The Rip Offs


“The mask was really tough at times because, when we were fighting out in the June or July sun and we were just doing those sequences, I would just have to literally rip it off my face and just breathe. The whole process of putting that thing on was about 30 to 40 minutes. Taking it off is 30 to 40 minutes. So in the process of putting it on, there was always that thing of like, ‘All right, well, here we go,’ you know. And then, of course, there were moments where it was like, ‘Oh my God, please get me out of this. I think I’m going to fall over. I know I’m going to pass out today.’

anonymous asked:

i love that you posted that message and not the one where i throw you under the bus by pandering and ripping off your fans. every one else sees your game. why do you think no other self respecting musician wants anything to do with you? i respected you when it was about the music, now its about you doing whatever will make your rich white fans throw money your way. boring. fucking unbearably boring. i hope your integrity was worth whatever you can swindle from some equally boring teenagers.

hahaha, i can’t even believe this. you are honest to god one of the most delusional (pretend i used a less fucked up word) people to ever contact me. i didn’t respond to your other message because it was mean and weird and didn’t make any sense, but here it is in case anyone wants to see me get “thrown under the bus”.

there, they read it……..did you do it? have you ruined my career yet? when should i expect all of my supporters to suddenly turn their backs on me now that you’ve successfully opened their eyes with your brilliant assessment of how the world works?

like yeah, you’re right. you got me. i do in fact spend thousands of dollars of my own money to purchase things in bulk so i can get their per unit cost down to something reasonable, then i sell them to people at an increased price to justify the time and effort it takes to produce, stock, package, and ship that item. that increased price is supposed to cover the original cost of the item, the price it takes to print more of that item, and then hopefully, you know, some type of living wage on top of all other expenses.

what i just had to describe to your baby ass is called “economics”. it’s how literally every business, store, or record label on the planet functions.

i get it, you don’t like me. you don’t like my art, you don’t like my fans. i don’t know what you expect anyone to say to your overly entitled ass other than “sorry”. like really, i’m sorry. it must suck being so unbelievably fucking stupid that you’d rather complain about what’s on tv than just change the fucking channel. 

when i don’t respond to your next message, don’t think it’s because you “got me” in any way, it’s because i’m busy and my arms are getting tired from dragging you across this website. 

I’m actually really upset over this whole instagram thing. And it probably shouldn’t bother me but UGHHHH I don’t know what to do in situations like this.

Also if you’ve ever collabed with me, especially with January, I recommend going to check out the page because they’ve probably stolen one of your pictures. :( I guess report and block it.

some quick avarice au thoughts

He’d watch everyone he ever loved die and leave him? Fine. He’d been there already.

Doing bad-no, not just bad, awful things on a day to day basis and enjoying it? Been there, done that, got the postcard, did the jail time.

No, what really sucked about being a demon was that he couldn’t get a fucking beer in the Dreamscape. The entire pool of the collective unconsciousness of humanity (thanks for the words Ford) and not a god damn can of Bud to be had anywhere for love or money. He had to deal with a ton of airy-fairy bullshit; he could see people’s feelings, could eat their dreams but couldn’t kick back with a cold one? Or a good cigar?


What a rip off.

(His kids quickly learned the best sacrifice for him was a six pack of beer.)

He recruits Dipper in coming up with some kind of name for rubes to use for him, because even Stan knows he can’t go by Stan Pines when he’s doing this demon shit. When Dipper gives him a list, Stan only makes it as far as Ophiuchus, before he decides fuck it, his demon name (and Stan can’t believe he’s saying that with a straight face) is Yelnats.

Dipper looked like Stan had punched Santa in the face and kicked Rudolph in the nuts.

“But, but Grunkle Stan! People will be able to just guess your real name and, and they’ll use it against you!”

Stan grinned. It wasn’t a nice grin.

“Kid, I’m old and ain’t no one making me do anything I don’t want to. They can try.”

(Sometimes the triplets shortened his name to Grunknats. Then there was the fateful day that Acacia accidentally said Grunknads, and Mabel fell out of her chair laughing.)


Stan does his very best to scare the living shit out of Henry when he comes over for the first time.

(And he doesn’t care that Mabel is shooting him dirty looks and practically has “I can take care of myself” flashing over her head, he’s an old fashioned guy, and this is part of the whole thing with new boyfriends.)

Henry was the first kid that actually stood his ground, even though Stan could smell the fear rolling off of him in waves. Even held out his hand to shake still.

Stan had a good feeling about this guy.

The old burn scar was no longer on his back.

Instead it was on his right wing, forever a part of him no matter what shape or form he took.

Stan’s Mindscape was in many ways a carbon copy of the Shack that still existed on the physical plane.

What was nice about the Mindscape was that he was able to get as creative and wild as he wanted with his exhibits, pulling off stuff that would have been completely impossible back in the real world.

That he was using the souls of his enemies to make these sculptures was a plus.

The only downside was that Mabel and Henry refused to let the triplets come over to his version of the Shack until they were teenagers.

(Well, maybe because he kept his issues of Fully Clothed Women and Tomorrow’s Man out on the tables as well, but hey, his Shack, his rules.)


Stan knew that both his dweeby brother and Dipper thought that he was criminally wasting his powers, the opportunities that being a demon afforded him.

But honestly?

At the end of the day Stan was a simple man, and wanted nothing more than to kick back and watch some TV.

That being said, he did rig the TV in the Shack to play shows from every possible dimension. More TV than even he could keep up with…. It was a dream come true.

(It wasn’t until first grade that the triplets realized that not everyone had grown up with The Sampsons or Friendship is Prestidigitation.)


His Ma used to pat Stan on the cheek all the time and mutter, “You’re gonna outlive us all kid.”

He and Ford used to laugh about it, albeit a little nervously. That was just Ma being Ma.

As he watched Dipper’s casket be lowered into the ground, he thought about those words again.

Goddamnit she was right, she had been right the whole time, and they hadn’t known.

its been said before but ill say it again, the reason tumblr updates have gotten continuously worse, continuously more and more out of touch with the needs of its user base is bc it was bought out with the sole intention of turning it into something its not. yahoo wants to rip off the design and function of other social media sites bc ‘facebook is popular and makes money’ and they dont have the skill or marketing power to build their own site from scratch so they decided to just buy one and do whatever they want with it.
clearly staff wants to dictate how we use this site instead of the needs and demands of its users driving changes like an actual logical process. they also clearly don’t understand how social media sites work. one social media site will naturally monopolize a certain niche bc everyone using that type of social media wants to be on the same site as everyone else. so there can only be one facebook, one twitter, one youtube, etc. tumblr filled a specific niche but its not the niche yahoo wants so fuck everything apparently.

When the person in yo’ lunch party,

is trying to scold you that sushi is never a finger food, you kinda wanna say, “Ummm, look, BarbieGirl, my family been Japanese since way back so I know it totes is finger food. And if we gonna be critiquin’, then know the chef is dying on the inside every time you f*cking rip that fish off, dip it in the soy sauce, and then slap it back on the rice like it’s a piece of ding-dang duct tape.”

But, instead, I silently glared at her, hoping her head would magically fall off.   

Violently slams face against book every time Mr Poe tells the Baudelaires that Count Olaf in disguise is not Count Olaf

How the fuck did I read all 13 of these books as a child without SCREAMING at the pages holy fucking shIT MR POE YOU HAVE ONE FUCKING JOB OH MY SWEET JESUS LORD, MAN YOU ARE BEYOND INCOMPETENT IT’S COUNT FUCKING OLAF YOU NITWIT