There once was a girl named Lenore And a bird and a bust and a door And a guy with depression And a whole lot of questions And the bird always says “Nevermore.”
Footprints in the Sand
There was a man who, at low tide Would walk with the Lord by his side Jesus said “Now look back; You’ll see one set of tracks. That’s when you got a piggy-back ride.”
Response to ‘This Is Just To Say’
This note on the fridge is to say That those ripe plums that you put away Well, I ate them last night They tasted all right Plus I slept with your sister. M’kay?
Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening
There once was a horse-riding chap Who took a trip in a cold snap He stopped in the snow But he soon had to go: He was miles away from a nap.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
There was an old father of Dylan Who was seriously, mortally illin’ “I want,” Dylan said “You to bitch till you’re dead. “I’ll be pissed if you kick it while chillin’.”
I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud
There once was a poet named Will Who tramped his way over a hill And was speechless for hours Over some stupid flowers This was years before TV, but still.
THE ONE FOR DO NOT GO GENTLE
IM CRYING
A chap from a faraway land Said two big stone legs (topless) stand An inscription fine Reads “this shit’s all mine” But all there’s to see is the sand.
OMFG,
The Second Coming
The falcon flies wider in scorn All things fall apart, or are torn And now, what rough beast Will arise in the East And slouch Bethlehemward to be born?
Edgar Allen Poe, “The Raven”:
Enthroned on the bust by the door, The raven exclaims “Nevermore!” It’s rather annoying, For I was enjoying My mourning for dear lost Lenore.
Edgar Allen Poe, “The Bells”:
Bells are quite noisy, it’s true, And each has a quite distinct hue, From silver and gold Different stories are told, Foretelling both glory and rue.
W. H. Auden, “Funeral Blues”:
Shut off the clocks and the phone, And let no dog bark with his bone: Let the planes overhead Only say “he is dead”… Now I’m sorry, there’s nobody home.
T. S. Eliot, “The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock”:
A man can walk down on the beach Roll his pants up and munch on a peach; He isn’t deluded And won’t be included By mermaids that sing each to each.
T.S. Eliot, “The Wasteland”:
You called me the hyacinth girl When you gave sweet Shakespeare a whirl; The city’s unreal, And the dead men don’t feel, So let’s let the storm warnings twirl.
Lewis Carroll, “The Jabberwock”:
‘Twas mimsy out there by the wabe And all of the momewraths out grabe. The Jabberwock’s dead (Some kid took off its head, And his father said “You’re my best babe!”).
Beowulf:
Terribly troubled, the Thane Demanded defense from a Dane For fierce in the fen Mighty monsters maimed men Great Grendal gave plenty of pain.
William Butler Yeats, “Stolen Child”:
Come on, human kid, and let’s go, There’s so much to see and to show. Run off with the fae, Hurry fast, skip away, And you’ll never a mortal life know!
John Keats, ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci":
The sedge is all dry; spring has sped, And the birds that once sang have all fled. The merciless dame Goes on making her claim To young hunks who keep winding up dead.
Lord Tennyson, “The Princess”:
The echoes keep fading away With the splendor that ebbs with the day, But the castle is grand In this bright fairyland, And there’s not that much else I can say.
Christina Rossetti, “Goblin Market”:
At goblin men we mustn’t stare, And we shouldn’t go to their Fair. Their fruit may seem tasty, But we can’t be hasty, And don’t let them play with your hair!
Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years.
I’m honestly surprised I haven’t seen this done before.
I went to sleep with rhymes in my mouth and now there’s rhymes in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning, I tripped on the battle of Mount Monmouth and by mistake I dropped the Constitution in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
At breakfast John Laurens found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Hercules Mulligan found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box, but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal.
You have three islands. Divide them into groups of one. The straight island, the gay island, and the lesbian island. The straight island is going to reproduce and keep going strong for millions of generations to come. The gay and lesbian islands will both wipe out in not even one century. This isn’t just about religion or morals, it’s just simple common sense. Being gay is unnatural, and not just because God said so, but because you yourself wouldn’t even be born without a REAL natural man and woman. And no, there is no such thing as a lesbian bone marrow “thing” to have children. That’s a biased fact that came from a lesbian scientist who has false opinions. If it’s not a real penis or vagina, then it’s fucking false and you’re just opinionated by dumb facts. I’m done here. Read over what I said and if you still think that being gay is normal and natural, then I hope you achieve some common sense one day. Bye
Where is this gay island located.. asking for a friend
I just have SO MANY questions. Why were we all separated onto different islands? Did the government sanction this? If so, why? Why didn’t we revolt against this tyrannical government? Where are these islands? How were they chosen? Are the continents of the world abandoned? What kind of resources are on each island? Are they the same or different? Does each island have a right to form its own government or does the government that segregated us still rule? If so, what island do they rule from and how do they communicate with the other two islands? If they can communicate with the other two islands, can all three islands communicate with each other? If the straight people keep reproducing, won’t their island become overpopulated and their resources depleted? Islands only have so much space right? Do straight people stop having gay kids? Isn’t it a fact that, to date, straight people are the largest manufacturers of gay kids? If a gay kid is born on straight island, do they get sent to their appropriate island? Wouldn’t that aid in the re-population of gay and lesbian island? What about people who are attracted to more than one gender? Are they just lost at sea, floating aimlessly? Is the ocean full of listless pansexuals, floating nowhere? Or are they trapped in some sort of purgatory because they don’t fit on any one island? Are there trees on lesbian island? Is it conceivable that if there were, a large group of lesbians could build a boat? Have you ever seen lesbians around timber? If they built a boat, could they travel to gay island? How far apart are the islands? If they could travel to gay island, would they be able to collect semen, return to lesbian island, and repopulate the island? Would they be able to send some of those children to gay island? Do trans people exist in this world? If so, wouldn’t they be able to aid in repopulation? If the lesbians decided to declare war on the heterosexuals, would they be able to reach their island? On the way to heterosexual island, could the lesbians pick up the gays and scoop the floating bisexuals from the sea? If so, would they all be able to go and attack heterosexual island together, wiping out its people’s, stealing its children and taking all its resources? Does this fantasy world get you off at night? Please write back soon!
Speaking up from the pansexual archipelago: I too have these questions
Checking in from bisexual bay: The boats are nearly complete and are equipped with a special invisibility function. We attack at dawn
Fuck the questions, lemme on that boat, I’m coming with you
*random ace just floating away into the sky like a balloon*
I am so here for an asexual sky nation. We live in floating cities and master the wind currents. Newly minted ace youths are sent up to us in baskets suspended under hot air balloons. We breed giant birds to bear us through the skies, or else build ourselves wings and gliders to fly in their midst. The only land we know are the tallest mountain peaks and the world is a bright blue gem spreading out beneath us.
(And we will of course be providing air support for the impending attack on Straight Island)
OP’s nasty-ass post got turned into a goddamn sci-fi dystopian adventure and I’m so here for it.
oh my god Bisexual Buccaneers from Both-Ways Bay is both a porn tile and my new life goals
i’m an asexual homoromantic does this make me our young heroine torn between worlds
You spend part of your time on lesbian island, learning the stories, and traditions, and part of your time in the vast floating asexual cities, training with your eagle so that you can one day become one of the chosen few: the messengers, who carry letters and passengers between islands, jumping the heterosexual blockades. When you enter this select group, you’re assigned the job of collecting reports from spies pretending to heterosexual on straight island, flying in at the dead of night, risking discovery to collect vital intelligence. You fall in love with a pansexual girl who’s chosen to hide her orientation so she can aid the Resistance. At the climax of the novel, you swoop down from above on your giant eagle to rescue your lady love from a frenzied mob. As straight island burns in the background, you share a chaste kiss and cuddle while discussing the possibility of a mountain-top pansexual outpost.
Once upon a time I was in the world’s worst production of Hamlet. I’m not exaggerating–our Hamlet was a ginger who didn’t know his lines, our Gertrude had food poisoning, our Ophelia had never been in a play before, our ghost missed his entrance more than once and I had to ad-lib blank verse until he came back on, and in the midst of all this clowning around, I was the world’s most exasperated Horatio.
Now, for those of you who aren’t familiar with the play, there’s a scene where Hamlet and Horatio talk to a friendly gravedigger, who makes a lot of jokes and just generally alleviates the uninterrupted sense of suffocating tragedy–and in our case, suffocating fucking boredom–that is Hamlet. And for some reason we’d blocked out this like slapstick Three Stooges bit where the gravedigger tosses the Yorick skull to Hamlet, who talks to it for a bit like an absolute fucking loon, and then tosses it to me to catch and hold until the end of the scene because, in case you haven’t noticed, HORATIO IS HAMLET’S BITCH, EVEN WHEN HAMLET DOESN’T KNOW HIS FUCKING LINES AND HORATIO HAS TO BE ONSTAGE FOR AN EXTRA FIVE SCENES TO MOUTH THEM TO HIM WHEN HE FUCKING FORGETS. WHY FOR THE LOVE OF RICHARD BURBAGE DIDN’T THEY JUST MAKE ME HAMLET???
But, uh, that’s beside the point.
Anywhoo, I’m standing around like a piece of fucking furniture like Horatio usually does while Hamlet is chatting up the gravedigger, and because this dude is a comedian at heart (BAD CASTING CAN YOU SAY BAD CASTING) he decides to change the blocking. He catches the skull, kisses it smack on the teeth, says, “Alas, poor Yorick, I knew thee well!” and just fucking flings that motherfucker over his head. Now, what you have to know for the rest of this to make sense is that we borrowed this skull from the fucking anatomy school at a local university and if we broke it we owed them like $500, and let me tell you, this whole damn company wasn’t WORTH $500. So, in retrospect, giving Hamlet free reign to toss the skull all over the fucking stage just maybe wasn’t the most genius plan, o Herr Directrix. But nobody ever listens to Horatio.
So Hamlet just fucking chucks this very valuable skull over his head and I’m completely unprepared for it because this is not where he usually throws it (probably because he forgot the rest of his goddamn lines) so I hurl myself across the stage and fall and slide six feet on my knees like I’m Zac fucking Efron in High School Musical 5: Disney Destroys Shakespeare, BUT YOU HAD BETTER BELIEVE I CAUGHT THAT GODDAMN SKULL BEFORE IT HIT THE FLOOR. WHAM Yorick lands smack in my outstretched hands and I’m relieved for all of two seconds before I realize oh right, human skulls have fucking TEETH, which sank straight into my palm when this thing fell from the sky like a ballistic missile, and I am now bleeding everywhere. (There’s a hand-injury theme happening this week apparently.) And it all happened so fast that Hamlet hasn’t even fucking noticed, because Hamlet is a self-centered twat, so he’s still talking with the gravedigger and I’m just staring at the friggin’ skull in my hands like Wtf Yorick you fucking BIT me–and the audience is beside itself because this is a travesty tragedy and they don’t even know what to laugh at.
But I still have lines, I can’t leave the stage, so for the rest of the scene I’m just kind of sitting on the floor, holding a skull, casually bleeding all over it, waiting for Hamlet for finish his fucking tea party so I can wash my hands and soak poor Yorick in bleach so the anatomy school doesn’t have to deal with any actual human anatomy (i.e., my blood). But this is a long-ass scene, so I had to get up and stand in the back for the whole fucking funeral while Hamlet and Laertes are fighting over who loves Ophelia more (like it matters now, you morons, bitch be DEAD). Eventually Hamlet has his tantrum and storms out and everyone turns around and looks at me like they’ve forgotten I’m there, because everyone always forgets Horatio is there until Hamlet has a tantrum, and I’m standing there, looking sketchy as hell, still clutching a fucking skill with blood all over my hands. And Claudio gets this really confused look on his face and just goes, “Horatio…?”
And I swear, it took every ounce of my self control not to just yell, “That’s right, ‘twas I that killed Ophelia! Plot twist, motherfuckers!” and spike Yorick on the floor and swan the fuck offstage.
And that is the story of the time Hamlet sucked and Yorick almost bit my fingers off.
So largely thanks to Hamilton, queenitsy and I spent most of brunch giggling over a Founding Fathers boy band AU, because we are Very Cool. And now I really want this to be A Thing without having to write it:
(This is MY MASTERPIECE. Also Madison’s head fit onto Howie’s eerily well.)
They are called Revolution, of course.
George Washington is the original heartthrob of the band and the responsible one who breaks up fights and gets them places on time and stuff. He’s the only one who they all always get along with. He’s the oldest and he’s been in the business for a million years – he got his start on some weird MMC-esque sketch comedy/musical show on Disney or Nick when he was like nine, playing a character just called “the General.” People still call him that sometimes and bring it up in interviews and he’s very polite and gracious about it but privately he finds it very embarrassing. He has a steady girlfriend named Martha back home but is very private about it. The guys call him G-Dubs (“…and sometimes just Dubs. Wait, why did I just get choked up over that?” #WASHINGTONFEELZ)
Alexander Hamilton is the baby of the group at first, and very much George’s little brother – and then suddenly he hits puberty and everyone’s like “…whoa” and suddenly, surprise! The band has a new heartthrob! He’s a total prodigy and super charming but also constantly in the news for various scandals, flings, and unwise public statements. He loves G-Dubs SO MUCH YOU GUYS.
Thomas “TJ” Jefferson is kind of the laid-back dreamer of the group. He keeps a dream journal and frequently tries to turn its contents into songs, which are sometimes brilliant (“Declaration” was #1 on the charts for seventy-six weeks) and sometimes bananas (no one liked “Virginia” except Madison, TJ, and did you forget you’re not in a country band?). Smokes a lot of pot.
John Adams is no one’s favorite member of the band but probably the hardest-working of all of them and actually has the most solos. He has a steady girlfriend back home too, Abby, and is actually pretty public about it, but because he’s not that popular she doesn’t really deal with any shit from the fandom. (Mostly she’s written as the wise best friend/matchmaker in fic, either getting the Mary Sue protagonist together with her guy of choice, or aggressively shipping the fic’s main slash pairing, which is usually the extremely random and based-entirely-on-hotness pairing of Alex/TJ. There is a small but fierce contingent of John/TJ shippers and Abby finds it actively hilarious and will read choice bits aloud to John just to watch him turn red and start spluttering.) He and Alex get into a lot of screaming matches, even when they agree, and George is like “Just let them work it out, let’s go hang out on the other tour bus and talk about Virginia” to the other two. Also, he and TJ are best friends even though they disagree about absolutely everything.
James “Jimmy” Madison is the one everyone forgets about. He’s surprisingly indispensable – he misses a concert once because he has laryngitis and it’s their worst performance ever – but still no one really cares. He loves TJ the most and is very hurt that TJ actually considers John his best friend.
Also:
Benjamin Franklin is their manager. He knows everyone in the industry but otherwise he’s mostly useless as anything except a source of incoherent folksy witticisms. George does all the actual planning.
Lafayette is their weird French pop star opening act. Alex and TJ fight over who he likes better.
Laurens is Alex’s paid best friend who he might be sleeping with, no one’s really sure.
The Schuyler Sisters are a very successful girl group and Alex has a high-profile relationship with Eliza and eventually marries her. That does not put a stop to the scandals, including the rumor that he’s sleeping with Angelica (he’s not, but only because she wouldn’t do that to Eliza).
Aaron Burr was a member of the band but quit early on when he decided they were going nowhere fast. They basically became massive successes the next day and he’s never quite gotten over it (and his solo career is nowhere near their level of fame). He and Alex are constantly publicly sniping at each other.
The band eventually breaks up when George decides he is 32 and tired of being in a boy band/performing in general. (Alex sobs when George refuses to be convinced otherwise.) They think for like 30 seconds that they might be able to keep going but then John and TJ have an enormous knock-down, drag-out fight and literally don’t speak to each other for twelve years (historical fact!). Alex proceeds to alienate literally everyone (well, he patches things up with G-Dubs pretty quickly, and Ben is inalienable (HA!) because he literally doesn’t care what these children do), then engages in several very public flame-outs before pulling together a respectable solo career. TJ focuses on songwriting and Jimmy becomes a very successful producer; they work together a lot. George and John both retire from performing completely and are happily domestic.
Years later, TJ and Aaron are both up for some award and Alex is very public in his support for TJ, which surprises everyone because the bad blood between him and TJ is still going strong. TJ wins, Aaron blames Alex, and that year Alex says something sassy to Aaron on his way to present an award at the Grammys…and Aaron STRAIGHT UP TACKLES HIM ONSTAGE and they get into a SUPER VIOLENT FIST FIGHT and it takes security a good 15 minutes to pull them apart. BEST GRAMMYS EVER.
Years after that, TJ and John are photographed having dinner together and everyone LOSES THEIR SHIT because OMG IS REVOLUTION GETTING BACK TOGETHER??? And they’re like “What? This is not a big deal.” BUT IT IS A VERY BIG DEAL.
(and then, idk, they found a record label called United Songs of America or something, who cares, LET’S TALK MORE ABOUT THE SILLY PANTS THEY WEAR DURING THEIR FIRST TOUR)
Please go pitch this to everyone in LA. I would watch the absolute fuck out of this car crash.
One thing I love about Judaism is that long involved conversations about things like “can a zombie attend shul?” or “can i use my pet dragon to light candles on shabbat?” or “is meat from a replicator kosher?” are seen as completely normal.
Yes, but it should avoid contact with a Cohen if it can, and if the dragon is a Gentile sure, why not, a pet dragon is an ideal Shabbos goy, since it probably lives with you, and will get a kick out of helping. If it’s a Jewish dragon, though, no, it’s better for you to do it yourself rather than cause another Jew to violate Shabbat.
Wait wait… if a jew owned the dragon as a pet wouldn’t using the beast’s labor to light candles be pretty explicitly prohibited?
Good point. Is the dragon property, or is it a roommate?
I think it was ruled that one may allow a dragon to ignite a fire if (a) the dragon is non-sapient, and preventing them from lighting the fire would be animal cruelty, or (b) the dragon is sapient, non-Jewish and not in indentured service.
I love that a discussion that started with “I love Jews because they’ll have arguments about theoretical Shabbat dragons” ignited an argument about a theoretical Shabbat dragon
But is replicator meat kosher?
Depends. There’s a nice big passage about what you are and aren’t allowed to eat (Leviticus 11), but it only addresses “living things”, and on top of that, it’s pretty clear that it means “animate things” specifically–plants are all parve. So the real question becomes: do you consider replicator meat to be alive?
Well, if it’s made via cell divisions, tissue cloning, &cetera, one could argue that yes, it is alive, in which case either a) none of it is kosher, because it is a living thing of the land that doesn’t chew its cud or have cloven hooves (being, you know, sludge in a vat) OR b) it is kosher only if the original DNA belongs to a kosher animal. I’d justify the latter by arguing that the cloned tissue is ~part~ of the animal or that it’s an animal by-product of a sort, which means if you can eat the animal you can eat the replicator meat. (And, bonus, don’t have to worry about kosher butchering and draining all the blood.)
That said, you could also argue that vat meat is /obviously/ not a “beast that is on the earth”, much less a sea creature, bird, or “swarming thing that swarmeth upon the earth.” This is a particularly compelling argument if your replicator meat is just a bunch of synthesized proteins, closer to a dietary supplement than a partially cloned organism. If it was never a living (animate) thing at all, it’s all kosher, and maybe even parve to boot.
WATCH THIS: MAN SHUTS DOWN ANTISEMITIC WHITE POWER PREACHER
One of my friends in the Boston area took this video and gave me permission to post it. She writes: “ I stood there for twenty minutes, easily. Hitler Youth kept trying to preach about “the evils of the Jews” and the big guy barely let him get a word in edgewise. At one point, the big guy yelled, “I will be here ALL DAY” and the crowd cheered.”
I promise this will be the best thing you see today.
Where’s a goddamn bullhorn when you need it?
wow that preacher is probably shitting his pants low key with some big ass biker that close to his face
Caption for those who need it– the guy in the suit is saying shit like “all races must serve us as put here by God” and a lot of racist/anti Semitic drivel.
Every time he opens his mouth to speak though, the biker yells “AHHHHHHH!!!” Until the man in the suit shuts up again. When the man in the suit takes a breath and opens his mouth, the biker doesn’t even let him get started and just screams “AHHHHH”…. This happens a few times.
The guy in the suit plows ahead but the biker screams and says “No no no no!!!”
Kimchi and Justice 