(Source: fandomaddict, via dprobeats)

11 notes

the-final-sentence:

Final sentences:

"Okay, baby, hold tight," said Zaphod, "We’ll take a quick bite at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe."

from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy

He put on a little light music instead.

from Mostly Harmless

There was a point to this story, but it has temporarily escaped the chronicler’s mind.

from So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish

He also heard the official from the Safety and Civil Reassurance Administration issue instructions that the planet in ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha must be made ‘perfectly safe.’

from “Young Zaphod Plays It Safe” in The Utterly Utterly Merry Comic Relief Christmas Book

724 notes

(Source: joedangerjonas, via communitythings)

2,296 notes

"If I had to choose a religion, the sun as the universal giver of life would be my god."

-Napoleon Bonaparte

What a strange little genius.

(via bythegods)

395 notes

perspicacityatwork:

thefinalmanifesto:

itsfondue:

Isn’t it nice how people twist their religious scripture to suit their weds but when it’s used against them it’s suddenly not okay

crippledcuriosity:

I talked to a monk about this quote once (we have mutual friends, and he came to a New Year’s Eve party at my shared art studio). He said this isn’t even talking about homosexuality. That the bible never actually says homosexuality is wrong. What that passage means is this:

Women were treated as subservient and it that you shouldn’t treat other men as subservient, like they are beneath you. It is not talking about homosexuality. If it was, it would say it outright since the bible lists other things outright.

I take the word of a monk who have studied the bible extensively more than a self proclaimed Christian.

theguilteaparty:

The above text, I would like to point out is from the point of view of this translation of the original Hebrew. I spoke with my cousin’s rabbi on the matter and his response was different, saying that it was a mistranslation. See, the true translation says that a man shall not lie with another in the bed of a woman, which is to say, the Hebrews had a shit ton of rules about when a man was or was not allowed in a woman’s bed and private quarters (including, if she didn’t want you there, you weren’t allowed there. Hebrew women were also allowed to divorce their husbands and the image of the ‘oppressive Hebrew people’ is an image that was propogated by Christianity which, historically speaking, doesn’t treat the Jewish people too well and liked to paint them as being rather barbaric and backwards and cultish with their traditions, which, another piece of fun info, their traditions were one of the main reasons why the Jewish people were less likely, in medieval times, to die of the plague. Because washing your hands and avoiding the dead and vermin and the like was a lot of help. Of course the Christians persecuted them for not dying but that’s another matter. I’m sidetracked). So the verse is literally saying ‘Don’t fuck in some lady’s bed because that’s just goddamn rude’

Also, whenever a Christian brings the book of Leviticus up, you should feel free to point out that these are rules that were given to make the Hebrew people prepared for when the son of God came to earth. In Christianity, it’s believed the son of God was Jesus. So by following the rules set in Leviticus or pushing them as things we should follow, they’re saying that Jesus was not the son of God, and that Jesus did not, in fact, die for our sins. Jewish people believe, in their faith, that the son of God hasn’t yet been born, so many choose to follow these rules.

Most people of course roll their eyes when I explain the translation of the verse (full breakdown found here) but it’s always fun to point out the nature of the rules in Leviticus and the implications of following them.

linzthenerd:

I’m a theology student and I am on the verge of crying because of how accurate this commentary is. Historical context is simultaneously the most interesting and most important part of interpreting any texts. 

zorobro:

Most religious people seem to base their beliefs on things that are severely mistranslated. I wish they would do their research before using the bible for hate.

shota-purinsu:

I studied theology extensively and was going to become a theologist until I switched majors. The above commentary is 100% accurate and what I try to stress in a lot if conversations with Bible Thumpers.

Jesus also affirms the homosexual relationship between the Roman Centurion and his “slave”. The particular Greek word used to refer to this special slave was “pais”. Greek language studies and contexts show that a “pais” was a male love slave. Regular slaves were called “dolos”. The Centurion makes this distinction clearly when he asks Jesus to heal his slave (pais), and then to prove his status he tells Jesus that his slaves (dolos) go when he tells them to. But this slave (pais) was special. He was the Centurion’s lover.

Hearing this, Jesus was so amazed he says he had not found ANYONE ELSE who had such great faith. He then blesses the Centurion and heals his male lover.

Matthew 8:5-13

THIS IS WHAT THE BIBLE REALLY TEACHES ABOUT SAME SEX COUPLES.

In short, the English adaptation is a mistranslated farce.

stovestalker:

EXCUSE ME WHILE I REBLOG THIS FIFTY MILLION TIMES

SO MUCH THEOLOGY! SO MUCH! SMART PEOPLE WHO KNOW THINGS ARE THE BEST PEOPLE!

SO MUCH SMART

(Source: idiotsonfb, via bythegods)

440,965 notes

brightwalldarkroom:

“My original take on this scene was a loud, late night pronouncement from Lester Bangs. A call to arms. In Phil’s hands it became something different. A scene about quiet truths shared between two guys, both at the crossroads, both hurting, and both up too late. It became the soul of the movie. In between takes, Hoffman spoke to no one. He listened only to his headset, only to the words of Lester himself.  (His Walkman was filled with rare Lester interviews.) When the scene was over, I realized that Hoffman had pulled off a magic trick. He’d leapt over the words and the script, and gone hunting for the soul and compassion of the private Lester, the one only a few of us had ever met. Suddenly the portrait was complete. The crew and I will always be grateful for that front row seat to his genius.”
—writer/director Cameron Crowe, on working with Philip Seymour Hoffman on Almost Famous

brightwalldarkroom:

My original take on this scene was a loud, late night pronouncement from Lester Bangs. A call to arms. In Phil’s hands it became something different. A scene about quiet truths shared between two guys, both at the crossroads, both hurting, and both up too late. It became the soul of the movie. In between takes, Hoffman spoke to no one. He listened only to his headset, only to the words of Lester himself.  (His Walkman was filled with rare Lester interviews.) When the scene was over, I realized that Hoffman had pulled off a magic trick. He’d leapt over the words and the script, and gone hunting for the soul and compassion of the private Lester, the one only a few of us had ever met. Suddenly the portrait was complete. The crew and I will always be grateful for that front row seat to his genius.”

—writer/director Cameron Crowe, on working with Philip Seymour Hoffman on Almost Famous

204 notes

brightwalldarkroom:

The Tortured Artist
by Matt Brennan
Where there is light there must be shadow.
So it is in Capote at the moment Nelle Harper Lee emerges from the flashbulbs of adulation to find her friend Truman curled up with a martini in the dim and empty bar. It is the New York premiere of To Kill a Mockingbird, and at first blush the scene appears but a sorrow song of professional jealousy, the underappreciated writer tying one on with ribbons of bitterness and cigarette smoke and gin. But pay close enough heed to the layered depths Philip Seymour Hoffman sounds in Truman Capote and suddenly this forthright kind of sadness fades as though a spotted forgery, revealing the real work behind it to be far more profound, and more terrifying.
"How are you?" she asks, delicately.
"Terrible," he replies, words cottoned by liquor.
"I’m sorry to hear that."
"I mean, it’s torture the way — what they’re doing to me."
There’s so much texture to the surface of what Hoffman achieves in Capote — the woodwind voice lofted above the din, the open gestures worn like armor — that it becomes easy to misunderstand the performance as primarily physical. In point of fact the moment in the scene that still rattles in my heart is as still as fallen snow, Truman staring after Nelle’s departure into some great, dark chasm, mulling the pronoun uncoupled from its antecedent. As Joan Didion wrote of the same city in the same year, it seems he is “discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it.” Hoffman’s Capote is a masterly portrait in light and shadow, in the irrevocability of things, in the understanding that even when we are writing about someone else we are writing, at some level, about ourselves.
What does it mean to create, and what, ultimately, does it cost?  
For Truman Capote the cost of creation was everything — all of it — because the tortures he bore, as Hoffman’s brilliant turn so gracefully captures, derived not from bitterness or narcissism or even monstrous ambition but from the intimation that expressing the full complement of human frailty requires you at some point to absorb it. Where there is light there must be shadow is merely a cliché, but it is only now that I realize just how great and dark the truth in it happens to be.

brightwalldarkroom:

The Tortured Artist

by Matt Brennan

Where there is light there must be shadow.

So it is in Capote at the moment Nelle Harper Lee emerges from the flashbulbs of adulation to find her friend Truman curled up with a martini in the dim and empty bar. It is the New York premiere of To Kill a Mockingbird, and at first blush the scene appears but a sorrow song of professional jealousy, the underappreciated writer tying one on with ribbons of bitterness and cigarette smoke and gin. But pay close enough heed to the layered depths Philip Seymour Hoffman sounds in Truman Capote and suddenly this forthright kind of sadness fades as though a spotted forgery, revealing the real work behind it to be far more profound, and more terrifying.

"How are you?" she asks, delicately.

"Terrible," he replies, words cottoned by liquor.

"I’m sorry to hear that."

"I mean, it’s torture the way — what they’re doing to me."

There’s so much texture to the surface of what Hoffman achieves in Capote — the woodwind voice lofted above the din, the open gestures worn like armor — that it becomes easy to misunderstand the performance as primarily physical. In point of fact the moment in the scene that still rattles in my heart is as still as fallen snow, Truman staring after Nelle’s departure into some great, dark chasm, mulling the pronoun uncoupled from its antecedent. As Joan Didion wrote of the same city in the same year, it seems he is “discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in fact irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it.” Hoffman’s Capote is a masterly portrait in light and shadow, in the irrevocability of things, in the understanding that even when we are writing about someone else we are writing, at some level, about ourselves.

What does it mean to create, and what, ultimately, does it cost?  

For Truman Capote the cost of creation was everything — all of it — because the tortures he bore, as Hoffman’s brilliant turn so gracefully captures, derived not from bitterness or narcissism or even monstrous ambition but from the intimation that expressing the full complement of human frailty requires you at some point to absorb it. Where there is light there must be shadow is merely a cliché, but it is only now that I realize just how great and dark the truth in it happens to be.


99 notes

thebrockway:

kathythewriter:

I can’t think of anything funny to say, which means no one is paying attention to me, which means I might as well die.

*dies*

…did that work? Are you paying attention to me now?

You have stopped swimming. Now you sink to the bottom and die so that younger, stronger comedians can take your place in the breeding pool. 

24 notes

leylasaida:

mrlapadite:

The “Reflection” series of older people looking at their younger selves in mirrors.

wow. 

(via mischief-notquitemanaged)

432,207 notes

seventypercentethanol:

dancer.

seventypercentethanol:

dancer.

2,949 notes

181,283 Plays

shezowask:

lonely-little-gallifreyan-girl:

gensokyooutsider:

image

i was scared to press play because of the gif…

i was not.. and i was expecting yakkity sax.. but… this is like 200% better.

(via dampsock)

25,446 notes

popculturebrain:

'The Simpsons' pay tribute to Marcia Wallace with heartbreaking chalkboard gag | Uproxx

popculturebrain:

'The Simpsons' pay tribute to Marcia Wallace with heartbreaking chalkboard gag | Uproxx

(via actorswithactionfigures)

3,570 notes

spark-of-constellation:

There’s no knowing where we’re rowing, or which way the river’s flowing.Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a-blowing? 

spark-of-constellation:

There’s no knowing where we’re rowing, or which way the river’s flowing.
Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a-blowing? 

(Source: sanavita, via zohbugg)

2,220 notes

ceshira:

TITANS Assemble!

SO in honor of the spoopy spirit, I figured I should bring this old idea back.

And much like the old one, I’m probably going to make this into a shirt.Yay. BTW IT’S ALL TRANSPARENT.

(via zohbugg)

35,638 notes

thefinalimage:

Eastern Promises | 2007 | Dir. David Cronenberg

thefinalimage:

Eastern Promises | 2007 | Dir. David Cronenberg

116 notes