Walkin' Under Ladders

I must not mock Gen Alpha. Mocking Gen Alpha is the mind killer. Mocking Gen Alpha is the little-death that brings total generational solidarity obliteration. I will engage with Gen Alpha lovingly. I will permit them to be cringe. And when they grow up I will turn my eye to their accomplishments. Where mocking has gone there will be nothing. Only generational solidarity remains

put those big brown eyes away dude now is NOT the time

Every version of Dearly Beloved continues to be a banger 💜

Honestly this version throws me off for some reason. It's very upbeat and just so different?? I'm not sure if I love it yet 😆 lol

(this one for Missing Link was arranged and orchestrated by Tomomichi Takeoka - it's the first DB in the series that Yoko had no hand in)

"the early 2010s were better" no they weren't. "hey soul sister" was on the radio.

stereo. The way you move ain’t fair you know.

maybe whistleblowers just happen to come forward around the time they're about to die. no one ever considers that

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everytime dungeon meshi focuses on characters outside of the touden party you can really feel the looming horror of the dungeon,, only the touden party is having a silly fun time by virtue of eating the horrors

Okay everyone I am going to lay things out to the best of my ability. Wally was stolen by some jerk who likes to drop alligators off into someone’s yard to terrorize them. Once discovered they called DNR, DNR then called a trapper. The trapper came and got Wally and dropped him off in a swamp with about 20 other alligators that same day. The swamp is very large and the trapper said the chances of them finding Wally is slim to none. But this is Wally…..Joie and friends are currently headed to the swamp to search and will continue daily. We just pray with other alligators present that Wally is ok🙏❤️. We are not releasing the location at this time, however if anyone wants to aide in the search please contact Joie directly for more details. Please continue to pray because we need a miracle. Thank you all for your love and support.

It's stupid that bread goes bad so fast. Bread should last ten million years on your countertop. You should be able to feed yourself off the same loaf of bread from the day you are born to the day you die. They should pass down bread between generations like a family heirloom. There should be remnants of still-good bread after the heat death of the universe.

Kind of hilarious to me how poorly the title "Mob Psycho 100" localized to English-speaking areas. To someone whose first language is English, it scans as:

But in Japanese it scans as:

"Psycho" to mean "someone with psychokinesis" has been an anime thing since the 70s so I knew that one but the meaning of "Mob" really never crossed my mind. I thought it was just his name for no reason at all.

Japanese read: ESP NPC

English read: MAXIMUM MURDER

You're just a mammal. Let yourself act like it. Your brain needs enrichment. Your body needs rest. You feel hunger and grow hair. You need to pack bond with other sentient things so you don't become unsocialized and neurotic. You are biologically inclined to seek dopamine and become sick when chronically stressed. "Hedonism" is made up to place moral value on taking pleasure in sensory experiences. I am telling you that if you don't let yourself be a fucking mammal, as you were made, you will suffer and go insane. No grindset no diets no trying to be above your drive for connection. Pursue what makes you feel good and practice radial rejection of the constructs meant to turn you into a machine. You're a mammal.

I am so serious about the way people are taught to view themselves as separate from and above any other animal being the root cause of a lot of problems. You're not better than a beast.

My boyfriend prefers his mattresses firm, and I need a soft mattress. He prefers his food temperate while I like my food hot and spicy. This is another good reason to not have a kid, because even if the kid averages out and prefers everything in the middle, there's the risk of some blonde bitch breaking into our house to rummage through our stuff.

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?