Suggestions Netflix Should Make by Nathan W. Pyle
I made these for BuzzFeed last fall and forgot to reblog it.
(Source: bonyxknees, via johanirae)
Anonymous asked: could you write a tiny love letter to humanity?
THINGS I CURRENTLY LOVE ABOUT HUMANITY, A LIST
- The way brake lights flicker through the bare limbs of trees out the window of my apartment
- the soft grinding of the CTA line as it passes into night, carrying unknown individuals pats, to the dark
- our downstairs neighbors as they have soft, languorous sex, gently rattling our china cabinet as their headboard slams against the wall
- My criminal law professor, who (despite a rough, emotionally-scarring military and prosecutorial past) articulates the necessity of being open to criticism as “if I alienate you from learning, I have failed as a professor”
- the very gentle inquiries into what we’re all doing for spring break, the necessity of sunshine and/or our mothers’ cooking
- Talking about work/life balance with other law students, some of whom believe in nothing of the sort, and others who harbor that spark of romanticism, that love can be found in a desperate place
- How much people still long for external approval, even into their thirties and foties, so much as to be braggarts, desperate for external approval from law students ten to fifteen years their junior.
- You are never really not that person you were at twelve and thirteen. It will all be a little easier if you love them gently, and with kindness.
HOW IT SHOULD’VE WENT
this seemed so natural and correct to me that I had to read it three times before I realized what was wrong with it
Okay I know I just reblogged this, but I’m not done with it.
Has anyone else thought about how much more compelling this simple change would have been thematically? We lose nothing of Clint’s character development, because a sister can be just as important and share the same concerns as a wife. But instead of an awkwardly underdeveloped romantic relationship, suddenly there’s a sibling relationship to parallel the Maximoffs. But Clint has chosen to protect his family and keep them out of it, while Pietro and Wanda have chosen to fight side by side. Give Clint a conversation with Pietro about family, and protecting their family. Make them disapprove of each other’s methods. Pietro’s sacrifice to save Clint is instantly so much more heartbreaking. Give us Clint fighting to bring Pietro’s body back, because he knows he needs to bring him home to Wanda.
Literally so much improvement with less than five minutes of the actual film changed
All of this
(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)
gosh but like we spent hundreds of years looking up at the stars and wondering “is there anybody out there” and hoping and guessing and imagining
because we as a species were so lonely and we wanted friends so bad, we wanted to meet other species and we wanted to talk to them and we wanted to learn from them and to stop being the only people in the universe
and we started realizing that things were maybe not going so good for us— we got scared that we were going to blow each other up, we got scared that we were going to break our planet permanently, we got scared that in a hundred years we were all going to be dead and gone and even if there were other people out there, we’d never get to meet them
and then
we built robots?
and we gave them names and we gave them brains made out of silicon and we pretended they were people and we told them hey you wanna go exploring, and of course they did, because we had made them in our own image
and maybe in a hundred years we won’t be around any more, maybe yeah the planet will be a mess and we’ll all be dead, and if other people come from the stars we won’t be around to meet them and say hi! how are you! we’re people, too! you’re not alone any more!, maybe we’ll be gone
but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?
the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.
and they told us to tell you hello.
REBLOG EVERYTIME
(Source: swanjolras-archive, via lupinatic)
"
when i was five, and romance didn’t exist for boys, it did exist for me. “she’s going to break hearts one day,” people said, speaking about me over my head. i smiled, because that is something little girls are supposed to be pleased to hear.
when i was six i was supposed to kiss my best friend because he was a boy, and when i wouldn’t, he pushed me down hard enough that my palms bled. he said if i told a teacher, he’d tell everyone i kissed him and i was bad at it. i washed off in the school’s bathroom sink and cried about it all through recess.
at eight, i stopped wearing dresses because i couldn’t turn cartwheels in them. “a tomboy,” somebody said about me, over my head, as if i couldn’t hear them. i said, “i don’t want to be a boy,” and they laughed. “we know, sweetness.” i said, “i’m not sweet, i’m serious,” and they laughed again. “you’re cute,” they said. i smiled at that, because that’s something little girls are supposed to be pleased to hear.
at nine, i had too many friends that were boys. “i don’t like it,” my father said, standing in the kitchen. i didn’t understand it. “your body is going to start changing soon, and i don’t want those boys looking at you. i don’t like it,” he’d repeat. we moved away that summer. i lost everybody.
when i was eleven, my teacher took me out of the classroom and asked me to put on another layer because even though it was hot in there, all of the boys were staring at the little forming bumps on my chest. i remember embarrassment spiking down my spine like lightning. i begged my mother to take me bra shopping. it was terrible there, in those bright stores with bright lights and beautiful women with tight thighs. it was terrible and embarrassing to touch or look at or even think about these things.
at thirteen, my best guy friend wrestled me to the ground and covered me in kisses no matter how much i asked him to stop it. “it’s supposed to be like this,” he kept repeating, “just stop struggling.” he told me i was pretty and lovely and that boys and girls can’t be friends. he told me to stop being so mad at him, that little girls are supposed to be pleased about these things.
the same winter, i was catcalled for the first time in my whole life. i jumped when the car pulled up by my side. they said “baby” over my head as if i wasn’t who they were discussing. i didn’t smile about it. i had to sit down to stop myself from vomiting.
when i was fifteen, half of my friends were boys. my best friend was in love with me. he told me i was breaking his heart. he said that if i didn’t love him back, he’d have nothing to live for anymore. the story with the rest of them is all the same. either they left me or they thought they fell in love with the idea of somebody i wasn’t.
that summer when i was sad - and i was sad categorically, always - i tried reaching out. when i turned to the boys, all i heard was, “don’t cut, you’re beautiful,” “don’t kill yourself, you’re so pretty,” “think of the scars, sweetie,” “when you cut yourself, i’m the one who starts bleeding.” i didn’t smile, although i think girls are supposed to be pleased to hear these things. i didn’t know how to say: i don’t feel beautiful, and even if i did, what i’m doing to myself has nothing to do with you, or what i look like, or how fuckable i am to you. instead i told them i was fine, and fixed, and nothing bad was happening.
when he broke my heart, it was because i told him no. when he left, i cried because it hurt to watch my best friend go. when he left, he said that he’d never liked me for my soul: only for my curves, the only real way to measure worth in a girl.
at sixteen, i had only girl friends. they were gentle, and different, and walked me through things. they held my hand when classes got too loud for me, and it meant friendship. they kissed me on the cheeks when i was crying, and it meant friendship. they slept next to me and it was friendship in the way i wasn’t used to. i was used to “stop being a tease,” to “why are you doing this to me.” it was just friendship, and it was excellent.
i was called a dyke, a lesbian, a man-hater. i thought of the men who had hurt me, who had spoken over my head, who had given me their full opinion even though i never asked for it. i was hated by basically everyone. i was sad and lonely so often that i often thought i’d never feel happy again.
at nineteen, in college, i had friends who were boys again, because college boys are supposed to be old enough to see you as a person. they all called me Steve, short for Steven. at first i thought it was some kind of inside joke, that it was cute, that it meant they loved me the way i loved them all. one day while we were both drunk, i asked one of them why they wouldn’t just say my name. he laughed. he said, “god, you’re going to hate me when i explain.” he said that they’d all formed an agreement behind my back that none of them would fuck me, that if i was going to be one of the bros, i couldn’t be a girl to them. i could only be seen as a boy if i wanted to be their friend. he said this all while staring at a point over my head, and tried to kiss me at the end. when i pushed him away, he said, “sorry, steve,” took a breath, “but if i start seeing you as a girl, i’m gonna try to kiss you again.”
i said, “i don’t want to be a boy, though,” and he laughed again.
he said, “i know, sweetie.”
at twenty-two, i am sick of boys who are “nice,” who are “not like other boys,” who are offended when i don’t immediately trust their intentions. i have been hurt over and over and over again. i only talk to about three of my boy friends and the rest i lost because i dared not to fuck them.
at the same time, i kept most of my girl friends. i have had crushes on most of them. it never impacted our relationships. even girls who are gay like i am know that being friends doesn’t mean i owe them. they hold my eyes when i talk to them.
i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i love so many people, and many boys are wonderful and charming and excellent. i’m sorry i flinch away from a friendship. i’m sorry i will be cold and unaffectionate and scared of getting too close
it’s just that, since i was five, i was told i break hearts.
"— girls don’t owe you shit, dude: a polite reply to a post which inadvertently blames girls for distrusting the affections of a guy friend // r.i.d
(via inkskinned)
37q:
did anyone ever actually read animorphs or did we all just glance at the covers and assume it needed no explanation on the way to the goosebumps section in our elementary school library
animorphs is a scifi series about the grey morality of war and child soldiers experiencing trauma, depression, PTSD, being frequently and brutally dismembered, disemboweled, literally tortured to the brink of death, forced to murder their own family members with their bare hands, and on page 22 of the very first book they watch the alien prince who gave them their ~wacky animal morphing powers~ scream while be eaten alive in vivid and gory detail
One dude permanently turned into a bird for a while, forgot how to make facial expressions when he was a human and ate roadkill. And that was one of the tamer things.
You know the starfish cover everyone likes to mock especially? The girl beat someone to death with her own severed arm in that one :)
What the fuck did I miss out on
(via bronzedragon)
so apparently “asexual reproduction” is no longer the preferred scientific term, so if anyone makes a sponge joke or whatever just scream “IT’S AGAMETIC KNOW YOUR SCIENCE” and throw a textbook at them
#this is pronounced ‘ay-guh-mee-tick’ because it means that an individual of a species reproduces without fusing gametes with another#it is more correct because it has nothing to do with sexuality at all#in fact at least a few species trigger reproduction by having sex (via emmalyn)
(via fireflyca)
In a better world, where bullshit gets checked:
“Ok, so you thought the boy made a bomb.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of evacuating the school, you pulled him out of class, arrested in front of everyone, then interrogated him, on the premises without getting the children to safety? So, we’re going to put you up for criminal endangerment of this entire school”
“Well, uh, maybe we didn’t really think it was a bomb”
“Oh, ok, so instead you lied to police and federal authorities in order to bring up false charges against a minor for… kicks? I mean, you’re basically picking between which charges you’d like to go up on here. Let me know, so we can get the paperwork right.”
(via adelindschade)
[ guitar thrashing in the distance ]
#sorry to interrupt your sexy fight#but the rest of the plot has arrived [tags via youkaiyume]
(via fuckyeahisawthat)
Hey
Psstt
The guy who invented the theory that vaccines cause autism had his medical license revoked for it
thats ridiculous
they took it away because he came up with a seemingly plausible theory?
They took it away because other scientists have been unable to reproduce his results, his results were made up, he didn’t even get approved by an ethics committee, and now he’s risking the health and lives of a whole bunch of people
It’s not just that he came to incorrect conclusions, he falsified data on purpose, apparently because he had patented a related medical test and stood to make a lot of money off people using his test instead of vaccinating.
It’s crazy how this one person, in a study of only twelve children, gained so much traction in the world. He put this lie out there—and it was a lie, not just interpreting data incorrectly—and now it doesn’t even matter that he’s been proven totally false. Years of effort to reestablish the truth can’t undo the lie once it’s out there in the world. Hundreds of thousands of people believe that lie, and actual children are getting sick and dying because of it.
This is a really troubling aspect of how human minds work, and it’s something conservative politicians take advantage of on a regular basis. If you just say that “well over 90% of what Planned Parenthood does“ is provide abortions, it doesn’t matter how often people recite the objective truth that abortions are a tiny fraction of Planned Parenthood services. You can say the truth 1000 times for every one time the lie is repeated, and thousands of people will still trust the lie.
I’d never heard this before, and it’s actually really helpful information to have, so thanks. Here is a scientific article by the American Academy of Pediatrics explaining the flaws in Wakefield’s research and briefly summarizing four studies that refuted the fraudulent claims. Here is an article by the editor-in-chief of the British Medical Journal calling him a fraud in no uncertain terms. Here is the first part of a nine-part investigative journalistic series, published in the BMJ, uncovering his fraud. And the General Medical Council conclusions that stripped Wakefield of his clinical credentials can be found here.
I’m honestly so mad right now reading about this guy. People are dying of measles right now because vaccinations fell off so sharply, and those deaths can be laid at the door of this man.
When the apocalypse comes, pestilence will ride wearing Wakefield’s face
(Source: cakesexuality, via lupinatic)
