Joan Crawford in Possessed (1931)
82 years later and it’s still relevant
This will never not be relevant.
(via yencid)
this is kind of amazing. i wish there was more fashion stuff going on in Tacoma.
Thought regarding bird poop
Don’t understand why birds have to lift their wings when they poop. What if we had to poop with our arms in the air? That’d be weird.
The Wendigo is a spirit of famine from the folklore of the Algonquian peoples of the Great Lakes and much of Canada east of the Rockies. It is common in Midwestern horror stories and folktales. It is thought of as a malevolent cannibalistic spirit that could possess humans or a monster that humans could physically transform into. Those who indulged in cannibalism were at particular risk,and the legend appears to have reinforced this practice as a taboo.
It is said that in times of famine, any human that is driven to eat the flesh of another person in their hunger may become a Wendigo.
The Wendigo has an insatiable appetite. Whenever it eats a person it grows in proportion to the size of its meal, causing its hunger to grow more and more intense.Please note that Wendigo are among the unpleasant category of monsters that are summoned by the mention of their name. The middle of Summer is about the only safe time to talk about them out loud. They can also use your name against you- if it’s the middle of Winter, and you hear your name in the howling wind, DON’T GO OUTSIDE. Get a friend to tie you to a bed or lock you in a closet if need be.
HOLY SHIT HOW ABOUT NO
Apparently Canada doesn’t mess around with its folklore.
(via yencid)
Rob Delaney: 'Men in their 20s are the worst thing happening on our planet'
It’s funny to me that they used that quote as the header…
Rob…This is hilarious and the greatest!
having also once been in my 20’s, i can heartily agree with this. Men in their 20’s should be utterly disregarded. They are full of shit, half-cocked, too confident for their own good (even if they’re shy), misguidedly passionate, and completely unfamiliar with themselves.
Balding Vin Diesel Looks Wussier than Bald Vin Diesel [Click for more]
Vin Diesel sure looks like a badass, but did you know he’s like a reverse Samson? Most of his power comes from his lack of hair. Give him just a little bit, and he looks like a grumpy old man.
(via paulscheer)
everyone
“I remember discovering shitty amazing bands on college radio and listening on repeat for hours, buzzed on bad beer and lack of sleep. Now, I listen to bands that sound like them in sold out theaters. Am i losing my edge?”
You never had an edge. Shut up.
Bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon bacon isn’t really anything special, flavor-wise.
this is my impression of most tumblr posts.
faux profundity with cliched art.
delight in one’s own dysfunction with no question as to whether one’s life adds any value to humanity, as if wounds require obsession and justify any and all forms of uselessness.
