1. thedailywhat: Heartbreaking Tearjerker of the Day: A struggling soap actor who was allegedly harassed by his neighbors and condo board into euthanizing his beloved pet pit-bull mix took his own life last week, leaving behind a note saying he was racked with guilt over “betraying” his best friend. Nick Santino, whose acting credits include recurring roles on All My Children and Guiding Light, committed suicide last Wednesday — a day after his 47th birthday — a few hours after euthanizing his dog, Rocco. In 2010, the management at his Upper West Side building had imposed certain restrictions on dog owners and banned the housing of pit bulls. Since Rocco had already been living in the building, he was grandfathered in and allowed to stay. Still, Santino’s friends say he was constantly harassed by neighbors and members of the condo board who wanted him to get rid of the dog. “People were complaining about his dog,” said neighbor Kevan Cleary. “It was open season on him.” Neighbor Lia Pettigrew concurred: “Everybody knows that he had been harassed by the building management.” After someone complained that Rocco was barking, Santino was threatened with a $250 fine. “The dog was not a barker, but somebody complained that the dog would bark,” Cleary said. “He felt like he was in this battle because he was the only guy in the building with a pit-bull mix.” Eventually, Santino felt he had no choice but to put Rocco to sleep. After the deed was done, Santino reportedly approached the building’s doorman and handed him Rocco’s dog treats. “Give these to the other dogs,” Santino said with tears in his eyes. “Rocco is no more.” Shortly thereafter, the troubled Brooklyn-born orphan, who grew up in foster homes and was part of 9/11’s first search and rescue team, died of an apparent pill overdose. “Today I betrayed my best friend and put down my best friend,” Santino wrote in his suicide note. “Rocco trusted me and I failed him. He didn’t deserve this.” Santino’s love for Rocco was well-known. Having adopted Rocco from a shelter, he sought to clarify their relationship on Facebook: “I did not rescue Rocco, Rocco rescued me.” A condo board member who spoke with The Post refused to accept blame for Santino’s suicide. “I’m sorry the man is dead,” said board member Marilyn Fireman, “but it has nothing to do with the pet policy.” Funeral plans for Santino are on hold at the moment. His relatives say they are waiting to receive Rocco’s cremated remains so they can be buried alongside his owner. [post: 1,2 / imdb / gothamist.]

    thedailywhat:

    Heartbreaking Tearjerker of the Day: A struggling soap actor who was allegedly harassed by his neighbors and condo board into euthanizing his beloved pet pit-bull mix took his own life last week, leaving behind a note saying he was racked with guilt over “betraying” his best friend.

    Nick Santino, whose acting credits include recurring roles on All My Children and Guiding Light, committed suicide last Wednesday — a day after his 47th birthday — a few hours after euthanizing his dog, Rocco.

    In 2010, the management at his Upper West Side building had imposed certain restrictions on dog owners and banned the housing of pit bulls. Since Rocco had already been living in the building, he was grandfathered in and allowed to stay.

    Still, Santino’s friends say he was constantly harassed by neighbors and members of the condo board who wanted him to get rid of the dog. “People were complaining about his dog,” said neighbor Kevan Cleary. “It was open season on him.” Neighbor Lia Pettigrew concurred: “Everybody knows that he had been harassed by the building management.”

    After someone complained that Rocco was barking, Santino was threatened with a $250 fine. “The dog was not a barker, but somebody complained that the dog would bark,” Cleary said. “He felt like he was in this battle because he was the only guy in the building with a pit-bull mix.”

    Eventually, Santino felt he had no choice but to put Rocco to sleep. After the deed was done, Santino reportedly approached the building’s doorman and handed him Rocco’s dog treats. “Give these to the other dogs,” Santino said with tears in his eyes. “Rocco is no more.”

    Shortly thereafter, the troubled Brooklyn-born orphan, who grew up in foster homes and was part of 9/11’s first search and rescue team, died of an apparent pill overdose.

    “Today I betrayed my best friend and put down my best friend,” Santino wrote in his suicide note. “Rocco trusted me and I failed him. He didn’t deserve this.”

    Santino’s love for Rocco was well-known. Having adopted Rocco from a shelter, he sought to clarify their relationship on Facebook: “I did not rescue Rocco, Rocco rescued me.”

    A condo board member who spoke with The Post refused to accept blame for Santino’s suicide. “I’m sorry the man is dead,” said board member Marilyn Fireman, “but it has nothing to do with the pet policy.”

    Funeral plans for Santino are on hold at the moment. His relatives say they are waiting to receive Rocco’s cremated remains so they can be buried alongside his owner.

    [post: 1,2 / imdb / gothamist.]

  2. darlingbexy:

    culturerevo:

    weirdette:

    hollow-crown:

    This is incredible, quite possible one of the best posts I’ve seen on Tumblr.

    Whoa. Kind of eerie.

    Coming soon to an America street near you!

    Premonition?

  3. thedailywhat:

    BFFs of the Day: What happens when two best friends make it to the championship round of a kickboxing tournament. 

    [reddit.]

  4. chels:

    Step 1: Set up eight fans in a circle.

    Step 2: Toss a piece of silk into the middle.

    Step 3: Zen out for a while. 

  5. husssel:

    So, I was reading through my comments the other day when I came across one that really disturbed me…This girl is really pretty. NO HOMO. I know what you’re thinking “It’s 2012 who still says that”. I thought the same thing too. But for those of you who don’t know. No Homo is a qualifier that is used to assure your present company that you are not in fact a homosexual. Because this phrase makes my skin crawl. I decided to make up a few qualifiers of my own and with your help I hope that I can make these really popular in 2012. - Chescaleigh

  6. sirdree:

    I am voting for this guy.

  7. oneironautical: thecakesniffer: lostwithoutmydoctor: lappeldu-vide: oneironautical: I made this in eighth grade to torment my history teacher. He was racist, sexist, generally bigoted, verbally abusive, and vaguely pedophilic. For an entire school year, he was my arch-nemesis and I was his. Ooooh, he hated me! It was notorious how obvious his loathing for me was, and I did nothing but encourage it. I would have given him a fair chance, but in the first week of school he declared that the Muslim Agenda is to conquer America, enslave women, cut off our heads, and slice our Christian throats. Those words exactly, to a room full of 12-13 year-olds. I asked him right then and there if he had any unbiased sources for that information excluding Rush Limbaug or Fox News. He glared at me, the seeds of hate taking root, and I knew that it would be a long year. Classes were bad enough. Being singled out and asked to explain my stance on abortion for the whole class to hear, then interrogated about my moral values and subjugated to the most twisted excuse for ‘logic’ I’ve ever heard to prove that I was dangerously antisocial in my views. Assigned the position of defense attorney during mock trials in what was a textbook example of a Joker Jury (I won! I won fair and square and the only reason my defendant was found guilty was because he was stringy and stupid and everyone’s favorite victim) and THEN informing the class that the outcome of a trial is always dependent on the quality of the defense attorney. One day, without warning, he came to my desk and dropped a dictionary on my homework, told me to stand up, find the definition of ‘marriage’, and read it aloud for the whole class to hear. I knew what his game was so I pointed out that the edition was released in 1989 and so was obsolete because it was published before legalization of same-sex marriage and was biased. He made me read it anyway, then asked me why I was thinking about homosexuals if he never brought it up, obviously trying to make me out myself as a lesbian. Yeah, fuck you, too, Smith. Outside of class he was even worse — if he caught me alone, he’d loom over me, try to stall me and make me late to other classes, and told me flat-out that I was a disrespectful and audacious little girl with a mind closed to learning. He was friends with my Health teacher and conspired with him to humiliate me — invariably, I was called upon to be weighed in front of the class and told that I was “fat on the inside” even though I looked scrawny. Yes, seriously. We reported Mr. Smith’s behavior to the administration and superintendent. They ignored us. My mother was told that nothing would be done about it because I had “a history of noncooperation” with teachers and staff, nevermind the fact that all of my other teachers considered me among their best students ever.  Aaaaanyway. I got back at him through my own small, infuriating rebellion. Laughing at him during solemn moments. Sitting and reading through the Pledge of Allegiance each morning. Dropping the ‘mister’ from his name when I addressed him. Arriving early in class and doing my homework in the three minutes before the bell rang — and getting full marks. Drawing transvestites and Muslims in the margins of my papers. When he announced that he shared a spiritual bond with Abraham Lincoln because he shared a birthday with him, I said, “Wow, good thing you weren’t born on April 20th” and asked if he shared the same bond with Charles Darwin. I brought in a stack of pamphlets (supplied by my mother) of common misconceptions about Islam and left them around the room. I’d stare at him intently and make weird faces at him while he taught so that he’d suddenly forget what he was saying because he was so flustered. What does any of this have to do with Lincoln in a patriotic g-string? Well, having a ‘spiritual connection’ with someone apparently means completely covering the walls of your classroom with images of their face. There were blown-up portraits the size of beds on every wall. Lincoln masks hung from the ceiling. A cardboard cutout of Lincoln stood near the door. Images of Lincoln were everywhere — thousands of beady Lincoln eyes glowering from every surface. It was unnerving. His passion for Lincoln was clearly erotic, made more disturbing by his vocal hatred of homosexuals. On Lincoln’s death-day, he stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, swaying back and forth and whispering the Gettysburg address in front of his Lincoln shrine. He described in great detail how the doctors had removed Lincoln’s clothing to discover his refined musculature and gleaming, sculpted chest.  So I drew this in class and let him see it over my shoulder. Trololol. Your contempt for dickish teachers is disturbingly delightful. I hope he’s been fired by now. The story plus the picture is simply beautiful. I salute you and wish I’d had the balls to act like that with all my abusive teachers.  I am absolutely flabbergasted - yes, flabbergasted - that this has received so many notes! My anger feels justified.

    oneironautical:

    thecakesniffer:

    lostwithoutmydoctor:

    lappeldu-vide:

    oneironautical:

    I made this in eighth grade to torment my history teacher. He was racist, sexist, generally bigoted, verbally abusive, and vaguely pedophilic. For an entire school year, he was my arch-nemesis and I was his. Ooooh, he hated me! It was notorious how obvious his loathing for me was, and I did nothing but encourage it.

    I would have given him a fair chance, but in the first week of school he declared that the Muslim Agenda is to conquer America, enslave women, cut off our heads, and slice our Christian throats. Those words exactly, to a room full of 12-13 year-olds. I asked him right then and there if he had any unbiased sources for that information excluding Rush Limbaug or Fox News. He glared at me, the seeds of hate taking root, and I knew that it would be a long year.

    Classes were bad enough. Being singled out and asked to explain my stance on abortion for the whole class to hear, then interrogated about my moral values and subjugated to the most twisted excuse for ‘logic’ I’ve ever heard to prove that I was dangerously antisocial in my views. Assigned the position of defense attorney during mock trials in what was a textbook example of a Joker Jury (I won! I won fair and square and the only reason my defendant was found guilty was because he was stringy and stupid and everyone’s favorite victim) and THEN informing the class that the outcome of a trial is always dependent on the quality of the defense attorney. One day, without warning, he came to my desk and dropped a dictionary on my homework, told me to stand up, find the definition of ‘marriage’, and read it aloud for the whole class to hear. I knew what his game was so I pointed out that the edition was released in 1989 and so was obsolete because it was published before legalization of same-sex marriage and was biased. He made me read it anyway, then asked me why I was thinking about homosexuals if he never brought it up, obviously trying to make me out myself as a lesbian.

    Yeah, fuck you, too, Smith. Outside of class he was even worse — if he caught me alone, he’d loom over me, try to stall me and make me late to other classes, and told me flat-out that I was a disrespectful and audacious little girl with a mind closed to learning. He was friends with my Health teacher and conspired with him to humiliate me — invariably, I was called upon to be weighed in front of the class and told that I was “fat on the inside” even though I looked scrawny. Yes, seriously. We reported Mr. Smith’s behavior to the administration and superintendent. They ignored us. My mother was told that nothing would be done about it because I had “a history of noncooperation” with teachers and staff, nevermind the fact that all of my other teachers considered me among their best students ever. 

    Aaaaanyway. I got back at him through my own small, infuriating rebellion. Laughing at him during solemn moments. Sitting and reading through the Pledge of Allegiance each morning. Dropping the ‘mister’ from his name when I addressed him. Arriving early in class and doing my homework in the three minutes before the bell rang — and getting full marks. Drawing transvestites and Muslims in the margins of my papers. When he announced that he shared a spiritual bond with Abraham Lincoln because he shared a birthday with him, I said, “Wow, good thing you weren’t born on April 20th” and asked if he shared the same bond with Charles Darwin. I brought in a stack of pamphlets (supplied by my mother) of common misconceptions about Islam and left them around the room. I’d stare at him intently and make weird faces at him while he taught so that he’d suddenly forget what he was saying because he was so flustered.

    What does any of this have to do with Lincoln in a patriotic g-string? Well, having a ‘spiritual connection’ with someone apparently means completely covering the walls of your classroom with images of their face. There were blown-up portraits the size of beds on every wall. Lincoln masks hung from the ceiling. A cardboard cutout of Lincoln stood near the door. Images of Lincoln were everywhere — thousands of beady Lincoln eyes glowering from every surface. It was unnerving. His passion for Lincoln was clearly erotic, made more disturbing by his vocal hatred of homosexuals. On Lincoln’s death-day, he stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed, swaying back and forth and whispering the Gettysburg address in front of his Lincoln shrine. He described in great detail how the doctors had removed Lincoln’s clothing to discover his refined musculature and gleaming, sculpted chest. 

    So I drew this in class and let him see it over my shoulder. Trololol.

    Your contempt for dickish teachers is disturbingly delightful. I hope he’s been fired by now.

    The story plus the picture is simply beautiful. I salute you and wish I’d had the balls to act like that with all my abusive teachers. 

    I am absolutely flabbergasted - yes, flabbergasted - that this has received so many notes! My anger feels justified.

  8. youweresowellbehaved: When things in your life seem, almost too much to handle,When 24 Hours in a day is not enough,Remember the mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee.A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him.When the class began, wordlessly,He picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jarAnd proceeded to fill it with golf balls.He then asked the students, if the jar was full.They agreed that it was.The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and pouredthem into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.The pebbles rolled into the open Areas between the golf balls.He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.Of course, the sand filled up everything else.He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectivelyfilling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.‘Now,’ said the professor, as the laughter subsided,‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.The golf balls are the important things - family,children, health, Friends, and Favorite passions – Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, Your life would still be full.The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house, and car.The sand is everything else —The small stuff.‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ He continued,there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.The same goes for life.If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff,You will never have room for the things that are important to you.So…Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.Play With your children.Take time to get medical checkups.Take your partner out to dinner.There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.‘Take care of the golf balls first —The things that really matter.Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.The professor smiled‘I’m glad you asked’.It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,There’s always room for a couple cups of coffee with a friend.’ Amazing.

    youweresowellbehaved:

    When things in your life seem, almost too much to handle,
    When 24 Hours in a day is not enough,
    Remember the mayonnaise jar and 2 cups of coffee.

    A professor stood before his philosophy class 
    and had some items in front of him.
    When the class began, wordlessly,
    He picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar
    And proceeded to fill it with golf balls.

    He then asked the students, if the jar was full.
    They agreed that it was.

    The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured
    them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly.
    The pebbles rolled into the open Areas between the golf balls.

    He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

    The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar.
    Of course, the sand filled up everything else.
    He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous ‘yes.’

    The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively
    filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

    ‘Now,’ said the professor, as the laughter subsided,
    ‘I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life.
    The golf balls are the important things - family,
    children, health, Friends, and Favorite passions –
    Things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, Your life would still be full.

    The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, house, and car.

    The sand is everything else —The small stuff.

    ‘If you put the sand into the jar first,’ He continued,
    there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
    The same goes for life.

    If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff,
    You will never have room for the things that are important to you.

    So…

    Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness.
    Play With your children.
    Take time to get medical checkups.
    Take your partner out to dinner.

    There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal.

    ‘Take care of the golf balls first —
    The things that really matter.
    Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.

    One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.

    The professor smiled
    ‘I’m glad you asked’.

    It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem,
    There’s always room for a couple cups of coffee with a friend.’
    Amazing.

  10. thekaycho:

    :”(

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