This is the bookshelf of an adult

holy shit i'm fucking terrified. what if i live my entire pathetic life without actually accomplishing or creating anything of value?? what if i'm not any better than the mcu loving funko pop buying panera bread eating normies??? what if everyone i hate becomes more successful than me??? eeeeee

fpbp

Tell them to give all these toys and children's books away to the needy black and mexican children they constantly cry about. Write down their excuses as to why that wouldn't correct white supremacy.

What bugs me about this is how this person obviously doesn't even read books. All the books are covered with crappy plastic toys so you can't even see the titles much less take them off the shelves. It's a display case, not a bookshelf. This is basically what Yea Forums does buying used literary canon books and making a stack on their end table then taking a photo, just for a different crowd of vapid idiots.

absolutely destroy consumerism and all it´s roots.

is this some funko pop or w/e marketing?

I dont get the appeal of those simple generic dolls

>most likely female
man, you fucking wish. despite that being some brazilian girl's room I've seen more dudes with that garbage in their rooms.

These are the same people who wail about global warming and pollution when their bookshelves are chock full of plastic figurines. Those figures, by the way, must've been made ironically, they're literally all the fucking same apart for differences in colour and hair pieces, it must've been some sort of experiment to see if they could get away with doing as little as possible to give any of them character but still get bugmen to buy them.

My brother is a bugman and collects these. He gives them as gifts to relatives. He bought me one once, and I threw it in the trash as soon as I got home. I couldn't bear to let it live. It fills me with shame and horror that my own brother finds joy and meaning in these artifacts. I can't even take him seriously as a human being. He's a librarian with a few advanced vanity degrees. How can I feel so much visceral shame for another person's life? He feels shame for my existence as an illiberal loner, but somehow I know nothing I'll ever do or fail to do will approach the nullity of these bugman dolls.

Cancer.

I don't have a bookshelf. I find the obsessive hoarding of material things to be antithetic to living as a responsible citizen. I would rather borrow/return from the library I am financing with my tax dollars (and donations), so that the whole community can benefit.

Kys fat american

yeah, its fucking insane. literally. i mean, i could see collecting something thats at least interesting, like model trains or something else like that where there's actually a topic of interest behind it that could even have some historical significance, or even action figures that actually have moving parts or at least look realistic, or even those hubbel figurines which are all at least depicting a different scene, but this is probably the single most bland thing you could possibly collect without being ironic about it. period. they're all basically the fucking same. you're just collecting this one single image, this blank slate funko pop idol with a tiny little layer of paint and maybe a hair piece on it. the defining article of your collection isn't even the characters from the children's media that you so love, its this abstract funko pop idol. that's what ties it all together. the characters often have no relation whatsoever to each other. you see the harry potter shit and then the marvel shit which is blatantly separate, but you also see this distortion of the original characters which is present throughout. all the characters are just a particular species of the genus that is "funko pop figure." so you don't even desire to have a figure of the character, you desire to have a funko pop, undeniably that is your motivation. where did this image of "the funko pop" even come from? its downright disturbing, and maybe even demonic. i think the skin of the funko pop only serves to disguise the consumer from his own insanity. imagine if the skins all fell away and you were left seeing nothing on your shelf but hundreds of blank white funko pops. you would lose your mind thinking about how you bought all of them. so we see that the skin of the character only serves this purpose. it is literally the most insane thing you can possibly collect unironically because if you bought the same blank slate funko pop over and over, you would soon realize your own insanity as your collection grew, and that's if you even started to buy them all in the first place, which you probably wouldn't. the only reason you would start to buy a bunch of the same thing over and over again would be as a joke, or because you thought they were going to become highly sought after collectibles and you wanted to make some money. so what is the necessary element needed to enable a man to collect such worthless garbage? you trick him into thinking he hasn't just bought the same exact thing over a thousand times by putting different colored paint on each one. i mean, look at the middle shelf on the right. three of those guys are exactly the fucking same to me and to any sane person. but to him, its probably completely different. lost in his insanity, he sees a rose, a tulip and a daisy, where we merely see 3 roses.
its utter insanity.

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pasta so stale

>pasta so stale

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Fascism.
Hitler

Bro wtf, that's your brother. Fucking Americans treat their family like trash over the most petty things, explains why you're all killing yourselves

He's a feminist tattooed lgbtq hyper sjw who has hated me with a seething jealous rage since I was born. It was the funko pop dolls that finally pushed me into total shame. I still love him and agree with what you're saying.

>He's a feminist tattooed lgbtq hyper sjw who has hated me with a seething jealous rage since I was born. It was the funko pop dolls that finally pushed me into total shame.
oh dear God, get me off this earth.

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Wtf is wrong with Panera bread

nothing. i eat there sometimes and i don't even own a cell phone. it mostly old people and indians that eat there anyway, it just gets equated with the starbucks basic white girl meme for some reason.

Ok, good. I like to eat there. It’s cozy.

Yea it's a little pricey for what you get, but it's not bad. My grandma likes it so I take her there all the time

Because when you ask a basic white girl where she wants to eat its either Panera, or whatever generic mexican restaurant is closest.

You people talking about Panera is even worse than bugman toys. West is doomed. Still love you though.

A collector lines the candles of sense-data to cast the shadow of dasein on the wall. Shrine of self.
The inability to connect with self or other, they create a proxy platform from which they can jump start surface level conversations.
People who see this, exploit it. Creating tethers to which attach themselves to and at every possible chance, create conflict that swirls around this axiom of personality enforcement.
Confined to the 2nd plane, unable to perceive the 3rd spatial dimension, these people prop their kin and self in a fugue state, in hopes that their reigned what ought becomes the tetherless what is.
What moves the boulder forward? The essence or the by-product? Exactly. Outer sphere dictates the inner sphere, unable to break the bubble of self-confinement, they are in a prison of their own making, the sow surrounded by scarlet string.
In extreme cases, the self forfeits all agency and falls into a perpetual limbo of qualitative negativity and a new defence mechanism is introduced.
The tautological self-affirmation becomes the dissident proxima of actualization, unground flips itself over and a phantom host takes control.
Dawn of tabula rasa, the mindful surrounded by rancor of nous embodies the canonical heroes donned in oppressors garbs. Paint of greed departing from the brush of want, fills the innocent with content.
Exodus of self priori invites the corrupted qualia to accentuate the faux-virility of surroundings. Like an inexperienced stalker in the room, als ob leads to death of self.
Bull surrounded by walls, the orb of essence radiating the hermeneutic vision of the past, present and future. Only one goal in mind, touching the noumenal through unbecoming. Frothing mouth dripping remnants of jiva follows behind a desperate charge to swallow Husserl.
Thread of void woven into the tapestry of being, it all comes undone. Essential inconstant is rocked, he who provides, jumps into the same pit of ontological darkness where the innocent resides.
>The cure?
Remove the provider? No, because a vacuum is born and the innocent is too far gone for a potent substitute to be introduced. Essentially what you see in the picture is a sailor who wasn't smart enough to tie himself to the mast or cover his ears, nor did he have a friend to do this for him. At this point it's too late, there's a whole orchestra of sirens and disrupting the siren song will have you be thrust under the gaze of izanami.

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Who cares?

more lifting weights
more time in nature
learn a combat sport
less time on the internet and social media

This. Really not better or worse than many stack threads.

His parents.

He's still your brother, regardless of how petty and lame he might be. You should disown him only if he does REALLY fucked up shit, like killing your parents, taking part in war crimes, or raping a baby... you get the gist. Anything short of that should be ultimately forgiven.

These sorts of people always end up being socialists and feminists.