mol-bay:

Jack waiting for the Holler House to open x

(via i-wont-let-mr-jackwhite-rest)

riverwood-elf:

painted this gameboy the other day!

(via not-goth)

jackwhitesturntable:

Jack White makes the world’s fastest record, creates his greatest album, has record vinyl sales on his new album, played his longest concert so far, has the greatest and most creative tour he’s ever done, making groundbreaking innovations for music and music fans everywhere.

His biggest accomplishment: he’s a meme

(via i-wont-let-mr-jackwhite-rest)

wellheyproductions:

omgtsn:

highnoonhex:

mistahgrundy:

kat-reverie:

omgtsn:

a masterpost

fUVK HSDGUJWKEG i love this

SPOOPY BUS

This is actually pissing me off. It has begun to ruin halloween for me knowing people don’t spell check. Things are massed produced in factories and sent out for sale to the public spelt spoopy, doo, and creppy. Like what the actual fuck. My computer even automatically changes spoopy to spooky. I mean, come on. The best holiday season and businesses don’t even care enough about it to spell check the items they’re gonna sell. Fuck this shit.

come on buddy wheres your smngfiehp cheer

image

I just tried to say “SMNGFIEHP” out loud and I snorted.

(Source: omgtsn, via juliassmirkingrevenge)

beyondtheoath:

Sometimes CAH hits too close to home.

(via juliassmirkingrevenge)

yahoochrome:

this is the saddest fucking thing i have ever seen

*facepalm so hard my head falls off*

(via shovelxman)

femme-de-lettres:

Large (Wikimedia)

As the Tate writes, Thomas Benjamin Kennington “was well known for his compelling pictures of the urban poor.”

Kennington painted Homeless in 1890.

He takes a bit of a risk in composing such a deliberately moving scene—he expects to buy with a captured moment what Dickens, for example, purchases with whole chapters of exposition—but to me, Kennington just manages to pull it off.

You might take the woman in black to be the child’s mother, but her mourning clothes are too elegant, her hair too presentable.

She is, for all we can tell, a perfect stranger, who has dropped her bundle of laundry and herself to the wet pavement in order to lift this boy from the pavement—his hat remaining where his head lay moments before.

His weak but arresting gaze is the only sign of life left in him.

(via maiwyn)