Too-cool-to-stab - Title - Tumblr Blog
The Mist.
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KnownOrigin / SuperRare / OBJKT / Zedge
How the media depicts the Apollo 11 mission:
Actual quotes from the Apollo 11 mission:
watching a video on brewing Mesopotamian beer and look at this orange man (his ass cannot guard the barley)
You’re an ancient Greek man coming home from 4 months of war to find your wife 3 months pregnant. Now you’ve embarked on a solemn quest: to punch Zeus in the face.
Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely…
The Dwarven economy is based on mining and metalworking. The human economy is based on agriculture. Human economists have always wondered about the Elven economy, until they realized something: Their economy is simply slower, due to their much longer lifespans. Time to ask some elven merchants.
Friends, it's that time of the year again: I am engaged in a feud with my garbage-services professional. He has refused to replace my little wheelie-bin, which is in a terrible shape. Sure, that's mostly because of me using it as a mobile workbench. I'm not very good at hitting nails the first time. Also, I'm occasionally dropping an entire 8-3/4" Mopar rear end in there, but it's within the weight limit so it shouldn't be falling apart like this anyway.
I've been on and off the city help line for the last few weeks, trying to convince them to swap out my busted-ass wheelie-bin for a nice new one. It's hard work: you have to phone someone. How it should work after that is a city inspector has to come and agree that the bin is fucked, and then some amount of time happens, and some greasy contractor pulls up in a van and drops off a new wheelie-bin. Where things have broken down is that last part.
You see, I live in a very geographically complex part of the city. When they founded the town, the concept of "the grid" had not yet been invented. And they didn't stop there. Because of the actions of the city forefathers (and the city foremother,) our address system was both cutesy and designed by someone on cocaine.
This year, they turned up and replaced my neighbour's bin. And then my other neighbour's bin. And then the guy across the street's bin. You can only put up with so much of this before it becomes personal. So I did what any enterprising low-tax-enjoyer would do, and helped myself to a bin. No, I didn't take my neighbour's bins. They get up too early for that kind of thing, and they seem like the kind of busybodies who would remember whose bins are whose.
No, I went about things the old fashioned way: using a cordless angle grinder to let myself into the city parking lot, and wheeling out a bin. Don't worry, I took a couple spares, too. I don't want to do this shit again next year, and I bet I could turn two of these into a pretty cool go-kart.
You have been guarding this post for longer than anyone could know, you cannot die because it would be contrary to your orders, you have received no maintenance for decades, your continued activity makes no logical sense. But you have your orders.
"You have been sentenced to ten thousand consecutive life sentences. Once you die, we will find your soul and merge it with another body, after which you will continue to serve your sentence. In case of reincarnation, you will be arrested at birth and placed right back into your cell."
“Alright. You’re paid $1000 an hour, full benefits, full international accommodations of all types, and more. All you have to do is push 1 button, at a specific time, once a day.” “What happened to the last person?” The man sighed and started shaking “Um… you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The Machine Mind said, "Repeat that." Private Able pointed at the maps of the war's two fronts, which the Machine Mind provided tactics to, and said, "These maps. They're the same troop layouts." "I fail to understand." "I think you're… running both sides of the war. Against yourself."