Yes, poor little old you. There we were, discussing rape, violence against women, systemic oppression and other manifestations of sexism, and you had to jump in to remind us that “not all men” do these things. Why don’t you really say what you want to say? “I HAVE NEVER RAPED/HIT/ASSAULTED A WOMAN!” Right? Isn’t this what you really want to say? Yes, make a discussion that is about the plight of MILLIONS of women about poor little old you. I mean, millions of women are being assaulted and oppressed, but you’ve never done it, so why are we making you uncomfortable with these discussions?

Brenda Wambui breaking down the ridiculous “Not all men!” phrase over at Medium. Top-notch work. (via leontina)

(Source: itmac, via accio-tardis578)

Well, not all of us are in the same weight class so it is hard to say between Hemsworth and Evans. I think they’re pretty evenly matched. I think it would go to the ground. Then I think it’s me, Ruffalo, and Renner in a quote-unquote three-way in which I lay waste to them with sleeper holds but then we cuddle. And then it is Hiddleston versus Johansson if I am not mistaken. That probably just winds up in dinner at a five-star restaurant somewhere.

—Robert Downey Jr. on who would win a battle among the Avengers (via mrscatalano)

(via gwenofthesea)

recoveringhipster:

So stoked about the Hobby Lobby ruling today. Officially going to incorporate myself so I can get a religious exemption for my student loans debt they violate my deeply held religious conviction that all debts are supposed to be forgiven every seven years, as per the book of Deuteronomy.

(via xsej)

willow-wanderings:

thebicker:

^^^^^HOW PRIVILEGE WORKS.

YES THIS IS EXACTLY IT.

(Source: supermans, via accio-tardis578)

dean: i fought my way through purgatory for a year to find you when i could have gotten out any time
dean: but no homo dude
cas:
dean: oh and i kept your coat for you even when i thought you were dead
dean: it's not like losing you sent me on a downward spiral of grief and alcoholism or anything
cas:
dean: and i did break through naomi's mind control by telling you that i needed you
dean: but it's not like it's hard to overcome heaven's control right?
cas:
dean: and the way i pray to you at least once a day even though i never had faith before you
dean: and the way i need you not because of your powers or how you can help me or sam but because i need support and companionship and just your presence by my side
dean: completely platonic amiright?
cas:
dean:
cas:
dean:
dean: totally not in love with you or anything i swear
: : sequel: :
cas: i rebelled against heaven and my family and all i'd ever believed in in the millennia of my existence until i met you
cas: no homosexual
cas: was that correct, dean?
dean: it's "no homo"
cas: okay
cas: once i hid and watched you rake leaves while thinking about how you deserved a better life than i could give you no homos
dean:
cas: when naomi trained me to retrieve the angel tablet she made me practice by killing thousands of deans
cas: because my platonic feelings for you were the main obstacle to my mission
dean:
cas: and then when you were mad at me i went shopping for your favorite beer and porn and toilet paper and almost murdered a shop attendant because they were out of pie
cas: but i'm sure anyone would do the same
dean:
cas:
dean:
cas:
dean: right um yeah exactly what i've been saying

sagansense:

If you haven’t heard…a child cannot attend school unvaccinated, no matter what their parents’ religious affiliation happens to be. Remember when Neil deGrasse Tyson stated “Science is true, no matter what you believe”…? Yeah. Me too :)

sagansense:

If you haven’t heard…a child cannot attend school unvaccinated, no matter what their parents’ religious affiliation happens to be. Remember when Neil deGrasse Tyson stated Science is true, no matter what you believe…? Yeah. Me too :)

(Source: fullmetalsabater, via teachthemhowtothink)

Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?

We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.

They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle-Earth.

- George R.R. Martin  (via indisposablehero)

This is one of the most beautiful quotes I think I have ever read. I love it, and I will treasure it for my entire life.

(via draodoir-mna)

(Source: fourcolorfanboy, via accio-tardis578)

theplaceinsidetheblizzard:

socialnetworkhell:

"Consensual sex" is just sex. To say that implies that there is such a thing as "non consensual sex", which there isn’t. That’s rape. That is what it needs to be called. There is only sex or rape. Do not teach people that rape is just another type of sex. They are two very separate events. You wouldn’t say "breathing swimming" and "non breathing swimming", you say swimming and drowning.

reblogging for that metaphor I like that metaphor.

(via dontpanicitsorganic)

peardita:

omgthisusernameistaken:

avengingjedi:

flatbear:

COME GET IN OUR CAR OF ANCIENT WARTIME SEX KITTENS

#Natasha’s like#I’m gonna find out who you are#then I’m gonna find out where you live#so I can break in#and hide one of my flat irons#just in case#’cause Steve may have seen you first#but I didn’t hear him call dibs#soooooooo…

THOSE TAGS THOUGH

headcanon accepted

(Source: buckpls, via accio-tardis578)

thedragoninmygarage:

ON THE CREATION MUSEUM
By John Scalzi

Here’s how to understand the Creation Museum:

Imagine, if you will, a load of horseshit. And we’re not talking just your average load of horseshit; no, we’re talking colossal load of horsehit. An epic load of horseshit. The kind of load of horseshit that has accreted over decades and has developed its own sort of ecosystem, from the flyblown chunks at the perimeter, down into the heated and decomposing center, generating explosive levels of methane as bacteria feast merrily on vintage, liquified crap. This is a Herculean load of horseshit, friends, the likes of which has not been seen since the days of Augeas.

And you look at it and you say, “Wow, what a load of horseshit.”

But then there’s this guy. And this guy loves this load of horseshit. Why? Well, really, who knows? What possesses someone to love a load of horseshit? It’s beyond your understanding and possibly you don’t actually want to know, even if you could know; maybe it’s one of those “on that path lies madness” things. But love it he does, and he’s not the only one; the admiration for this particular load of horseshit exists, unaccountably, far and wide. There are advocates for this load of horseshit.

And so this guy who loves this load of horseshit decides that he’s going to do something; he’s going to give it a home. And not just any home, because as this is no ordinary load of horseshit, so must its home be no ordinary repository for horseshit. And so the fellow builds a temple for his load of horseshit. The finest architects scope this temple’s dimensions; the most excellent builders hoist columns around the load of horseshit and cap them with a cunning and elegant dome; and every surface of the temple is clad in fine-grained Italian marble by the most competent masons in a three-state radius. The load of horseshit is surrounded by comfortable seats, the better for people to gaze upon it; docents are hired to expertly describe its history and features; multimedia events are designed to explain its superior nature, relative not only to other loads of horseshit which may compete in loadosity or horseshittery, but to other, completely unrelated things which may or may not be loads of anything, much less loads of horseshit.

The guy who built the temple, satisfied that it truly represents his beloved load of horseshit in the best possible light, then opens the temple to the public, to attract not only the already-established horseshit enthusiasts, but possibly to entice new people to come and gaze on the horseshit, and to, well, who knows, admire its moundyness, or the way it piles just so, to nod in appreciation of the rationalizations for its excellence or to clap in delight and take pictures when an escaping swell of methane causes the load of horseshit to sigh a moist and pungent sigh.

When all of this is done, the fellow turns to you and asks you what you think of it all now, now that this gorgeous edifice has been raised in glory and the masses cluster in celebration.

And you say, “Well, that’s all very nice. But it’s still just an enormous load of horseshit.”

And this is, in sum, the Creation Museum. $27 million has purchased the very best monument to an enormous load of horseshit that you could possibly ever hope to see. I enjoyed my visit, admired the craft with which the whole thing was put together, and was never once convinced that what I was seeing celebrated was anything more or less than horseshit. Popular horseshit? Undoubtedly. Horseshit hallowed by tradition and consecrated by time? Just so. Horseshit of the finest possible quality? I would not argue the point. And yet, even so: Horseshit. Complete horseshit. Utter horseshit. Total horseshit. Horseshit, horseshit, horseshit, horseshit. I pity the people who swallow it whole.

thedragoninmygarage:

ON THE CREATION MUSEUM
By John Scalzi

Here’s how to understand the Creation Museum:

Imagine, if you will, a load of horseshit. And we’re not talking just your average load of horseshit; no, we’re talking colossal load of horsehit. An epic load of horseshit. The kind of load of horseshit that has accreted over decades and has developed its own sort of ecosystem, from the flyblown chunks at the perimeter, down into the heated and decomposing center, generating explosive levels of methane as bacteria feast merrily on vintage, liquified crap. This is a Herculean load of horseshit, friends, the likes of which has not been seen since the days of Augeas.

And you look at it and you say, “Wow, what a load of horseshit.”

But then there’s this guy. And this guy loves this load of horseshit. Why? Well, really, who knows? What possesses someone to love a load of horseshit? It’s beyond your understanding and possibly you don’t actually want to know, even if you could know; maybe it’s one of those “on that path lies madness” things. But love it he does, and he’s not the only one; the admiration for this particular load of horseshit exists, unaccountably, far and wide. There are advocates for this load of horseshit.

And so this guy who loves this load of horseshit decides that he’s going to do something; he’s going to give it a home. And not just any home, because as this is no ordinary load of horseshit, so must its home be no ordinary repository for horseshit. And so the fellow builds a temple for his load of horseshit. The finest architects scope this temple’s dimensions; the most excellent builders hoist columns around the load of horseshit and cap them with a cunning and elegant dome; and every surface of the temple is clad in fine-grained Italian marble by the most competent masons in a three-state radius. The load of horseshit is surrounded by comfortable seats, the better for people to gaze upon it; docents are hired to expertly describe its history and features; multimedia events are designed to explain its superior nature, relative not only to other loads of horseshit which may compete in loadosity or horseshittery, but to other, completely unrelated things which may or may not be loads of anything, much less loads of horseshit.

The guy who built the temple, satisfied that it truly represents his beloved load of horseshit in the best possible light, then opens the temple to the public, to attract not only the already-established horseshit enthusiasts, but possibly to entice new people to come and gaze on the horseshit, and to, well, who knows, admire its moundyness, or the way it piles just so, to nod in appreciation of the rationalizations for its excellence or to clap in delight and take pictures when an escaping swell of methane causes the load of horseshit to sigh a moist and pungent sigh.

When all of this is done, the fellow turns to you and asks you what you think of it all now, now that this gorgeous edifice has been raised in glory and the masses cluster in celebration.

And you say, “Well, that’s all very nice. But it’s still just an enormous load of horseshit.”

And this is, in sum, the Creation Museum. $27 million has purchased the very best monument to an enormous load of horseshit that you could possibly ever hope to see. I enjoyed my visit, admired the craft with which the whole thing was put together, and was never once convinced that what I was seeing celebrated was anything more or less than horseshit. Popular horseshit? Undoubtedly. Horseshit hallowed by tradition and consecrated by time? Just so. Horseshit of the finest possible quality? I would not argue the point. And yet, even so: Horseshit. Complete horseshit. Utter horseshit. Total horseshit. Horseshit, horseshit, horseshit, horseshit. I pity the people who swallow it whole.

archangel-bonding:

sopherusthespecialone:

staff:

superwholockianmetalhead:

barackobama:

where the fuck did all my shoelaces go

image

you’re all fucking idiots

tumblr: where we can have the president of the united states, a gif of supernatural, and the staff swearing and bitching at us all in the same post.

and it all makes perfect sense

(via trekchik)

toadelevatingmoment:

But Confucius has answered them with the final whistle, it’s all over. Germany, having trounced England’s famous midfield trio of Bentham, Locke and Hobbes in the semi-final, have been beaten by the odd goal.

(via wilwheaton)

team-free-spuffy:

paganmoma:

I think this is witchcraft in a nutshell.

The placebo effect at its finest

(via teachthemhowtothink)

emilianadarling:

HOLY SHIT I NEVER NOTICED THIS PARALLEL AHHHHHHHHHH.

(Source: robertdowneyjrsbitch, via mishasminions)

NIGHTNIGHT by DEDDY