10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.

AAAND WE HAVE LIFTOFF!

HAPPY MOON LANDING DAY!!!

Hey. Why isn’t the moon landing a national holiday in the US. Isn’t that fucked up? Does anyone else think that’s absurd?

It was a huge milestone of scientific and technological advancement. (Plus, at the time, politically significant). Humanity went to space! We set foot on a celestial body that was not earth for the first time in human history! That’s a big deal! I’ve never thought about it before but now that I have, it’s ridiculous to me that that’s not part of our everyday lives and the public consciousness anymore. Why don’t we have a public holiday and a family barbecue about it. Why have I never seen the original broadcast of the moon landing? It should be all over the news every year!

It’s July 20th. That’s the day of the moon landing. Next year is going to be the 54th anniversary. I’m ordering astronaut shaped cookie cutters on Etsy and I’m going to have a goddamn potluck. You’re all invited.

Hey. Hey. Tumblr. Ides of March ppl. We can do this

Happy moon landing day!

me when i'm happy: i deserve a little treat

me when i'm sad: fuck it i deserve a little treat

me when i'm neutral: you know what'd make this day so much better........a lil treat

even with those four numbers there are countless possible combinations good luck with figuring out which one is the right one you punk

*straightens calculator*

It’s pretty likely that it’s a four digit number, and as there are four digits chosen there, that means that there cannot be any repetition. This mean that there are:

n!/(n-4)! possible orders. As ‘n’ is 4 (number of digits available). 4!/0! which becomes 4x3x2x1/1 which simplifies to 24. That means that there are 24 possible combinations of codes. This would take you about two or three minutes to input all possible codes.

Unless an alarm goes off if you don’t get it right in 3 tries

*straightens calculator again*

Kick the fucking door in

well ‘technically’ the code is most likley 1970. statistically, a majority of people, when told to choose a 4 digit code will choose their birth year. and this key pad is obviously a few years old to put it nicely, thats most likley it. 

some sherlock holmes shit just went down over here

No, no, no. Don’t base your deductions of psychology. Let’s talk chemistry. When you first press a button, there’s more of the natural oils on your skin, and therefore it wears down the numbers on the keys faster. Obviously 0 is the first one, then. Try 0791 first.

Sherlock out.

woah.

it got better

and this is why the sherlock fandom could either rule the world or end it….

Close, but not quite, I think. People will almost always choose a number they can remember. What’s memorable about 0791? Try 0719 - a birthday, 19th of July. That is more likely.

Those deductions are great and all, but unnecessary.

The light is green.

The door is already open.

And that’s why we have a John Watson.

This is “top 10 favorite posts” level.

Omg, it’s actually on my dash! This post is like a fossil!

This time I actually read it out loud

thinking about whether the true self is the first raw reaction we show as a response to an event or the reaction that takes time to simmer and ponder before it’s acted out. Is the true self what acts when we don’t actively think? Or is it what we apply our personal philosophy onto?

it's hilarious that people on here act like this website is spooky and it's scaring twitter refugees away like no bro the new user experience just fuckin sucks and there's not enough porn

I turn the key in the front door of my house and there is the sound of a massive engine turning over as the house revves up and drives off into the sunset never to be seen again

Tuesday, July 18th, 2023

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oh, eww, that's a twitter style UI on the left. ew yucky yucky yuck, no get it off.

what would you do if that was you?

this is one of the few instances where watching the entire video was worth the punchline at the very end

Length of Years: A Rapunzel Retelling

The woman in the tower brushed her hair. It had long ago turned white, and had grown to cover most of the floor in her little stone room. She braided it with lightning speed, her gnarled fingers confidently completing the familiar task.

Her gaze wandered through the chamber filled with the works of a lifetime. Tapestries she'd woven. Books she'd read and written. Dresses she'd designed. Plants she'd carefully tended until flowering vines framed her one window to the outside world. Evidence of arts she'd mastered, skills she'd developed--once sources of pride and joy, and now simply the remains of an empty life.

Now that her mother was dead, what did she have to live for? She'd sacrificed her life out of loyalty to the woman who'd given her everything; she'd never dreamed that someday she'd be the one left alone. This tower room had been her world; now that world seemed pathetically small. A dismal showing for so many decades.

She sang to banish the thoughts--song was her only weapon in her war against the hostile silence. The song was a light ditty from her younger years, about a bird in a cage, flying free. She'd sang that song often, once upon a time, to an awestruck audience. The only visitor this tower had ever held.

Unbidden, he appeared before her mind's eye. Young. Strong. Dark-haired. Square-jawed. With scarred hands and a dimpled chin and laughing eyes. He'd come to see her, day after day, and filled her world with a joy she'd never before known.

He'd asked her to leave with him; she'd refused, for Mother's sake, again and again, until he'd spoken so abusively against Mother that she grew offended for her sake, and told him to leave and never return. He'd obeyed her wishes, as he always had, and now she had nothing left of him but memory and regret.

She sang all the stronger as the memory turned to sorrow. She'd had her chance and thrown it away. Time had devoured any hope she'd ever had. What was the use of wishing otherwise? She was, and would be, now and forever, alone.

Even the song couldn't change that, so she stopped singing.

And in the silence, she heard a voice.

Transphobes often say gender is like a coin, either heads or tails. They're more right than they realize.

Gender is a coin. Everybody is given one at birth, and they're given it either heads or tails. You can flip it over. You can flip it back. You can keep flipping it all you want. You can balance it on its side. You can throw it away. You can get a new one. You can take it to the zoo or museum to one of thise penny press machines. You can melt it and reform it. You can keep it melted. You could even take someone else's. You can glue fun things to it. You can paint it. You can take the paint off. You can trade them for cool shit.

Transphobes often say gender is a coin. They say this not realizing how easily coins can be changed.