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the whole severance process and its subsequent success being manufactured from and built upon the labour and suffering of two women. one a child who designed severance to cope with the reality of the world she was forced into, and one being a woman of colour who was kidnapped and turned into a toy to be used at the whims of a white man. and you all wanted to know why ms huang is a child. well here is your answer. a teenage girl of colour currently under the same scholarship as cobel happily and matter-of-factly carrying out the subjugation of people who only exist because of what lumon exploited out of people like her. lumon having entire institutions dedicated to the continued indoctrination of vulnerable children. lumon systematically ensuring any amount of class or race consciousness or solidarity between their subjects is impossible by having them carry out each other's exploitation on their behalf. the innies just being a new rung at the bottom of the ladder whom the disenfranchised and marginalised can feel empowerment in stepping over. and ms huang is just the next in a long, long line of victims

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thinking abt how fucked up steam engine boiler explosions can look. theyre just pipes under there

gives me the idea of a ghost/monster engine that looks normal, albeit a bit battered, only to swing their smokebox door open and a myriad of pipes come bursting out like fucked up tentacles

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#Go Nimble GO!!

nimble, a border collie-papillon mix, wins the 12” class in the 2024 masters agility championship. the first time a mixed breed has won at westminster ever.

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Gee, I thought these people were the ones who were like “If you don’t like it, you can just move to a blue state.”

And now they’re mad the guy is doing just that?

You can’t oppress and discriminate against someone then be mad when they take their highly useful skill elsewhere.

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Ryan Gosling performing “I’m Just Ken” at the Oscars 2024

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I low-key love the fact that sci-fi has so conditioned us to expect to be hanging out with a bunch of cool space aliens, that legitimate, actual scientists keep proposing the most bizarre, three-blunts-into-the-rotation "theories" to explain the fact we're not.

Some of my favourites include:

Zoo Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they're not talking to us because of the Prime Directive from Star Trek? (Or because they're doing experiments on us???)

Dark Forest Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they all hate us and each other so they're all just waiting with a shotgun pointed at the door, ready to open fire on anything that moves?

Planetarium Theory: What if there's at least one alien with mastery over light and matter that's just making it seem to us that the universe is empty to us as, like, a joke?

Berserker Theory: What if there were loads of aliens, but one of them made infinite killer robots that murdered everyone and are coming for us next?!!

Like, the universe is at least 13,700,000,000 years old and 46,000,000,000 light years big. We have had the ability to transmit and receive signals for, what, 100 years, and our signals have so far travelled 200 light years?

The fact is biological life almost certainly has, does, or will develop elsewhere in the universe, and it's not impossible that a tiny amount of it has, does, or will develop in a way that we would understand as "intelligent". But, like, we're realistically never going to know because of the scale of the things involved.

So I'm proposing my own hypothesis. I call it the "Fool in a Field" hypothesis. It goes like this:

Humanity is a guy standing in the middle of a field at midnight. It's pitch black, he can't move, and he's been standing there for ages. He's just had the thought to swing his arms. He swings one of his arms, once, and does not hit another person. "Oh no!" He says. "Robots have killed them all!"

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we've found it folks: mcmansion heaven

Hello everyone. It is my pleasure to bring you the greatest house I have ever seen. The house of a true visionary. A real ad-hocist. A genuine pioneer of fenestration. This house is in Alabama. It was built in 1980 and costs around $5 million. It is worth every penny. Perhaps more.

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Come on, Kate, that's a little kooky, but certainly it's not McMansion Heaven. This is very much a house in the earthly realm. Purgatory. McMansion Purgatory." Well, let me now play Beatrice to your Dante, young Pilgrim. Welcome. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

It is rare to find a house that has everything. A house that wills itself into Postmodernism yet remains unable to let go of the kookiest moments of the prior zeitgeist, the Bruce Goffs and Earthships, the commune houses built from car windshields, the seventies moments of psychedelic hippie fracture. It is everything. It has everything. It is theme park, it is High Tech. It is Renaissance (in the San Antonio Riverwalk sense of the word.) It is medieval. It is maybe the greatest pastiche to sucker itself to the side of a mountain, perilously overlooking a large body of water. Look at it. Just look.

The inside is white. This makes it dreamlike, almost benevolent. It is bright because this is McMansion Heaven and Gray is for McMansion Hell. There is an overbearing sheen of 80s optimism. In this house, the credit default swap has not yet been invented, but could be.

It takes a lot for me to drop the cocaine word because I think it's a cheap joke. But there's something about this example that makes it plausible, not in a derogatory way, but in a liberatory one, a sensuous one. Someone created this house to have a particular experience, a particular feeling. It possesses an element of true fantasy, the thematic. Its rooms are not meant to be one cohesive composition, but rather a series of scenes, of vastly different spatial moments, compressed, expanded, bright, close.

And then there's this kitchen for some reason. Or so you think. Everything the interior design tries to hide, namely how unceasingly peculiar the house is, it is not entirely able to because the choices made here remain decadent, indulgent, albeit in a more familiar way.

Rare is it to discover an interior wherein one truly must wear sunglasses. The environment created in service to transparency has to somewhat prevent the elements from penetrating too deep while retaining their desirable qualities. I don't think an architect designed this house. An architect would have had access to specifically engineered products for this purpose. Whoever built this house had certain access to architectural catalogues but not those used in the highest end or most structurally complex projects. The customization here lies in the assemblage of materials and in doing so stretches them to the height of their imaginative capacity. To borrow from Charles Jencks, ad-hoc is a perfect description. It is an architecture of availability and of adventure.

A small interlude. We are outside. There is no rear exterior view of this house because it would be impossible to get one from the scrawny lawn that lies at its depths. This space is intended to serve the same purpose, which is to look upon the house itself as much as gaze from the house to the world beyond.

Living in a city, I often think about exhibitionism. Living in a city is inherently exhibitionist. A house is a permeable visible surface; it is entirely possible that someone will catch a glimpse of me they're not supposed to when I rush to the living room in only a t-shirt to turn out the light before bed. But this is a space that is only exhibitionist in the sense that it is an architecture of exposure, and yet this exposure would not be possible without the protection of the site, of the distance from every other pair of eyes. In this respect, a double freedom is secured. The window intimates the potential of seeing. But no one sees.

At the heart of this house lies a strange mix of concepts. Postmodern classicist columns of the Disney World set. The unpolished edge of the vernacular. There is also an organicist bent to the whole thing, something more Goff than Gaudí, and here we see some of the house's most organic forms, the monolith- or shell-like vanity mixed with the luminous artifice of mirrors and white. A backlit cave, primitive and performative at the same time, which is, in essence, the dialectic of the luxury bathroom.

And yet our McMansion Heaven is still a McMansion. It is still an accumulation of deliberate signifiers of wealth, very much a construction with the secondary purpose of invoking envy, a palatial residence designed without much cohesion. The presence of golf, of wood, of masculine and patriarchal symbolism with an undercurrent of luxury drives that point home. The McMansion can aspire to an art form, but there are still many levels to ascend before one gets to where God's sitting.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

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“lol Arthur Conan Doyle clearly didn’t know anything about drugs. Sherlock Holmes did cocaine but it calmed him down. That’s not how cocaine works!”

There are two options: Arthur Conan Doyle had never met someone addicted to cocaine or he met some with ADHD who was addicted to cocaine

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Here's to the people who weren't abused by their parents, but whose parents sucked anyways. Here's to people whose parents fucked up raising you out of ignorance and not malice. Here's to the kids whose parents didn't know what to do with you so they did nothing at all. Here's to people whose parents are getting better and growing as people but still hurt you. Here's to every mean comment that wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't come from your mom; here's to awkward family dinners because you're all trying to forget;

here's to you, survivor of a thousand 'not as bad as it could have been' hurts. I see you. You aren't alone.

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feel free to answer this privately but. I swear to fuck I remember there being a whole thing about how @reallyndacarter was not, in fact, the real lynda carter, and just managed to convince massive swathes of tumblr that she was. Somehow it seems the act is still up and now im left questinoning if i made that up???

Lynda has confirmed that @reallyndacarter is an official account on her Twitter!

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David Tennant on The Last Leg 17.11.2023 :D ❤

Int: We need to congratulate you, by the way, on yet another accolade. Amongst all of David's awards, you were recently named on the DILF list. Now, for those who don't know, DILF, of course, stands for 'Dad I'd Like to Fondle', kind of. .... Here's the top five: 1. Pedro Pascal, 2. Oscar Isaac. 3. David Tennant. 4. Mads Mikkelsen. 5. Cillian Murphy. Oh, and Michael Sheen came in-

David: Oh - where is he on the list?

Int: Michael Sheen's number six.

David: Number six.

Int: Number six.

David: Number six.

David: And where... just remind me where I am.

Int: Three. You're three.

David: Number Three.

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Iconic Poster for The Hunger Games 

I’m sorry but the fangirl inside me couldn’t resist. 

©risarodil

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Stiling Co. Engineer’s Scribe by Jack Stiling

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An AT-AT wet bar? Why yes, please.

You know, a big wooden AT-AT is a spectacularly awesome thing, but it gets even better because this is so much more than that. This is The Emperor’s Cabinet, a giant handcrafted wet bar in the shape of an AT-AT Walker from Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.

That’s right. It’s a handsome wooden AT-AT built to store your booze. Please excuse us while we go swoon for a moment.

Woodworker Colin Johnson has been busy creating this unique liquor cabinet and still has to add finishing touches to it like “brass trim and guns, shelves in the bar and a mirrored interior”.

 This is already so awesome, we can’t wait to see the finished product!

[via Laughing Squid]

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inadvertentcleverness:

tingx2wang:

shesatrainwreck:

From all that:

TO ALL THIS:

I was JUST thinking this today.

Good lord, I want to have his babies. They’ll be awkward children, but gorgeous adults

Goodness gracious.

I'll be in my bunk.

The puberty fairy has been good to Matthew Lewis