!!pp

A magyar focit valamiért kedvelők remek belsős infókat gyűjthettek volna

a Széchenyi fürdőben, mert mellettem ült egy állítólagos válogatott játékos, és az apukája, és hosszasan beszélgettek a játékstratégiákról, az edzőről, meg az NB 1 ellentmondásairól. Én a teljes infohiányom miatt annyit tudtam leszűrni, hogy a fiatal játékos bugyután naiv stílusban szerénykedett, de úgy, hogy kiderüljön, ő a legjobb játékos, csak az edző rossz posztra osztja be. Középpályásként ugyanis rengeteg gólt lő, mégis szélsőként alkalmazzák, ahol sajnos érthetően háttérben marad.

Apukája viszont nagymellényű hétvégi horgász+házbizalmi stílusban tolta: az edző nyilvánvaló hibát követ el, hogy a fiát szélre rakja. A statisztikák is ezt mutatják. De pl amikor még ő volt hátvéd, akkor mindenkinél több gólt lőtt, csak távolról tette. Ezt mindenki tudta, ezért a védője soha nem is jött előrébb, csak a félpályáig.

Az apuka megígérte, hogy beszélni fog az edzővel. Aztán a fiú elmondta, magyar jellegzetesség, hogy az emberek csak néhány nevet jegyeznek meg, eredménytől függetlenül, a többiek letehetnek bármit az asztalra, hiába. Apuka szerint a Dzsudzsák például jól pozicionálta magát, dehát ennyi.

Május

Olyan vagyok neki mint a Kill Billben O-Ren Ishii tolmácsa. Mindig ott vagyok, mindig jól nézek ki, nem vagyok ideges még ha le is vágatja valaki fejét, tökéletesen fordítok. Már évek óta itt dolgozok, a Szárnyas fejvadászon találtam ezt a munkát. Csak éppen nem azért vagyok itt évek óta mert akarok, hanem mert be vagyunk zárva.

Egész pontosan 3an. Mi hárman nők együtt kezdtük ezt az “adminisztrációs munkát”, ami hát kiderült nem épp az, aminek gondoltuk. Vagyis ennek az elhízott undorító perverznek vagyunk a múzsái. Minden reggel kilenckor meg kell jelennünk előtte, amikor is végig néz bennünket, sajnos hozzánk is ér, de csak finoman, gondolkodik egy kicsit, majd elküld bennünket. És mivel én vagyok a személyi asszisztense, tudom mi történik ilyenkor valójában. 

Májusra készül. Hedó május. Egyrészt berendeli a világból a legdrágább, legfinomabb kajákat, másrészt mi hármunkkal csinál mindenféle undorító és fájdalmas dolgokat, amit közszemlére tesz a 30 férfi alkalmazottjának. Ennek az ötletelése történik reggelenként.

Erre úgy jöttem rá, hogy mivel perverz és mazochista is egyben, mindent, de mindent, amit velünk fog csinálni, kipróbálja először magán, hogy pontosan tudja nekünk milyen érzés, amikor majd májusban mindez megtörténik velünk. 

Tegnap megkért hozzak be neki egy pohár friss tejet. A flegma, érzéstelen, csinos, sápadt, sima arcom most az egyszer nem maradt rezzenéstelen, remélem nem vette észre, hogy abban a pillanatban fogalmazódott meg bennem, hogy ki kell alakítanunk egy szökési tervet. 

A disznóember éppen kézenállva nyomott a saját seggébe egy óriási kerámiakést. 

Úgyhogy kiharcoltunk magunknak mi 3an egy reggeli előtti edzés blokkot, amikor is futunk 12 kilómétert és úszunk még 5öt. És ő azt hiszi azért, hogy szép legyen a combunk májusra, de nem azért. 

Hanem mert jövőhéten kirohanunk ebből a világból, de úgy, hogy az durranni fog, mert áttörjük a hangsebességet. 

9

Holy shit this one was a pain in the ass to make (I had 1 extra photo that  I didn’t wanna delete so I had to add 2 pics together in one file, so that’s one the one is the way it is)

This is a Shinkane text post using the most relatable lyrics from the song “The Reason” by Hoobastank. Once again, I think this song just fit Kou’s feelings to a tee

(Also, if you’d like to ask I make one of these for Shinkane or another PP character with a song of your choosing, I’m open to requests)

2

here’s layton everywhere but the question is why?

handwriting meme!!! (*>▽<*)ゞ

i was tagged by nishizuo (thanks!)

if tagged, rewrite this message in your own handwriting and tag 10 people!

fun fact: i’m currently in love with the Professor Layton series and i love Sycamore’s hair (*`・_っ・´)ノ lovely bread man curls

i tag: lev-haiiba, easofthelabyrinth, summer-of-the-shinx, xhoneychiix, tylergoulston, jbearoo, and anyone else who wants to try this out!! you don’t have to do it, but it’s fun to try out! (。ゝ∀・)ゞ

and have some bonus layton scribs on my english hw (○・ω・)ノ

March 5, 1953: Death of Soviet leader J.V. Stalin

To You Beloved Comrade

by Paul Robeson

Below is the full text of a tribute by Paul Robeson to Joseph Stalin upon Stalin’s death on March 5, 1953. It was published in New World Review, April, 1953, and reprinted in Paul Robeson Speaks, edited by Philip Foner, pp. 347-349. We are exhibiting it in commemoration of the 100th anniversary of Paul Robeson’s birth on April 9, 1898.

There is no richer store of human experience than the folk tales, folk poems and songs of a people. In many, the heroes are always fully recognizable humans - only larger and more embracing in dimension. So it is with the Russian, Chinese and the African folk-lore.

In 1937, a highly expectant audience of Moscow citizens - workers, artists, youth, farmers from surrounding towns - crowded the Bolshoy Theater. They awaited a performance by the Uzbek National Theater, headed by the highly gifted Tamara Khanum. The orchestra was a large one with instruments ancient and modern. How exciting would be the blending of the music of the rich culture of Moussorgsky, Tchaikovsky, Prokofiev, Shostakovich, Khrennikov, Gliere - with that of the beautiful music of the Uzbeks, stemming from an old and proud civilization.

Suddenly everyone stood - began to applaud - to cheer - and to smile. The children waved.

In a box to the right - smiling and applauding the audience - as well as the artists on the stage - stood the great Stalin.

I remember the tears began to quietly flow. and I too smiled and waved Here was clearly a man who seemed to embrace all. So kindly - I can never forget that warm feeling of kindliness and also a feeling of sureness. Here was one who was wise and good - the world and especially the socialist world was fortunate indeed to have his daily guidance. I lifted high my son Pauli to wave to this world leader, and his leader. For Paul, Jr. had entered school in Moscow, in the land of the Soviets.

The wonderful performance began, unfolding new delights at every turn - ensemble and individual, vocal and orchestral, classic and folk-dancing of amazing originality. Could it be possible that a few years before in 1900 - in 1915 - these people had been semi-serfs - their cultural expression forbidden, their rich heritage almost lost under tsarist oppression’s heel?

So here one witnessed in the field of the arts - a culture national in form, socialist in content. Here was a people quite comparable to some of the tribal folk of Asia - quite comparable to the proud Yoruba or Basuto of West and East Africa, but now their lives flowering anew within the socialist way of life twenty years matured under the guidance of Lenin and Stalin. And in this whole area of development of national minorities - of their relation to the Great Russians - Stalin had played and was playing a most decisive role.

I was later to travel - to see with my own eyes what could happen to so-called backward peoples. In the West (in England, in Belgium, France, Portugal, Holland) - the Africans, the Indians (East and West), many of the Asian peoples were considered so backward that centuries, perhaps, would have to pass before these so-called “colonials” could become a part of modern society.

But in the Soviet Union, Yakuts, Nenetses, Kirgiz, Tadzhiks - had respect and were helped to advance with unbelievable rapidity in this socialist land. No empty promises, such as colored folk continuously hear in the United States, but deeds. For example, the transforming of the desert in Uzbekistan into blooming acres of cotton. And an old friend of mine, Mr. Golden, trained under Carver at Tuskegee, played a prominent role in cotton production. In 1949, I saw his daughter, now grown and in the university - a proud Soviet citizen.

Today in Korea - in Southeast Asia - in Latin America and the West Indies, in the Middle East - in Africa, one sees tens of millions of long oppressed colonial peoples surging toward freedom. What courage - what sacrifice - what determination never to rest until victory!

And arrayed against them, the combined powers of the so-called Free West, headed by the greedy, profit-hungry, war-minded industrialists and financial barons of our America. The illusion of an “American Century” blinds them for the immediate present to the clear fact that civilization has passed them by - that we now live in a people’s century - that the star shines brightly in the East of Europe and of the world. Colonial peoples today look to the Soviet Socialist Republics. They see how under the great Stalin millions like themselves have found a new life. They see that aided and guided by the example of the Soviet Union, led by their Mao Tse-tung, a new China adds its mighty power to the true and expanding socialist way of life. They see formerly semi-colonial Eastern European nations building new People’s Democracies, based upon the people’s power with the people shaping their own destinies. So much of this progress stems from the magnificent leadership, theoretical and practical, given by their friend Joseph Stalin.

They have sung - sing now and will sing his praise - in song and story. Slava - slava - slava - Stalin, Glory to Stalin. Forever will his name be honored and beloved in all lands.

In all spheres of modern life the influence of Stalin reaches wide and deep. From his last simply written but vastly discerning and comprehensive document, back through the years, his contributions to the science of our world society remain invaluable. One reverently speaks of Marx, Engels, Lenin and Stalin - the shapers of humanity’s richest present and future.

Yes, through his deep humanity, by his wise understanding, he leaves us a rich and monumental heritage. Most importantly - he has charted the direction of our present and future struggles. He has pointed the way to peace - to friendly co-existence - to the exchange of mutual scientific and cultural contributions - to the end of war and destruction. How consistently, how patiently, he labored for peace and ever increasing abundance, with what deep kindliness and wisdom. He leaves tens of millions all over the earth bowed in heart-aching grief.

But, as he well knew, the struggle continues. So, inspired by his noble example, let us lift our heads slowly but proudly high and march forward in the fight for peace - for a rich and rewarding life for all.

In the inspired words of Lewis Allan, our progressive lyricist -

To you Beloved Comrade, we make this solemn vow
The fight will go on - the fight will still go on.
Sleep well, Beloved Comrade, our work will just begin.
The fight will go on - till we win - until we win.

i just cant wait for the day when im living in a little apartment with the dude i adore that truly adores me and just enjoying my bleak little life from the moment i wake up making breakfast for each other and living life. i just want that.