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christiannightmares:

'Stairway to Heaven' played forward reveals the backward nature of these televangelists and it's hilarious (Found at Dangerous Minds; For the original video, click here http://christiannightmares.tumblr.com/post/80494843070/paul-crouch-jr-son-of-televangelists-paul-and-jan)

and it makes me wonder

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ronaldcmerchant:

poster for a Bernie Wrightson art show-1977

58th & Lexington
it’s “The Container Store” now

(source of second image: http://fantasy-ink.blogspot.com/2009/04/new-york-comic-arts-gallery.html)

ronaldcmerchant:

poster for a Bernie Wrightson art show-1977

58th & Lexington

it’s “The Container Store” now

(source of second image: http://fantasy-ink.blogspot.com/2009/04/new-york-comic-arts-gallery.html)

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theactioneer:

VHS of Hour of the Assassin (Luis Llosa, 1987)

IT STARTED AS A NIGHTMARE
IT ENDED AS A MASSACRE
IN BETWEEN THE NIGHTMARE PART AND THE MASSACRE PART, IT WAS ALSO A DRAMA, A DOCUMENTARY, A ROMANTIC COMEDY, AND AN ADVERTISEMENT FOR CLOCKS
BUT THE MAIN TWO THINGS WERE NIGHTMARE AND MASSACRE, LET’S BE CLEAR ABOUT THAT

theactioneer:

VHS of Hour of the Assassin (Luis Llosa, 1987)

IT STARTED AS A NIGHTMARE

IT ENDED AS A MASSACRE

IN BETWEEN THE NIGHTMARE PART AND THE MASSACRE PART, IT WAS ALSO A DRAMA, A DOCUMENTARY, A ROMANTIC COMEDY, AND AN ADVERTISEMENT FOR CLOCKS

BUT THE MAIN TWO THINGS WERE NIGHTMARE AND MASSACRE, LET’S BE CLEAR ABOUT THAT

fairy-wren:

(via 500px / Black Vultures fighting by Ofer Levy)

reblogging these awesome vultures instead of reblogging that garbage Axe ad to comment on it, since I suspect people who advertise on Tumblr don’t really care why you’re reblogging their content or what trenchant commentary you’re adding to it, just as long as they get plenty of reblogs
why do we gotta have the goddamn Axe ads though they’re so wretched
may the vultures feast on the flesh of people writing the Axe copy, may the vultures make jokes about tasting deodorant even through the putrid liquefaction of decomposition

fairy-wren:

(via 500px / Black Vultures fighting by Ofer Levy)

reblogging these awesome vultures instead of reblogging that garbage Axe ad to comment on it, since I suspect people who advertise on Tumblr don’t really care why you’re reblogging their content or what trenchant commentary you’re adding to it, just as long as they get plenty of reblogs

why do we gotta have the goddamn Axe ads though they’re so wretched

may the vultures feast on the flesh of people writing the Axe copy, may the vultures make jokes about tasting deodorant even through the putrid liquefaction of decomposition

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“Even at the Mysteries, he could never get warm,
crowded into the dark with the kist and the serpent,
the smart of pennyroyal on his tongue like a word
he had forgotten to say. Like a frostline in the soil,
the plunge of a colder sea … The sun silvered his hair
like olive leaves, the dry months burnt him browner
than Attic earth; the thin snows fell on Parnes
and he shivered even in the white arms of his bride,
the barley-plaited girl who sang round the well-head
like his elder sisters so long ago, the fallow year
a wanderer sowed blessings in the Eleusinian fields
and burnished him with her touch, an archaic mask
of gold. Like the daimon of his house, the glittering
awn, and still the old nightmare flickered up in him
at an ember’s breath: the fire that smelt of incense,
the shapes falling like a handful of tears, of poppies
and mare’s tails, of a girl’s face and stalks of corn
that glowed like scepters in the unwithering flames.
He had rested so soundly in her old woman’s arms,
his child’s length measured in her lap. The hall
in the shadows that leapt like stooks, the sparks
chaff-tumbling up about them, threshings of godhead,
her seedhead crown. And his mother’s hands dragging him
like a brand from the cinders, blackened, beaten out:
cold running in his veins like time. Yet imperishable
honor will be on him always
. A garland of myrtle
at a hero’s tomb, the north wind and the autumn rain
like aulos and kithara for the stitching of songs
he would shatter to the winds if his wife’s arms
would warm him, his children’s bones not shine
like a killing frost, if he could wake a serf,
a slave, memoryless as a ghost, the king’s tall son
and fair as harvest, goddess-dandled, lucky, lost.”

Homeric Hymn to Demophoon —  Sonya Taaffe. (via cerasiferae)

Even at the Mysteries he could never get warm

(via elucubrare)

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(Source: limb-of-satan, via towirr)

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tvgame:

Moondust is a 1983 generative music video game created for the Commodore 64 by virtual reality pioneer, Jaron Lanier. Moondust was programmed in 6502 assembly in 1982, and is widely considered the first art video game - Wikipedia

(via obscurevideogames)

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pleaseregisterthisshareware:

Epic MegaGames Catalog, Winter 1994 (2/3)

swooning

Castle Winds, Ancients, Ken’s Labyrinth

be still, my heart

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ronaldcmerchant:

Lon Chaney Jr.

my muse

ronaldcmerchant:

Lon Chaney Jr.

my muse



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