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@clumsyqueef

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im so enamored with stories that portray love as something soft and kind because i do think that love at its core is an act of kindness. its part of the reason i prefer the idea of growing into love instead of falling in love because when i think of growing into love i think of a garden, like love is something to cultivate, to tend to daily, a steady progression of growth with some setbacks, a few dying leaves here and there, having to move to a bigger pot and a spot with more sunshine, but it’s still something that at the end of the month, or a year, or a decade, or a lifetime you can look at and see the product of your dedication, see exactly what it means to pour your heart into something. i just! love reading about kind love!

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every person can feel freddie’s presence in their souls when they sing MAMAAAAAA UUHHHH, I DONT WANNA DIE, I SOMETIMES I WISH I’VE NEVER BEEN BORN AT ALL with all the air in their lungs i’m not joking

it’s fucking crazy to think about the amount of people who have sung bohemian rhapsody? like it’s such a unifying song, by nature of the fact that so many people know it. it holds so many good memories for me and other people. it’s a song you scream in the car with your friends while you drive around your boring hometown, it’s a song you drunkenly sing with your arm around your best friend, or a song you sing along to with strangers when it’s on in public. it’s bittersweet to think about freddie’s legacy carrying on like that through his masterpiece. freddie carries on because he’s a part of so many people’s good memories and bohemian rhapsody is a huge part of that.

Reblog if you have sung bohemian rhapsody with your friends

every time i see this post i’m reminded of the video of 65,000 people singing bohemian rhapsody in near-perfect harmony

like, what other song can make that claim?

Some of the highlights of that video include:

  • The crowd cheering after the first stanza when they realize what they’re all doing
  • So many people audibly ‘doing the guitar parts’… like ya do
  • The sheer number of voices joining the rediculous falsetto (thanks, Roger)
  • How they all start jumping at the ramp-up “so you think you can stomp me”
  • Hands up, hundreds, thousands deep for the final “ooooo”s and the last line to close the song

Only days before my state went into lockdown, “Bohemian Rhapsody” came on in the restaurant kitchen I’d just been hired at and, no shit, every single worker in that little diner started singing along. Me (the only queer afaik), the manager, all the other kitchen workers, the dishwasher up front, the two people on the counter, all but two of the men over 30. Just belting out Freddie Mercury at the top of their lungs. And you can bet when “sometimes I wish I’d never been born at all” came around, we every single one of us ramped up the intensity and basically made sure Freddie could hear us in the afterlife.

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zohbugg
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my toxic trait is never tracking my periods so every 28 days i gaslight myself into thinking the world is ending when the pms symptoms hit me like a freight train

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The world's longest-running lab experiment

The Pitch Drop Experiment

The experiment demonstrates the fluidity and high viscosity of pitch, a derivative of tar that is the world's thickest known fluid and was once used for waterproofing boats.

Thomas Parnell, UQ's first Professor of Physics, created the experiment in 1927 to illustrate that everyday materials can exhibit quite surprising properties.

At room temperature pitch feels solid - even brittle - and can easily be shattered with a hammer. But, in fact, at room temperature the substance - which is 100 billion times more viscous than water - is actually fluid.

In 1927 Professor Parnell heated a sample of pitch and poured it into a glass funnel with a sealed stem. He allowed the pitch to cool and settle for three years, and then in 1930 he cut the funnel's stem.

Since then, the pitch has slowly dripped out of the funnel - so slowly that it took eight years for the first drop to fall, and more than 40 years for another five to follow.

Now, 87 years after the funnel was cut, only nine drops have fallen - the last drop fell in April 2014 and we expect the next one to fall sometime in the 2020s.

The experiment was set up as a demonstration and is not kept under special environmental conditions - it's kept in a display cabinet - so the rate of flow of the pitch varies with seasonal changes in temperature.

The late Professor John Mainstone became the experiment's second custodian in 1961. He looked after the experiment for 52 years but, like his predecessor Professor Parnell, he passed away before seeing a drop fall.

In the 86 years that the pitch has been dripping, various glitches have prevented anyone from seeing a drop fall.

AKFJEKJD my god

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Me and my gf were talking abt good castings for Sir Walter Elliot and she suggested Jack Black and I was like "Jack Black could do any Bennet. Jack Black could do ALL the Bennets" so now my ideal P+P has Jack Black as the entire Bennet family, or at least Mrs. Bennet

Further thoughts on Jack Black as Mrs. Bennet

  • He is not in drag.
  • He is wearing a dress and a bonnet.
  • He is the only one who seems unaware/does not acknowledge that the 5 Bennet sisters are obviously adopted
  • bonus points if they're cast race-blind so they're OBVIOUSLY adopted
  • It's played straight that Jack Black was a renowned beauty in his day, which is how he snared a genteel husband
  • He is the only cast member not required to do a British accent
  • He is in fact encouraged to do a bad British accent but only sometimes
  • The bonnet that Jack Black wears is possibly the most ostentatious bonnet anyone has ever seen HOWEVER
  • Each time the camera cuts away and back, Jack Black is wearing a different bonnet.
  • A significant portion of the costume budget should go towards Jack Black's various bonnets
  • Mr. Bennet can wear the same outfit for the entire film that's in character for him
  • The changing bonnet gag is absolutely key to this film
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Anonymous asked:

Kinda weird how you say you’re against fascism yet you shut down anyone just because they share a different opinion than you. You guys are exactly what you say you hate... FASCIST! How come I have never seen any member of antifa actually sit down with someone and have a civil debate? I’ve only ever seen them yell and throw tantrums. Doesn’t look good for you guys, yikes.

fascism in italy was not defeated by discourse.

Something I heard recently: if you insist on sheltering both lambs and wolves, you will get in the end only wolves. If you insist your safe space is safe for bigots as well as minorities you will have a space full of bigots- minorities will be driven out.

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Could you fill me in on the whole grape-kun thing?

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A japanese zoo, Tobu Zoo, had a colab with the anime Kemono Friends where they added cutouts of the anime characters to the enclosures of the matching animals to attract visitors and stuff, one of these characters being Hululu, an airhead anthropomorphic Humboldt penguin:

image

Grape-kun, an old humboldt penguin who’d been abandoned by his former mate due to his health issues, started showing a lot of interest for the cutout, staring at it for hours, trying to reach it on top of the tall rock where it was placed, and even trying to court it.

Of course, Kemono Friends already being a surprise hit show, the thing went viral and tons of art, jokes and other content were made. Even after the colab was over, the zoo didn’t remove Grape-kun’s sunshine, and Hululu’s VA Ikuko Chikuta even visited Grape-kun during an educational event:

Unfortunately, Grape-kun was already old and his health started to deteriorate. He was removed from his enclosure for treatment, along with his muse of course, that was placed next to him. On october 12, 2017, Tobu Zoo announced that Grape-kun passed away, with Hululu by his side in his final moments. Once again Grape-kun started trending, this time in a sadder tone as fans, visitors and part of the Kemono Friends staff paid their respects.

As a final homage to Grape-kun, a new cutout was added to the penguin enclosure in january 2018, immortalizing this romance:

And thus ends the tale of Grape-kun and Hululu. May our little Friend rest in penguin heaven with his anime wife, gone, but never forgotten.

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jingles

The struggle. The uneven tear. The cat fucking stomping the chocolate getting it everywhere. This video has it all.

Im fucking crying

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anyway blackout poetry not just as an art form, but as an act of violence against other works of art

taking a piece of text that someone probably put their heart and soul into creating and using it as your raw material, cutting out everything that you deem irrelevant to the point you want to make

i mean imagine cutting up a painting and using it to make a collage, or taking a marble sculpture and carving pieces out of it to make a different sculpture

just to be clear: i love blackout poetry, im not criticizing it here. i am just waxing poetic about it. i dont really know where im going with this i just have Thoughts about art being destructive

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reblogged
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aridante
“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.”

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At least my jade is coming back to life