Got bored one night and made this. Yay me!
About me: Super duper girly cis gal; intersectional feminist; ally of the "sit down and listen up" variety; Wiccan; equal parts optimistic about and fed up with humanity so I mostly just blog things I find funny. Or things that are Buffy. Occasionally other shows. Always dragons.
groot is probs assumed to be male but tbh i figure groot is a lil genderless being. who needs the gender binary when you’re a celestial tree creature. riddle me that.
"Are you a boy, or a girl?"
"I am Groot."
the part where groot grabs gamora instead of quill and rocket yells LEARN GENDERS MAN just supports this
Fudge recipe on a headstone
I feel like I should make this just to be able to say a dead person taught me how to make it. Maybe I’ll do it for Halloween.
I desperately hope that she spent her entire life telling people that they could have her fudge recipe “over my dead body.”
That last comment is absolutely worth reblogging.
So why does Cracked CONSTANTLY push Feminist propaganda so hard? And let's not bullshit ourselves. You do. Just yesterday you published five articles. Two specifically referenced either Feminism or Feminist backed statistics. Conversely whenever you cover anything related to the opposition you not only mislead about their views... you straight up fucking lie about them and people let you get away with it because you're a "humor magazine". So I'm wondering why you propagandize *so hard*. Why?
Because we’re true believers!
Let me take this moment to say how Cracked could have gone another direction 7 or 8 years ago, a more Maximy, Booby Gallery of the Day direction if not for the steadfast resistance of David Wong and Jack O’Brien. I barely acknowledge the side that opposes feminism, but Wong goes out of his way to understand people who are mad at feminists, and he writes about those views with more sensitivity and understanding that I could ever muster.
To sum up: We don’t have an explicit agenda but if one comes across, It’s not one I’m ashamed of.
Kristi is a liar. I remember the meeting where the Cracked brain trust sat down and was like “From now on let’s occasionally post articles that either directly or conspiratorially tangentially support equal rights for women so we can accomplish our ultimate end goal: Hack into the penis of every man and make it a smaller penis, or a penis that is otherwise laughable for a different reason upon which we all agree. It almost sounds TOO easy,” Jack said, as he (via the mainframe) hacked a young Robert Brockway’s penis. “I think my wife deserves my respect,” the now-neutered Brockway yelped.
It is weird that we do it so constantly, when everybody knows that people only deserve equal rights and treatment between the hours of4 and 7 pm on alternate February the 29ths. At first we worried that we couldn’t cover it all with our current propaganda budget, but we were able to transfer some funding to supporting feminism from our “Don’t be an asshole” budget because it turns out they overlap completely.
Look, I get it buddy. You’re pissed off because you’ve tried to be a good person your whole life and still you feel like you’ve been consistently stripped of the things you thought were guaranteed , and now there is a whole organized movement saying you still have too much, that you, just trying to live your life, is an affront to an entire gender. That’s a shitty feeling, but here’s the thing: no one is actually trying to take anything from you. That sickening feeling you have that your being robbed of basic human rights, there are people around you in your life who are feeling a worse version of that everyday. If you don’t believe me, look at any of the secret camera videos women have taken on the street to catch the verbal abuse they suffer, listen to any of the stories of guys who touch women on crowded trains and then smile at them as they leave because they know there’s nothing she can do about it, read any of the millions of accounts from human beings about the exhausting and demoralizing abuse they put up with every day. And you might not be the guy making them feel that way, I hope you’re not, but holy shit, you can actually help. You can help other people instead of standing in their way because it feels like another inconvenience. Finally, even if the absolute worse case scenario is true: this is one big conspiracy, Cracked and feminists and a huge chunk of the Internet are villainizing men unfairly and creating a culture where you’re no longer allowed to even voice your opinions without people getting angry- even if all of that is true- isn’t that worth preventing an inarguably high percentage of sexual abuse and dangerous objectification of your daughter/ your sister/ your wife?
Not all the stabs at equality will be smart, or entirely on point or even helpful. This form of feminism is new, chillingly new for how long this shit has been going on, and not everyone is good at it yet, but holy shit, friend, how can you argue against the aim of basic respect for another human being?
Soren’s “empathy for you” is a false flag assault on your scrote size and don’t let anybody tell you different.
As Arnold points out, there is an otherwise inexplicable shift in direction in the Piccadilly line passing east out of South Kensington. “In fact,” she writes, “the tunnel curves between Knightsbridge and South Kensington stations because it was impossible to drill through the mass of skeletal remains buried in Hyde Park.” I will admit that I think she means “between Knightsbridge and Hyde Park Corner”—although there is apparently a “small plague pit dating from around 1664” beneath Knightsbridge Green—but I will defer to Arnold’s research.
But to put that another way, the ground was so solidly packed with the interlocked skeletons of 17th-century victims of the Great Plague that the Tube’s 19th-century excavation teams couldn’t even hack their way through them all. The Tube thus had to swerve to the side along a subterranean detour in order to avoid this huge congested knot of skulls, ribs, legs, and arms tangled in the soil—an artificial geology made of people, caught in the throat of greater London.