dont leave me alone
JERRY: (To Kramer) Hey. (To George) He doesn’t even know where you live.. Who told you to give him your business card?.. (Intercom buzzes) That’s Elaine. Kramer.. (To Kramer) George wants to know when you want to look for the cat again.
KRAMER: It’s been a week. It’s up to the cat now.
JERRY: (Into phone) Kramer says it’s up to the cat now. (To Kramer) It’ll be on your conscience.
KRAMER: Oh? How do you figure?
JERRY: (Into phone) How do you figure? (To Kramer) ‘Cause you’re the one who left the door open.
KRAMER: Why was I in charge of closing the door?
JERRY: (Into phone) Why was he in charge of closing the door? ‘Cause you came in after him!
JERRY: (Into phone) So! (To Kramer - getting even more angry) So, the last person in should close the door!
KRAMER: Let me talk to him.
(via The Busboy)
Secret Avengers #9 Variant Cover
This was a fun piece to do. Trying to combine my style with a more graphic Steranko one was interesting. Instead of just copying the layout, I thought to give it a bit of a twist and change the perspective to keep it more interesting to do.
I was emotional for 10mins it’s cause I haven’t had tea the entire day imma drink tea and exfoliate my face and relax my head love u
if you reblog nevver you’re a bigger fuck boy than that large nose on his face
what if i make it to mars? are there ETs out there? im looking for you
Stop finding something negative to say about everything
That’s saying something negative about the negative person. I find you offensive for finding me offensive.
Musk told me this first group of settlers will need to pay their own way. ‘There needs to be an intersection of the set of people who wish to go, and the set of people who can afford to go,’ he said. ‘And that intersection of sets has to be enough to establish a self-sustaining civilisation. My rough guess is that for a half-million dollars, there are enough people that could afford to go and would want to go. But it’s not going to be a vacation jaunt. It’s going to be saving up all your money and selling all your stuff, like when people moved to the early American colonies.’
Even at that price, a one-way trip to Mars could be a tough sell. It would be fascinating to experience a deep space mission, to see the Earth receding behind you, to feel that you were afloat between worlds, to walk a strange desert under an alien sky. But one of the stars in that sky would be Earth, and one night, you might look up at it, through a telescope. At first, it might look like a blurry sapphire sphere, but as your eyes adjusted, you might be able to make out its oceans and continents. You might begin to long for its mountains and rivers, its flowers and trees, the astonishing array of life forms that roam its rainforests and seas. You might see a network of light sparkling on its dark side, and realise that its nodes were cities, where millions of lives are coming into collision. You might think of your family and friends, and the billions of other people you left behind, any one of which you could one day come to love.
The austerity of life on Mars might nurture these longings into regret, or even psychosis. From afar, the Martian desert evokes sweltering landscapes like the Sahara or the American West, but its climate is colder than the interior of Antarctica. Mars used to be wrapped in a thick blanket of atmosphere, but something in the depths of time blew it away, and the patchy remains are too thin to hold in heat or pressure. If you were to stroll onto its surface without a spacesuit, your eyes and skin would peel away like sheets of burning paper, and your blood would turn to steam, killing you within 30 seconds. Even in a suit you’d be vulnerable to cosmic radiation, and dust storms that occasionally coat the entire Martian globe, in clouds of skin-burning particulates, small enough to penetrate the tightest of seams. Never again would you feel the sun and wind on your skin, unmediated. Indeed, you would probably be living underground at first, in a windowless cave, only this time there would be no wild horses to sketch on the ceiling.
is this a simulation? if we can get to mars i will be convinced we aren’t in a simulation. its up to elon musk
if this is still there im gonna check it out on saturday. you don’t get the scale or power of something most times until you gaze at it in person. you know? anybody out there? is this a sim?
this is the scariest art ive ever seen
this is the only plausible scenario left for me regarding us being in a simulation or not. they are practicing mind control on us, and we can’t see them or something like that, but actually no, im going back to my simulation theory because there shouldn’t just be one ET out there there should be millions of different intelligent species.
8-year-old polyglot Mabou Loiseau (8 languages, 8 musical instruments, sings) on Katie Couric
Mabou Loiseau speaks French, Arabic, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Creole, English, Sign Language and is learning Japanese. She also plays piano, violin, drums, guitar, harp, clarinet, flute, conga, sings and takes college level algebra.
From ‘Katie’ on ABC, July 10 2014.
black aint modest black is arrogant
her arabic is complete shit, and her dress is a fucking halloween costume. i wanna get wit katie though she still fine after all these years, have mercy
running a simulation test. matrix? i think that was very close to being right. no extraterrestrial life? why is that? the vastness that is the universe, and we haven’t run into any e.t.’s