But this matters: This tumblr is anti-SOPA.
(of course I’m assuming every tumblr would be—come on! It’s Tumblr!)
Easter Egg of the Day: Want to know why Community is getting canceled? Because it’s simply too amazing for this world.
You already know how chock-full of Easter Eggs it is, right? Well, someone just found the best one yet.
It seems that the writers have been sneaking the word “Betelgeuse” into the script of a single episode each season.
Check out what happened when the word was uttered a third time during the show’s Halloween episode, “Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps.” (Hint: Look behind Annie.)
Pure brilliance.
[reddit.]
I finally got it!
(via communitythings)
New 35mm movie projectors are no longer manufactured, for the simple reason that used projectors, some not very old, are flooding the market.
The reason for that is fairly disheartening. Some manufacturers of digital projectors required that existing film projectors must be removed from projection booths before their equipment could be installed. Why? No doubt there was some concocted technical excuse for their underlying reason, to slash and burn the competition. (The distracting gimmick of 3D was used to fuel this campaign.) A great many multiplexes are no longer capable of projecting the 35mm format that has served faithfully since about 1895. One film festival, having received its opening night film from overseas, found no theater in town that could exhibit it.
"(via philphys)
(Source: tale-of-woe, via philphys)
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.