Cope with the Orange

Goofy is the only classic Disney character who has had sex.

penguinsayseep:

catbountry:

artninja-mcrockviking:

Mickey has nephews, Donald has nephews, Goofy has a son.

And he wasn’t adopted, he looks just like him.

Goofy……has had sex.
Goofy…..has known a woman biblically….

Imagine what it must’ve looked like.
Imagine what it sounded like.

These are the things I think about when I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.

Hyuk hyuk.

omfg… you just shot my childhood in the face

No Second Troy

By William Butler Yeats 

WHY should I blame her that she filled my days
With misery, or that she would of late
Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways,
Or hurled the little streets upon the great.
Had they but courage equal to desire?
What could have made her peaceful with a mind
That nobleness made simple as a fire,
With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind
That is not natural in an age like this,
Being high and solitary and most stern?
Why, what could she have done, being what she is?
Was there another Troy for her to burn? 

Venus Anadyomene

By Arthur Rimbaud 

As from a green zinc coffin, a woman’s
Head with brown hair heavily pomaded
Emerges slowly and stupidly from an old bathtub,
With bald patches rather badly hidden;

Then the fat gray neck, broad shoulder-blades
Sticking out; a short back which curves in and bulges;
Then the roundness of the buttocks seems to take off;
The fat under the skin appears in slabs:

The spine is a bit red; and the whole thing has a smell
Strangely horrible; you notice especially
Odd details you’d have to see with a magnifying glass…

The buttocks bear two engraved words: CLARA VENUS;
—And that whole body moves and extends its broad rump
Hideously beautiful with an ulcer on the anus.

The Song of Wandering Aengus

By William Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood, 
Because a fire was in my head, 
And cut and peeled a hazel wand, 
And hooked a berry to a thread; 

And when white moths were on the wing, 
And moth-like stars were flickering out, 
I dropped the berry in a stream 
And caught a little silver trout. 

When I had laid it on the floor 
I went to blow the fire a-flame, 
But something rustled on the floor, 
And some one called me by my name: 
It had become a glimmering girl 
With apple blossom in her hair 
Who called me by my name and ran 
And faded through the brightening air. 

Though I am old with wandering 
Through hollow lands and hilly lands, 
I will find out where she has gone, 
And kiss her lips and take her hands; 
And walk among long dappled grass, 
And pluck till time and times are done 
The silver apples of the moon, 
The golden apples of the sun.