#human? human it looks as if you're trying to take a photo of george

[ladyshinga]

I keep being told to "adapt" to this new AI world.

Okay.

Well first of all, I've been training myself more and more how to spot fake images. I've been reading every article with a more critical eye to see if it's full of ChatGPT's nonsense. I've been ignoring half the comments on stuff just assuming it's now mostly bots trying to make people angry enough to comment.

When it comes to the news and social issues, I've started to focus on and look for specific journalists and essayists whose work I trust. I've been working on getting better at double-checking and verifying things.

I have been working on the biggest part, and this one is a hurdle: PEOPLE. People whose names and faces I actually know. TALKING to people. Being USED to talking to people. Actual conversations with give and take that a chat bot can't emulate even if their creators insist they can.

All of this combined is helping me survive an AI-poisoned internet, because here's what's been on my mind:

What if the internet was this poisoned in 2020?

Would we have protested after George Floyd?

A HUGE number of people followed updates about it via places like Twitter and Tiktok. Twitter is now a bot-hell filled with nazis and owned by a petulant anti-facts weirdo, and Tiktok is embracing AI so hard that it gave up music so that its users can create deepfakes of each other.

Would information have traveled as well as it did? Now?

The answer is no. Half the people would have called the video of Floyd's death a deepfake, AI versions of it would be everywhere to sew doubt about the original, bots would be pushing hard for people to do nothing about it, half the articles written about it would be useless ChatGPT garbage, and the protests themselves… might just NOT have happened. Or at least, they'd be smaller - AND more dangerous when it comes to showing your face in a photo or video - because NOW what can people DO with that photo and video? The things I mentioned earlier will help going forward. Discernment. Studying how the images look, how the fake audio sounds, how the articles often talk in circles and litter in contradictory misinformation. and PEOPLE.

PEOPLE is the biggest one here, because if another 2020-level event happens where we want to be protesting on the streets by the thousands, our ONLY recourse right now is to actually connect with people. Carefully of course, it's still a protest, don't use Discord or something, they'll turn your chats over to cops.

But what USED to theoretically be "simple" when it came to leftist organizing ("well my tweet about it went viral, I helped!") is just going to require more WORK now, and actual personal communication and connection and community. I know if you're reading this and you're American, you barely know what that feels like and I get it. We're deprived of it very much on purpose, but the internet is becoming more and more hostile to humanity itself. When it comes to connecting to other humans… we now have to REALLY connect to other humans

I'm sorry. This all sucks. But adapting usually does.

[coral-island-player]

Spark's other parent

I know the identity of Spark's other parent. Long post under the cut

Ok, so this is about a game called Cattails Wildwood Story. I wholeheartedly recommend it, it's sometimes described as "stardew valley but cats" and while there is no farming, the relationship system is quite similar, and maybe even better in some aspects (dialogue for every relationship stage which is 12 if you marry the npc, specific dialogue for when your hunger or health is low, getting gifts, you have a birthday, etc.). But if you're reading this, you probably already know all that! So, let's get into it.

So, the identity of Spark's other parent has never been explicitly confirmed, however I have a strong theory on who it may be.

Often it is speculated that Spark's other parent is a member of the Forest Colony. Or another colony. And while it seems likely, there is one singular piece of dialogue from Ember, which you get at 3 hearts, that puts all that into question.

"I spent some time as a house cat, (Name). Well, sort of. The humans let me come and go as I pleased, but they always left out food for me. It was a decent life, but I could never go back to it. That's when I met my ex. Too many bad memories associated with that time in my life."

So from that dialogue we find out that Ember used to be a house cat and that they met their ex partner and the other parent of Spark during that time. Is there a game where Ember is a house cat and we can find out more about them?

Well, there is.

So, for those of you who are familiar with the Warrior Cats book series (and that's probably 99% of Cattails players. It's not needed to enjoy or understand it, as even the game developer hasn't read it, just the field guides because his little sister wanted a game about her favourite book, but worth a try if you want to understand how Cattails became what it is today), you might have heard of a game Warrior Cats Untold Tales.

It's a game that was made by the Cattails developer. For those of you who haven't heard of it, it's an old game that you can download on your computer for free. It's very low quality when it comes to graphics and gameplay, but hey. It's better that 99.9% of what you can find on mobile for free. It's basically a very early version of Cattails when it comes to mechanics. If you take Cattails and take away Stardew Valley, you're pretty much left with a higher quality version of WC:UT. It's an oversimplification and obviously Cattails is more that the combination of these games. Just trying to give you a general idea what it's like. It's worth a try - after all, it is free. There will be spoilers here for the part with Ember - because as you probably can tell, they are in the game.

So, as you play the game, you might encounter a cat named - yeah you guessed it - Ember. They're a kittypet (the clan cats' name for a house cat) and willing to show you their house and let you visit them and possibly live there if you pay 40 reputation points (representing the fact that it's dishonorable for a clan cat to accept anything from humans). Now if it wasn't for that one piece of dialogue, I'd just think that it doesn't take place in the same universe - but given what Ember said, it probably does.

When you visit Ember, you find out they live with an owner named George and a little kitten named Fuzzy who you can play hide and seek with. But you can also find a passage to BloodClan (for those of you who don't know, it's a group of street cats that are kinda evil and look like Charlotte). There is one cat that is white (unfortunately I couldn't find a high quality photo, just look up "warrior cats untold tales thrash"). His (that's right, that cat is referred to as "he") name is Thrash (not a typo, that's legit his name. I was today years old when I found out his name isn't Trash) and he can actually live with you and Ember and Fuzzy! If you let him live in the owner's closet, he will give you something every day, but Fuzzy won't play hide and seek with you anymore because Thrash is mean and Fuzzy is upset that you let him in the house.

So, it is plausible that Thrash and Ember fell in love when that happened and had a kitten. Now, I have no idea how Ember got to the Forest Colony, but I am almost certain that Thrash is Spark's father.

Also that means that Spark is half BloodClan (unlike Charlotte)

[jonasgoonface]

Happy anniversary of Willem Van Spronsen's attack on the Tacoma ICE detention center. Here's a thing I drew a while back. Here's a manifesto that he wrote, it's v good. ------

What follows is the written manifesto of Willem Van Spronsen:

there's wrong and there's right. it's time to take action against the forces of evil. evil says one life is worth less than another. evil says the flow of commerce is our purpose here. evil says concentration camps for folks deemed lesser are necessary. the handmaid of evil says the concentration camps should be more humane. beware the centrist.

i have a father's broken heart i have a broken down body and i have an unshakable abhorrence of injustice. that is what brings me here. this is my clear opportunity to try to make a difference, i'd be an ingrate to be waiting for a more obvious invitation.

i follow three teachers: don pritts, my spiritual guide, "love without action is just a word." john brown, my moral guide, "what is needed is action!" emma goldman, my political guide, "if i can't dance, i don't want to be in your revolution."

i'm a head in the clouds dreamer, i believe in love and redemption. i believe we're going to win i'm joyfully revolutionary. (we all should have been reading emma goldman in school instead of the jingo drivel we were fed. but i digress.) (we should all be looking at the photos of the YJP heroes should we falter and think our dreams are impossible, but i double digress. fight me.)

in these days of fascist hooligans preying on vulnerable people on our streets, in the name of the state or supported and defended by the state,

in these days of highly profitable detention/concentration camps and a battle over the semantics, in these days of hopelessness, empty pursuit and endless yearning,

we are living in visible fascism ascendant. (i say visible, because those paying attention watched it survive and thrive under the protection of the state for decades [see howard zinn, "a people's history of the united states.") now it unabashedly follows its agenda with open and full cooperation from the government. from governments around the world.

fascism serves the needs of the state serves the needs of business and at your expense. who benefits? jeff bezos, warren buffet, elon musk, tim cook, bill gates, betsy de vos, george soros, and need i go on? let me say it again: rich guys, (who think you're not really all that good,) really dig government, (every government everywhere, including "communist" governments,) because they make rules that make rich guys richer.

simple. don't overthink it.

(are you patriots in the back paying attention?)

when i was a boy, in post war holland, later france, my head was filled with stories of the rise of fascism in the 30's. i promised myself that i would not be one of those who stands by as neighbors are torn from their homes and imprisoned for somehow being perceived as lesser. you don't have to burn the motherfucker down, but are you just going to stand by?

this is the test of our fundamental belief in real freedom and our responsibility to each other. this is a call to patriots, too, to stand against this travesty against everything that you hold sacred. i know you. i know that in your hearts, you see the dishonor in these camps. it's time for you, too, to stand up to the money pulling the strings of every goddamn puppet pretending to represent us.

i'm a man who loves you all and this spinning ball so much that i'm going to fulfill my childhood promise to myself to be noble.

here it is, in these corporate for profit concentration camps. here it is, in brown and non conforming folks afraid to show their faces for fear of the police/migra/proud boys/the boss/beckies... here it is, a planet almost used up by the market's greed.

i'm a black and white thinker. detention camps are an abomination. i'm not standing by. i really shouldn't have to say any more than this.

i set aside my broken heart and i heal the only way i know how- by being useful. i efficiently compartmentalize my pain... and i joyfully go about this work. (to those burdened with the wreckage from my actions, i hope that you will make the best use of that burden.)

to my comrades:

i regret that i will miss the rest of the revolution. thank you for the honor of having me in your midst.

giving me space to be useful, to feel that i was fulfilling my ideals, has been the spiritual pinnacle of my life.

doing what i can to help defend my precious and wondrous people is an experience too rich to describe.

my trans comrades have transformed me, solidifying my conviction that we will be guided to a dreamed of future by those most marginalized among us today. i have dreamed it so clearly that i have no regret for not seeing how it turns out. thank you for bringing me so far along.

i am antifa, i stand with comrades around the world who act from the love of life in every permutation. comrades who understand that freedom means real freedom for all and a life worth living.

keep the faith! all power to the people! bella ciao

don't let your silly government agencies spend money "investigating" this one. i was radicalized in civics class at 13 when we were taught about the electoral college. it was at that point that i decided that the status quo might be a house of cards. further reading confirmed in the positive. i highly recommend reading! i am not affiliated with any organization, i have disaffiliated from any organizations who disagree with my choice of tactics. the semi automatic weapon i used was a cheap, home built unregistered "ghost" ar15, had six magazines. i strongly encourage comrades and incoming comrades to arm themselves. we are now responsible for defending people from the predatory state. ignore the laws of arming yourself if you have the luxury, i did.

[finkinthisfrew]

Anything (Pt.20)

Chapter 20 "No, I want the pink one!" Matty said as I reached for a toothbrush. I rifled through all the options, finding a pink one near the back, taking it and tossing it into the shopping basket Matty carried. "Let's get you a pink one too to keep at my place. That way we'll match," he said excitedly. I smiled at him and he swiftly kissed my cheek.

We walked further down the aisle of the pharmacy, grabbing various other toiletries for us to keep at each other's homes when we stayed over. I didn't mind sharing my toothbrush with Matty, in fact, I kind of loved it, but considering we were almost always running late for things, it made more sense for us to have our own from a time-saving perspective.

We spent the rest of the afternoon together after I'd found out about the article. Matty didn't want to leave me alone, and I didn't think I'd be able to get much work done in my emotional state, so I went with him to the studio. George and Adam were there recording guitar for a new track and immediately came over to apologize and offer their support as soon as we arrived. I begged them to ignore my presence and get back to recording- I didn't want this stupid article to interrupt anyone else's life. They hesitated at first but obliged respectfully, George sitting back down at the mixing board, Adam going back to the live room. Matty held me on the couch in the control room, listening and offering feedback every now and then, kissing my head in between takes. He didn't let go of me once. After a few hours of this, I started to feel normal again, so we walked to the pharmacy by Matty's house on the way home.

"So explain it to me again... what does your publicist want us to do, and why don't you want to do it?" I asked, confused, as he scoured the shelves for his brand of body wash.

"He wants us to stage a barbeque with my family, and then to call the paparazzi to take photos of us as we're leaving," he huffed in annoyance, chucking a bottle into the basket as we continued to stroll down the aisle.

"That seems easy enough, but what's the point of doing that?" I asked.

"They want to make us look more wholesome. If you and I both look more like family-orientated goodie-two-shoes then it'll make the public look at us less like heathens and more like shining examples of properly behaved celebrities," Matty said stopping to look at me, the last few words soaked with sarcasm.

"But you don't want to behave..." I teased, pressing a finger into his chest.

He took my finger and kissed the tip of it, the corners of his mouth still turned down into a frown. Still holding my finger, he dropped our hands to his chest. "In a nutshell, no... I just don't want to play into this bullshit publicity stuff, it's soul-sucking. They try to demonize me in the tabloids all the time, and I'm expected to dance around and prove to people that I'm some angel that I'm not. I'm flawed as much, if not more, than the rest of them. But what's the point of being human if you can't be one? Do you know what I mean?"

I pulled his hand towards my face and kissed the tip of his finger in return. "...I think so," I nodded slowly. "You don't want to pretend you haven't done the things you've done and that you aren't the person you are. They're draining all the context out and leaving just the bare bones of it all. And humans aren't just bones. They're flesh and blood and heart and soul..." I trailed off, analyzing our now interlaced fingers. "Sorry, I'm not sure that makes sense." I looked up to see Matty staring at me with his eyes wide, shaking his head.

"No, that's exactly what I'm trying to say. You said it perfectly," he said in awe. "Are you sure you're not a celebrity too?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at me playfully.

I laughed. "Well, I am now," I said, rolling my eyes as I dropped his hand, then groaning into Matty's chest. He put his free arm around me, kissing the top of my head.

"I know, I'm sorry, love..."

"Above anything, I just wish it didn't make me feel so paranoid..." I said grumpily as we turned down the next aisle. "Now, I have to get done up enough to look nice, but also cover myself head to toe like some nun so that I don't offend anyone with my body. I feel like now I'm going to have a full mental breakdown every time I try to leave the house..." I said, plucking a tube of mascara from the wall and chucking it into the basket.

Matty promptly picked it up and hung it back on the wall. "You don't have to get done up for anyone. I won't let you change a single thing about yourself because of those stupid idiots. You don't have to do yourself up, cover up, put anything on or take anything off." He stepped in front of me to face him fully, putting his hand on my shoulder for emphasis. "You are perfect the way you are, and I won't allow anyone, especially not some dumb tabloid, to change you."

My heart broke. He was so fiercely supportive of who I was, it made me want to cry. "Thank you, baby," I said as we gazed at each other lovingly, "...but I do still need that mascara, I ran out yesterday."

He froze, then started to laugh. My skin tingled at the sound, it made me so happy.

We continued down the aisle, grabbing a couple of bags of chips for the movie night we decided to have tonight in an effort to unwind.

As we finished scanning the last few items at self-checkout, I opened my mouth to say something, closing it quickly in doubt. He caught me. "What? Oh please don't keep things from me, darling," he said as he finished paying for our haul, taking a bag in each hand.

I took one of the bags, replacing it quickly with my own hand before he could protest. I smiled at him knowingly, and he sighed in defeat as he shook his head, smiling back at me. We strolled out of the pharmacy onto the rosy street, the sunset staining everything around us pink.

"Out with it, then," Matty said. I turned to see him raising his eyebrows at me.

I knew I wasn't going to get away with pretending it was nothing, and it had already been eating away at me most of the day, so I caved. "I was thinking of deleting my Instagram account," I confessed.

Matty halted us to a stop, his nostrils suddenly flaring, his arms tensing, and his chest puffing in anger. "I swear to god, I'm going to get the person who wrote this article fired," he snarled.

"Hey," I said soothingly, letting go of his hand to cup his cheek. He calmed immediately at my touch, his eyes dropping to mine in sadness.

"I'm sorry darling, but the idea that they've made you to feel like you have to hide... To delete your Instagram?" he said, dejectedly.

"It's not that I feel like I need to hide, it's just... I don't know how to handle all these hate comments..." I said, moving my hand to his chest, dropping my gaze. "The whole point of the account is to promote my art, so if I go private then it just becomes pointless. But I don't know if it's worth it to keep it if it's just going to become a message board for the 'Fuck Matty's Whore Girlfriend' club," I said, rolling my eyes in frustration.

"Darling..." he said sadly, putting his arm around my waist.

"And..." I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. I took a deep breath. "Well, earlier today... Lucas left a comment that really upset me." I felt Matty's body tense under my hand as I continued. "He said... well, he said something really awful... And I don't like the idea of him being able to contact me like that anymore..."

"What did he say?" Matty asked mouth tight. I avoided his eyes, and he asked again, fighting to stay calm. "Anna, please tell me."

"He said... he said something about me fucking you for fame, but that I won't fuck the man I love... and then called me a pathetic slut..."

The bag in Matty's hand suddenly dropped on the ground, emphasized by a sharp inhale. "I'll kill him..." Matty growled angrily before looking down at me and noticing the tears welling in my eyes. His face immediately softened. "Oh, angel..."

"I just wish he'd stop haunting me... I move on and he's still here, fucking me over..." I whispered weakly, burying my face in Matty's chest. "I hate that he still has power over me..." 

Matty wrapped both his arms around me, and we stood there silently, steeping in our sadness.

"You're so much stronger than you realize, Anna... Your capacity for love, after what you've been through... I've never known someone so brave, so strong..." he whispered in my ear.

"Thank you, Matty..." I said tearfully."I just... I don't feel like that sometimes..."

"It's okay," he said gently."I'll feel it for both of us until you can too."

My heart swelled. He stood there holding me until I gathered myself together. Matty picked up the fallen bag, then took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and we continued towards his apartment.

"Thank you for telling me," Matty said sincerely, squeezing my hand.

"Of course. I only hesitated because I don't like talking about it... but I don't have any secrets with you. I trust you. Completely." I said firmly.

Matty smiled at me, squeezing my hand.

"So... what do you think I should do?" I asked Matty.

"Well, we can approach this however you want. But if you want to know what I think... I think you should just continue on like nothing happened. Turn off your notifications and just post what you want. I'll give my team your login info, they'll delete all the hate comments and keep on top of them."

"And what about your image?" I asked tentatively.

"My image I could care less about. Our image though..." he paused, thoughtfully. "I think that our relationship is simply none of their business. I'll have my team decline all requests for comment. We'll go completely silent, and if they want to speculate and start rumours, so be it."

We rounded the corner onto Matty's street. "Do you really think that's a good idea? Better than just telling people straight up that we're in a serious relationship?" I asked timidly.

Matty turned and smiled at me.

I smiled back, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"I like that you said we're in a serious relationship..." he said, grinning ear to ear, cheeks flushed with happiness.

"Well... aren't we?" I asked, laughing nervously.

"Of course we are," Matty said, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me in. "I just love hearing you say it," he said before kissing my cheek.

I smiled to myself, then leaned into him as we walked up to his front door.

"But yes, as long as you're comfortable with it, then I think it's our best option for now. Letting people speculate and staying silent is the biggest power move. No matter what we do, they'll read into it somehow and flip it back on us. They always do... So I say we let the internet gorge itself on theories- let the monster feed itself. Eventually, it'll get bored and they'll move on. Then we can figure out our next move..." he said with a sigh, fiddling with his keys, then unlocking the door.

We climbed the steps and I mulled over what Matty said. It made a lot of sense, and it definitely seemed like the most mature way to approach it all, but I'd never truly understood how much thought had to go into publicity as a celebrity until now. 

"It already all seems so exhausting," I said thoughtfully as we reached the top of the stairs, kicking off my shoes and walking down the hall and into the living space. Matty followed suit.

"How do you mean?" Matty asked, flopping onto the couch, then stretching his arms out towards me, inviting me in.

I lay down on his chest, his arms enveloping me. I listened to the sound of his heart beating, its rhythmic pattering grounding me as he rubbed my back.

"Having to constantly think about what to do next, how everyone will respond, and if they do respond, how to respond to that... I've only been thinking about it for a day and I'm already exhausted by it all- I don't know how you do this every day." I said, voicing my train of thought as I began to get heated, "-and what's insane is that none of these people realize what's really happening. Or they do and they just don't care. These news outlets get rid of all context and whittle these things down into juicy headlines and people gobble them up blindly! And nobody cares because to them you're just a pretty picture to look at and criticize," I said sadly, my heart breaking as I started to understand Matty's complex life. I looked up at Matty who was listening attentively. My voice broke with sadness. "That must be so sad... To constantly be demonized for simply living... and to have no one actually care about your life. Your context."

Matty smiled sadly at me, his eyes glistening. "... so maybe now you understand why I love you so fucking much."

"Oh babe, I love you too," I sighed, cupping his cheek as my heart broke a little more.

He leaned his face deeper into my hand. "You see me, Anna. In a way no one ever has, truly. And not only do you see me, but you somehow like what you see..." He shook his head to himself. "I'm so incredibly lucky... not every celebrity has that," he said, his voice soaked in sincerity. "It's not all so bad though, really. I have you. I have the boys, and my family, my friends. The people who matter most know."

"You deserve so much better though..." I said angrily, shaking my head in frustration.

"C'est la vie," Matty said, shrugging his shoulders. 

"There must be something we can do... something to throw them off- make them reflect and actually think about this..." I grumbled.

"Maybe..." Matty said, sighing deeply. "I'll have my fun with them eventually... but for now, I want to have fun with you," he said, kissing my hand, then grabbing the remote from the coffee table. "Is that alright?" he asked sweetly. I nodded, then nuzzled my face into his chest, seeking the comfort of his beating heart once again.

Matty turned on a movie, absentmindedly running his fingers through my hair while I festered in my anger, wondering how I could help the situation. By the time we turned on a second movie, I stopped stewing and focused on Matty's commentary, letting his soothing voice wash over me, his laugh cleansing me of my remaining anger. We lay there cuddling deep into the night watching movie after movie, eventually falling asleep in each other's arms.

[monkberries]

I have a late hot take Tuesday take: Ringo is the real PR Beatle. I have nothing against the guy but I have noticed nothing sticks to him in the way it does for the others. Reading Beatles bios, he's often described as the least communicative and even stand-offish. In many photos and videos, including Get Back, he looks like he's having the worst time of his life. There's been rumors over the years of him being grumpy to fans, not paying well, and there's the infamous "peace and love no more autographs" video. In his individual parts of Anthology he's subdued, monotone, and serious. And YET. Who has the reputation for being the stick-in-the-mud? George.

He outright admitted to almost beating Barbara to death and it sounds like the last years with Maureen got dicy yet who is known as the wife-beater? John.

Paul doing stuff for kids and playing up to cameras is cringe. Ringo doing it is charming. While Paul's response to John's death was awkward, Ringo came across as admirably vulnerable. Paul dying his hair? Pathetic. Ringo? You mean the guy who's somehow looked the same for 30 years?

He moved to Monaco to avoid taxes, was regularly photographed with different women, was one of the most notorious partiers in the 70s, has questionable political opinions, and was drunk in pretty much every 80s appearance but he narrated Thomas the Tank Engine, sang Yellow Submarine and loved his old bandmates so he maintains this cuddly approachable image. Ringo is down-to-earth!

His twitter is also a masterclass in PR.

That's not to say I think the way Ringo expresses his feelings is calculated or that all of this was necessarily intentional but I don't believe it's an accident either. So it's not fair Paul is the only one called out on it.

Wow this was an essay. Sorry. lmao

i know you're not trying to cancel him, and not to dunk on you, anon, because i love that you sent this (an Actual For Real Hot Take), but this reads a little like a Your Fave Is Problematic callout post where "nearly beating his wife to death" sits alongside innocuous things like "quit the band and went on vacation" lmao

i mean, i do totally agree with your point as a whole that ringo gets away with a lot in terms of his public image. he definitely does. i feel like of all of them, ringo gets talked about like a rounded complex human being the least.

[beverleyngalas-blog]

The Importance of Photographing War and Suffering

Don Mcullin (Young chritsian Youth Celebrating Death of Palestinian Girl, Beirut, 1976)

Don Mcullin is a photojournalist who has been working for 50 years.

In this picture, children are seen standing near a corpse of a dead girl. A Palestinian girl. In a New york times article Don Mcculin states, “They said If you don't go we’re going to kill you” he also added, “ as I was going But as I was going i heard music and these boys were shouting mister mister take a picture and I thought christ i've got to go and I didnt even take an exposure reading”. By this quote Don Mcculins imagery captures that very moment with very little thought of the aesthetics and the perfection of the image. His work is very real and raw. At his Tate exhibition Don Mcullin says, “I’ve many times been right up to the precipice, not even a foot or an inch away. That’s the only place to be if you’re going to see and show what suffering really means…”

Phillip Jones Grifith American soldier offering water to a severely wounded Vietcong fighter 1968

In this image Americans are offering water to a Vietnamese fighter. This act shows how humanity can still be found in the most tragic of times. Phillip Jones Griffiths was another photo journalist who captured conflict. He is more widely known for his images from the Vietnam war He doesn't consider himself a traditional war photographer; he believes that ,“journalists should be by their very nature anarchists, people who point out things that are not generally approved of.” Phillip Jones Griffiths believes we have a lot of lessons to learn not just about war and killing people but how social systems are trying to take over the world. In his book Vietnam inc he accounts the war and exposes what went on and ultimately helped in ending the Vietnam war and changed the opinions of the public in American states. “Photographers are either mud people or sand people and I’m a mud person” Griffiths also stated, “I realized what we were being told couldn't possible be true and I decided I was going to be the one to know what was really going on”

Adam Ferguson Afghanistan, 2009 “As a photographer, you feel helpless. Around you are medics, security personnel, people doing good work. It can be agonizingly painful to think that all you're doing is taking pictures.”

In the above image, shown is a suicide bombing and the woman is being escorted. In Adam Ferguson witnessed flames, bodies and explosions “it was still very fresh and there was a risk of another bomb” he also states “ it was one of those situations where you have to put your fear aside and focus at the job at hand to watch the situation and document it” Adam Fergusus did not want to make the soldiers look like heroes and make the fight in Afghanistan look like a noble fight.

What all the above photographers have in common is the fact that they want the viewer to feel something when they look at the images.

George Strock Three dead Americans, killed during the fight to take Buna Beach from the occupying Japanese forces, Papua New Guinea, 1943.

Other photographers refused to stay and photograph the Battle of Buna but George strock stayed. In the Island George Stock had to live amongst the soldiers; they didn't have time to bury the dead either because they were fighting. At the time the Image was to be Censored because the showing of dead Americans was socially unacceptable but LIFE (the Picture collection company) raised the issue to the government and President Franklin Rosevelt himself thought the public needed to see the harsh realities of war. George Strock Nearly died twice during his mission in New guinea “when I took pictures I wanted to bring the viewer into the scene” George Stock is one of the few photographers that risked their lives by taking pictures “two photographers left after taking their first taste of fire” The Battle of Bunna is described as being as bloody as World war Two conflicts unfortunately no names of the lives losts are within public knowledge. Q

Alexander Gardner Home of a Rebel Sharpshooter 1865 “What visions, of loved ones far away, may have hovered above his stony pillow! What familiar voices may he not have heard, like whispers beneath the roar of battle, as his eyes grew heavy in their long, last sleep!”

In some bizarre cases, war photography can be staged. This was practiced during the civil war as the growing popularity of war photography increased, photographers aimed to capture the most emotive picture as they could. They would add props or even move bodies to achieve these. Photo manipulation is something practiced to this day but not as chilling as what Alexander Gardner has been claimed to have practiced. In 1895 an assistant to the gardener had heard how the photographer works. Because travel wasn't like today in the Civil War, photographers would have arrived at Battles once it was all over. Only Carcesus would have been left behind as a result, they would move the bodies and pose them in ways to look believable and add props.

[mantra4ia]

Debris: speculation and what we know so far about...

Bryan

The character is from Texas, has no siblings, and his parents are both alive.

He served in MARSOC (Marine Special Forces) in Afghanistan, where he was in a military prison in some capacity (officer or detainee unclear, but an alternate reality he's called a war criminal, so he's likely detained).

FWIW, I'm a little surprised that in an alternative reality Bryan wasn't a part of Influx. He shares a similar kind of backstory with Anson Ash.

He carries a baseball on the plane like a momento stress ball (1x03).

He eats...a lot, literally thinks with his stomach, seemingly indiscriminately (#you could just pull up a chair to the buffet). Stale Peeps, weeks old sandwiches, rewarmed burritos, anything from the minibar, etc. Maybe he was a smoker in the time before and it killed his sense of taste. Or he just has an iron stomach from his time on active duty. In any case, food seems to be his unconditional OTP. I request a GIF supercut.

He seems to know a bunch of field operatives (Lester, Sharon, John the ME, Muntz, Beck from containment) from various Orbital teams, perhaps even worked cases with a few, along with everyone in Maddox's office. He's very cordial so presumably he likes them, but in stark contrast at least half seem to decidedly dislike him with baiting antagonism, some openly hostile. Sharon: "why are you smirking at me Bryan?" Muntz, the Laghari lab tech: "I've come across plenty like you...men who play by their own rules." Beck: "They only send in the A-team when they want the agents to survive...easy for you to say, I'm the one who had to tell his wife". No wonder he feels a bit ostracized. Perhaps his reputation (impulsive?) proceeds him or perhaps he's been labeled an "unlucky" partner that misfortune follows so he gets kept at a distance?

The exception to the above seems to be Gary Garcia, the former scientist that helps hide George. May be former partners if the audio during credit rolls is any indication, and knows about Bryan's health / injections. They appear close. Perhaps because they share a mentality: both presumably injured in their line of work at Orbital, and they know what it means to have to rely on yourself.

When we meet Finola and Bryan, it seems like they've been working together for a few weeks, stateside at least (Finola's quote 1x02: Been here 3 weeks, feels like 3 years) and that he's had at least two Orbital partners prior, one (Julian / Jules) that died on duty, and the other creepy Dutch guy still living, Niels. How many more partners has he been through? Is it protocol that they get reassigned/shuffled so often to follow the debris, or so as not to form attachments "This job is about being alone, it's supposed to be...we're a blip in other people's lives", or does his personality not play well with others, like from the pilot when he tells Finola "it's been a long time since I've worked with somebody who's looked at me like another human being."

Also in 1x01 when Bryan says, "So are we now saying the debris pulled [Kieran] from the ground and added meat to his bones" and Finola says no, he was cremated, Bryan looks almost disappointed like he was momentarily more hopeful than pragmatic. At first I thought this was just a lead up to introducing the fact that George Jones was alive, but maybe another plot point is that Bryan has lost someone in duty he wants back.

He carries a picture in his front pocket of a woman with some Persian/ Farsi(?) or Urdu(?) written on the back. It's hard to tell by the script, it could be neither. When confronted by that, his clone says "I can't let it go." Old flame that was lost? Or a partner of a fallen service member killed in action —I've lost brothers— that he couldn't save (is that part of Bryan's dark guilt / grief)? Civilian casualty of a Marine mission? In the pilot when he tells Isla "you have to tell her how much you need her, I know from experience...You will not be able to forgive yourself if you don't" is Bryan thinking of this woman?

EDIT: considering the next episode is called "Asalah," which could be a woman's name, maybe that's part of the text on the back of the photo. Pure speculation.

He counts on himself to be level and composed when it comes to his emotions and apologizes when he isn't. He loses that composure in the pilot when Isla talks about family therapy and fighting with her mother after Kieran's death: "I knew someone like her once." Was Bryan referring to himself, has he been through post-service therapy? Perhaps he developed a rift with his family or left home at an early age like she did?

Bryan would be great at pub trivia night. He always seems to have an odd fact ready about NASA tech, native legends, an article about a historical building that he read, Fleetwood PA, etc. He doesn't seem the type to keep facts on standby to impress, so perhaps he's a secret bibliophile even though Finola hassles him for not reading case files.

"Fin: Maybe we should run some more tests before we continue/ Bryan: I will cut bait if you want to / Fin; let's just look out for each other" 1x02 Bryan seems more cautious than impulsive, he does a good job of listening to Finola's concerns. Is that from experience? Did he get overconfident, mishandle debris, and get permanently injured, hence the frequent blood work and injections?

"This man saved my life." Why does Bryan trust Maddox implicitly? And when Maddox says in 1x07 "Investigate quietly. I want to keep the lights off. I don't want to lose anymore lives, Bryan, okay?" is that a word of warning specially for him? Does he have a body count? (see afforementioned question of frequent work partners turnover and having an unlucky reputation)

Bryan in protective of Finola when the CIA taps her apartment. It's the straw that turns his allegiance from his agency to his partner.

I still can't place why Bryan carries a baseball — it seems like it could be a red herring, but I can't get over the visual of Maddox playing catch with Dario and reading into it as some sort of surrogate bond — or why he has a chain around his neck (1x05). It's not service tags and probably not a ring, it's some kind of pendant: a large loop encircling a dull, perhaps tarnished, gray metallic disc. A patron saint? A piece of shrapnel? A piece of debris? Unclear, but it definitely has texture or an etching.

Top Bryan Quotes

"That's the job. Impossible." 1x01 Pilot

"We are supposed to be blips in these people's lives, not memories." 1x04 In Universe

"It's been a long time since I've worked with somebody who's looked at me like another human being." 1x01

"Zippo lighters, Pyrex glassware, Crayola crayons, and of course Peeps. Insane for peeps, cracklike...we owe the people of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania a great deal of gratitude and I am not afraid to say it." 1x02 You Are Not Alone

"I've been thinking, [about] Finola.. if MI6 knew her father was still alive they would take her out of here. We need to get home before this becomes an issue...this is going to affect her." 1x03 Solar Winds, when he's not sure how her father will affect her empathetic-based decision-making

Craig: "You hated the creepy Dutch guy." / Bryan: "He was adorable."

"Well, one of my tips for survival, Muntz, is always let the other guy touch the debris first." 1x03 So is that what happened to Garcia?

To Finola "I realize I tend to forget that there's still magic to discover in the world. But not you." 1x03

"There are things that you understand about life that I don't, and I respect that. But there are things that I know that you will not find very palatable...I am going to focus on the people that we're saving and not the ones that we can't." 1x04

"If we don't act, we might not be able to stop the terraforming. There's no way we're going to be able to win all these, and I know that every cell in your body right now is screaming for you to do what you think is right. I need you to go against that. I need you to trust me." 1x04

"Finola's capable. I trust her instincts." 1x08 Spaceman

"I'm running on sugar and coffee for the rest of the day" 1x07 You Can Call Her Caroline, but really isn't that Bryan everyday?

"When I tell you that I understand, it's not empty...I lost brothers. It destroys families. There are people who can help you with what you're going through right now...There is a way to get back from this pain. I was where you were, and the darkness almost ended me. And somebody put out his hand... I want to be there for you." 1x07

"I'm trying to get back to someone. It's very important to me." 1x09 Do You Know Icarus?

[ringobean]

i've been trying to write my first fanfiction for fun, come to read it and tell me what do you think of it 😉 its not finish yet, but the rest of the story should arrive soon.

A strange meeting

Im (Y/N) i have 19 years old, as part of my studies at the university, I decided to leave for a year in England to perfect my English, as an absolute fan of the Beatles, I obviously chose the University of Liverpool. I absolutely wanted to immerse myself in this city that gave birth to my favorite band.

I managed to find a roommate in a big house with 3 other foreign students, there is Luna who is Spanish, Michelle is French, Eline is Dutch, we have about the same age, and the same passions, especially with Michelle, who owes her name to her mother who is also a Beatles fan.

All saturday night we like to go together to the Cavern Club, mythical place to listen to new bands and have a drink and meet lots of new people.

after a great new evening, we go home, and I go to bed listening as usual my playlist with all the Beatles albums by looking at their pictures, on different social networks, especially the photos of Ringo who is just the man of my dreams at any era, I also love to read fanfictions especially the smut ones with Ringo, until I fall asleep.

I wake up slowly with the presence of human warmth at my side and a sweet scent of cologne with musk mixed with the smell of tobacco, I gently open my eyes and I see a young Ringo sleeping peacefully at my side, even more beautiful than in my usual dreams, he opens in turn his beautiful blue baby eyes, I literally melted of love, my God that this dream looks so real! I don't want to wake up, and he says with his beautiful deep voice "Damn, I should'nt drink so much, I can't remember how I ended up in the bed of such pretty bird" WHAT? Wait a minute it's not a dream, I open my eyes wide and I get up with a start, dead with fear, he looks at me with big astonished eyes, and there I turn my head and I see lying on the floor of my room Paul, John and George, I think I'm going to faint, I didn't drink much last night, and I don't take drugs, what is this shit, they wake up slowly and there I start screaming and crying, shouting their names, and repeating that it's impossible, and that i need to wake up.

John looks at me amused and says "wow I know I'm used to make girls shout, but not at this point, especially since we are not very famous yet" and they start all 4 to laugh. "Not famous yet???" "you're just the biggest rock band of all time, and you tell me you're not famous?" Paul laughingly replies that they are quite popular in Liverpool, but not the best rock band in the world at the moment.

my roommates worried, quickly get into my bedroom.

"what's going on?" Says Michelle, "And what are these 4 boys doing in your room, when did you bring them back?"

"This 4 boys?, Are you kiding me, Michelle?? You don't recognize them?"

"Huuum sorry, but no..."

"Wow, Michelle what a lovely name and nice outfit" says Paul!

it was summer and we had only very light pajamas, which did not hide much of our bodies. But in 2019 it was not indecent, which wasn't the case in their time, hence their amazed looks.

"Thanks" she said, embarrassed by his insistent gaze, which undressed her from head to foot.

George said "see, we arn't so famous yet, your friends didn't know us, you're must be a crazy fan"

"Ok, ok it must be a fucking prank, where is the camera? Congratulations, girls you found great look-alikes, very similar by the way, but that's it, all the good jokes have an end"

"You've gone crazy (Y/N)", Luna told me worried, "or did you take drugs last night?"

I rolled my eyes, searching for my phone under my pillow.

"Wtf is that thing?" asks me Ringo.

"A phone... you brought guys as nut as you to what I see" Said Eline.

"Im not crazy and im gonna prove it, it's all of you, who're nuts!"

And then, no more Beatles playlist on my phone, no more pictures, and no more of their posters on my walls.

I do a quick search on google, and nothing about the Beatles, nothing, I start crying again, i didnt understand about what's going on.

Ringo look at my phone like a small kid who discovers the world.

"Wait a minute, love, why there is this date on your weird phone"

"Because we are in 2019, August 23, what year do you think we are?"

"What the hell, are you fucking kiding us" said John really afraid.

"We're in August, 23, 1962, we were at a party last night organized by our manager, to celebrate the arrival of our new drummer, and we have to record our first record in a few days" sais Paul.

Im trying to calm down, and explain to them as quietly as possible that something really strange is happening.

"Really, guys, just look at us, look at the style of the room, my phone, our clothes, our hairstyles, do you really get to see that in 1962?"

"And girls, look at them, do they really look like to boys of 2019?"

Ringo pulled out a cigarette pack from the pocket of his jacket, lighting a cigarette with an old vintage lighter.

"See, look at the pack, the lighter it no longer exists in our time"

"I must admit that they seem to have come from another time, says Michelle"

"but they come from another time, what Paul has just said is true, the first official Beatles concert with Ringo at the Cavern Club was on August 22, 1962, why am I the only one to remember them?"

"we should really stop drinking so much, what are we doing here, how did we get in 2019, what is this shit" said George panicked.

"I really don't know how you made it to land here, but we must find a way to get you back to your era, otherwise no more Beatles, and impossible for me to imagine a life without listening to your music."

[xtruss]

Tiny Little Jars Contain Big, Bold Colors In The Forbes Pigment Collection

— NPR | October 29, 2020 | By Susan Stamberg at NPR Headquarters in Washington, D.C., May 21, 2019.

Looks like your spice rack on steroids? Nope. Although the colors are a feast for the eyes. Caitlin Cunningham Photography/Forbes Pigment Collection at the Harvard Art Museums (Photo by Allison Shelley)

Do you have a shrine? Religious, maybe, but not necessarily. A place where you are filled with awe?

I have several. One (you won't believe this) was the former Liberace Museum. Liberace, who died in 1987, was a fabulous musician with a collection of pianos, including one that once belonged to George Gershwin. (You must take a moment to watch this video of the understated, dignified Wladziu Valentino Liberace playing Gershwin on another piano in his collection.)

George Gershwin is my favorite composer. Seeing his piano at the Liberace Museum was such a thrill I simply could not resist touching the keys. Lightly. But verboten. Awed and still guilty, years later I confessed my transgression on the air to a curator there. "Don't feel badly," she said. "Every visitor does that."

Shrine No. 2 is the library at Princeton University. There for a story on F. Scott Fitzgerald, I asked the librarian to see some of the great author's papers. From a carton, he pulled out the manuscript of The Great Gatsby.

"Would you like a look at it?" Oh, old sport!

I actually held the page in my hands. No curator's gloves. The paper so brittle that edges flaked off at my touch (he was writing it in 1924). Guilty again, I reluctantly handed it back. But the thrill, the awe, remains.

All of which brings me to Ann Hoenigswald, retired conservator of the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C. Asked about the Forbes Pigment Collection at the Harvard Art Museums, Hoenigswald said, "to a conservator, to see the display in Cambridge, it's really awe-inspiring .... almost like a shrine."

The Forbes Pigment Collection at the Harvard Art Museums.

Caitlin Cunningham Photography/Forbes Pigment Collection at the Harvard Art Museums

Those glass vials contain some of the more than 2,700 samples of pigments — colored particles mixed with material that binds them together — linseed or walnut or safflower oil, or eggs. Tada! Colored paint.

The Forbes Pigment Collection gives conservators, preservationists, artists, art historians and serious art fans a chance to see, analyze, imitate the precise colors used by various painters. Collection curator Narayan Khandekar says it's a chance to "have a conversation with the artist" even though he or she has been dead for centuries.

Van Gogh's 1888 Self-Portrait Dedicated to Paul Gauguin (left) and Emerald Green in the Forbes Pigment Collection. Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum; Harvard Art Museums/Straus Center for Conservation and Technical Studies

Van Gogh used emerald green for this self-portrait. Bright, great to look at. "The trouble is that it's toxic," says conservation scientist Khandekar. "It's made from arsenic." Mixed with copper, it produces this gorgeous color.

Khandekar says there's speculation that when the British exiled Napoleon to Saint Helena, they covered the walls with emerald green wallpaper, perhaps to slowly poison him when humidity released particles into the island air. Nobody knows for sure. But as we say in journalism, never let facts get in the way of a good story.

It's remarkable how many nasty ingredients go into making some of the most beautiful colors: bugs, urine, manure.

Bugs first. The cochineal insect. Lives on cacti in Mexico and South America. Ground up, its shell makes an incredible bright red color. Your lipstick, your makeup, your Ferrari has cochineal dye in it.

The deep red color carmine is derived from an acid that cochineal insects produce to fend off predators. Desiree Martin/AFP via Getty Images

According to Khandekar, "it was the second largest source of wealth (after silver) for the Spanish empire." Urine from Indian cows (yes, you read it right) was pay dirt for painters like J.M.W. Turner, Thomas Gainsborough and Georges Seurat.

They and so many others used Indian Yellow — thanks to Asian cows that were only given mango leaves to eat. The color's not made this way these days. Mercifully.

Which brings us to manure. Again from cows. "They do pigments a great service, don't they?" observes Khandekar. There wouldn't be Lead White without them. Again, toxic. Again, used in cosmetics. Again, not made this way now. You'll have to listen to this link on the Forbes' new audio tour, to hear where the manure comes in.

Look (as Joe Biden would say), we can't just end with unpleasantries. So here's a perfectly proper blue in a Botticelli from the Harvard Art Museums' collection.

Botticelli's The Virgin and Child (left) and Ultramarine #4 (Lapis Lazuli; Genuine) in the Forbes Pigment Collection. Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum; Harvard Art Museums/Straus Center for Conservation and Technical Studies

That Ultramarine Blue was made with crushed lapis lazuli, probably mined in Afghanistan. Botticelli used it six centuries ago. Old, but not that ancient as pigments go. The cavemen used charcoal and ochre pigments. Which shows how important creating art has always been to who we are as humans.

"These guys were out there hunting, gathering, trying to stay alive," Khandekar says. "And yet they still found time to make art."

Art Where You're At is an informal series showcasing lively online offerings at museums closed due to COVID-19, or at re-opening museums you may not be able to visit.

[theydaybrigade]

2015 in a nutshell

If you’re reading this it’s too late. It was a long tiiime ago in a galaxy far, far away, and these are their stories.

Me: hello... it's me. i'm auditioning for the role of right shark and i'll be singing hotline bling. you’ve heard of rickrolls, now get ready for george glass… with a gun. Young man, I know he ate a cheese / I said, young man, Dan Nicky your JOHN CENA

Rihanna: *winks*

Glunkus: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

Steve Harvey: you’re too hot, hot damn (Taylor Swift™ No copyright infringement intended. Property of TAS LLC management 2012©). you know who else is beautiful? zoobe.

Coppy: we are Straight Outta boc (bread of color) so have a sinnamon snoll (snail roll)!

Poot: I’m the untoasted bread discourse and i still get sausage

Psychic: *reading Putin's mind* wake up chad. listen. those feudal handmaidens are lesbians *closes buzzfeed* #thisgeneration

Iggy: *freestyles spongebob gothic*

Me: Charlie, Charlie, are you there? [uses hands as microphone] My interests are very singular. *takes a deep breath* I lo-

You: yes, you love the signs as concepts, we know, you love them so much, especially *takes a closer look at smudged writing on snout* pal gals, psychic ford rail jaundice, and nyan generous evaluation, the first meme of 2015, they’re the light of your life, we KNOW you’re a kid you’re a squid and Dick Cheney can't melt steel beams. WE GET IT

Me: There you are. (raising voice slightly to be heard) oi mate u fancy a cheeky Nando’s?

You: (at full volume) I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR OLD FACE MAGENTA 1994 JUST FUCK ME UP

*20 minutes into stealing human bones and chill*

Me: What are thoooose?

You: white and gold minion shoes *trips* *thousands of photos of Tubbs in a Down with Cis shirt eating coleslaw spill out of your pockets* what haha these aren’t- *desperately trying to gather them as more fall out* I’m holding these for someone else I swear!

Me: *shoving breadsticks into purse* I gotta go

You: okay… that sounds fake but okay

Shakira’s hips: As a lesbian… supporter who respects creative integrity and intellectual property, I am disgusted.

Me: Son of a

You: You are mean to me you insult me and you dont appreciate anything that i

Me: i’m a jaded teenage girl. i’ve been through shit that you wouldn’t even dream of.

You: Why you always lyin mmmmmm

Me: You said you found a wallet on the ground with like $1,000 dollars in it. I said bitch where? You said under all those rare Pepes. I said bitch where?

You: I McFreakin’ lost it!

Me: And quit telling everyone I’m dead!

You: Buy my silence. Permanently. For $8,000 a month, I will stop.

Me: why?

You: you gotta. JUST DO IT

Me: YOU SAW GOODY PROCTOR STEAL FIZZY LIFTING DRINKS AND DID NOTHING, TRAITOR!

You: I didn’t get no sleep ‘cause of y’all

Me: how many times must you kink shame me under my own roof? hoe don't do it

You: Y'ALL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP CAUSE OF ME!

Me: oh my god. “not all men” you're right. Paul Blart: Mall Cop would never do this.

You: Tony, what’s good?

Me: *spits at you* effective.

Power

لُلُصّبُلُلصّبُررً ॣ ॣh ॣ ॣ

冗

*title card* Captain America: Civil War

[ellidimple]

2015 in a nutshell

If you’re reading this it’s too late. It was a long tiiime ago in a galaxy far, far away, and these are their stories.

Me: hello... it's me. i'm auditioning for the role of right shark and i'll be singing hotline bling. you’ve heard of rickrolls, now get ready for george glass… with a gun. Young man, I know he ate a cheese / I said, young man, Dan Nicky your JOHN CENA

Rihanna: *winks*

Glunkus: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

Steve Harvey: you’re too hot, hot damn (Taylor Swift™ No copyright infringement intended. Property of TAS LLC management 2012©). you know who else is beautiful? zoobe.

Coppy: we are Straight Outta boc (bread of color) so have a sinnamon snoll (snail roll)!

Poot: I’m the untoasted bread discourse and i still get sausage

Psychic: *reading Putin's mind* wake up chad. listen. those feudal handmaidens are lesbians *closes buzzfeed* #thisgeneration

Iggy: *freestyles spongebob gothic*

Me: Charlie, Charlie, are you there? [uses hands as microphone] My interests are very singular. *takes a deep breath* I lo-

You: yes, you love the signs as concepts, we know, you love them so much, especially *takes a closer look at smudged writing on snout* pal gals, psychic ford rail jaundice, and nyan generous evaluation, the first meme of 2015, they’re the light of your life, we KNOW you’re a kid you’re a squid and Dick Cheney can't melt steel beams. WE GET IT

Me: There you are. (raising voice slightly to be heard) oi mate u fancy a cheeky Nando’s?

You: (at full volume) I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR OLD FACE MAGENTA 1994 JUST FUCK ME UP

*20 minutes into stealing human bones and chill*

Me: What are thoooose?

You: white and gold minion shoes *trips* *thousands of photos of Tubbs in a Down with Cis shirt eating coleslaw spill out of your pockets* what haha these aren’t- *desperately trying to gather them as more fall out* I’m holding these for someone else I swear!

Me: *shoving breadsticks into purse* I gotta go

You: okay… that sounds fake but okay

Shakira’s hips: As a lesbian… supporter who respects creative integrity and intellectual property, I am disgusted.

Me: Son of a

You: You are mean to me you insult me and you dont appreciate anything that i

Me: i’m a jaded teenage girl. i’ve been through shit that you wouldn’t even dream of.

You: Why you always lyin mmmmmm

Me: You said you found a wallet on the ground with like $1,000 dollars in it. I said bitch where? You said under all those rare Pepes. I said bitch where?

You: I McFreakin’ lost it!

Me: And quit telling everyone I’m dead!

You: Buy my silence. Permanently. For $8,000 a month, I will stop.

Me: why?

You: you gotta. JUST DO IT

Me: YOU SAW GOODY PROCTOR STEAL FIZZY LIFTING DRINKS AND DID NOTHING, TRAITOR!

You: I didn’t get no sleep ‘cause of y’all

Me: how many times must you kink shame me under my own roof? hoe don't do it

You: Y'ALL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP CAUSE OF ME!

Me: oh my god. “not all men” you're right. Paul Blart: Mall Cop would never do this.

You: Tony, what’s good?

Me: *spits at you* effective.

Power

لُلُصّبُلُلصّبُررً ॣ ॣh ॣ ॣ

冗

*title card* Captain America: Civil War

[apocahipster]

2015 in a nutshell

If you’re reading this it’s too late. It was a long tiiime ago in a galaxy far, far away, and these are their stories.

Me: hello... it's me. i'm auditioning for the role of right shark and i'll be singing hotline bling. you’ve heard of rickrolls, now get ready for george glass… with a gun. Young man, I know he ate a cheese / I said, young man, Dan Nicky your JOHN CENA

Rihanna: *winks*

Glunkus: 👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌th 👌 ere👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my selｆ 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠＯOOＯOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

Steve Harvey: you’re too hot, hot damn (Taylor Swift™ No copyright infringement intended. Property of TAS LLC management 2012©). you know who else is beautiful? zoobe.

Coppy: we are Straight Outta boc (bread of color) so have a sinnamon snoll (snail roll)!

Poot: I’m the untoasted bread discourse and i still get sausage

Psychic: *reading Putin's mind* wake up chad. listen. those feudal handmaidens are lesbians *closes buzzfeed* #thisgeneration

Iggy: *freestyles spongebob gothic*

Me: Charlie, Charlie, are you there? [uses hands as microphone] My interests are very singular. *takes a deep breath* I lo-

You: yes, you love the signs as concepts, we know, you love them so much, especially *takes a closer look at smudged writing on snout* pal gals, psychic ford rail jaundice, and nyan generous evaluation, the first meme of 2015, they’re the light of your life, we KNOW you’re a kid you’re a squid and Dick Cheney can't melt steel beams. WE GET IT

Me: There you are. (raising voice slightly to be heard) oi mate u fancy a cheeky Nando’s?

You: (at full volume) I’M ALWAYS A SLUT FOR OLD FACE MAGENTA 1994 JUST FUCK ME UP

*20 minutes into stealing human bones and chill*

Me: What are thoooose?

You: white and gold minion shoes *trips* *thousands of photos of Tubbs in a Down with Cis shirt eating coleslaw spill out of your pockets* what haha these aren’t- *desperately trying to gather them as more fall out* I’m holding these for someone else I swear!

Me: *shoving breadsticks into purse* I gotta go

You: okay… that sounds fake but okay

Shakira’s hips: As a lesbian… supporter who respects creative integrity and intellectual property, I am disgusted.

Me: Son of a

You: You are mean to me you insult me and you dont appreciate anything that i

Me: i’m a jaded teenage girl. i’ve been through shit that you wouldn’t even dream of.

You: Why you always lyin mmmmmm

Me: You said you found a wallet on the ground with like $1,000 dollars in it. I said bitch where? You said under all those rare Pepes. I said bitch where?

You: I McFreakin’ lost it!

Me: And quit telling everyone I’m dead!

You: Buy my silence. Permanently. For $8,000 a month, I will stop.

Me: why?

You: you gotta. JUST DO IT

Me: YOU SAW GOODY PROCTOR STEAL FIZZY LIFTING DRINKS AND DID NOTHING, TRAITOR!

You: I didn’t get no sleep ‘cause of y’all

Me: how many times must you kink shame me under my own roof? hoe don't do it

You: Y'ALL NOT GONNA GET NO SLEEP CAUSE OF ME!

Me: oh my god. “not all men” you're right. Paul Blart: Mall Cop would never do this.

You: Tony, what’s good?

Me: *spits at you* effective.

Power

لُلُصّبُلُلصّبُررً ॣ ॣh ॣ ॣ

冗

*title card* Captain America: Civil War