Weird trend across all platforms the last few years. In the days of broadcast media the FCC could regulate content. Then advertisers privatized the role. Then the Internet revived the free for all of public access. Then somebody worked some kind of Queen Victoria magic on content creators to get them to both write and visually bleep parts of words on behalf of the advertisers and publishers.

Hawaiian pizza was invented by a Greek man running an Italian pizzeria in Toronto inspired by the sweet and sour flavors of Chinese cuisine

New theory, internalized guilt over online shopping induced by media showing the impacts of climate change alongside the implication that delivery is to blame is manifesting as “fuck cars” instead of “I’ll simply buy less or hate myself less when I do shop”

Gentle parenting when it comes to my own lesson learning, wrathful punishment for everybody else

I’m a scientist and I love cars! The “fuck cars” thing is lame, and obnoxiously whiny in a car-based society. The yutes cheer on Spongebob getting his boating license but fall to pieces when they have to drive. Did we raise a generation of drunks?

Yes, actually. It’s ignorant, cold, and wrathful. The longer the yutes hold onto a punishment mentality the longer we have to live with fascism.

I’m not blaming, I don’t think the reporting is horny either. The concept is fascinating, if anything I’m horny for more of a middle ground between fluff and the original paper.

What’s the “intimate detail”? The novelty I got here was the revelation of three instead of two proteins involved in this binding site. Is that “the” binding between the egg and sperm or is it a secondary/support linkage?

Squeamish

“Hmm there sure are a lot of hateful conservatives in this space I keep occupying”

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Can we send his wife flowers?

I’m with you calling it out. “His generation’s future is bleak” lol thanks, dad. Half the content on here is screeching about how prior generations failed to save the world, and this guy is leaning full in on “not my choice, not my problem” to a cheering crowd encouraging him to spike his son into the ground.

Children need exposure to a diverse set of role models or they turn into hateful, close-minded lizards spitting venom at healthy people for their choice in decor.

“Keep suckin down the brain juice and imagining yourself the victim of capitalism!”

“Hey wanna hang out?”

“I can’t sorry, a Catholic witch on the Internet was on her hands and knees crying begging me to live a tortured life and I felt bad telling her no”

I mentally replaced cars with boats recently and it’s been inducing nautical terminology everywhere I speak. Cap’n and Crew sounds great for this usage, it feels honest without the shock of great grandpa’s heavyweight authoritarianism. I usually wind up stepping down to Spongebob or Pirates to filter out seriousness too, as long as the packet arrives and the replicas are jolly.

I’ve been chewing on the idea that Sauron is part of the fellowship lately and this seems like the opening I need to tackle the framing.

I think there’s one perspective in which The Eye is an unrelentingly repressive aspect of authoritarianism and The Ring is both part of Sauron and a catalyst for the unnameable evil inherent within her.

Alternatively The Eye’s power is identifying the thing that corrupts, and The Hobbit’s power is carrying it. Singling anything out is an isolating task for Mean Girls, and in her work separating the Ring from everything else in the universe Sauron grows the thorniest, vilest crows she can to shield her loneliness. Still, when the Hobbits are at their lowest she reveals herself to hold their hands.

It seems that one approach to devils is pointing them out for somebody else to hurl into the fire and another is relegating them to the negative space by directing identity towards the Main Picture.

I thought it was obvious but now I’m not sure. Who did Stuart’s nephew kill?

They called themselves the Kool Kids but we knew them as the Terror Twins, the Masonic Menace. They’d force their way into any bit of joy or loss, a trail of rubble and scars bolstering their smothering presence, the moon’s the only force strong enough to pull them away.

At least that’s what some say happened the night Kool-Aid Man landed on the rocks. Everybody has their say on how he got there, but the facts of the matter are he did get there, the tides were shifting when he did, the moon was full and the sky was clear, and a group of yutes had just started a fire for a clam bake near where shards of glass were later found. All the king’s horses and men gathered to put him together again, but with one piece lost in the sand he bled out entirely.

The coroner informed Warm-Hinder, who froze in place. A sudden strong gust cracked his icy joints in half, sending his upper parts rolling down 95. When he finally thawed out somewhere near Maryland he dragged himself to the woods, to the remotest cabin of the least connected mountain in all of Appalachia.

Out front sat Marge and Paddy, who offered a refill to the dehydrated tumbler and pointed to the trail of sweet tears leading to the stranger on their porch. He drank deep then reached for a horseshoe on the ground near his foot, hurling it at the hosts’ hearts. A cloud shifted as he did, and a ray of light caught the glass in the old couple’s hands. A rainbow fired from between them blinding the guest, who fell to the floor grasping at his eyes.

“I can’t see, I can’t see!” he cried scrambling on all fours, kicking up dust and throwing what rocks his fingers could find.

“What is it you can’t face?” asked Marge.

“I thought if I tried hard enough,” he trailed.

Paddy chuckled through the break in the noise and shared a slice of moldy bread.

The two sat sipping in silence where they had been and where they’ll stay rocking. The one watched as the rain fell and the sea filled with boiling fire, and the earth pulled in closer still. He heard rhythm in his frantic breathing and saw seedlings sprouting out of softened soil. The beating of his heart filled his feet and he began to dance.

Night had fallen by then but the forest was bright and the path was clear. So he danced with the gravity pulling him through forest and flood and ocean until daybreak. And when he arrived home he saw the gates and gears of the city lifting and turning, and a river of Red 40 flowing through.