I'm Josh. 18. Amateur photographer, nerfherder, Harry Potter enthusiast, and adventurer (whether they be big or within the smallest nook)

I live near San Francisco, USA. This is an assortment of things that I enjoy.

Enter a world of words!

Here are some facts

Reblogged from quibbler  140,734 notes
sassingintothevoid:

casteille:

hiddleswiggles:

twowandsandadrink:

motherofqueers:

mysteriesoftheworm:

Don’t refuse to reblog this.

be safe and make sure to do it at night with lots of cover so no one can ID you

im confused what is there
are
arepeople literally putting spikes down so people cant sleep in the only place they are given
seriously

Yeah I’ve been seeing about this spike thing.Where do they expect homeless people to go if not live outdoor??They are homeless.It’s fine if you can’t help but don’t make other people lives harder.

OK I AM REALLY PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS SHIT
so places like this are spending lots and lots of money on putting down barbaric devices to keep people from fucking sleeping anywhere,
instead of putting that money into organizations to FUCKING FIND THEM HOMES
get them off the streets with love, not hate.

do it

sassingintothevoid:

casteille:

hiddleswiggles:

twowandsandadrink:

motherofqueers:

mysteriesoftheworm:

Don’t refuse to reblog this.

be safe and make sure to do it at night with lots of cover so no one can ID you

im confused what is there

are

arepeople literally putting spikes down so people cant sleep in the only place they are given

seriously

Yeah I’ve been seeing about this spike thing.
Where do they expect homeless people to go if not live outdoor??
They are homeless.
It’s fine if you can’t help but don’t make other people lives harder.

OK I AM REALLY PASSIONATE ABOUT THIS SHIT

so places like this are spending lots and lots of money on putting down barbaric devices to keep people from fucking sleeping anywhere,

instead of putting that money into organizations to FUCKING FIND THEM HOMES

get them off the streets with love, not hate.

do it

frozenwithversaceice:

privilegetoengtranslationservice:

logicd:

iwriteaboutfeminism:

Congress is what happens when you put white people in charge.

And Africa is what happens when you put black people in charge.

Translation:

Clearly I don’t know that Africa had many great and thriving civilizations before Europeans came and fucked that up.

Translation: clearly I don’t know that the majority of the problems in African countries are a direct result of European colonization

Reblogged from quibbler  18,981 notes
nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.
I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.
The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.
"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"
Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.
Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.
I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.
But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.
"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.
"No, I’m good," I said.
"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.
Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—
“Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.
Reader, I bought them all.

nympheline:

This is my favourite bookstore and bookseller in the world. Bar none.

I used to get to Seattle every six months or so, and whenever I visited I always made it a priority to stop in BLMF and ask its keeper what he’d been reading lately. He possessed an inexhaustible memory, a comfortable lack of snobbery, and impeccable taste. The first book he recommended to me, upon listening gravely to my litany of at-the-moment authors (Barbara Kingsolver, James Clavell, Maeve Binchy, Neil Gaiman, Charles DeLint, Anthony Bourdain) was Tipping the Velvet. He also later landed me with Geek Love, Anno Dracula, half the Aubreyad, and more modern Literature-with-a-capital-L than I could carry home.

The next-to-last time I dropped in, I asked if he had any P. G. Wodehouse.

"I have zero Wodehouse," he said, "and here’s why…"

Turned out that some fiend had taken to creeping in every month or so expressly to inquire of any Wodehouse and, once led to the volumes, to buy it all. ALL. Didn’t matter the condition, the edition, or whether he had another just like it in his possession; the villain bought every single P. G. Wodehouse in stock, every single time.

Was he a fan more comprehensive, more truly fanatical than any other I’d heard of, let alone known? Was he virulently anti-Wodehouse, only purchasing the books to keep their wry poison from infecting the impressionable masses? The world may never know.

I didn’t get any Wodehouse then, and I didn’t really feel the lack. I found plenty of other treasures that trip. But here’s one reason why BLMF and its proprietor are my favourite of their kind: that was two years ago, you see. Maybe three. In all that interim, I never planted foot in that bookshop. Never called. Never wrote. And I’m one face out of hundreds of thousands, dear reader; one reader he saw twice a year for three years, then not again for another three.

But I walked in the shop last Friday. Nodded hello.

"Can I help you find anything?" he asked, lifting his head from the phone.

"No, I’m good," I said.

"Wait—hold on a second." He set the phone down, walked ‘round the towers of books balanced precariously on the desk, on the floor, and atop other, only slightly less precarious towers. He jerked his head conspiratorially toward the far end of the shop, led me carefully to a shelf way in the back, removed a tattered stack of mass market paperbacks and motioned me closer to see what they’d been hiding.

Fifteen pristine Wodehouses: crisp, heavy, and—

Hardcover,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows.

Reader, I bought them all.

Reblogged from thecutestofthecute  83,426 notes

h3adphonez:

volatilevibes:

Okay so, where I live (Canada, Newfoundland) we have the smallest ponies.
image

image

And the biggest dogs
image

image

Here’s a size comparison for the Newfoundland dog 
image

and together
image

That is a full grown dog and pony together LOOK AT THAT!
Now if you don’t think that’s the greatest shit ever I don’t know what is!

I’m moving…BYE MOM

Reblogged from lifeasatowel  277,787 notes

lodubimvloyaar:

Children Read To Shelter Cats To Soothe Them

(Photos by Animal Rescue League Of Berks County. You can follow them on Facebook.)

Also good for the kids. They encourage having slow readers read to the family pets. A dog will listen to a kid read a whole book one damn sssyl-la——-ble at a time, and it will never get frustrated, or correct their pronunciation, or start playing Angry Bird because it can’t stand listening to the slowness any more. The dog will look at the kid approvingly, because, human. Human is talking. Human is interacting.

So this is a great win-win.

Reblogged from lifeasatowel  820,273 notes

lifeasatowel:

twinkletwinkleyoulittlefuck:

cell-mate:

crackerhell:

ethanwearsprada:

i think it’s a universal truth that everyone in our generation takes pluto’s losing its planetary status as a personal offense

yes

pluto is smaller than russia. why did we ever even consider it a planet?

BECAUSE IT’S A PART OF OUR SOLAR SYSTEM

OHANA MEANS FAMILY

FAMILY MEANS NO ONE IS LEFT BEHIND

That was the most 90’s child statement ever.

We should rename Pluto “Ohana”

Reblogged from superheroscience  515 notes

A new poll from Gallup shows that 63% of Americans say the country would be better governed with more female political leaders, which is up slightly from 57% in past polls in 1995 and 2000. But not everyone feels this way: While 78% of liberals as well as 78% of unmarried women think we need more female political leaders, only 46% of Republicans feel that having more women in office would result in better government, and almost one in five (19%) feel it would be worse. By Most Americans Think The U.S. Would Be Better Governed If More Women Were In Charge (via fastcompany)

Reblogged from superheroscience  17,859 notes

america-wakiewakie:

"Hey Hey, Ho Ho, These Racist Cops Have Got to Go": Oakland, CA, marches in solidarity with Ferguson | AmericaWakieWakie 

August 20th, 2014

Tonight, just over a week after the killing of an unarmed black teen at the hands of Ferguson, MO police, Oakland residents took to the streets in solidarity with protesters across the country to demand an end to police brutality against black (and brown) communities. Centered around the failure of Ferguson’s local authorities to arrest killer cop Darren Wilson, the officer responsible for Michael Brown’s death, protesters in Oakland rallied to demand “Justice for Mike Brown.”

SF Gate reported:

The marches started in four separate locations - Frank H. Ogawa Plaza, Jack London Square, the main branch of the Oakland Public Library and the African American History Museum - but came together outside of Oakland Police Headquarters around 6 p.m.

Protesters from the different marches were briefly prevented from joining up with each other by a line of police.

Quanah Brightman, executive director of United Native Americans, an Indian protest group was angered by police attempting to block the marchers from uniting.

"They won’t even let us walk on the public street," he said. "I don’t feel safe. It is what it is, and they hate us. When they put on a badge, they’re allowed to kill us."

Several protesters and family members had recently returned from Ferguson, where police have been criticized for their heavy-handed tactics, and urged support for their counterparts there.

Oakland certainly is not unfamiliar with police brutality. Like today, it was not long ago that the community was in the streets over the death of Oscar Grant, who was killed by BART police in 2009. Or the nearby deaths of Alex Nieto and Andy Lopez, who both died at the hands of law enforcement officers.

Even more recently, however, over the death of Alan Blueford, who was shot and killed by Oakland police on May 6, 2012. His mother, Jeralynn Blueford, along with Grant’s mother, attended the protest tonight.

As quoted by SF Gate, she rallied the crowd with chants of “They say get back! We say, fight back,” as police formed a line to block merging groups of protesters.

She went on to tell the folks to take the fight to Washington D.C., saying “We’re going to change this crooked system. Obama, if you hear me, Alan Blueford’s life matters. Mike Brown's life matters.”

(Photo Credit: Top by Scott Strazzante | All remaining by AmericaWakieWakie)

Reblogged from thecraftychemist  54 notes

thecraftychemist:

Lost forever - nitrocellulose decay and why you shouldn’t smoke near vintage film

Nitrocellulose was the primary material used in film production until 1952, when it was discontinued and replaced with ‘safety film’ which was acetate based. It was a considerable safety improvement seeing as it doesn’t burn 20 times faster than wood or contain it’s own oxygen allowing it to burn underwater like nitrocellulose can; although acetate is still able to break down to form acetic acid and water limiting it’s longevity in a process known as ‘vinegar syndrome’.

Above: acetate based film affected by ‘vinegar syndrome’.

Not only was nitrocellulose incredibly flammable, it was found to gradually decompose producing nitric acid and a sticky flammable gunpowder like material. In order to prevent this film archivists store it at low temperature and humidity which allows it to be stored indefinitely.

Above: nitrocellulose film showing nitrate base deterioration.

Unfortunately, a majority of early 20th century material has been lost through fires or through the film’s degradation. Furthermore, some silent films were deliberately destroyed by film studios to make room for ‘talkies’. Roughly 50% of the films made up until 1950 are lost, while 70% of the silent films made before 1929 are gone forever.

The oldest surviving and first ever film, is known as the ‘Roundhay Garden scene’ (above). It was produced on acetate on the 14th of October, 1888 over 2 seconds.

Guide for handling, salvage and safe disposal of nitrocellulose film here.

GIF video/ image sources: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.