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"schwer zu quantifizieren" - Evolutionsbedingt 2024. Hauptsächlich Quatsch. Gelegentlich Tatort Münster Hot Takes (also Quatsch aber auf Tatort)
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SPECIAL AGENT NICK TORRES
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you came back wrong and i am racked with guilt because i cannot bear to see you like this and i should have let you rest. i loved you so much that i defied death itself but i do not think either of us are happy
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"con artist" is maybe the profession with the biggest gap between How Cool They Are In Media and How Cool They Are In Real Life
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Poll: if your mom remarries when you’re 26 years old is that guy still your stepdad or is he just your mom’s husband.
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If I was slightly better at archery and slightly less afraid of intestinal parasites, Charlie would have been a really excellent hunting dog.
He's a Mdium-sized Rez Dog which is to say he's mostly sighthound and pointer but he's a perfectly classically shaped hunting dog. He looks like he modeled the dogs on grecian pottery or hopped out of one of those 1700's paintings of stags at bay that would hang in the smoking rooms of the guys that funded the pillaging of the Americas but I digress. Sometimes I feel bad that I can't indulge him in what he was bred to do, because he loves scent-tracking and flushing geese and he damn near got me arrested in Grand Teton National park after he chewed through his leash and went haring off after a pronghorn antelope for half a mile at roughly mach fuck before the damn thing finally crossed a river and I was able to grab Charlie because he doesn't like getting his feetsies wet.
But today, we were on a walk in the local open space on a moderately muddy trail with fresh horse tracks in it.
As in, we parked next to the horse trailer.
The horse itself is actually perfecty visible about half a mile ahead of us.
But Charlie saw the tracks and went "I'm gonna scent-track this shit. I'm gonna hunt this motherfucking ungulate down by smell alone. I am truly the Nimrod of Dogs."
Full Instinct takeover happens. Head down, nose to the ground, pulling on his martingale hard enough that I could have hooked him up to a sled, stopping and dramatically pointing at road apples and bits of nibbled grass until I acknowledge that he has Identified An Article. He is having a GREAT time doing this, so I'm just there, looking at the horse that we are slowly catching up to and going. "Yeah! You got it! Good Job!"
But I'm also walking Herschel, who is a Corgi and he loves Activities, so he sees his big brother doing this and goes "OH BOY! AN ACTIVITY!!" and is trying his darndest to copy what Charlie's doing.
Except he doesn't have a damn clue what is happening so he's slapping his livestock-bullying instincts on these horse tracks as hard as he can and just. Barking at horse shit to alert me to it's existence. Stalk-posing at the gras Charlie is pointing at, in case it jumps up and tries to run off. I think he thought perhaps they were herding an Invisible Cow and BY GOD it wasn't gonna run lose on his watch. Wherever it was.
Eventually, we get to about 100 feet behind the horse, which is an older Pinto out for a nice stroll and some fresh air and at this distance, Charlie decides that we're probably close enough for my dumb, relatively sensorily deprived human ass to see the horse, but just to make sure, he POINTS.
He's so fucking good at pointing. Perfectly still. Perfectly straight back and tail. Head up and ears forward. Front paw up and at the ready. Little diamond shape of back hackles up in excitement. Determined, unblinking lazer-eyed stare at the target. He looks like a very carnivorous hood ornament, the distilled essence of Hunting Dog, in a perfect scuptural pose. It's downright artistic. Inspiring even
Herschel is DELIGHTED, because he might not understand scent-tracking but he DID learn how to Point from Charlie and copies his pose exactly.
It has almost exactly the opposite emotional effect.
A Pointing Corgi is the most canine clownshoes nonsense possible. Herschel's pose is flawless of course, he learned from the Master, but the perfectly straight back looks funny as hell with a perfectly straight nub of a tail. His head is up and his gaze is locked but instead of predatory intent his face is EXTREMELY excited about this new Giant Friend and thier giant ankles he can barely wait to launch himself at and his face is about 80% Big Dumb Corgi Grin. Instead of Charlie's minute, even delicate hackles, Herschel has a full-body length doggy mowhawk, which is a good three inches long at the peaks over his shoulders and hips, ruining the sleek image and making him look like he just came out of the dryer and is still full of static electricity.
And, of course.
The Paw.
The Front Paw is up and at the ready- he and Charlie are both right-pawed apparently- and on his little stubby Corgi legs it looks like a toddler trying to use a smartphone. He thinks he's doing exactly what the Big Dogs do, but he only has these tiny feets.
Anyway, that's how they made a Jogger laugh so hard she ran into a garbage can.
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mom was describing a tattoo a girl once took her to a back bedroom to show her, which was a fishing pole low on her pelvis with a line and hook that descended into her bush where a small clownfish hid amongst the hair. and that’s just. that’s a goal. and the ultimate freedom from obligation, like “gah I would shave but it would ruin my very good joke, what are you gonna do, I gotta make sure there’s foliage for my little clownfish to hide in”
then mom finished telling me this and looked off for a moment. “my god,” she said. “she was flirting with me. fuck. goddamn it.”
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i found the tenth circle of hell: it's where your fave blows up on tiktok
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Hi Tumblr! It’s been [redacted] years that I haven’t posted something, which is rather silly actually. Fixing that.
Anyway, here’s Harrowhark Nonagesimus from The Locked Tomb series! :) Enjoy!
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from "gender outlaws: the next generation"
image transcript:
Let me break it down this way: some lesbians and gays feel that their issues are more important than transgender issues, because transgender people are freaks. Some transgender people—often, but not only, transsexuals—view transsexual issues as more important than the issues of, say, cross-dressers. Some among the more genderqueer portions of our community look down upon those who opt to live in a more “normatively gendered” space. There are even groups that cross-dressers feel superior to: sissies, drag kings and queens, “little girls,” and so on. Yes, I’m sure that we could follow even each of these groups and find that, eventually, everyone has someone they view as a freak.
This is a human phenomenon, and one which occurs especially, it seems, among marginalized groups. Trekkers versus trekkies versus people in Klingon costumes, or furries versus fursuiters versus, oh, plushies. I’m sure if I looked at model railroaders, I’d probably find that HO gauge fans look down at N scale, or something like that. The taxonomies are endless, often circular, and are usually graded to a fineness that would be invisible to any outsider. We just want to identify the “real” freaks, so we can feel closer to normal. In reality, not a single one of us is so magically normative as to claim the right to separate out the freaks from everyone else. We are all freaks to someone. Maybe even—if we’re honest—to ourselves.
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when in fics they say two characters gave each other a look this is always what i envision in my head
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Every time I remember that Pyrrha has never seen Palamedes’s face I suddenly want to jump into a trash compactor.
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Honeytraps do not work on French spies because their wives are used to them having affairs, a television documentary about France’s equivalent of MI6 has revealed.
[...] The agent known only as Nicolas, whose voice and face were blurred, says: “Defectors from the Soviet Union used to talk about the ‘French paradox’, namely if you surprised a Frenchman with a mistress by telling him, we’ve caught you red-handed with a 22-year-old called Tatyana, work for us or we’ll tell your wife, it didn’t work.
“That was because he generally said: ‘Go ahead, show her, she’ll understand,’ or ‘she already knows about it’.”
(x)
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hey
hey friend
dont kill yourself tonight ok
you have a really pretty smile and i know its not always easy to manage one but itd be a bummer if we never had the chance to see it ever again
youre really important and you matter a lot so stay safe and try and have a nice sleep
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LA FUGA (1964)
dir. Paolo Spinola
Piera, a typical Italian housewife with a child and a well-off unfaithful nuclear physicist for a husband, is desperately unhappy in her marriage. Her life changes when mysterious interior decorator Luisa enters her life, bringing temptaions and dangers along with her.
(link in title)
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