works. I’ve been on food stamps. The government doesn’t hand out wads of cash. When you qualify for food stamps you receive a plastic grocery card that only works for food transactions. Key word: qualify. You don’t just sign up. It’s not a tennis lesson at the club. What’s scary about the woman in the video is that she sees what’s in the dad’s cart (food for his kid) and she hates him for it.

Stupid fucking poor people. If only we’d been engineer majors in college. If only we’d gone to college. If only our parents hadn’t been poor. If only they spoke English. If only we worked harder. If only we were more like conservatives who believe everything they have today is a direct result from the sweat of their own brow.

When looking at a spider’s web can you point to the 8th spun web, or the 108th? There are those who claim this astounding ability — those who take full credit for crafting, spin by spin, a better life than ours, a life without aid. If you had help paying for college, if someone bought you your first car, if you had health insurance growing up, if your mom never cried over $17, you were lucky. The Hail Mary toss of birth landed you in a family that could put you on a soccer team and buy cleats as your foot grew. And someone was home to help you with your math and give you a gummy vitamin each morning. That’s called aid, by the way. And not all kids get it, but all kids should.

Don’t confuse aid with charity. Charity is old coats. Donating a coat doesn’t make you a good person but I bet it makes you feel like one. You didn’t even want that coat anymore, what you wanted was the closet space. Sure, you could have sold it at a garage sale and made, like, twenty bucks. It was an expensive coat, damn it. But you, with your heart of gold, gave it away. There’s a twinkle in God’s eye just for you.

What makes you a good person to others (and not just to yourself) is the same thing that makes me, or anyone who can afford the occasional $12 cocktail, a good person: Your vote. Not your coat.

Vote for a Living Wage for others. Vote for health insurance for others. Don’t get in the way of food stamps for others. Understand how important $17 might be to others. That poor stretch of Atlanta is quiet because people are working and paying for day care. They’re clocking the same hours you’re clocking, but they make a shit wage.

Take a good long look at your feet. If you were born at the starting line wearing a nice pair of running shoes, that was luck. Sheer luck. The most important thing you can do now is help those who had to start the race a mile behind you, barefoot.
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spinejackel:

I recently found my “gold” hammer after misplacing it. It’s my favorite tool ever because it looks like a regular hammer trying to be fancy,

but then you twist both halves and unscrew it to find a flat-head screwdriver in the middle.

BUT, if you twist the very end and unscrew that

you find a phillips screwdriver.

BUT DON’T THINK THAT’S ALL THERE IS! THERE’S MORE!! unscrew the very end again to find a smaller flat-head screwdriver!

BUT THAT’S STILL NOT THE END!!

unscrew the end of this screwdriver to find a final, teeny tiny, flat-head screwdriver

look at how cute it is!

it’s like a matryoshka doll of tools.
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pentomic:

on this day, I would like to commemorate the extensive Jewish resistance that existed in almost every Nazi-occupied nation. from the streets of Warsaw, where Jewish resistance perplexed and bewildered the Nazis so much that a top German general lost his job because of it (and where we inadvertently inspired the Warsaw Uprising) to Sobibor, where Jews killed SS guards and burned a death camp to the ground, enraging the Nazis so much that they ordered the camp’s remains bulldozed into the ground, to Treblinka, where Jews escaped through the barbed wire into freedom and managed to survive to meet the Red Army the next year.

Jews did not go passively into the gas chambers. Abba Kovner, Mordechai Anielewicz, the Bielski brothers, and many others ensured that. 

the image will always live in my mind: during the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, a Jewish woman armed with two pistols approached General Jurgen Stroop’s command group and opened fire. Stroop’s flame troops set her on fire, but she continued shooting until she collapsed. as Stroop walked over to gloat, she spat on his shoes. 

Jews have always fought for freedom.
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emigrejukebox:

Frans Lanting: A baby albatross is weighed in South Georgia, 1989
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cafab:

server at ihop: what would you like to order

me: waffles~ x3 random thought i had rofl o_o
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