genderbitch:

jemimaaslana:

cunthorse:

Lots of older/classic PC games for under $10, DRM-free!

They have Beyond Good & Evil for $9.99. You know you want it. You might as well.

Ohhh that game is awesome.

Also, they have Arcanum! Get iiiiiiiit! It’s terrific!

Omg I always wanted to play Arcanum!

They also have The Last Express. And Tex Murphy. And Gabriel Knight. And Beneath A Steel Sky, which is free. Love GOG.com. 

And Planescape Torment. Etc. 

totheexperts:

waxpolitical:

murphysbride:

annalisee:

peteshotfourguysincalifornia:

If god isn’t real, then why are bananas so perfectly made for consumption by humans?

Not only is it easily gripped by our hands, it even has a tab on one end to ensure easy opening. It also curves towards your mouth as you hold it in your hand, and is soft and very nutritious. To add frosting to the cake, it’s easy to tell if a banana is ripe simply by observing its color.

In other words, god designed the banana for human consumption. I think it’s quite reasonable to conclude that those who seriously think that bananas “evolved” by random accident are a bit [ableism redacted]. It’s like saying that a perfect working jumbo jet is likely to be assembled simply by throwing all components into a box and randomly mixing it around.

It’s just a coincidence that the banana fits perfectly into your asshole.

(also, http://hubpages.com/hub/the-atheists-nightmare)

Tired tired tiiiiired argument.  If god put a tab on top of the banana for us to peel it, then why didn’t he do the same thing for oranges and grapefruit?  Or better yet, why even put a protective covering on the banana at all?  Why not make every fruit as easy to eat right off the tree as say… an apple?  Why don’t all of the fruits and vegetables have banana shapes if it’s so convenient for god’s chosen creatures to consume?  LOGIC, DO YOU HAVE IT NO YOU DON’T TRY AGAIN.

Furthermore, the modern banana (can’t believe I even had to type that phrase) is the result of centuries of artificial selection. Pre-cultivation, a ‘wild’ banana was shorter, broader, with dozens of large hard pips and unappealing taste/texture. Human cultivation and selective breeding gave rise to what we now recognise as the banana.

Left to a deity, the banana would be inedible. Go fuck yourself, Ray Comfort.

This last point, that the modern banana results from artificial selection, is the most crucial of all. The wild banana looks like this:

When waxpolitical says ‘left to a deity the banana would be inedible’, it seems questionable that if God exists ze created bananas to be eaten. It seems that God would be quite flawed if ze created a barely edible fruit for human consumption.

Anyway this is a hilarious creationist myth, one of my favourites for how totally it FAILS.

[Ableism redacted in original post].

All I can think when I see this is ‘A wild banana appeared!’. :(

Visual audio synthesiser thing, click the blocks to make THE MUSIC. They flash white and stuff though so probably don’t use it if you’re affected by that kind of thing. 

Hi m8, things are pretty thingy right now, I did some things and they were good. How are things with you?

gamejournosblog:

Trying to promote feminism and equality of the sexes within the games industry is like trying to hand out broccoli at a children’s birthday party: they won’t have it no matter how much you say it’s good for them.

Please don’t stop, though. There are plenty of people in, associated with or interested in the games industry who appreciate every voice added to the pursuit of equality, far more than it probably seems. It’s often quite inopportune to make a point simply saying ‘I agree’, as you know, but the sentiment is definitely there.

truettogden:

Please, read this post. Everyone.

Read the whole thing, slowly.

Dear Sugar,

I read your column religiously. I’m 22. From what I can tell by your writing, you’re in your early 40s. My question is short and sweet: what would you tell your 20-something self if you could talk to her now? 

Love,
Seeking Wisdom

Dear Seeking Wisdom,

Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.

You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

When that really sweet but fucked up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do ecstasy with them, say no.

There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.

You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.

Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.

Say thank you.

Yours,
Sugar

I have to admit, I’m not a big fan of the ones that don’t display posts in vertical chronological order.

gamejournosblog:

strangelikethat:

Hahahahaha! This is one of the funniest things I have ever seen! I miss playing Oregon Trail.

I had no exposure to Oregon Trail until I moved to the US. Is it an educational game? Was it played in schools? I may well have to check out its Wikipedia entry.

It’s an educational game but it was pretty big in the UK too. It’s been on EVERYTHING. There’s a pretty decent iPhone version if you’ve got one. Apparently this lets you play the original version here but I haven’t tried it myself: http://digg.com/news/gaming/Play_the_original_Oregon_Trail

I dunno if it’ll have the same appeal since you didn’t grow up with it, but I find it pretty compelling even now so it might!

What about Granny’s Garden? Did you play that? :D