Floustian - Michael Parenti Enthusiast - Tumblr Blog

the anesthetic apparently hasn't fully worn off yet

HELLLLLL YEAH!!!!!!!

look, the adar beat in episode 8 could have been so much tidier. Adar just kicked everyone's ass and got the stupid ring, it makes no sense that he would up and retreat to go hang out in the woods for a bit while letting glug just waltz up to sauron totally unsupervised.

it could have been very simple. adar pops on the ring in the field, gets all smooth and extra powerful, rocks up to sauron. THEN sauron could have jsut openly manipulated the orcs by suggesting that the ring and healing from his curse and getting revenge is all that adar was ever after, and that he didnt even care about them or was always planning on abandoning them once he got what he wanted.

and then maybe you could have adar retreat or go mope to galadriel once all his orcs turn on him. and maybe he'll still have some orcs in camp who can kill him caesar-style, idk.

In Defiance of Death

Hmmm i disagree with you but i could not possibly wade through the cranberry bog of my mind to verbalize why

such a profound sense of delight when I realize that a piece of media is matching my freak to the very letter. there are creators out there who are my exact kind of sicko and we are reaching out to each other as if across the cosmos.

you cant even begin poems with "i will sodomise and facef uck you" anymore. because of woke .

The Rings of Power | Season 2 | Aug 29 - Oct 3, 2024 Benjamin Walker as High King Gil-galad and Sam Hazeldine as Adar

i know the focus on the exact method of capital punishment is kind of distracting from the main point which is that the state should not have the power to kill, and that focusing on the method only in fact serves the state as it tries to convince the people that as long as the method of killing is "peaceful" and "humane" then the killing itself can be just—that only the method can be considered cruel and unusual, not the fact of capital punishment itself. but it's still just so fucking infuriating to me that the state has fumbled lethal injections so bad because they can't acquire the drugs and they can't get doctors who are willing to do it properly (rightfully so), but instead of that forcing them to stop trying to kill, they're just inventing new ways of killing people. or going back to old ways of killing people. we're doing fucking execution by gas. five executions in six days. two today in different states, including one nitrogen asphyxiation (the second ever in the US). horrific.

At the start of one of my many attempts at uni (we're no joke on number seven) I took an anthropology class because it seemed cool. This was at the absolute height of the popularity of Bones so the first lecture was literally standing room only, fire hazard levels of packed.

So the professor comes in and I cannot express enough how much this man was actually round, not tall, greying, balding, and literally wearing a three-piece tweed suit with a little red bow tie. He was the most perfect human being I've ever met.

Anyway the look on his face when he saw an actually packed lecture theatre was one of sheer unbridled glee. Natural, right? His dinky little subject is suddenly unbelievably popular.

Which gave him the perfect opportunity to talk about pissing for a solid hour. Because that was his specialist subject. Comparative urination etiquette.

This man who was the Platonic ideal of a humanities professor stood there and talked enthusiastically about piss to a packed to the rafters lecture theatre full of bright-eyed first years, and as this was a Monday morning it was almost certainly many people's first ever university lecture of their whole life. His eyes were glittering with joy the whole hour. He was having the time of his life.

There were absolutely no questions at the end of the lecture. He, apparently having fully understood what he was doing, clearly expected this and instructed us to have a lovely day and wished us good luck on our higher education journey.

You could sit anywhere you wanted in the lecture theatre the next week and the lecture was intro to methods in anthropology.

I don't think I could ever love a man more than I still love him.

Awhirl with events,                   packed with jobs one too many, the day slowly sinks                    as the night shadows fall. There are two in the room:                           I                            and Lenin— a photograph             on the whiteness of wall. The stubble slides upward                         above his lip as his mouth             jerks open in speech.                                 The  tense creases of brow               hold thought                           in their grip, immense brow              matched by thought immense. A forest of flags,                raised-up hands thick as grass... Thousands are marching                       beneath him...                                    Transported, alight with joy,                 I rise from my place, eager to see him,                hail him,                        report to him! “Comrade Lenin,                I report to you — (not a dictate of office,                      the heart’s prompting alone) This hellish work                 that we’re out to do will be done            and  is already being done. We  feed and we clothe                       and give light to the needy, the quotas          for coal                  and for iron                             fulfill, but there is            any amount                      of bleeding muck     and  rubbish                 around  us still. Without you,            there’s many                       have got out of hand, all the sparring              and  squabbling                                  does one in. There’s scum            in plenty                     hounding our land, outside the borders                   and  also                           within. Try to      count ’em               and                  tab ’em —                           it’s no go, there’s all kinds,                 and  they’re                             thick as nettles: kulaks,       red tapists,                 and,                     down the row, drunkards,          sectarians,                    lickspittles. They strut around                  proudly                         as peacocks, badges and fountain pens                         studding their chests. We’ll lick the lot of ’em—                          but                             to lick ’em is no easy job              at the very best. On snow-covered lands                      and on stubbly fields, in smoky plants               and on factory sites, with you in our hearts,                      Comrade  Lenin,                                     we  build, we  think,           we breathe,                   we  live,                           and we fight!” Awhirl with events,                   packed with jobs one too many, the day slowly sinks                     as the night shadows fall. There are two in the room:                           I                           and Lenin — a photograph             on the whiteness of wall.

Vladimir Mayakovsky, 1929

it is my hope and dream that everyone on tumblr can go outside and visit a gay bar or go to a queer event and see that our community is very beautiful and very diverse and that half the internet discourse isn’t real