1. I am Groot and watch is this? 

    I am Groot and watch is this?

  2. Maybe it’s a Danger Zoo?

    Maybe it’s a Danger Zoo?

  3. The end has come.
#thewalkingdeadseason2 #walkingdead #MyClementine

    The end has come.
    #thewalkingdeadseason2 #walkingdead #MyClementine

  4. I did my part in doing nothing to help fight ALS.

  5. "It’s you who’s out Gobby! Out of your mind!"

    "It’s you who’s out Gobby! Out of your mind!"

  6. How many guesses do I get?

    How many guesses do I get?

  7. Uninformed Opinion: Robin Williams’ Suicide.

    Back in the good old days of yore, when I was but a lad between the ages of 13 and like probably into my adulthood honestly, I was angry at the world(Or at least MORE angry than I am now) and I had my head up my ass, as people tend to when they’re teenagers.

    I used to think that I had this perfect, unshakable moral superiority over everyone else around me because I was an outcast. I didn’t drink or smoke or do drugs, and I told myself that not having sex or anything cool like that also gave me moral high ground(sleeping around and being a deviant was beneath me), but the truth is I wouldn’t have gotten laid if I tried. But all that made me somehow more righteous than my peers. Like I was some kind of beacon of uncompromising justice or some naive bullshit like that. I was impervious to peer pressure which is the self aggrandizing way of saying I wasn’t popular enough for people to try pressuring me into things.

    I actually still take pride in myself for being drug and booze free my whole life, but I’m not so much of an asshole anymore that I look down on others for doing any of those things. At some point I realized that I’d be a lot less angry at everything if I just stopped giving a shit about what other people do. I still can’t say I advocate drugs and alcohol, but if people want to do it then that’s all their business. Same with sex. People are free to fuck whomever they want, whenever they want and however they want, as long as it’s all consensual of course. Basically my operating philosophy is that people should do whatever the hell they want, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else.

    Some of the completely idiotic and frankly childish pinnacles of moral resolution I believed make me want to travel back in time and just seriously beat the absolute snot out of my teenage self. One such was abortion. It actually makes me laugh to think that I used to hold the literal exact opposite view on the subject than I do now. I always looked at it like “Well, goodness gracious, how can you just kill a poor innocent baby that has never done any harm to anybody without it’s consent? That’s just wrong.”

    Christ. You know what I think now? I think it’s completely immoral NOT to abort every god damn fetus that has ever had the misfortune of being squirted into a cunt’s cunt (please pardon my excessive use of cunt in this editorial). I think about my argument against abortion; How can you just kill this thing without it getting a say in the matter? But you know what? The fucking kid doesn’t get a say in whether or not it’s born either. That’s the fault of the two nobs who decided it would be fun to fuck without a condom just this one time. How do you know that kid won’t fucking hate being alive? And with the way the world is these days who could blame them? The economy is never going to get any better, nor is the environment. By having kids you’re basically dooming another human being to be miserable for their entire lives against their will.

    But this rant I’m currently going on is not about abortion. This is about another of my regrettable ideologies from my angsty teenage years. Suicide.
    I used to be so completely full of shit, that remnants of some of my shitty ideas still cling to parts of my brain like a bad stain on a pair of boxer-briefs. That shit don’t come out. And sometimes it can colour my judgement on things in a very ugly brown, despite my attempts to be rational. But fecal metaphors aside, I used to believe that anybody who killed themselves was clearly a weak, pathetic individual who didn’t deserve the life they were given in the first place if they’d just go and end it for no good reason.

    You see, in my infinite teenage wisdom, I figured there was honestly NO situation in which life could get SO terrible that there was no cause to live it anymore. And I would know, I mean, I was a kind of unpopular kid of about 15 who got picked on sometimes. I fucking knew hardship man.
    So I mean, if I hadn’t killed myself after all the woes I’d been through, what good cause would anyone else have to kill themselves? Clearly, only the weak and cowardly who are too afraid to face their problems would take the “easy” way out.. Good riddance. Like, full disclosure here, this is what I actually thought. I’d understand if you feel like beating the snot out of my past self too.

    I couldn’t tell you exactly when I realized how fucking stupid this ideology was. All I know now is that I cannot fathom a time in which I could have been that completely ignorant and self absorbed. But now, at the ripe old age of 23, having had to live outside the confines of my mom’s house and dealing with the never ending onslaught of bullshit that is “the real world,” I completely understand why people wouldn’t want to go on. If anything you’d need to be super fucking brave to kill yourself. Like, 
    A) Just the thought of inflicting pain on myself makes me feel icky and scared. I could never imagine actually taking a blade to my wrists or throat or shooting myself or anything because just fuck man, it sounds painful and frightening. And the thought of drowning or not being able to breathe terrifies me.
    B) Even if you did muster up the courage to off yourself, there’s so many ways you could fuck it up and just seriously injure yourself instead and then you’d just have to live with this scar or worse for the rest of your life.
    I don’t think I’d ever be brave enough to kill myself even if I wanted to. I’m scared of pain.

    Now I’d like to take an aside for a moment to clarify for some people, like my mom if she’s reading this, that I’m not suicidal. I’m not that depressed and I have no intention or desire to kill myself. This is a heavy subject that people don’t like talking about, understandably so, and so anytime someone brings up suicide, everyone gets uncomfortable and seems to think you’re all fucked and crazy or whatever. But honestly, it’s just something that fascinates me. I’m genuinely interested in the hows and whys. What is it that finally leads a person so far down into despair that to them the only reasonable answer is death?

    Nor, am I in anyway advocating or encouraging suicide. I don’t want people to kill themselves. It’s awful any time it happens, no matter who does it. It means that someone is so profoundly distressed that they can see no other option, and that is the most tragic thing I can think of: being utterly devoid of joy or love.
    What I’m saying here is that I can’t look down on anyone for killing themselves, and I’m sorry that I ever did. You can’t ever really know what other people are going through, and even though their problems might not seem like a big deal for you, or maybe it would have been better if they had gotten help instead, or this or that or whatever rational you decide, you can’t know.

    Today(yesterday I guess as it’s 12:37am as of composing this) legendary comedian and beloved human being Robin Williams killed himself at the age of 63. I’m sure everyone in the world knows this by now. This came as a complete surprise to me. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I thought about Robin Williams or even what the last movie I ever saw him in was. But he’s one of the most well known and universally praised comedians there’s ever been, and I’ve known him as many different people throughout my life. Peter Pan, Genie, Mrs. Doubtfire, whatever his character’s name was in Jumanji, Patch Adams and so forth. The man spent his life making people laugh, bringing joy to millions, warming our hearts. It’s truly, very sad that he found himself in such a state.

    Reading some of the news reports concerning his death, I learned just today that he had recently been battling depression, and dealing with drinking problems. These are things I just never would have imagined from the man. I know that comedians have a trend of being very depressed themselves, and making fun of all the miserable things in their lives is why they’re able to make everyone else laugh, but again, when was the last time I’d considered Robin Williams?

    Today(Again, see: Yesterday), on facebook a friend of mine expressed his disbelief that Robin Williams was really dead. I was going to share my sorrow of his passing when I saw a comment by some chick I don’t know saying how it was his own fault for killing himself, and how he was rich and famous so he had no right to be upset about things, so she didn’t feel bad for him, and I was fucking livid.
    How could anyone be so fucking callous and ignorant? Are there seriously people out there who are so fucking stupid that they can’t appreciate how generally terrible everything is? I was ready to go on a rant comparable in length to this monstrosity I’m writing right now about why this bitch was a cunt and she had no right to think like that. But then I stopped and remembered that “holy shit, I was that much of a cunt at one point too.”

    So here I am, reflecting on my past thoughts, and giving my perspective that no one asked for on the constant tragedy in the world that causes people, human beings: Men, women, children, celebrities, the rich, the poor, regardless of race, religion, sexuality, social standing and any other factor that people choose to define themselves in, to kill themselves. Depression and sadness are universal. The great equalizers. Anyone, anywhere can feel pain, and can fall into this hell that causes them to end their own lives. And the sooner that we (I) as human beings realize this, maybe we can find a way to stop the misery and help those in need so that nobody has to kill themselves ever again.

  8. Hey look, a brand new horror type game for me to get scared at.

  9. How far can one man make it in FarCry 3 when he can only YOLO once?

  10. wired:


What do Guardians of the Galaxy and The LEGO Movie have in common?


And they save the day with the power of friendship.



    What do Guardians of the Galaxy and The LEGO Movie have in common?


    And they save the day with the power of friendship.