My local bookstore is so fed up and tbh I love that for them they should choose violence more

@spokir I’m just going to tag you in every library thing from now on since I can’t send them to you.

// Stift Admont Library, Austria //

YOU SHAVED THEM?!?

who else remembers the entire Doctor Who crew dancing to 500 miles with David Tennant because it’s the purest thing you’ll see today

Man, remember when people in TV had fun

ordered pizza from a small local place and they didnt actually cut it so i've chosen to revert to a wild animal and begin ripping it apart instead of just using a knife to portion slices

absolutely visceral experience. food is so much more satisfying when you have to fight it. i may be feral

i am not proud to say this but that pizza lasted fifteen minutes. i normally am not that gluttonous, but this goes beyond glutton. there was gluttony and wrath. a whirlwind of sauce, cheese, and pepperoni, all atop a flatbread that was shred apart by my own hands due to the neglect of another

in that moment i was wild. i was free. i understood the simplest joys in life. the joy of eating and manifesting my own destiny

been reflecting on this all day and the unsliced pizza experience honestly ruled. i think everyone should try it sometime or another. you have not truly lived until you just absolutely obliterated a pizza in such a feral manner

is this you

yes

run

My best friend and I have this tradition we call “chicken dinner” where we get a rotisserie chicken, lay it on a tarp, start on opposite ends of the tarp, and on the count of three we both run at the chicken and start ripping into it with our bear hands. We will be on our knees fighting for the best pieces of meat, ripping into the chicken with our faces, and it is the most viscerally delicious chicken I have ever had in my life. Grease gets everywhere. We have to do this outside. We have to tie our hair in buns beforehand.

You have never known the joy of food until you are lunging at your friend to rip the best part of the chicken out of their hand, rolling around on the tarp, stuffing it in your face before they can retaliate, and you realize “holy shit did I just growl?” And then you realize they are doing it too.

The chicken gets decimated. It’s absolutely destroyed. We aren’t allowed back inside until we have been hosed down. It’s the best.

Oh ye of little faith.

People across the street looking through the blinds, "Harold! Harold come quick, they're doing the chicken thing again!"

Girl Dinner done right.

Did you know that the Museum is home to largest collection of dinosaur fossils in the world?

with that the Wolf tore off the clothes and with one bound was upon her!

“oh no!” screamed Little Red Riding Hood, “a thinly veiled metaphor for unrestrained sexuality! please don’t fuck me– I mean, please don’t eat me!”

the Wolf paused, “is that all I am to you? a cheap psychosexual pastiche?”

“well,”

disgusted: “I’m recontextualised multiple times in this story alone! sure, I’m sex, but I’m also death, I’m maturity, I’m the fear that lurks within, I’m inexorable time, I’m– I’m wearing your grandmother’s clothes for god’s sake! and it’s not just a kink thing!”

A lucky capybara has given you a blessing! ✨ May it last the whole year and more!

Chibird store | Positive pin club | Instagram

All the flowers mentioned in The Amazing Devil lyrics 🌱

They really awake his bloodlust, uh

The virgin pit bull vs the chad Great Pyrenees

Listen. I grew up with these dogs. Im a cat person, no shame, but Great Pyrenees are hands down my most trusted domestic animal and are hardcore as fuck.

When I was a kid, between six and fifteen, one of our Pyrenees would escort me, off-leash, between my grandmother's house and mine. I'd just have to call him, and he'd show up and walk me there, placing himself between me and anything he considered threatening- Cranky farm animals, holes in the ground, bodies of water, etc.

That same dog found a (unfortunately deceased) lamb my grandfather had buried a few hours earlier, dug it up, realized it was cold and not breathing, and carefully carried it to our barn, where he covered it neck-deep in straw and tried to cuddle it warm again to bring it back to life.

One of our older dogs, at about sixteen years old (keep in mind, this breed tends to average out at about 12 years max) had arthritis in his hips, a bad back, and a respiratory issue, was fucking ancient and essentially palliative, but would still go stock-still out of nowhere, let out one subtle "boof", and then set out at an awkward-yet-speedy bunny-hop sprint at the slightest whiff of a cougar, bear, or wolf. Like, grampa would jump fences. Gentle geriatric giant would kick up to 7k to protect the family, never mind the three other, much younger dogs already on the case.

When I was a baby, like a literal in-diapers infant, he would lay on the ground and let me dress him up as a wizard and crawl all over him with zero complaint.

His nephew was 100lbs and often alarmed visitors who mistook him for a bear, yet never so much as bumped into a person in his life and feared only string and kittens.

a Great Pyrenees is not Balto. A Great Pyrenees is Robert McCall, John Wick, and John McClain wrapped in Marry Poppins and a snuggly Mr. Rogers wool sweater.

They are not only the best dog, but I would argue that they are also the MOST dog.

I will die by this

I have a female 2 ish year old Great Pyr we rescued and the ONLY reason she has not fought the coyotes in the woods to the fucking death is because I don't let her.

With me she will lay on her back on the couch and plop her giant goofy fluff head in my lap and paw at me with her giant crime paws until I pet her gently, and then she will snuffle happily as I do so. She is very careful with the cats. She likes to nap sprawled on the floor like an inconvenient white shag carpet, preferably right over the air conditioning vent. She won't bite into an egg I give her unless I break the shell for her first. When I walk her past the neighbor's cows she has to sit and stare at them and the calves for a bit. When she was a stray she was chased out of several cattle barns because she kept trying to get in to sleep with the cattle and calves. Never tried to hurt one. She will also sit and stare at chickens for hours very happily. Won't hurt them, will just, you know. Keep an eye on things.

But holy fucking shit if she hears a coyote nearby she is a snarling ball of canine rage in about a tenth of a second and nearly snapped a heavy duty leather leash she was on trying to charge off and commit coyote murder. If someone broke into our house without me telling her it was okay that dog would kill or die no questions asked.

Flock guardians are the BEST. Their prey drive is almost absent, but their desire to Protect is in every hair they shed (all over everything). Herding dogs have to have a job to do, to be kept busy. Guardians, though, are doing their job while they're draped all over your lap: they're watching and listening, and storing up love for their charges so they have the courage they need when it's time to rain Hell on something dangerous.

One advantage of not really having a strong sense of gender identity is that you’re very [shrug emoji] about how people gender you. Sometimes people call me by she/her pronouns and sometimes they go with he/him pronouns and on the internet people often default to they/them, and neither option is entirely right but also, fuck if I know what would be right, and I don’t particularly care. Therefore I’m perfectly happy to outsource my gender identity to the people around me who actually need to figure out which box to put me in. I don’t need to talk about myself in third person, so really my pronouns sound like a you problem.

My pronouns are I/me and the rest is for someone else to deal with because I have better things to do.

Very fond of macrolabels, like “queer”, that provide zero extra information. Is it genderqueer? Is it romantic/sexual orientation queer? Is it queer as in “none of your fucking business what’s in my pants and what I do with it and with whom”?

This is actually probably the first time I’ve ever read something that accurately describes my relationship with gender--ie, ‘my gender is me and my pronouns are a you problem’--so thank you for that!

#you cannot gender me in a way that matters

this is KILLING MEEEEE

"do you have anything else that might be yummy?"

Obviously I want you to take care of your pets and make sure they get food and fresh water on a regular basis, but cats being huge drama queens and screaming hysterically at you and acting like they’re tragic famine victims who haven’t eaten in weeks and are about to drop dead from starvation right mcfuckin now, because you’re 10 minutes late feeding them is always going to be one of the funniest things to me

the cat who lives at the vet clinic i volunteer at was mad yesterday because his dinner was half an hour late due to a busy day. he proceeded to go to all the (empty dw) garbage cans and tried to knock them over and started desperately scavenging for scraps of food because obviously no one loves him or cares about him and if he must eat garbage to survive then so be it

not food related, but one time my cat cried at me for 20 minutes before i worked out that the reason why she was upset was because there was a coat hanger on her favourite cushion

This is absolutely beautiful and changed my life, thank you so much. Please protect her from hangers at all costs

wow. am STORVING and humaines here making joke laugh at cate honger ?!

My cat is a social eater who is not food motivated at all, so I was baffled when I first got him because he didn’t seem to care about food but he would SCREAM at me for hours when I knew his bowl was full. Any time I went to double check that he did indeed have food, he’d book it to the bowl and snarf like his life depended on it, but as soon as I walked away he’d follow me screaming again.

Eventually I figured out that he just wanted a dining companion and was screaming about how we’re a family and families eat together, god damnit! I moved his food bowl under my computer desk and it fixed the problem. But if I’m ever out for more than 12 hours I’ll come home to find him in a passive-aggressive kitty huff because dinner has been ready for hours but he’s been trying to be considerate (unlike some humans) and waiting for me to eat it. 

My cats are indoor cats. Being indoor cats, they can’t go outside to hunt for food (mice, rats, birds, etc) to gift to my sister and I.

But they know that the kitchen has food. They know where the easily accessible cat food is. And obviously my sister and I are just Really Big Stupid Hairless cats.

So if my sister and I go without leaving our rooms for too long? My cats will sit outside our doors and scream for our attention, lead us to their food bowls, and then only stop the screaming and leading once they see us sit down at the table and eat something. Because they think we’re hungry.

Your cats are the sweetest beings on the Earth, it makes my heart warm knowing that they exist. They love you very much and they care so much, they want you healthy and happy and will make sure you don’t neglect yourself and oh god they are so perfect. Real pure love exists, I am happy to be alive today.

My neighbor is a hardcore drunk. Like, 9am and dude is drinking vodka, but he had a cat that’s pretty much his honest to god caregiver because I have seen this cat visibly screaming at this man to keep him from hurting himself and sometimes when he hasn’t been outside for a while, the cat will scream at my door until I go outside to knock on the door to check on him. Cats are literal angels.

I have a cat named a Kitty Pryde who has an extra thumb and these giant paws and while she’s not super bright she did learn that she likes being pet. So I must like being petted right? So if I’m watching TV alone she’ll come up and just with her giant paw gently stroke my arm or hand until I pet her back and she waits and pets me again and it goes on a while. Cats are angels.

My cat once stuffed my bath mat into the litter box

Mine wakes me up if I sleep in too long cuz she wants me to take my pills. Fiance said she was yelling at him all day yesterday. She stopped whwn I got home…and asked him if he tooks his meds. He hadn’t.

My girlie screams at me if she thinks I’m up past bedtime. Apparently this transfers to my new roommates too: Maeve led @katculator to her room, yelled until she was under the covers, then came back to the kitchen to do the same to me.

BABIES

there’s something endlessly hilarious to me about the phrase “hotly debated” in an academic context. like i just picture a bunch of nerds at podiums & one’s like “of course there was a paleolithic bear cult in Northern Eurasia” and another one just looks him in the eye and says “i’l kill you in real life, kevin”

I heard a story once about two microbiologists at a conference who took it out into the parking lot to have a literal fistfight over taxonomy. 

have i told this story yet? idk but it’s good. The Orangutan Story:

my american lit professor went to this poe conference. like to be clear this is a man who has a doctorate in being a book nerd. he reads moby dick to his four-year-old son. and poe is one of the cornerstones of american literature, right, so this should be right up his alley?

wrong. apparently poe scholars are like, advanced. there is a branch of edgar allen poe scholarship that specifically looks for coded messages based on the number of words per line and letters per word poe uses. my professor, who has a phd in american literature, realizes he is totally out of his depth. but he already committed his day to this so he thinks fuck it! and goes to a panel on racism in poe’s works, because that’s relevant to his interests.

background info: edgar allen poe was a broke white alcoholic from virginia who wrote horror in the first half of the 19th century. rule 1 of Horror Academia is that horror reflects the cultural anxieties of its time (see: my other professor’s sermon abt how zombie stories are popular when people are scared of immigrants, or that purge movie that was literally abt the election). since poe’s shit is a product of 1800s white southern culture, you can safely assume it’s at least a little about race. but the racial subtext is very open to interpretation, and scholars believe all kinds of different things about what poe says about race (if he says anything), and the poe stans get extremely tense about it.

so my professor sits down to watch this panel and within like five minutes a bunch of crusty academics get super heated about poe’s theoretical racism. because it’s academia, though, this is limited to poorly concealed passive aggression and forceful tones of inside voice. one professor is like “this isn’t even about race!” and another professor is like “this proves he’s a racist!” people are interrupting each other. tensions are rising. a panelist starts saying that poe is like writing a critique of how racist society was, and the racist stuff is there to prove that racism is stupid, and that on a metaphorical level the racist philosophy always loses—

then my professor, perhaps in a bid to prove that he too is a smart literature person, loudly calls: “BUT WHAT ABOUT THE ORANGUTAN?”

some more background: in poe’s well-known short story “the murder in the rue morgue,” two single ladies—a lovely old woman and her lovely daughter who takes care of her, aka super vulnerable and respectable people—are violently killed. the murderer turns out to be not a person, but an orangutan brought back by a sailor who went to like burma or something. and it’s pretty goddamn racially coded, like they reeeeally focus on all this stuff about coarse hairs and big hands and superhuman strength and chattering that sounds like people talking but isn’t actually. if that’s intentional, then he’s literally written an analogy about how black people are a threat to vulnerable white women, which is classic white supremacist shit. BUT if he really only meant for it to be an orangutan, then it’s a whole other metaphor about how colonialism pillages other countries and brings their wealth back to europe and that’s REALLY gonna bite them in the ass one day. klansman or komrade? it all hangs on this.

so the place goes dead fucking silent as every giant ass poe stan in the room is immediately thrust into a series of war flashbacks: the orangutan argument, violently carried out over seminar tables, in literary journals, at graduate student house parties, the spittle flying, the wine and coffee spilled, the friendships torn—the red faces and bulging veins—curses thrown and teaching posts abandoned—panels just like this one fallen into chaos—distant sirens, skies falling, the dog-eared norton critical editions slicing through the air like sabres—the textual support! o, the quotes! they gaze at this madman in numb disbelief, but he could not have known. nay, he was a literary theorist, a 17th-century man, only a visitor to their haunted land. he had never heard the whistle of the mortars overhead. he had never felt the cold earth under his cheek as he prayed for god’s deliverance. and yet he would have broken their fragile peace and brought them all back into the trenches.

much later, when my professor told this story to a poe nerd friend, the guy said the orangutan thing was a one of the biggest landmines in their field. he said it was a reliable discussion ruiner that had started so many shouting matches that some conferences had an actual ban on bringing it up.

so my professor sits there for a second, still totally clueless. then out of the dead silence, the panel moderator stands up in his tweed jacket and yells, with the raw panic of a once-broken man:

WE! DO NOT! TALK ABOUT! THE ORANGUTAN!

@posturingsimpleton

OMG

Ok that one wins

[ID: text reading: ‘The Milton scholars screamed and argued about how the serpent was supposed to move before it crawled on its belly. Dr. Matthews, enraged that Dr. Goldstein could believe the serpent bounced around on the coiled end of its tail, flipped over the conference table. “Satan is not a fucking pogo stick!” he howled.’]

We’re Fat (2) by Nikki Garza