Howdy my name is Angel.
It’s an instinct to keep the idea of mystery alive at a time when it seems to be in historically short supply.
There once was a young boy with a very bad temper. The boy’s father wanted to teach him a lesson, so he gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper he must hammer a nail into their wooden fence.
On the first day of this lesson, the little boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. He was really mad!
Over the course of the next few weeks, the little boy began to control his temper, so the number of nails that were hammered into the fence dramatically decreased.
It wasn’t long before the little boy discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.
Then, the day finally came when the little boy didn’t lose his temper even once, and he became so proud of himself, he couldn’t wait to tell his father.
Pleased, his father suggested that he now pull out one nail for each day that he could hold his temper.
Several weeks went by and the day finally came when the young boy was able to tell his father that all the nails were gone.
Very gently, the father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence.
“You have done very well, my son,” he smiled, “but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same.”
The little boy listened carefully as his father continued to speak.
“When you say things in anger, they leave permanent scars just like these. And no matter how many times you say you’re sorry, the wounds will still be there.”
“The Socratic pharmakon also acts like venom, like the bite of a poisonous snake (217-18). And Socrates’ bite is worse than a snake’s since its traces invade the soul. What Socrates’ words and the viper’s venom have in common, in any case, is their ability to penetrate and make off with the most concealed interiority of the body or soul. The demonic speech of this thaumaturge (en)trains the listener in dionysian frenzy and philosophic mania
Listening to a “groove” mix of crystal castles, everyone on the playlist is either indie, shoegaze, distorted, & I can’t think of a better way to describe crystal castles.
#skateboard stretching my legs after being in the car for an hour, crossing the border always sucks. But the tacos were so good. (at Oasis Ice Cream)
Evolution Simplified
This photoset should be required reading for every citizen.
FINALLY
I had to explain this in philosophy yesterday. to fellow adults.
It is so shocking when grown adults (from some super sheltered midwestern suburb usually) are like “uhmmm monkeys and humans barely even look alike, and like… evolution? i mean, we aren’t pokemon, duh!”
I just don’t even know how to respond to such fuckery.
This post is a good resource, but I honestly think people like that usually don’t WANT to learn. They turn away and go “NO CUZ THE EARTH IS ONLY 6000 YEARS OLD!!!”
Just preaching to the choir, but it’s a damn good message.
I’m convinced I’ll never say it again. But if & when I do, it will be with a passion so un-parallel to the times before. I will say it as if it were the last words I have ever spoken.
Friends, I need help. If you could reblog this, I’d greatly appreciate it.
This is Bubba. Bubba is a 21 month old pitbull, living with us in San Diego CA, who needs help.
When I first met him, last August, his name was Beast. We had just moved to California, and his owner brought him to the canyon in our new neighborhood to play with our pups. Beast/Bubba became a great playtime companion for Sneakers, our Pitbull/American Bulldog/Great Dane mix.
Back in December, his owner came to our house asking for food. He did not have a job, and could not afford to feed this handsome fella. Instead, he spent his money on alcohol and drugs. He also wanted to pass on some “pleasant” news, he has a baby on the way. Yikes!
Since that day, my boyfriend and I have sent his owner home more than a dozen times with food bags for Beast/Bubba. We’ve also sent toys, treats and even a collar (His owner had been using a heavy chain, the same kind I use to lock my motorcycle up).
About a month ago, His owner brought Beast/Bubba over again. He looked awful. His ribs were protruding and his face hollow, but his eyes were full of joy. He scarfed down three large bowls of food, plenty of water, and played with Sneakers until they both fell asleep in our living room. Then, his owner told us that Bubba hadn’t eaten in over a week. We sent him home with food, and a warning. We couldn’t let him continue to destroy such a beautiful, sweet, loving dog. His response- “I think I’m going to get rid of him and get a blue-nose puppy instead”.
I called animal control and reported him.
On Monday night, his owner came over again, this time alone. I was hopeful that the dog was taken from him, to be placed in a better home. We invited him to stay for dinner, so we could ask about Beast. During our conversation, his owner asked us if it was okay that Beast was only being fed bread. The look on his face during our conversation was perhaps what bothered me the most.. He didn’t care. He continued eating and laughing. Beast/Bubba was just an accessory to him. I wanted to snap. I wanted to hit him the way I’ve seen him hit his poor dog numerous times before. If I had, maybe it would’ve knocked some sense in to him. However, I knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
Instead, my boyfriend and I made a decision, and told his owner to bring Beast/Bubba to us. We had to get them separated. We couldn’t keep letting this happen, the dog deserves so much more.
The next step: We are trying to find him a new home. We aren’t capable of keeping him, due to lease restrictions and finances.
What I do know: His birthday is July 2nd.
He is not neutered, or up to date with shots/licensing (Big surprise).
He is not crate trained. We tried, and he was so nervous/anxious, he DESTROYED the crate beyond repair. All of his life has been spent in a concrete, fenced-in back yard.He is an incredibly sweet dog. He’s affectionate, great with children and other animals (even cats!). He is a phenomenal listener, and knows basic commands. Understandably, he is a little timid when you pat him on the head. Instead, he prefers having his paws rubbed, and having the spot between his eyes stroked (it’ll put him right to sleep!)
He’s a warm, cuddly couch companion. He snores like a chainsaw, and gets scared/curious when he farts.
I’m not sure what to expect from this, but I appreciate any help. All of the rescues I can find in our area don’t accept surrenders, they handle shelter dogs exclusively. I’m looking for suggestions on who I can contact, or even anyone interested in taking the handsome fella.
My email: its.arson@live.com
Help a baby out! If you can’t give him a forever home then please reblog and maybe your post will reach someone who can. It just takes a second and it could help this fuzzy out! <3
YO SOCAL! HELP A DOG OUT!
Damn
“They say I have a sweet ass, nice tits, a real pretty dress. They say I’m their future wife, or I’d look good with their dick in my mouth. They try (and probably succeed at times) to take pictures down my shirt. They ask if they can get my number, they ask where I live, why I’m not smiling, why my boyfriend lets me walk around by myself. Then they ask why I’m such a bitch, if my pussy is made of ice. They say that they never do this, as though I’ve somehow driven them to inappropriate behavior and deserve it. They say they’re just having fun, trying to pay me a compliment. Pretty frequently they get mean, slipping into a loud tourettes-like chant of bitch-whore-cunt-slut.
Before you try to tell me that it’s because I take my clothes off for a living, let me tell you that this started way before I was 18. Let me tell you that every single woman I know has at least one truly terrifying story of street harassment and a whole bunch of other stories that are merely insulting or annoying. Let me remind you that in a room of pornography fans, who have actually seen me with a dick in my mouth and who can buy a replica of my vagina in a can or box, I am treated with far more respect than I am walking down the street.”
— Stoya
The next generation of intelligent women using the porn industry to secure their financial future. Although she is physically appealing, if you read about her you find how insanely attractive her mind is.
My absolute favorite pornstar. Her smile is breathtaking.
Respect.
When Aisha Tyler was selected to be the presenter for the 2012 Ubisoft E3 press conference, she received an unprecedented flood of hate from trolls who complained about the fact that she knew nothing about gaming. Too bad haters didn’t do their homework first, because as it turns out Aisha Tyler knows more about gaming that all of us put together. Her Facebook response was awesome and predictably went viral. In case you missed it, here’s her masterpiece. Haters, take note.
Dear Gamers
I play.
I’ve played since I was a little kid.
Since I begged my dad to buy me a Nintendo LCD Donkey Kong, Jr.
Since I blew through three weeks’ allowance playing Defender at the laundromat.
Since you were a twinge in the left side of your daddy’s underoos.
I’ve been a gamer since I made friends with a girl in the 5th grade just to get at her Atari.
Since I missed the bus playing Galaga after school.
Since I missed the start of Return of the Jedi playing Tempest in the theater lobby.
You think you know. You don’t know.
I’ve been a gamer since before you could read.
Since I aced midterms after staying up all night playing Evil Tetris.
Since I became dorm champ at Leisure Suit Larry.
Since I double-wielded on Time Crisis 3 at Fuddrucker’s.
I was a voice in not one, but two major video game titles.
I hosted the Reach Beta tutorial.
I was a Gears of War superfan panelist at ComicCon.
I hosted the Ubisoft presser at E3 2012.
I didn’t do any of it for the money.
For most I got paid next to nothing, and for some, less than that.
I did it because I love video games.
Because I’ve dreamt since I was a kid of being in one of the games I love.
How many games have you done voices for?
How many cons have you repped at?
Your buddy’s Unreal Tournament garage deathmatch doesn’t count.
I go to E3 each year because I love video games.
Because new titles still get me high.
Because I still love getting swag.
Love wearing my gamer pride on my sleeve.
People ask me what console I play.
Motherfucker, ALL of them.
I get invited to E3 because real gamers know I’m a gamer.
I don’t do it for the money.
I have plenty of money.
I don’t do it for the fame.
Fuck fame.
I do it because I love video games.
I don’t give out my gamertag because I don’t want a mess of noob jackholes lining up
to assassinate me on XBL.
I don’t give a shit what you think about my gamerscore.
I don’t play to prove a point.
I don’t play to be the best.
I play because I love it.
I play.
I’ve been playing my whole life.
I’m not ashamed of it.
I don’t apologize for it.
It’s who I am.
To the core.
I’m a gamer.
So to all the haters out there who claim I don’t play;
To the GAF dicks,
Gamespot trolls,
To every illiterate racist douchebag on Youtube:
Flame away. Go nuts.
Post every jackass comment your heart desires.
I’ll still be playing when your mom’s kicked you out of her basement
and you have to sell your old-ass console
and get a real job.
For now, I say to you respectfully,
and I mean this from the bottom of my heart,
GFYS.
And not a single fucking game dev came to her aid when this happened
NOT A SINGLE FUCKING ONE
But when Felicia Day’s lily white ass got insulted, PEOPLE GOT FIRED. People lost their minds and bent over backwards to kiss her ass.
Aisha only had Black women to back her up.
Yup and Wil “White Knight” Wheaton was nowhere in sight.
Damn.