BLUDCLUBRSSarchive

gotosweep:

that ‘s a comic

gotosweep:

that ‘s a comic

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bobschofield:

I remember the first time I read Marquez. It was this short story, An Old Man with Enormous Wings, sometime in high school.
I had no idea who he was. Had never heard of ‘magical realism.’ No expectations. Zero preconceptions. Back then there wasn’t all that much that excited me. I’d come to expect very little from the the Jefferson Parish public school system and its assigned reading.
But by the time I had worked my way through the ten or so pages that comprise the story, I was not the same person. I’d never seen anything like that. So much sadness and beauty and strangeness, pressed together that tightly. A little diamond of language.
It’s okay when a person dies. Yes, it’s hard, but that’s just what we do. And there’s certainly some comfort to be had when the person in question has led a long life, and achieved so much.
But there’s no good to be found in the world losing a little bit more of its magic.
That part is just the saddest fucking thing.

bobschofield:

I remember the first time I read Marquez. It was this short story, An Old Man with Enormous Wings, sometime in high school.

I had no idea who he was. Had never heard of ‘magical realism.’ No expectations. Zero preconceptions. Back then there wasn’t all that much that excited me. I’d come to expect very little from the the Jefferson Parish public school system and its assigned reading.

But by the time I had worked my way through the ten or so pages that comprise the story, I was not the same person. I’d never seen anything like that. So much sadness and beauty and strangeness, pressed together that tightly. A little diamond of language.

It’s okay when a person dies. Yes, it’s hard, but that’s just what we do. And there’s certainly some comfort to be had when the person in question has led a long life, and achieved so much.

But there’s no good to be found in the world losing a little bit more of its magic.

That part is just the saddest fucking thing.

(Source: electronochuckyoung)

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(Source: whiter-trash)

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(Source: zodiacbaby)

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(Source: flawlessirishprince)

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(Source: sadvanillaice)

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theonion:

Newly Discovered Cave Paintings Suggest Early Man Was Battling A Lot Of Inner Demons

theonion:

Newly Discovered Cave Paintings Suggest Early Man Was Battling A Lot Of Inner Demons

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theatlantic:

The Quiet Radicalism of All That

The ’90s were golden years for Nickelodeon. The children’s cable television network was home to now cult-classic shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? (1991-2000), Clarissa Explains It All (1991-’94), The Secret Life of Alex Mack (1994-’98), and Salute Your Shorts (1991-’92)—arguably heretofore unmatched in their clever, un-condescending approach to entertaining young people. Nick News with Linda Ellerbee launched in 1992, and remains to this day one of the only shows on-air devoted to frank, engaging discussions of teen issues and opinions.
But perhaps the program that best embodied the values of Nick in those years was All That, a sketch-comedy show that premiered 20 years ago today. Created by Brian Robbins and Mike Tollin, All That ran for an impressive 10 seasons before it was canceled in 2005. The prolific franchise spawned a number of spin-offs (Good Burger, Kenan & Kel, The Amanda Show) and launched the careers of several comedy mainstays: Kenan Thompson, Amanda Bynes, Nick Cannon, and Taran Killam.
Like Saturday Night Live (which would later hire Thompson and Killam), All That was a communal pop-cultural touchstone. The parents of ’90s kids had the Church Lady, “more cowbell,” and Roseanne Roseannadanna; the kids themselves, though, had Pierre Escargot, “Vital Information,” and Repairman Man Man Man, and we recited their catch-phrases to one another in the cafeteria and on the playground. Although All That was clearly designed as a SNL, Jr., of sorts, it wasn’t merely starter sketch comedy—it was an admittedly daring venture for a children’s network to embark on.
In its own right, All That was a weirdly subversive little show. It never explicitly crossed the line into “mature” territory, but it constantly flirted with the limits of FCC-approved family-friendliness. Take, for instance, the “Ask Ashley” sketch. A barely tween-aged Amanda Bynes (Seasons Three to Six), played an adorably wide-eyed video advice-columnist. Ashley (“That’s me!”) would read painfully dimwitted letters from fans with clearly solvable problems. (Example: “Dear Ashley, I live in a two-story house and my room is upstairs. Every morning, when it’s time to go to school, I jump out the window. So far I’ve broken my leg 17 times. Do you have any helpful suggestions for me?”) She would wait a beat, smile sweetly into the camera, then fly into a manic rage; emitting a stream of G-rated curses, always tantalizingly on the verge of spitting a true obscenity into the mix.
Read more. [Image: Nickelodeon]

theatlantic:

The Quiet Radicalism of All That

The ’90s were golden years for Nickelodeon. The children’s cable television network was home to now cult-classic shows like Are You Afraid of the Dark? (1991-2000), Clarissa Explains It All (1991-’94), The Secret Life of Alex Mack (1994-’98), and Salute Your Shorts (1991-’92)—arguably heretofore unmatched in their clever, un-condescending approach to entertaining young people. Nick News with Linda Ellerbee launched in 1992, and remains to this day one of the only shows on-air devoted to frank, engaging discussions of teen issues and opinions.

But perhaps the program that best embodied the values of Nick in those years was All That, a sketch-comedy show that premiered 20 years ago today. Created by Brian Robbins and Mike Tollin, All That ran for an impressive 10 seasons before it was canceled in 2005. The prolific franchise spawned a number of spin-offs (Good Burger, Kenan & Kel, The Amanda Show) and launched the careers of several comedy mainstays: Kenan Thompson, Amanda Bynes, Nick Cannon, and Taran Killam.

Like Saturday Night Live (which would later hire Thompson and Killam), All That was a communal pop-cultural touchstone. The parents of ’90s kids had the Church Lady, “more cowbell,” and Roseanne Roseannadanna; the kids themselves, though, had Pierre Escargot, “Vital Information,” and Repairman Man Man Man, and we recited their catch-phrases to one another in the cafeteria and on the playground. Although All That was clearly designed as a SNL, Jr., of sorts, it wasn’t merely starter sketch comedy—it was an admittedly daring venture for a children’s network to embark on.

In its own right, All That was a weirdly subversive little show. It never explicitly crossed the line into “mature” territory, but it constantly flirted with the limits of FCC-approved family-friendliness. Take, for instance, the “Ask Ashley” sketch. A barely tween-aged Amanda Bynes (Seasons Three to Six), played an adorably wide-eyed video advice-columnist. Ashley (“That’s me!”) would read painfully dimwitted letters from fans with clearly solvable problems. (Example: “Dear Ashley, I live in a two-story house and my room is upstairs. Every morning, when it’s time to go to school, I jump out the window. So far I’ve broken my leg 17 times. Do you have any helpful suggestions for me?”) She would wait a beat, smile sweetly into the camera, then fly into a manic rage; emitting a stream of G-rated curses, always tantalizingly on the verge of spitting a true obscenity into the mix.

Read more. [Image: Nickelodeon]

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thenameishunter:

Dollar Pizza (2013)
©2014 Hunter White

thenameishunter:

Dollar Pizza (2013)

©2014 Hunter White

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