on the existence of Tumblr, of Hogwarts, and of Awesomeness

Oft and oft have I been asked the purpose of that oblique, self-referential sphere of the interwebs known as Tumblr. And as oft as I have been asked, I have either answered or have asked for cash dollars upfront. But here, ladies and gentlemen and the undecided, here at last is the justification for tumblr, laid out as plainly as the schnozz on your pan. This, my friends, cannot be topped, not even by Jake Gyllenhaal on a late and sloppy Friday night.

Enjoy?

 

 

If you got a letter saying you were accepted at Hogwarts:

acciodroobles:

You’d look up from whatever you were doing like:

You would then spend the next couple of days like:

You would then go to diagon alley and you’d be all like:

You’d go from shop to shop like:

Then, on september 1st you’d run through the barrier on platform 9 3/4 like:

You’d meet people on the hogwarts express like:

You would realise they’re just like you and you’d be all like:

Then you would jam for the rest of the year like:

THIS post right here? This is what Tumblr was invented for.

Vanity UnFair!

Julian Assange is no Time Lord, cancels subscription

Julian Assange is no Time Lord, cancels subscription

THIS! Means! WAR!

Oh sure, it starts out as an amusing, cleverly-written quiz on VanityFair.com, but the next thing you know it’s fucking SLANDER!

Rootin' Tootin' Newtie!

Rootin' Tootin' Newtie!

Congratulations! You are Newt Gingrich: Despite strangely strong public affection for dinosaurs and space exploration and shocking contempt for the women you routinely divorce, you actually made it big in politics—15 years ago.

This is, like, SO not fair. I’m not even gay-married!

Bonsai Kitten 2011!

bonsai pint kitten is a full 20 ounces

bonsai pint kitten is a full 20 ounces

Are you old enough to remember back in the days of Pet Rocks, when the biggest act in the world was the Osmonds and everyone and his dad (literally) collected Bonsai Kittens? Ah, those were the days (of Naugahyde and ponchos).

Sadly, after a brief but ubiquitous burst of popularity, the flame of the Bonsai Kitten‘s fame flickered and died, having only a brief revival once the Web had been invented and they could suddenly do mail order. Since then, they’ve been relegated to the back rooms of curiosity shops and the less reputable kitten mills of remote Mongolia.

All that is about to change, my friends.

Announcing the Self-Bonsai Kitten!

Isn’t that fantastic? Instead of growing Bonsai Kittens the old way, by hand, you can now purchase one of the specially bred kittehs who will auto-bonsai when presented with the proper receptacle.

No more this:

Bonsai Kitteh does not want to bonsai

Bonsai Kitteh does not want to bonsai

And we stumble gaily towards a world where everything, even our Bonsai Kittehs, are automatic.

The Seventh Seal Party Conga Line

The Seventh Seal Party Conga Line

Palin Poetry: The Palinleaks Haikus

New Shakespalin

New Shakespalin

Many and varied are the treasures of the internet, and the greatest of these may be HaikuFinder. After spending far too much time trying to download and run the damn thing (okay, i got the program…and now I need to install Python? And then I need to hack a workaround into Vista, which won’t run Python? And then I need to disable my virus protection so it can run? and whatever, dudes) I find out there’s a website. Paste in the words aye wallah! Your Haiku: dey are fownd.

So, presumably the Python script etcetera exist so you can Haiku-ify top secret documents without the off-chance that Wikileaks will find your sooper-sekrit poetry stash? Okay then!

In related news, it’s obvious to the most casual observer of the Contemporary Poetry Scene that we are not the first to take a stab at finding the poetry in Palinisms: There was Slate’s fictional Palintry roundup, The Utne Reader’s architectonic analysis of an interview, Prospect Magazine (yes, even in the UK, which reminds me, did you see Mike Tyson at the Oxford Union? Oscar Wilde is spinning like a turbine, I’m telling you), and, of course, a year later the Huffington Post. And this book:

Tap that!

Tap that!

And, of course,William Fucking Shatner.

As you may be aware, the Great State and Future Province of Alaska has recently released all of Sarah Palin’s emails (now, Republicknuts, keep your panties on: they’re redacted) for your reading pleasure, and we at the ol’ raincoaster blog have taken this one step further by running said emails through the HaikuFinder, and here are the results [who, by the way, is this “Tibbles” who gets cc’d in on so much? Her cat?]:

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Emo vs Emo: animal wars

This post will not include cats. Everyone knows cats aren’t emo.

Icelandic Ponies are emo. You would be too, if an outbreak of horse herpes had sent a flock of Utah Beauty Queens off their regular mounts and onto you. You would also, presumably, be rather tired, if very relaxed.

Emo pony doesn't care about your sugar. Life IS lumps, sweetie.

Emo pony doesn't care about your sugar. Life IS lumps, sweetie.

Look, they’ve even got the hair:

Sable Island Pony is emo, too. With better hair

Sable Island Pony is emo, too. With better hair

And Poodles, also are emo. Chihuahuas are not emo: they’re just evil.

Emo Poodle is Self Actualized

Emo Poodle is Self Actualized

It is potentially possible that things that start with a P are all emo. Of course, starting off with a Pee always makes me less moody and irritable…