@addleton / addleton.tumblr.com
We stan!!!!
chaotic good
There’s a happy ending to, because the robbery was unsuccessful, the couple ended up getting the money Eden needed from a movie inspired by em! Also John only had to serve part of his sentence. Check out their wedding photos btw they’re beautiful.
reblogging because I’ve seen this post a thousand times and I’ve never seen the happy ending!!
Extremely wholesome content.
The film is Dog Day Afternoon for anyone wanting to watch it
Found a source for this one - it was originally posted privately by Emily Parker, software engineer, formerly of the US State Department, Wall Street Journal, and New York Times. She confirms she wrote it (and gives permission for people to keep sharing it) in the comments of another post on her Facebook page.
She also recommends checking out this Twitter thread and this blog post by Aakash Gupta for a more in-depth analysis, as her original comments were only meant to be some general thoughts she shared with her friends.
The comments on the Facebook post linked above also include one of the most hilariously obvious examples of sea-lioning I've ever seen, which Parker gives absolutely zero ground to, if anyone wants a good laugh at a troll utterly failing to get their way
[Transcript: "Who's a historical figure people never talk about?"
Oh, I have one for this. Now, a lot of people talk about Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, who are towering figures in the civil rights movement. But, the person people do not talk about– and he might just be the most important person in that movement– is Bayard Rustin. He is the person who taught Martin Luther King about civil disobedience, he debated Malcolm X about integration, and the March On Washington– which Martin Luther King was just a speaker– as you can see down there, Deputy Director, the person who organized that event was Bayard Rustin. There he goes with MLK, there he is with James Baldwin, there he goes with Malcolm.
Now for the sad part. A lot of reason people don't hear about Bayard Rustin: he was an openly gay Black man during that time. And, he was fully aware of the stigma that was associated with that at the time, and he did not want to jeopardize the movement. Listen to this story. When Bayard Rustin would go meet with Martin Luther King, he would hide in the trunk of the car, because he didn't want his presence to taint the movement.
There is a great PBS documentary about him, and if you are not familiar with Bayard Rustin you should be, because he is a towering figure in the history of America, and especially the civil rights movement.]
Earlier this evening, at around 7 PM CT U.S., Rebekah Jones (notably one of DeSantis’ biggest political enemies right now) underwent a raid on her home by state police.
Guns were pointed in the face of her 13-year old son, Jack. They arrested him under the charges of digital terrorism and “on state orders.”
They are refusing to let him go home and they are refusing to let Jones see him.
These are her screenshots recounting the incident from earlier tonight. They were taken at 10:23 PM CT U.S.
Reblog. I don’t care who you are, reblog this. We have to make sure that this doesn’t get buried – it’s already happening.
An update by her. She’s the COVID-19 whistleblower in FL. The scientist that pointed out that FL was covering the real number of cases
Link (x)
For alternatives.
Please do yourself a favor and stop using Chrome!
Ecosia isn’t Chrome based, right? that’s what ive been using, for the trees, and it says it doesn’t save your history but i wanted to check
I’m afraid so. And based on many other Chrome based browser scandals, I don’t trust it.
dammit. ill download firefox then :/ thanks for letting me know
edit: how do you actually download it
edit edit: wHY does it send me to GOOGLE, IMMEDIATELY upon downloading it????? like i have the app and it says “firefox browser” and it’s talking all about how secure it is etc but the little rainbow G icon is right next to the actual browser and theres a link right to Google on the firefox homepage how do i stop that
So from my understanding Firefox uses Google but it blocks all the trackers
that makes sense! ty!! i ended up changing the default browser to duckduckgo anyway (and deleted google and amazon off of the browser options anyway) but i appreciate it!!! (im afraid this all becomes null and void with me using only gmail as all of my email accs but there’s not much i can really do anything about that. hopefully firefox will block gmail from seeing my searches through the gmail account i used to sign in :///)
I’d recommend Protonmail, as a substitute for gmail. It’s a Swiss based end-to-end encrypted email service that is expanding to Proton-calander and Proton-drive with their paid version. Their ProtonVPN also has a free version with limited locations. They also have apps for both android and apple.
To boost Firefox, I’d add-on-
Several of these also have companion versions in Firefox mobile.
If you are interested in other trustworthy add-ons, this icon shows that the add-on is an editorially curated extension that meet the highest standards of security, functionality, and user experience. Firefox staff, along with community participation, selects each extension and manually reviews them for security and policy compliance before they receive Recommended status.
Good luck! @ or message me if you need anything else.
Edit: I’d make a firefox account so you can log in and sync tabs/bookmarks across devices.
holy shit this is insane thank you so much!!!
Long post but very useful addons. Press j to skip
Content Warnings: Religion, food, symbolic cannibalism, symbolic gore, penis mention, Blasphemy, SO MUCH BLASPHEMY, weapons, war mention. Mind the warnings and your health always comes first. Its a HILARIOUS story, I promise.
As always, all the names have been changed to protect people’s identities. This is a long one, so Press J now if you want to skip it.
When my dad was a young man and still a practicing catholic, he participated in a small church communion that nearly got him and six other people excommunicated.
Father Patrick ran a small church outside of California Polytechnical and tended to be… rather more liberal in his interpretations of scripture than most of the church was, which made him something of a hit with the local students and liberally-inclined populace. Pat went to all manner of civil demonstrations, condemned the shit out of the vietnam war and the politics that lead to it and so on. In January of 1969 a series of incidents lead him to start exploring “nontraditional” means of holding Mass as a means of reaching out to his community and exploring his own faith, which ultimately culminated in the 1969 Easter Mass Incident.
For those of you who weren’t raised catholic, Communion is this ritual where you become one with Jesus by eating a really horrible bland wafer cookie and taking a shot of wine (called hosts), which then *literally* become the flesh and blood of jesus in your mouth, allowing him to become one with you. It’s big McFucking deal, and you have the opportunity to take communion at every mass. All this had to be explained to me second-hand because after this and Dad’s 51 days in the army, Dad decided he wouldn’t inflict religion on any children he might have in the future.
*
“Hey dad,” Six-year old me asked the first time he told me this story after my practicing friends were talking about getting wine at church. “Isn’t that cannibalism?”
“We’re getting to that.” He waved.
*
The First Incident in January when, due to a serious cock-up by the church, all the hosts Father Pat received were moldering and spoiled and probably would have killed someone if he’d actually fed anyone them. But it was the first mass of the year, when a peak number of people came in after vowing to got to church more for new year’s. He couldn’t NOT have communion.
“I’ll bake.” offered Maria, the parish secretary and probably the best baker in the county. “So we have hosts. Jesus will understand.”
Father Patrick, not one to pass up the chance at Maria’s cooking, immediately agreed.
A Host is supposed to be composed solely of unleavened wheat flour and water, which is why they taste terrible. It’s a theological point of some importance relating to Exodus or something but Maria had an important theological counterpoint: Jesus both divine and loves all his children, ergo, Jesus would neither be a nasty bland cracker nor want his children to suffer as such and so instead, she made Mexican wedding cookies.
They were a SPECTACULAR hit. Many praises were heaped upon father patrick for the Much Better Wafers and that they’d be sure to show up next week as long as Maria kept making them. Father Patrick figuring that hey, anything that gets people in the doors is good and really, if it was turning into Jesus once inside the parishioner, did it really matter what the wafers were made of? So he continued to let Maria bake the Hosts, and encouraged her to try out new flavors, like nutmeg and cinnamon.
This went on swimmingly for a few weeks until The Bishop showed up for a surprise visit the same week Maria decided to experiment with rainbow sprinkles.
Dad remembers hearing the bishop through the windows roaring “THE HOLY BODY OF CHRIST DOES! NOT! CONTAIN! RAINBOW! SPRINKLES!”
The matter went clean up to The Archbishop, who decided that while Pat was probably right to not feed spoiled hosts to his parish, he should attend some remedial classes to remember what Communion was all about, so that if it happened again, he’s come up with a more suitable substitute.
Father Patrick returned in late March, full of spite and some fascinating new ideas.
*
“Is this where the Cannibalism happens?” Six-year-old me asked, eager to get to the good parts.
*
At his remedial classes, the teacher had stressed the importance of transubstantiation, aka “That bit where the wafer and wine, Actually, Literally, become the flesh of Jesus Christ and we expect you to swallow.” Also on the syllabus was understanding the importance of Christ’s suffering and sacrifice.
“So, I was thinking about Easter Service.” Said father Patrick one afternoon while dad was doing his computer science homework at the church because his dorm was a barely-standing fire hazard and the library was where you went to have sex.
“Well, we do re-enactments for christmas. Why not on easter? Why not re-enact the crucifixion of Christ right here? Make it real for everyone. Trauma’s great for bonding a community together.”
“Who’s playing Jesus?” asked Maria, always one for a good laugh.
“That’s the thing- A Host, it doesn’t look much like flesh, right? Doesn’t look like much of anything, really. Not great for reinforcing one’s belief.
What if, instead, we- and I mean you, Maria, I can’t cook to save my life- make a man-sized loaf of bread, maybe in the shape of a T, and we have some of the boys dress up as romans and whip the bread and we pour the wine on so it’s bleeding and them- then we make a big wooden cross and actually nail the bread to it with, I don’t know, railroad spikes, more wine all over. And we raise the cross, all while telling the story of the crucifixion.”
He paused to take a drink, Maria slowly crumpling onto the floor in horrified laughter and Dad now thoroughly distracted from his homework.
“Then we lower the cross, and invite everyone who wants to take communion up to tear a hunk of Jesus off. Just descend into his corpse like vultures. I think that’d really be a good bonding experience for the church.” he nodded thoughtfully. “The hard, part, I suppose, will be finding enough romans.”
“I WANNA BE LONGINUS.” bellowed my father, barreling into the room.
And so, the plan was hatched. Dad hit up every other guy in the Church and eventually rounded up four more romans, three of them from the Education Department of Cal Poly, and one guy from Chemistry, who just liked to watch things burn.
This, being a play, naturally meant that there was a rehearsal, and test Bread jesus. Maria had decided that if they were going to start being extra-literal, she needed to make the most lifelike Bread jesus possible, and made a distressingly buff and human-proportioned Jesus by Advanced bread-braiding, complete with plaited hair, quail’s-egg-and-raisin eyes, bready muscle groups, and an eight-pack because why not make the lord completely shredded?* She also made the important theological decision that since Jesus loves everyone and was happy to die in spite of all his suffering, he should be smiling, and had a toothy corn-kernel smile. He was Wonderful and Terrifying all at once.
“Maria,” asked Father Patrick after a few minutes of delighted and horrified cooing over Jesus’ toothy grin and abdominals. “Why is he wearing a tea-towel?
“Well, he’s the Son of God. A Man. With all that entails.” She said, pointedly staring at Father Patrick while everyone stared at the suspiciously lumpy tea-towel. “And he might have… burnt, slightly.”
Everyone nodded and agreed that the tea-towel was the best course of action. The rehearsal goes splendidly and everyone agrees that this is the most delicious Jesus they’ve ever had.
*
Easter Sunday arrives and the Church is PACKED, from the more lapsed Catholics showing up for a high holiday, parents visiting for spring break and a whole horde of newcomers who had gotten wind that something was up and they ought to come.
Dad is a lanky as hell 21-year old composed mostly of technical jargon and acne but he is STOKED to be playing Longinus, the roman that speared Jesus on the cross, because he gets to do the BEST technical effect in the whole parade. Since he came in at the end me missed a good portion of the sermon, but did hear the “oooh” from the crowd as the massive cross was dragged in by the other Romans, followed by horrified gasps and high screams and a discernible “What the FUCK” as they brought in Bread Jesus 2.0, whipping him enthusiastically, and hammering him into the cross, the sound of wine splashing onto the floor loud in the terrified silence of that Parishioners.
Finally Father Patrick gets to the part about Longinus, and Dad comes sprinting down the aisle as hard as he can, because in order for Bread Jesus to be seen by everyone, his middle had to be about 10 feet off the ground, so Dad had to run, shrieking latin curses, down the length of the church, with a big honking spear and take a flying leap at Jesus in order to spear him in the gut.
Please take moment to imagine you are some normal god-fearing catholic who has decided to visit little bobby or maybe patricia at college and you’re all going to church together like a nice family and this Fucking madman has decided to go all Silence of the Lambs on mass and now there’s some sort of underfed translucently pale man in ill-fitting Roman armor and cape flying at a horrifying glutinous effigy of your lord and savior, with an actual fucking spear, screaming like a madman. Don’t you feel yourself drawing closer to God already? Defensively, perhaps, like an octopus trying to ooze itself into a crevice against the horrors of the ocean.
However, two things happen that were not planned on
1. Dad misses. In his defense, Bread Jesus is close to but not quite the size of a man- more like the size of a doughy teenager, and his middle is a small target 10 feet up in the air and dad is has a computer science minor, not an athletics scholarship. He misses by about 8 inches and instead very solidly stabs Bread Jesus right through the groin, leaving a big hole in Maria’s tea-towel and the spear jutting out at a decidedly… attentive angle, as Bread Jesus’s Bread Dick drops to the floor with a splat. Nobody notices this, however because
2. In rehearsal, Dad had managed to get the spear right in jesus’s navel but neither Father Patrick nor the other romans could get the wine up there to make his middle appropriately bloodied.
Maria come up with the Genius solution that since wine is made of grapes and Jam is made of grapes, she could make a jelly-filled Jesus for Dad to stab. There was a normal-sized test loaf and when dad stabbed it on the table, it had a nicely gooey dribbling effect.
However, this time the loaf was torso-sized, still hot from the oven and upright, so when dad speared the very end of the loaf, all the steam-pressured jam had collected at the bottom and a spray of lukewarm smuckers exploded out from bread jesus, turning the first three pews into a splash zone of symbolic entrails.
There was a hot, sticky minute of complete silence in the church after that.
Then, Father Patrick indicated it was time for the cross to be lowered, and continued on with the normal preparations of the Host, he himself covered in hot smuckers, as though nothing particularly ordinary was occuring, quietly kicking the bread-dick under the altar. At the end of it all, Father Patrick and invited everyone up with the Last Oration:
“Thou, O God, has kindly allowed us to have a part in this Holy Sacrifice; for this we give Thee thanks. Accept it now to Thy glory and be ever mindful of our weakness. Amen.”
…And everybody came up, shuffling like terrified zombies, pinching off tiny bits at first but then the madness took them and they began tearing apart bread jesus by the handful, weeping as they partook, scattered prayers and begging for forgiveness. The whole congregation was kneeling about the altar, tearful and united in their guilt and their need for God.
*
“IS CHURCH ALWAYS LIKE THAT?” six-year-old me asked, absolutely stoked. I’d convert on the spot if I got a show like that.
“No, it’s normally bland wafers and lots of chanting in latin.”
“Well that’s boring as hell.” I remember muttering and Dad snorting the coffee he was drinking out of his nose.
*
As people filed silently out of the Church to a gloriously sunny California afternoon, faces wan and smeared with wine and jam, Father patrick turned to Maria and asked “You don’t think that was too much, do you?”
“No.” Said Maria with a sarcastic deadpan so intense it was hard to tell from sincerity.
It was the exact same tone she used when the Archbishop and Six other high clergy showed up, clutching a letter someone had written, Livid and almost foaming at the mouth, demanding to know if such blasphemy had transpired.
“No. That’s crazy.” She said, staring down the archbishop like he was an idiot.
“Such imaginations some people have!” Said Father Patrick, much less convincingly.
“And you- you didn’t… Spear an effigy of our lord and savior?” the archbishop demanded of my father.
“Do I look like I can jump that high?” Dad asked, having in the interim been drafted for 51 days then nearly died of pneumonia from it, and therefore no longer afraid of the Church, the Law or God.
Somewhat relieved that he’d only received the extremely detailed ramblings of a doddering parishioner, the Archbishop sat down and complemented Maria on her most excellent Mexican Wedding Cookies, may he please have another plate for his nerves? Perhaps the ones with sprinkles?
Dad went on to help build the internet, Father Patrick converted to Buddhism and Maria became a Nun.
*For those of you wondering, Jesus was made of Challah.
“This poem doesn’t rhyme.”
Dude about to make haikus:
“Oh you haven’t heard?”
fuck you
The first line is six syllables.
THIS
POEM
DOES-N’T
RHYME
That’s 5 syllables
Poem is two syllables. Po-em.
Poem is ONE syllable, who the fuck uses two syllables to say poem?
What the fuck are you on about? Literally just say it out loud. Po-em. One syllable would be like Pome.
“Pome” IS how you say it you neanderthal. Who the fuck says PO-EM?
So I went looking at Gordon Ramsay videos and found this and laughed for about 10 minutes.
Oh my god
Rip. You were good, some might even say the best.
But I'm not dead!
...I reply, late, an unknown amount of time later...
My FAVORITE THING is researchers who wholeheartedly embrace the Ms. Frizzle aesthetic and wear their field of study on their literal sleeve. Everyone in the invasive crayfish consortium has tiny lobster-print shorts or socks. All the middle-aged dad scientists here at the lab have shirts with fish and/or fishing tackle patterns on them. My moss specimen and ammonite earrings keep getting noticed by women who are wearing silver fishbone-shaped or native plant-themed earrings themselves. Every single person on the outreach team has at least one shirt with an anchor pattern on it from Old Navy, and almost all the younger researchers have tattoos featuring their research interests – one fisheries biologist has a half-sleeve of native species she literally uses as an outreach tool. We are self-aware and having a blast with it, honestly.
I adore the Ms. Frizzle aesthetic
You are lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender. That’s it. Aces aren’t LGBT.
I mean for one your forgetting a bit of that. Like the Q+.
Mod Bethany
The full acronym is LGBT.
I love me some ahistorical bullshit
The “full” acronym at one point was “GL”, after lesbians fought against male homosexuality being the “face” of the movement (i.e., the Alliance for Gay Artists (AGA), founded in 1982, was renamed the Alliance for Gay and Lesbian Artists shortly thereafter; and the Gay Activists Alliance never included “Lesbian” in their title).
The “full” acronym at another point was “LGB”, only after bisexual activists campaigned fiercely to be included, and is often still not even included in acronyms
The “full” acronym at yet another point was “LGBT”, only after trans activists campaigned fiercely to be included
Queer was added to the acronym after it was reclaimed and re-politicized by ACT UP off-shoot Queer Nation in the early 1990s. LGBTQ has been a thing since the 90s.
ONE Archives, which is the largest repository of LGBTQIA+ materials in the world and was founded by some of the principle members of the early (1950s-60s) homophile movement, which led to the gay rights movement post-Stonewall, uses the full acronym LGBTQ on their website and also freely uses the word “Queer” interchangeably.
As of 2014, NOW (National Organization for Women) agreed to switch to use of the full LGBTQIA acronym, and it likely isn’t the only large social rights organization to have done so
Many LGBTQ+ magazines use LGBTQ, including One (which has existed in some form since the 1950s) and The Advocate, use LGBTQ or LGBTQIA as the full acronym and regularly use “queer” as a phrase (and, in fact, some articles have welcomed asexual people and their narratives as part of the queer experience).
The acronym is constantly evolving. It’s not static. To claim otherwise is blatant ignorance. The modern-day LGBTQ+ community is a result of decades of political activism, social inclusion, and community outreach. It’s not a rigid structure that operates by a strict set of rules about who can and cannot join.
The full acronym is LGBT. Cishets don’t belong in the community. Aces aren’t inherently lgbt. We don’t want our oppressors in our community.
“we don’t want our oppressors in our community”
as if trans people don’t already have to deal with their oppressors (cis people) being in their community
as if LGBTQIA+ people of color don’t have to deal with LGBTQIA+ white people in the community
as if LBTQIA+ women don’t have to deal with GBTQIA+ men in the community
as if disabled LGBTQIA+ people don’t have to deal with able-bodied LGBTQIA+ people in the community
the LGBTQIA+ community is huge and consists of people with multiply-overlapping identities and privileges. we all (unless you’re a cis, able-bodied, wealthy, white gay man) have to deal with a member of our oppressing class in the LGBTQIA+ community
ETA: “Straightness” is a position of power. Ace people, even if they are in heterosexual relationships, do not necessarily perform “straightness” in ways that are acceptable to the Straight class.
Reblogging because osirisjones is completely hitting the nail on the head.
wait, what does the “i” stand for? i’ve never seen it in the acronym before?
Intersex.
Feed a person vampire blood, you get a ghoul. Feed an animal vampire blood, you get a hellhound. Water a plant in vampire blood, you get a mandrake. Fill up your car with vampire blood? Probably good things, let’s try it.
COMING THIS HALLOWEEN FROM SYFY
V A N P I R E
i hate when ur in public somewhere and something goes mildly wrong/something inconvenient happens and the nearest baby boomer tries to get you to complain with them
what does this even mean
EXAMPLE:
you are in line at mcdonalds. its really busy and the employees are overwhelmed. it’s taking a long time. you are minding your own business. the old man in line next to you says to you, “boy, this is absolutely ridiculous, isn’t it? these kids working just dont know what they’re doing. Or they just dont care…” you awkwardly nod and take a step to the side
This has probably been said a million times before but: Defend the employees.
Really, you’re never going to see Karen from Stubenville again in your life, so side-eye her real good and say:
“It’s not thier fault they’re understaffed. Having worked retail before, they’d love to have another three or five people back there helping out. But since the whole ‘downsizing’ craze of the ninties, companies try to get as much out of thier employees as possible without regard for thier welfare, or the effect on service. You should really get on McD’s website and complain about the chronic understaffing and tell them you’re willing to pay more elsewhere for better service. They LISTEN to people like you.”
People love to complain, especially entitled people. The good news is that they’re easily redirected with mild praise and a shiny new target. Butter the elders and aim them at the bourgoise.
Speaking of isopods: you probably all know about the giant isopod (Bathynomus giganteus). Yknow, the one that looks like this:
Well today I learned about another giant isopod species, the Antarctic giant isopod (Glyptonotus antarcticus). And it fucked me up.
LOOK AT THIS THING
What is up with those gigantic fucking legs?!
No way this is real. This is not real. This is a meme animal. Its legs are the size of its entire body this isn’t right
STEPPIN ON THE BEACH DO DO DO DOOOOO
On my way to steal your stuff, NYEH NYEH NYEH
Oh my fucking god this is wonderful
don’t they look like something that we SHOULD just eat with melted butter
“Lady who has a Bible Verse for every situation.”
IM DYIJG I LOST IT AT APPLE
Sing me the song of your people SOUP! meow! Sing me the song of your friends SOUP! meow! Sing me a song for the good times SOUP! meow! Sing me a song, a song. HEY SOUP! meeeeoooow!
Is…is this cat’s name soup?
His full name is “Soupy Bonjour”.
We call him “Soup” for short.
I haven’t yet seen anyone mention that the box says “free loader”
