If I like it, I reblog it. If it's art, I've double-checked it's not AI generated.
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The world ended. 75% of plant and animal life was gone forever. Then tomorrow came. So it goes; happy new year.
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Oh, I didn’t know that.
I was listening to Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” on youtube, and browsing the comments several people mentioned …
Okay. The song is about the real sinking of the freighter the Edmund Fitzgerald on Lake Superior in 1975. And there’s a line in the song:
“In the Maritime Sailor’s Cathedral,
The Church Bell chimed till it rang twenty nine times,
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald”
Which references something that the actual Maritime Church in Detroit did in honour of the ship’s crew. And I just found out in those youtube comments for his song that when Gordon Lightfoot died in May last year (2023), the Maritime Church rang those bells again, this time 30 times. Once for every man on the Edmund Fitzgerald, and once more for Gordon Lightfoot.
That’s … That is a memorial I would be proud to have earned. And proud to give. I do like that. A lot.
Apparently, the Split Rock Lighthouse on Lake Superior also lit its beacon in honour of him.
Sorry. I’m having … extremely maritime sort of feelings over here. Songs and memorials, bells and beacons, and the ways we carry memory forward. That’s … that’s a good memorial. I like that.
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Visited old fishmarket close today!! No skin stealing monsters in sight but there was some anglerfish graffiti, whoever did that I love you know,
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For the last decade or so, I’ve been routinely attending a ride-on lawnmower race. I’ve always wanted to participate, but the high cost of used mowers is better spent on more practical vehicles, like literally anything else. Sometimes, though, the universe sends you a message. And in my case, that message came in the form of an awkward leg of a huge trade-in scam.
Picture, if you will, the humble redneck. They await the approach of big, fast domestic mowers. John Deeres, Cub Cadets, even weird modified Chinese stuff they looted from Aliexpress. There is jubilance, but that soon comes to an awkward hush. An unfamiliar engine note approaches.
My International 1480 combine harvester, all ten tons of it, is barrelling down the highway at a clip somewhere between “tepid” and “jaunty.” Even though I have shown up for a race, I am sandbagging a little bit, making sure that the bets get settled against my vehicle before I show them the might of a fully operational monster such as mine.
Technically, there is no violation. I had looked at the rulebook from every angle in the previous year: it has the correct number of wheels, the proper agricultural intent, and with precise work on the tiller, it can even (poorly) mow a suburban lawn. Is it modified? Oh yes, yes indeed, but I see the nitrous bottles poking out from the rows of Kubotas at the starting line.
And when I leave the starting line, it is a thing of beauty. At least for a few milliseconds. It seems that the wizards at International Harvester simply did not comprehend of a situation in which the frame of their combine would be launched into the air by means of one thousand eight hundred foot-pounds of supercharger-bolstered torque. I had erroneously believed that the loose soil of the rural community would let the wheels dip in, but now I am facing directly into the sky, having twelve o’ clocked hard on my wheelie, shooting flames from my exhaust and whirling vertical blades of death towards the grandstand.
It’s not about whether you win or lose. Sometimes it’s about how many pages you add to the rulebook.
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People who give pets a bit of chocolate when they know it’s their pets last day are a bit of a funny concept. Imagine being old and friends with an alien who will live ten times your lifespan and they’re like “ah shit he’s dying, well since you’re dying anyway haven’t you always wanted to know what uranium tastes like?”
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new reason to stay alive: outlive the trump presidency. In fact, outlive Trump. He isn’t immortal. We can live to see the day he's guaranteed to never be in office ever again and we can make sure he knows that he'll never have enough power to kill you
stay strong, friends, this isn't your fault
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