Tag: america

elphabaforpresidentofgallifrey:

inkandcayenne:

wilfulwayfarer:

rasec-wizzlbang:

dalaisa-katili:

local-emo-mom:

anarcho-individualist:

explanatorypower:

i dont understand this at all and america scares the fuck out of me

This is the america they don’t want you to see

i love america

This is what you call Waffle House at 2 am when the bars close and everyone is drunk and hungry

*group of people having fun*
this site: wtf this is so scary

People having safe fun at a waffle house is scary for most Tumblr bloggers, reports say.

Some context for those not familiar with Waffle House Culture: 

  • Waffle House is one of the few chains in America that’s open 24/7/365, and where you can get both breakfast and lunch/dinner options at any time (I have had so many Breakfast Cheeseburgers at Waffle Houses). The food is really good, and people eat there at all times of the day or night, but it’s particularly popular as a late-night post-drinking spot because it’s all that’s open and it’s the kind of food that tastes especially good when you’re hammered.
  • Part of Waffle House Protocol is that all the servers and cooks greet every single customer as they come through the door. It sounds lame, but I’ve never been to a Waffle House where that greeting didn’t feel completely heartfelt. My mom is a health nut who could barely find anything on the menu she was willing to eat and yet she describes the Christmas Day lunch we had there one year as one of the nicest meals she’s ever had because everyone was so warm and welcoming. That sense of camaraderie gets turned up to 11, of course, at 2 a.m. when everyone’s shitfaced.
  • The jukeboxes have Waffle-House-themed songs on them (once you have heard “Raisins in my Toast” you will be earwormed forever) and there is an arcane system of hash brown ordering: scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, topped, diced, peppered, and/or capped. The hot sauce bottles say “Casa de Waffle.” 
  • Once, in Oxford (UK), my husband and I walked past a kebab van very late one night and he said “why do I smell Waffle House”
  • The location of most Waffle Houses means there’s some… classism that tends to get tied up with Anti-Waffle House Discourse, which is probably lending itself, in part, to this being such a fraught topic. (I’m looking at a map and apparently I was born and raised right in the middle of the Peak Waffle House Density Zone)
  • It is, in the words of chef Anthony Bourdain, “indeed marvelous— an irony-free zone where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts; where everybody regardless of race, creed, color or degree of inebriation is welcomed.”

there’s also the Waffle House Index, basically an informal index used by FEMA (the US federal disaster agency) to determine how bad a storm is – green (the waffle house is still open), yellow (waffle house is open with a limited menu), and red (WAFFLE HOUSE IS CLOSED OH MY GOD): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waffle_House_Index

fievelthefruitcakemouse:

crystallinecrow:

glamourcat28:

theexistentiallyqueer:

saathi1013:

stonecoldfemme:

sonneillonv:

copperhamster:

conquerorwurm:

banana0042:

maybeware:

fantastigasmical:

kaci3po:

watergender:

psychicdictatorship:

the aesthetic of american far right christianity is horrifying

run-down signs screaming about hell in the middle of nowhere is my aesthetic though

You don’t know true pants-shitting fear until you’re driving in the middle of nowhere, not a single sign of civilization as far as the eye can see, haven’t seen another living being in three hours, and then out of nowhere suddenly looms a half-destroyed barn with the words “HELL IS REAL” painted on what remains of the roof.

I’ll be honest, you could say most of these were from a horror game and I wouldn’t doubt you. 

Implying America isn’t a horror game lately.

America isn’t a game. It is just a horror.

image

Visible from i-40, between Interstate 40 and old Route 66, the Groom, TX cross

Englewood Ohio

@saathi1013

#i feel like you would appreciate this

YEP.

hey so fun fact about that last one

it’s located right by the I-75 highway and anyone driving in or out of cincinnati could see it from the road and it was horrifying the first time i saw it because i felt like i was about to die.

the statue was called king of kings, but i only ever heard it referred to as touchdown jesus. just imagine yourself kicking a football through those lofty open arms…..ohio 1, satan 0.

in 2010 touchdown jesus was very sadly struck by lightning and burned down, possibly because so many heathens were calling him touchdown jesus and imagining playing football with the lord. or possibly because that’s just what happens when you build a giant styrofoam and fiberglass statue next to an artificial pond on a hill in the middle of rural ohio.

fortunately our good friends down in englewood have contingency plans for god’s wrath and the end of the world, so they built a new statue named lux mundi. unfortunately, lux mundi is not as amped to play football.

but he does look like he’s down for hugs.

RIP, touchdown jesus. we miss you. 😢

The skeletal remains of touchdown Jesus is one of the more horrifying things I’ve seen.

I’m glad someone took the time to share the glory that is touch down jesus. Bless.

My favorite thing about the dystopian christianity of the bible belt is that its always interspersed with signs for adult emporiums

Sign *SEX SEX SEX*
Sign “REPENT SINNER”
Sign “LIONS DEN ADULT GOODS”
Sign “Culvers next two exits, more cheese curds than you need in your entire life
Sign “GOD WAITS FOR YOU CHILD”
Sign *blond woman positively bursting out of her nighty* “MORE PORN THAN ANYWHERE AROUND”

chacaltaya:

hesatreat:

abandonedandurbex:

Failed suburban development plan in California City, CA, photo by Chang Kim [990×742]

Source: https://openpics.aerobatic.io/

sit down, kids, i’m gonna tell you a fucking story about california city.

imagine it’s the 1960s. we’re gonna fucking go to SPACE and there’s hella people who wanna OWN LAND because if you own land then you’re rich and shit. everybody wants to own land in the 1960s. owning land is like the iPhone of the 1960s, and nat mendelsohn knows it.

“yo,” nat says to himself one day, “nobody lives in the mojave desert and that shit’s basically like FREE LAND. what if i just buy the mojave desert for real cheap and sell it to people so they can FULFILL THE AMERICAN DREAM and OWN SOME LAND.”

so he bought the mojave desert and did exactly that.

(historical accuracy note: nat did not buy the entire mojave desert. he did buy a huge fucking chunk of it, though, so the statement ‘he bought the mojave desert’ is accurate, if slightly misleading.)

once nat had bought the mojave desert, he split it up into a bunch of lots and drew some roads and put in some street signs so it looked like the first five minutes of when you’re playing the sims and you haven’t actually built any buildings yet but you’re trying to plan out where the fuck your house is gonna go and where your shitty neighbors are gonna go.

with like ¼th of a city planned, nat then had huge planefuls of people flown in so he could show him all the streets and shit he’d marked out for his city and hopefully sell them a piece of this city. they were gonna have a huge park and swimming pools and white picket fences and it was gonna be AWESOME. 

he made BOATFULS OF MONEY selling these plots of land. everyone fucking owned a california city plot. my own great-grandmother owned a california city plot. it was gonna be BIGGER THAN LOS ANGELES and they could all build cute lil cookie cutter 1960s houses and plant lawns and have backyard barbecues with the fam. california city was gonna be POPPIN’, but everyone had to move there first.

this is where nat’s choice of making a city in the middle of the desert was REALLY FUCKING STUPID.

kids, if you’ve never been to a desert then it’s gonna be impossible to explain why moving to the middle of the mojave desert is a stupid fucking plan. instead, i’ll just tell you this: california city is located just 65 miles from DEATH VALLEY NATIONAL PARK, which is the hottest place on the face of the earth. california city isn’t much cooler than death valley, let me tell you, and even the native los angeles residents who now owned california city plots were kinda rethinking moving to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to be part of this poppin’ new california city.

“fam,” those people said to their squad on the telephone because it’s the 1960s and group chat hasn’t been invented yet, “i dunno about this california city thing. yeah, my boy nat says it’s gonna be LIT but also it’s in the mojave desert and i’m not sure if he mean lit like ‘turned up’ or lit like ‘your ass is gonna be lit on fire if you try to sit down in this hundred degree heat.’ maybe we should just move to burbank. at least they have movie stars and shit plus i don’t gotta build a whole fucking house.”

so nobody but like three people moved into california city.

(historical accuracy note: it was like three hundred people, but that makes it sound impressive for those of you that come from places where three hundred people living in bumfuck nowhere is actually a lot of people living in bumfuck nowhere so please just imagine three people, by themselves, in the desert. way more accurate representation of how many people actually showed up versus were supposed to show up.)

those three people sure built a functional, working city, though. they got an AIRPORT! they got a BASEBALL TEAM! they got the EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE nearby, so everyone’s got jobs! all the borax for those middle school kids that are selling slime probably comes from the BORAX MINE in california city! and by golly they got their fucking park.

it’s a cool place, aside from the fact that it always feels like you’re being cooked alive in an oven except for in the winter when it’s fucking freezing because deserts want to kill you no matter what season it is.

and that’s the story of why california’s third largest city has less than fifteen thousand people living in it. 

TL;DR: local man ran successful kickstarter for a planned city but found out if you don’t actually build it, they ain’t gonna come.

this reads like a bill wurtz video and the all caps are the jingles