ANIMALS TALKING IN ALL CAPS

12:19 pm - Tue, Dec 23, 2014: 2,163 notes

I was walking down Argyle Street when I heard a group of intolerably jolly children singing the song that accompanies this piece of trash book, one of the most useless and warped holiday missives we like to cram into the cortices of impressionable youths every year, repeatedly, apparently until the end of time.

What is the moral of this horror-fantasy tale? What values are we trying to instil?

Rudolph, a genetic anomaly that lives on the outskirts of some sort of arctic sweatshop, has a radioactive nose (likely the result of whatever toxic runoff the unregulated toy factories up the road are producing). He lives a lonely and emotionally void half-life, perennially abused, mocked, and bullied by his more hale and hearty reindeer kin.

The lord of the land, some bloated slavedriver who uses Rudolph’s tormentors as free labour, of course turns a blind eye to this kind of behaviour, as alleviating the suffering of even one reindeer might cause the others to begin questioning their own lot in life and possibly think of unionising. Rudolph’s abuse continues, unabated, for years.

The only reprieve from a life of cruel servitude in the frozen north are reindeer “games” which the bullies will not even allow poor Rudolph to “play” lest he gain a moment’s respite from his life of abject misery. He is called a bevy of cavalier and callous names, ostracised and abandoned, left to weep savagely upon the glowing, inescapable reminder of his shame and isolation, in a cave or a fen somewhere on the outskirts of town.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve, the ONE NIGHT PER YEAR the fat sack of shit who runs this torture carnival actually bothers to work, weather conditions prevent him from effectively navigating the treacherous route to countries where things like labour laws exist. He is struck with an idea, and sends for the mutant with the lamp for a schnoz, who was probably busy trying to fashion a noose with his thumbless hooves at that very moment.

“Rudolph, with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

And of course Rudolph says yes. How could he not? He’s been neglected, tortured, and harassed his entire life. He’s a creature on the edge, a monster in the woods. Abasing himself before this apparent display of camaraderie he sacrifices any hope of bargaining power to immediately surrender his precious labour to the one person who could have alleviated his suffering the whole time. For free, he hitches himself to the sleigh and uses his mutation to guide Santa to the houses of the “worthy” children of the world, and solely because of this, not because of any inherent virtues of personality or out of some sense of horror at their behaviour toward him, do the other reindeer suddenly decide that Rudolph is worthy of their affection and good cheer.

Then they all love him, and and exclaim how he will be remembered throughout the ages for having such a useful mutation. He basks in this disgusting reversal of bile, eagerly soaking in the new-minted and patently false adoration of those who have for years made his life a living hell.

Yes, sing, children! Laugh and rejoice! Spread the story and learn from it:

If you are different, if you are not beautiful and fit, if you are deemed unworthy by those with social authority no one will come to your aid. Nobody will attempt to stop your suffering unless somehow, by miracle, you are found to be useful to those in charge. You will receive no apologies, nor will your wounds be tended. You will simply enter the circles of popularity you so desperately longed for in your isolation, and be grateful for the opportunity. You won’t even have the presence of mind or the strength of character to demand redress or to help those in similar situations. You will become what you hate.

Welcome to the machine.

Ho ho ho.

10:20 pm - Mon, Dec 1, 2014: 395 notes

The only dog I’ve ever liked has neck cancer.

I know some of the 168,374 people who follow this weird tumblr I never update like animals. I myself am remarkably ambivalent on the subject, despite what this website’s existence might lead you to believe. I think a lifetime of sporadically owning cats has clued me in to the fact that animals secretly and/or openly hate us, and that makes it hard to trust them. Also, being a “cat guy” has naturally lead me to spurn dogs because dogs are morons. While the dog I am about to speak of certainly won’t change that opinion anytime soon, she is the only dog I can ever remember genuinely liking and thinking, “Hey, if I was a dog I’d date this dog.” Her name is Ruby and she might be familiar to you.

Cute dog, right?

You don’t know the half of it, whippersnapper. Not only is she so stupid she’s magically beautiful, her dumb idiot face actually smiles due to some weird musculoskeletal abnormality, so when you’re like, “Oh man, you are dumb. How dumb are you?” she will pull the sides of her mouth up at the corners and grin like, “So dumb. I am the dumbest thing with legs.”

So Ruby has some sort of neck lump, and my pal Stacey would like to make sure it doesn’t become a heart lump or a lymph lump, and asked me to ask you if you would toss her a few bucks to make sure our mutual friend Ruby continues to be able to grin creepily and eat poop and leave an ocean of annoying hair all over everything she brushes against for years to come.

So if you’re feeling Christmas-y and loving and don’t want to spend money on your horrible family, like this dog and give it a fiver or whatever. It’s a nice holiday type thing to do and you can kick back with your own house animal and know that you’ve made a difference in someone’s day.

That someone being Ruby, a truly lovable moron of a dog.

Cheers,

Justin V.

PS: Also, Merry Christmas since I’ll probably forget to mention it on actual Christmas. Hope you’re all doing well. Feel free to send an email along to atiacbook@gmail.com and let me know how you’ve been.

10:13 pm - Fri, Nov 28, 2014: 1,595 notes

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HELLO MY NAME IS KEVIN YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL WOW. I LIKE LONG WALKS ON THE BEACH OR IN THE CITY OR ANYWHERE REALLY AND ALSO FOOD. I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU SHOWED UP AND HAVE ALL YOUR LEGS. I HOPE YOU’RE AS HAPPY AS I AM ABOUT THIS DATE BECAUSE I’M NEW TO TINDER AND I DON’T DO THIS OFTEN AT ALL.

8:43 pm - Wed, Sep 24, 2014: 2,844 notes

BOY I’M DRANKIN’

I’M SANGIN’

ON THE MIC TO MY BOY TOYS

THEN I FILL THE TUB UP HALFWAY THEN RIDE IT WITH MY SERFBORT

SERFBORT

GRAININ’ ON THAT WOOD

GRAININ’ GRAININ’ ON THAT WOOD

10:56 pm - Sat, Aug 9, 2014: 3,600 notes

LOOK, JUST MAKE UP YOUR MIND. COME OR DON’T, BUT THE PORTAL ONLY STAYS OPEN FOR LIKE … FIVE MINUTES AT A TIME.

AND HEY, I’M SORRY IF THE LAMESTREAM MEDIA MISLED YOU INTO THINKING FAERIES WERE DIMINUTIVE, BLUSHING TEENAGE GIRLS WITH WINGS, BUT THEY GET ALL SORTS OF SHIT WRONG. W.M.D.S IN IRAQ? DON’T THINK SO. M.S.G. CAUSES “CHINESE RESTAURANT SYNDROME”? SORRY, SCIENCE SAYS NO.

AND NOW HERE WE ARE, JUST YOU AND A LIVING, BREATHING EXTRADIMENSIONAL CREATURE OFFERING YOU THE CHANCE TO LEAVE THIS MUNDANE PLANE OF EXISTENCE AND EMBRACE THE UNKNOWN, AND YOU’RE HESITATING BECAUSE I DON’T FIT YOUR PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS OF “BEAUTY” AS DEFINED BY GLOSSY MAGAZINE ADVERTS OR TRUE BLOOD OR WHATEVER.

YOU KNOW WHAT? FORGET IT. I’M OUT OF HERE.

5:44 pm - Fri, Jun 27, 2014: 3,827 notes

I MEAN, YOU PROBABLY CAN’T IMAGINE IT BUT BACK THEN I ONLY WEIGHED LIKE … THREE? THREE AND A HALF POUNDS, TOPS. SLEEK FUR. ALL MUSCLE UNDERNEATH. PICK OF THE LITTER, YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING? AND I COULD CATCH ANYTHING THAT FLEW. BUGS. BIRDS. THAT LITTLE BALL OF FEATHERS ON A STRING ON A STICK. ANYTHING.

LOOK AT ME, BILLY. LOOK AT ME NOW. LOOK HOW LONG MY EAR HAIR IS. TRY TO FIND MY CHEEKBONES, I DARE YOU. I CAN’T EVEN CATCH MY OWN TAIL WHEN IT SURPRISES ME. THAT’S HOW SLOW I AM.

CATNIP WILL RUIN YOU, SON. YOU DON’T WANT TO START DOWN THAT ROAD. TAKE MY WORD FOR IT. YOU NEED TO STAY IN SCHOOL AND STAY AWAY FROM THAT DEVIL HERB.

9:39 pm - Wed, Jun 11, 2014: 2,972 notes

DANNY, MAN, YOU NEED TO PERK UP. IT’S A PARTY.

AT THE SAME TIME YOU NEED TO CHILL OUT, THOUGH. YOUR MOOD IS ONE OF PALPABLE TENSION AND IT’S MAKING EVERYONE ABOUT 12% LESS LOOSEY-GOOSEY THAN THEY SHOULD BE. WE CAN’T HAVE THAT. EVERYONE WANTS TO BE FULLY L-G.

SO, TO RECAP, YOU NEED TO FORGET ABOUT YOUR BREAKUP AND REMEMBER ABOUT PARTIES. PERKY BUT CHILL. INTO A GOOD TIME BUT OUT OF SHITS TO GIVE.

TAKE ME AS A PRIME EXAMPLE OF THE REQUIRED DICHOTOMY. UP TOP I’M ALL PARTY, HENCE THE HAT. DOWNTOWN WE FIND ME SO CHILLED OUT THAT I REFUSE TO USE MY LEGS AND HAVE KEVIN HERE CARRY ME FROM PLACE TO PLACE. THAT’S THE MOOD AND ATTITUDE WE’RE GOING FOR.

WOULD IT HELP IF I HAD KEVIN GRAB YOU A BURGER? HMMM? THEY’RE DYNAMITE. THEY’VE GOT CHORIZO IN THEM.

8:52 pm - Fri, Apr 18, 2014: 12,570 notes

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OKAY, WELL, THANKS FOR LUNCH.

IT WAS REALLY GOOD SEEING YOU AGAIN. REALLY GOOD. I’VE MISSED YOU.

I MISSED YOU TOO.

SO MUCH.

…

OKAY, SERIOUSLY, I’VE GOT A PILATES CLASS AT 3. IT WAS NICE RUNNING INTO YOU.

IT WAS, WASN’T IT?

LET ME GO, DAN.

6:42 pm - Thu, Apr 17, 2014: 470 notes

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Hello, dear readers. It’s me, Justin (not this pidge in a bridge you see in the photo above. That’s just a pigeon that lives near my house). Long time no talk. How’s tricks? What have you been up to? Are those new shoes? I like them. Are you taller? You seem taller.

Anyway, I know how busy you are so I will get to the point: I wrote something that I actually like (in lowercase letters) for this app/magazine hybrid techno-organic iOS Skynet thing called Offline Magazine, which is basically a monthly collection of five articles/essays/etceteras that you beam into your spacephone, where they are accompanied not only by photos but also by professional narration from what I assume are reclusive pale weirdos in dank, semi-forgotten sound studios (but might actually just be normal people with accent collections and families, like Lake Bell in In A World…, which was a surprisingly enjoyable movie about the cutthroat world of movie trailer voice-overs I highly recommend you watch). That means you can either read the thing I wrote with the traditional retinal dance of saccades and fixations or listen to it on your stereophonic headphones so people around you just think you’re zoning out to marimba-heavy Beyoncé remixes like you usually do. It also only costs $.99 (or £.69 if you live near me), which is actually dirt cheap for the amount of work the Offline folks put into the thing.

You’ll have to forgive the powers-that-be (which I like to think of as Powers Boothe, a man we can all agree looks like he’s in charge of everything) for deciding that my portion of the magazine should be narrated by someone doing a voice like a snarky barista in a café with tasting notes for the coffee written on old-timey chalkboards. I didn’t pick that guy. Powers did.

Normally I don’t bother you with my extratumblicular writing activities, but this one is actually kind of decent, for a very respectable and on-the-level outfit, and comes bundled up with a piece about David Lynch from someone also named David (Griffin), some chefly words of wisdom from Miriam Nice (who just sounds nice, don’t you think?), and moving prose and futuristic thinking from Mary Chamberlain and Neal Shaffer, respectively. All with audio! For 99 cents! It’s crazy town! The town where crazy lives!

So yeah, if you want to read and/or hear 3500 words about padlocks and junkies in Glasgow, or if you want to skip it and go right to the David Lynch skyping story, click here and do whatever the futuristic robot interface tells you to do.*

Otherwise, just have a pleasant afternoon. That’s my plan.

Nice talking to you, tumblr. We don’t do this enough.

Yours,

Justin V.

_{*unless it wants to touch you in your bathing suit area. nobody has the right to do that without your permission. not even skynet.}

4:20 pm: 1,709 notes

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WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M A “ONE-UPPER”?

_{I MEAN THAT YOU EXAGGERATE OR OUTRIGHT LIE, NOT ONLY TO MAKE YOURSELF SEEM FAR MORE INTERESTING THAN YOU ACTUALLY ARE, BUT ALSO OUT OF A MISGUIDED SPIRIT OF COMPETITIVENESS AND/OR ENVY. THAT YOU WILL NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO JUST ENJOY SOMEONE ELSE’S EXPERIENCES AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS BECAUSE IT ERRONEOUSLY MAKES YOU FEEL INFERIOR, SO YOU FABRICATE WIDLY IMPROBABLE TALES TO SUIT YOUR NEED FOR SITUATIONAL DOMINANCE. THAT IS WHAT I MEAN BY THAT.}

I DON’T DO THAT.

_{I’D ARGUE, BUT I HAVE A DATE AT 5:30 AND I NEED TO GET READY.}

WELL THAT’S FINE WITH ME, BECAUSE I HAVE TWO DATES AT 5:30.

2:40 pm: 17,968 notes

SEVEN YOUNG LADIES STAND BEFORE ME … BUT I ONLY HAVE SIX PHOTOS IN MY HANDS.

AND THESE PHOTOS … REPRESENT THE GIRLS … WHO ARE STILL IN THE RUNNING TOWARD BECOMING … AMERICA’S NEXT TOP MODEL.

I’M KIDDING, OBVIOUSLY. NONE OF YOU ARE TALL ENOUGH FOR RUNWAY WORK, PLUS I DON’T HAVE HANDS. NOW GET OUT OF HERE AND GO PLAY IN THE YARD. I NEED TO TAKE A LITTLE NAP.

4:20 pm - Fri, Apr 11, 2014: 1,824 notes

[ARE THOSE PASTEL CHEVRON TIGHTS WITH SOME SORT OF CLUNKY ORTHOPEDIC SHOE?]

{MORE IMPORTANTLY, HAS SHE EVER HEARD OF SHAMPOO?}

[THAT WHOLE OUTFIT IS AN ABOMINATION. IT LOOKS LIKE SOMEONE TRIED TO SMOTHER A FIRE MADE OF CLASHING PATTERNS WITH A BLANKET MADE OF NORTH FACE.]

{THE GREASE FROM HER HAIR APPEARS TO BE MAKING A WATERPROOF COATING ON THAT JACKET. LIKE WAXING COTTON, ONLY HORRIBLE.}

[I SWEAR THERE’S SOME SORT OF HEMP SHAWL IN THERE TOO.]

{ARE YOU SURE IT’S NOT JUST MORE MATTED HAIR?}

[IF WE WEREN’T LIMITED TO TELEPATHIC COMMUNICATION I’D CALL SOMEONE TO COME AND PUT A STOP TO THIS.]

{IT’S LIKE SHE CAN’T EVEN FEEL HER OWN HAIR. HOW CAN YOU NOT FEEL TENTACLES? THICK WEIRD TENTACLES.}

1:57 pm: 3,682 notes

LARRY! DON’T FORGET TOOTHPASTE! WE’RE ALMOST OUT!

3:40 pm - Tue, Apr 8, 2014: 5,171 notes

DAN, YOU’RE MAKING IT INCREDIBLY HARD FOR ME TO WALK.

WELL, YOU’RE MAKING IT INCREDIBLY HARD FOR ME TO BREATHE, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

YES, RIGHT, BUT YOU’RE ALSO HURTING MY EAR.

THE EAR THAT IS INSIDE MY EYE RIGHT NOW, FILLING THAT EYE WITH THE ONLY THING I WANT TO LOOK AT FOREVER, WHICH IS YOU?

YES, MOST LIKELY, AND THAT IS SWEET, BUT WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY IS-

THAT YOU LOVE ME TOO? FOREVER? BECAUSE WE ARE TOTALLY SOULMATES?

DOES ONE SOULMATE OFTEN PREVENT THE OTHER FROM WALKING IN A STRAIGHT LINE? IS THAT HOW IT WORKS?

SURE. IT’S PROBABLY ALL THE WEAK KNEES AND SWOONING YOU’RE EXPERIENCING FROM BEING IN LOVE WITH ME SO HARD.

DAN, IT’S YOUR HEAD, WHICH IS SMOOSHED DIRECTLY INTO THE SIDE OF MY HEAD, FORCING ME INTO TREES AND BUSHES.

FORCING YOU INTO LOVE, YOU MEAN.

GOD DAMN IT, DAN.

3:23 pm - Mon, Apr 7, 2014: 3,869 notes

FUCKING MONDAYS, AM I RIGHT?

DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED. THERE ISN’T ENOUGH COFFEE IN THE WORLD TO HELP ME RIGHT NOW. I WAS UP UNTIL 4AM LOOKING AT INTERIOR DESIGN BLOGS. I HAVE NO IDEA WHY. I’M NOT EVEN ALLOWED TO PAINT MY APARTMENT.

THE INTERNET IS THE WORST FOR THAT KIND OF THING. ONE TIME I WENT ON WIKIPEDIA TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE DRUMMER FROM DEF LEPPARD’S NAME AND I ACCIDENTALLY GOT A DEGREE IN NEUROBIOLOGY.

TELL ME ABOUT IT. I WAS TRYING TO DOWNLOAD SEABISCUIT AND NOW I’M AN ORDAINED MINISTER.

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The only dog I’ve ever liked has neck cancer.

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