fuckyeahmarxismleninism:

Happening now in Ferguson, Missouri: Instead of following police orders to disperse, protesters get on their knees with their hands up, refuse to move, August 13, 2014.

fuckyeahmarxismleninism:

Happening now in Ferguson, Missouri: Instead of following police orders to disperse, protesters get on their knees with their hands up, refuse to move, August 13, 2014.

This shit better work, I don’t want to die alone
My roommate signing up for eharmony (via theonlymatty)

quentintortellini:

History Parallels

1st image: 1967 Newark Riots

2nd image: 2014 Ferguson Protests

3rd image: 1964 Harlem Riots

4th image: 2014 Ferguson Protests

BUT WHY IS IT STILL LIKE THIS??!?!?!?!?!?!

James Monroe Iglehart and the Broadway company of Aladdin pay tribute to Robin Williams [x]

as-seenon-tv:

I’ve never met Chris Pratt but I trust him

thechelby:

checking my bank account on any day

thechelby:

checking my bank account on any day

roughness:

tune in tonight for another episode of “is he cute or just tall? am I lowering my standards out of desperation? am I doomed to roam the earth as a lonely, unloved wretch for eternity? would I fuck a 30 year old? would I fuck a broke 30 year old?”

baeddelbludd:

LIFE HACK: disguise your nervous breakdown as a series of jokes

Middle-Aged Harry Potter Books (x)

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.

Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?

The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.

She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,

Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.

She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.

Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.

Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.

She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.

To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.

And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,

With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.

Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.

They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be.  (via oliviacirce)

When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.

(via bookoisseur)

I’m really glad I read that.

(via selfesteampunk)

postracialcomments:

Ferguson Police Officers brought the dogs out in fear of a “riot”

rapunzael:

Charlotte’s fairytale book said, if you make a wish on the Evening Star, it’s sure to come true.

magnezone:

don’t get it twisted like i respect bugs for being the best they can be in spite of their specific assigned flesh prisons and their ecological significance but they need to stay the fuck away from me 

We are the heart of the Saturday night
My name's Shade, I'm twenty-one years old, and I'm currently studying Psychology at University. This blog is basically for things that I like, find humorous, cool, or true. So, enjoy!..oh, and just a fair warning, you might wake up to alot of random Bob Dylan spam on your dash from time to time, and my favorite color is purple users online
Blogs I fallow