Up on Melancholy Hill

There's a plastic tree

6 notes

mariokart64ost:

Ok so i’m taking this class next semester called amphibious warfare and it’s gonna be the fucking coolest shit damn

I found an article in a gun-nut magazine called “Protecting Yourself from Frogmen”, so naturally I was curious about the threat my slimy humanoid friends posed to me. Turns out, frogmen are Navy divers here to take our freedoms.

How do you protect from Frogmen, you may ask? You microwave them. Simple. You just strap a giant fucking microwave to the bottom of your boat and nuke the bastards.

79 notes

rocmorin:

A Man Without A CountrySomewhere, Someplace 
“I was actually born in the gulag.  My grandmother was Polish nobility.  In the early days of communism, if you were nobility you were sent to gulag automatically.  So my mother was born basically in a Siberian prison camp.”
“If you were born to gulag parents, like my mom was, your life was pretty much shot.  Everything you do in life is four times harder for you.  Anything you accomplish takes way more effort.  But what does that result in?  You become a hardcore person.  So my mom ended up a meteorologist.” 
“My dad was a Ukrainian peasant.  He became a helicopter pilot.  The story of a nobody who becomes somebody.  The Russians love that story.  You know, they had newspaper articles about him in Moscow.  My dad was actually featured on the front page of Pravda.  That’s some pretty hardcore shit.” 
“So, the way my parents met is that my dad went to Siberia because over there, any job you do, even a taxi driver, you get like three or four times the pay.  Everybody went there for the money.  So my dad was flying a sortie one time, and my mom guided him through different storms, and when he got back he said, “I want to see the meteorologist who got me home safe.”
“I was born in the town of Norilsk.  It did not even exist on a map until 1980.  It was a mining town. Norilsk is probably the world’s richest deposit.  The winds were ferocious.  The snow was so much, it actually covered up to two or three floors.  The temperature was -40 degrees.  You wear so many layers on you, as a kid you look like a fucking penguin.  But it’s so heavy to walk around, you get really physically fit.” 
“The factories there were terrible.  This was the mid-80’s.  Some factories, hundreds of miles downwind, everything was fucking dead.  You’d fly a helicopter, you’d see the carcasses of dead animals, trees are fucking dead.  At one point, the ground became so rich with the pollution, with all the metals and minerals in it, it actually became economically viable to mine the soil.” 
“Whenever a storm came, mothers would yell, “Acid rain!” and whichever house you’re close to, you run to the house, the parents give you tea or whatever, because the acid rain will burn through the concrete.  So that was a normal day for us.  I didn’t think there was anything strange about it until I came to America.” 
“You know, in kindergarten we were taught how to watch information.  When we were in high-school we were taught how to take apart an AK-47.  You don’t know any differently.  It was just my life.  It feels normal to you.  Just the same way, because we were so far north - in the winter there is no sun.  In the summer there is no night.  In the summer you have to drop down all the shades to sleep cause the sun is burning outside.  The cool thing is, in the middle of winter, when there is no sun, the stars and the moon are so fucking bright, it reflects off the snow and your eyes get used to it and you see everything anyway.” 
“So, I was born in the USSR, in Russia.  I moved to Ukraine in the 80’s with my parents.  In ’91, the USSR fell apart. Ukraine became a separate state from Russia.  The thing about Russia is, you only become a citizen once you turn 18.  I didn’t turn 18 in Russia.  In Ukraine, you have to be born there to be a citizen.  I was never born there.  I fell into a loophole.  At this point, I’m not a citizen of any country in the world.  Part of me likes being a nomad.  No allegiances.  I’m not responsible for any country’s fuck-ups.”

rocmorin:

A Man Without A Country
Somewhere, Someplace
 

“I was actually born in the gulag.  My grandmother was Polish nobility.  In the early days of communism, if you were nobility you were sent to gulag automatically.  So my mother was born basically in a Siberian prison camp.”

“If you were born to gulag parents, like my mom was, your life was pretty much shot.  Everything you do in life is four times harder for you.  Anything you accomplish takes way more effort.  But what does that result in?  You become a hardcore person.  So my mom ended up a meteorologist.” 

“My dad was a Ukrainian peasant.  He became a helicopter pilot.  The story of a nobody who becomes somebody.  The Russians love that story.  You know, they had newspaper articles about him in Moscow.  My dad was actually featured on the front page of Pravda.  That’s some pretty hardcore shit.” 

“So, the way my parents met is that my dad went to Siberia because over there, any job you do, even a taxi driver, you get like three or four times the pay.  Everybody went there for the money.  So my dad was flying a sortie one time, and my mom guided him through different storms, and when he got back he said, “I want to see the meteorologist who got me home safe.”

“I was born in the town of Norilsk.  It did not even exist on a map until 1980.  It was a mining town. Norilsk is probably the world’s richest deposit.  The winds were ferocious.  The snow was so much, it actually covered up to two or three floors.  The temperature was -40 degrees.  You wear so many layers on you, as a kid you look like a fucking penguin.  But it’s so heavy to walk around, you get really physically fit.” 

“The factories there were terrible.  This was the mid-80’s.  Some factories, hundreds of miles downwind, everything was fucking dead.  You’d fly a helicopter, you’d see the carcasses of dead animals, trees are fucking dead.  At one point, the ground became so rich with the pollution, with all the metals and minerals in it, it actually became economically viable to mine the soil.” 

“Whenever a storm came, mothers would yell, “Acid rain!” and whichever house you’re close to, you run to the house, the parents give you tea or whatever, because the acid rain will burn through the concrete.  So that was a normal day for us.  I didn’t think there was anything strange about it until I came to America.” 

“You know, in kindergarten we were taught how to watch information.  When we were in high-school we were taught how to take apart an AK-47.  You don’t know any differently.  It was just my life.  It feels normal to you.  Just the same way, because we were so far north - in the winter there is no sun.  In the summer there is no night.  In the summer you have to drop down all the shades to sleep cause the sun is burning outside.  The cool thing is, in the middle of winter, when there is no sun, the stars and the moon are so fucking bright, it reflects off the snow and your eyes get used to it and you see everything anyway.” 

“So, I was born in the USSR, in Russia.  I moved to Ukraine in the 80’s with my parents.  In ’91, the USSR fell apart. Ukraine became a separate state from Russia.  The thing about Russia is, you only become a citizen once you turn 18.  I didn’t turn 18 in Russia.  In Ukraine, you have to be born there to be a citizen.  I was never born there.  I fell into a loophole.  At this point, I’m not a citizen of any country in the world.  Part of me likes being a nomad.  No allegiances.  I’m not responsible for any country’s fuck-ups.”