Tangentleman

A Man, divided against himself, shall not tan

When you are 13 years old,
the heat will be turned up too high
and the stars will not be in your favor.
You will hide behind a bookcase
with your family and everything left behind.
You will pour an ocean into a diary.
When they find you, you will be nothing
but a spark above a burning bush,
still, tell them
Despite everything, I really believe people are good at heart.

When you are 14,
a voice will call you to greatness.
When the doubters call you crazy, do not listen.
They don’t know the sound
of their own God’s whisper. Use your armor,
use your sword, use your two good hands.
Do not let their doubting
drown out the sound of your own heartbeat.
You are the Maid of Untamed Patriotism.
Born to lead armies into victory and unite a nation
like a broken heart.

When you are 15, you will be punished
for learning too proudly. A man
will climb onto your school bus and insist
your sisters name you enemy.
When you do not hide,
he will point his gun at your temple
and fire three times. Three years later,
in an ocean of words, with no apologies,
you will stand before the leaders of the world
and tell them your country is burning.

When you are 16 years old,
you will invent science fiction.
The story of a man named Frankenstein
and his creation. Soon after you will learn
that little girls with big ideas are more terrifying
than monsters, but don’t worry.
You will be remembered long after
they have put down their torches.

When you are 17 years old,
you will strike out Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig
one right after the other.
Men will be afraid of the lightening
in your fingertips. A few days later
you will be fired from the major leagues
because “Girls are too delicate to play baseball”

You will turn 18 with a baby on your back
leading Lewis and Clark
across North America.

You will turn 18 
and become queen of the Nile.

You will turn 18 
and bring justice to journalism.

You are now 18, standing on the precipice,
trembling before your own greatness.

This is your call to leap.

There will always being those
who say you are too young and delicate
to make anything happen for yourself.
They don’t see the part of you that smolders.
Don’t let their doubting drown out the sound
of your own heartbeat.

You are the first drop of a hurricane.
Your bravery builds beyond you. You are needed
by all the little girls still living in secret,
writing oceans made of monsters and
throwing like lightening.

You don’t need to grow up to find greatness.
You are stronger than the world has ever believed you to be.
The world laid out before you to set on fire.
All you have to do
is burn.

southerncrotch:

No, it’s my penis.


Who can own a tree? (and by ‘tree’ I mean penis)

southerncrotch:

No, it’s my penis.

Who can own a tree? (and by ‘tree’ I mean penis)

(via carlosison)

blazepress:

That Kick.

Found on a microfiche sent to Kareem Abdul Jabar in 1984

blazepress:

That Kick.

Found on a microfiche sent to Kareem Abdul Jabar in 1984

starllex:

this is my favorite post of all time

(Source: carlsagan, via robdelaney)

blazepress:

Shaolin monks training.

Training for the human slinky contest.

blazepress:

Shaolin monks training.

Training for the human slinky contest.

(via linxspiration)

blazepress:

Heart vs Brain.

Where’s the chain to my wiener?

blazepress:

Heart vs Brain.

Where’s the chain to my wiener?

(via linxspiration)

Werner Herzog explains the plot of his new movie Good Will Hunting 2: Port of Call Los Angeles

It’s how the Mongols conquered Eurasia…

(Source: oh-whiskers, via paulftompkins)

iheartchaos:

Sunday Morning Comics: How to tell an open-carry patriot from a deranged killer
Via

Wow

iheartchaos:

Sunday Morning Comics: How to tell an open-carry patriot from a deranged killer

Via

Wow

theonion:

More Corporations Using Tag And Release Programs To Study American Consumers

If someone knows how to get my Applebee’s radio collar off, I would much appreciate it

theonion:

More Corporations Using Tag And Release Programs To Study American Consumers

If someone knows how to get my Applebee’s radio collar off, I would much appreciate it

Perfect World

In a perfect world, our favorite musicians would live in castles on the tops of hills and we would all pay fealty with crops, crafts, services and virgins for the privilege of sitting in a large hall at their various feet and listening to the ecstatic strumming of a lyre or whatever. It’s not that complicated, people.