Tumblr Is Free Therapy

thiefking:

thiefking:

actually you know what that’s exactly it i would rather someone add 5 parantheticals after every sentence than use tone indicators it’s 1. accomplishing SO much more in terms of clarity 2. extremely funny to look at depending on how they’re used

observe:

“is this real? /gen” — i thought /gen meant “general” for ages. i would not be able to understand this on first sight a few years ago and is thus ineffective

“is this real? (genuine question)” — i fully understand this without issue

“is this real? (genuine question) (can’t tell) (very realistic) (looks real) (scary) (photoshop?)” — is not only incredibly clear it’s also very funny to read all of these thoughts stapled together while also in their own parentheses. it’s also the most useful because now i can actually address all parts of what they are asking me with as much specificity as BOTH of us need

(via lesbxdyke)

storm-of-feathers:

(via ayeforscotland)

derinthescarletpescatarian:

kn1ght-l1ght:

Posting this iconic piece of media that I just NEVER found online isolated except in an archived reddit thread

The anime is called Daily Lives of High School Boys, for anyone who wants more of this kind of thing. And yes the entire series is like this.

mrnargle:

whenever my program freezes

(via puzzledemigod)

sl-an:

This was my barbenheimer

(via puzzledemigod)

chaumas-deactivated20230115:

chaumas-deactivated20230115:

Last week I accidentally took an edible at 10x my usual dose. I say “accidentally” but it was really more of a “my friend held it out to my face and I impulsively swallowed it like a python”, which was technically on purpose but still an accident in that my squamate instincts acted faster than my ability to assess the situation and ask myself if I really wanted to get Atreides high or not.

Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.

Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.

You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.

As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.

Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.

This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.

A blender is roughly the size and shape of a human baby. Cradling one in your arms satisfies a primal need. A month ago I was permitted to hold an infant for the first time in my life, an experience which was physically and psychologically healing. I felt an echo of that satisfaction holding my friend the blender, and the thought of parting with it felt even more ridiculous than bringing it with me to hang out on my friend’s bed.

ALT

(via puzzledemigod)

mamoru:

using tumblr mobile and seeing people talk about a desktop layout change is like hearing a timer suddenly start ticking down. I am safe for now but I hear the danger

(via puzzledemigod)

spiritofthebackroads:

(via technofinch)

draconictui:

katy-l-wood:

netherworldpost:

alleecatblues:

doubleca5t:

killrockstar:

tiktok porn is so so funny.

why even try at this point

Imo the funniest part about tiktok is that despite how ridiculous and pervasive the censorship is, there’s no evidence that any of it actually works. People get videos with allegedly suppressed words to go viral all the time. The Washington Post’s social media team even did an experiment where they tried to get a video suppressed or banned by saying as many “bad” words in it as possible only for it to become their most popular video by a wide margin. Hell, the only tiktok to crack a million views on my account is also one of my most profane, and some of my other most popular vids are jokes about BDSM with no censorship.

The practice of self-censorship was developed because people saw that their videos were flopping and assumed it was because they were getting shadowbanned for mature content rather than accept the reality that The Algorithm is random and unpredictable.

That entire app has made it standard practice to use Orwellian newspeak euphemisms for everything for literally no material reason. It’s like the online equivalent of every desk fan in south korea coming with a timer because a huge swath of the population there believes with no evidence that you can asphyxiate if you sleep in a room with a fan running overnight.

A similar phenomenon happened on Twitter. People straight up believe they can’t say words like “commission” or “fundraiser” or “auction” or else the algorithm will hide their posts from people, but the fact is people just tend to interact less with posts asking for money or advertising a product. Despite several tweets debunking it, I still see people still to this day censoring the word commission because they think it will help more people see their posts.

Mythology is not an ancient rock but an ongoing, unceasing river in the bloodstream of all humanity. Ignore the presence and flow at your own destruction.

Also, a lot of the time, even the algorithm has nothing to do with it.

The content just isn’t good.

Maybe the video is poorly shot. Maybe it doesn’t have a good hook. Maybe it takes too long to get to the point. Maybe the audio is hard to understand. Maybe it uses an obnoxious visual and/or audio filter. Maybe the content just isn’t interesting.

It’s like when you occasionally see people complaining about running afoul of the algorithm on… Ao3. The site with no algorithm.

(via puzzledemigod)

wanderrghost:

I would like to share with you all some absolutely raw advice my mom gave me about my anxiety today

(via mugetsupipefox)