catvincent:

lambrini-socialism:

infinite-magical-recipes:

shredsandpatches:

junkybowels:

plaidadder:

argonauticae:

argonauticae:

im putting together a couple of scottish folk mixes bc that’s what i do and im honestly curious if anyone in my country has ever been unequivocally happy about anything ever

scottish trad music genres:

  • Everyone I Love Is Dead
  • The English Have Stolen All My Sheep
  • You Want To Be My Boyfriend? First You Must Answer These Riddles Three
  • The Protestants Have Stolen All My Sheep
  • I Love You A Lot But You’ve Left Me And It’s Raining [fiddle solo]
  • The Sea Is Treacherous, Just Like The English
  • One Time Bonnie Prince Charlie Punched Me In The Face And It Was Awesome
  • The Fairies Have Stolen All My Sheep

We have of course the traditional Irish music genres to go with them:

* Everyone I Love Is An Allegorical Representation of Ireland

* The English Stole My Farm And Put Sheep On It

* You Were My Boyfriend But Now You Won’t Even Come To The Window To Look Upon Me And Our Dead Infant Child (In The Rain)

* Whack Fol Too La Roo Umptytiddly Good They’ve Stopped Listening Now Let’s Talk About Revolution

* Something In Irish, I Think It’s About Fairies, Or Maybe A Cow

oooo can I add to this? don’t forget Appalachian folk balladry, the American cousin of Scottish and Irish traditional music and just as uplifting as its Anglo-Saxon highland forbears!!!

genres include:

  • I Left Everyone I Love Back Home In The Holler To Be With This Guy Who Doesn’t Wear Shoes Or Have Teeth But He Plays A Mean Jug
  • The English Told Us Not To Move West Yet, We Ignored Them, My Entire Family Was Killed
  • You Were My Boyfriend But You Tied A Sack Of Rocks To My Petticoats And Threw Me In The Creek (And My Baby Too)
  • Mama Loves All 14 Of Us A Lot But She’s Weary Of Our Shit And Now She’s Dyin’ (Gather Round)
  • The McCleans Stole A Firewood Log From Our Pile So We Won’t Rest Until The Last Of Their Male Kin Is Laid In The Cold Ground
  • We Knew The River Would Rise But We Still Didn’t Fix The Levee 
  • The River Rose, The Levee Broke, Everyone Died, It Was Just As We Reckoned (dulcimer twang-a-lang) 
  • When The Rebels Come A-Marchin’ I’m A Southern Man And I Feed Their Horses My Best, When The Yankees Come A-Marchin’ I’m A Northern Man And I Feed Their Horses What The Rebels Left
  • The Tennessee Valley Authority Killed All My Sheep Somehow

Don’t forget that old standby “The Mine Collapsed and Everyone Died”!

I think someone needs to put in a word for the English folk tradition though:

  • I Met a Girl and We Went Hunting (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)
  • I Met a Girl and We Caught Some Birds (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)
  • I Met a Girl and We Found Her Lost Pet (It Was a Metaphor for Sex)
  • I Met a Girl By Staying At Her Parents’ House and She Made My Bed (It Was an Especially Thinly-Veiled Metaphor for Sex)
  • I Am a Girl and I Regret Engaging In Metaphors for Sex Because Now I’m Pregnant
  • I Met a Girl and Bribed Her Into Sex But She Stole My Horse and Ran Away With It
  • I Met a Girl At an Inn and We Had Non-Metaphorical Sex But She Stole My Stuff The Next Morning and Now I Have Syphilis
  • Your Fiance Died Either at Trafalgar or Waterloo, Let’s Get Married, I’m Glad You Said No Because I’m Really Him In Disguise
  • Lord Nelson Sure Was Awesome
  • The Press-Gang Dragged Off All the Important Men in My Life (And Now They Are Dead)
  • Farm Laborers Are The Salt of the Earth And Are Never Grindingly Poor
  • Begging Is a Completely Viable Career Option With Flexible Hours and Unlimited Access to Alcohol

behold mongolian folk music genres

  • I Went Out Riding and Noticed Mongolia
  • We Fought a Bunch of Guys (On Horseback)
  • Witness My Many Ungulates
  • (While On a Horse) I Met a Hot Girl Who Reminded Me of a Plant
  • On Three, Say What That Terrain Feature Looks Like to You (One, Two, Three, A Horse)
  • Witness My Many Ancestors’ Many Ungulates
  • I Also Enjoy Heavy Metal, Especially If It’s Made of Horseshoes
  • Oooorrrrweeeeuuurrrreeeeuuuuwwwwwrrrrrrrr (Is Tuvan for “Horse”)
  • You Might Not Know This About Me, But I Own a Horse

Yorkshire / Northern England speciality folk songs that I’ve gathered from growing up in working men’s clubs and shit:

We love you Mrs. Thatcher (ironic, song describes her death)

The IRA are alright (but we are bitter they couldn’t kill Mrs. Thatcher)

Coal not dole (we love mining, it’s our way of life. As is dying of lung disease far too young.)

Socialism means beating the shite out of fascists and getting away with it (but we never do, and now the police have brutalised us)

The police are cunts (Hillsborough version)

The police are cunts (Orgreave version)

The police are cunts (but my brother is one and the fact I am a striking miner has torn our family in two)

We love Nye Bevan (and get emotional about him when we are drunk)

My father was a communist (but with age he has shifted to the right and now I pretend he is dead whilst worrying I will go the same way)

The trade unions saved my job (and by extension my life, because now I won’t be killed in an preventable workplace accident)

My job killed me (in a preventable workplace accident)

I want to live long enough to see my children grow and prosper (but I won’t)

I love this girl but not as much as I love my city’s industrial past (that is long gone, and now I get emotional about it when I drink)

A Tory fucking murdered me (self explanatory)

Folk songs abbreviated: IT GOT BETTER

systlin:

systlin:

Something I find incredibly cool is that they’ve found neandertal bone tools made from polished rib bones, and they couldn’t figure out what they were for for the life of them. 

Until, of course, they showed it to a traditional leatherworker and she took one look at it and said “Oh yeah sure that’s a leather burnisher, you use it to close the pores of leather and work oil into the hide to make it waterproof. Mine looks just the same.” 

“Wait you’re still using the exact same fucking thing 50,000 years later???”

“Well, yeah. We’ve tried other things. Metal scratches up and damages the hide. Wood splinters and wears out. Bone lasts forever and gives the best polish. There are new, cheaper plastic ones, but they crack and break after a couple years. A bone polisher is nearly indestructible, and only gets better with age. The more you use a bone polisher the better it works.”

It’s just. 

50,000 years. 50,000. And over that huge arc of time, we’ve been quietly using the exact same thing, unchanged, because we simply haven’t found anything better to do the job. 

I also want to point out that this is a tradition that has been handed down, practitioner to practitioner, master to apprentice, for fifty thousand years. 

It’s not really written down, except of course in more modern times. But for the vast, vast majority of that time, this knowledge has been handed down orally, from one leatherworker to another, from one generation to the next, in an unbroken line reaching clear back to the fucking stone age. 

And when a new technology arose, of course the new generation would experiment with it as is human nature, only to determine that it wasn’t as good, and go back to the same old tool that had been serving faithfully for tens of thousands of years. 

Fuck. I’ve got one that I made from a deer rib bone that I got from a deer a hunter friend of mine killed. (I got some venison too and it was delicious.) I’m using it to waterproof leather to make myself some moccasins to wear while hiking (which are another example of an old, old thing still being the best thing).

And I’m holding it now, reading this article and watching this documentary, and it’s kind of humbling and exhilarating all at once, to have something in your hand that so viscerally ties you to a thousand generations of your ancestors, people you’ll never know the names of but lived and worked and died using this same fucking thing. 

I just. 

Incredible. 

birb-sneks:

nuka-rockit:

Depression™! 

comes with multiple fun features such as:

  • exhaustion! but not enough to sleep just lie on the floor like a wet towel
  • whoops! shouldve eaten 2 hours ago
  • all food tastes equally boring! yeah that piece of old bread and 4 pickles will do
  • staring at the ceiling!
  • lose your train of thought every 5 minutes! whatever youre trying to do sure won’t get done anytime soon
  • every activtiy feels pointless! even your favourite hobbies. Especially your favourite hobbies!
  • loneliness! but also you feel like a burden to everyone you know so good luck with that
  • staring at the wall!
  • wearing the same sweatpants for 3 days straight! because who can be bothered? not you that’s for sure!
  • yelling at people for no reason! because now even their breathing annoys you 
  • staring at the wall some more!
  • Suddenly crying over tiny things! such as dropping your favourite pencil. it’s not even broken. but who gives a fuck!


ORDER TODAY! 

Or don’t. You’ll receive it either way!


because there is no escape!

Order now and receive our grab-bag of bonuses! With fan favorites like:

A chance at random bouts of mania where you start ten million new projects but get quickly overwhelmed and none of them get done which drives you into a deeper depression!

A complete disregard for any and all personal hygiene! When was the last time you used your toothbrush? Doesn’t matter, ‘cause you won’t touch it tonight!

Just got your paycheck? Not anymore! Spend as much as you can in a futile attempt to make yourself feel better! You really don’t need that novelty throw pillow, but what if you do?

And there’s more where that came from! Order today!!!

maxiesatanofficial:

maxiesatanofficial:

The opening to “A Tale Of Two Cities” but it’s about thinkpieces on Millennials.

We were The Greatest Generation, we were The Lost Generation; we were a generation of misers and a generation of wastrels, we worked ourselves to death and we did not work at all, we were too delicate and too rough and too reliant on others and too independent and entrepreneurial; we needed to buy more essentials and fewer luxuries unless it was just the other way around; we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way…

In short, this generation was so far like every other, before it and after it, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on us being received, one way or the other, as the final herald of the downfall of all civilization.

bm13:

kristoffs-bizarre-adventure:

stridersgeorg:

jolyneshepard:

dad-rock-davos:

unexplained-events:

In Seattle, Washington, an aged and allegedly “haunted” coke machine has been in the same spot for over fifteen years, but despite its outward appearance the machine is fully functional. In fact, the machine has always worked. Some of the drinks it dispenses are normal Coke products, but some are products that are no longer on the market and don’t exist any more. Some of the buttons are labeled as a “mystery” and give a random product when pushed. The business closest to it, a locksmith, state that they have never witnessed anyone restocking the machine at any time, No one ever has, and the mystery of it has attracted tons of people to test out the machine for themselves. It’s also pretty interesting to note that the prices for the sodas have risen over time, recently being from 55 cents to 75. I guess ghost machines have to pay the bills somehow.

I just looked it up and this is apparently real, what the hell

if this is real i’m going who’s with me

It’s the real life SCP-294

Holy shit it is SCP-294