less pure after you’ve touched her
maybe you should take a look at your hands
Hey asshole, first of all, if you somehow think all black women are the fucking same, you’re fucking racist as shit, and the fact that you think you have no control over this, or can’t at least find the basic decency to shut the fuck up and be embarrassed about this terrible part of your racist brain, that’s what makes you extra racist. Who the fuck cares if racists get defensive, they fucking should, you idiot.
Both photos are of the same girls. They just so happened to have fallen in love.
While I try not to reblog things that I’ve reblogged here before, I can’t help but do this one again. OMG THE CUTEST!
I SHOULD NOT BE ABLE TO EMOTIONALLY IDENTIFY WITH A FLOSS CONTAINER
You know I really don’t get it. These kids work so hard, and instead of praise they are left with the last few scraps of a holiday dinner.
I’ve seen them out there at 5 in the morning and 10 at night. I’ve seen them on Halloween and Memorial Day. I’ve seen them running laps around the school because some sports team took the stadium from them when it was rightfully theirs, but instead of bitching about it they said “it’s time to get stronger”.
I’ve heard them talk about themselves. They really think they’re nothing special. They have heard what we all have to say about how easy what they do is. They use to shout in protest but soon realized we had already turned around to cheer on the ball game.
They speak in this secret language of fermatas and thirty second notes and dot books and subsets, but we seem to have translated the word crescendo into ‘worthless’.
I hear the football team talk about them. ‘I can’t believe the school gives them all that money, I mean they just come to play at our games!’ and I want to scream at the top of my very lungs that they do so much more than ride a bus and perform at half-time. I wanted to smash some sense into their heads. I want for just one second for everyone to see the stigma they had created.
But I wouldn’t. Who would listen? Who would stop to hear that every summer they wake up at 4 am and work until 11 pm to perfect 12 minutes? Who would stop to care that 100 kids struggle to wear their uniforms every year because they are falling apart at the seams, but the soccer team buys new ones every year?
Why is it that when 100 kids run across a field they earn respect, but when 100 kids run across a field with metal in their hands they earn malice and laughter?
Look at them. Look how amazing they are. Look how hard they work with what little they are given. Look at how they still take pride in the broken puzzle of a program the school board dishes out to them every year.
For God’s sake, just look at them.
IM JEALOUS OF COUNTRIES THAT TEACH LANGUAGES TO CHILDREN FROM A YOUNG AGE SO BY THE TIME THEYRE LIKE 18 THEYRE BILINGUAL . IN MY ELEVEN YEARS OF AMERICAN PUBLIC SCHOOLING I CAN NAME YOU LIKE 5 COLORS IN SPANISH
Meet the Mona Lisa of the Prado, the earliest known copy of Da Vinci’s best portrait. Similarity in the undersketch of the painting indicates that this was very likely painted concurrently with the original Mona Lisa, by a student of Da Vinci.
There is much controversy in the art world over the question of whether or not to clean the fragile Mona Lisa, but her sister has been restored and some fairly odd later alterations removed to show the original vibrant colors and lighting. Some details, such as the sheerness of her shawl and the pattern on the neckline of her dress, have become utterly obscured in the original, but in the restored copy they’re perfectly clear.
It blows my mind a little bit to look at these two sisters side-by-side and imagine how much vivid detail could be hiding in the Mona Lisa under 500 years of rotten varnish.
THE COPY HAS EYEBROWS
Your response to a beautiful piece of artwork done by Leonardo Da Vinci himself is “SHES GOT EYEBROWS”. Alright. All intelligent life has been lost.
Yo Snooty McSnotwhine, the Mona Lisa’s vanished eyebrows have been the subject of debate and analysis in the art expert community for hundreds of years, long before your parents squirted water at each other from across the clown car and then honked their bicycle horns to indicate they really wanted to make a smug, insufferable little clown baby together.
this continues to be the best reply to a criticizing comment on this site