Wait, it got better.
He does this a lot, to my deep surprise in undergrad:
For reference, the reason nobody likes this book and you can press tofu with it is that it’s about 1600 pages long.
It’s also, by all accounts, the origin of Cousin Throckmorton
“Tumblr doesn’t have an algorithm” actually it does. It just gives us the ability to use the website without it, and we’ve all decided to use it that way and only that way because engagement algorithms suck.
That’s fucking hilarious
Tumblr did not “Goncharov” Poob. Poob is Glupp Shittoing Tubi/Pluto/Roku Channel/Hulu/etc.
none of these words are in the bible. or the dictionary, for that matter.
#While this is a joke#For the etymologists out there#Tumblr did not “goncharov” poob#translation: Tumblr is not making a fictitious thing called poob that we insist is real#Poob is glup shittoing (streaming services)#Translation: Poob is now a generic name for whatever streaming platform is out there when you don't feel like naming something specifically
Etymologists are on Tumblr for the same reason Primatologists are out in the jungle: It's where the Monkeys are.
There are many benefits to being a tumblr etymologist
if you want butterflies, you need to live with caterpillars.
i am not being metaphorical, i work in a garden center, stop buying plants 'to bring in the bees and butterflies' and then immediately poisoning every caterpillar that dares to consume a single leaf
you will not get butterflies if you kill all the things that turn into butterflies! what are you doing!
getting a lot of responses to this going 'ok but it would be good as a metaphor though' so I will accept a metaphorical interpretation as long as you ALSO (!) promise to be considerate towards larval forms of insects specifically and biodiversity in general, deal?
>#I love how this gag would be funny at any point since the third century BCE
you hear about recovery not being linear (”there are ups and downs”), but actually it’s more like a game of wack-a-mole. this is not a bad thing
to extend the metaphor: when you’re at the beginning of your recover (less kindly known as rock bottom), you have a garden full of moles. you have a mole popping up every 5 seconds, and maybe it’s the same hyperactive mole, maybe it’s a bunch of moles taking turns, but whether they all look the same, you have a garden full of the fuzzy bastards.
so you pick up a mallet and start hitting. maybe you’re bad at using the mallet, maybe you get better over time, but after a while you get tired, bc you’ve been at it for ages and a mole is still popping up every 5, 10 seconds. what you don’t realize is, you’ve actually nerfed a lot of the moles. it’s just now there’s more space for the other ones to come to the surface and start making noise. but if you keep. swinging. the mallet. eventually they’re gonna slow down.
My recovery began when I started treating my depression & moved away from an abusive environment. It took a long time for me to realize I was recovering, bc as soon as one thing improved, another popped up. As my depression improved, I became more alert and active–and discovered that my brain fog & self-isolation had inadvertently been covering up my sensory issues. I had enough energy to start school again–and bc I wasn’t sleeping & lounging all day, I was suddenly aware of my concentration issues. One mole bites the dust, another pops up.
but the secret is: there are a finite number of moles in the universe.
4 years I’ve been wacking away at these fuckers with a mallet. I’ve taken turns wacking depression and its cronies suicidal ideation & self-harm, followed in succession by previous dormant crap related to anxiety, adhd, spd, c-ptsd, and other 👎 acronyms. And behold: progress. (Atm i’ve finally convinced the furry piece of shit called Executive Dysfunction to come out of the ground, which is exciting bc wrangling this bastard means finally getting to work on longterm personal projects again.) Moles still pop up from time to time, but my life has a lot more space for me in it
the moral of this story is: if u hit a mole over the head for long and hard enough eventually it learns to mind its own beeswax. KEEP WACKING
look what @the-toadish-one made!!!
*peers closely* they fucking untypoed my wack-a-mole post
since mrs, ms, and mr are all descended from the latin word magister, i propose the gender neutral version should be mg, short for "mage"
some people think this is a shitpost so i want to clarify that i am dead fucking serious. make mage the official gender neutral honorific NOW. i want it on my passport. i want it on my bank account. i want doctors and judges to use it for me. i don't care if it sounds a little silly. people thought "missus" sounded crass at first. call me mg.
benefits of mg:
drawbacks:
I asked one of my (male) friends to stop using the phrase “man up” and he has been using “fortify” for the past two weeks instead and it’s just a little thing but honestly it makes a difference
and tbh it’s also pretty funny when I start to deflate in the library and he leans over and goes “FORTIFY”
Dude, fortify is bangin’. That makes things like you’re some kind of RPG character. Fortify is way better than “man up.”
Happy 10th anniversary to Fortify
sorry i will never understand cis grief. your daughter is living her best life and going around with friends and feeling like a human being. your son doesn’t feel like he needs to crawl out of his skin anymore and can actually smile. your children are happy and no longer see their existence as the worst thing in the world. why are you grieving this lmao. grow up.
Do you think the devil grieves for angels
Over Thanksgiving, my wife's mom said to her that she grieved "the son she lost". It pained my beloved so much that she asked me if I ever mourned her like that (we had been dating for like 10+ years before she realized she was trans). I said no; and, when asked why, I thought about it for a second.
Being a very metaphorical thinker, the image of a butterfly came to mind. This beautiful thing that grew out of something else. No longer what it was before, but something new and wonderful. A continuation, a becoming, a realization of self.
I turned to my wife and said "you do not mourn the caterpillar".
She loved that so much that I got @vaspider of NerdyKeppie to put it on a pennant to hang in our home.
(I'm ordering stickers this week.)
columbo teaming up with any detective is fun but the issue is that the one constant of columbo is that he basically knows the killer before he even arrives, so the mystery is less whodunnit and more about how columbo is going to catch this dude in his lie. therefore I propose the best columbo x detective crossover is not in fact columbo and benoit blanc or sherlock but in fact Columbo and the Scooby Doo Gang. In this essay i w-
He’d LOVE THEM!!! They’ve no clue who did it, they’re off somewhere setting up a literal trap and eating chilli while he’s making sure the killer is always just close enough to get annoyed with them and him, and at this point he’s trying to see if he can make them just outright confess before one of Fred’s contraptions go off, or if he’ll need to arrange a setup where the confession is after the killer’s literally been trapped in a barrel of molasses up to his hips. Either way, he’s having a blast looking after his nephew or niece and their friends! No, he can’t remember which one he’s actually related to, wether it’s from his side or his wife’s side or if he’s even related to one of them or not, but they all call him Uncle Columbo either way, so who cares?
obviously he’s related to scooby, on his dog’s side
This would be delightful.
I don’t think healthy people every really get chronic illness.
I have a friend I know from when we were both 6. She is the only person living nearby and so she saw me go from walking through limping to wheelchair on a daily basis. I keep her updated on my health even tho we rarely hang out anymore. She was gonna come over yesterday and I had to cancel. She asked if I can’t hang out later that day. When I said i won’t feel better later, that if I feel that bad in the morning later will only get worse she got annoyed and “joked” that I’m just finding excuses. And I was surprised, she knows all about me being disabled after all? So, a bit taken aback, I told her it’s a normal thing for me.
“But you got the diagnosis now, aren’t you better?? I thought you’ll get better now”
She was honestly surprised and it made me realize a thing. They don’t get it. They don’t get that getting diagnosed only equals benefits like welfare or parking spot for us, and sometimes better pain meds but that is just like pushing luck. That it’s a forever thing. That that one day we felt good a week ago was just a bright spot and doesn’t mean we won’t need our aids anymore, cause chronic illness is not linear and will make a great comeback in next four hours, and the next good day is planned on when we’re 70. Cause when abled people are sick, they get better. And our illness is just an excuse for them. And when we say we will never get better they think we’re being dramatic and pessimistic. And I don’t think they’ll ever get it, cause to get it you need to live it. And I want my friends to stay healthy and not go through hell.
This is definitely okay to reblog and abled people are encouraged to reblog cause maybe it’ll help others understand
Hello it’s me Lexa and this post is relevant again as I just had the Legit Same Talk with someone and I exhausted my number of fucks to give
today I used the phrase "breasting boobily" in casual real life conversation and everyone was shocked asking how I came up with that and I had to explain it. ive been at the devil's sacrament so long that I forgot he wasn't god
“I’ve been at the devil’s sacrament so long I forgot he wasn’t god” is getting added to the tumblr line book
you love gay wolf girls. reblog
