thecommongrave:

Recording of false alarm Emergency Broadcast System in 1971 by WOWO in Ft. Wayne, Indiana.

via Wikipedia

Teletype operator W. S. Eberhardt “played the wrong tape” during a test of the system and as a result, an EBS activation message authenticated with the codeword “hatefulness” was sent through the entire system, ordering stations to cease regular programming and broadcast the alert of a national emergency.

acerbumdulcememorias:

americanclouds:

Is that the classy and polite way to say “bang me before I think you’re not hot anymore”?

You could, uh, try a little harder…

Goodness, you are a load of work, aren’t you?

Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
Within his bending sickle’s compass come: 
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 

Keepin’ you on your toes, yanno. Can’t letcha get lazy or nothin’—

[…oh. We’re…we’re at that point of this, are we—]

acerbumdulcememorias:

But at my back I always hear

Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;

And yonder all before us lie

Deserts of vast eternity.

Thy beauty shall no more be found,

Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound

My echoing song; then worms shall try

That long preserv’d virginity,

And your quaint honour turn to dust,

And into ashes all my lust.

The grave’s a fine and private place,

But none I think do there embrace.

Is that the classy and polite way to say “bang me before I think you’re not hot anymore”?

You could, uh, try a little harder…

acerbumdulcememorias:

americanclouds:

acerbumdulcememorias:

Is not this cruel that thou, poor child, must look

Upon my torment; thou whose piteous breast
Would heave at sight of a bird’s rifled nest?

#close ur legs or ur mouth pick 1

What the fuck.

/…still, watch him go on over—

acerbumdulcememorias:

americanclouds:

acerbumdulcememorias:

Yes, yes, but it’s nothing I wasn’t already aware of.

Lovely to see you’re handling the fact that you are evidently in a relationship with an ancient so well. Do pick up a box of “Grey-Away” at the corner, there’s a dear.

When I get older losing my hair many years from now, will you still be sending me a valentine? Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

If I’d been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?

Is not this cruel that thou, poor child, must look
Upon my torment; thou whose piteous breast
Would heave at sight of a bird’s rifled nest?

#close ur legs or ur mouth pick 1

thegrumpymarshmallow:

A 1920’s advert for “Aladdin City” a proposed planned community in Miami, Florida. Aladdin City was never built due to the Great Depression.

All that remains of Aladdin City is an empty lot with some bare roads that still bear Oriental-sounding names.

acerbumdulcememorias:

paralianprince:

acerbumdulcememorias:

paralianprince:

acerbumdulcememorias:

 

Long live the King.

… Well when I’m king, right, you’ll be the firs’ fin’ ter go.

Noooobody knows the trouble I’ve seen.

Noooobody knows my soorrooooow.

… Must ye be so dour.

Right, at all times.

You talking to me? You talkin’ to me?

They call me Mister Pig!

And yes, he does dress in drag and do the hula.

paralianprince:

americanclouds:

acerbumdulcememorias:

paralianprince:

acerbumdulcememorias:

[Vaguely halted, heavy breathing]

Australia.

I am your father.

… 

No, because that’d make me ‘is uncle.

‘N tha’ ain’t right.

I was a King before I could hold a sword- surely you can be an uncle to a load of Not Much in Particular, Really in the middle of the ocean?

…But that would make you Wy’s uncle as well, oh dear. Perhaps not.

Hold up.

… Heh. Yer so weird.

You have no idea.

acerbumdulcememorias:

paralianprince:

acerbumdulcememorias:

[Vaguely halted, heavy breathing]

Australia.

I am your father.

… 

No, because that’d make me ‘is uncle.

‘N tha’ ain’t right.

I was a King before I could hold a sword- surely you can be an uncle to a load of Not Much in Particular, Really in the middle of the ocean?

…But that would make you Wy’s uncle as well, oh dear. Perhaps not.

Hold up.

acerbumdulcememorias:

americanclouds:

“Grandpa“—

You need help crossin’ the street too?

Yes, yes, but it’s nothing I wasn’t already aware of.

Lovely to see you’re handling the fact that you are evidently in a relationship with an ancient so well. Do pick up a box of “Grey-Away” at the corner, there’s a dear.

When I get older losing my hair many years from now, will you still be sending me a valentine? Birthday greetings bottle of wine?

If I’d been out till quarter to three, would you lock the door?
Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?

“Grandpa“—

You need help crossin’ the street too?

paralianprince:

acerbumdulcememorias:

americanclouds:

Let’s see here…

Alas, poor Your Ick! I knew him, Horatio, a broseph of infinite 
jest, of most excellent fancy. He did a bro a solid by carrying him home after Happy Hour around a thousand times, and now how…something something in my imagination it is! 
My gorge rises at it, though that is an oxymoron since every gorge I’ve ever been to is a hole in the ground and not a hill. 

I’m not entirely certain as to whether I ought celebrate this particular instance of American Ridiculousness or laugh bitterly in the corner with a spot of brandy and cry over the lack of parameter.

You ought have rapped it, at least. 

[ YOU HAVE SUMMONED A SEALAND. ]

… So Hamlet picks up a skull, he says, right, “Who were this sucker?”

They say, right, “Yorick.” ‘e says, “Yorick? I knew d’e muvverfucker. 

He used ter be court jester. Oi, Yorick, show us ‘ow 

You used ter make ‘em funny faces— why ain’t you laughin’ now? 

I’ve kissed these lips, right, I know not ‘ow oft.” And ‘oratio quips, 

“Eh up, let’s not announce ‘ow oft you kissed ‘em lips. 

I mean blokes already talkin’ ‘bout the way you walk, 

An’ the fact that you ain’t givin’ Ophelia no nook.”

rinascitadipasta:

americanclouds replied to your post: i’m saying do you want to give alfred a blowjob or…

/SCREAMING SILENTLY, THERE IS TOO MUCH HORROR but I mean of course he wants to, have you seen the size of my d…igits in my bank account—

/now i ain’t saying i’m a gold digger

/but you are messing with a broke broke nation—

…Super Mario Brother Numero Uno, your eyes are doin’ that cray thing—