I Am So Proud Of Kanga For Weaponizing Roo.

And now I understand what George Rodrigue was on about with all the blue dogs.

living in a village of farmers is the fucking best i just left a party and the butcher was like hey i got some bones for your dog. your dog specifically because i like the cut of his jib. hell yeah

do you know how fucking great it is to get home tipsy as hell wake up your dog he is already exited to see you and you are like here you go a big bone for your majesty...my man thought he was damn heaven!! so good

I was born in the late nineteen hundreds

Drain cockroach ◻️

settings > my shower > manage my shower

water 🟩

soap 🟩

corner spider ⬜️

Reblogging so I can find this recipe again when it’s time to bake

Apparently boomer Democrats are having meltdowns over a gen-z progressive who is primarying an 80 year old Democrat because she "went on trans podcasts" and wore a Charizard kigurumi

"I want to live in a world in which teenagers can fulfil their natural purpose of being annoying" and "I do not always want to be annoyed by the teenagers" are compatible sentiments

Y'know, I just saw the phrasing in @mega-ringsandthings-world ’s post about annoying Jonsas and went “Holy shit, that’s right”.

“She only burned a couple hundred people tops”

But that makes sense. Think about it. King’s Landing is huge. Drogon is tiny in comparison. Look at this:

They’re just picking streets at random; look at how much isn’t burning! The only possible way King’s Landing could have been burned to the foundations was if Dany and Drogon purposely went back and forth row by row like that one time I tried to cover a small Minecraft world in gemstones. I’m not sure how long dragons can breathe fire, but that doesn’t seem right. And considering how quickly the battle was over…

Yeah, there’s no way she did that. There were a lot of buildings still standing while the Red Keep fell. This isn’t the Dany we know and love, but it still puts her at a lower kill count than some characters in Game of Thrones (not even counting the prequels to A Song of Ice and Fire). This website put it at 300-500,

maybe a bit higher (possible, depending on how many people were stupid enough to stay in the streets, because they definitely seemed to be mostly targeting streets). Still random death—not genocide. Learn your words.

In conclusion, D&D were grossly overestimating by saying half a million. Fuck’s sake, you think that’s systematic genocide? Look at the Holocaust. You think that’s a lot of deaths for a war and definitely the worst war crime ever? Look at WWII, and tell me Daenerys is Hitler. That’s insensitive to actual victims.

But here’s a fucking thing:

Look at who’s number two on the list.

mysteries 🌜 happy autumn equinox!

Fuckyeah Terry Pratchett!

Terry Pratchett about fantasy ❤

Terry Pratchett interview in The Onion, 1995 (x)

O: You’re quite a writer. You’ve a gift for language, you’re a deft hand at plotting, and your books seem to have an enormous amount of attention to detail put into them. You’re so good you could write anything. Why write fantasy?

Terry: I had a decent lunch, and I’m feeling quite amiable. That’s why you’re still alive. I think you’d have to explain to me why you’ve asked that question.

O: It’s a rather ghettoized genre.

Terry: This is true. I cannot speak for the US, where I merely sort of sell okay. But in the UK I think every book— I think I’ve done twenty in the series— since the fourth book, every one has been one the top ten national bestsellers, either as hardcover or paperback, and quite often as both. Twelve or thirteen have been number one. I’ve done six juveniles, all of those have nevertheless crossed over to the adult bestseller list. On one occasion I had the adult best seller, the paperback best-seller in a different title, and a third book on the juvenile bestseller list. Now tell me again that this is a ghettoized genre.

O: It’s certainly regarded as less than serious fiction.

Terry: (Sighs) Without a shadow of a doubt, the first fiction ever recounted was fantasy. Guys sitting around the campfire— Was it you who wrote the review? I thought I recognized it— Guys sitting around the campfire telling each other stories about the gods who made lightning, and stuff like that. They did not tell one another literary stories. They did not complain about difficulties of male menopause while being a junior lecturer on some midwestern college campus.

Fantasy is without a shadow of a doubt the ur-literature, the spring from which all other literature has flown. Up to a few hundred years ago no one would have disagreed with this, because most stories were, in some sense, fantasy. Back in the middle ages, people wouldn’t have thought twice about bringing in Death as a character who would have a role to play in the story. Echoes of this can be seen in Pilgrim’s Progress, for example, which hark back to a much earlier type of storytelling. The epic of Gilgamesh is one of the earliest works of literature, and by the standard we would apply now— a big muscular guys with swords and certain godlike connections— That’s fantasy. The national literature of Finland, the Kalevala. Beowulf in England. I cannot pronounce Bahaghvad-Gita but the Indian one, you know what I mean. The national literature, the one that underpins everything else, is by the standards that we apply now, a work of fantasy.

Now I don’t know what you’d consider the national literature of America, but if the words Moby Dick are inching their way towards this conversation, whatever else it was, it was also a work of fantasy. Fantasy is kind of a plasma in which other things can be carried. I don’t think this is a ghetto. This is, fantasy is, almost a sea in which other genres swim. Now it may be that there has developed in the last couple of hundred years a subset of fantasy which merely uses a different icongraphy, and that is, if you like, the serious literature, the Booker Prize contender. Fantasy can be serious literature. Fantasy has often been serious literature. You have to fairly dense to think that Gulliver’s Travels is only a story about a guy having a real fun time among big people and little people and horses and stuff like that. What the book was about was something else. Fantasy can carry quite a serious burden, and so can humor. So what you’re saying is, strip away the trolls and the dwarves and things and put everyone into modern dress, get them to agonize a bit, mention Virginia Woolf a few times, and there! Hey! I’ve got a serious novel. But you don’t actually have to do that.

(Pauses) That was a bloody good answer, though I say it myself.