THIS. IS. HUGE.
need confirmation plz
www.cnn.com/2014/10/28/us/ferguson-police-chief/index.html?c=homepage-t
BOOOOOOSSSTTTTTt
stepping down to go back to hell i hope
Month: October 2014
Science
Science has been severely misrepresented by authors. If you want to write about scientific worldviews accurately, here are some tips.
- If a scientist saw something supernatural and could be assured it existed, they wouldn’t scream “that’s impossible!” or try to destroy it because it doesn’t fit their worldview. They would be more likely to say “How interesting. I wonder how this will change my theories. I’d better incorporate it into my worldview.”
- Scientists have morals just like the rest of us. In fact, many people become scientists because they want to help humanity. How is that so hard to understand?
- A whole lot of scientists love nature and want to preserve it.
- Scientists who have helped to create deadly weapons almost always regret it. Politicians who order those weapons to be used don’t.
- Science in general would be attracted to magic, not repulsed by it. A new thing to study with possible new applications to help mankind? How wonderful!
- How well a scientist understands people and gets along socially is up to the individual. They’re not an entire profession of evil, cold robots.
All of these are good and true, but going back to the first point, I’d add that if a scientist saw a prove-able supernatural phenomenon, they’d probably be screaming in delight, “WOOOOO! IMMA PUBLISH THIS SHIT IN SCIENCE AND NATURE!!!”
I know several scientists. Without a shadow of a doubt, upon seeing something supernatural, they would likely say “Imma poke it with a stick, someone record the results.’
Writing it down makes it science.
I have headcanons about what vampires should be.
Pay them in blood to tell us what is at the bottom of the ocean.
HP recast
Suraj Sharma as Harry Potter
Lasse Pedersen as Ron Weasley
Jordan Richardson as Hermione Granger
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? By day I’m a 280 foot weaponized robot and in bed I’ll tear off your left arm and murder your brother?
is that………not what you want…………………????
“I’m gay”
NO NO I BOY AND YOU GIRL AND WHEN I SAY JUMP YOU SAY HOW HIGH“the polite thing to do is say yes”
hello rape culture
when something like this happens you should just block the person. Problem solved.
I should clarify, when I say “block” i mean burry them in a block of cement, throw it in the ocean, and let their eternally petrified corpse provide the beginnings of a reef for some young fish because that is the most good that is ever going to come from this pitiful mass of flesh.
^^^^^^^^^
um
A Model Citizen #3
It was such a simple little thing. A smooth jar measuring barely a foot in height from the base to the very tip of the ears of the jackal headed lid. It was painted with bright and gaudy colors in blocks without any rhyme or reason. There were none of the hieroglyphs or stereotypical Egyptian imagery that he had been expecting.
In fact it was nothing like he’d expected at all. He had looked it over at least a dozen times, scraping his nails along the edges and the inside lip. He could find absolutely nothing that would indicate that this was anything other than an oddly shaped but otherwise every day porcelain cookie jar.
Maybe he had been projecting. Campisi had just looked so damned much like the old Mafia bosses portrayed by Hollywood, that maybe he has just imagined the whole under current of menace. Maybe he was just a regular old man looking to get a gift for a relative and unable to pick it up himself.
Maybe his imagination had run wild on him; there were no secret narcotics, no gun running, no adventure. As he picked the package up off of the passenger seat of his car and began the walk to the small apartment he had directed him to, James had to admit that maybe that’s all he had wanted. Travelling the world for his modelling job had been so exciting. He gone to places he had never thought he would, been to parties that he would never have been invited to back in college, done things he had thought only happened in movies.
But the excitement had long since worn off. He was bored.
The door swung open on his third knock, and a middle aged woman waved him into the home. “You must be James.”
“That’s what they tell me,” he tried to offer her a smile, but the state of the apartment distracted him enough to make it awkward and stilted. There was no way that anyone could possibly live here! The damn thing was glorified storage— every inch of it was covered in Egyptian or Middle Eastern artifacts. There were crates stacked upon crates topped with cardboard boxes and plastic bags.
Jewelry filled trays that lined the shelves that existed everywhere that a crate did not. A collection of swords at various levels of restoration lay stacked in a corner. On a small table in the middle of the room were a number of jars to match the one he had brought. Those, however, looked a mite more realistic than his.
“Excellent, excellent,” the woman was practically cooing, eyes locked on the jar in his arms, “May I see the new piece?”
“Uh… yeah, here.” He had to rip his eyes away from the framed papyrus that lined the walls. There was so much in this small room that he had to wonder if it was offsite storage for a museum, as strange as it sounded.
The woman delicately lifted the jar from his hands and inspected it carefully. As he had done before her, she ran her fingers over the lip of the jar; whatever she found brought a smile to her lips. Perhaps there was something more to it, something he hadn’t noticed? He was hardly the kind of person who would know what to look for in replicas.
She moved the few feet necessary to place the new jar on the table with the others, it’s colors garish and glaring against the older looking stone jars. It was one of those jars that she uncapped and withdrew a number of bills.
“Your payment, m’dear,” but she didn’t left go when he took it, “…although. I am more than willing to double it, if you would be so kind as to deliver a piece to one of my clients?”
He was going to inform her that he wasn’t actually a courier. He was going to say something pithy about how much easier it would be just to send it via FedEx or UPS or some such carrier. Hell, couldn’t she take it herself?
He was going to, but his mouth chose to move without his brain. “Alright.”
Her responding smile was so ungodly wicked that it sent a chill down his spine.
usa gets silver:
russia gets silver:
chinese get silver:
british get bronze:
actually, it’s been psychologically proven that bronze winners are happier than silver winners! silver winners see themselves as being “so close” to gold, while bronze winners are just happy they won a medal. so any silver medalist isn’t as happy as a bronze medalist!
Canada gets silver:
ok but it’s canada
this isn’t the dog park
This is the most important thing I’ve seen in a while