Dear Racists: I know you’re going to to be trotting this out in the next few days claiming that this shows how white people are just as badly treated as black people in the US (though, of course, the idea that “it happens all the time” to white people is, of course, a ridiculous and disgusting lie).
But guess what, fuckheads, as usual, you’re wrong as fuck. The reason this tragedy isn’t national news is because, surprise surprise, a similar (ish) shooting of a white teenager by a black cop is being handled by the authorities completely differently! That’s right, you dumbfucks, this officer is being immediately and vigorously investigated, the officer’s name was released, the victim wasn’t denied medical care, nor was his body left on the street for hours. It’s almost like we treat black and white people differently in our justice system! And if you want to argue that the fucking Salt Lake City PD (oh shit, was I able to read about this case in the NATIONAL NEWS?!?!?! ) is racist against white people, you are fucking out of your mind.
So, nice try, you asshole, I know you were salivating over finding a case to compare this to Mike Brown, but, even with this timing, you’re not even fucking close to proving your racist “point.”
Two years ago, I was performing at The Punchline in San Francisco, and Robin came to the show with our mutual friend, Dan Spencer.
This particular batch of material was the first time I had touched upon my then still-fresh divorce wounds, and big chunks of it were pretty dark. The next day, I got a text from a number I didn’t recognize. Whoever it was had obviously been to the show and knew my number, so I figured they would reveal themselves at some point and save me the embarrassment of asking who they were.
The Mystery Texter asked how I was REALLY doing. “You can’t fool me. Some of those ‘jokes’ aren’t ‘jokes.” By now I knew that whoever this was had been through what I was enduring, as no one else would know to ask, “What time of day is the hardest?”
He wanted to know how my kids were handling it, all the while assuring me that the storm, as bleak as it was, would one day pass and that I was not, as I was then convinced, a terrible father for visiting a broken home upon my children.
I am not rewriting this story in retrospect to make it dramatic. I did not know who I was texting with. Finally, my phone blipped, and I saw, in a little green square, “Okay, pal. You got my number. Call me. I’ve been there. You’re going to be okay. - Robin.”
That is what you call a human being.
Dragon Slayer Ornstein - Sakura-Con 2014
Smough is probably HELLA pissed that no one wants to cosplay as him.
Cosplayer: Needles Never Sleep
REVIEW. So good. I just watched all the episodes over the last two days and confirmed for myself that no one plays grinning misery like Andy Daly. The first season is currently on Comedy Central’s YouTube page.
I traveled down BEAUTIFUL MEMORY LANE with a friend the other day who wanted to hear my music despite me not having picked up my ukulele in months. He doesn’t know anything about Mass Effect but wanted to hear my songs anyways. I assured him that if he DID know stuff about the games, he would be thoroughly impressed by my lyrical genius.
Probably FemShep/Garrus. I mean, they’re who I have the most porn of /shrug/
I took a dumb selfie because I have gone to the gym really consistently since November and I am stupid proud of myselfie.
And now I’m putting it on tumblr instead of anywhere else because here /no one will see it/