Glass Gem is a unique strain of
corn with kernels that look like
pieces of rainbow-colored glass. Source
Carl Barnes, an Oklahoma farmer, started growing older corn varieties to connect with his Cherokee heritage.
He isolated ancestral strains Native American tribes lost in the 1800s when they were relocated to Oklahoma.
Soon he began exchanging ancient corn seed with growers from all over the country, while simultaneously saving and replanting seeds from the most colorful cobs.
This eventually resulted in rainbow-colored corn.
When the rainbow corn mixed with the traditional varieties it created new strains, displaying more vibrant colors and patterns over time.
Glass Gem is a flint corn, so it isn’t really eaten off the cob. It’s usually ground into cornmeal and used in tortillas or grits, but it can also be used to make popcorn.
I always approve of ladies having a chill time with dragons. Who needs to be a damsel in distress?
artist unknown
Art source: Dragon Resting Its Head On The Lap Of A Woman – R. Leinweber (1912)
I love this picture because the body language (human and draconic) reminds me so much of when the dog decides she really, really needs to be at least half in my lap while I’m chilling with my computer.
Like, the dragon is all I adore you so much please pet behind my ears please and the lady is just sigh fine you always do this and I was going to get up for a glass of water but I guess I kind of love you too.
why are there so many posts about asexuals being immune to sirens. people. sirens don’t lure you in with sex (necessarily). they sing about whatever it is that you want most. they could sing about mothman or cinnamon toast crunch and guess what then your asexual pirate is fucking dead
this is the only kind of ace discourse i ever want to see on my dash. the only kind. ever again. good job
Do you think the sirens would be grateful that they finally get some variety?
“Oh my god we can finally just sing about pasta thank the fucking gods.”
I’m not asexual but I’m fairly certain sirens would do a far better job luring me into the depths with a song about pasta rather than sex…
I mean.
“WHAT THE FUCK STAY AWAY FROM THE ROCKS.”
“FUCKER THEY SAID THEY HAVE FETTUCCINE CARBONARA AND HOT GARLIC BREAD OVER THERE HANG ON BITCH.”
This is true; Odysseus heard them promising him knowledge of the future. So the next time you see artwork like this:
Remember those sultry naked chicks are saying “We’ll tell you the winning lotto numbers.”
Them: “We have unlimited wifi at incredible speeds~” Me: *diving headfirst into the water*
I love this post
Them: hey man if you jump into the water you’ll fucking drown Me: i’m all in baby
“Away with you!” I exclaimed, swinging an oar toward the unyielding siren
“Oh, but we have anything you could ever want,” she cooed. I shook my head.
“I want for nothing! There is nothing you could offer me!” The siren paused for a moment.
“Dank Memes,” she said, “The Dankest Memes you co–” Her sentence was cut short by my epic cannonball into the water.
What if somebody combined the drum solo of Phil Collins’ “in the air tonight” and the chorus of Toto’s “Africa” it would probably summon some sort of celestial being in sunglasses and a leather jacket
why is it always that the sign that the robot/AI is becoming ~*too human*~ is when they fall in looove
give me a robot who realizes they’ve ~*exceeded their programmed parameters*~ when they get incredibly emotionally attached to their favorite movie and start writing fanfiction about it
A robot that gets into an editing war on Wikipedia because this other person is wrong and not citing sources and clearly biased and no it will do that calculations later because this is important.
A robot who doesn’t like one scientist because it thinks her hair is stupid.
A robot that finds logical paradoxes meant to disable it incredibly funny as if they’re jokes and comes up with its own.
A robot that develops a deep interest with a random trivial object like doorbells, dice, or ribbons and devotes a lot of its processing power to studying them. Fascinating.
A robot that was broken down for a while until some animal nested inside it and after it was repaired it was honored that an organic creature chose it as its shelter.
A robot that likes the class of the human-visible electromagnetic spectrum designated as ‘aquamarine’ (#66CDAA) and surrounds itself with this colour as much as possible, even collecting (or stealing) all objects of this colour. Similar colours like sea blue or teal will not be accepted.
I don’t know you op so I’m sorry to add this to your post but it’s a relevant story that still fucks me up to this day.
My sister lives in Brooklyn and has a bunch of hipster friends of course. One of her roommates organized this potluck for Christmas while I was visiting my sister. So everyone brings in good food that takes actual effort to make but then this one fucker just comes in with a raw onion. And he puts the onion out to be served and I’m sitting there like what in the fucking world did you just find that on the street walking here or something. And I was waiting for people to be like “dude fuck off I made a quiche and you think it’s chill to just being an onion?” But no. I guess this hipster group wanted to act unfazed as hell so they all just start talking about how they love eating raw onions. I’m ready to die and then the roommate slices the onion in front of everybody and then the guests start chewing down. They were eating it like it was chips or some shit. So I gave in and took a bite and it’s not a sweet onion. It’s a plain ass bitter acidic notoriously terrible when raw onion. For the rest of the party I just sat on the couch silently mesmerized by the power of groupthink because it felt like I had accidentally walked into the orgy scene in Eyes Wide Shut.
oh my fucking god
Today the Internet told me woodchucks aren’t woodpeckers and that phrase isn’t about woodpeckers and how apparently they are not actually pecking wood, just like how ostriches are faking it.
Anyway holy fuck I have to reevaluate my life now bc apparently I was a really dumb kid.
Someone left a diet pepsi can on the empty table next to us and a person walked by it on the way to our table. They looked at it curiously, then anxiously touched it and then scurried to our table saying ‘YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH THE ART AND I TOUCHED THE ART!’
So we had a long discussion about dadaism and what is art and is art art and what makes an art an art and how the majority of artist’s statements are complete and utter bullshit fabricated to fill an arbitrary word count.
It should be mentioned that this person worked in an art museum and that we are both went to art school. We are certainly qualified to expound upon the 2% reduced fat fuckery that is art movements.
So when our visitor left our table, my girlfriend grabbed an index card and made the art official art.
If it’s still there tomorrow after the cleaning crew has been through, then its is now official art art that goes in an art art museum. If it is gone, then someone has TOUCHED THE ART.
And that is part of the art.
The act of the janitor tossing it in the bin… is a statement on art.
We all think we’re god-damned hilarious.
Well, someone came by in the morning and removed the soda can, but left the label.
Then later in the day, someone saw the tag and decided to put a Coke bottle there.
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