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My roommate recently started on an Outkast spree. “Hey Ya” blares on through the speakers and across the room. Reveling in the nostalgia feels glorious. Memories of riding back on the bus from public school in 2003, kids asking the driver to turn up the radio, come flooding back.

It would take endless effort to separate the song from childhood. The same goes with “Ms. Jackson” and “Roses.” I would spend the article space writing a love letter to Outkast and exonerating the good things of the late nineties and early thousands, if I were sure I really loved any of it.

Nostalgia works like a pair of rose-tinted glasses. Something slips them over my eyes whenever I glance at “Mr. Brightside” by the Killers. I loved the song once, do I still love it now? Is my mind caught as much in the music as it is in the past? “Mr. Brightside” remains buried with Outkast and all the old Kanye while modern favorites sit in all my playlists.

After all that time, can any sound penetrate the raw wall of nostalgia laced over each beat? There is no complete way of knowing. If the enjoyment feels sincere, run with it. No one needs another reason than nostalgia. For all the obfuscating it may do, I would not abandon nostalgia. I’d rather the past flow like honey, than sting like a bee.

Rose colored air waves

But each moment of remembrance that made an old song feel so much stronger came to me from the radio. Billboard still got a few in one hundred in my head. Bands formed up vast waterways of sound. Labels became seas opening and genres oceans.

The radio made Somethings float to the top and gloss the surface of sound in every car. The radio formed up rivers of hit songs that we would trace back out to the oceans and seas. I got older and made it out to the ocean more often. I swam to the bottom to pick pearls up from the seafloor. Getting through the radio-pop gloss at the top made it worthwhile.

It seemed to work that way even for my non-musical friends. The most nerve wracking moments came in pooling up the jewels everyone gathered from the deep sea. We got to be explorers breaking through the surface trying to measure our successes using the ears of others.

When the water left my ears those old glossy songs on the surface sounded better then I remembered. The notes rang with radio intervals. Colorful personalities played it out to me. Sitting there, the radio brought plate by plate of commuter music. The rose colored air waves made it age like wine but it still felt less classy than a natty. The pleasure was guilty to the bone.

The radio brought the songs it beat to death back to life in vivid color.

Radio is dead. Long live radio!

Now radio dwindles and old seas grow into oceans. Everybody has a fond memory, and that reverie will create nostalgic ecstasies. With so many more bands, fan groupings, and new scenes I wonder how nostalgia will come of age.

Will kids ditch radio but stick with the top 100s? Perhaps radio will never die, not even faint, ever revived and kept alive to dish musical entrees out of large label kitchens. The kids might socialize it quicker, torrenting CD’s, speeding through discographies to keep friendly. Hit songs might not live long, and maybe memory will no longer wrap easy around the ears of a full generation.

It could all stay the same, just put in a different with new tools just used the exact same. Soundcloud and Google made it useful to scoop seaweed off the surface of the deepest oceans.

~Austin R Ryan

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whiskey-drinking-librarian:

lady-assbutt:

pizzaforpresident:

icannotevenwilliamshatner:

A corgi leading a conga line of pugs on an adventure.

many favorite photo in the whole wide world

Isn’t this the same as the hobbit movies right

I mean I was kind of thinking more like pug centipede but you do whatever you want man

(via whiskey-drinking-librarian-deac)

Source: hansmormon
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Letters To My Country: "The Rape Double Standard"

letterstomycountry:

Andrew Sullivan has an excellent thread going at his blog where readers are discussing the way society treats sexual assault in men and women. The thread starts with the revelation that Chris Brown “lost his virginity when he was 8,” which disturbed Akiba Solomon at Colorlines:

The fact…

Source: letterstomycountry
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k-lionheart:

xxmissbluespiritxx:

thefunniestpost:

thaxted:

A person with an epic beard dances cutely with a floppy fat raccoon. This is the very definition of perfect.

THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

That second gif actually seriously cheered me up.

Bout to make it sad. The government actually took this man’s raccoon. Animal control intervened, though he arguably raised it well. 

http://www.vice.com/read/the-government-took-this-mans-raccoon-because-of-a-viral-video

(via whiskey-drinking-librarian-deac)

Source: onlylolgifs.net
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Photo Set
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rinelric:

Idunno who made this but I had this saved on my computer and basically, by looking at your hands you can tell what nation you would be in if you would live in the bending world. Pretty sweet right? Personally I would be an airbender, I would just ride around on an air ball all day aww yish

(via avataraang)

Source: snkuroko
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gingerhaze:

knitmeapony:

pocketaimee:

This is what happened after the end of the movie. You cannot convince me otherwise!!

(Credit for this idea goes to you, anonymous dude on 4chan. You’re awesome.)

YES YES YES YES YES. ALSO YES.

GOOD

Source: pocketaimee
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lottie-hulahoops:

tyleroakley:

"A 6 Second Commercial for Vine"

at least he’s honest

(via escapefrompallettown)

Source: Laughing Squid