My name is Hayley and I’m here to say (nothing)
watch his hair blatantly intersect with the lockers
my college animation professor worked on jimmy neutron and he was just like “listen yeah we knew and we just didn’t have the time or money to care”. the power would go out at the studio at least once a week and they would just have to leave until it came on the next day. jimmy neutron’s production team saw some shit
I had a guest speaker come to my class that worked on Jimmy Neutron as an animator and said it was basically a fever dream
I think we need a documentary/oral history about the making of Jimmy Neutron.
baby boomers when they hear you say “child abuse” and they’re waiting to talk about how their parents used to beat them unconscious when they were five and that’s a good thing somehow
implying boomers wait and don’t just interrupt
Not a boomer. Theres nothing wrong with corporal punishment.
You would say that, tumblr user bondage king twelve
Literally any other colour would’ve been a better choice guys.
I’d like to point out that the colour red has more positive than negative meanings.
im sorry but this reply absolutely killed me
red can mean whatever the heck you want it to mean, that is never going to change that this straight up looks like they DRAGGED A BLOODY BODY ACROSS THE FUCKING FLOOR 😂
Hi fun fact, colors do have meaning and there is a legit thing called color theory. Red does has more positive connotations than negative like the @mintymaiden said. Red is associated with more love, lust, passion than blood and death just like the chart shows you but If you want, here’s a link for you to check it out yourself. Also, check out “The Designer’s Dictionary of Color” by Sean Adams. Have fun learning something
I think y’all are missing the point here.
You can theorize to Nebraska and back but that doesn’t change my immediate reaction which is that someone is literally dragging a corpse around
I like that the presumption here is that “No One On Tumblr Has Heard of Color Theory, Let Me Explain in Depth” rather than simply acknowledging that the VISUAL EFFECTS of this particular color choice, applied in the manner it was, can still amount to “this is a hospital and that looks like blood”
like, color theory doesn’t exist in a vacuum. If your design of choice for Blood Red Paint is asymmetric splatters and sploches against the wall, or in this case, a snail trail on the hallway’s floor, an infographic won’t override the viewers’ instinct.
this post is the perfect summation of tumblr’s reading comprehension and critical thought abilities
Homicide detectives: why are you dragging that bleeding corpse around?
Me, an intellectual: well you see it’s basic color theory…
it’s your pet now, sorry, these are the rules.
I am LOSING MY MIND. Imagine being a child with no agency and there’s a WILD ANIMAL in your bedroom and you try to tell the two people in your world who are supposed to advocate for you and they’re like “ur lying.” So you have to live with a opossum.
@pesky-plumbers what about the F from Mario Golf?
The funniest part of this, to me, is that they didn’t use the “G” in Super Mario Galaxy?
There is no war in Ba Sing Se
The Moon landing was faked
Major words in Mario games have never used a G
please stop bringing attention to my mistakes i already feel terrible
What about the H in Super Mario Sunshine? @pesky-plumbers
y in mario party
this one is actually justified so kiss my fucking ass ok the Y is from Mario Teaches Typing
your ass tryina 1-up me like everyone else but you failed uwu
there was a g in this one too tho
An inspiring true story about two Chaims and the miracle of life.
My wife Chavi and I were visiting my folks in California. We picked a random Shabbat to go out there and went to the local Chabad for services. A family from out of town was also there that Shabbat celebrating their daughter’s Bat Mitzvah. We stayed for the Kiddush and the dynamic Rabbi Mendy Cohen led the entire community in singing, inspiring Torah learning and some hearty l'chaims. The party continued until late in the afternoon.
At some point, I asked the father of the Bat Mitzvah where they originally came from and he told me he was from Mexico City and had converted to Judaism many years ago before he had his kids.
Rabbi Welton with Holocaust survivor Chaim Grossman while wearing suit hand-tailored by Holocaust survivor Martin Greenfield.
“So why’d you pick your Hebrew name of Chaim?”
He told me that he had once spent a Friday night Shabbat service at a synagogue in Westchester, NY back when he was just starting out on his spiritual journey. One of his Rabbis had told him that if he ever met a Holocaust survivor, he should remember these words:
“A Holocaust survivor who doesn’t believe in God….is a normal person.
A Holocaust survivor who does…is an angel.”
During that Friday night service, as they were dancing around welcoming the holiness of the Shabbat Queen, he looked down at the arm of the person he was holding hands with and saw numbers. He felt overwhelmed that he was dancing with an angel and couldn’t control the urge to ask the man his name.
The old man smiled and said, “Chaim.” At that moment, this man from Mexico City decided that when it came the time to pick his Hebrew name, he would name himself after the angel he was lucky to dance with. Years passed and he never saw the man again.
I asked this father, “Is the survivor’s name Chaim Grossman?”
His mouth dropped open. “How do you know that?”
I told him I’m the Rabbi of a synagogue in Westchester. One of my congregants survived Buchenwald, went on to become a pilot in the Israeli Defense Forces, and then immigrated to America. His name is Chaim.
This father began to cry. He didn’t even known that Chaim Grossman was still alive. I leaned in close to him and told him that Chaim Grossman was very much alive and that I would be seeing him the following Shabbat. After Shabbat , we took this photo as this father wanted to send his love to his “Godfather.”
The author with Chaim Valencia.
The next Shabbat, I asked Chaim Grossman to sit in the center of the synagogue as I began my sermon. I told him that 3,000 miles away there lived a man that carried his name and who was raising his family in a traditional, observant home.
“This is incredible,” I said. “What is the probability that on the exact Shabbat, the only Shabbat in the entire year that we would fly out to California, it would be the same Shabbat of his daughter’s Bat Mitzvah? What are the chances that after hours of celebrating, we would have that conversation about the origin of his name? And what are the chances that the Shabbat for which I would return to New York City to tell this story to his namesake would be the same Shabbat on which we read the Torah portion of Shemot. (Exodus) which literally means “Names,” as our Sages teach that the way our ancestors broke free of their slavery was by keeping their Jewish names!“
I then pulled out the photo, printed and framed, and looked Chaim in the eye. As he raised his numbered arm to receive the photo of his “Godson,” everyone began to cry. You see, Chaim had never been blessed with any children. And yet now he had a proud Jew halfway around the world who was carrying his name and who would pass it on to his children’s children’s children.
I will never forget the moment when Chaim stood up and blessed God.
I will never forget the deafening applause that followed.
And I will never forget the image of this holy Holocaust survivor hobbling out of the synagogue holding tightly onto the framed photo of a miracle.
As my father, Rabbi Benzion Welton, taught me, “Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous.” I had thought I was going to California on vacation but I was really being sent to bear witness to a profound lesson about “Chaim” which means “Life.” As the Talmud says, “If our descendants are alive, then our patriarchs are alive” (Taanit 5b).
i’m not crying you’re crying
Fuck yeah I’m crying.
The first time you see how cashew nuts grow, you’re gonna think somebody’s posting a joke picture or a weird art installation.
ok but you say this….then don’t give us pictures
LOOK AT THESE RIDICULOUS THINGS
And it gets even weirder!
The shell of the nut itself:
contains a resin that’s so toxic just touching it causes burns to the skin, similar to poison ivy. Which is why cashews are never sold unshelled, because processing them requires safety measures like this:
How humanity ever figured out to eat this nut is beyond me.
In case you ever wondered why cashews are so expensive. Now you can wonder why they aren’t more expensive.
what i’m wondering now is how anybody ever found out that you could eat cashews
OK but you seem to underestimate how scarce food could get for people, and how desperate they become to try anything. If eating it raw kills you? try cooking it because we’re gonna starve to death anyway. Cooking it kills you? Try cooking it a different way. Touching it is painful? Try washing it, or extracting the inner bit and washing that.
There’s this plant that’s eaten by aboriginal people of australia around where I live. Only certain parts of this plant can be eaten, and even then only if those parts are cooked exactly right, kept at a certain temperature for a certain amount of time. And it has to be exactly that amount of time as both undercooking it AND overcooking it are deadly.
The history of food is a history fraught with countless, terrible deaths because we are so stubborn that when faced with starvation, we will fucking eat poison again and again until it’s not poison anymore.
Some Paleolithic chef “I know like five people died already, but I think I got it this time.”
Some different, starving, Paleolithic person “fuck it bro. Gimme the nut.”