A big thing for Clark is, once he gets a better grasp on his super-hearing, he makes a point of kind of consciously keeping his super-hearing away from Lois’s apartment because “I trust her and respect her privacy” but at the same time he is absolutely attuned to when Lois’s voice reaches a certain pitch/volume (much in the same way he is attuned to people screaming/calling for help or saying “put the gun down” all over the city). So pretty much every morning Clark just fucking perks up like “Lois? Trouble???? Oh wait she’s just singing in the shower. Wow, she is really bad at it. I love her. :)”
And that’s also how she gets terrible songs stuck in his head all day.
And that’s also how
she gets terrible songs stuck
in his head all day.
Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.
Graceful degradation is the ability of a computer, machine, electronic system or network to maintain limited functionality even when a large portion of it has been destroyed or rendered inoperative. The purpose of graceful degradation is to prevent catastrophic failure. (Tech Target, first result on the search engine)
Literal opposite of planned obsolescence. I love you graceful degradation.
Hey kids, wanna learn what signs of botulism look like?
Since the sell by date wasn’t for another 4 days I returned them. I was checking out at the store and I was like “i’m not sure you want to take them out of the bag” and he did and a passing manager was just like “That looks like a bomb, I’m just gonna take it to the back” and was off like a shot.
Okay but seriously, if you have a package of food like this or especially if you have a can that is bulging like this, it is literally full of poison, do not open it and absolutely positively do not eat it under any circumstances.
Any food packaging that is bulging has to be considered unsafe to eat. A lot of people who might be living on their own for the first time don’t know what that looks like, and this is a really, really extreme example, but yeah if the top of a can has become slightly domed from internal pressure that’s going to kill you, don’t eat it.
“Jack of all trades, master of none” … “but ofttimes better than a master of one.”
“Blood is thicker than water.” “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb.”
“Money is the root of all evil.” “The love of money is the root of all evil.”
there’s also “pull yourself up by the bootstraps” which conservatives are oh so fond of saying
bootstraps are, well, straps on your boots. you cannot physically pull yourself up by them, and that’s what the original phrase meant. “pulling oneself up by the bootstraps” is meant to be an impossible task
I recall at least one of you guys having worked with livestock animals. Why are cows so damn indestructible while horses keel over and die if mercury is in retrograde or a dog barked in Kazakhstan?
Let me tell you a story about how livestock animals work.
In the beginning, God created the horse. God looked at the horse and saw that it was beautiful and strong. “However,” God said, “it breaks too easily.”
Then God created the cow. God looked at the cow and saw that it was more durable than the horse, and tasted good to boot. “However,” God said, “it poops too much.”
Then God created the goat. God looked at the goat and saw that it was perfect.
God looked around and saw that he still had some spare bits of fluff on his work table, but no brains to put into it. So then God created the sheep.
Now let me tell you what my equine surgery professor said on the first day of class.
“Horses are only interested in two things: homicide, and suicide.”
And that’s all you need to know about horses.
Except every goat is just waiting its turn to die of pneumonia
Sorry I’m not over “if a dog barked in Kazakhstan”.
My entirely half-assed understanding of Why Horses Explode If You Look At Them Funny, As Explained To Me By My Aunt That Raises Horses After Her Third Glass Of Wine:
Horses don’t got enough toes.
So, back right after the dinosaurs fucked off and joined the choir invisible, the first ancestors of horses were scampering about, little capybara-looking things called Eohippus, and they had four toes per limb:
They functioned pretty well, as near as we can tell from the fossil record, but they were mostly messing around in the leaf litter of dense forests, where one does not necessarily need to be fast but one should be nimble, and the 4 toes per limb worked out pretty good.
But the descendants of Eophippus moved out of the forest where there was lots of cover and onto the open plains, where there was better forage and visibility, but nowhere to hide, so the proto-horses that could ZOOM the fastest and out run thier predators (or, at least, their other herd members) tended to do well. Here’s the thing- having lots of toes means your foot touches the ground longer when you run, and it spreads a lot of your momentum to the sides. Great if you want to pivot and dodge, terrible if you want to ZOOM. So losing toes started being a major advantage for proto-horses:
The Problem with having fewer toes and running Really Fucking Fast is that it kind of fucks your everything else up.
When a horse runs at full gallop, it sort of… stops actively breathing, letting the slosh of it’s guts move its lungs, which is tremendously calorically efficient and means their breathing doesn’t fall out of sync. But it also means that the abdominal lining of a horse is weirdly flexible in ways that lead to way more hernias and intestinal tangling than other ungulates. It also has a relatively weak diaphragm for something it’s size, so ANY kind of respiratory infection is a Major Fucking Problem because the horse has weak lungs.
When a Horse runs Real Fucking Fast, it also develops a bit of a fluid dynamics problem- most mammals have the blood going out of thier heart real fast and coming back from the far reaches of the toes much slower and it’s structure reflects that. But since there is Only The One Toe, horse blood comes flying back up the veins toward the heart way the fuck faster than veins are meant to handle, which means horses had to evolve special veins that constrict to slow the Blood Down, which you will recognize as a Major Cardiovascular Disease in most mammals. This Poorly-regulated blood speed problems means horses are prone to heart problems, burst veins, embolisms, and hemophilia. Also they have apparently a billion blood types and I’m not sure how that’s related but I am sure that’s another Hot Mess they have to deal with.
ALSO, the Blood-Going-Too-Fast issue and being Just Huge Motherfuckers means horses have trouble distributing oxygen properly, and have compensated by creating fucked up bones that replicate the way birds store air in thier bones but much, much shittier. So if a horse breaks it’s leg, not only is it suffering a Major Structural Issue (also also- breaking a toe is much more serious when that toe is YOUR WHOLE DAMN FOOT AND HALF YOUR LEG), it’s also hving a hemmorhage and might be sort of suffocating a little.
ALSO ALSO, the fast that horses had to deal with Extremely Fast Predators for most of thier evolution means that they are now afflicted with evolutionarily-adaptive Anxiety, which is not great for thier already barely-functioning hearts, and makes them, frankly, fucking mental. Part of the reason horses are so aggro is that if deinied the opportunity to ZOOM, it’s options left are “Kill everyone and Then Yourself” or “The same but skip step one and Just Fucking Die”. The other reason is that a horse is in a race against itself- it’s gotta breed before it falls apart, so a Horse basically has a permanent terrorboner.
TL;DR: Horses don’t have enough toes and that makes them very, very fast, but also sickly, structurally unsound, have wildly OP blood that sometimes kills them, and drives them fucking insane.
I am morbidly gratified that my deep suspicion of horses has grounding!
A Utah parent has submitted a request to her school district to review the Bible for content that has gotten other books banned from libraries. “Incest, onanism, bestiality, prostitution, genital mutilation, fellatio, dildos, rape, and even infanticide,” the parent wrote, according to the The Salt Lake Tribune. “You’ll no doubt find that the Bible, under Utah Code Ann. § 76-10-1227, has ‘no serious values for minors’ because it’s pornographic by our new definition.” The district said it will treat the request like another, but it may take a while because it is reviewing so many other books flagged by community members.
being cisgender is just not an option for a lot of intersex people.
i was never given the option to be cisgender anything. every part of me that deviated from what a girl or boy “should” look like spelled trouble. because i dressed and acted very masculine, before puberty, people called me a bulldyke, a butch lesbian, a “girl pretending to be a boy” and “not a real boy”. i was never “feminine enough” to be a woman.
after puberty hit, i started growing a beard, and my shoulders and chest got broader and more square. my body became more “masculine”, so suddenly, i was labeled as a “boy pretending to be a girl” and “not a real girl”. after I started testosterone, i haven’t stopped being called a faggot, a fairy, a sissy or a pansy because i’m not “masculine enough” to be a man despite being a bear.
there’s no winning in the eyes of a society that’s so focused on binary this-or-that choices. i had no hand in the matter, this all happened way before I started testosterone HRT. in fact, even when i was placed on estrogenHRT to try to “correct” my intersex traits and symptoms, i still wasn’t gendered or seen as a cis woman. i was still the same tranny bulldyke. no matter what i do, my intersex and transsexual traits will always be weaponized against me; whatever sounds the “worst” at the time, or whatever invalidates what i want.
in order to liberate trans people from this struggle, we must also liberate intersex people, for our struggles are virtually one in the same. our fight for body and identity autonomy is shared. it will always be impossible for me and other intersex people to be viewed as cis anything while white American society remains focused on pointing out the “differences” between men and women, instead of embracing the similarities we all can and do have.
intersex and trans people owe it to one another to disassemble these dangerous attitudes and shut them down when and where possible. it’s not only trans people who face this struggle- intersex people deal with never being able to pass or be clocked as their actual gender from birth a lot of the time. people MUST understand that women and men come in all types of bodies, shapes and sexes, whether or not they chose to look like that. and whether or not they chose doesn’t matter, they deserve to be treated with dignity and respect, which means being gendered correctly despite how they look or sound.
If you ever find yourself in a horror scenario, remember to blush really hard when the ghost/demon/monster appears. If you do that fast enough you might be able to shift the genre.
This applies doubly if the antagonist is more abstract. If a house starts growing teeth and flesh you’ve gotta be prepared to get a little freaky
It’s fun reading writers who clearly grew up in suburban/urban environments as someone who grew up on a farm because they’re always like “oh it was so creepy, woods at night, eerily breathtaking, something was living in there…” and it’s like yeah that’ll be the deer.
EXACTLY
Same can be said about city streets. Random “gunshot” and “explosion” noises? That’s the road construction crew behind the corner. Mysterious howling and barking out of nowhere echoing through the street? That’s someone’s dumb dog that locked itself out on the balcony on the 3rd floor above you and buildings just happen to have the shape where certain areas just vibrate with echoes from all sides at once. Screeching of car tires and agressive shouting? Fucking teens are at it again.
But the city is the creepiest when it’s silent because if there are no cars and no chitchat and no humm of an A/C unit, then where is everybody?
Meanwhile in a rural area if you hear a gunshot that’s actually a gunshot
It’s nothing to worry about though, unless you hear a long, screaming NYOOM accompanying it. The Looney Tunes sound effect for flying bullets is legitimately almost what bullets flying past your head actually sounds like.
Look, if you’re starving in a post-apocalyptic wasteland and suddenly someone is like ‘oh I have tons of food and it just happens to be meat do you want some lol’ you CANNOT act surprised when it’s people. You simply CANNOT.
There are times and places where it is realistic to expect NOT to be served people. For example, in a pie shop underneath a barber shop. THEN you can be all 'OH GOD IT’S PEOPLE.’
If you are in a post-apocalyptic wasteland and are suddenly served a really good meat pie, you have to know it’s people. Do you see any cows? No, they all apocalypsed. It’s your neighbor.
If you’re served food in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, ask yourself these questions first:
Do I trust the person feeding me?
Is this meat fresh, and if so, have there been any livestock non-apocalypsed recently?
Have I seen Kevin within the past week?
Am I willing to commit the penultimate culinary taboo? (The ultimate culinary taboo is putting pineapple on pizza, a crime I regularly commit)
“your mom” is a metaphysical concept to me. when i make a “your mom” joke the last thing im thinking about is my friends actual moms, who i usually don’t respect. the mom is a metaphor. the esoteric concept of mom. hope this helps.
I’ve been looking at (the honestly alarming numbers of) young-earth creationist books also, which makes me furious. But also it’s so interesting the specific ways they’re wrong about science and how those reflect the average person’s misunderstandings of science. But also these people had a lot of influence on the USA education system and weaseled their way into convincing a large area of the world that there was a “debate” between evolution and creationism, and probably they’re the REASON for a lot of misunderstandings about science, particularly evolution
With misinformation, there is a zone beyond the realm of incorrect ideas that can be remedied with correct ones, where the very words being used to discuss a concept are being so thoroughly misused that you cannot address anything the other person is saying without journeying deep into the malformed version of reality they have constructed. You would need to teach the equivalent of several college-level courses to pull them from the abyss they’ve got themselves into.
The cruel difficulty of this situation is that you will never be prepared for this person’s questions because before you can coherently answer them, you must first process what they have said and work out what on earth it means to them, archaeologically excavating and reconstructing their alternate version of the universe in order to understand how that universe differs from the real one and how to translate reality into a form they can understand.
Inevitably, when you stammer and scrabble for footing on the shifting sands of their pseudoscientific sand castle, they will interpret this as evidence that they have deftly outsmarted your trickery and deception with Facts and Logic, and if you happen to be a science educator or scientist, they will post a video to YouTube of the whole exchange with the caption “Evolutionist arguments DESTROYED by one simple question!”
This is how I feel about this page.
Sir. The reason there are no “transitional forms” in the fossil record, is that there is no such thing as a transitional form. Every organism fits into a category because we create categories to describe organisms that we find. We made the categories up. There is no difference between organisms “within” categories and organisms “between” those categories because all organisms are evolving constantly. Everything is a transitional form between the thing it descended from and the thing it evolved into.
thinking about the 81 year old man who came into the shop today with a shirt that read “BIKESEXUAL [insert raw skeleton on a motorcycle] I’LL RIDE JUST ABOUT ANYTHING”
I’m obsessed. he was buying chrysanthemums with his wife
had a dream last night where I took a uquiz called “what do you serve?” and at first the questions were standard but as the quiz progressed they became more and more highly specific to me personally and the answers became more and more similar and I realised the quiz Knew me and was forcing me into being honest by giving me no other option so I tried to click out but it just went to the next question which was “are you the spider? or are you the web?” and it had an option for each but I didn’t click either so it then turned to a text box and I typed “I think I’m the fly” and the quiz paused for a while and then took me to a results page that said “you serve truth” and the description just read “what you know will kill you but you will die laughing” so like. good morning everyone I guess :/
OP I think the devil visited you in your sleep
“What you know will kill you but you will die laughing” needs to be added to that list of profound statements from unlikely sources.
the spider one too while we’re at it what the fuck
oh so they’re just saying the quiet part out loud? Good to know they’re just out and open now
That’s not the quiet part.
There’s something else, something they might not even be fully aware of themselves. The real quiet part is that if it was *their* child or *their* ectopic pregnancy they’d pull out all the stops to save their life or get their grandchild aborted. Planned Parenthood sees reactionaries and regressives all the time, and they are every bit the nightmare patients you’d imagine them to be. But the one thing all those patients have in common is that *their* abortion is *justified*, and the next week they’ll be outside the clinic again, rejoining the protestors for “killing their baby”.
It’d be one thing to have ghoulish principles, but the far-right have none at all.
When I was younger and had more time to waste on the internet, and spent a lot of time in various online forums getting into arguments – on purpose – I made up a game I called Six Degrees of Slut.
The game (which is a variation on the well known Six Degrees of Bacon) was very simple. In any discussion of abortion, see whether you could get the other side to articulate, within six back-and-forth exchanges, some variation of The Filthy Sluts Must Be Punished. Regardless of where their argument started, the goal of the game was to get them to admit that.
I never once lost a game of Six Degrees of Slut. On a few occasions the match was inconclusive - the other person left off arguing before we reached round six - but I never lost; I never once reached six rounds of debate with a prolifer without them expressing some variation on this sentiment. But what was really remarkable to me was, a lot of times, that there was no effort involved at all – they would blurt it out themselves, with effectively no provocation.
Scratch a prolifer, and you’ll find right under the surface the conviction that The Filthy Sluts Must Be Punished. I have never once yet found an exception. Sometimes you don’t even have to scratch.
oh so they’re just saying the quiet part out loud? Good to know they’re just out and open now
That’s not the quiet part.
There’s something else, something they might not even be fully aware of themselves. The real quiet part is that if it was *their* child or *their* ectopic pregnancy they’d pull out all the stops to save their life or get their grandchild aborted. Planned Parenthood sees reactionaries and regressives all the time, and they are every bit the nightmare patients you’d imagine them to be. But the one thing all those patients have in common is that *their* abortion is *justified*, and the next week they’ll be outside the clinic again, rejoining the protestors for “killing their baby”.
It’d be one thing to have ghoulish principles, but the far-right have none at all.
When I was younger and had more time to waste on the internet, and spent a lot of time in various online forums getting into arguments – on purpose – I made up a game I called Six Degrees of Slut.
The game (which is a variation on the well known Six Degrees of Bacon) was very simple. In any discussion of abortion, see whether you could get the other side to articulate, within six back-and-forth exchanges, some variation of The Filthy Sluts Must Be Punished. Regardless of where their argument started, the goal of the game was to get them to admit that.
I never once lost a game of Six Degrees of Slut. On a few occasions the match was inconclusive - the other person left off arguing before we reached round six - but I never lost; I never once reached six rounds of debate with a prolifer without them expressing some variation on this sentiment. But what was really remarkable to me was, a lot of times, that there was no effort involved at all – they would blurt it out themselves, with effectively no provocation.
Scratch a prolifer, and you’ll find right under the surface the conviction that The Filthy Sluts Must Be Punished. I have never once yet found an exception. Sometimes you don’t even have to scratch.
ALT
