Why this relentless, irrational fear and loathing of President Obama?
Is it his deficits? No, can’t be… GW Bush inherited a surplus budget and ran up huge deficits and the Obama Haters didn’t foam at the mouth once.
Is he a danger to national security? An inept…
My breakdown of Murakami themes.
Wonder how Haruki would like this. 2% should be “tennis sneakers.”
This should so go on her OKCupid profile.
(via sadieblodgett)
(Source: upinguts)
(Source: eamcintyre, via thesoapboxschtick)
I’m working on a story that calls for a character to drink whiskey in a bar, and I keep spelling “tumbler” like “tumblr.” I’m putting these here because I have a sneaking suspicion that one day, all of us are going to forget:
Tumbler: a stemless drinking glass with a thick bottom, OR a person who…
What about “re-tweet?” Wait, that didn’t exist before?
Nov. 23, 1968: The Times wrote about the White House photographer Yoichi Robert Okamoto, right, who produced most of the 250,000 photos of President Lyndon B. Johnson housed at the time in a laboratory in Georgetown. The reporter, Nan Robertson, called the collection the “greatest album of candid pictures ever made of an American president.” She continued: “Some persons are appalled by the size and expense of Mr. Johnson’s picture operation. Others believe the price is little enough to pay for pictures that will be priceless to historians.” Photo: George Tames/The New York Times
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
When you hit adulthood, you’ll realize no one has a fucking clue what they’re doing. The disorientation that follows will be completely normal.
“I’ve met a lot of my closest friends after I turned 30, and Rashida’s certainly one of them. It’s so nice to be able to find a like-minded person who you really admire. And who’s your homie.” - Amy Poehler
Parks and Rec love!
(Source: setfiretotherain-, via sydneyleeisawesome)
