“They estimate that less than 10% of the world is more than two days from the nearest city.” (Human Colonization of the Earth » Sociological Images)
There are just over 100 people in the world serving sentences of life without the possibility of parole for crimes they committed as juveniles in which no one was killed. All are in the United States. And 77 of them are here in Florida
what do you do all day? all night?
nothing.
you don’t read?
no. i pretend to
— anaïs nin
i. politics is not a granad(a) and whipped cream is not vegan.
ii. social war is not an excuse for whitefold indulgence.
iii. orgiastic asphyxiation cannot be poured out of a teacup of jameson.
iv. the grammar of militancy still does not allow for brand names and punkredentials.
v. plastic begets plastic. we support territorial pissing on antiquity now that the walled city has been breached.
vi. we’re tired of consuming flavored marxisms. tomorrow we return to selling condoms in san juan.
vii. mask up, motherfuckers. we can hear the kino sirens approaching.
Your horn. It’s right in front of you. Nothing is more satisfying than that horn sound. I must profess my love for my car horn; It pierces through the thickest, blackest of car windows and even manages to sit above the loudest music any person would be listening to. It also gets that asshole who is on the phone having the worlds most important discussion (so important because he is risking his life and your life by not using a hands-free) who is weaving from lane to lane without using his indicator to look back in his rear vision mirror. The horn travels in all directions. The middle finger does not.
![[HARd17qg1ooeqzk1Ij7I1w0Po1_500.jpg] on vi.sualize.us on we heart it / visual bookmark #836187](http://7.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ksf1s0XwZO1qzozyjo1_400.jpg)
