Oh My Valar

© lacroix chessex - college rousseau extension - geneva, switzerland

8 Hands, 1 Piano! Watch more!

NO “TELEPHONES”. TALK TO EACH OTHER. FACE TO FACE ONLY. WRITE A LETTER. SEND A TELEGRAM TO YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 1860. LIVE.

NO ‘WRITING’… TALK TO EACH OTHER. THROW A ROCK AT YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 10,000 BCE.  LIVE.

URGGA. ROU GRAAURH. RUH.

<SMACKS HANDS ON WALL WITH PAINT.>

NO ‘HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS’ …USE YOUR REPTILIAN BRAIN

EAT YOUR MOM’S CORPSE SHE DIED TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SUSTENANCE

PRETEND YOU HAVE JUST AROSE FROM THE SEA

SURVIVE

NO “MULTICELLULAR TRAITS”….. USE YOUR SYMBIOTIC MITOCHONDRIA

REPRODUCE ASEXUALLY, YOU’RE YOUR OWN PARENT

PRETEND IT’S 2BYA

EVOLVE

NO “LIFE.” USE FUNDAMENTAL PHYSICAL FORCES TO FORM SPHERICAL OBJECTS REVOLVING AROUND ONE ANOTHER IN SPACE. 

FUSE HYDROGEN INTO HELIUM USING GRAVITATIONAL PRESSURE TO PRODUCE HEAT AND LIGHT. 

PRETEND IT’S 4.5BYA.

STABILIZE INTO EQUILIBRIA

NO “MATTER”.  EXIST IN THE VOID WITHOUT PURPOSE OR MEANING.

THERE IS NO “YOU”, ONLY THE VAST CONCEPT OF NOTHING.

TIME DOES NOT EXIST.

BE.

hey, whatcha doing? are these the internets? can I internet too?

THIS

GUY’S

FREAKING

DOG

IS

RUINING

MY

LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFFFFFFEEEEEEEEEE

But so is the dude, he’s pretty smokin

Yasmin Mogahed (via lovelustquotes)

Arise! Arise, Riders of Theoden! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered! A sword day… a red day… ere the sun rises! Ride now! Ride to ruin and the world’s ending! Death!

2am Suggestion (via mypenleaksiridescence)

By Karen Zack (@teenybiscuit)

Just the kind of content I was looking for ☺️

“You want to talk history, be prepared to be schooled.” (via)

follow @the-future-now

I wish more foods were named in the same vein as “I Can’t Believe Its Not Butter!”

You’ve Got To Be Pulling My Leg, THIS Is Ranch?!

Shut The Fuck Up, Are You Telling Me This Shit Is Ketchup??

I Firmly Believe This Is Not Mustard And I Am Horribly Wrong

I Refused To Believe That This Condiment Was Barbecue Sauce, And I Have Been Summarily Flayed For My Apostasy

I Assigned Negligible Probability To This Being Chili Sauce And Have Since Updated

In Which Your Humble Narrator Assumed That The Substance Within This Container Was Not Worchestershire Sauce Only To Be Rudely Awakened From This Delusion By Mysterious Circumstances

Fuck me, Linda, if this shit is mayonnaise I’m going to sell my first-born

San Clemente, California