(9.23.14) — Another morning in Amerikkka. Somebody thought it would be fun to desecrate the Mike Brown Memorial early this morning. I… I really can’t even. #staywoke #farfromover
Here’s a picture of some cops watching the memorial burn although there seemed to be no police at the scene when the fire department arrived.
I feel sick.
Evil Empire Issue 3
And, just like that, I’m enthralled.
I think it’s always been clear that the 2nd Amendment is for white people.
(via xkcd: En Garde)
The fact that the dancing jello cube is the featured image up there is really all you need to know about this post.
There I was, writing a post about a board game and suddenly I knew I had to include celebration gifs because I won suck it Justin and then things went off the rails and statsig and I spent like an hour trading gifs.
Then I realized the post was too long so I split it into two and I’ve had to sit on these gifs for a week.
Prince Harry and John Barrowman both do a mutual high five/ass slap combo omg
Can we just appreciate that John smacked Prince Harry’s royal ass so hard that the guy actually had to rub himself a little while John waves his hand
Can we just appreciate that John smacked Prince Harry’s royal ass
It’s basically illegal not to reblog this.
today is bi visibility day. as such, bisexual people will be completely visible for the next 24 hours. this is a bad day to engage in bank heists, ghost impersonations, covert operations for vague yet menacing government agencies, and other common bisexual hobbies that rely upon our powers of invisibility.
reblog to save a life.
Alright, let’s talk about this. Whoever wrote this trite nugget from the sweaty nightmares of Nicholas Sparks wrote it on a Build-A-Bear receipt. What’s so special about this Build-A-Bear receipt, you ask? Well, for one, our author purchased a hot pink Hello Kitty Build-A-Bear with leopard print accents, and added a few customized messages. But it’s where this Build-A-Bear store is that is the real story.
This is in Niagara Falls, Ontario, right on Victoria Avenue in Clifton Hill, which is a terrifying amalgam of Las Vegas, Myrtle Beach, and Tijuana, an unsophisticated casserole of unskilled teenagers and Chinese tourists seasoned with regurgitated Jägerbombs and baked to a limp sludge in $30 motor inns. It’s the destination for American kids aged 19 and 20 who can’t yet drink in the States, and the destination for Canadians who want a fabulous, once-in-a-lifetime chance to stare at Niagara Falls for three minutes and then spend the rest of their time drinking Al Keith’s in their room at the Days Inn.
I can only imagine that our heartbroken receipt-scrivener scrawled this after her boyfriend (who was named Bobby, no question about it) left her right outside the Ripley’s Believe-It-Or-Not to get back with his girlfriend Tammy back in Kitchener. She rushed to the Build-A-Bear and constructed this hideous monument to Bobby, which she still keeps next to her bed every night, even though she never mentions to her new boyfriend why.
This is the best description of Clifton Hill I’ve ever seen.
Completely accurate description of Clifton Hill.