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how do you compete with an angel? become one yourself

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might fuck around and drink the daily recommended amount of water

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“average person eats 3 spiders a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average person eats 0 spiders per year. Spiders Georg, who lives in cave & eats over 10,000 each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

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We don't talk enough about the implications of the annual Thanksgiving presidential turkey pardon

The thing that the turkey is getting pardoned /from/ is being Thanksgiving dinner, the thing the turkey is being pardoned for is a mystery. What are turkeys' crime that gives them the death penalty unless pardoned mr president? Is being a turkey an inherent crime? They were nearly the national bird!

Also, after a turkey attacked a president during the pardon ceremony, the turkeys that will be pardoned in the future are bred and raised to be docile and calm in front of large crowds and next to the potus, indicating that birds can be artificially selected to be genetically capable of being legally freed from their original sin of being born a turkey

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succession 1x05

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ive read a lot of anti-transition arguments towards people unsure about their gender that basically pose any sort of internal exploration as inherently solipsistic and narcissistic, with the mantra being that to think about your relationship to your assigned sex is already thinking too much; you should be thinking less! go get a job! work with your hands! volunteer for the needy! get involved in your local church! pray! marry! start a family! keep yourself busy, so you can never think about yourself again. maybe if you fill your mind with enough noise, you can drown your own conscience out.

im 100% not exaggerating btw, it's actually kind of madness inducing w how many times ive seen people use this mode of argument, it's extremely common. i think ive seen conversion therapy resources use a similar line of reasoning too. and like, if you are a cis person just trying to keep a closeted tranny in the closet, it works like a charm. you can, in fact, drown a person with enough noise and garbage until they stop thinking about their gender dysphoria or, well, anything. all the better that "i saw the tv glow" addresses it head on in relation to the closeted subject in question; yeah, go ahead, do it. you might be trans, you might actually be in serious danger, but it won't hurt if you don't think. and it will work for you, for years and years, and you'll always find more responsibilities and more opportunities to muffle your thoughts. but, maybe 5, 10, 20 years from now, none of the noise will be enough and it will dawn on you, how seriously in danger you actually are - but by that point you've drowned out your own inner conscience so aggressively that there's nothing there, just more of the static and noise of others and no interiority left to seek refuge in. you've got a job, you've buried yourself in work, you've married and have a family; you've given every part of yourself to others just to preclude the possibility of thinking about yourself, for yourself, and now there's no you.

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to be honest I think working on a sewing machine strains my eyes as much as being on a computer does. However, I am incentivized to remain alert and focused by keeping my fingers within stabbing distance of a needle making 60 stitches per minutes.

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How do they choose which sand to be the glass and which sand to be the sand in an hourglass... Imagine you and your best friend were two grains of sand and you had to be in the hourglass and your bestie had to be the glass. Ur together but youve never been more apart. A Sick and twisted practice hourglassery is...

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The next time you've got a friend over, set an example and put your phone on the table, visibly there but not too far away, to let them know that you're intentionally present, not distracted, your attention is undivided and you want to be fully focused on being right there to spend time with them. Don't mention it or draw attention to this, you're not doing this to be preachy or wanting praise, you just want to be a good friend and you value your friend's time. Ideally, your friend will either notice this or even pick it up without conscious notice, and set their own phone aside on the table as well.

Then, when your friend takes a minute to go to the bathroom, grab your phone and take a photo of your friend's phone sitting on your table. Do not touch it, and put your own phone back exactly where it was immediately once you've got the picture. Carry on with whatever you two were doing.

Once your time is up and your friend has left for home, wait for a good 15 minutes or so, for them to either get back home or be well on their way there. Text your friend, "hey, you forgot your phone", and send them the photo you took of their phone on your table. Set a stopwatch running from the moment your friend sees the message.

Measure how many seconds it takes for your friend to process this and tell you to go fuck yourself.

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what i've learned from my attempts to be more active in discords and other online communities is you just have to show up and participate in conversation and even if youre a little annoying or awkward eventually people will grow a fondness to you out of familiarity alone

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hey do you mind if I have a crush on you...as a friend....

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The Turkey Story

So it’s 2001, and my family drives from fucking California and like three blizzards to get to Ohio for thanksgiving, becuase my grandparents are moving into a nursing home and it’s their last holiday in that house.  So its a bit bittersweet but ultimately a good thing.

Since it’s their last holiday there, the family pulls out all the stops when it comes to dinner, all the Russian desserts come out, as does the Lethal Bacon Mashed Potatoes and the horrible candied yams with the mini marshmallows dish because not all expressions of love are good, even if they are sincere.  In the spirit of going all-out, Uncle Bobby smokes a Turkey.  

Uncle Bobby started cooking as a boy scout by tossing foil-wrapped potatoes into a campfire and has been addicted since, and now has a hand-made smokehouse in the backyard where he makes various cured meats and other delights.  He seasons the turkey in the traditional manner, but he and grandpa have a shared passion for a spicier mesquite-style bird, so Bobby makes a Cornish Game Hen seasoned that way, for them.

Then Bobby has a Brilliant Idea.  He realizes that he can stuff the turkey (once it has been smoked) with regular stuffing, and there is still plenty of room for him to put the game hen inside THAT, and stuff the game hen becuase why not?  He confers with Mom, and she explains how to cut open the turkey so there’s  dramatic reveal as the stuffing and game hen come out.  It’s Genius.

Except, of course, that my Aunt Sue is attending, Uncle Cliff slouching after her.

So the day of the dinner, tensions are running a bit high, between the marathon cooking, the kids all being trapped indoors due to aforementioned blizzards, and Uncle Cliff deciding that the best way to amuse himself is by hiding from the adults in the basement, getting drunk and rambling about how various ethic groups were destroying America.  Being that I had close Muslim friends that were leaving the country becuase of 9/11, I was near tears from this nonsense and ready to fight a man roughly five times my size.  

Sue, for some reason, keeps coming down and defending him, or telling us we’re rotten children for ‘attacking’ him, becuase she Must Stand By Her Man, even if her man is a hefty bag of dog feces with an ugly mustache.

My sister eventually bolts upstairs to tattle and my grandfather limps down to the basement and brandishes his Hip-Bone Cane, hands rock-steady in spite of the Parkinson’s slowly taking over him.

“Firstly Cliff, It may not be my roof much longer but while you are under it you will be civil, or I’ll beat your skull in.  Also, dinner’s ready, everyone go wash up.”

We go upstairs and sit down, and do the traditional “Name one thing you’re thankful for” as the bread gets passed around the table, and things calm down a bit.  Bobby brings out the Turkey and everyone goes OOH becuase it’s really pretty, them Mom carves it open so that the stuffing spills out dramatically along with the game hen and there’s an appreciative gasp all around becuase it looks cool.

Only Sue KEEPS gasping, in utter horror, before getting up and clasping her hands to her face ala Edvard Munch and shrieks-

“OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT!”

We all stare at Sue.  We all look back at the fully-dressed-cooked-and-stuffed birds that in no way had any internal organs in them or ever gave live birth. Then we all looked back at Sue, trying to figure out where to begin but since she’d been trying to justify Cliff’s behavior she was pretty much free-associating conspiracies and scandals now, and just kept going.

“IT WAS PREGNANT MY GOD WE’VE COMMITTED AN ABORTION WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL FOR THIS, I’M SO SORRY JESUS-” She goes into full pearl-clutching gibbering horror at this point and falls back into her chair like it’s a Victorian fainting couch only it’s a shitty chair from the Eisenhower administration so it collapses and she slams into the floor, sobbing and kicking her feet like a toddler.

Everyone watched for a moment before my Mom sighs heavily and starts carving and serving the turkey while my grandmother mouths “she’s not coming back”.   

Cliff, reactions delayed by about six beers, finally notices his wife is on the floor and tries to pick her up, falls on his ass himself.  They are assisted by Dad, who is saintly patient man and less immune to this jacknapery at that point. I am stuffing dinner rolls into my face to keep from laughing at this grand spectacle and it’s not working.

“I CAN’T EAT IT, I REFUSE TO PARTAKE IN THIS BARBARISM-”  Sue begins but Dad puts on his best Kindly Father voice (he was heavily involved with the catholic church and even considered becoming a priest before getting drafted but that’s another story) and assures Sue that she need not eat, or even be in the room if she wants.  She nods, placated by being the center of attention again, and Dad goes in for the kill.

“I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.  Can I make you some Eggs?”

“That would be lovely.” Said Sue, joke flying over her head like a boeing 747.  I recall watching my grandmother nearly choke to death on the green beans over that, and everyone pointedly trying to avoid talking about anything poultry-related while Sue sat there and ate the most ironic scrambled eggs in the history of mankind.

Shortly thereafter, Cliff threw up in the sink and they went home, and the party got underway properly, with Grandpa raising a toast to Mom and Uncle Bobby “For marrying well, for a change” “Pregnant Turkey” has been an Ohioan thanksgiving staple since then.  I’ll see if I can hit Uncle Bobby up for instructions but if you decide to make it 1. you HAVE to shriek “OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT” when you carve it open, or it’s not authentic and won’t taste as good 2. Share the pictures with me.

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hi everyone. i love you, i care about you, please make sure to get your ten hours of screentime in today. bump it up to 12 if you can, don't sit any further than two feet from the screen, try to keep blinking to a minimum. if you reach the end of your feed remember to keep refreshing until new content pops up

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