I would rather die of passion than of boredom.”
— Vincent van Gogh (via acrylicalchemy)
daily reminder to stop supporting stephen colbert
wheres the joke? wheres the joke colbert
This is the joke. The joke is that the Washington Redskins organization refuses to acknowledge that the term “Redskins” may in fact be racist, so they started an organization to provide resources to Native Americans, which completely misses the point.
Colbert’s (non-existent, btw) “Ching-Chong Ding-Dong Foundation for Sensitivity to Orientals or Whatever” is a parody of what the Redskins organization is actually doing in actual reality.
It’s lampooning actually stupid bullshit that you, for some reason, are NOT paying attention to.
That’s the joke, you humorless animals.
Why is satire so hard to understand?
Because in order to appreciate satire, we have to have at least some awareness what is happening around us.,
My father had taught me to be nice first, because you can always be mean later, but once you’ve been mean to someone, they won’t believe the nice anymore. So be nice, be nice, until it’s time to stop being nice, then destroy them.”
— Laurell K. Hamilton (via planb-becomeapirate)
I DIDN’T LEARN ABOUT THIS IN DRIVING SCHOOL
Stop says the red light, go says the green
Wait says the yellow light, twinkling in between.
KNEEL, SAYS THE DEMON LIGHT
WITH ITS EYE OF COAL
SAURON KNOWS YOUR LICENSE PLATE
AND STARES INTO YOUR SOUL
THIS IS ALWAYS FUCKING FUNNY
When you`re on your period and a guy says “PMSing are we?”
I know, right? And yeah, you are BUT I CANFIND YOU OBNOXIOUS WITHOUT PMS, OKAY???
I feel like a combo of all these pictures.
I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse.
I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem.
Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo.
When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to.
And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe.
I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy.
I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.
Tears to my eyes.
1)this is what real medicine looks like, 2) thank the powers that be that there are places like this available to women and 3) I am terrified of the day they are not.