It’s a tense night in Ferguson, but luckily no outbreak of violence.
Darren Wilson supporters are the literal worst.
HOLY. SHIT. I mean wow.
Fuck cops. Fuck that murderer. Fuck his supporters. Fuck white people.
Photographers keep draping Zoe Saldana over her robust, stubbly [interchangeable] sci-fi costars.
LOLING FOR ETERNITY.
For those of you still confused, that first one is for James Cameron’s Avatar.
…those are two different dudes??
we sure they didn’t shave the same dude
i thought they were both Pratt too. yikes.
God, I’m usually better at this game. FUCK.
Hollywood, you should know you have a white guy problem when even white people (and I personally am Whiter Shade of Pale) can’t tell the white guys apart. I thought it was just Teen Wolf, but NO.
Holy shit, I had no idea it was two different dudes.
…Yeah, I totally thought they were both Pratt, too. /o\ #FAILURE
wait. wait. are you sure that’s two different white dudes?
lmao this reminds me of pacific rim and how no one could tell raleigh and Other Brawny White Dude apart… not even Idris Elba and he was their co-star
OMIGOD I SO THOUGHT THOSE WERE BOTH ANDY DWYER.
This is a ridiculously good-looking picture of Pratt.
[Image: a split picture. One side is a photo of a Black man wearing glasses in a hospital bed with oxygen tubing under his nose. The other side is a sign that reads: “My name is Michael Hunter. I was diagnosed with leukemia in June 2013 & was told on June 11, 2014 that I only have a few months left to live if I can’t find a donor. Please help me with my biological family or a donor match! I was born in Columbus, OH 3/1/1985 at Doctor’s North Hospital and given the name Christopher Brown. Please share”.]
"My name is Michael Hunter. I was diagnosed with leukemia in June 2013 & was told on June 11, 2014 that I only have a few months left to live if I can’t find a donor. Please help me with my biological family or a donor match! I was born in Columbus, OH 3/1/1985 at Doctor’s North Hospital and given the name Christopher Brown. Please share"
Michael is a friend, I’m asking that you all take the time to share this. He desperately needs a bone marrow donor and there is very limited number of African American donors. Without a donor Michael is going to die.
Michael was adopted and does not know his birth family. We know he has a half brother but have no information about him.
He does not specifically need an African American Donor but because of all of the things that factor into finding a match (blood type, dna tissue etc.) , someone of similar descent is more likely to be a closer match.
If anyone knows anything about Michael’s birth family or if you would like to see if you are a match, please privately message me. I can put you in touch with him and his caregivers directly!
We hope through spreading awareness we can either find his birth family whom he does not know or find a donor match. Michael lives in the Cincinnati, OH area. Please dont just like this or scroll past. Please share this! You could save his life!
BOOST. Its so hard for Black people to find donors.
What the fuck is up with the east coast and gala apples… Like I’m sorry honeycrisp or pink lady are where it’s at.
Even the Midwest knows that! Gala apples might as well be baking apples.
I..thought they were baking…
I never even HEARD of these apples. It’s granny smith or die. (Also, those red delicious apples are absolutely disgusting. “Delicious” my behind.
MY FAVORITE POST
PLEASE TELL ME THAT PEOPLE IN BRITAIN ACTUALLY CALL THE USA “THE COLONIES”
Evanescence Ruined My Life Meme: (5/5) Favorite photshoots
He is taking a course on Marxist ideology.
He says, “The only real solution is to smash the system and start again.”
His thumb is caressing the most bourgeois copy of the communist manifesto that I have ever seen,
He bought it at Barnes and Noble for twenty-nine U.S. American dollars and ninety-nine cents,
Its hard cover shows a dark man with a scarved face
Waving a gigantic red flag against a fictional smoky background.
The matte finish is fucking gorgeous.
He wants to be congratulated for paying Harvard sixty thousand dollars
To teach him that the system is unfair.
He pulls his iPhone from his imported Marino wool jacket, and leaves.
What people can’t possibly tell from the footage on TV
Is that the water cannon feels like getting whipped with a burning switch.
Where I come from, they fill it with sewer water and hope that they get you in the face with your mouth open
So that the hepatitis will keep you in bed for the next protest.
What you can’t tell from Harvard square,
Is that when the tear gas bursts from nowhere to everywhere all at once,
It scrapes your insides like barbed wire, sawing at your lungs.
Tear gas is such a benign term for it,
If you have never breathed it in you would think it was a nostalgic experience.
What you can’t learn at Barnes and Noble,
Is that when they rush you, survival is to run,
I am never as fast as when the police are chasing me.
I know what happens to women in the holding cells down there and yet…
We still do it.
I inherited my communist manifesto,
It has no cover—
Because my mother ripped it off when she hid it in the dust jacket of “Don Quixote”
The day before the soldiers destroyed her apartment,
Looking for subversive propaganda.
She burned the cover, could not bring herself to burn the pages,
Hoped to God the soldiers couldn’t read,
They never found it.
So she was not killed for it, but her body bore the scars of the torture chamber,
For wanting her children to have a better life than she did,
Don’t talk to me about revolution.
I know what the price of smashing the system really is, my people already tried that.
The price of uprise is paid in blood,
And not Harvard blood.
The blood that ran through the streets of Santiago,
The blood thrown alive from Argentine helicopters into the Atlantic.
It is easy to say “revolution” from the comfort of a New England library.
It is easy to offer flesh to the cause,
When it is not yours to give.
Catalina Ferro, “Manifesto” (via dialecticsof)
I feel like people do need to remember that there is a very real, very painful, very human element to the word “revolution”.