needsmoreexplosions:

ofswordsandpens:

ofswordsandpens:

idk why people get super pedantic about the movie logic in Home Alone and start and try to pick it apart, because like, its a Christmas movie about a child accidentally being left home alone, the premise isn’t exactly asking us to suspend our disbelief that much, and yet nearly every single “gotcha” question I see people bring up about this film is literally answered within the first 15 minutes

“seriously how did no one in the family not realize Kevin wasn’t there?” everyone was rushing so they wouldn’t miss the flight but also every other single contingency measure in place became useless: Kevin wasn’t supposed to be alone that night but they moved his cousin to a different bed, Kevin’s passport was accidentally thrown away by his dad the night before, the neighbor boy threw off the older cousin’s head count so she ended up with the “correct” number of kids before they left the house, they dropped the plane tickets at the terminal, the parents sat in a different class than the kids on the plane

“why didn’t Kevin go to the police, the neighbors, etc” his neighbors are also on vacation, the phone lines are down, and if seeing the weird guy stalking his house several days earlier as a police officer wasn’t enough to make him suspicious of the cops, he also literally thinks he made his family disappear. like magically, supernaturally, willed them out of existence. and he’s eight, so

also he accidentally stole a toothbrush from the store and when you’re eight years old that means the police are going to put you in jail forever

worldbuilding-tomfoolery:

asmuchasidliketo:

parrhesiac:

drtanner:

iosonomer-blog:

GO BABY GO

I love this. I *love* this.

Not only does the child have the rhythm and their part down precisely, but also, they are clearly doing the very-small-child thing of reserving exactly nothing.

Children have to learn not to use all of the force they’re capable of, adults mostly never use all of the force they are capable of, but here someone has given this child exactly the opportunity to use all of the force their body can produce, and do it musically.

The glee of that all-out effort in a context where clearly the people around them approve and appreciate their contribution? Amazing.

Took some searching, but I found him!

His name is Hinata and he’s a 5th generation Taiko drummer who was born in September (maybe October) 2020, so he’s about 3 ½ in this video.

THAT is hitting your feelings with sticks!!!!!

iosonomer-blog:

everetterice:

cheekybug2:

only-tiktoks:

unpretty:

gautierprotectionsquad:

quoms:

“The big learning is that if you want to kill someone, you can kill them. It’s really scary but true,” said the executive, who spoke on the condition of anonymity. “It seems crazy that we’re just figuring this out.”

“Security is a sunk cost. It doesn’t make companies money, so it’s an easy place to cut at budget time,” said Krummrich, the Global Guardian executive. “You can ride the risk and hope nothing happens. But if it does, you have a much bigger problem emotionally, financially and optics-wise for the brand than if you invest in security up front.”

this is the quote that’s really sending me.

security is expensive, but being shot in the street like a dog is bad for the brand, so there’s pros and cons

catrinecat:

mylordshesacactus:

mylordshesacactus:

mylordshesacactus:

So my family has a Gay Pirate Plate.

Stay with me.

We do not know how the hell the Gay Pirate Plate was first acquired. This being a point of contention is actually pretty plot-relevant; the saga of the Gay Pirate Plate began with my grandmother and her sister, who, for some ungodly reason, both BADLY wanted the Gay Pirate Plate and believed it to be rightfully theirs.

I should back up, firstly, to establish: The Gay Pirate Plate is the cheapest, tackiest, ugliest plate in existence.

It is in no way a collector’s item. It is physically impossible for it to complement anyone’s decor, because the colors in it are garish. It’s just a ceramic plate with a gay pirate painted on it, and the painting is, this cannot be emphasized enough, extremely bad.

(How do we know the pirate is gay if he’s just posing on a plate? Listen. Fully 100% to stereotype, but he is. He is gay. There’s an energy. That pirate is a flaming homosexual. That pirate has sex with men and does it frequently. That pirate is fucking gay, all right, he just is.)

Anyway. The point is that this is an extremely cheap and ugly plate with a poorly-executed painting of pirate on it who is like a nine on the Kinsey scale.

My grandmother and her sister fought a blood feud over this plate for their entire lives. It would be on the wall in my grandma’s house, and then her sister would visit, and then it would be gone. She’d visit her sister and the plate would be on the wall and her sister would pretend it had always been there. She would steal it back, hang it up, and, when her sister visited, pretend it had always been there. This continued for DECADES.

When the sister died, the Gay Pirate Plate lived triumphantly in my grandmother’s house. And then my grandmother died. And my aunt, who had lived with her and been her carer throughout her life, rightfully inherited their house.

We visit my aunt after the funeral and stay with her for a week or two.

Me, my sister, and our dad. Her brother.

The three of us look at each other. We don’t say anything. We studiously avoid making eye contact with the Gay Pirate Plate mounted proud and ugly on the wall. We notice one another studiously avoiding looking at it. We notice one another noticing. We say nothing. We come to a silent consensus. We pack up to leave. We get in the van. Our aunt comes out to say goodbye. I loudly announce I need to use the restroom before we leave. She obviously stays outside to continue talking to my dad.

I take down the Gay Pirate Plate, stuff it under my oversized sweatshirt, go outside, and get in the van. She happily waves goodbye as we drive off.

Two days later my dad gets a phone call that opens with hysterical laughter and “You FUCKING ASSHOLE did you seriously STEAL THE PLATE–”

Anyway. The gay pirate plate lives in my dad’s house currently.

But he’s trying to get me and my sister out to visit him. And plate mounts are cheap.

The rules of Gay Pirate Plate are simple by the way.

1. The plate must be clearly and openly displayed in a place of great prominence whenever it is in your possession. When it is not in your possession, the display piece must remain in place. This is where you would put your gay pirate plate, IF YOU HAD ONE.
2. No active steps may be taken to prevent the theft of the Gay Pirate Plate. That goes against the spirit of the game, as does attempting to hide it.
3. The plate MUST be stolen and cannot be gifted or removed with permission. Should you witness attempted theft of the Gay Pirate Plate you are required to intervene and return it to its place.
4. Every time your sibling successfully absconds with the Gay Pirate Plate, you must respond with indignant fury, as if you have not also repeatedly and blatantly stolen the Gay Pirate Plate.

WOE

PLATE BE UPON YE

OH HE GAY AS HELL

depsidase: