Depression Part 2 by Hyperbole and a Half is the most important thing you’ll read all day.
Allie Brosh says what so many are trying so hard to say. She explains what so many others are trying to understand. Everybody should read this.
Dear every manufacturer of women’s clothing, ever:
Faux pockets are an abomination. If you’re going to bother putting pocket flaps on something, add the G-d damn pockets.
No love,
Jilli
And make the pockets deeper, you soulless bastards.
You know what’s attractive?
Not this:
EVERYONE REBLOG THIS
On average, men’s pants have about 6 inch deep pockets.
IT’S 2013 AND WE STILL DON’T HAVE PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY
PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY!!!
YES! PANTS POCKETS EQUALITY!!!!
TUCSON, AZ — Well… I was scheduled to be euthanized last night but guess who’s still here today! PACC loves me and has extended my time till 7 pm 1/25 Phew, talk about a lucky break. I still need to be rescued immediately. I am a GREAT guy! I loved to wait to get…
GUYS. THIS IS FUCKING SERIOUS.
My little brother is missing. His name is Keary Johnson. He’s 14 years old. He was last seen getting off the bus in front of our house in Castleton, Vermont… 4 hours ago. He’s autistic. Not severely, but it’s important to note here. His stuff isn’t at the house, meaning he never made it there. No one saw him go anywhere but walk up to our house.
Guys, I don’t care where you live… please PLEASE fucking signal boost this. I live 1,200 miles away and I feel so utterly helpless but I DO have 4,000 followers and I want to know that my little brother is found ASAP. Please guys I’m fucking begging you PLEASE. Castleton is very close to the New York border and only an hour from Massachusetts and New Hampshire, god forbid he was abducted he could be in either of those directions. So please, please please reblog and spread the word.
I’m sorry I don’t have a better picture of him.
Signal boost to everyone in Castleton
Can’t stop the signal.
The Bravest Thing
Marian Call’s ninth Adventure Quest Challenge seems simple: take a few moments to “make poetry.” Hit pause on your life. Think for a brief spell. The requested topic was “the bravest thing.” I read that and a thought struck me. I mentally ran off and scribbled down a few lines. Then I spent the next several hours questioning if I had the right answer. How can I qualify “the bravest thing” when there are so many brands of courage? Who am I to decide? Besides, it not like I can write anyway…
I claimed, for the record, that I wrote a poem for the challenge, but hadn’t the courage or conviction to post it. It was suggested to me that the bravest thing then may be to post it. I probably only have the guts to post this because it’s very late, but here it is, rough and questionable as it is:
A great ‘X’ upon her chest
The skin pulled back and pinned.
She’s sliced through muscle
And removed bone
All barriers to her heart have been cleared.
She loves purely and freely
Despite the history of pain.
No matter how many times it’s been abused,
She never shields her heart.
She loves recklessly,
Striving for more than mere existence,
Looking to Live with Love.
It may be the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.
(Is that even technically a poem? Does it matter?)
And as it flew, the big plane whispered to the space shuttle, ‘Please. I’ll never go there. What was it like? Tell me.’
“
| — | Marian Call (x) |
This, ladies and gentlemen, is what you get when you stand up to a man who beats his young girlfriend in public. Not the black eye, not the broken nose, but the sense of being a fucking great human being.
Earlier today while I was waiting for the bus I witnessed a man walk up to his girlfriend, who couldn’t have been older than 18, kick her handbag, spit on her and scream in her face that she was a cunt. He walked back into the bus shelter after telling her she was worthless and pathetic and kicking her in the gut then as she tried to follow he turned around to grab her. I got in between them and told him that he should never EVER spit on a woman, hit her or talk to her in that way. He laughed in my face and said he would “fuck me up”. I looked him square in the eye and told him that I was not afraid of him. He proceeded to scream obscenities at her as I took her away from him, then he shouted to me that he could walk round the corner to get people to kill me. Feeling defiant, I said “go on, I dare you, there’re plenty of people around to witness it.” The prick then walked right up to me and head butted me in the nose. I am now sporting a swollen face and the beginnings of a black eye but the police took swabs from my nose to get his DNA and they know exactly who he is. Cunt’s going down for assault. Motherfuckers don’t treat women like that and get away with it. I feel heroic.
Bad fucking ass. You should feel heroic; that’s how you’re supposed to feel after doing heroic things.
You done good, kid. There aren’t adequate words to properly express that. Thank you.
I never reblog things, but this? this is worth it. Welcome to the way the world should be.
This is the world I want to live in. Who’s with me?
I found the owner.
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If you want to know what the definition of “wonderful” is, watch this video.
But make sure you’ve seen Parts 1 and 2 first.
My friend Todd found some undeveloped film during the New York City blizzard a few months ago and set out to find its owners. Along the way, he made one of my favorite things in recent memory. These short films are funny, sweet, original, and incredibly inspiring.
Thanks for making these, Todd.
