Recut Movie Trailer of the Day: A Modern Trailer for Monty Python and the Holy Grail
This recut movie trailer shows what the 1975 comedy film Monty Python and the Holy Grail might look like if it were released as a modern-day blockbuster film.
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ok
im watching tv in my bed and my window is open but all of a sudden i hear a bird flapping its wings a lot and then i look out my window and theres legit 3 birds hanging on my window somehow and 2 more flying behind them watching arrested development with me.
wtf
i looked at them and they all saw and then flew away!
WTF
be my fweeeennnnddss
Shattered
Who doesn’t run from a window they just shattered?
Who wants to clean up a broken window they didn’t break?
I’m stuck.
Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes all the same.
There’s a green one
and a pink one
and a blue one
and a yellow one
and they’re all made out of ticky-tacky
and they all look just the same.
And the children
in the boxes
all go to the universities.
And they all end up in boxes
and they all came out just the same.
Leaves
There’s boards on the windows, but still do the curtains flow along the cold wooden floor. No keys could ever fit the doors’ locks. What some call art scribbles the off-white plastic siding. The mailbox has been missing for days now; a major bank’s ‘Foreclosure’ sign blows gracefully in the wind as if it hadn’t a care in the world. Dry, orange, brown, yellow and red leaves sprinkle the yard, leaves which once had dotted the sky in a greenish fervor. The children’s metal swing set now stands crooked, missing two of its legs; the metal swing still clinks in the light breeze that rushes along the yard, slavishly forcing the colorful leaves to dance. They blow, bounce, roll, twirl and fly about, creating a dazzling spectacle for anyone willing to watch. People pass quickly in their metal boxes, however, not paying any attention to the wavering, blue 'Foreclosure’ post-it standing firmly before the seemingly old abode. Shingles fall. Somewhere not too far away the neighborhood dog barks, his shrill, but firm call echoes throughout the abandoned home. At night, the off-white plastic siding radiates the full moon’s light across its colorful lawn where the leaves continue to dip and dive all about the property. Litter begins to crowd the leaves’ space. Litter begins to crowd the sidewalk in front of the house. Litter begins to crowd. Litter crowds. The nails holding up the sheets of drab plywood to the off-white plastic siding rust. The slightly acidic rain devours away at the small metal tool. One day the boards will fall into the space where a lavish garden filled with all sorts of colors once laid, but is now home to ever-growing weeds who successfully halt any further frondescence other than their own. The swing set in the back yard loses its other two legs and would one day fall violently and quickly into a heap of discarded metal. The chimney would fall in crushing the two floors of wood that lay beneath it. Snow, rain, heat, cold, wind, dry, humid weather combat the structure - Mother Nature always wins.
What is held in the confines of this house? Has anyone ever wondered? Does anyone even care? What echoes of conversations, arguments, or emotions still remain between the walls of the hallways, bathrooms, bedrooms, or living spaces other than that of the neighborhood dog’s bark that comes from such a short distance away? What scars, bumps, bruises, cuts or burns can still be found under this roof that seems so dutifully trying to clench onto its black shingles? What animals, pets, have had their final breaths breathed beyond the front door? How many parties must be held, memories forgotten, height marks etched into the frame of a bedroom door, glasses dropped, sinks clogged, refrigerators replaced? How could we so carelessly pass, stroll, fly by this abandoned abode until any of this matters? What needs to be done in order to preserve all of these things? What if there’s nothing to be done for this family that once owned, or rented, this building? Do we still easily continue with our day, ignoring this 'sight for sore eyes’?
Everything has a foundation. Everything can be broken.
Vincent Van Gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. Many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn’t possible have any direct correlation to one’s happiness, but I never saw that. If you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possible work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, than you are going to do it. It’s really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. There is a greater risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it everyday because there was always that chance it could make things better. Everyone has their yellow paint.
(via bl-ossomed)
Invade my privacy, message me a color.
- Purple: 10 facts about my room.
- Blue: 9 facts about my family.
- Green: 8 facts about my body.
- Yellow: 7 facts about my childhood.
- Orange: 6 facts about my home town.
- Red: 5 facts about my best friend.
- Pink: 4 facts about my parents.
- White: 3 facts about my personality.
- Grey: 2 facts about my favorite things.
- Black: 1 fact about the person I like.
- I know these things are really dumb, but this one out of the hundreds that I've scrolled past has caught my eye.
Sometimes I imagine myself as a car, a hot, speedy Italian sports car... a mild, rusted dodge neon, speeding through the European Cup.. driving down Old Country Road with the cruise control on. I’m winding and weaving passed slower drivers passed trees and a dotted middle yellow line coming down a hill. The weather becomes inclement, yet I push on determined to win the race needing to get home before midninght. My tires slip and slide on the well paved country-side raceway shitty street. I slide into the tires stacked against the wall. Don’t worry I’ll have my crew fix it. I slide into a tree, head on, and fly through the windsheild; I land in a nearby swamp face down. See how one’s conscious can be effected so drastically?
People
People walking, running, sitting, flying, crawling. People driving cars, boats, planes, taxis, trucks, bikes, quads, cranes. People winning, losing; more losers than winners. People, rich. People, poor. Fat, beautiful, scarred, skinny, ugly, freckled, happy, sad, white, black, red, yellow, blue, orange, pink people.
People everywhere.
People nowhere.
People living, people dying, people crying, people laughing.
People jumping, sliding, rolling, people swinging.
People dressed nice. People dressed casual. People dressed in nothing.
People are everything there can be. People are all over the place. Everywhere we go we see things just like us; other people. I am a people of my own ideas, individualist ideas, but still together with my body as one.
People with ties are always in a rush. People with shorts couldn’t care much.
I like to be the people with shorts.
Not because I don’t care much, but because I’d rather not be in a rush. You know? It’s like, why hustle and bustle for something when you can take time and enjoy the little things in life like ocean waves, country breezes, building reflections, rocks, sand, grass, blowing a dandelion’s petals off into the breeze, saving a butterfly on the beach :) or even just sitting out on the back porch flipping some burgers for the friends?
We gotta stop all this futuristic hustle and bustle because it’ll be gone before we know it. Work less; work better. Play more; play better.
Let’s all go to a park tomorrow and play some music or listen to someone playing music. Sing in the shower. Sing on the bus. Sing in the park, Dance. Play the air guitar. Play the air drums. Watch a bumblebee. Pick a flower. Watch clouds. Walk around barefoot. Lay face down in the sand. Do a polar bear plunge for a good cause. Recycle. Eat unhealthy every once and a while. Draw a picture. Color outside the lines. Donate something. Experience, live, try, go, do, see, eat, think, learn.
More and more these days scientists are finding things that ‘may kill us’. Soon enough everything we do can kill us. Who knows, you might even get hit by a drunk driver tomorrow night on your way home from school. What would have you done in your life? Do something right now that you’d be proud of. Make a bucket list. AND DO IT.
Hug your parents, don’t be so mean to them all the time, it’s not their fault they don’t let you have any fun. They love you more than you think. More than you could imagine.
Impress someone. Do something someone told you that you can’t do. Be a little arrogant. Have self-ambition. Have self-confidence; you’re the only one that can be you. You can think for you. Sure, they can influence how you think, but that’s only because they think more than you. Ask a girl to dance. Even if there’s no music. Ask him to lunch; just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you can’t make the first date because maybe he’s really nervous. Buy an old car. Paint it. Be proud of it. Go to mom and pop shops. Fuck Wal-Mart. Support local townsfolk; it’s harder than you could imagine for them to keep doing the only thing they may know how to do.
Everything we see here could be gone tomorrow. Cherish every moment of time on this planet. If there’s something in your life that you’re not happy with, you, and only YOU, have the power to change it.
Go. Do. Be.
Live.
The car coasts down the road wafting between blurred yellow and white lines.
The wind blows the streetlights and blurs my vision.
Time & time again, I search for what may be mine.
But each morning I arrive at a wall, disassembled in collision.
worri-er