rockshitty

[rockshitty]

"why are you following a pro shipper" so I can get better at shipping? How am I supposed to improve my meta if I'm only watching amateur plays. I'm trying to hit nationals next month

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[rockshitty]

The history of the Disney company is so fucking fascinating and complicated that I could spend the rest of my life studying it.

I hate the company. I love the media. I want it to burn. I was profoundly shaped as a person by some of the art its workers have produced. It’s evil. It’s beautiful. It’s an eldritch horrorterror personified as a charismatic mouse. It’s a nightmarish example of capitalist hell. It destroys as much as it creates. It’s a flaming trainwreck. I can’t look away.

It’s the goddamn Elephant’s Foot of media studies.

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There’s a lot of excellent examples of the difference between a million and a billion, but here’s my new personal favorite from a conversation I had today:

A million minutes ago was April 2021, the height of the COVID pandemic.

A billion minutes ago was November 121 CE, the height of the Roman Empire.

[rockshitty]

One time I got a callout post for being pro-palestine. The author wanted to call me a tumblrina. They also wanted to respect my nonbinary identity, and conjugated the word as "Tumblrine."

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the last time I went out for drinks with a guy, I folded my cloth napkin into a (slightly imperfect) crane, and he was not impressed at all. why do I even BOTHER to train my ABILITIES.

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OP: This is the first time I've seen the Yellow River's sediment discharge with my own eyes.

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i just don't think that people should have to disclose their deepest and most life-ruining traumas as a requirement to write about sensitive topics

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I recently watched a video of a pair of Sandhill Cranes raising a Canada Gosling, and it seems that it isn't the first example of it in the last few years. Are cranes like penguins where they will steal eggs/hatchlings if they had an unsuccessful breeding season, or is there some other reason that they 'adopt' baby geese?

If you follow enough birding groups in Sandhill crane territory, you’ll eventually see someone post a baby duckling or goose that is following around a pair of cranes. It’s not common, but it happens enough to be a thing!

Sandhill cranes don’t seem to steal babies, but they have an extremely strong parenting instinct. If they find a baby that needs taking care of, you can bet they’re going to take damn good care of it. There are documented cases of Sandhill cranes adopting unrelated crane chicks as well as geese and domestic ducks. They just love babies. There has even been some research into using Sandhill cranes as foster parents for endangered whooping cranes in order to re-establish a non migrating population of the latter. Sandhill cranes are super parents!

[rockshitty]

If anybody has made a gifset of the scene where huntrix is waiting to kill the saja boys and saying "done, done, done" and hunching away while going "hehehe" please tag me!!!

That scene always cracks me up, and I love how they look like evil gremlin henchmen while holding onto their weapons

[rockshitty]

Sam Handwich.

[rockshitty]

I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.

-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a

~*Spiritual Experience*~

I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.

Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.

He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only BARELY enough space for the fireworks and certainly none for his truck.

So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand. This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.

He begins, and this is crucial to what happens next, by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it unsecured on his lawn.

Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.

His process for unloading the fireworks is to 1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls. 2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things. 3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed 4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup. 5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her. 6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house. 7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too. 8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate 9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed 10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.

Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man? Answer: Absolutely Not.

There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else. (This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual) Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally. Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.

I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.

However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up. and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop" And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."

For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."

I move under the eaves. "Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled." "Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not." "Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."

Sometimes, the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.

The Gods were not merciful today.

It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this, But I got to see it today. Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before. Oh. I realized as it got closer. That's RAIN.

Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say, five to tent square miles, is instead concentrated into an area of say, my neighborhood exactly.

So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.

The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel. Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge. Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.

My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp. They do not have a tarp. They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.

Which is when the hail begins.

"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy. "HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!" "OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"

I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic. The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor. Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.

So. I was raised Agnostic -but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.

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(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)

[rockshitty]

[rockshitty]

No one tell me if there’s discourse happening. I started thinking about women with gray hair and wrinkles and got so horny I passed out

you ever see a famous 20-something woman and think that she’s very pretty but also you know in your heart she has the potential to age into the most etherial gilf known to lesbianism. but you also know that because of her social standing and the current cultural landscape she’s going to get loads of plastic surgery and botox and you will be robbed of ever getting to witness her maximum divine gilfyness potential. it’s just so sad. why must I be doomed to watch these women poorly taxidermy their youth

[rockshitty]

Trying to inflict psychic damage to a tumblr user is like trying to irradiate a cockroach, like it can be done, but the lethal dose is not safe for humans either

[rockshitty]

Got blocked by the cis guy who's been going around saying that all trans men benefit from the patriarchy for daring to ask how exactly I benefit from the patriarchy as a visibly trans guy who does not pass and gets treated worse than when I still thought I was a cis woman. It's so funny how they never can give you an example, all they can do is hope none of their followers read your lived experiences and start to question their authority even a little bit. It sure would be terrible if trans people were allowed to speak with authority on our own lives.