Sorry, folks, that’s as big as I can make it. I know, I know, you want a high-res version to print out to use as wallpaper; believe me, so do I. The Pangaea projections are nice, but it’d be awesome to see them carried on to the future, where many of HPL’s tales are set.
Two more in the series of Why I Don’t Swim in the Ocean. I would, if I could convince a pair of divers to swim below me at all times. Watch these videos and you’ll see why.
The Mantis Shrimp, ancestor to all clowns. Have a good time trying to sleep tonight.
Enjoy your next swim!
h/t Griffin Boyce
Found on Robson Street. That’s either a Cthulhu whose wings have been plucked (Nodens, that fucker, without a doubt) or a portrait in site-appropriate rainforest marble of some random douchebro on Granville street at about 3am, puking his virgin guts out.
Longtime readers know how much I adore this, the Hallmarkiest Holiday. Over the years, I’ve commemorated it with bouquets of dead flowers, Partridge Family anthems, and a lot of old-skool punk macros. Today, I have a roundup of the valentines which I received (TWO! Infinitely better than last year! Literally! Look how excited I am!) and those which I merely saw and wish to share.
From KAL301 on Twitter, I got an ASCII rose.
And from longtime blogging pal Disembedded, a street art heart.
And now, from around the internet:
My new imaginary sweetie Vin Diesel being adorbs.
A morbidly romantic safety reminder from Australia’s Dumb Ways to Die juggernaut.
And lastly but far from leastly, comes a Cthulhu Kissing Booth. Yes. An ACTUAL. CTHULHU. KISSING. BOOTH. But don’t get fresh and ask him who will be eaten first; not unless you’ve at least bought him dinner and flowers.
If that doesn’t get me on Reddit, fuck the aspie lot of ‘em!
Happy fucking Wednesday. Here is a little motorcycle made out of lobster shells.