yeah I just love this new meme so much you know the way it just [clenches fist] came out of nowhere

Hey, hey, don’t steal my meme hating. I was doing meme hating while you were still in diapers. Or perhaps when was in diapers. I can’t remember that far back. In any case: get off my lawn!

"Get off my lawn" is an overdone meme.

I remember a post where someone claimed J. R. R. Tolkien as their favorite fictional grandpa. I’m calling RAW.

ArtistRobert Anton Wilson
TitleOn Harvey and Irish Folklore
AlbumOn the Holy Guardian Angel

"A poem for the Strange Times", Ratatosk the Squirrel, Intermittens 3

I must admit that never before
were times like these in the days of yore.
Why can you imagine? What kind of a change,
will happen since they’ve developed the “flame”
and that newfangled wheel? Strange Times we live in!

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Interests (Improved List)

I liked my last interests list, but I wanted to make it more compact and accessible, so I split up roughly everything I’m really into talking about into 8 groups. If you want to chat about one of these things or get an explanation of what the hell it is, my askbox is always open.

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"sir, the enemy gave us a giant wooden horse"

"oh rad bring it in"

(via jonpertwee)

Why I Can’t Have Nice Things

"Who are those people?" I asked, pointing to the group of people at the furthest table.

"The Tobins." said Amanda, leaning in conspiratorially.

"They’re Ms. Tobin’s foster kids. They moved down here from Alaska or Canada, like, a few years ago. They kinda keep to themselves." said Imogen.

"Yeah, because they’re all together. None of them date. Uh, the blonde girl, that’s Maddy, and the big dark-haired guy, Andy, they’re totally a thing. I’m not even sure that’s legal."

"Amanda, they’re not actually related."

"Yeah, but they live together. It’s weird-and, okay, the little dark-haired girl is Karen. She’s really quiet, and she’s with Percy, the blonde one who looks like he’s in pain." Amanda finished.

"And what about her?" I asked, pointing to the dark-haired one scowling at the end of the table."

"She’s Karen, I just said-"

"No, the one to her right."

Amanda followed the trajectory of my finger with her eyes.

"There’s no one there."

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Every day, I remember that this book is published and I’m not.

Statement of Intent

Once I graduate college I’m going to travel the world. My money will come from writing, editing, publishing, acting, directing, producing, recording, photographing and working odd jobs. I’ll travel by plane, train, bike and foot everywhere I like, and I will carry everything I need with me. I’ll hitchhike, couchsurf, camp and explore with reckless abandon. I will take the road less traveled, freed from the expenses of owning a car, supporting a family or paying a mortgage, and I will do everything in my power to enjoy myself instead of being trapped in some consumerist retelling of the American Dream.

When I was growing up, many people tried to discourage me from this dream because of their own irrational fears. I grew to doubt myself because I was young, impressionable, depressed and unconfident, and as a result what I wanted to do with my life felt impossible because it wasn’t allowed by their closed-minded system. Because of that a section of my life has been spent in limbo, feeling powerless and without direction, just paying lip service to my goals.

My life is a piece of property, and it’s mine to do with as I choose. Even if it means being disowned by every person close to me, losing everything of value in my life, being subjected to hunger and pain, and dying sad and alone, I will travel the world! From this point forward, anyone who tries to stop me from living that life, who tries to murder my future because they feel like they have more of a right to decide it than I do, is making themselves my enemy.

This is my statement of intent: when I’m 22 and have a Bachelor’s degree to my name, I’ll be traveling.

Or kill me.

(Footnote of interest: yearly in the US roughly 16 people die of hitchhiking. To offer some context to that, 13 people die each year because vending machines fall on them. The world is often dangerous, but people who think it’s out to get them specifically are displaying the worst kind of arrogance. Most of your fears are irrational. Be pessimistic about pessimism.)


constructed identity as self-care. performance as self-care. aesthetic as self-care. these things are so valuable, constructing a self you like and cherish is so valuable, choosing to be a person you enjoy is so valuable

(via autisticpeterparker)


Didn’t Moffat write something for DWM once about how ‘Remembrance of the Daleks’ was the coolest and it proved that Doctor Who would always come back?  If so, he was dead right.

Mind you, he must’ve been watching it thinking ‘now, if only there were loads of quips in this like in Cheers, and the Ace/Mike thing was more like a will they/won’t they romantic comedy, and Mike and the Doctor made loads of blokey “tsh, women eh!” remarks to each other, and Rachel was fixated on the Doctor because he’d been in her bedroom when she was a little girl, and then Skaro could be blown up by the power of heterosexual love instead of by the Hand of Omega… then it’d be perfect’.

(via andrewhickeywriter)

Two Judoons hug


Susan gazed pityingly at her new boyfriend’s face, or what passed for a face among humans. His entire fourth spatial dimension missing. Humans were paper-thin creatures, barely there at all.

She stroked his cheek. David had the sense of enormous hollow regions, of the vast shadows between moments… it was too much, his mind couldn’t contain it. He screamed.

Stricken, Susan concentrated, and David felt those impressions flowing back out of his mind. Blessed forgetfulness replaced the cosmic vertigo, only the ghost of a memory of great distance in his mind.

"What are you?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Did you think I was a girl? A mammal? My people are the rulers of Time."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I have to be very careful when I touch you, or I’ll tear you apart."