Now Playing Tracks

vinebox:

Watching Pokémon on Saturday mornings as a kid

MBTI most accurate descriptions

woolfhammer:

ESTP: super attractive physically but it’s all downhill from there. never quite know what they’re going to do next but you can probably bet it will be irresponsible. somehow still lovable. 

ESTJ: loud, logical, and get shit done — they are the warrior class of the life rpg. power stats make them unbeatable and if you encounter one, maybe just curl up and forfeit, to save time. 

ESFP: giggly little shits. fun fun fun till her daddy takes the t-bird away. great for lifting your mood, not that great at lifting your credit score. 

ESFJ: too appropriate, totally lacking in awkwardness. they’ll never forget your birthday, which will make you feel like shit when you constantly forget theirs. 

ENTP: excellent companions if you enjoy people who instantly see through all your shit. very clever and very intuitive, you can’t fool them. i suggest you invest in other friends — ones you *can* fool. 

ENTJ: impatient with people who make mistakes, namely, everyone. they’ll respect you if you stand up to them but why do that when you can run away instead. cuddle them and see what happens. i’m curious.

ENFP: too puppy to live. best suited for the profession of musical nanny. not advised for use around an open flame. 

ENFJ: way too charming and capable, maybe they should stop making everyone else look bad. prone to making other people care about stuff they didn’t want to care about. so annoying. 

ISTP: such butts. best suited for an apocalypse scenario, if no such scenario exists, they will create danger because they get bored. don’t encourage them, but don’t discourage them, as reverse psychology works too well.

ISTJ: low drama and low maintenance, best value at this price tier. best suited to actual human existence. least weird, which makes them kinda weird.

ISFP: squishy little darlings you might want to keep in your pocket, but please don’t or they will become forlorn. they notice everything, and it’s unnerving. 

ISFJ: quietly and proudly do things for others. if you have a ring you need to deliver to mordor, take an ISFJ along with you for best results. 

INTP: cute intergalactic spiders you want to hug and mistrust. prone to making you laugh but then days later you will wonder whether you were the butt of the joke. 

INTJ: major dicks and kinda proud of it. prone to being right. prone to liking trance music way too much. all the ones i’ve ever met have been unexpectedly kinky. so i guess, expectedly. 

INFP: they fall out of the sky and are raised by unicorns. if you feed one it will follow you home. they dissipate in water. 

INFJ: chameleons appropriating your emotions and going quietly mad. prone to meltdowns and needing lots of naps.

(Source: dontbecuteyoufuck)

In The Creation of Patriarchy, [Gerda] Lerner explores the origins of women’s subordinate roles to men in society. This summary is inspired by the last chapter of the book, which is titled “The Creation of Patriarchy”. She starts historically by referring to the Neolithic period when women were exchanged between tribes for practicality purposes. Indeed, societies that had more women could produce more children and therefore have more labour at hand for agriculture and consequently produce more surpluses. These exchanges led to the commodification of women’s sexuality and reproductive capacity by men. During warfare, men, as warriors, conquered other tribes and captured members of the “enemy”: men, women and children. In order to exercise power over these captives and make them slaves, men justified their control by the most apparent difference, often sex. The captured were treated differently depending on the sex: men were workers and women providers of sexual services, reproduction, as well as workers.

In societies, the status of men and women was based on very different things as a consequence of the already subordinate role of women. Men were judged by their resources for production, what they owned, including the commodity of female sexual services; women’s status was determined through their sexual ties to a man and his resources for production. Moreover, women who did not conform to these heterosexual roles still had to depend on a male dominant figure in their own family, such as a brother, or were simply de-classed. Traditionally, women were subordinate to men all their lives and could not grow out of it. Throughout the years, women simply went from one male protector, the father, to another, the husband. Furthermore, a woman’s marriage partner was chosen in line with her family’s interest. Women were also deprived of the right to be educated and were left out of History. With nothing to base alternatives on, women were left to the oppression of patriarchy. According to Lerner, “it is this feature of male hegemony which has been most damaging to women and has ensured their subordinate status for millennia.” (223).

Patriarchy nevertheless survived with the cooperation of women. According to Lerner, “This cooperation is secured by a variety of means: gender indoctrination; educational deprivation; the denial to women of knowledge of their history; the dividing of women, one from the other, by defining ‘respectability’ and ‘deviance’ according to women’s sexual activities; by restraints and outright coercion; by discrimination in access to economic resources and political power; and by awarding class privileges to conforming women.” (217).

Even during the last century, as well as today in most of the underdeveloped countries, women are marginal and dependent on the protection of male kin. The small number of independent, self-supporting women in various societies are usually highly vulnerable to economic disaster. Today, our challenge is to “step outside of patriarchal thought” (228) by trusting and valuing our female experience and thought even though it has been marginalized and trivialized for the past 2500 years.

(via exgynocraticgrrl)

We survive through amnesia, by being unable to remember what happened to us. We survive by not remembering the name of the woman who was in the newspaper yesterday, who was walking somewhere and was missing. What was her name? There are too many of them. I am sick to death of not being able to remember the names. There’s one name especially I can never remember: (tw) the woman who was gang-raped on the pool table in New Bedford, Massachusetts, by four men while everyone else in the bar stood and watched and cheered. That woman died in an automobile accident, the kind the police will always call suicide, within one year after the rape trial. Three months before this woman was raped on that pool table, Hustler ran a spread of a woman being gang-raped on a pool table. Everything that was done to the woman in the pornography was done to that woman, in that bar, that night. After the New Bedford gang rape, Hustler ran a photograph of a woman in a pornographic pose, sitting on a pool table, depicted like a postcard, saying, “Welcome to New Bedford.” The rape trial was televised in the United States. The ratings beat out the soap operas. People watched it as entertainment every day. The woman was driven out of town, even though the rapists were convicted. Within one year she was dead and no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember her name.

… [T]here are the women whose names I do remember: for instance, Jennifer Levin, a woman who was murdered in New York in Central Park by a man who had been her lover. And the reason I know her name is that when she was murdered by this lover of hers, the New York tabloid press put her name on the front page in headlines to say what a slut she was. Now, I didn’t buy any of those papers; it’s just that I couldn’t leave my house and not read the headlines. So the boy goes to trial— a white boy, an upper-class boy, wealthy. It gets called “the preppie murder case.” And we hear for the first time about something called the rough-sex defense. It goes as follows: “She wanted to have really rough, painful, humiliating sex. She was an aggressive bitch and she tried to tie him up. And she hurt him, and he got so upset that in trying to free himself, he accidentally strangled her, with her bra.” In this scenario, the way women are treated when women are raped is suddenly the way women are treated when women are murdered: she provoked it. She wanted it. She liked it and she got what she deserved. When the head of our sex-crimes unit, Linda Fairstein, tried to get a conviction of this man, Robert Chambers, for murder, she had a problem: she couldn’t find a motive. She didn’t think that she could convince the jury that there was any reason for Robert Chambers to kill Jennifer Levin. Of course, there wasn’t any reason, except that he wanted to— and he could. He plea-bargained, so the jury decision never came in. Most of us thought he was going to be acquitted. After he plea-bargained, videos were shown on television of Mr. Chambers at sex parties making fun of strangling the woman—sitting naked, surrounded by women, reenacting the murder and laughing about it. We live in a world where men kill women and the motives are not personal at all. As any woman in this room who has ever been beaten or raped knows, it is one of the most impersonal experiences you will ever have. You are a married woman. You live with a man. You think that he knows you and you know him. But when he begins to hurt you, he does it because you’re a woman— not because you’re whoever you are.

I want us to stop lying. I think that we tell a lot of lies to get through every day, and I want us to stop. One of the lies we tell is that this kind of woman hating is not as pernicious, as lethal, as sadistic, as vicious as other kinds of hatred that are directed against people because of a condition of birth. We have recognized some of the historical atrocities that have occurred. We say to ourselves, this isn’t the same. I’m Andrea. I’m Jane. I’m me. But everyone has said that. Every Jew pushed onto a train said, “But why are you doing this? I’m me.” The Nazis didn’t have a personal motive that could be understood in those terms.

Andrea Dworkin, Life and Death: Unapologetic Writing on the Continuing War Against Women

(via exgynocraticgrrl)

thetenthdoctormccoy:

agent-of-whimsy:

didney-worl-no-uta:

admiralrainbow:

rirygoesrawr:

cyanide-poisoning:

Men Experiencing Labor Pains

With their wives supporting them.

HAHAHHAHAHA TOO GOOD

I bet a kick in the balls would feel real good right about then.

“Men can handle anything”

“Women exaggerate everything”

And then they realized just how wrong they were

wife: “are you ok”

Husband : “dont talk to me”

SO. GOOD.

(Source: vimeo.com)

At 19, I read a sentence that re-terraformed my head: “The level of matter in the universe has been constant since the Big Bang.”
In all the aeons we have lost nothing, we have gained nothing - not a speck, not a grain, not a breath. The universe is simply a sealed, twisting kaleidoscope that has reordered itself a trillion trillion trillion times over.
Each baby, then, is a unique collision - a cocktail, a remix - of all that has come before: made from molecules of Napoleon and stardust and comets and whale tooth; colloidal mercury and Cleopatra’s breath: and with the same darkness that is between the stars between, and inside, our own atoms.
When you know this, you suddenly see the crowded top deck of the bus, in the rain, as a miracle: this collection of people is by way of a starburst constellation. Families are bright, irregular-shaped nebulae. Finding a person you love is like galaxies colliding. We are all peculiar, unrepeatable, perambulating micro-universes - we have never been before and we will never be again. Oh God, the sheer exuberant, unlikely fact of our existences. The honour of being alive. They will never be able to make you again. Don’t you dare waste a second of it thinking something better will happen when it ends. Don’t you dare.
Caitlin Moran (via blowyourownjob)

(Source: lustsandluxuries)

The Archangel Raziel found, after some consideration, that he did not care for being run over by a Swedish automobile. As far as things “dirtside” went, he liked Snickers bars, barbecued pork ribs, and pinochle; he also enjoyed Spider-Man, Days of Our Lives, and Star Wars (although the concept of fictional film eluded the angel and he thought they were all documentaries); and you just couldn’t beat raining fire on the Egyptians or smiting the bejeezus out of some Philistines with lightning bolts (Raziel was good with weather), but overall, he could do without missions to Earth, humans and their machines in general, and (now) Volvo station wagons in particular.



Raziel wished he could trade this in for the destruction of a city. That was so simple. You found the city, you killed all the people, you leveled all the buildings, even if you totally screwed it up you could track down the survivors in the hills and kill them with a sword, which, in truth, Raziel kind of enjoyed. Unless, of course, you destroyed the wrong city, and he’d only done that what? Twice? Cities in those days weren’t that big, anyway. Enough people to fill a couple of good-size Wal-Marts, tops. Now there’s a mission, thought the angel: “Raziel! Go forth into the land and lay waste unto two good-size Wal-Marts, slay until blood doth flow from all bargains and all the buildings are but rubble — and pick up a few Snickers bars for yourself

christopher moore, the stupidest angel (via gatheringbones)
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