“The greatest danger to our way of life is the decline of grammar.” I read this and returned, face-down, to the living room rug. Not war, not poverty, not obesity, not hunger, not sloth, not ADHD, not corporate welfare, not social welfare, not an ineffectual government, not a giant asteroid, not $2 Chicken McNuggets. The decline of grammar. I put a pillow over my head for good measure. The insistence that “bad grammar”–by which Gwynne and plenty others really mean “usages I don’t like”–will eventually lead to anarchy makes me want to burn shit down, man. Not only is it a pathetic attempt at fearmongering on the most inane scale ever, but history proves otherwise. It is possible for “bad usages” to thrive in ignominy, lexical bastards, without doing any damage at all to English.
I can control the weather with my moods. I just can’t control my moods.

kwmurphy:

lastowka:

I believe that I have once and for all solved the mystery of what is in the mysterious briefcase in Pulp Fiction.

Clearly, my friend and cowriter Conor has unmasked a deep conspiracy.

(via paulftompkins)

194 plays
U2,
Songs of Innocence

dtrip01:

U2 - The Troubles(feat. Lykke Li)

Great closer. Great guest spot.

(via hinris)

mostlysignssomeportents:

Oxford comma catastrophe

mostlysignssomeportents:

Oxford comma catastrophe

(via underking)

dorenarox:

Okaaay, soooo…
Why is it called birds and bees?
Like…you know, in German it is “Bienchen und Blümchen”,
which translates to “Bees and Flowers”, which actually MAKES SENSE!
Because you know, the only interaction
I can imagine a bird would have with a bee is EATING them!
Why would you use birds and bees as a metaphor?
It doesn’t make sense!
Why don’t you make sense?!
Bees and flowers is a PERFECT metaphor,
but YOU choose to take BIRDS and bees!

(via linguisten)

In 2002, having spent more than three years in one residence for the first time in my life, I got called for jury duty. I show up on time, ready to serve. When we get to the voir dire, the lawyer says to me, “I see you’re an astrophysicist. What’s that?” I answer, “Astrophysics is the laws of physics, applied to the universe—the Big Bang, black holes, that sort of thing.” Then he asks, “What do you teach at Princeton?” and I say, “I teach a class on the evaluation of evidence and the relative unreliability of eyewitness testimony.” Five minutes later, I’m on the street.

A few years later, jury duty again. The judge states that the defendant is charged with possession of 1,700 milligrams of cocaine. It was found on his body, he was arrested, and he is now on trial. This time, after the Q&A is over, the judge asks us whether there are any questions we’d like to ask the court, and I say, “Yes, Your Honor. Why did you say he was in possession of 1,700 milligrams of cocaine? That equals 1.7 grams. The ‘thousand’ cancels with the ‘milli-’ and you get 1.7 grams, which is less than the weight of a dime.” Again I’m out on the street.
  • Dad: Why the hell did you put a comma there?
  • Dad: Do you even know what a participial phrase is?
  • Dad: Omg. He's like my favorite character of all time.
  • Dad: Who should I dress up as for the movie premier?
  • Dad: Hey are you awake? I know it's late, but you read Animal Farm, right? Yeah. I need you to read this report. I can't tell if I am just super tired or if this is actual bullshit.
  • Dad: Alesha wouldn't be able to spell 'definitely' right if wrote it down for her. She would fucking erase it and then write 'defiantly', because she doesn't care. I hate her.
  • Dad: I need you to bake brownies. I lost a bet.
  • Dad: Omg. You cannot ship me with Gilcher. You know I don't like tattoos and he's like twenty-five. And for Christ's sake, he teaches math.
  • Dad: Omg. Gilcher said the funniest thing today.
  • Dad: Mrs. Ashworth and I have decided to start a band. It'll be called Great Expectations.
  • Dad: It's like you didn't read the fucking book.
  • Dad: Okay. So this week you're reading this book I stole from Mrs. Ashworth's. It's like sixty pages long, but you'll love it.
  • Dad: *puts books on my bed for me to read everyday and demands that I read them*
  • Dad: My son doesn't like reading. I have not only failed him, but society. You aren't my son. Leave.
  • Dad: Okay. So you're getting books for Christmas. All of you. I get discounts on them since I'm a teacher, and since I'm a teacher, it's all I can afford, so...
  • Dad: Fucking standardized testing can go fuck itself in the ass.
  • Dad: I have to teach for the required testing instead of what they really need to know.
  • Dad: Fuck the government.
  • Dad: Fuck the school board.
  • Dad: Close the door.
  • Dad: Charles Dickens was so fucking pretentious, and I hate him, but he also caused change, but he's such a Dick. Ha. DICKens.
  • Dad: I love puns.
  • Dad: People who say sarcasm is the lowest form of humor are assholes.
  • Dad: Please shut up.
  • Dad: Catching Fire was the worst book but the best movie and that feels weird.
  • Dad: I wouldn't get so mad when you call me at school if you didn't change your ringtones to inappropriate rap music.
  • Dad: I fucking hate Alesha. She asked what countries were apart of Austria-Hungary today and I almost told her to get out.
  • Dad: You cannot visit my school in a dress that short. There are boys there.
  • Dad: Barbra Parks is fucking Queen.
  • Dad: I need you to make me a good, relaxing playlist for silent reading. I'm too lazy.
  • Dad: If I have to watch two of my students grind on each other at one more dance, I will kill them both.
  • Dad: They act like I care what they think.
  • Dad: I hate homework.
  • Dad: I have decided to become a politician.
  • Dad: What's the one book with the guys and the one kills the other and the chick without a name who dies and the short angry man? Mouseman? Oh my fucking gosh. Of Mice and Men. I have failed.