uh so i never do this but maui is quite literally on fire and there isn't nearly enough care or consideration for. you know. Native Hawaiians who live here being displaced and the land (and cultural relevance) that's being eaten up by the fire. so if ya'll wanna help, here's some links:
maui food bank: https://mauifoodbank.org/
maui humane society: https://www.mauihumanesociety.org/
center for native hawaiian advancement: https://www.memberplanet.com/campaign/cnhamembers/kakoomaui
hawai'i red cross: https://www.redcross.org/local/hawaii/ways-to-donate.html
please reblog and spread the word if you can't donate.
Just learning about this (!), and reblogging for visibility.
Also sending worried love to all my friends and all the people I don't know in Maui.
i desperately need like a canopy bed or a tent bed or an in-wall bed or something i need to be tucked in i need to be protected from the elements i need to be in a little hole in a den in a nest im just a prey animal trying to get by
do you get it or do you not know anything
call out post now
Is Chris Evans Steve Rogers or is Steve Rogers Chris Evans?
good
“Fellas, is it gay to be a good father?”
Shout out to Harry Hill
I think Piers is somewhat of a national laughing stock by now
if I don’t reblog a good burn on piers morgan, assume I’m dead
The logic of “Brands will only hop on the train if they can prove it’s profitable” makes it so much funnier when they clown on this fool. “Yeah we crunched the numbers and we found it to be profitable to call this clown out in public. Jacob hit the post button.”
it's rotten work, but without the rot nothing can grow
it's rotten work but decay is part of the cycle of death and rebirth
All the dead things: Its rotten work
The mushroom internet: Not to mycelium. Not if its you
A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?”
The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound.
The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way.
Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery.
The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier.
The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.”
The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?”
The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.”
The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.”
The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.”
The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.”
The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?”
The monks give him the key, and he opens the door.
Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone.
The man demands the key to the stone door.
The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby.
He demands another key from the monks, who provide it.
Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire.
So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst.
Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.”
The man is relieved to no end.
He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound.
But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk
BWAHAHAHAHAH.
the way i learned this, it was always told through spoken word. And you’d do the door thing for ages. AGES. literally just making up any old material. ‘behind the foam door is a door made of spinach’ that kind of shit. Go on until whoever is listening has already begged you to stop and has now gone on to pleading, clutching your shirt on their knees pleading. And when you finally said the last line? People went fucking nuts Like there was a good chance of just getting the teeth knocked out of you after telling that joke.
A friend of mine did that shit for 30 minutes on a camp once. The entire fucking bus just exploded in anger when she finished. It was a fucking massacre.
I am consuming a media and you are going to hear about it
and the thrilling sequel: i consumed a media months ago and you are still hearing about it
and the cautionary conclusion: the media has consumed me