The Thing About Hozier Is That He's Gonna Use Mythology, Literature And Folklore To Be Horny And To Make

anyone else relate

Draco: I'm 99% certain Professor Snape is having an affair with one of my parents. I just don't know which one

Hozier b like "hey girl what if the ceaseless battle between unconquerable suffering (as a consequence of existence), and the indomitable human spirit, was just. in ur earphones. What if the constant tug of war between the limitlessness of love and inevitability of heartache was literally injected into u via sound. Like. just playing in ur ears for an hour. Take my hand. Let's take a stroll through hell, baby :) wouldn't that be gre- why are you crying"

"Stop saying 15 year olds with weird interests are cringe, they're 15" this is true however you should also stop saying adults with weird interests are cringe because who gives a shit

“…food and love - which is of course the same thing.”

Daniel J. Miller, “The Touch of Love - It Is Everything” / this post / “Joe Pera Shows You How To Pack A Lunch Box” (2020) / a text from my sister / A. A. Milne / @chennai-expression / Chef (2014) dir. Jon Favreau / Sam Sifton, “What to Cook Right Now” (New York Times) / Alan Alda

the saiki k cast is all just so sad like seriously they have so many issues it isnt funny aiura has probably tried to warn people about their deaths so many times and it just doesnt work kusuke feels probably completely worthless when compared to his brother and moved away at 16 kusou has seen the absolute worst in humanity and probably feels like garbage because he didnt do anything teruhashi needs to get into therapy so bad it isnt funny nendou is hated just because of the way he looks even though hes one of the sweetest people out there aren has been beating people up since elementary and based on his nickname has killed someone and likely struggles with the guilt of that kaidou has a very overbearing mother thats trying to push him in a direction he doesnt want to go mera works like 5 separate jobs just to provide for her family saiko most likely doesnt know how to properly convey emotions since all he cared about til the show was money chiyo feels she has to have a boyfriend and when she does get one he fucking sucks akechi used to be beat up by bullies if hairo gets burn out hes just going to explode since all he does is help people and without that hed probably feel useless and toritsuka didnt know his grandparents were dead til he tried to hug them the entirety of this mangas cast needs therapy and if it wasnt for each other they probably couldnt cope (anyways im very normal about this show)

'He looks like Brad Pitt's sexy uncle!' 😭 JOHN PLEASE

From Anthony Bourdain:

Americans love Mexican food. We consume nachos, tacos, burritos, tortas, enchiladas, tamales and anything resembling Mexican in enormous quantities. We love Mexican beverages, happily knocking back huge amounts of tequila, mezcal, and Mexican beer every year. We love Mexican people—we sure employ a lot of them.

Despite our ridiculously hypocritical attitudes towards immigration, we demand that Mexicans cook a large percentage of the food we eat, grow the ingredients we need to make that food, clean our houses, mow our lawns, wash our dishes, and look after our children.

As any chef will tell you, our entire service economy—the restaurant business as we know it—in most American cities, would collapse overnight without Mexican workers. Some, of course, like to claim that Mexicans are “stealing American jobs.”

But in two decades as a chef and employer, I never had ONE American kid walk in my door and apply for a dishwashing job, a porter’s position—or even a job as a prep cook. Mexicans do much of the work in this country that Americans, probably, simply won’t do.

We love Mexican drugs. Maybe not you personally, but “we”, as a nation, certainly consume titanic amounts of them—and go to extraordinary lengths and expense to acquire them. We love Mexican music, Mexican beaches, Mexican architecture, interior design, Mexican films.

So, why don’t we love Mexico?

We throw up our hands and shrug at what happens and what is happening just across the border. Maybe we are embarrassed. Mexico, after all, has always been there for us, to service our darkest needs and desires.

Whether it’s dress up like fools and get passed-out drunk and sunburned on spring break in Cancun, throw pesos at strippers in Tijuana, or get toasted on Mexican drugs, we are seldom on our best behavior in Mexico. They have seen many of us at our worst. They know our darkest desires.

In the service of our appetites, we spend billions and billions of dollars each year on Mexican drugs—while at the same time spending billions and billions more trying to prevent those drugs from reaching us.

The effect on our society is everywhere to be seen. Whether it’s kids nodding off and overdosing in small town Vermont, gang violence in L.A., burned out neighborhoods in Detroit—it’s there to see.

What we don’t see, however, haven’t really noticed, and don’t seem to much care about, is the 80,000 dead in Mexico, just in the past few years—mostly innocent victims. Eighty thousand families who’ve been touched directly by the so-called “War On Drugs”.

Mexico. Our brother from another mother. A country, with whom, like it or not, we are inexorably, deeply involved, in a close but often uncomfortable embrace.

Look at it. It’s beautiful. It has some of the most ravishingly beautiful beaches on earth. Mountains, desert, jungle. Beautiful colonial architecture, a tragic, elegant, violent, ludicrous, heroic, lamentable, heartbreaking history. Mexican wine country rivals Tuscany for gorgeousness.

It's archeological sites—the remnants of great empires, unrivaled anywhere. And as much as we think we know and love it, we have barely scratched the surface of what Mexican food really is. It is NOT melted cheese over tortilla chips. It is not simple, or easy. It is not simply “bro food” at halftime.

It is in fact, old—older even than the great cuisines of Europe, and often deeply complex, refined, subtle, and sophisticated. A true mole sauce, for instance, can take DAYS to make, a balance of freshly (always fresh) ingredients painstakingly prepared by hand. It could be, should be, one of the most exciting cuisines on the planet, if we paid attention.

The old school cooks of Oaxaca make some of the more difficult and nuanced sauces in gastronomy. And some of the new generation—many of whom have trained in the kitchens of America and Europe—have returned home to take Mexican food to new and thrilling heights.

It’s a country I feel particularly attached to and grateful for. In nearly 30 years of cooking professionally, just about every time I walked into a new kitchen, it was a Mexican guy who looked after me, had my back, showed me what was what, and was there—and on the case—when the cooks like me, with backgrounds like mine, ran away to go skiing or surfing or simply flaked. I have been fortunate to track where some of those cooks come from, to go back home with them.

To small towns populated mostly by women—where in the evening, families gather at the town’s phone kiosk, waiting for calls from their husbands, sons and brothers who have left to work in our kitchens in the cities of the North.

I have been fortunate enough to see where that affinity for cooking comes from, to experience moms and grandmothers preparing many delicious things, with pride and real love, passing that food made by hand from their hands to mine.

In years of making television in Mexico, it’s one of the places we, as a crew, are happiest when the day’s work is over. We’ll gather around a street stall and order soft tacos with fresh, bright, delicious salsas, drink cold Mexican beer, sip smoky mezcals, and listen with moist eyes to sentimental songs from street musicians. We will look around and remark, for the hundredth time, what an extraordinary place this is.