Me on Lemmy today:

I used to live in a peaceful, quiet suburb. Eventually, a Panera appeared, as one does. At the end of each day, the Panera had a load of bread that was uneaten and un-purchased. The employees decided that the right thing to do was to give away the uneaten and un-purchased bread at the end of each day. I got some of it. Others did as well. It would be a waste otherwise! It would go into the dumpster, if nobody were to eat this delicious bread!

Those who were the most needy eventually got word of this free delicious bread. It began attracting ruffians. Travelers. Hobos, you know—homeless people. They traveled from the deeper parts of the city to seek this golden mana.

The locals didn’t approve of these dirty people migrating to our alcove and congregating about the back of the Panera every day. For some mere loaves of bread! It was depressing, and more importantly, it could affect our property values! What if they linger about and people think our city was one that not only catered to the lower people, but harbored them? And so, it was dealt with. The police helped to put a stop to it, bless their souls. We thank them for their service.

Now, the citizens of this peaceful city no longer have to view the sad visages of those who never learned how to play the game of our society. The excess bread may rot locked away in that dumpster, but it is the price we must pay for the cleanliness and uninterrupted peace we enjoy.

BIG /s. I typed this out so somebody may see how fucked-up this line of thinking is.

I was a teenager in high school. Late 90’s. I had never really been on a date of any sort before, so this is a first first date story.

I met this girl online on AOL instant messenger. We chatted very frequently for a couple of weeks, then started talking over the phone almost every day. We were really hitting it off, so we started trying to figure out how to hangout together in person. Eventually, she invited me to come over to her house. I was stoked. She said she lived in a nearby suburb, and relayed some directions to me, which I wrote down on a piece of paper. It didn’t seem too far. She said her parents would be home, so my parents said it was ok for me to go over there. I mean, they were probably stoked I wanted to go see a girl too, as I’m pretty sure they were starting to think I was gay by then. I wasn’t, but that’s a separate messed-up story.

An issue came up, though. Her parents said she couldn’t hang out unless she cleaned her room, as it was really messy. I said “No problem! I’ll help you clean it and we can hang out after!” Genius, right?

Anyway, hormones firing on all 8 cylinders, I hop in the car and begin my journey. Turns out she didn’t really live in the city she said she did. That was just the nearest city to where she lived. I’m driving, driving, driving, further away from town thinking I’m lost, but I’m not. I remember turning around and doubling back a few times assuming I MUST have missed a turn. I did not yet own a cell phone to call and verify with her. Folks, the struggle was real back then, LOL. I just eventually followed the instructions as best I could, and eventually found my way. They were not good instructions. It was a miracle, really.

I go up, knock on the door. She and her parents answer the door and let me in. These parents were weird. They were basically gushing to meet me and let me in, but were strangely stoic at the same time, if that makes any sense whatsoever. Whatever. But then, all of a sudden , these parents that were going to be there while we hung out suddenly grabbed all of their things and bounced. Drove off. Huh, weird. They just left this strange boy they’ve never met and their daughter alone in their house. Good thing I’m not a creep, I guess?

This girl is grinning happy, but then gives a warning. She says her room is really messy. I say “It’s ok! My room gets messy sometimes, too! Let’s just attack it real quick and then we can hang out.”

Narrator: No, the boy did not actually know what a real messy room was.

We go in her room and I am shocked. I try not to show it, but it’s bad. Really bad. Every surface in the room is covered with stuff. No part of her floor is visible. Just clothes, toys, books, all sorts of stuff covering the floor, the bed, the shelves, the dressers. I take a moment to look around and take it all in. I’m already here. I’ve already agreed to help her with this, and I really want to get to the hanging out part. I clap my hands and say “Welp! Let’s grab some trash bags!”

So I spend the next couple of hours at least helping straighten out this disaster zone. Now, you really get to know a person when you dig through all of their stuff. There were a couple of things of note. First, it became apparent that this had never been done. Ever. As we pulled up the strata of clothing and toys on the floor, it was like an archaeological dig. The further we got down, the smaller the clothing became. The toys looked like those of a child younger and younger. By the time we got to the bottom, there was toddler clothing. Once able to get under the bed, there were baby toys under there.

At one point, I found a bible, and asked where she wanted to put it. Her eyes widened and she got very serious and placed it up on one of her shelves with the cover facing outward, on display. The manner in which she did this was a little creepy. Now, I was religious and had recently finished up Catechism at that point, so being happy to find your bible didn’t seem weird to me, but I found her a bit dramatic. Whatever. I keep going, and then I find a witchcraft book. SAME reaction. Eyes wide, she places it up next to the Bible. She then turns to me and says, “You know, sometimes, I feel like I’m a bit closer to the devil.”

Like an oblivious character in a horror movie, I don’t get too freaked out. I’m like, dang, this girl is weird and has some issues or something. She starts talking about sex. Saying something along the lines of how she’s had it before, and wondering if I have or not. A lot of things were said by her that, out of context, may have been just a bit quirky. All together like that in that setting, though, I really wondered what was going on with this girl.

Eventually, we finished the cleaning. Many bags of trash and old clothes and toys all bagged up. Vacuumed, dusted, bed made. It felt so good and clean and open. A sense of self satisfaction. She sits down on the bed with a weird look on her face. Looking down at the floor. I say, “Alright! Now we get to actually hang out! What would you like to do?”

Her parents walk in the front door. She slaps her knees and says “Welp! It was nice hanging out! My parents said I could hang out until [this time], so you’ll have to go home now. Maybe we can hang out again soon!”

Narrator: They would not.

On my way out, I look around at the house once more. It seems normal. Clean. Very clean, even.

We didn’t really chat anymore after that. I actually tried to, mainly out of curiosity and concern. I had questions at this point, as you would imagine. She no longer had interest in responding. I just hope she appreciated having her room be comfortable.

After you reminded me of that as well, I had to look it up, because, what kind of cousin have we been talking about this whole time? Second, third cousin hopefully? Nope. She was his first cousin. I’m not so impressed with his sex life anymore. Gross.

I knew he wasn’t monogamous, but I didn’t know he tried to start a polycule until I read that. Interesting!

ONN Exclusive: One-on-One Interview with God https://youtu.be/Vo1IwmaUz90?feature=shared

That’s exactly what he means by “ending the war” and it “never happening in the first place”

Until recently, thought it was also named after Pythagoras, with the snake being a double meaning.

The crazy thing about this is not just how evolution reverse-engineered what a snake looks like to a bird (or whatever preys on this moth), but also that some birds are born with an image burned into their brains labeled “avoid.” Snakes are such a problem to animals that may also prey on this moth, that a moth was able, over millions of years of evolution, to mimic that image through selective pressure. We’re not seeing here a moth mimicking a snake, we are seeing a moth’s wings resembling the image its prey holds in its brain of what it should identify as its own predator. An image that, itself, is held genetically and passed down from animal to animal, built by its own selective pressure. It’s amazing that this could produce such a clear image that’s immediately recognizable to us.

My idea is to train several A.I.s on mostly religious ideology, a single religion for each. Then let them converse with each other.

I’m pretty sure most adult dogs and cats understand mirrors, they just get creeped out by their own reflection. Take an adult cat, hold it up to a mirror. Watch as it actively avoids looking at itself. My dog stares at me for long periods through a full-length bedroom mirror and even barks and runs to the window when she sees dogs outside through it. Doesn’t really care much about her own reflection.

My first thought was also that it’s a Pi bottleneck. I have a 4b, and I don’t think I would really trust it to handle some of the higher-quality streaming. Maybe just barely.

I got a TON of overtime.

My sci-fi lit class used to vote on what book we would do next. We once voted on Battlefield Earth partially as a joke, but we were also curious about how bad it could be. We regretted it.

Where do I fit if I use all three?

NO SEX CAUSES BRO EYES

You have to take a lot. The ego dissolves mostly during the trip, then returns to having a clear boundary/definition before the trip is over. If it ever happens to you, you’ll understand why they still call it ego “death.” However, anybody walking around saying they no longer have an ego because they did mushrooms is full of shit and have a bigger ego than most people, LOL.

I could’ve sworn Jim Beam whiskey was Jim Bean. A friend of mine had a poster of a whiskey bottle on his wall that I stared at every time I was there. He was a minor at the time and didn’t drink, so I always wondered why he had it up. Years later I saw a Jim Beam bottle and had a Mandela moment. The Berenstein Bears and Mandela dying in jail were things I believed, too, but I think the whiskey one is one I haven’t heard from anybody else, yet.