- Person: "YOU SPEAK ANOTHER LANGUAGE?!"
- Me: "Yeah..."
- Person: "SAY SOMETHING IN IT!"
- Me: -Forgets entire language-
I’m not mad that Justin Bieber spat on his fans. I’m not mad that he made his body guards carry him up the Great Wall. I’m not mad he spent the day with strippers or went out tagging where he didn’t belong.
I honestly couldn’t give two shits. Celebrities and I have always been in this awkward agreement that I don’t pay attention to them outside of their work, and in return, their work tends to make me happy. I don’t care about Emma Watson’s hair, even though as a matter of fact I think that shit is the hottest thing since the equator. I’ve never kept up with the Kardashians, I really don’t even know who Perez Hilton is or what he’s doing with his life, and I only recently found out The Bachelor is a real show and not an elaborate hoax.
So what J-Biebs peed in a bucket. I think that’s funny but as far as I’m concerned, there’s more news in my day-to-day life than there is involving his general dismissal of his fans.
But you wanna know something? Don’t you dare fucking tell me to be calm about this D.U.I shit.
Here’s a cool fact about me: my ribs are broken in 27 different places where a drunken driver slammed into the side of my car and almost killed me. I was eighteen. I was in the hospital that whole summer. You can still feel the scars where the bones snapped. I tasted my own lungs when I took a breath.
Here’s a cool fact about america: over one third of people who die in a car crash are gonna go out because some asshole didn’t call a cab. Over one thousand kids died in 2010 because somebody couldn’t sober up. Here’s a cool fucking fact: I’ve lost five friends like this.
They were murdered. I don’t accept that fucking “vehicular manslaughter” charge. You chose to get behind the wheel. You chose to go out while knowing you were intoxicated. You said to yourself “My desire to drive is more important than other people’s lives.” You chose this, and now I have five graves to tend.
Fuck you if you think this isn’t something we should discuss, something we should talk to our loved ones about. How about you stand up to the parents of all five children and try to scoop the taste of dirt out of each of those mouths, try to erase the smell of the coffin as it went into the ground. Tell Talia’s fifteen-year-old corpse you’re really sorry but you don’t think this is an issue. Why don’t you go on and clutch her hands like her mother did while that little girl’s heart slowly stuttered to a halt, wrapped around a piece of metal. It had struck her through the chest hard enough that she didn’t die instantly. She was still breathing for four hours in extreme agony. Talia and I were going to be ballerinas except she was actually good at it. She was the best in our class, professional track written in her blood. She liked snowboarding and loud music and hated mustard. She was so fucking kind and had so much going for her. You know what they don’t talk about? What death looks like as it sweeps across the face of someone you love. How at that point you’re almost sickly glad they gave up.
Fuck you. I won’t calm down. I’m sick of people writing off the actions of idols as “youth behavior.” I’m twenty years old and I’ve done some shit but the few times I’ve had to get home and realized I was three sheets to the wind, I fucking called someone. I have three, maybe four people who would pick me up at 3 in the morning and two of them come with the knowledge that they’re gonna tear me a new asshole when I sober up - I’m sure a celebrity pop star could find someone to drag him to where ever he had to go.
I’m fucking sick of this. How come everybody else has to be on their best behavior all the time or whatever happens to them is their fault, but there are people saying Justin Bieber deserves a sainthood? I hate how they discuss how this is ruining his life instead of discussing the lives he could have ruined - and if this isn’t a familiar issue to you, you haven’t been paying attention. I’m fucking sick of how these assholes get away with everything because they’re in a position of power. I don’t fucking care what he does to his fans.
I care about the fact there are going to be one thousand children dying in really pointless accidents because the people who look up to Bieber are going to say “He did it and he was fine when it happened.”
This is important. This is serious. I really kind of hope you don’t believe me because the truth is, if you don’t, you haven’t lost someone to an idiot driving drunk.
This isn’t meant to shame you if you are his fan. I’m not mad about whatever the fuck else he did. I’m mad we’re still treating him like he’s just a wild rich kid.
There are people out there that didn’t live past fourteen. I won’t calm down. This needs to be heard. This needs to be seen.
I just want people to wake up and realize this isn’t just some “victimless crime.” /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)
Why isn’t this reblogged millions of times?!
Drunk driving is a badge of low character.
I fucking hate my tablet.
When Steve Kloves (who wrote the majority of the Potter screenplays) met J.K. Rowling for the first time, he told her straight up that Hermione was his favorite character. Rowling admitted to being relieved, and who could blame her? It was more likely for Hermione to end up disrespected on screen—she wouldn’t be the first female hero to get butchered in the reels.
But this resulted in an undercutting of Ron’s entire character from the first movie. Don’t believe it? When the trio go after the Philosopher’s Stone, they face a series of tests that demand each of their skills in turn. Time likely demanded that this sequence be cut down, and so Hermione’s test—solving Professor Snape’s potion riddle—was removed entirely. To make up for this, she gets them out of the Devil’s Snare, Professor Sprout’s deadly plant. Hermione shouts to Harry and Ron to relax so the foliage will release them—but Ron continues to panic and moan (in campiest fashion possible because he’s played by a child actor and these things are always requested of them), requiring Hermione to blast the thing with a sunlight spell.
In the book, Hermione is the one who panics. She remembers what her lessons taught her—that the Devil’s Snare will recoil at fire—but balks at their lack of matches while they are being strangled to death. Ron immediately shrieks to the rescue YOU ARE A WITCH YOU HAVE A WAND YOU KNOW SPELLS WHAT ARE MATCHES.
It’s a simple change, but it makes such a marked difference in how both characters come off to an audience. Rather than a near-infant, incapable of following the clearest directions, Ron is the even-keeled nitty-gritty one. He’s a tactician, the one who will find the simplest answer to a problem provided that the situation is dire enough to ensure his clear head. Ron is good under pressure and brave to boot. He’s also hilarious.
It is easy to write this off as an actor problem; Emma Watson matured and improved much faster than her costars in terms of talent—and Steve Kloves liked her portrayal so much that he started giving her many of Ron’s important lines. During The Prisoner of Azkaban, Sirius Black is trying to get to Peter Pettigrew (currently disguised as Scabbers the Rat), but Ron and Hermione are convinced he’s after Harry. In the book, Ron stares up defiantly from his mangled, broken leg and tells Sirius Black that if he wants Harry, he’ll have to get through his friends first.
Yeah, my leg hurts way too much, Hermione. You take this one. But say it’s from me. And in the film, it’s Hermione who boldly steps in the line of fire while Ron sobs in pain and babbles incoherently.
These rewrites not only depict Ron as an idiot coward—they also make him an outright jerk. When Professor Snape snaps at Hermione yet again for being an insufferable know-it-all, movie-Ron gives her a look and drawls, “He’s right, you know.” Wait, what?! Harry, why are you friends with this prick? Well, maybe because the Ron Weasley that J.K. Rowling put on paper was in that exact same situation, and immediately leapt to Hermione’s defense when she was being abused by a teacher—“You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don’t want to be told?” Erased by Time and Blockbusters—The Cautionary Tale of Ron Weasley (via messrmona)