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Anti-voting rhetoric will be the death of the left. Literally.

Not a single fucking Republican voted to protect roe. It was fucking overturned in the first place bc trump got three Supreme Court appointments.

Every fucking thing wrong in this country is almost certainly the result of Republicans being in power. In 2020, Texas cut half of the polling places in black neighborhoods, and doubled them in white ones, regardless of population. It was Republicans bitching about mail in voting, and constantly, constantly fearmonger about voter fraud. Literally, their platform is about making civil rights harder to practice.

Would you like to know why? It’s because Republican politicians know better than anyone that higher voter participation means higher republican loss.

But what do I see from the online left, champions of the oppressed?

“Voting doesn’t do anything, the parties are the same, the system is rigged, etc, etc”

Don’t sit here and tell me you give a fuck about marginalized people if you aren’t ready to march your ass to the voting booth and vote out the party actively stripping their rights away.

Protest, donate, community build, unionize, and vote, vote, vote.

By the time direct action is the only option, it will be too fucking late.

#if anyone tells you not to vote then tell them to fuck off #vote vote vote

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#queued #video #cute

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If you haven't heard about the enshittification of baseball uniforms

Okay so they're manufactured by Fanatics now, and it's not uncommon for fan replica jerseys to suck, but now the players themselves are wearing uniforms that are just as cheap. So cheap they look like bootlegs. They're flimsy and stuff that used to be actually stitched on is now just a patch or graphic

All that is bad. But there's. There's a bigger problem, with the new MLB uniforms. See if you can spot it!

#haha #queued

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They love carrots so MUCH

#queued #video #cute #omg #horseshoe crab

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I resent the inevitable consequences the second law of thermodynamics has on my tea and the entropy of the universe. It always happens too damn soon.

#oh #food #language #queued

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#wait huh #fuck zionism

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The children are learning about the US Civil War. I can’t say it’s going well. (On the bright side, they’re very clear about slavery. We’re solid on that front. It’s the actual war we’re having trouble with.)

“Ms. T, why would his parents name him that?”

I frantically flip through the possible Civil War leaders they could be referencing. “… Well, you know how Stonewall got his nickname, and we’ve talked about Tecumseh, so there’s Sherman, and -”

“No, not them.” They roll their eyes at my ignorance, then pivot back to the point at hand. “That other guy. Useless.” As this describes a number of Civil War leaders, I blink uncomprehendingly at her. “You know, Ms. T, Useless. Useless Grant.”

“Um. … Well -”

Another child raises their hand. “Ms. T, I don’t understand number three.”

Number three is a question about the Battle of Bull Run, asking for explanations about a Confederate victory despite Union advantages. “What paragraph are you looking in?” I ask in a monotone, because I’ve been fielding this question all day.

The student points at the correct paragraph, even focuses in on the quote about Jackson holding off a Union advance. “It says Jackson and the men ‘screamed like furries,’ Ms. T, but why would that help?”

I cough. I cover my mouth with both hands. “That’s ‘furies,’ sweetie,” I inform them, still wheezing. “Like they’re insane with anger,” I elaborate, deciding to skip describing actual furies at this point in time. “Not … not like furries.”

So, here’s how the war is going, one week in: Useless Grant has been made general of the Union forces, but a bunch of furries are preventing him from gaining much ground.

#haha #FAVE

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#yeah #haha

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I finally made the meme I've had in my head for over a year

#important

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It is a little known fact that angels cannot step foot in hell.

Note: this does not mean that angels *don’t* enter the burning depths, only that they cannot touch the floor. You see, the fires that rage below are not regular fire. They do not consume fuel and oxygen and spit out heat. Instead, they chew on reality and drink down order, and the flames that lick up at you are made of chaos-filled void.

This is antithetical to the very substance of angels. If it touches them, at *best* the angels will be spat out as they are forcibly reminded that *they don’t go here*.

At medium, they will be unmade.

At worst, they will be *changed*.

You might think they could avoid this by simply flying through the pit, right? Oh, would that it were so simple. Remember the flames that burn up reality? Hell is an alchemical reaction of exploding space and logic and time and souls. You try flying through a place that is not a place, where up and down can hardly agree on which is which for more than an instant.

But there is a way around this. It was originally discovered by the guardian angel Cambiel. You see, under Cambiel’s protection was a woman named Ruth. Ruth was a shining light who Cambiel cared for greatly.

Ruth, in turn, had a woman she cared for very much. And, sadly, a demon had stolen Ruth’s love away from her.

“Do not follow her,” warned Cambiel, “for if you follow your heart through the gates of perdition, I cannot go with you.”

“Sorry, babe,” replied Ruth, “but I am *very* gay and *very* romantic and that has made me reckless.”

And Cambiel nodded sadly, for all of this was true and good.

But as Ruth walked the lonely, tortured path into the underworld, an idea occurred to Cambiel.

Sure, they couldn’t walk or fly into hell, but maybe they could *ride* there.

Now, a fully grown horse could not hope to navigate the depths beneath the world, for their sense of self-preservation was too strong. An adult horse would flee from the screams of imploding souls and the winding geometry of impossibly winding roads.

But a young horse? With a child’s innocence, with bright young eyes, who had not yet been tricked into believing in its mortality?

That was a mount that could bear an angel (who was, after all, light enough to dance on the head of a pin) into the fearful caverns of the beyond. Honestly, the little horse seemed weirdly enthused about the whole thing. 

And so did Cambiel guide a pair of reckless and romantic (and useless) lesbians out of hell.

When the pair thanked the angel, all they said was this:

“Don’t thank me, thank the little horse. It turns out … foals rush in where angels fear to tread.”

#read later

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#what the fuck

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#haha #queued

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starting a compilation of my favorite "no thank you" buttons from when they want you to subscribe so bad

#queued #haha

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watched some video about a shitty kid yesterday and caught myself thinking "my god the kids these days are out of control" and praise the Lord I immediately reflexively scolded myself like "you were exactly this stupid when you were 13, stupider probably, here's a memory of you doing and saying something so completely terrible because you were a kid and kids don't know better" you cannot let up your vigilance even for a moment, you must constantly fight against age related conservatism and never stop internally interrogating your reactions

#important #queued

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#gif #incredible #haha #queued

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->

#haha #video #crab #queued