Dan Meehan


Psychologist for children of all ages, reader, music lover, film buff, philosophically inclined, highly interested in fun in all forms.

Ask me anything

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mangomamita:


Corsican vendetta knife with floral detail

che la mia ferita sia mortale"may my wound be deadly"

mangomamita:

Corsican vendetta knife with floral detail

che la mia ferita sia mortale
"may my wound be deadly"

Source: anti-romanticismo

madlori:

jmathieson-fic:

mumblingsage:

decodethefallenmoon:

molokoko:

amazing

Just so everyone is aware, there is a bunch of misleading info being spread around re: ALS research - the “27%” figure is based on previous years’ annual funding; furthermore, the remainder goes to improving the quality of life of those suffering from ALS. Given that the annual funding is approximately 16M, that’s just over 4M spent on decreasing their suffering. It isn’t greed, it’s a lack of money.”

Shut up already.

The ALS Association has a 4-star rating from Charity Watchdog. 

And the next time you start to complain about a charity either a) working on multiple fronts (because that’s what ALSA does—both seeking a cure and helping people suffering now) or b) daring to have administration expenses—let’s see how long you can last, much less tackle a cause, without printer paper and an internet connection. 

As someone who has watched a family member die from a neuro-degenerative disease; funding to develop better wheelchairs and bedsore creams is *just* as important as funding research to cure the disease itself…

A friend of mine posted an update from one of HER friends to FB earlier.  Her dad has ALS.  The ALS foundation came out to see if they could put in a ramp for his wheelchair, but they couldn’t afford it because of the kind of ramp he needed for the kind of house they had.

This week they called back and said hey, the thing is, we suddenly have a bunch of money, so we’re coming out to build that ramp.  And they did.  She posted pics.

So if you feel like bitching about the ice bucket challenge…reconsider.

Source: molokoko

crescentmoon06:

Sunrise in Mt. Fuji, Japan

crescentmoon06:

Sunrise in Mt. Fuji, Japan

assbutt-in-the-garrison:

thephilyptian:

"PALESTINIAN GIRL, YOUNGEST DOCTOR IN THE WORLD"

"When someone enrols in the medicine school that one of the longest schooling required profession, by the time they finish school they will be around 30-or at least on their late 20s. But not for this girl; Eqbal Asa’d is a Palestinian Muslim woman that started the Medicine school when she was just 14 years old, ‘myhijab.info’ reports. Asa’d got her Bachelor degree in Medicine with Honors and was set by the Guinness World Records as the youngest doctor in the World, according to the report. She has been signed to go to Ohio, U.S to continue her education even further and become a Pediatrician."  - Source

YOU GUYS SHE IS THE YOUNGEST DOCTOR IN THE WORLD. SHE IS A FEMALE, A MUSLIM AND A MINORITY. AND SHE IS THE YOUNGEST DOCTOR IN THE WORLD. 

WHY ARE WE NOT HEARING MORE ABOUT HER?

you know why.

Source: thephilyptian

powder-charge:

Grateful Dead at Winterland New Years Eve, 1977. Richard Mccaffrey 

What a great night and early morning!

Source: powder-charge

digitalmovie:

The 38 Most Haunting Abandoned Places On Earth.

For Some Reason, I Can’t Look Away…

Source: de4ctivate

extr0verted:

madame-ganj:

this is my dream

It’s emperor kuzko looking at the hill to build his summer palace

This is a lot of peoples’ dream!

extr0verted:

madame-ganj:

this is my dream

It’s emperor kuzko looking at the hill to build his summer palace

This is a lot of peoples’ dream!

Source: tastefullyoffensive

rocknrollfuldead:

click to trip balls

rocknrollfuldead:

click to trip balls

Source: bomboclat-vibes

gratefuldeadnotes:

Dead Notes #8 :: Alligator (5/18/68 Santa Clara, CA)
(Download below!) Welcome to Dead Notes #8 where we find our pranksters steadfast into the pivotal years of 1967 and 1968. Long gone are the proto-psychedelic fuzzy garage jams, replaced with long, exploratory suites awash in subtle instrumental and explosive feedback passages as the band weaves from one song into the next. Deep into the recording of their way-over-budget ‘thick air’ opus, Anthem of the Sun, (which finally sees it’s release in the second half of the year)  they enlist of help of their old friend, later renowned lyricist, Robert Hunter. Hunter, living remotely in Arizona and loaded on LSD, crafts a beautiful, allegorical dig at the riffraff who had recently flocked to San Francisco, aptly entitling it “Alligator”. For his efforts he is handsomely paid $250, which he then blows on a used car as he skips town for the Northwest and a job restringing beads on necklaces. Thankfully, the car breaks down and he instead wanders back to his friends in San Francisco. In turn, “Alligator” becomes a big-teethed, bugged-eyed second set monster as the band morphs into an aggressive 7-day-a-week touring machine.
On the afternoon of May 18, 1968 we find the band pulling double duty with a daytime upcoast gig in Santa Clara, at the Northern California Folk Rock Festival, and a night show at the famed Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles. They are in good company at the festival with Kaleidoscope, Janis Joplin, and their pals in mischief – The Jefferson Airplane, also headlining. The Airplane’s guitarist Jorma Kaukonen had affixed an ad hoc recording setup at the lip of the stage resulting in one of the crudest live tapes from 1968 that is equal parts mind fuck (the sound dips in and out as he moves the setup around the stage creating an ‘altered’ listening experience) and ear splitting, as you can hear every instrumental nook and cranny of a ferocious “Alligator” that begins with a fan’s cosmic wail. Immediately, we’re thrown headfirst into the lysergic bayou as Pigpen waxes about bad vibes with a calliope stained organ lick that Garcia and Lesh blanket with a sea of heavy notes. As quick as the first section violently strikes with a gnashing of teeth, the band drops out as Mickey Hart chases Billy Kreutzmann’s staccatoed drumming and the ‘Rhythm Devils’ feed a boiling cauldron of swampy, voodoo marching band percussion that soon explodes like a cannonball into the jam. Weir cuts thick slabs of rhythm as the group propels into a hyper jam with Garcia chasing the reptilian tail, nailing every note and chord as fast as possible with hints of Donovan’s “There is a Mountain” – a full year before the Allman’s adopted the theme themselves. Someone starts to scream “ALLIGATOR, ALLIGATOR” as they take a bite into “Caution (Do Not Stop on Tracks)”. Pigpen tries multiple times to slow it down with his “All You Need” rap, but Garcia and Lesh blow right past him while continually punishing the groove as it leads into 4 minutes of “Feedback”. The suite of songs is brutal right up to the end, as the last cymbal rattles out to silence leaving the crowd’s mouths agape and their heads forever skullfucked.
That summer, as the band keeps chooglin’ along, Anthem of the Sun is finally released with a gigantic thud. Garcia, frustrated with the bands creative development, preemptively puts their manager Rock Scully up to the task of  ‘firing’ Weir and Pigpen. Band meetings are had. Ultimatums are given. Band folklore claims Weir and Pigpen were indefinitely out for a unknown period of time leading to all remaining members joining ‘Mickey and the Hartbeats’ for a series of loose but lively gigs at the musician clubhouse-cum-venue, The Matrix. To further complicate their plans of psychedelic world domination, a European tour (and possibly Japan + Australia) is canceled leaving the group another 4 years from conquering the old world. The band finally reconvenes like nothing ever happened. Pigpen has sweetened his piano and organ skills, Bobby has tightened his rhythmic chops and the group is racing towards 1969, quickly adapting their psychedelic prowess for the addition of experimental musician Tom Constanten. But that is a whole another Dead Notes chapter in and of itself.

Grateful Dead :: Alligator (5/18/68, Santa Clara, CA)

gratefuldeadnotes:

Dead Notes #8 :: Alligator (5/18/68 Santa Clara, CA)

(Download below!) Welcome to Dead Notes #8 where we find our pranksters steadfast into the pivotal years of 1967 and 1968. Long gone are the proto-psychedelic fuzzy garage jams, replaced with long, exploratory suites awash in subtle instrumental and explosive feedback passages as the band weaves from one song into the next. Deep into the recording of their way-over-budget ‘thick air’ opus, Anthem of the Sun, (which finally sees it’s release in the second half of the year)  they enlist of help of their old friend, later renowned lyricist, Robert Hunter. Hunter, living remotely in Arizona and loaded on LSD, crafts a beautiful, allegorical dig at the riffraff who had recently flocked to San Francisco, aptly entitling it “Alligator”. For his efforts he is handsomely paid $250, which he then blows on a used car as he skips town for the Northwest and a job restringing beads on necklaces. Thankfully, the car breaks down and he instead wanders back to his friends in San Francisco. In turn, “Alligator” becomes a big-teethed, bugged-eyed second set monster as the band morphs into an aggressive 7-day-a-week touring machine.

On the afternoon of May 18, 1968 we find the band pulling double duty with a daytime upcoast gig in Santa Clara, at the Northern California Folk Rock Festival, and a night show at the famed Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles. They are in good company at the festival with Kaleidoscope, Janis Joplin, and their pals in mischief – The Jefferson Airplane, also headlining. The Airplane’s guitarist Jorma Kaukonen had affixed an ad hoc recording setup at the lip of the stage resulting in one of the crudest live tapes from 1968 that is equal parts mind fuck (the sound dips in and out as he moves the setup around the stage creating an ‘altered’ listening experience) and ear splitting, as you can hear every instrumental nook and cranny of a ferocious “Alligator” that begins with a fan’s cosmic wail. Immediately, we’re thrown headfirst into the lysergic bayou as Pigpen waxes about bad vibes with a calliope stained organ lick that Garcia and Lesh blanket with a sea of heavy notes. As quick as the first section violently strikes with a gnashing of teeth, the band drops out as Mickey Hart chases Billy Kreutzmann’s staccatoed drumming and the ‘Rhythm Devils’ feed a boiling cauldron of swampy, voodoo marching band percussion that soon explodes like a cannonball into the jam. Weir cuts thick slabs of rhythm as the group propels into a hyper jam with Garcia chasing the reptilian tail, nailing every note and chord as fast as possible with hints of Donovan’s “There is a Mountain” – a full year before the Allman’s adopted the theme themselves. Someone starts to scream “ALLIGATOR, ALLIGATOR” as they take a bite into “Caution (Do Not Stop on Tracks)”. Pigpen tries multiple times to slow it down with his “All You Need” rap, but Garcia and Lesh blow right past him while continually punishing the groove as it leads into 4 minutes of “Feedback”. The suite of songs is brutal right up to the end, as the last cymbal rattles out to silence leaving the crowd’s mouths agape and their heads forever skullfucked.

That summer, as the band keeps chooglin’ along, Anthem of the Sun is finally released with a gigantic thud. Garcia, frustrated with the bands creative development, preemptively puts their manager Rock Scully up to the task of  ‘firing’ Weir and Pigpen. Band meetings are had. Ultimatums are given. Band folklore claims Weir and Pigpen were indefinitely out for a unknown period of time leading to all remaining members joining ‘Mickey and the Hartbeats’ for a series of loose but lively gigs at the musician clubhouse-cum-venue, The Matrix. To further complicate their plans of psychedelic world domination, a European tour (and possibly Japan + Australia) is canceled leaving the group another 4 years from conquering the old world. The band finally reconvenes like nothing ever happened. Pigpen has sweetened his piano and organ skills, Bobby has tightened his rhythmic chops and the group is racing towards 1969, quickly adapting their psychedelic prowess for the addition of experimental musician Tom Constanten. But that is a whole another Dead Notes chapter in and of itself.

Grateful Dead :: Alligator (5/18/68, Santa Clara, CA)

kilt-this:

rhymeswithrad:

Paul Fryer

Lucifer (Morning star), 2008

Anodized aluminum, silicon rubber cord,

wax work figure, feathers, concrete

this is the single most painfully beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

Wow!

Source: 2headedsnake