In Splatoon 2, there are two versions of “Acid Hues,” one used in-game that removes the vocals to the first verse after a full loop, and another used in Squid Beatz 2. I decided to play around with them in Audacity to see if I could get an “acapella” version in that one vocal-less part. The results were not what I was expecting.
Sad update everyone, Tama recently passed away… An estimated 3,000 people, including railway officials, attended Tama the cat’s funeral on Sunday, days after she died of heart failure aged 16. [x]
For those who haven’t read articles about it, the local shrine elevated her to a god. She’s now the Eternal Stationmaster and patron god of the station.
Beautiful.
Now I’m crying thanks
and a new cat was hired right?
yep! her name is Nitama (essentially ”second tama” or “tama II”) and she served under Tama as an apprentice before being appointed her deputy
she works very hard
Everytime this crosses my dash, I reblog. It is the law.
Law
I’m crying at 11pm over train cats
Nitama, already now a mature cat (born 2010), has a protege named Yontama (fourth Tama, b. 2016). There is no information available for either the physical befellment or tragic self-disgrace which has removed Santama from contention.
^Nitama majestic, and below with Yontama
Yontama.
a legacy
I’d just like to add that there is a ‘Santama’, whose name was ‘SUNtamatama’ (the capitalisation is not my own, it’s in the actual name). They were sent to Okayama prefecture for station-master training. The Okayama PR rep Mister/Ms Y, who was looking after SUNtamatama then refused to let go of the cat, saying something along the lines of, “This child is ours and I will not let them go, they will stay in Okayama”, and so SUNtamatama remained in Okayama.
Sometimes I think about how the way I met my wife was like a fanfiction
We both had a scholarship to a college soccer team and were the only two competing for center forward, we hit it off instantly and became close friends right away. When our team went to nationals, we had to share a bed and ended up snuggling (and I was, up until that point, absolutely not a physically affectionate person). After we returned home I kept sneaking into her room because I couldn’t sleep without her. Our friends started accusing us of being together and talking crap so, to spite them, we thought it would be a good idea to fake date and sometimes held hands and stuff. We ended up kissing right before she left the country for almost a month and we basically pretended it never happened, and when she came back it happened again and again and then escalated. Cue these lines, verbatin:
Me: *grabs the hand heading between my legs* “Wait, wait.” *sighs, drops forehead to hers* “We’re idiots.”
Her, breathlessly, eyes on my lips: “I’ve always been an idiot.” *swoops in for another kiss*
We ended up taking and decide to be friends with benefits, but JUST kissing benefits, no sex, and then 5 minutes later we had sex. We sleep together for a couple weeks (all the time, any and everywhere) before deciding to make it official, then after another couple weeks say I love you (initially via her closing her eyes and moving her palm from her heart to mine back and forth like a useless lesbian), then about a month later talk about how we wanna get married.
Fast forward a year and we go to university together and we’re roommates. Fast forward four years and we’re married and eloping to Harry Potter World and the beach. Fast forward almost 7 years from when we met and we’re living in the same hometown we first met in and she’s the assistant coach for the team we used to play for. Sex life better than ever (“that much great sex all the time after years together in fics is unrealistic” my ass), I can’t cook for shit but I try, we ride bikes around town and we’re basically the only gays in the village and there’s a little rainbow statue on the outside of our windowsill.
7 years ago I was so in love with her I could barely breathe, and I love her a thousand times more now than I did then.
My favorite thing about this is that Dottie is getting fucking object concealment tips from these genius food-stealing women and she’s probably using that knowledge to hide idek small thermonuclear devices in her bra or something. Probably went back to the Red Room afterward like “omg girls let me teach you what I learned in America. It’s vital we teach our tiny assassins to knit, I met a woman who successfully concealed a whole chicken in her sweater, they’ll need this kind of ingenuity in the field.”
I also really love that this is a large group of women who unabashedly like food and eating. None of them are going “oh no my diet, what if I get fat?”, they’re like “I CAN FIT A CHICKEN IN MY SWEATER AND THEN LATER, I HAVE A WHOLE CHICKEN FOR ME.”
I’ve reblogged this before and seen it at least a dozen times, but every time I see “AND THEN LATER, I HAVE A WHOLE CHICKEN FOR ME.” I start ugly laughing and can’t stop and frighten the dog.
Remember that these women grew up during the depression. A lot of them probably learned food hoarding tactics because they never knew when their next meal was going to be. So yeah, if you have the chance to shove an entire chicken in your sweater so later, when there is suddenly *no food*? You’re gonna take it.
Also, Peggy is British. She’s shocked and a little appalled at these food-stealing women, because Britain had such heavy rationing during the war.
British rationing did not end until 1954 (that’s still 8 years away from the time this scene takes place). Rations applied to all food staples, soap, clothing, fuel, and paper. In some cases, they became worse or more stringent after the war. In 1946, when this story takes place, Britain instituted bread rationing for the first time, food packages weighing more than 5lbs from foreign countries sent to private citizens were subtracted from that citizen’s ration book (so decreasing the amount of food they could buy), and gas was rationed again. While America also rationed during the War, the rations were never as severe as the ones in the UK and were lifted immediately after peace was declared.
Peggy’s reaction is “I would never betray my country by stealing food.”
Reblogging for history lesson. I feel like a lot of people don’t know just how bad things got in the UK for a while. Sugar, eggs and fat were so heavily rationed that there were recipes for cakes made with paraffin – in other words, mineral oil.
Rationing of meat actually continued until 1954, when my father was two years old. So there’s some food for thought, pun not intended.
There’s a reason why history books and memoirs from people who lived through the war often make such a fuss about the stuff the American soldiers brought over to the UK during the war.
These people had access to nylonstockings at a time when the fashion for British girls was to paint their legs brown with gravy and then draw on a fake seam with eyeliner pencil.
Yes, this actually was a thing that happened.
There’s a story that, after hearing how much people were complaining about rationing, Churchill asked to see how much the average person was actually being given.
When they showed him, he said he didn’t see what all the fuss was about. That amount of food a day would be perfectly alright for him.
He was then told that the food in front of him was actually meant to last a week.
An increasing number of South Korean women are choosing not to marry, not to have children, and not even to have relationships with men. With the lowest fertility rate in the world, the country’s population will start shrinking unless something changes.
“I have no plans to have children, ever,” says 24-year-old Jang Yun-hwa, as we chat in a hipsterish cafe in the middle of Seoul.
“I don’t want the physical pain of childbirth. And it would be detrimental to my career.”
Like many young adults in South Korea’s hyper-competitive job market, Yun-hwa, a web comic artist, has worked hard to get where she is and isn’t ready to let all that hard graft go to waste.
“Rather than be part of a family, I’d like to be independent and live alone and achieve my dreams,” she says.
…
When I put it to her that if she and her contemporaries don’t have children her country’s culture will die, she tells me that it’s time for the male-dominated culture to go.
“Must die,” she says, breaking into English. “Must die!”
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