I got the abattoir blues - right down to my shoes.
criminalwisdom:

“…important literature in my lab today.” ~ psydoctor8

criminalwisdom:

“…important literature in my lab today.” ~ psydoctor8

anothercleverjedimindtrick:

anomaly1:

dkthedrugking:

you speak wachutu?

Can we bring back “equinsu ocha”?

Still use this 

I often wonder

if people from Canada look at American related news and are like ‘god I’m glad I don’t live there’ or ‘gosh that place seems so exciting!’ or both.

nowyoukno:

socialjusticekoolaid:

(9.23.14) — Another morning in Amerikkka. Somebody thought it would be fun to desecrate the Mike Brown Memorial early this morning. I… I really can’t even. #staywoke #farfromover

image

Here’s a picture of some cops watching the memorial burn although there seemed to be no police at the scene when the fire department arrived.

nowinexile:

The last words said by Black youth murdered by policemen. 

Diana Ross has told me that people in show business can get hurt. I don’t see how, to tell the truth. Maybe one day I will, but I kinda doubt it.
Michael Jackson - at age 12 (via thrillersnight)

biomedicalephemera:

Amputations in the United States Civil War

While the US Civil War was the first time that the survival rate of people who needed amputation was over 50% (in large part due to the contributions of Joseph Lister and chloroform), artificial limbs have been known to have been around since at least the Late Egyptian Dynasties.

While current prostheses include both a “leg” and a “foot”, as well as all other joints, limbs, and extremities, early "peg-leg"-type prostheses fall into the same category.

oddjordann:

secretly not wanting a band to get popular so their concert tickets stay cheap

I made rape funny last night. Obvious trigger warning is obvious.

Or at least I tried, to relieve my girlfriend from falling too deep into a misery she’s been living in for far too long.

As of now, my girlfriend, assigned male from birth, and for now until we can work ourselves into a better city/living situation, have to hide the make up and blouses and dress catalogues from my aggravated father’s gaze. I’m surprised he hasn’t thrown a fit about the nail polish yet. He’s probably too scared to piss me off again. Dad’s still settling on the idea of me being a serious relationship with a ‘sissy white boy who cries too much’. When the breast implants come one day, we’ll just tell him, “It just happened *feigning mystery*”

I made a careless slip of the tongue while my niece was writing me and my girlfriend’s male name on an empty beer bottle. Kaitlyn jumped out of the bed and hid in the corner. I had forgotten momentarily in my after work tiredness one of the more gruesome flashbacks she had recalled to me a few nights ago.

When my niece left the room, I told Kaitlyn to slap me, hard. She said, “Never.”

"I deserve it. Do it. Now. Stop curling into a ball. Give me your worst."

She basically went into a stubborn explanation on how she could never lay her hands on me.

After a few uncomfortable moments of silence, I told her this.

"I don’t know if it’s possible for you physically, maybe if I can help work your asshole up to this level of strength and dexterity, but it would be a sight for me to see you walk up to your ex boyfriend, when he asks for a beer, drop your skirt and power blast his head and body with forty beer bottles. Until he’s broken tooth’d and mauled."

She laughed all the way into her sleep. Laughed like she hadn’t laughed in years. She added:

"I’d like one of the bottles to aim into his eye and gouge it from it’s socket and get stuck in the bottle, bouncing around. I want to be the Butt Beer Bottle Ass Canon of Death upon all rapist scum that walk the earth."

I told her it was written in Revelations. Thou shall release pain whilst reversing torture that has been bestowed upon thee by oppressers.

When something, anything is sucking you in a dark vortex of pain, find the power to laugh at your own personal dementors. Laugh at them. No one trying to control and hurt you can handle the crippling power of your laugh. Nothing terrifies them more than their victims not succumbing to their torture.

Nothing is more dangerous than a damaged person laughing and smiling and living life, shoving all the beer bottles and ball bearings and bloody daipers and tampon right in the fucking mouths of their pathetic lowlife predators. Cower away, motherfuckers. You can’t crush us.

Listening to Velvet Rope

Under appreciated album from the 90s.

Even though Janet doesn’t have the kind of bold, deep, strong vocals I generally prefer from female artists, there was always something about her demeanor and her voice that inexplicably made blood rush inside me and pulled at my heart. Plus her creativity always made her stick out. We have Ciara these days, who’s prob the only woman in recent memory to almost touch the same parts that Janet does for me, but Janet will always be irreplaceable. 

True story: I realized I liked girls when I was 11 because I started having wetdreams of her after watching Different Strokes and Poetic Justice reruns on tv.

Things My Mom Texted Me About While I Was At Work Today

brianbonsall:

  1. How much the Royal Baby weighed
  2. The Bachelorette
  3. How lovely the dreary weather was
  4. How a woman at Six Flags in Texas fell out of the roller coaster she was on and died and consequently, neither of us should ever go on rides again

When I used to frequent Six Flags in San Antonio (the one you’re talking about is the one in Arlington I think) with my sis and her kids in 09 or 08, I can’t remember the year, there was actually a corpse of a woman who jumped off the cliff near the quarry that had been laying there for a year unnoticed. I’ve never felt unsafe there, but the park always felt haunted in some spots.

weresterlies:

trvsh:

 choked out by your thighs would be a heavenly way to die  

goddamn it i knew i couldn’t have come up with this