down for the clown

Positive things about the Oscar Isaac Hamlet because I swear I’m trying
  • First off, Keegan Michael Key played the stand in for Old Hamlet in the dumb show and did a fake death that I swear went on for about three minutes and had me ROARING. Half the actors were visibly laughing when it was clear they were not supposed to
  • After “And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them; for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered:
    that’s villanous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it,” all of the other players stared significantly at Key and he got all offended and it was HILARIOUS

OSCAR:

  • He was the first and only Hamlet I’ve ever seen that was princely and justified all those lines about Hamlet being beloved by the common man. He was charismatic, magnetic, and charming AS WELL AS complicated and sad
  • Every single soliloquy (perhaps with the exception of To be or not to be, which…I blame the director) was outstanding. He gave me the stand up comedian Hamlet I’ve been longing for and there were lines in that play I heard for the first time because of him
  • The balance of comedic madness with very real depression was flawless.  Also, he took off his pants every single time he was “mad”
  • For the first time, I didn’t want to punch Hamlet in the balls for leaping into Ophelia’s grave. His sorrow was so profoundly believable, I stopped thinking about how shitty a thing it was to do
  • His VERSE SPEAKING ABILITY WAS IMPECCABLE. He was on his voice, the language was in his body from head to toe, and he achieved that magic alchemy of balancing heightened language with rooted emotion. He found the poetry AND the simplicity. 

In short, Oscar Isaac should play every single major Shakespeare role forever and ever. He’s Laurence Olivier, John Gielgud, Ian McKellen good. And I don’t think that’s an exaggeration.

Point of no return

I’m passed that point
Whatever it was
Wherever it was
Whenever it was
I’ve passed it
That point of no return
Whatever the meaning
I’m not for redeeming
No redemption
That’s my life’s damnation
Life
What is the point?
I have no idea
I just know I’m here
And I’ve passed it
Not looking back
Don’t give Jack
But that point
It never goes away
Here to stay
In my fucking brain
Driving me insane
Society’s derision
At my every decision
But they weren’t my rules
Made by fools
Don’t do that
Must do this
Privileged wankers
Taking the piss
So I did things my way
Then had to pay
For taking them down
Fucking clowns
Pleasure was mine
At that time but then
Got Her Majesty’s time
Held my own
Was never owned
Years gone
Time done
Finished my sentence
But from me you’ll get no repentance
I’m out now, thru the gate
But it’s too late
To go straight
I’m passed that point
Whatever it was
Wherever it was
Whenever it was
I’ve passed it
That point of no return
Always now be one
An ex-con
Trusting no-one
Think I’ve learnt
Not to get burnt
But that time
When the decisions were mine
Always crap
So took the rap
But
I’m passed that point
That point of no return
And it
Will stay in the past
Until I am finally passed
Not out on the floor
But away through the door
To meet my creator
My soul’s undertaker
As it’s clear to everyone
I am Beelzebub’s son

anonymous asked:

how dare you say Sweden is being helped by refugees when it is now the rape capital of the world and women can't even walk down the street in peace.

You fucking clown.

1) Sweden’s definition of rape is now broader than any other country in the world.  For example, what would be considered sexual harassment in one country is considered to be rape in Sweden.  It’s not that Sweden suffers from more rapes than other countries; it’s that other countries don’t define as many acts of sexual violence as rape as does Sweden.

2) There is zero correlation between the intake of refugees and any increase in sexual violence in Sweden, as we’ve already pointed out

3) In fact, it appears that refugees are less-likely to commit crimes than native-born Swedes.  Just like in Germany and the UK and the US.

So take your racist scapegoating bollocks and shove it up your arse.

the signs as abandoned places

ARIES Abandoned gas stations, beholders of tumbleweeds and roadside tales, filled with dead fuel yet frozen in time, eyes on the passengers with their hands and hair out the window, haunted by old desert songs and engines revving behind it.

TAURUS: Abandoned bars, stools turned over, a ripped flyer shouting BABES BABES BABES hanging off the bulletin board, a lost motorcycle tire, glass shattered, and the spirit of hell still living somewhere inside.

GEMINI Ghost towns, at the base of old mountains, houses with shutters like eyes and doors like mouths, swallowing stories whole, convenience stores still stocked with stale bread, cabins and headstones still peeking out from behind fairy wood brambles, nature stretching into steel, ready to come alive with a shift of the wind.

CANCER: Abandoned motels, empty pools filled with deflated flamingos, the sign out front screaming VACANCY forever, each room a different anthology of guest book tales, smashed television monitors and a love note ( or goodbye note ) caught up in the rust of the honeymoon suite.

LEO: Abandoned theaters, stages dented with the ghosts of performances past, torn scripts scattered across floorboards in a mess of Playbills and shattered eyeglasses, broken lights and tattered dress hems, mannequins poised at an eternal act one.

VIRGO Abandoned train stations, cars sprayed in a kaleidoscope of graffiti, drifters still starting fires in some of the shells, grass growing over old gears, ghost conductors with no destination, rails intersecting at odd angles like flowers and bones.

LIBRA Abandoned campgrounds, rattlesnakes and desert blues, dead hot and forgotten, a shelled-out RV and the dry lake where the kids used to play, swallowing up broken toys and flat tents, showers crawling with critters, vintage t-shirts printed with campground bears promising that it’s still “the happiest place on earth.”

SCORPIO Abandoned amusement parks, soggy coaster cars paused mid-ascension, cheap thrills and screams still stagnant in the air, ferris wheels trembling in the wind, clown faces distorted and torn down the middle, a mascot head smiling out from the overgrowth.

SAGITTARIUS Abandoned renaissance fairs, an acre out of time, fake pirate ships swinging, fairy wings trying to fly, dead flower crowns tangled with bright ribbons and peasant blouses shed by the lake, empty squares and old stage buildings, Arthur’s sword caught at the entry, still waiting to be pulled.

CAPRICORN Abandoned toy stores, broken pinball machines, ghost clowns, and popped balloons, playing cards stuck to the floor, a crooked house of childhood horrors, teddy bears bleeding stuffing, and a funhouse mirror distorting the distorted. 

AQUARIUS: Abandoned piers, driftwood split down the middle, coastline the last alive thing, neon lights still calling Gatsby home from the horizon, but promising only the ghosts of mermaids washed ashore, tires and bottles filled with sand, dead trees spouting from old rocks, branches a wind chime of ripped dresses, forks, and seashells on strings.

PISCES: Abandoned waterparks, slides overlooking entire old cities, perfect for climbing, hoses and pools now scrawled over and used as skateboard ramps, kids climbing over the old towers and ladders in their bathing suits when it rains, pure want as their tickets in, yelling, “We’re still here, we’re still here, we’re still here!”

can’t get no respect

[or, how to lose the respect of each sign]

aries can’t stand those who back down from a fight. If you’re the type that doesn’t deal with shit head-on, hesitate during a crucial moment, or use underhanded means to achieve your ends, aries won’t give you no respect!

taurus can’t deal with impatient, temperamental, or controlling personalities. If you’re competitive, always in a hurry, and have no chill, chances are, they think you’re an idiot. Overly-emotional, impractical people get no respect from taurus.

gemini hates boring people. That’s pretty much it- you might be the most horrible person ever, like a serial killer or some shit, but as long as you’re interesting, gemini is down to clown. The second you start to bore them, you won’t get no respect.

cancer doesn’t like people who joke about emotions, lack sympathy, or poke fun at their flaws (even playfully). If you’re a sagittarius loud, flaky, and always have to be out and doing something, instead of enjoying the comfort of family and home, cancer can’t respect you.

leo doesn’t like stingy, serious, reserved personalities. If you’re a capricorn tight-fisted workaholic who can’t just let loose and have fun, stay away. If you withhold praise and affection, the lion won’t give you no respect.

virgos are grossed out by lots of shit egotistical personalities. If you’re the type to brag, fish for compliments, or hog the spotlight, keep away. People who are irresponsible, gloss over details, and don’t play by the rules, get no respect from virgo. 

libra can’t stand selfish people. If you put yourself first, take more than you give in a relationship, or are prone to being blunt and tactless, do libra a favor and gtfo. Those who create awkward situations or hurt others, even inadvertently, get no respect from libra.

scorpio hates lots of shit, but if you’re shallow, fake, or prone to bending the truth for any reason, you’re basically dead to them. Tbh, scorpio is tied with gemini when it comes to hating boring (uncomplicated) people. If you’re not deep, or only pretend to be ‘deep’ to seem cool, scorpio will give u NO respect.

sagittarius can’t stand nit-pickers or worry warts. If you’re afraid of roller-coasters, spiders, etc, that’s fine. Sags understand fear. But, if you’re too much of a coward to try to conquer your fear, sagittarius automatically loses respect. If you’re bogged down by fear or focus on little details/flaws, just stay away.

capricorns don’t have respect for whiners or rule-breakers. If you can’t deal with your problems independently and maturely, if you stir up unnecessary trouble, and if you half-ass your work (esp in a group project) cap will give u no respect.

aquarius doesn’t care for stupidity. If you’re ignorant, bigoted, and let your emotions run amok instead of thinking things through logically, aquarius has no respect for you. Republicans and traditionalists, keep your distance.

pisces is a lot like libra. If you’re selfish or lack sympathy, you are not okay in their book. Also, if you’re too focused on material details, like being on time, thinking too much about money, and preoccupied with fleeting, earthly issues, pisces will give u no respect. 

The signs as song lyrics I've written

Aries:
Never been in a fight but I want to fight
Fight a bitch at night
The dark is cool
Fuck school
Wanna destroy everything
Including you

Taurus:
Just woke up messy hair
Attitude I don’t care
Should i even get up and start the day
Does it matter if i do shit anyway

Gemini:
Thought, thought, thought,
I thought if I thought a lot
Maybe my thoughts could learn to stop
I feel my brain beginning to rot
They are so fucking loud
Overcrowd
All around
Up and down
I’m starting to look like a fucking clown

Cancer:
What am I feeling right now?
I feel like a drifting cloud
Full of storm water
Today rain is all I’ve got to offer
What’s wrong with me?
Changing tides like the sea
I can be a deadly storm
A catastrophe
Or calm and cool, my bottom lurking with things unseen

Leo:
I love the way you fuck me 
Baby this is how you want me, thirsty 
I beg love me love me 
Love me more than i love you 
At night i feel so ugly

Virgo:
But not you, youre alive not dead
I hear all the voices that go on it your head
They never calm but you find peace in them
Taking their words of wisdom
They sing inside your lovely mind
You hum along, intertwined

Libra:
I’m sitting in front of the man of my dreams
Love his dick, give me that cream
His face is amazing, it makes me want to sing
His voice is as lovely spring

Scorpio:
Sometimes I think I see god
But then I open my eyes and it’s the same shit all around
Breath in the toxins of a cigarette
It’s all I got sometimes, wanna drown out the sound
Talk to a few and that’s fun
But real quick im done

Sagittarius:
If I could see your soul, I’m sure it’d be a work of art
Like a painting on a canvas, painted by the heart
You know you’re a masterpiece
A genius in disguise
I wish I could see what you see through your eyes

Capricorn:
If there’s one last thing
I gotta sing
it’s that there’s no possibly
Just possible I am the unstoppable
Incomparable hear these words and know it’s me
I do not go unseen
(This one’s written by my boyfriend)

Aquarius:
I’m so tired everyday
I want life to be so extraordinary that more than half the time I wouldnt know what to feel or say
Wheres my burning passion?
Melancholy, my minds gray.
Why care when you feel useless why give a fuck, this world is strange

Pisces:
You got me and you got me down for you and you only
Baby, look at me, I want you to be the one to own me
Devil or angel, you’re my sweet, lovely baby.
Tell me angel, have you looked in a mirror lately?

it’s not a big deal but my entire life when i was funny i was sassy. i think about that a lot. about how sometimes my brother would tell the same stories, same inflections, same characters - but he was clever, he was funny. i was just… sassy. my sarcasm and sharp tongue and wit were always whittled down into kind of a bitch. when he was the class clown or a riot or a great guy, i was a problem student who couldn’t shut up, a disruption, an attention whore. i talked less than him. kept the ice to a minimum. pulled the bow of my arrow voice a little shorter than he did. he could step over lines and dance between them with entire rooms laughing. but when i did that, i was kind of full of myself. i was seen as loud, overly dramatic; my humor too dark or too quick or too feminine.

there’s power in making people laugh. it draws you into them. it’s a good thing to feel you’re making someone happy. i watch boys at parties who are so funny and everyone loves him and how they cackle and howl and never worry they’re taking up too much of their audience’s attention. how when i chime in, when i’m just as funny - if not funnier than them - all hell breaks loose. how fast they get vicious to me. how fast they turn their comments onto my personality. how fast they scramble to be the center of attention again: in an instant, the funny stories become snide comments. and i’m quiet again. 

sassy girl gets told to sit down. she gets called up to the front of the class because oh, if you’re so smart, why don’t you teach the lesson. sassy girl gets cast as villain in all her musicals, because princesses don’t use the bitterness in their souls. sassy is ugly ursula, is wicked witch, is snide sidekick. sassy girl makes you laugh when you’ve been crying so much you feel sick. sassy girl listens to you while you spill your secrets, knows when to make a joke and when to take thing serious. tell the cuban girl she’s sassy, watch her eyes roll, watch her heat up, use that latin anger that whips in octopus tentacles out of her. she takes everything so seriously. she needs to calm down, practice ladylike, less swears and less blasphemy and less sassy.

my brother easily relates to “funny.” my brother and most boys i know pride themselves on their humor. they know they can throw a comment into the air and have it stick to the wall of their peers, they know even if it doesn’t land, everyone will just cover their ears. it’s not a big deal. it’s just if you have two people in equal situations, like a brother and a sister both with the same shared timing and humor and stories - some even stolen from each other word for word and with exact phrasing - and if one of those people is treated differently, usually something strange is happening. it’s not a big deal. it’s just i don’t really ever hear girls called funny. 

I think I will only accept a lion shuffle if it’s literally everyone ends up with a different lion.

Like, oops, Allura was actually TOTALLY FUCKING WRONG about EVERYONE because she had literally just met them 20 minutes ago.

Black - Lance (sure okay why not let’s give it a shot I’m down to clown, develops leadership qualities, this is reminding me of the pirate captain from Stardust for some reason, ‘the heart of the team’, Will listen to everyone and make the right call (eventually))

Yellow - Keith (Really works with his impulsiveness tbh?, The yellow lion makes him slow down and think b/c he can’t just bolt in, Will pull back and make everyone think twice, Sees the Big Picture better than everyone else on the team, No your family/Allura are not more important than the rest of the entire universe guys)

Green - Hunk (nosy, interested in learning, wants to touch EVERYTHING, will steal and read your diary and go through your files, crazy smart and eager to question)

Red - Pidge (I’m gunna BREAK INTO THE GG and SIT AT YOUR COMPUTER AND READ YOUR FILES then SCREAM AT YOU, openly impulsive and quick to temper, often takes the bullheaded approach, Will do her own thing regardless of what others think)

Blue - Shiro (The one that keeps the group together and calm, Moral support and there to listen, Will encourage you and make you feel like you can do anything)

anonymous asked:

okay so u told us how to summon the devil but all i wanna know is how to summon a sea bear from spongebob

The following are ways that attract the Sea Bear:

  • Playing the clarinet badly
  • Waving your flashlight back and forth really fast (Patrick says flashlights are their natural prey)
  • Stomping the ground (SpongeBob says they take it as a challenge)
  • Eating cubed cheese; sliced is safe
  • Wearing a sombrero in a goofy fashion (such as upside down)
  • Wearing clown shoes
  • Wearing a hoop skirt
  • Screeching like a chimpanzee (From how SpongeBob and Patrick repeat never, this is a VERY big attractor)
  • Running (makes them attack you again)
  • Limping (worse than running)
  • Crawling (even worse than limping)

(long post, sorry)

In spite of everything I love Harley Quinn but, damn, writers treat her so badly. I swear, the temptation to make her actually stupid must be terrible because it’s so often implied, or explicitly stated, that she slept her way through school. First of all, it does not work like that.  Second, she’s not a therapist or a psychologist, she’s a psychiatrist, she’s a fricking MD and a damn young one too. Managing pre-med and collegiate gymnastics that she relied on to keep her scholarship? Harley is fucked up, but she’s not the dumb blonde she plays. (also stop making her stacked, she’s a gymnast. she is 4’11” of pure muscle and is not top heavy)

If you want a good Harley backstory it’s simple. She’s ADHD but medicated and slightly robotic because of it. I want to take special care not to demonize meds but, rather, people’s disapproval of neurodivergence and a lack of focus on what is best for a patient rather than what is most convenient for others. So, maybe, around ten years old Harley is a hyperactive space cadet who’s brilliant at tests but sloppy at coursework, who would be a gymnastics prodigy if she could actually focus on technique and put in practice time instead of fooling around. Then the meds come and it’s actually really cool because she can do the things she needs to do instead of just wanting to do them, doing something else entirely, and getting in trouble. People are proud of her, she’s proud of herself. But now there are expectations. Family and teachers and coaches overschedule her, find worth only in her success and don’t care about her mental health at all as long as she’s performing and castigate her when she does fail. Fuck if you don’t internalize that. But she doesn’t look unhealthy and she’s doing amazing. She actually has to choose between the Olympic trials and continuing her grad studies. She probably has some issues with self-harm but it either doesn’t look like self-harm or is well covered up. 

When Arkham accepts her, fresh from her residency, it’s not a mistake. The woman is amazing. All they can see is a mountain of achievements rather than the seething ball of nerves, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome boiling just under the surface. That’s when Joker comes in. He’s got the Hannibal Lecter shtick down. Where everyone else sees an intelligent driven young woman he sees a frightened overwhelmed girl who is working her hardest to convince the world she’s anyone other than herself. Sending her into a nervous breakdown would be too easy so he doesn’t even bother. Instead he’s open with her, almost friendly. The other doctors are amazed, Harley is amazed, she’s not done anything particularly revolutionary but, for the first time in forever, it looks like the clown prince of crime is showing progress. He unravels her and it’s a challenge, she flinches back and gets very serious when he comes too close to the real Harley under the professional. Still, soon she’s questioning everything. She doesn’t even really like her co-workers. She hasn’t had a real friend in years. She’s forgotten how to have fun. Did she ever want this to be her life or did she just do it for other people? It starts so slowly that it looks, at first, like she’s getting better at self-care. Maybe something totally silly one weekend, a trampoline park where she can enjoy the way her toned body moves without stressing out over landings, a face painting booth at a street fair, some garishly colored downright tacky decoration that clashes with her sensible apartment. Suddenly she realizes how much she hates knowing the difference between cream and ecru. The beigeness of her life is repulsive. She hates the person she’s pretending to be even more that she hates herself which is really saying something.

After her weekend of freedom she would have called in sick if it wasn’t so suddenly important to see him. The relief she feels at talking to one of Gotham’s most infamous supercriminals is disturbing but it is relief and she’s been swallowing a slow-motion panic attack for hours. She admits, though she shouldn’t, that she took his advice about doing something fun and he teases her, what would straight-laced Doctor Quinzel do for fun? Did she realphabetize her sock drawer or buy a new clipboard? It’s not important to impress him, it’s really not. He’s dangerous, cruel, and he looks so proud when she admits that she bought a lamp shaped like a lawn flamingo. The only mistake, he says, is that she should have stolen it. She hopes the wicked thrill it gives her doesn’t show on her face. It does. She almost even laughs. He likes it when he can make her laugh and she likes it when he likes things.

It’s wrong and unprofessional, the relationship she develops, and she knows it but her whole life she’s been so high strung. Nothing she’s done has been for her, she’s not sure she knows how to really do selfish things anymore, but he knows the selfish things she needs to do. It feels good when she follows his advice even when it’s small things like the rainbow striped socks she wears concealed under her very bland slacks and sensible shoes. She’s so happy, almost giddy, and he loves her happiness, he loves her, he loves the real her that she’s had to beat down and hide for so long, the her that even she isn’t able to love. She is able to love him, though, and since he loves her she’s able to love herself for him, to protect and nurture something so important to him.

When the choice comes between her old self, the tedious endless labor of making the world proud, and Him, the spectacular man that brought color into her life, it’s not even a question. She kills Doctor Harleen Quinzel, she throws away the version of her that let herself burn just for medals and hollow accolades. She embraces Harley Quinn and it’s so much a part of her nature she can’t even see that she’s still living her life for someone else’s approval, except this time that person is a murderous clown. She hasn’t let her hair down, she’s just put it in pigtails instead of a bun.