(via boo-chan-deactivated20121125)

screenshotsofdespair:

via dreazil

erickimberlinbowley:

The Loneliest Whale in the World.

In 2004, The New York Times wrote an article about the loneliest whale in the world. Scientists have been tracking her since 1992 and they discovered the problem:

She isn’t like any other baleen whale. Unlike all other whales, she doesn’t have friends. She doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t belong to any tribe, pack or gang. She doesn’t have a lover. She never had one. Her songs come in groups of two to six calls, lasting for five to six seconds each. But her voice is unlike any other baleen whale. It is unique—while the rest of her kind communicate between 12 and 25hz, she sings at 52hz. You see, that’s precisely the problem. No other whales can hear her. Every one of her desperate calls to communicate remains unanswered. Each cry ignored. And, with every lonely song, she becomes sadder and more frustrated, her notes going deeper in despair as the years go by.

Just imagine that massive mammal, floating alone and singing—too big to connect with any of the beings it passes, feeling paradoxically small in the vast stretches of empty, open ocean.

I don’t think whales are capable of abstracting their loneliness. This little passage seriously anthropomorphizes an animal. “desperate calls”, “she becomes sadder and more frustrated”? What is the actual physical evidence that this is detrimental to the whale’s body? Why are we supposed to give a fuck? 

(via boo-chan-deactivated20121125)

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO 

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NQ NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

NO NO NO NO NO

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

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KANYE WEST AND KIM KARDASHIAN ARE OFFICIALLY AN ITEM

It was inevitable. I’ve seen it happen before to friends, but even though it’s just the natural course of events in a relationship, when it happens to you, it feels so specific. 

So, Brent and Nia is no longer a thing. I knew he was going to leave me, and it’s not like I expected us to last forever-we weren’t even engaged-but what kind of replacement is Stephen supposed to be? How will I learn to live without Brent’s beautiful afro when all I have to look forward to is Stephen’s skanky pencil beard?

Stephen hasn’t even made a single fashion faux-pas in the ten minutes we’ve been dating. Brent used to surprise me every day with the unexpected opportunities he took to dress in tube socks and cargo shorts and just generally present himself as a dweeb. Stephen has a cool job. He’s a tattoo artist. His tattoos have stories and shit. Brent was a CGI artist. You know how chicks in video games have massive tits? Brent. 

Brent introduced Stephen as “the better version” of himself, but all I see when I look at Stephen is a polished turd. At least Brent had some character.

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Plus, I’m rapidly approaching the maximum It Girl level, so Stephen might be the highest level upgrade I can get. Darn it all to Hades.