(Source: caw-has-a-brain-scratch)
Those times.
Is murder still illegal?
Would anyone else play the shit out of this game?
Only if Billy Mays was DLC
Randy Savage as Hidden Boss?
Fuck yeah “Piracy Camera” guy from the theater anti-piracy ads!
reblogging this again. WHY ISNT THIS A THING. Non-profit indie game? IDFK IT HAS BARBE À PAPA, IT NEEDS TO BE REAL
(Source: liam-kinsler)
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There are exactly three countries on Earth that do not provide guarantees for paid maternity leave. Papua New Guinea and Swaziland are two of them. Care to guess the third?
(Source: vvvivacious)
- first day of school: 30 pencils, 64 crayons, 20 pens, 12 rulers, 10 notebooks.
- end of school year: 1 pencil you found in the hallway.
(Source: winterinthetardis)
"“A live body and a dead body contain the same number of particles. Structurally, there’s no discernible difference. Life and death are unquantifiable abstracts. Why should I be concerned?”
“They call me Dr. Manhattan. They explain the name has been chosen for the ominous associations it will raise in America’s enemies. The marketing boys say I need a logo. If I’m to have a symbol it shall be one I respect.”
“Everything is preordained. Even my responses.”
“I am tired of Earth, these people. I’m tired of being caught in the tangle of their lives.”
“They claim their labours are to build a heaven, yet their heaven is populated with horrors. Perhaps the world is not made. Perhaps nothing is made. A clock without a craftsman. It’s too late. Always has been, always will be…..too late.”
“I am two-hundred and twenty-seven million kilometers from the sun. Its light is already ten minutes old. It will not reach Pluto for another two hours. Two hours into my future, I observe meteorites from a glass balcony, thinking about my father. Twelve seconds, into my past, I open my fingers. The photograph is falling. I am watching the stars. Halley’s Comet tumbles through the solar system on its great, seventy-six year ellipse. My father admired the sky for its precision. He repaired watches. It’s 1945, I sit in a Brooklyn kitchen, fascinated by an arrangement of cogs on black velvet. I am sixteen years old. It is 1985. I am on Mars. I am fifty-six years old. The photograph lies at my feet; falls from my fingers, is in my hand. I am watching the stars, admiring their complex trajectories through space and time. I am trying to give a name to the force that set them in motion.”
“There is no future. There is no past. Do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet.”
“We’re all puppets, Laurie. I’m just a puppet who can see the strings.”
“Thermodynamic miracles… events with odds against so astronomical they’re effectively impossible, like oxygen spontaneously becoming gold. I long to observe such a thing. And yet, in each human coupling, a thousand million sperm vie for a single egg. Multiply those odds by countless generations, against the odds of your ancestors being alive; meeting; siring this precise son; that exact daughter… Until your mother loves a man she has every reason to hate, and of that union, of the thousand million children competing for fertilization, it was you, only you, that emerged. To distill so specific a form from that chaos of improbability, like turning air to gold… that is the crowning unlikelihood. The thermodynamic miracle.”
“Yes. Anybody in the world. .. But the world is so full of people, so crowded with these miracles that they become commonplace and we forget… I forget. We gaze continually at the world and it grows dull in our perceptions. Yet seen from the another’s vantage point, as if new, it may still take our breath away. Come… dry your eyes, for you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg. Come, dry your eyes. And let’s go home.”
“I’m disappointed in you, Adrian. I’m very disappointed. Reassembling myself was the first trick I learned. It didn’t kill Osterman. Did you really think it would kill me? I have walked across the surface of the sun. I have witnessed events so tiny and so fast, they could hardly be said to have occurred at all. But you, Adrian, you’re just a man. The world’s smartest man poses no more threat to me than does its smartest termite.”
"
—Jon Osterman/Doctor Manhattan; Watchmen (1987)
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