Oh, I have a bad feeling about this.
Tag: I REALLY REALLY DO
“Are you really going to vote for Clinton just because she isn’t Trump?”
Yes? I would literally elect Chef Boyardee because he isn’t Trump.
My dear Americans:
When we here in Canada had our last election, we made a massive effort to vote strategically. There were even groups here who (since we don’t elect our PM directly but rather elect a ruling party) were literally going around making sure everyone knew who in their voting area was most likely to beat the Conservative candidate so that we WOULD NOT GET HARPER.
At the time I explained at length to many people how at that point, @tkingfisher‘s beagle Gir would make a better PM than Harper. Then I paused and thought, “hey, she lost a dog … relatively recently? In the last year? Was that the beagle? I can’t remember. … anyway it doesn’t matter, because her beagle would make a better PM than Harper even if said beagle were dead.”
You, my dear Americans, are now in this same position. Gir, all by himself with no advisors, would still make a better President than that POS, even if he were dead (the beagle, not that jerk; I am not sure that life or lack thereof would make much difference to that jerk’s presidency).
You are not voting for anyone at this point. You are voting against Trump.
Do not be a fucking moron and end up with Trump because you didn’t vote against him. Because Gir, even if dead, would make a better president. Do not mistake politics for a lifelong statement on your values. You will not benefit anyone or make any kind of statement by doing something that makes that piece of crap more likely to get elected, and every vote not cast for his best competition (that is, the person most likely to beat him, whoever they are!) is something that makes his election more likely.
Do not do this, my darling Americans.
Ideals are great. But so is long-term strategic thinking, and all of you young Americans reading me have many many years left of voting and doing your best to bring change and improvement to your country … unless you are foolish enough to let that jerk win.
In which case we all lose.
So please don’t be fucking stupid. Whoever the not-Trump nominee is, vote for them. Even if you don’t like them. Because you are not voting for whoever that is; you are voting against That Jerk.
Okay? Okay.
SERIOUSLY. It’s worth noting, too, that there are actually a lot of parallels between the Canadian election and the one you guys are entering into now. We had our centrist candidate that a lot of people either outright hated or at the very least didn’t like and didn’t respect (yes, that was Justin Trudeau) and an older, somewhat charismatic socialist leader who was largely thought would win by a landslide. (That was Thomas Mulcair)
Except Mulcair, a lot like his American counterpart, fumbled key moments and key populations badly and the longer the election went on, the more people started drifting away to the Liberals. Who ended up winning by a landslide and, well, *shrug* it definitely worked out.
Now I’m not saying Hillary is going to win and magically transform into Justin Trudeau, but I am saying you’ve not really seen her as a leader yet. You’ve seen her work within the Senate and you’ve seen her carry out President Obama’s policies as Secretary of State (yeah, if you’re not pissed off at him for those policies, might want to ask yourself why) but as her own leader? Not so much. Not quite.
It doesn’t mean you won’t be freaking furious with her at times, or that she won’t do things that make your gut churn, but for the love of God, the fucking KKK endorses Trump. They’re excited by his candidacy.
Ever want a chance to save the world? Here’s your shot. Suck it up and vote against him.
That’s what we did. There were a shitton of hardcore NDP voters who should have voted for Thomas Mulcair (dodged a bullet there, lemme tell you) who sucked it up and voted for Justin Trudeau because they would not risk splitting the vote.
No matter who’s name you write in on the ballet.a
vote for anybody but the Democratic candidate in this election is a vote for Trump.
A few words of help for our American friends, eh? #USA #Election
Sometimes, Obi-wan just gets tired of Anakin’s whining
I just want Ahsoka on the ground pointing and laughing at the Sand-Dance oF GET IT OFF Anakin makes afterwards.
No but this is especially spectacular, because they spend most of their lives on ships and missions. Do you realize at some point Obi-Wan literally grabbed a handful of sand and carried it around for this moment?
Think about that. Think about how fed up he’d be, that he would specifically take time to get some sand, ok? Not every planet has sand. Coruscant sure as heck doesn’t, it’s a giant city! He just…
This implies Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Negotiator, went and dedicated time to gathering sand for this express purpose. I can’t even. This needs fic. I may have to fic this.
psst @marloviandevil 😀
Psssst @jhaernyl 😀 😀
Also, Anakin is taller and probably stronger than Obi-Wan, imagine how completely *done* Obi-Wan must have been to succesfully grab Anakin by his collar, yank down, and just shove hanful of mysteriously acquired sand.
I’d bet that Obi-Wan manages to pull this trick off more than once – Anakin would be convinced that he’s on guard but no, sneaky Obi-Wan would save it for days that his former Padawan is just stomping on his last nerve.
And also, Anakin would never find that stash of sand.
27 for maybe Courfeyrac and Combeferre for the meme? Unless there are others you’d prefer idk
27. Things you said through a closed door
“Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac.”
There’s no sound but the shuffling of his feet on the uneven wood floor of the hallway. He tries again.
“Courfeyrac, come on. I didn’t mean it.” And then, because if he can’t be charming and he can’t be good with people and he can’t be naturally kind, at least he can be honest, he adds, “That way.”
“You meant it.” Courfeyrac’s voice is stretched thin and uneven.
“I didn’t mean your family. Courfeyrac.”
“Combeferre, go away. I don’t want you here right now.”
Combeferre has never been able to read people well, but even he knows that this is Courfeyrac’s serious voice. And yet. He can’t bear to walk away, to leave things be when they are so terribly Wrong. Not when it’s Courfeyrac on the other side of that door. “I’m sorry,” he tries. “It was rude and unthinking of me. I didn’t–I’m not like you, Courf, I’m not good with people.”
The door is wrenched open, and Courfeyrac is there. His eyes are wet but Combeferre knows he’s not really crying–he’s just angry. (He knows him that well, God, he knows him so well, how is it that there is one person in the whole world who he actually gets and he’s still managed to hurt him?)
“I’ve heard that–that cowardly excuse from you too many times,” Courfeyrac snaps. “It’s not good enough, Combeferre. There’s a difference between being awkward, and being cruel, and you like to pretend you don’t see it.”
Combeferre ducks his head, heat rising to his cheeks. Courfeyrac runs on, flinging out the words with frighteningly precise ennunciation, even as his tongue’s going a mile a minute. “It doesn’t take any kind of social acumen to recognize when something you want to say might hurt someone–it just takes a little bit of logic and enough caring to actually stop and think about the facts.”
Unspoken: Combeferre literally has a master’s degree in logic. Combeferre is a slave to logic. Combeferre is the one who is constantly pleading with Enjolras and Courfeyrac to stop and think about the facts.
Unspoken: Combeferre doesn’t care about Courfeyrac.
It’s not true, Combeferre’s brain protests–and yet it’s where all the facts are pointing. Given what’s gone down this evening, the logical conclusion is that Combeferre is a selfish bastard who likes people only for how they benefit him and doesn’t actually give a shit about Courfeyrac’s feelings.
And Combeferre is a slave to logic.
He turns away, and the door slams behind him and he can still hear Courfeyrac’s restless pacing around the room. And he knows Courfeyrac well enough to know to text Joly with the suggestion he and Bossuet drop by to channel Courfeyrac’s angry energy into something less destructive than what he’ll come up with on his own. He’s sent the text and received an affirmative reply (bless Joly, he doesn’t ask what happened), and has already let himself out of the apartment before he realizes that he’s once again proved that he knows Courfeyrac so well.
He really has no excuse.
As he turns up his collar against the cold, spitting rain that feels more like November than April, it occurs to him that he might also be being a little overdramatic, about the whole thing. He said something shitty; now, twenty minutes later, he’s come to the conclusion that he’s an inhuman wretch with a rotted-out soul who’s probably going to die alone and deserve it. It pains him to realize that that part of his personality is a fairly recent grafting, courtesy of Courfeyrac.
Les Mis + The Onion headlines
HAMILLTON.
….
That’s master pun level right there.
He did not throw away his shot.
I wanna be on the moon where it happens
It’s not actually a moon where it happens
WAIT A SECOND. Part of the plot of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum” involves a father searching for his long-lost children stolen at infancy by pirates. The brother and sister have been separated from each other and don’t know about each other. The daughter becomes a courtesan and the son becomes a captain in the army. They almost end up married. But she has a love interest and they figure out the truth before the siblings can be married.
I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE MARK HAMILL.
This post is turning into the best thing I have ever shared on Tumblr.
Was going through the Hapgood Les Mis, looking for various garden references for Reasons.
And somehow??? I have managed to miss the fact that between trolling gendarmes and saving Valjean’s soul, the Bishop found a moment to be passive-aggressive about his poor flowerbed that got damaged in Valjean’s nightly escape.
The Bishop had just bent down, and was sighing as he examined a plant of cochlearia des Guillons, which the basket had broken as it fell across the bed. He rose up at Madame Magloire’s cry.
and then
“Now,” said the Bishop, “go in peace. By the way, when you return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass through the garden. You can always enter and depart through the street door. It is never fastened with anything but a latch, either by day or by night.”
gawwd Bishop. 😀
That boy is our last hope. No. There is another.
WE ALL KNOW THAT EMOTION
UNMUTE THIS
I’m the dog
My emotion right now is this dog.
How I already feel about getting up tomorrow
Annie: Things have changed a lot for us recently
eirenical17 