128x128 transparent ibuprofen png for when u and the discord server want to take ibuprofen together
Certain words can change your brain forever and ever so you do have to be very careful about it.
ppl who werent changed forever by youre gonna go far kid by the offspring when they were like 11 and insanely impressionable you just cant understand me
Pls do not reblog anything with the old disability pride flag, it does cause seizure and migraines, please use the new one which was created by the same person with the feedbacks of many other disabled people.
This is the safe one:
Dont use the zigzag one, your making disabled space inaccessible for a part of the community.
[Image ID: tumblr tags reading “I appreciate the fact that it’s by the same person” and “like a quality of life softwar[e] update but for a flag”. End ID]
patch notes 1.0.1: visual contrast no longer causes strobe effect when scrolling. Zigzag design was difficult to visually process and anxiety inducing, and was removed. Colors have been lightened and desaturated. For the safety of all users, please make sure you are up to date.
HOT DRAGON FACT
some can breathe fire
COOL DRAGON FACT
some can breathe ice
SHOCKING DRAGON FACT
some can breathe lightning
SICK DRAGON FACT
Some can throw up
this is so insanely accurate i dont even know what to say
HERE’S THE THING THOUGH
I used to work for a call center and I was doing a political survey and I called this number that was randomly generated for me and the way our system worked was voice-activated so when the other person said hello you’d get connected to them, so I just launch right into my “Harvard University and NPR blah blah blah” thing and then there’s this long pause and I think the person’s hung up even though I didn’t hear a click
And then I hear “you shouldn’t be able to call this number.”
So I apologize and go into the preset spiel about because we aren’t selling anything, etc. etc. and the answer I get is
“No, I know that. What I mean is that it should be impossible for you to call this number, and I need to know how you got it.”
I explain that it’s randomly generated and I’m very sorry for bothering him, and go to hang up. And before I can click terminate, I hear:
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security.”
I accidentally called the director of the FBI.
My job got investigated because a computer randomly spit out a number to the Pentagon.
kuroba101
This is my new favourite story.
When I was in college I got a job working for a company that manages major air-travel data. It was a temp gig working their out of date system while they moved over to a new one, since my knowing MS Dos apparently made me qualified.
There was no MS Dos involved. Instead, there was a proprietary type-based OS and an actually-uses-transistors refrigerator-sized computer with switches I had to trip at certain times during the night as I watched the data flow from six pm to six AM on Fridays and weekends. If things got stuck, I reset the server.
The company handled everything from low-end data (hotel and car reservations) to flight plans and tower information. I was weighed every time I came in to make sure it was me. Areas of the building had retina scanners on doors.
During training. they took us through all the procedures. Including the procedures for the red phone. There was, literally, a red phone on the shelf above my desk. “This is a holdover from the cold war.” They said. “It isn’t going to come up, but here’s the deal. In case of nuclear war or other nation-wide disaster, the phone will ring. Pick up the phone, state your name and station, and await instructions. Do whatever you are told.”
So my third night there, it’s around 2am and there’s a ringing sound.
I look up, slowly. The Red phone is ringing.
So I reach out, I pick up the phone. I give my name and station number. And I hear every station head in the building do the exact same. One after another, voices giving names and numbers. Then silence for the space of two breaths. Silence broken by…
“Uh… Is Shantavia there?”
It turns out that every toll free, 1-900 or priority number has a corresponding local number that it routs to at its actual destination. Some poor teenage girl was trying to dial a friend of hers, mixed up the numbers, and got the atomic attack alert line for a major air-travel corporation’s command center in the mid-west United States.
There’s another pause, and the guys over in the main data room are cracking up. The overnight site head is saying “I think you have the wrong number, ma’am.” and I’m standing there having faced the specter of nuclear annihilation before I was old enough to legally drink.
The red phone never rang again while I was there, so the people doing my training were only slightly wrong in their estimation of how often the doomsday phone would ring.
Every time I try to find this story, I end up having to search google with a variety of terms that I’m sure have gotten me flagged by some watchlist, so I’m reblogging it again where I swear I’ve reblogged it before.
But none of these stories even come close to the best one of them all; a wrong number is how the NORAD Santa Tracker got started.
Seriously, this is legit.
In December 1955, Sears decided to run a Santa hotline. Here’s the ad they posted.
Only problem is, they misprinted the number. And the number they printed? It went straight through to fucking NORAD. This was in the middle of the Cold War, when early warning radar was the only thing keeping nuclear annihilation at bay. NORAD was the front line.
And it wasn’t just any number at NORAD. Oh no no no.
Terri remembers her dad had two phones on his desk, including a red one. “Only a four-star general at the Pentagon and my dad had the number,” she says.
“This was the ‘50s, this was the Cold War, and he would have been the first one to know if there was an attack on the United States,” Rick says.
The red phone rang one day in December 1955, and Shoup answered it, Pam says. “And then there was a small voice that just asked, ‘Is this Santa Claus?’ ”
His children remember Shoup as straight-laced and disciplined, and he was annoyed and upset by the call and thought it was a joke — but then, Terri says, the little voice started crying.
“And Dad realized that it wasn’t a joke,” her sister says. “So he talked to him, ho-ho-ho’d and asked if he had been a good boy and, ‘May I talk to your mother?’ And the mother got on and said, ‘You haven’t seen the paper yet? There’s a phone number to call Santa. It’s in the Sears ad.’ Dad looked it up, and there it was, his red phone number. And they had children calling one after another, so he put a couple of airmen on the phones to act like Santa Claus.”
“It got to be a big joke at the command center. You know, ‘The old man’s really flipped his lid this time. We’re answering Santa calls,’ ” Terri says.
And then, it got better.
“The airmen had this big glass board with the United States on it and Canada, and when airplanes would come in they would track them,” Pam says.
“And Christmas Eve of 1955, when Dad walked in, there was a drawing of a sleigh with eight reindeer coming over the North Pole,” Rick says.
“Dad said, ‘What is that?’ They say, ‘Colonel, we’re sorry. We were just making a joke. Do you want us to take that down?’ Dad looked at it for a while, and next thing you know, Dad had called the radio station and had said, ‘This is the commander at the Combat Alert Center, and we have an unidentified flying object. Why, it looks like a sleigh.’ Well, the radio stations would call him like every hour and say, ‘Where’s Santa now?’ ” Terri says.
For real.
“And later in life he got letters from all over the world, people saying, ‘Thank you, Colonel,’ for having, you know, this sense of humor. And in his 90s, he would carry those letters around with him in a briefcase that had a lock on it like it was top-secret information,” she says. “You know, he was an important guy, but this is the thing he’s known for.”
“Yeah,” Rick [his son] says, “it’s probably the thing he was proudest of, too.”
So yeah. I think that might be the best wrong number of all time.
Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!
Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.
Modern writing advice: Yes your protagonist should have flaws but ultimately we should root for them and like them from the beginning :)
Charles Dickens: Here is the worst ugliest rudest meanest nastiest bitch you’ve ever met in your life.
Modern writing advice: Make sure your POV character goes through a significant arc! Make sure they are changed by the narrative! Make sure they learn a lesson!
Narrators of every book of the 19th century: the lesson I learned is these people fucking suck, sayonara you freaks
Modern writing advice: It’s all about the character overcoming obstacles and learning! They learn their lesson so they can fix their mistakes and make good choices in the future! It’s a character arc! It’s called growth! Readers love it!
Everyone from ancient times through the 19th century: would you like to watch a Guy fuck up twenty times in a row
figured out a way you can search for posts that are tagged TWO things on a blog!!! feeling clever
for anyone else who didn’t know, this is the format!:
https://[blogURL].tumblr.com/search/%23[tag1]%2C%20%23[tag2]
remove the [brackets] when using it!
mods are asleep, share hacks that make the site usable against its will
reblog to bonk the person you reblogged it from with a hollow cardboard tube
caroldanvers
ladiesplusjunk
that’s how you make armor for women, no bullshit boob cups.
norcumi
Just beautiful.
boneswolf
want
Boob cups must be the most uncomfortable things on earth… What the hell are you supposed to do when one of your boobs slips out? Let’s say you inhale or move your chest somehow so your breasts get free from the cup and end up clipped on the edge?? You can’t even pull them like you can when your bra gets all screwed up! Like who wants to wear that while they’re fighting monsters and shit?
I hit reblog so hard I may have sprained my finger
boob cups could also kill you. If you fall on your chest, all your weight will be on the middle of the boob cups and your sternum could be crushed. bye bye heart.
tsuki-nekota
and the fact that this is the Mulan from “Once Upon a Time” makes it even better
I like the armour! And boob cups are apparently a taboo.
official boob post
the catholic old white guy asked me to explain lgbtq+ to him and it was honestly kind of funny
“okay! you have 15 seconds to explain non-binary to me if there are only male and female genders”
me: if you lost your genitals would you still feel like a man?
“no”
would you feel like a woman?
“no?”
so you wouldn’t feel male or female
“yeah what’s your point?”
So, you wouldn’t fit into the gender binary of male or female? :)
him:
“so non-binary just means not feeling male or female?”
Yeah basically
“so why do they use “they” so much”?
if you were a woman would you want to be called a man?
“no…”
And the opposite?
“no…”
Why why would you want someone to call you male or female if you’re not male or female then?”
it’s not a perfect way of thinking but i had 15 seconds and i think it got the point across
this plant is kudzu. aka 'the vine that ate the south'. a damaging invasive plant that’s a nuisance to the local area in this video. Now look at those moos go
Oh, right. The cows. The cows for kudzu, the cows chosen especially to kill kudzu, kudzu's cows. Those cows?
Pedestrian affirmations:
YOU ARE INVINCIBLE
AUTOMOBILES TREMBLE AT THE SIGHT OF YOU
GOD'S DIVINE LIGHT SHIELDS YOU
CROSSWALKS ARE YOUR HOLY PATH TO SALVATION
Sorry to everyone who’s enjoyed the last 130 years of science and culture journalism, but Disney needs the money to fund Toy Story 9
