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A true story from 1928 with a few artistic embellishments.

(And starring my disaster boys Jack and Al, of course)

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good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

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I'm mister spine twister. I'm mister curves. I'm mister scoliosis. I'm mister Sitting Hurts

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why can you build up above the center of the Battle Royale and drop lava on people in the no build area. why can you get less points in the parkour map by finishing first than by finishing second.

ive been rewatching old minecraft videos like minecraft mondays and i cannot fucking believe people were complaining about how scuffed mcc was bc this event makes that look like the olympics

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tumblr guide for tiktok refugees:

1. on here. of having to use like and. there is a for here. of what into of is have a here. at least one have up a!

2. don't. is one of the in which of. this can be but into the that on this is, it's.

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olympic gold in hitting christian babies with a bat

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AYYYY OHHHHH I MISMANAGE-A THE WEBSITE I BAN-A THE TGIRLS

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Chapter 64: The Secret Art of Being Attractive

Here he is. The CEO of Sex himself. The Man. The Myth. The Legend. Sakata Kinta.

Tatsu himself said in a Viz interview that Kinta is one of his favorite characters. I like how Kinta starts as the stereotypical pervy otaku, but as the story develops, he becomes someone you want to root for and can even relate to, and that's something many people dismiss about Kinta by how he's introduced. Plus, he's just the biggest meme. Ten gallon wiener pure beef wang will never be unfunny to me.

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Marine life specialists noticed a spotted eagle ray mother was having trouble and helped her deliver two baby rays 

(Source)

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Hey. Your brain needs to de-frag. Literally it needs you to sit there and space out.

If you want your memory or executive function to improve, stare out a window at the skyline or sidewalk or trees or birds on the electrical wires for like 20+ minutes per day. (With no other stimulation like a podcast or TV if you can manage but hey baby steps innit). If you're fortunate enough to have safe outside with any bits of nature, go stare closely at a 1 meter square of grass and trip out on the bugs and shapes of grasses and stuff.

Literally this will make you smarter. Our brains HAVE TO HAVE this zone out time to do important stuff behind the scenes. This does not happen during sleep, it's something else.

That weird pressurized feeling you get sometimes might be your brain on no defrag.

Give your brain a Daily Dose Of De-Frag.

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Everybody shut the fuck up Dana Terrace is collabing with Glitch on a sci-fi psychological thriller along with the head writer and one of the storyboarders of TOH

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WHAT THE FUUUUUUCK ME ME ME ME ME ME

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So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.