Booty Man – Tim Wilson

Double wide booty


Thought Catalog

A professional thinker named Thomas Hobbes got it into our heads for an embarrassingly long time that our ancestors were pitiful, lonely, mean people.

Three and a half centuries later Hobbes is still revered for his smarts, even though he’ll always be most famous for that unfortunate soundbyte in which he described the life of prehistoric man as “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short.”

Today few serious scientists are waving the “brutish and short” flag. Although the image of the paranoid, dumb, violent, solitary caveman persists in pop culture (and sometimes in our early blog posts) there’s little evidence to support it.

We now know human beings have always been highly social creatures, and that that has been our species’ defining strength. We know humans were nomadic for nearly all of their existence, roaming in groups of between 50 and 150 individuals. Rather than stressed, violent and solitary, they…

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Thought Catalog


  1. “Fortune and glory, kid. Fortune and glory.”
  2. ” I think it’s time to ask yourself; what do you believe in?”
  3. “…Indiana Jones. I always knew someday you’d come walking back through my door. I never doubted that. Something made it inevitable.”
  4. “Professor of Archaeology, expert on the occult, and how does one say it… obtainer of rare antiquities.”
  5. “Throw me the idol; I’ll throw you the whip!”
  6. “You call this archaeology?”
  7. “Look at this. It’s worthless — ten dollars from a vendor in the street. But I take it, I bury it in the sand for a thousand years, it becomes priceless. Like the Ark.”
  8. “It’s not the years, honey. It’s the mileage.”
  9. “We have top men working on it now.” “…Who?” “…Top… men.”
  10. “Snakes. Why’d it have to be snakes?”
  11. “Asps. Very dangerous. …You go first.”
  12. “Please: sit down before you fall down.”
  13. “I suddenly remembered my…

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St. Paddy’s 2013

My first legal St. Patrick’s day celebration was a success.

Started drinking at 12:30pm, finished my last beer at 1:00am before heading to bed stupid drunk, clearly not registering the fact that I’d have to wake up in 6.5 hours for a ballet class – which I went to, still belligerently intoxicated.

It has been far too long since I’ve been so drunk that I can’t even hold my body weight up or speak proper English. I don’t know how many games of beer pong were played, but I do know that I chased Crown Royal shots with Coors Lights. What is the meaning of life anymore? I don’t even know.

I can barely recall Heather and I running to my room around 11:00pm to write my improvisation essay, due in nine hours that I hadn’t even begun. She interrogated me, I answered, and a beautiful paper was born. I edited it this morning and wanted to cry from how superb her drunken thoughts were. If there’s a God above, please note how Heather Carter saved my life.

*Does sign of cross before blowing a kiss to the sky* 

I think the best part of that Sunday Funday was pouring Bailey’s into my hot chocolate at the Winters hockey game. Drunk, face-painted fans cheering for our drunk hockey team, Winter Cannabis Leafs.

I couldn’t have asked to live in a better residence or be affiliated with a better college.