THERE IS A LONGER VERSION???
Who dug this up. You fool. There’s a reason we didn’t see his before. We weren’t meant to hear the child’s final screech. We were being spared and you’ve doomed us all
The fuck did I just watch
Use when necessary.
are the pumpkin spice lattes really worth all that gloom?
i have had too much coffee
Me.
This is why you need to join the survival corps
if anyone asks what they should expect joining the snk fandom I’ll just show them this picture
Assassin’s Creed with kittens.
So I saw this post and just had to draw Cro unironically wear this shit.
Just imagine a humanstuck AU where Cronus has a daddy dom blog where he reblogs porn gifs and adds incredibly corny captions, honestly thinking they would turn people on. The term “cummies” and “cunny” are used in earnest. Most of his followers are just there for the second hand embarrassment, and either delete his captions when reblogging or just reblog from the source when they like something. Also, he sometimes accidentally reblogs posts that are meant for his secret fandom side blog - he’s actually really into Harry Potter meta/gifs/edits and Bandom.
PERFECT
When you flip bats upside down they become exceptionally sassy dancers.
Some call me … Tim.
OMG OKAY THIS IS GOLD. The pallas cat at my local zoo apparently does this, and there’s a little sort of kid-level viewing window into its habitat, and the keeper in that area told me that the pallas cat likes to hide beneath the window. So when the kids press their faces up to the glass, searching the exhibit for the animal, the pallas cat suddenly pops up directly in front of their faces and scares the ever-loving shit out of them. Pallas cat: recreationally scares children. Tell your friends.
I AM FREAKING CRYIN’
IT GOT BETTER
No.
No this is not funny.
Whether or not it is a joke, I’ve gone onto the channel and there are multiple videos similar to this, which makes me think they’re fake.
Doesn’t matter.
These videos enforce the idea to parents that yes, the answer to stop your child becoming obsessed with games is to DESTROY them.
No. This is not funny. It is things like this that cause events such as the father who SHOT his daughter’s laptop to bits to occur. These jokes enforce the attitude that people are ‘wrong’ for loving games.
For wanting to play games.
For some people (including myself), games are a serious escape from horrid realities. The only escape some people can get. The idea that this man (boy?) is wrong for being so upset is disgusting to me?
This is horrific. This is abuse. This is wrong.
This is a sure fire way to get your kids to hate you.
do people not understand how much video games cost?
Video games are a multi-billion dollar business. Some people are good at it. Very good. Do not squander your child’s talents, help them realize them and strengthen them. There are other ways to get your child outside without destroying their games and everything they work for. This won’t solve anything; this will only set them back further.
do this to your childs anything and they will automatically hate you/not trust you
It doesn’t matter what it is
It doesn’t matter if its their video games or if its their smoking pipe
If you just destroy it/throw it away, you are giving no explanation as to why it’s bad/you don’t want them to have it
This can actually psychologically mess a kid up because you teach them that if someone doesn’t like something, they should destroy it
That can lead to some serious problems with socializing with others and other things
dont do that to people
dont
I had a notebook I used to write in all the time. I did that thing that Margo did in Paper Towns where she criss crossed her writing, but I did it so I’d have enough room to write everything. I took it everywhere wtih me and wouldn’t let my parents even start the car unless I had in in my lap. My dad got really annoyed by this and said I needed to throw the notebook away, what was written in it wasn’t important anyway (it was to me, very much so). So one day he took and ran it through the paper shredder. Ever since I’ve had an intense fear of losing my notebooks and currently have a colletion of 53 blank notebooks and 16 that have been written in because I’ve started hoarding them. Long story short, don’t fucking do this to your kids. You think it’s harmless and some people even think it’s clever, but you’re really just an asshole and are causing actual psychological problems for your children.
I have a plush rabbit that I’ve had since Easter of the year I was born (I was about 2 months old when I got it). It quickly became a comfort thing for me and I used to go everywhere with it as a child. When my mum and dad split up was when I became kind of dependent on having it around. If ever I did anything wrong mum always threatened to take it away from me, which obviously caused my 6-year-old self to kick and scream and cry because I needed it. One day I lost it for 6 or 7 months (turns out it was in my room the whole time but shh it was very well hidden & neither myself or my mum know how it got there) That was the point that my mum realised she couldn’t threaten to take it away because holy shit I changed so much in those months. Seriously, if your child is dependent on something, or takes great comfort in having it around DO NOT TAKE IT FROM THEM. It does not matter how old your child is, what their comfort item is, if it’s a video games console - don’t take it from them. If it’s their phone - don’t take it from them. If they’re 18 and still sleep with a teddybear - don’t take it from them.
This also goes for if your child is self-harming. If they have a blade in their bedroom and you find it DO NOT THROW IT OUT. Talk to them about it, be as supportive as you can, but do not think “oh well if I get rid of it they’ll be fine”. It can be seriously distressing and also lead to them becoming creative with what they use.
Now, mind you, I have no issue with playing video games for a living, or writing in journals or plush animals or whatever… but FUCK… none of you have suggested what really needs to occur here:
PARENTS NEED TO TALK TO THEIR KIDS!
There needs to be a level of communication between both parent and child that allows the parent to parent and the child to grow. Destroying what your child loves will only result in one of three things: Deep hatred and distrust; A driving force to prove the parent wrong; and/or a fear of losing what is sacred to the child.
I could really give two shits if the lawnmower video is real or not, but what it demonstrates is that it was easier for the dad to destroy what he though was the issue, rather than sit down and talk to his son and find out what the real problem is.
Who’s at fault? BOTH OF THEM.
The dad is a shitty half-ass father. And the son could have made an effort to explain why these games are important to him.
It should NEVER have gotten to this point because probably neither of them talked to each other, and that’s what all of you should be addressing.
the last comment has it right, parents need to talk to their kids, they just can’t pin a 20 dollar bill to their collar and wish them the best of luck. That’s a recipe for failure, and the parent has no one to blame but them self.
The father in this video has NO FUCKING CLUE was long term damage he has done to his relationship with his son. As soon as Junior here moves out… he is GONE. Never to be seen again, and Dad will always wonder “How come my son never calls me to say hello?”
'CUZ YOU DESTROYED HIS CHILDHOOD, YOU LAZY FUCK!
we have candy corn
This made me so happy betterxdayss look!!
These videos blow my mind every time
idk what i just watched
THIS IS TRIPPY AS FUCK
please elaborate on how you got a substitute teacher to quit within one day. I'm genuinely curious.
all right everyone sit down, shut up and listen closely because I’m about to tell y’all the tale of Ms. Mormino.
Seventh grade is a time most people don’t look back on fondly. I know I sure don’t—I tend to regard that era as nothing more than an unpleasant, acne-filled haze of fall out boy and poor attempts at pseudo-zooey deschanel fashions. But enough about me. Let’s talk about my math teacher.
Ms. Isom. Poor old Ms. Isom. Well in her 60’s, always plagued with some illness or injury, she was hardly ever even at school. Since many of her absences were the result of short-notice incidents—“falling down the stairs” was popularly cited— it wasn’t all that uncommon to not have a substitute on hand. Being a smartass honors class, we’d gotten away with several successful evasions of administration, walking cavalierly into class to pass the next 48 minutes doing just about nothing. Hell, for good measure, we’d sometimes even toss in a friendly “hey, Ms. Isom!” if any administrators were anywhere within earshot. So incredibly anti-establishment, you could basically call it another Project Mayhem, except instead of Brad Pitt and Ed Norton concocting homemade bombs, it was a bunch of tweenyboppers with iPhone 3’s and Justin Bieber 2009 haircuts.
We got pretty accustomed to our own little self-governing system that rolled around every second period, so we naturally weren’t exactly thrilled when administration caught on to our little Anarchy Act and strictly enforced the presence of a substitute every day.
Most of our subs weren’t terrible—most were friendly, gave us participation grades, and didn’t object to the independent attitude of our class (which, mind you, only had about ten students in it)
That is, until Ms. Mormino came along.
Four feet, ten inches of raw, undiluted evil, Ms. Mormino walked into class with a scowl on her face and a chip on her shoulder. When the girl behind me sneezed, Ms. Mormino’s immediate response was “NO INAPPROPRIATE NOISES!”
Although we all suppressed our laughter, we all knew from that moment on that, try as she might with her despotism and her draconian anti-sneeze policy, Ms. Mormino didn’t stand a chance.
The arguable beginning of the end for Ms. Mormino’s all-too-brief reign of terror was the moment I asked for a calculator; mine was broken. Mormino asserted that I could only borrow a calculator if I loaned her something of mine; at that moment, the girl next to me chimed in, saying she, too, needed a calculator. “I have a folder I can give you,” I offered. “I have a highlighter,” added the other girl.
At that moment, a puberty-creaking voice from the back of the room piped up.
Max.
We all know certain people have certain gifts. Michelangelo saw angels in every block of marble and devoted his life to setting them free; Einstein had a mind which saw the potential of the entire universe; F. Scott Fitzgerald wove intricate tales of decadence and depravity. Max, however, had a different kind of gift: he could make anything—anything at all—into a “that’s what she said” joke. More on that later, though.
Max pried off a Nike sneaker and held it proudly in the air, like a coveted trophy.
"I have a shoe."
Tottering in one-shoe-one-sock, Max dumped the sneaker on Ms. Mormino’s desk, retrieved a calculator, then tottered back to his own desk, a sort of smirk playing on his face. And, as to be expected—the rest of us quickly followed suit.
A small pile of shoes on her desk, Ms. Mormino grit her teeth and glared at us as we all sat back down, quietly victorious, a calculator in each of our hands. It wasn’t long, however, until we all began to silently plot our next act of minor mayhem.
"Can I go to the bathroom?" asked Tyler, who, despite being in seventh grade, was approaching his sixteenth birthday. In a combination of verism and admiration of Tyler’s devil-may-care boldness, we unequivocally accepted him as our leader. For reasons unknown, Ms. Mormino denied his request. Tyler, much like his Fight Club namesake, heeded no rules but his own and left anyway—Ms. Mormino, furious, locked the door behind him and smugly insisted that "administration will take care of him."
Tyler, however, was not one to be caught, and stayed close by, appearing in the window of the door whenever Ms. Mormino wasn’t looking. Waving, smiling, laughing, making faces and obscene gestures, Tyler had us all in stitches, but cleverly avoided Ms. Mormino’s sight—when she asked us what was so funny, we all refused to give Tyler away.
A girl asked to go to the bathroom, stating she “really really really” needed to go. Ms. Mormino, again, denied her request. Ms. Mormino, however, seemed to be uninformed about the side door—leading right outside, always locked from the outside but always open from the inside.
"Well, I’ll go myself," the girl responded, and took off, hurdling three desks and darting out the door. Right behind her, two other students took off, pursuing freedom. The door slammed behind all three students, and they were gone.
Six of us were left. Among us, importantly, was Chris.
Chris was thirteen, but looked half his age; scrawny, wiry, he probably measured in at about four-foot-three, but no taller. “Late Bloomer” are words that come to mind.
Despite his diminutive size, Chris possessed the gall of someone like Tyler.
"I have to use the bathroom," said Chris, standing.
”Do you think I’m going to allow you to go to the bathroom?” snapped Ms. Mormino.
”It’s an emergency!” Chris pleaded.
"Sit down," Ms. Mormino growled.
Meanwhile, the entire class borders on hysteria. We have tears in our eyes, almost suffocating from choking back laughter.
"It’s an emergency," repeated Chris, but it sounded more like a warning.
"Sit."
Silence. Silence, Silence and more silence, until we all began to notice a dark stain on Chris’s khakis. The stain grew. And grew. And grew.
Fists at his sides, stoicism in his face, and a cold, proud, triumphant glint in his eye, Chris locked eye contact with Ms. Mormino.
And pissed right in his pants.
The entire class erupted into a laugh only comparable to the detonation of a bomb.
We laughed so hard for the next five, ten, fifteen minutes straight that Ms. Mormino gave up. Surrendering, putting her head on her desk, she waited until the hysteria finally subsided.
Finally looking up, defeated, pathetic, Ms. Mormino glared at us all and wailed:
”This is too much, this is too hard, too hard, Jesus Christ, this is too much for me!”
A lone voice sounded from the back of the room. Guess whose it was.
"That’s what she said."
Ms. Mormino officially retired from teaching that afternoon.
FUCKING READ IT IT’S WORTH IT
Worth it
john would u boop ur own nose and act all surprised about it for me????? ; v ;
Nathan Explosion is my headcanon Equius voice forever
Lol omg
this is absolutely perfect
Tavros voice doe
Photogenic flower
Hello, I come in peace.... :P
