animalstalkinginallcaps: FASCISTS, MAN. PASSING ALL THEIR LITTLE LAWS. LAYING DOWN THEIR LITTLE RULES. RESTRICTING MY FREEDOMS. “YOU CAN’T SMOKE POT IN FRONT OF A DAY CARE CENTER.” “YOU CAN’T ROLL A JOINT AT 7-11.” “YOU NEED TO GET A JOB IF YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE IN MY HOUSE. AND STOP SMOKING WEED IN THE SHED. YOU’RE 28.” “DON’T LIGHT THAT RIGHT NEXT TO THE PROPANE TANKS. YOU’LL KILL US ALL.” I BET YOU DIDN’T TAKE THE POOL INTO ACCOUNT WHEN YOU WERE PLANNING YOUR LITTLE OPPRESSIONS. IT’S CALLED MARITIME LAW, MY FRIENDS. YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO HERE. can’t wait to open my pool

animalstalkinginallcaps:

FASCISTS, MAN. PASSING ALL THEIR LITTLE LAWS. LAYING DOWN THEIR LITTLE RULES. RESTRICTING MY FREEDOMS.

“YOU CAN’T SMOKE POT IN FRONT OF A DAY CARE CENTER.”

“YOU CAN’T ROLL A JOINT AT 7-11.”

“YOU NEED TO GET A JOB IF YOU’RE GOING TO LIVE IN MY HOUSE. AND STOP SMOKING WEED IN THE SHED. YOU’RE 28.”

“DON’T LIGHT THAT RIGHT NEXT TO THE PROPANE TANKS. YOU’LL KILL US ALL.”

I BET YOU DIDN’T TAKE THE POOL INTO ACCOUNT WHEN YOU WERE PLANNING YOUR LITTLE OPPRESSIONS.

IT’S CALLED MARITIME LAW, MY FRIENDS. YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO HERE.

can’t wait to open my pool

(Reblogged from animalstalkinginallcaps)
animalstalkinginallcaps: HELLO, AND WELCOME. IT’S GOOD TO SEE SO MANY SMILING FACES IN THE PEWS TODAY. NOW, IT’S IMPORTANT THAT WE GET BACK TO GOOD OLD FASHIONED CHRISTIAN VALUES IN THIS COUNTRY, AND I THINK THE BEST WAY WE CAN DO THAT IS TO FOCUS ON THE PARTS OF THE BIBLE THAT OCCUR BEFORE CHRIST. THAT’S WHY WE’RE CHRISTIANS. BECAUSE CHRIST ISN’T IMPORTANT. WE NEED TO FOCUS ON THE PRIMITIVE, SUPERSTITIOUS, DEPLORABLE PARTS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT THAT ALLOW US TO BE AS FAR REMOVED FROM THE NAMESAKE OF OUR CHOSEN RELIGION AS POSSIBLE SO THAT WE DON’T HAVE TO DO THINGS LIKE EXPLAIN GAY PEOPLE OR ECONOMIC DISPARITY TO OUR KIDS WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY SHITTING ON THE POOR AND REDUCING WOMEN AND BLACKS TO THE LEVEL OF PROPERTY, STRIPPED OF THEIR HARD-WON RIGHTS AND FREEDOMS. WHAT WE ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT DO IS ACKNOWLEDGE THE TEACHINGS AND WISDOM OF THE NEW TESTAMENT, WHICH IS THE BOOK OUR RELIGION DRAWS ITS NAME FROM. THAT WOULD JUST BE SILLY, AND WE’D HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO … EVERYONE, BASICALLY, FOR BEING ENORMOUS, UNREPENTANT ASSHOLES WHO PLACE PERSONAL PROFIT AND COMFORT OVER THE RIGHTS AND NEEDS OF THE MANY. I CAN SEE A LOT OF YOU HERE TODAY ARE GOING TO START ASKING THE SAME KIND OF QUESTIONS THAT GOT JESUS IN SO MUCH TROUBLE, AND I JUST WANT TO ASK YOU: WHAT ARE YOU, SOCIALISTS? STOP ROCKING THE BOAT. IF YOU HAVE A CONSCIENCE THEN THE TERRORISTS HAVE WON. AMEN.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

HELLO, AND WELCOME. IT’S GOOD TO SEE SO MANY SMILING FACES IN THE PEWS TODAY. NOW, IT’S IMPORTANT THAT WE GET BACK TO GOOD OLD FASHIONED CHRISTIAN VALUES IN THIS COUNTRY, AND I THINK THE BEST WAY WE CAN DO THAT IS TO FOCUS ON THE PARTS OF THE BIBLE THAT OCCUR BEFORE CHRIST. THAT’S WHY WE’RE CHRISTIANS. BECAUSE CHRIST ISN’T IMPORTANT. WE NEED TO FOCUS ON THE PRIMITIVE, SUPERSTITIOUS, DEPLORABLE PARTS OF THE OLD TESTAMENT THAT ALLOW US TO BE AS FAR REMOVED FROM THE NAMESAKE OF OUR CHOSEN RELIGION AS POSSIBLE SO THAT WE DON’T HAVE TO DO THINGS LIKE EXPLAIN GAY PEOPLE OR ECONOMIC DISPARITY TO OUR KIDS WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY SHITTING ON THE POOR AND REDUCING WOMEN AND BLACKS TO THE LEVEL OF PROPERTY, STRIPPED OF THEIR HARD-WON RIGHTS AND FREEDOMS.

WHAT WE ABSOLUTELY SHOULD NOT DO IS ACKNOWLEDGE THE TEACHINGS AND WISDOM OF THE NEW TESTAMENT, WHICH IS THE BOOK OUR RELIGION DRAWS ITS NAME FROM. THAT WOULD JUST BE SILLY, AND WE’D HAVE TO APOLOGIZE TO … EVERYONE, BASICALLY, FOR BEING ENORMOUS, UNREPENTANT ASSHOLES WHO PLACE PERSONAL PROFIT AND COMFORT OVER THE RIGHTS AND NEEDS OF THE MANY.

I CAN SEE A LOT OF YOU HERE TODAY ARE GOING TO START ASKING THE SAME KIND OF QUESTIONS THAT GOT JESUS IN SO MUCH TROUBLE, AND I JUST WANT TO ASK YOU: WHAT ARE YOU, SOCIALISTS? STOP ROCKING THE BOAT. IF YOU HAVE A CONSCIENCE THEN THE TERRORISTS HAVE WON. AMEN.

(Reblogged from animalstalkinginallcaps)
animalstalkinginallcaps: EXCUSE ME. DON’T MEAN TO BOTHER YOU BUT YOUR HOOK IS SNAGGED ON MY SPANX. I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST ADMITTED THAT.

animalstalkinginallcaps:

EXCUSE ME. DON’T MEAN TO BOTHER YOU BUT YOUR HOOK IS SNAGGED ON MY SPANX.

I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST ADMITTED THAT.

(Reblogged from animalstalkinginallcaps)
I know most of you don’t give a shit, but in case you were wondering why those pesky Palestinians won’t just shut the fuck up, take a look at the maps. Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction. View high resolution

I know most of you don’t give a shit, but in case you were wondering why those pesky Palestinians won’t just shut the fuck up, take a look at the maps.

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.

(Reblogged from smithforpalestine)
pretty much the only explanation…

pretty much the only explanation…

(Reblogged from sippingonhaterade)
Wonder why Palestinians are so anxious to have their own country? Take a look at the two maps…perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the longer they wait, the less there is…. View high resolution

Wonder why Palestinians are so anxious to have their own country? Take a look at the two maps…perhaps it has something to do with the fact that the longer they wait, the less there is….

(Source: smithforpalestine)

(Reblogged from smithforpalestine)
sippingonhaterade: vodkadrunkenski: slushy: RIP NANCY WAKE (30 August 1912 – 7 August 2011) Ms Wake, who has died in London just before her 99th birthday, was a New Zealander brought up in Australia. She became a nurse, a journalist who interviewed Adolf Hitler, a wealthy French socialite, a British agent and a French resistance leader. She led 7,000 guerrilla fighters in battles against the Nazis in the northern Auvergne, just before the D-Day landings in 1944. On one occasion, she strangled an SS sentry with her bare hands. On another, she cycled 500 miles to replace lost codes. In June 1944, she led her fighters in an attack on the Gestapo headquarters at Montlucon in central France. Work began earlier this month on a feature film about Nancy Wake’s life. Ms Wake, one of the models for Sebastian Faulks’ fictional heroine, Charlotte Gray, had mixed feelings about previous cinematic efforts to portray her wartime exploits, including a TV mini-series made in 1987. “It was well-acted but in parts it was extremely stupid,” she said. “At one stage they had me cooking eggs and bacon to feed the men. For goodness’ sake, did the Allies parachute me into France to fry eggs and bacon for the men? There wasn’t an egg to be had for love nor money. Even if there had been why would I be frying it? I had men to do that sort of thing.” Ms Wake was also furious the TV series suggested she had had a love affair with one of her fellow fighters. She was too busy killing Nazis for amorous entanglements, she said. Even before she escaped to Britain, through Spain, in 1943 to train as a guerrilla leader, Nancy had been top of the Gestapo’s French “wanted” list. With her husband, she ran a resistance network which helped to smuggle Jews and allied airmen out of the country. Nancy recalled later in life that her parachute had snagged in a tree. The French resistance fighter who freed her said he wished all trees bore “such beautiful fruit”. Nancy retorted: “Don’t give me that French shit.” WHAT A BALLER. View high resolution

sippingonhaterade:

vodkadrunkenski:

slushy:

RIP NANCY WAKE (30 August 1912 – 7 August 2011)

Ms Wake, who has died in London just before her 99th birthday, was a New Zealander brought up in Australia. She became a nurse, a journalist who interviewed Adolf Hitler, a wealthy French socialite, a British agent and a French resistance leader. She led 7,000 guerrilla fighters in battles against the Nazis in the northern Auvergne, just before the D-Day landings in 1944. On one occasion, she strangled an SS sentry with her bare hands. On another, she cycled 500 miles to replace lost codes. In June 1944, she led her fighters in an attack on the Gestapo headquarters at Montlucon in central France.

Work began earlier this month on a feature film about Nancy Wake’s life. Ms Wake, one of the models for Sebastian Faulks’ fictional heroine, Charlotte Gray, had mixed feelings about previous cinematic efforts to portray her wartime exploits, including a TV mini-series made in 1987.

“It was well-acted but in parts it was extremely stupid,” she said. “At one stage they had me cooking eggs and bacon to feed the men. For goodness’ sake, did the Allies parachute me into France to fry eggs and bacon for the men? There wasn’t an egg to be had for love nor money. Even if there had been why would I be frying it? I had men to do that sort of thing.”

Ms Wake was also furious the TV series suggested she had had a love affair with one of her fellow fighters. She was too busy killing Nazis for amorous entanglements, she said.

Even before she escaped to Britain, through Spain, in 1943 to train as a guerrilla leader, Nancy had been top of the Gestapo’s French “wanted” list. With her husband, she ran a resistance network which helped to smuggle Jews and allied airmen out of the country.

Nancy recalled later in life that her parachute had snagged in a tree. The French resistance fighter who freed her said he wished all trees bore “such beautiful fruit”. Nancy retorted: “Don’t give me that French shit.”

WHAT A BALLER.

(Reblogged from sippingonhaterade)
melanchali: Today Ellen had a petite soiree on the quai to celebrate her birthday and her impending departure for an international academic adventure. Each guest having been instructed to bring a food from their culture of origin, I could think of no better way to represent the American core value of winning at everything than with this enormous ostentatious flag cake. Sitting neatly amongst crepes, German marble cake and Czech prune cookies, it was heralded by many an appropriate cry from Adina (“WHO WANTS A SLICE OF LIBERTY??”) and generally admired and appreciated. That said, motherfucker was huge, and we had a lot left at the end of the picnic. Luckily, en route from the fete at about 1:30 am, we came across a scene that filled my heart with nostalgia for high school: a large group of loitering adolescent boys, glazed by what I am choosing to project was a toxic mixture of 99 apple, Gatorade and smoldering self-loathing but which in actuality was probably just a bottle or two of Armagnac lifted from somebody’s grandmother. Suddenly, all eyes were on me; more specifically, all eyes were on 3/4 of a flag cake that happened to be in my possession. Somebody drunkenly complained about being hungry and asked me to share, in no way expecting me to respond, but I was carrying a blatantly ridiculous amount of cake and felt it my patriotic duty to share Old Glory with those less sober than I. So I offered them some. For a second they looked at me as if I were Christ, Santa Claus and Lady Liberty rolled into one. Then one of them approached and took a piece, and suddenly they were upon us with the joy of a thousand Tea Party members loosed on a racially segregated, biblically themed amusement park. Between shouts of “Shit’s straight out of a pastry shop!” (French boy) and “THIS IS WHAT FREEDOM TASTES LIKE” (Adina), the cake all but disappeared in a flurry, leaving us to walk home singing the Star Spangled Banner at a frankly inappropriate decibel.  And that, my friends, is the story of the second American liberation of Paris, exacted by A.A. and A.B. on the eve of the former’s return to the United States.  In short, as I hurtle towards the abrupt end of an incredible year, I am grateful… but I can’t say France has nothing to thank me for. All told, bitches, it was I who let them eat cake.  View high resolution

melanchali:

Today Ellen had a petite soiree on the quai to celebrate her birthday and her impending departure for an international academic adventure. Each guest having been instructed to bring a food from their culture of origin, I could think of no better way to represent the American core value of winning at everything than with this enormous ostentatious flag cake. Sitting neatly amongst crepes, German marble cake and Czech prune cookies, it was heralded by many an appropriate cry from Adina (“WHO WANTS A SLICE OF LIBERTY??”) and generally admired and appreciated. That said, motherfucker was huge, and we had a lot left at the end of the picnic.

Luckily, en route from the fete at about 1:30 am, we came across a scene that filled my heart with nostalgia for high school: a large group of loitering adolescent boys, glazed by what I am choosing to project was a toxic mixture of 99 apple, Gatorade and smoldering self-loathing but which in actuality was probably just a bottle or two of Armagnac lifted from somebody’s grandmother. Suddenly, all eyes were on me; more specifically, all eyes were on 3/4 of a flag cake that happened to be in my possession. Somebody drunkenly complained about being hungry and asked me to share, in no way expecting me to respond, but I was carrying a blatantly ridiculous amount of cake and felt it my patriotic duty to share Old Glory with those less sober than I. So I offered them some.

For a second they looked at me as if I were Christ, Santa Claus and Lady Liberty rolled into one. Then one of them approached and took a piece, and suddenly they were upon us with the joy of a thousand Tea Party members loosed on a racially segregated, biblically themed amusement park. Between shouts of “Shit’s straight out of a pastry shop!” (French boy) and “THIS IS WHAT FREEDOM TASTES LIKE” (Adina), the cake all but disappeared in a flurry, leaving us to walk home singing the Star Spangled Banner at a frankly inappropriate decibel. 

And that, my friends, is the story of the second American liberation of Paris, exacted by A.A. and A.B. on the eve of the former’s return to the United States. 

In short, as I hurtle towards the abrupt end of an incredible year, I am grateful… but I can’t say France has nothing to thank me for. All told, bitches, it was I who let them eat cake. 

(Reblogged from melanchali)
barely

barely

(Source: hardcoreforhardcore)

(Reblogged from sippingonhaterade)
even better…

even better…

(Reblogged from princessbeatriceandherhat)