Reblog if talking to strangers on the internet has helped you meet awesome people who add positively to your life.
(Source: ceasesilence, via inflatedmoose)
Go Mega or Go Home
8thday ofMayin the year2012
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23rdday ofAprilin the year2012
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I love abandoned places where nature is taking over again. It always makes me think about how the world would be fine if the human race was all of a sudden obliterated - things would go back to normal, it would be one giant jungle of cities covered in nature again. Also reminds me of Castle in the Sky, the 1986 movie by Hayao Miyazaki.
(via sassyfactory)
18thday ofAprilin the year2012
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Edward Mordake was reportedly the 19th century heir to an English peerage. He supposedly had an extra face on the back of his head, which could neither eat nor speak, although it could laugh and cry. Edward begged doctors to have his “demon head” removed, because, supposedly, it whispered satanist language to him at night, but no doctor would attempt it. He committed suicide at the age of 23.
Mordrake is featured on a list of 10 People With Extra Limbs or Digits in The Book of Lists edition of 1976.
It is difficult to establish the facts behind Edward Mordake’s condition due to the lack of reliable medical records. Not even his date of birth and death are recorded and there are conflicting accounts regarding his suicide, as well as placement and position of his extra face. Much of what is known is based on oral retelling.
The 1896 text Anomolies and Curiosities of Medicine mentions a version of the story and Edward has not been featured in many texts, plays, and songs. However, the tale was considered false for quite some time. It was simply too fantastic to believe and, obviously, many parts of the story simply do not make medical sense – years of retelling warped what was likely a very real occurrence.
(via sassyfactory)
6thday ofAprilin the year2012
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Archean… Who is naked.
Poor zombies never stood a chance!damn, i only have books. Time to sit it out.
…a Starbucks barista? Um, I might be in trouble.
A claymore and a pistol, their respective belts tangled together. Interesting…
5thday ofAprilin the year2012
4thday ofAprilin the year2012
29thday ofMarchin the year2012
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Forgetting The Past
In the Balkan Mountain range in Bulgaria lies a frozen monument to communism, the Buzludzha, this flying saucer-like secret supervillain lair stands 70 metre tall and took 7 years to construct by 6,000 workers. Photographer slash explorer Timothy Allen took a flyby before stepping foot inside the derelict dome, left to ruin in 1989 after the revolution. The interior is full of communist mosaic frescos rising above the snow-impacted hallways. Ownership currently lies with the Bulgarian Socialist Party, who still debate over what to do with it (besides concoct world-dominating plans from within), but it’s still accessible to anybody intrepid enough!
(source: humanplanet, via: boingboing)
(via captainlongcat)
27thday ofMarchin the year2012
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Pete.
Pete pondered as the last of his sanguine blood was pouring from the many holes in his body. Not the natural holes, mind you, although there were plenty of fluids coming from those as he hacked and choked on himself. The troublesome holes were rather new, coming from several 9 millimeter slugs compliments of an overzealous policeman. It wasn’t much consolation that the cop had hit Pete’s assailant as well, for most of the shots had gone through Pete to hit the hostage-taker. Ah, doesn’t matter now, Pete thought to himself.
Pete almost chuckled as he realized the irony of the circumstances, but the sharp pain of a bullet wound in the gut stops a laugh dead in its tracks. Pete was a drug dealer, although the police didn’t realize it just yet. They were worried more about arresting the other guy, the guy they meant to kill. The other guy was going to make it, although it would take the doctors an awful lot of work to keep him alive. Pete would be dead long before then. His drug dealing days were over, and a new hustler would soon take his place. Was I really that bad? Pete wondered. I mean, kids need dope too! If I didn’t get them their fix, who would? The cops had been looking for Pete for ages, but he had always stayed 2 steps ahead of them. Even at this stage of his short and terrible life, Pete was without any evidence to convict him of his misdeeds, or at least without evidence on his person, while there was pounds of cocaine at his house all ready to go in cute junior high age lunch boxes. The fuzz would find this eventually, and the story would be downplayed to avoid talking about the accidental killing even though Pete was a fiend whose deeds the papers had been discussing for months.
Maybe I had this coming… Pete figured. Maybe the news was right, and I’m just a heartless monster after all. A sociopath. Maybe this bastard that held me at knifepoint to get away from whatever the hell he did was really a good guy, and I’m the bad one. This could all be Karma shitting a career’s worth of evil on me. Ah, doesn’t matter now. Pete looked up at the sky, half hoping for an angel to take him to Heaven. Pete didn’t believe in that kind of thing, but it was a nice hope either way.
He coughed up a little more than blood this time. Felt like meat. Meat that didn’t exactly come from a taco stand, if ya catch my drift. Attempting to smile at his inner jokester, Pete realized he couldn’t move his face anymore. He realized he couldn’t feel a damn thing anymore, not even the pain. Everything got a little hazy. His bitterness returned, fighting back the regret of it all. It quickly faded again, and Pete felt the apologetic sorrow of a dying man, just a bit too late for salvation. Goddammit, sorry.
Dead.
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Art and shenanigans, pure and simple.
