The Science Behind THC + Alcohol As A Combination Is Literally Soo Interesting Because It Basically Causes

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

I'm gonna try to compile a list of resources for the genocides and humanitarian crisis going on so people will at least have a place to start so they can stay informed

Each place will have a link and then just click on the link to go to the resources. If yall have any you wanna recommend say it under the post of that place

Pls reblog the original posts so more people can see what’s been added

Hope this helps someone

Syria

Lebanon

Palestine

Sudan

Congo

Yemen

Iran

Morocco

Western Sahara

Armenia

Afghanistan

West Papua

Haiti

Tigray

Ukraine

Yezidi People

"Elk Centaur" by Francois Lelong

Stevens Point Sculpture Park, Wisconsin, USA

sex is cool and all but can we please play games together? have similar interests? cuddle in the warm while it’s raining? adopt a bunch of little cats? go on dates to botanical gardens? draw together? make each other laugh? watch movies until we’re too tired to keep our eyes open? kiss at 1am in the dark of a kitchen? sleep wrapped up in each others arms? share clothes? put furniture together? hold hands on long walks even if it’s hot? remind each other that we’re loved and valued as individuals? make each other flourish? support our goals and aspirations? lift one another up? bake yummy treats and feed each other while giggling? kiss while smiling? laugh until our stomachs hurt? make cherished memories? meet each others loves ones?

For me, it's the ass of the bread (le cul)

I read this info about the eggs in a childrens book a long long time ago.

And then i forgot about it

And starting to read this post, the memory came back up, and i realised that it can not be a real thing, to paint your face on an egg to be approved as a clown: it must be a funny story to tell to children

But i just learned it is real

Hey Gaudy did you know that clowns can paint their likeness on an egg and have it sent to the Clown Gallery, therefore patenting their signature look to keep other clowns from copying them?

i HAVE actually heard of the Clown Egg Register. 

for those not in the know, there’s a museum of clowning that helps enforce the unofficial rule that no two clowns can have the same face markings. thus started the practice of painting the markings onto eggs, as a means of record keeping. 

anyway, yes, clowns use eggs to copyright their makeup

israel is bombing rafah. as you read this, israel is bombing the one place they told palestinians was safe. they kept pushing the palestinians south and now they are bombing the only "safe" place left. israel is bombing rafah.

There’ve been a few responses to/reblogs with tags on my post about DIY clothing embellishments that basically boil down to ‘I’d love to do this but I’m scared it’ll turn out bad/I’m not a good enough artist’. And I get it, I really do! I also want my art things to turn out nicely. But also…making it badly is sort of the point of punk DIY. 

Listen. We live in a world that would dearly love to charge you a subscription fee for breathing. The bastards are doing everything they possibly can to figure out how to turn art - stories, visual art, music, textile/fibre art, sculpture, crafts and creations of every kind - into a neat, discrete, packageable commodity, a product they can chop up into little pieces and stick behind a paywall so they can charge you for every drop of it you want to have in your life. 

The whole sneering idea that ‘everybody wants to be some kind of creator now’ and anything less than absolute mastery right out the gate is somehow shameful and embarrassing is a tool those bastards are using. It’s a way to reinforce the idea that only a set group of people can create and control art, and everybody else has to buy it. 

But art isn’t a product. Art is a fundamental human impulse. Nobody is entitled to a specific piece of art (which is where this message gets skewed into pitting people who love art against the artists who make it, while the bastards screw us all and run away with the money). But making art belongs to everybody. We make up songs and dances and stories, and paint things, and make clothes, and embellish them, and carve flowers into our furniture and our lintels and our doorframes, and make windows out of tiny pieces of coloured glass, and decorate our homes and our bodies and our lives with things we make and make up, simply for the love of beauty and of the act of creation. Grave goods from tens of thousands of years ago show that ancient hominids gave their dead wreaths of ceramic flowers, tattooed their bodies, beaded their shoes. Making things for the sake of beauty and enjoyment is one of the most ancient and human things we can do. 

The idea that we can’t, that we have to buy shit instead, because art is a product and you have to have the bestest prettiest most perfect product, is the enemy of joy. It’s the death of culture. And it means that, instead of whatever it is that you cherish and enjoy and value, you get whatever inoffensive (and to whom is it inoffensive?) bland meaningless samey-samey crap that the bastards want you to be allowed to have. What are you missing and what are you missing out on, if you don’t make or modify or decorate anything for yourself, if you don’t think you can because the product at the end won’t be polished or perfect or marketable enough? What do you lose? What do we lose? 

It is a desperately vital and necessary thing for you to make shit. For you to know that you can make shit, that you don’t have to just lie back and take whatever pablum the bastards want to force-feed you (and charge you through the nose for). That the bastards need you more than you need them. 

Become ungovernable. Be your own weirdly-endearing punk little freak. Paint on a t-shirt. Sing off-key in the shower or at karaoke night or at open mic night. Make up a story where you get to meet your favourite fictional character and you guys hug or fuck or punch each other in the face. Make art. Do it badly. Do it frequently. Do it enthusiastically. Do it for love and joy and creativity and fun and the spiteful joy of thumbing your nose at some smug motherfucker with a Swiss bank account who wants to track your heartbeat and location for the rest of your life in order to automatically pump AI-generated beats matched to your mood into your earbuds for a small monthly subscription fee of $24.99/month. It is literally the only way we are ever going to have even a chance to save art and our own lives from the bastards. 

So. Paint that t-shirt. 

(Also support artists where you can, and buy your music from Bandcamp.)