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I had a dream last night that since the boops were so successful, staff created a game called “Reverse Boop Tag” where a specific blog was “it” (marked by some symbol next to their name) and you had to find their blog and give them at least 500 boops to get the “Boop Hunter” badge.

Everyone descended on some poor user and blew up their notifs. Then the “it” blog would change every 12 hours for a few days. It was a lot of fun.

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oh, blanket of my dreams

#im loving this too

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#edna st. vincent millay #sounds about right

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reblogging for all the additions

apparently native american tribes were in contact with the donner party and offered them food when they saw the colonists were starving and the donner party turned them down and decided to go the whole “cannibalism” route instead. 

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i knew this was how zazzle worked but for several personal reasons this has me wheezing

the cat’s named, btw, is Claude

#claude monet #and he is quite the artist

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@shadow-manor there’s a thing coming up i’m going here for, if you’re ever in the Philly area this place is a must, email me & we’ll see what’s happening

#phillymoca #mausoleum of contemporary art #philly things #very goth

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mooooore, do Philly, it’s the furry-fairy-ferry sequence that absolutely destroys us

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You Are Odysseus

So

I’m a teacher of Classical Civilisation that has taught the Odyssey for over a decade and studied pretty much every myth and story with Odysseus in it.. I think

and I’m writing an Interactive Fiction (choose your own path) version of the Odyssey, inspired by the Homeric phrase “he turned his great heart this way and that”, where you are Odysseus, allowing you to follow his decisions or make your own

and it already has 400 sections to it - written to emulate modern translations of the Odyssey, including the literary features of simile, formula, epithet, and the rest - and 21 different ways to die, and quite a lot of period and theme-appropriate alternatives

(and if I get time, the option to be Telemachus or Penelope, although that might have to wait because it’s already a monster)

and I’ve tested what I’ve made so far on my pupils, other Classics teachers, and some of the leading (and best-read) Greek Mythology podcasters and YouTubers, all of whom have universally loved it (yay!)

(EDIT: Oops and I presented on it at the Classical Association conference last year)

I’m trying to finish it this summer, but need a bit of encouragement to do so

EDIT: and I forgot to say that ideally I’m planning on it being a beautiful BOOK with an old-fashioned cover and lots of ribbons to mark your place ❤️ (ex-bookseller ofc)

so, please let me know if you’d like to know more!

(EDIT: or sign up here go get notified directly when it’s ready: https://ljenkinsonbrown.wordpress.com/you-are-odysseus-signup/ )

#PET THE DOG ODYSSEUS

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Not socialist in a “I won’t have to work” type of way but socialist in a “I’ll still be working but I won’t be worried I won’t make the rent” type of way. In a “billions won’t be hoarded by one person” type of way. In a “janitors, fast-food workers, child care workers, preschool teachers, hotel clerks, personal care and home health aides, and grocery store cashiers, will live comfortably” type of way. In a “the sick and elderly will be cared for” type of way. In a “no child should work” type of way.

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I haven't been posting as much about Palestine, apparently the USA government on top of helping the genocide, is bombing stuff in Syria now?

I can't say what public opinion on this would be, but the government is designed to do this stuff completely independent of citizen's opinion, so why would I bring that up? I feel hollow, because it feels like we are powerless to stop our government, but I also feel that if we truly understood what the word "bomb" means and what a bomb does physically, the knowledge would make us completely incapacitated and unable to get up and go to work and live in the world.

But we still can live without this fact constantly crushing us...why?

The propaganda says that a military as enormous as this is needed to "protect us," but this is clearly impossible. It is enough guns and bombs to kill everything alive on Earth over and over again. What could it be protecting us from? There isn't anything on Earth that is worse than it.

I can't remember when I learned what a bomb was. I can't remember when I learned the word "war." I can't remember when I learned that "we" (USA) were "at war," dropping bombs on people to kill them. I don't think I have ever been alive at a time when we weren't—and I have to say "I don't think" because I don't know how to tell if we are at war or not, or indeed whether it is meaningfully possible for us to not be at war. This is haunting me. How did I learn what war is? How do you tell your child about war?

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oooooh, all thanks to @shadow-manor this is the best set of tags i’ve read in ages

kinda obsessed with these, clearly beginner, rings on Etsy being marketed as garnet when i'd bet money that they are glass

the metal work is. certainly better than what i've ever made, so i don't want to speak to harshly. but uh. um.

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this is extraordinarily evocative to anyone who tinkers

There is a sort of obsession among a certain kind of car owner with original parts. They want to keep the original engine, no matter how bad things get. They insist upon replacing every busted-ass interior clip, every bit of undertray, the original hood insulation, and even that annoying little spring that flew off into a workshop sometime in the 1970s.

For these folks, "numbers matching" engines are an essential requirement. Any car that's had a new engine thrown into it at the neighbourhood Goodwrench back in the 80s is an abominable, compromised car. They would never do what I do to rebuild a car. My technique is abhorrent to them. What I do is this: I visit the junkyard, find the cheapest motor I think will fit, and then bodge chunks of scrap stolen from the railroad together until it actually fits. Some days, you're lucky if I get an engine of the same make.

All this is to explain why occasionally I have a Soviet tractor engine, or an old mail-truck four-banger, or a small wad of starter motors in an elaborate belt-driven configuration, in the front end of my car. Whatever makes motive power and gets to work: I'm not too picky about "original," because original is what blew up and left the previous owner stranded. I don't owe it anything for being the first one to fuck up.

Now, sure, this does compromise the resale value of my cars a bit. Any collector is going to take a look at a 1978 Plymouth Volare with the approximate mileage of twelve moon missions on it, and decide that the 1976 Slant Six stuck into the engine bay is where all the money leaked out of it. Not at all the old "thin ice" sign that went missing from a nearby lake and is pop-riveted to the floorboard. Not the eight-track player zip-tied into the place where the passenger seat once sat. And certainly, most definitely not, the diesel locomotive turbocharger occupying most of the engine bay.

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#ICYMI

new Adult Human Sheep to accompany your Adult Human Chicken out for 2024

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new Adult Human Sheep to accompany your Adult Human Chicken out for 2024

#adult human female #gc garbage #terfs have brainworms #mangling language to own the libs #and getting yourself mangled instead