Barbra Streisand, Monkey Tamer

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277k ratings

See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
thehappyvet
prideprejudce

the fact that reboots used to be like thirty or forty years apart and are now instead like 3-10 years apart is absolutely ridiculous. like are we so trapped in a capitalist hellscape that instead of us naturally cherishing a beloved piece of media like it deserves and looking forward to NEW stories with NEW universes we have to watch the same thing over and over and over again with reboot after reboot after reboot until that media has been so sucked dry that us as an audience are literally sick at the mere mention of it

jackironsides
brawltogethernow

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I’m not going to put this on the post itself, but I stared at this for like ten minutes wondering why it made my brain fritz before realizing it’s because it seems appropriate on the surface, but it’s kind of…the other way around?

Which is freaking weird given the general impressions these characters leave. If you were asked to sort them as the Emotion Boy and the Manly Man, the instinctive choice seems obvious. But their respective responses to negative emotions are, uh.

  • Jason comes back home screaming about how he was wronged while heavily armed.
  • Dick literally moves to another city/job/identity instead of talking to people. Other people are for talking about THEIR emotions! Because you’re a supportive leader/mentor/big brother figure! This is fine! *room catches on fire* This is fine!!!!

Jason: *fires a semiautomatic into the air* NOW THAT YOU HAVE LISTENED TO MY TWELVE POINT ESSAY ABOUT WHY I HAVE A GRUDGE AGAINST YOU,
Jason: I will assign you three very specific tasks to get back in my good graces.
Jason: They’re impossible. I hope you like ‘Scarborough Fair’.

Dick: *stops acting fine exactly long enough to start a fight with a scapegoat over something more justifiable than why he’s really upset, punches them until the fight artfully destroys his shirt, then goes back to repressing and working out the rage shakes on bank robbers*

(Sometimes he can cajole himself into asking for advice from dubious sources ((Bruce when he’s being written as emotionally inept; Deathstroke???; civilians with no information about his situation)), which is at least adjacent to talking about your feelings.)

In conclusion:
Alfred: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Master Dick?
Dick: No. But how are you doing, Alfred? You’ve looked tired recently.
Jason: I do.
Alfred: We know, Master Jason.
Jason: I’m mad.
Alfred, looking very tired indeed: We know, Master Jason.

brawltogethernow

#you gotta corner dick to get him to talk about his shit and even then hes shifty about it #crouching on top of the fridge w his issues behind his back going IDK. HOW SHOULD I KNOW. ITS FINE #boxes his shit up and puts it on a shelf in a mental storage closet that is literally glowing its so radioactive #black sludge leaking out under the door and shit. the elephant foot is in there (deadchannelradio)

GLORIOUS tags.

naamahdarling
hxgrl

Hi this thread is making me insane.

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hxgrl

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kaizykat

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: A tweet from Jessi Cyboid (@JessicaCyboid) with a series of DM messages from Grindr. The first tweet reads:

A guy on Grindr I've spoken to a few times is currently telling me the wildest fucking story and I'm fairly sure the man is cursed.

The DM messages read:

Guy: So

A couple of weeks ago, a gift arrived on my doorstep. It was a melon, in a bag, with a face scored into it. It had kind of a knowing smile, not unlike that of the Mona Lisa.

I ran through the list of possible people that might have done it, and came up entirely empty handed. So I made it a small pedestal and there it sat for a couple of days, in the corner of my room, implying lurid hidden knowledge behind its juicy smirk.

Eventually I could take it no more and sought to see the melon destroyed. I bought one hundred elastic bands online and waited patiently by the door until the morning. Then I took the melon into the garden, and over the course of a half hour, set to work applying the pressure.

Not even a watermelon. A yellow melon, which means everyone who sees it accidentally calls it a lemon.

Like it has an area of effect psychic damage.

I found to my dismay that the melon would not give up its secrets and additionally discovered my 100-pack contained only 83 bands. This was enough to have the melon on the cusp of exploding, but we were shy the ten or so that would have sealed its fate.

Accordingly, I took up my housemate's sword, which is mother gave him for some reason and which he kept for some other reason. Melon annihilated with a coup de grace, I thought our fruity buffoonery had arrive at an end.

And it had.

Until another melon appeared.

Jessi: WHAT DO YOU MEAN

ANOTHER MELON

Guy: A secondary melon found itself on our doorstep, two weeks after the first.

Jessi: Melon delivery man innit

Simple as

Guy: It had a face like a Halloween pumpkin attempting to go UwU, and had two peculiar markings on its back.

Inside the bag was also a folded piece of paper.

Would you like to see what was on the paper?

Jessi: Yes

Are you cursed

Guy: [IMAGE OF A PIECE OF PAPER WITH AN ENCODED MESSAGE WRITTEN ON IT IN CYPHER.]

Jessi: What in the fuck

You are cursed

Guy: We had a melon code.

It took an hour but it got decoded.

The broad strokes are as follows: we are to enjoy this tasty gift, we are to remember to smile and be warm, they will be watching, and they will try and make a better face next time.

It was signed with a unique character that, as far as we can work out, might mean M8 or could be a few other alphanumeric combinations.

Extrapolating from the code, we found that the symbols on the melon translated to XX; the prior melon had three Xs in standard Roman script on its back, now contextualised as more than practice cuts.

Jessi: I am

Baffled by what the fuck is going on here.

Guy: Now it continues to sit, taunting us with its bruising cutesy mug. But not for long. For yesterday I collected fifteen feet of bungee cord.

I don't know what this melon plans to do

But if it's anything other than "get fired at 50 mph into a tree", it's got another thing coming.

I'm already expecting a third one to appear. I've already bookmarked crafting wood, gorilla glue, and an office supply replacement paper cutter to construct a one third scale guillotine to dispatch that one.

When I unpacked the letter I did almost have an aneurysm because, although it appears this code is seemingly entirely original with no precursor online anywhere, I did recognise one character.

Jessi: Oh?

Guy: Every letter was based on modifications made to a + sign. "A" had a circle on the top, "E" on the right spoke, and so on clockwise.

Leaving "U" to be a circle in the centre of the cross.

Which, by what I really do hope is coincidence, I instantly identified as the symbol with which the actual literal Zodiac signed his letters.

Jessi: Are you not actually scared them because

That's some fucked behaviour if it's a neighbour or something.

Guy: Oh, Jessi, you ignorant slut. I'm contemplating building a guillotine for fruit. I walked five miles in the freezing rain to collect bungee cords. I'm not the one who should be afraid, here.

The melon is.

[IMAGE OF A YELLOW MELLON SITTING ON TOP OF SOMETHING CYLINDRICAL HOLDING IT UP. IT HAS A CLOSED EYE SMILING FACE CARVED INTO IT.]

Guy: This was the first melon when it arrived.

[IMAGE OF ANOTHER YELLOW MELLON SITTING ON SOMETHING CYLINDRICAL HOLDING IT UP. IT HAS A UwU FACE CARVED INTO IT. IN THE BACKGROUND ARE MULTIPLE BUNGEE CORDS.]

An additional wrinkle I just realised I never clarified:

With the cipher letter, the last two sets of symbols were very very similar, making RSTV and WXYZ hard to tell apart.

XYZ were few and far between, however, so we didn't notice the minor difference (one subsection being a diagonal up line rather than a diagonal down).

Unfortunately this had the overall effect of making us believe the entire note was written with Ws for Rs to go with the UwU face.

And let me tell you. "Hello fwiend. Wemembew to smile", when decrypted, is a sight that makes you want to walk, placid and serene, into the ocean, never to return.]

odin-n-out
energyprison

Golf is an extremely effeminate game. Its a non-contact low-exertion activity played on a perfectly manicured little picnic lawn and between individual actions you sit in a dainty car and get driven to the next spot so you arent blemished by the act of walking under the sun. If elderly men ever realized this it would be cataclysmic

energyprison

You dont even have to drive the little cart or handle the clubs yourself you can go to the front desk hire one of their eunuchs to do it all for you

bowtochris

Are .... are the caddies normally eunuchs?

theblehthatbloos

Are... Are yours not?