come waste your time with me

464 notes

inothernews:

rosa—sparks:

riversideandstockton:

ipomoeaandthestarstealers:

justaturnofthedial:

maxistentialist:

Han Nguyen:

“Amercia‬” is one reason why the Romney campaign needs a new copy editor. Here’s another.


that parallel structure will get you every time
and so will your family members apparently

That is not the Amercia of my dreams.

I don’t know, some Thanksgivings I just want to go all Dangerous Game on my kin.

Amercia - Land of the Free and Home of the Heavily Armed Granny Agnes.

Also it looks like there’s a kinky three-way going on in that stylized “R.”

inothernews:

rosa—sparks:

riversideandstockton:

ipomoeaandthestarstealers:

justaturnofthedial:

maxistentialist:

Han Nguyen:

“Amercia‬” is one reason why the Romney campaign needs a new copy editor. Here’s another.

that parallel structure will get you every time

and so will your family members apparently

That is not the Amercia of my dreams.

I don’t know, some Thanksgivings I just want to go all Dangerous Game on my kin.

Amercia - Land of the Free and Home of the Heavily Armed Granny Agnes.

Also it looks like there’s a kinky three-way going on in that stylized “R.”

1 note

reading The Master and Margarita

At the same moment something flashed like fire in Azazello’s hands, and there was a soft noise, like a hand clap, and the baron started to fall backwards, as scarlet blood spurted from his chest and soaked his starched shirt and vest. Korovyov held the goblet under the pulsing stream, and when it was full, he gave it to Woland. By that time the baron’s lifeless body was already on the floor.

Woland…walked quickly over to Margarita, raised the goblet to her lips, and in a commanding voice said, ‘drink!’

Margarita’s head began to spin, she swayed, but the goblet was already at her lips, and voices, whose she could not tell, whispered in both her ears, ‘don’t be afraid, Your Majesty…don’t be afraid, Your Majesty, the blood has already seeped down into the earth. And there where it spilled, clusters of grapes are already growing.’

What a strange and beautiful book.

Filed under mikhail bulgakov