ultramangosquad

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not the most interesting

my friends, in my opinion, aren’t quite the most interesting people around. 

they suppress their inner demons with more acts of sin.

succumbing to the art of being comfortably numb.

i look in the mirror and ask myself the same thing. 

have I become comfortably numb?

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by Chinese artist Ma Jun.

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Susceptible (Part 2)

Simmons paced back and forth as the machine below responded,”age 23, mother and father both died in a workplace accident, he graduated from Ole Miss, came to be a salesman recently.”

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Susceptible (Part 1)

With the curtain in his hand, pulling it to his right, he began to stare at a man walking the street.

He looks over at the clock, sips his water, sets it down, and begins to speak. “12:34 PM: Slim young man, looks about 24, I’d say he’s 5’4. He’s carrying a brief case, wearing a salesman outfit.” As he describes the man, below his feet the humming of a machine dominate the basement. Humming and humming, documenting every little detail flowing from his lips.

“12:35 PM: He’s walking up the driveway now- I can handle this from here.”

The machine replies with a robotic feminine tone ,”My pleasure, Christopher. Will be on standby.” The slow humming soon becomes a whir, intercepting the approaching man’s signal within his MAS (mind assistance systems), circa 2078. He walks with confidence, climbs the front door steps quickly, and begins to knock. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“S***, s***—where is it?!“ Christopher’s eyes scan the room, and there it was. He walked slowly to a small case of his. He opens it slowly and with satisfaction- and there it was: his newly bought Glock 19 Gen 27 9mm. KNOCK. KNOCK. He grabs it hastily, and slips it in his hidden jacket pocket.

KNOCK. KNOCK. “Yes, yes! I’m coming,” he yelled, he walks towards the door, he turns the knob, and he opens the door with welcoming delight.

“Ah! Mr. Simmons! I can’t believe I’ve stumbled upon your home! I should get going- you must have plenty of painting to do,” the salesman exclaimed as he recognized Christopher’s visage.

Christopher laughed, “Oh it’s nothing, I’ll get to painting soon enough. What is it that brings you by today?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to purchase some of Mind-Tec’s brand new hardware. May I co-“

“Oh yes, of course, do come in,” interrupted Christopher.

The salesman adjusted himself, picked up his breifcase, and entered his home.

“Ah yes, I didn’t get your name. What was it?” asked Christopher.

“Henry, Henry Garrett,” he replied as he stood still with his eyes scanning the luxurious home, Above him, was a glistening chandelier and a green stained glass window, making the room almost seem ethereal.

Simmons turned back, almost with a look of worry, observing Henry’s gaze. “I see you enjoy the lighting,” he said. “It compliments the room quite nicely, doesn’t it?” Yet there was nothing of red in sight.

“Oh yes, sorry, it’s quite the chandelier and the window,” he replied as he caught up to Simmons.

As the two walked down the hall towards the opening of the living room, Garrett couldn’t mind surveying his surroundings. He looked to his left, he observed Christopher’s studio. It was not at all disorganized, quite the opposite, with the paints neatly organized on shelves and packs of plastic tarp. Garrett simply dismissed such observances, continuing down the hall.

Simmons turned left, and so did Garrett.

The two walked in the kitchen, with Simmons moving a chair open for Garrett.

“Coffee, or tea,” asked Simmons.

“Coffee please,” Henry replied. “So sir, have you ever known of Mind-Tec and our work?”

“Why yes, who hasn’t? The corporation that harvests our data for our own pleasure, assisting us in our everyday lives?” It was almost a reply of sarcasm, not of interest.

“Well sir, not necessarily ‘harvesting’ but…” Henry continued to defend Mind-Tec, as Simmons looked down at his left wrist and hovered his right hand over it. He swiped right on his MCS (micro-computing system), the phone began to ring.

RING. RING.

“Ah, will you excuse me for a minute,” asked Christopher politely.

RING. RING.

“Yes, no problem,” replied Garrett.

Simmons turned to his left, opened the door to a room adjacent to the kitchen, and entered quickly. “Age? Family? Life in general? Who is this guy,” he asked.

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JESUS FOOOOK

Bathing in High Spirits #6weedgod

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friend says he quit smoking then kills over 1000 brain cells with a whippet the next night...tf

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okoye: don’t freeze when you see her

t’challa: i never freeze

nakia: hi

t’challa:

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papi

When you’re actin a fool and your friend records you

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getlifted

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random thought

I feel like when you become very close w someone and know that they understand you, you start to get feelings for them- always in my case. And I kinda believe that since it’s humans biological instinct to have sex w one another (procreation we’re animals duh), we start to develop this feeling of “love”. In essence, love is just a way for our brain to comprehend why we have such desires. So what I’m saying is fuck love, it’s kinda screwed my relationships w people that understand me...or is that just bc they truly don’t? idfk shit

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Just reminding you all that this is the best scene in cinematic history.

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Awareness

Instagram - Facebook - Society6

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edibles

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Stoner art

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AHAHAH APRIL NOOOOOO