This is why he’s my bias. Humor, he gets it.
What if Millennials’ aversion to car-buying isn’t a temporary side effect of the recession, but part of a permanent generational shift in tastes and spending habits? It’s a question that applies not only to cars, but to several other traditional categories of big spending—most notably, housing. And its answer has large implications for the future shape of the economy—and for the speed of recovery.
Read more. [Image: Kagan McLeod]
It’s safe to say that a decent number of Tumblr users are a part of the Millennial generation. So, tell us: Do you own a car or house? If not, why?
IT’S BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO DISPOSABLE INCOME YOU THUNDERING IDIOTS. Fucking preference has nothing to do with it. 50% of college graduates have no job! They all have the most student loan debt ever! What are you asking this question for?!
Also: housing is a good bit more expensive now.
My parents got a 15-year mortgage on a new house in the mid-70s. The house was $32,000. Average home price in that area now? $190,000.
So, home prices went up. Food prices went up. Health care prices went WAY UP. Rent prices went up. Higher education went up so damn high that some of us forgo that all together. Energy prices went up. Car prices went up.
Prices of prices went up.
We also pay cell phone bills, internet bills, data plans, text plans, online subscriptions, cable/satellite tv, netflix, DVR subscriptions — bills that didn’t even exist 30-40 years ago. We also use computers and smartphones and microwaves and other consumer electronics that didn’t exist 20-50 years ago.
We need medications and doctors and contact lenses and tampons and maxi pads and other things that cost money just to be alive and keep us healthy.
Most of us can’t afford to:
- Get married and have a “Traditional” big wedding
- Buy a house
- Buy a new car
- PLAN to have children
- Take two, consecutive weeks of vacation.
Jobs that paid 50k in the late 1990s now pay between 30-35. Interest rates that favor consumers have gone down.
So I say, no. We are not choosing not to buy homes. We’re not choosing to take the bus in cities where there’s no good public transit. WE ARE NOT CHOOSING TO LIVE WHAT SOCIETY DEEMS AS AN UNDESIRABLE LIFESTYLE.
Don’t even get me started on the fact that these two people in the picture are young white hipsters. Young black and brown folks have been forgoing homeownership and buying new cars for decades, this shit isn’t new, pal. You’re just acting like this shit is new because it’s hitting white folks.
anyway, my point is: We are fucking broke.
read the commentary above ^^
“My poor baby” I whisper tenderly to 30+ year old man on a tv show
“My poor baby” I whisper tenderly to 1 000 000 000+ year old angel on a tv show
“My poor baby” I whisper tenderly to 900+ year old alien on a tv show.
“My poor baby” I whisper tenderly to 1000+ year old Norse God in a movie.
“oh my god I’m never having one of those” I whisper tenderly to a baby
Kirsty Mitchell’s late mother Maureen was an English teacher who spent her life inspiring generations of children with imaginative stories and plays. Following Maureen’s death from a brain tumour in 2008, Kirsty channelled her grief into her passion for photography.
She retreated behind the lens of her camera and created Wonderland, an ethereal fantasy world. The photographic series began as a small summer project but grew into an inspirational creative journey.
‘Real life became a difficult place to deal with, and I found myself retreating further into an alternative existence through the portal of my camera,’ said the artist. (read the rest here).
fucking work. insane.
SHE PAINTED HERSELF IN BLACK & WHITE HOW FUCKING AMAZING IS THAT
girl betta werk looking like a 50’s sitcom extra! Yassss
this is giving me so much life
So fucking cool!
[tw: cissexism, sexual harassment, implied rape]
You wanna be Peter Pan.
You wanna be that fairy-dusted disaster that conquers Hook and slays pirates because that’s what strong boys do.
But they gave you a dress, and a name to match, and a lot of pink stuff you’d never play with.
You loved action figures just as much as dolls (yeah, you love dolls, don’t lie).
You don’t walk like a lady though.
You flunked ballet class.
“You can’t go, it’s boys only.”
“Don’t wear swimming trunks, wear a bathing suit.”
“You’re too old to be a tomboy! GROW UP.”
You can’t fly. You never will.
Even days when you’re wearing the perfect clothes
people will stare and say, “Is that a girl or a boy?”
And you smile to yourself because today,
maybe you might just pass,
but then you see their eyes register no facial hair,
no knot in your throat, no bulge in your pants, they say it again.
“IS THAT A GIRL OR A BOY?”
This time they know and they just wanna see you squirm
and you do and they snicker and give you that look that says, “You aren’t human here.”
You’re stuck with the body you’ve got and the gender you don’t
There’s no fairy dust
No flying away
No childhood dreams
So you’re doing the best you can.
You rock your indecisive parts proudly,
but there are days when you can be shattered by a quick tongue.
Days when men argue about the lines of your body, and then one says, “It’s got tits.”
because you’re not worthy of any other title.
Days when girls will hate you for what you are
whatever you are
you aren’t human here.
But I’ve got tits.
So on that day when he said to me,
“I don’t care if you’re gay, I’d still fuck the shit out of you,”
I should’ve been willing, right?
But I wasn’t.
So I walked faster trying to escape his leering face,
the look of malice in his eyes that I’ve seen in so many other men
“I’ll fuck you straight, girl.”
I don’t know how much of a girl
I am but at that moment I wished I had the knuckle strength of men.
But I don’t, so I left my pride in this throat,
I would try to glue myself back together for tomorrow
because there are always gonna be days like this.
Days when you have to carry your somber heart like a coffin,
days when you pass until you slip and let your words fall from your mouth carried by a feminine voice and they know again.
Know that you’re not a him, or a her, but something in between, not human to them.
What an abomination. What a monster.
Why can’t you be normal with your dress, your boyfriend, your virginity?
They wanna paint you the color of smashed hymens.
They want you to know that naked, you will always be soft like a woman;
naked, you will always have the parts of a woman,
you, IT, your telltale breasts
you will NEVER be one of those strong boys.
you are far from Peter Pan but learn to hold your back like a flagpole,
it’s all you’ve got out there.
there’s no Neverland.
poetry makes me cry
I have to report my professor. This just made me realize.
witnesses of the end of the world
#it’s the difference in their Doctors; it’s the difference in their arcs #everyone says that Clara looks like a mirror image of Rose #and perhaps in a lot of ways she is - but it’s a horror story #the Doctor leaves her alone in these nightmares time and time again #she sees the end of the world and she is horrified at his - lack #his cheery apathy #towards the deaths of the ghosts that live around him #For Rose and Nine though #the end of the world is melancholic - yes #but it’s also full of life and joy #the knowledge that mankind will go on; has stretched across the stars #and ultimately they watch the world end together #they make it a beginning #a personal intimate moment #strangely beautiful #about the endlessness of the universe and how very very small yet so so important humans are to its stars #it’s the start of healing and love #Clara and the Doctor have nothing like that #because while Nine was damaged - Nine was present #fully #and Eleven is just slipping away behind his impossible girls and his love stories hidden in a ghost mansion #he’s about the puzzles and the hidden things#never the emotions #never the people #Clara is already beginning to suffer for it #she realizes that though she said it - ‘I don’t want to be compared to a ghost’ - there’s not much else people can be to this Doctor #just fun spicy diversions he pops off to see in his little blue box (neverfeedthesarcophagi)