Little knitted pigeon enjoying come crisps on the pavement…
I thought that only the bag of chips was knitted so I was like lmaoo fucking idiot bird got owned then I saw that the bird was knitted as well then I realized I was the fucking idiot bird getting owned
Happy 10th birthday to tumblr user 2-shane-s being the fucking idiot bird getting owned
Good news. we can finally Be Bees. this isn’t your world, but we can Be Bees. this is Good news. you can Be a Bee. you’ll live like a Bee. A Pet. A pet? A Pet. Mark, this is Good news. You’ll live. for 30 years. THIS IS INSANE
I spent a lot of time handcuffed and in a cage in high school, for a charity bit the grocery store I worked at would do
the bit was that I was “put in jail for having too big a heart” and customers could donate to my bail to get me out (and the money would go to a children’s hospital or something)
now. I was very clearly a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a large cage. and I would honestly tell people that I had been in there for hours. and people would say, that’s terrible! that’s awful! and I would show them my wrists red from the tight handcuffs, and say but I’m sooooooo close to making bail.
and then they would dump some cash in the basket, I’d thank them, and they’d walk away.
and every so often, one of the managers would come by and collect some of the cash, so I could keep being soooooo close to making bail.
I was very good with this bit. Parents with small kids would pay $5-10 if I told their children I had been placed in jail for not cleaning my room/doing my homework, etc. For people in their 20s, I’d threaten that I was very bad at playing the harmonica, but I WOULD play it and we’d all suffer unless they paid me. and for the most amount of money, older men in suits would almost always pay $20s if I avoided eye contact and stammered a lot.
eventually, the managers started to feel bad because I was in the cage so fucking long and often, that I’d need someone to brace me when I got out because I’d have no feeling in my legs. wobbling like a newborn giraffe.
but I would also rake in at LEAST $100 an hour in charity.
so they were like, hey champ. can we, uh, give you a pillow to sit on. in the cage. would you like a pillow so you’re not just sitting on a cold metal slab. can we give you a pillow.
and I had to explain to them that if they gave me a pillow, people would think I was more comfortable, so they wouldn’t feel as bad, so I’d bring in less money.
the compromise was that they’d bring me a nice coffee every couple hours, which I would have to try to block with my body from the customers.
all this money went to charity. that’s what the money was for. it’s what was on the sign. but how much they were willing to pay was very contingent on how comfortable I looked, never mind the fact that I was still a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a cage.
and out of the dozens of shifts I did this on, not ONCE did ANYONE say, hey kid I’m going to go talk to your manager because what the fuck is going on here. they would just drop money in the basket, and I’d thank them and sip from my secret drink.
I actually had people get MAD at me that I told them I was far away from bail, they donated like $15, and then 20 minutes I got let out because my shift ended.
again. the money was for charity. it was on the sign that was very clearly placed on the upper half of my cage.
so yeah. even when people think they mean well. people can be really, really fucking stupid.
took me a bit but this is roughly what the cage looked like, without the middle platform
It was something that was originally used in the back for carting boxes, but was repurposed into a teenager cage
they’d wheel it out and the one open side would be backed against either a wall or a large display (like very tall rows of soda boxes or something)
Then I’d get in, they’d push the thing so it would be as flush as possible against the wall, and then I’d stick my hands through the bars for them to handcuff me. there’d be a sign up top explaining the bit, and then a shopping basket tied on front for people to drop the money into.
the handcuffs were fake, and I could unlock them myself for obvious safety reasons. I would get more donations if they were tight, though.
After maybe a month or two, I asked for a harmonica to sell the bit. they also tried giving me a mug, but it was too awkward with the handcuffs. I got kind of okay at playing the harmonica, but the main point was just to do one sharp blast to startle people into looking down, and then I’d threaten that I had no idea how to play, but would do so anyway unless they donated to my bail. managers actually got me a prison jumpsuit to throw over my uniform, but it was really fucking awkward so we stopped eventually. I also got a metric fuckton of mardi gras beads so I could lure small children over, to then mournfully tell them of my imprisonment due to not cleaning my room, etc. parents would be moderately irritated that I’d lured their children over with beads, but would respect the game that I’d given their kids a whole new fear. I had some parents even ad lib what I could have been thrown in prison for. guaranteed donations.
obviously, the prison bit worked best with younger girls. my roughly 50-60 year old manager once congratulated me on doing so well with the donations because I “looked like a cute sad little puppy in one of those RSPCA commercials. like a helpless puppy or a kitten.” wearing makeup and earrings also increased the rate of donations.
had to explain to another girl how I regularly got $20s, which was when an older guy in a suit walked by I’d rattle my handcuffs slightly to draw attention. 10/10 times the guy would walk over, and I had to tell this girl like. If you avoid eye contact and sound uncertain you will get at least $20. I am sorry. this is for children’s cancer research.
cannot stress enough that the other employees fought to get to be in the cage. customers were so awful and the weather was so shitty. jail meant sitting down with very few expectations, talking and joking with people.
Anyway. Shit was definitely not an allegory, though it could be used as one for about 11 different things.
I spent a lot of time handcuffed and in a cage in high school, for a charity bit the grocery store I worked at would do
the bit was that I was “put in jail for having too big a heart” and customers could donate to my bail to get me out (and the money would go to a children’s hospital or something)
now. I was very clearly a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a large cage. and I would honestly tell people that I had been in there for hours. and people would say, that’s terrible! that’s awful! and I would show them my wrists red from the tight handcuffs, and say but I’m sooooooo close to making bail.
and then they would dump some cash in the basket, I’d thank them, and they’d walk away.
and every so often, one of the managers would come by and collect some of the cash, so I could keep being soooooo close to making bail.
I was very good with this bit. Parents with small kids would pay $5-10 if I told their children I had been placed in jail for not cleaning my room/doing my homework, etc. For people in their 20s, I’d threaten that I was very bad at playing the harmonica, but I WOULD play it and we’d all suffer unless they paid me. and for the most amount of money, older men in suits would almost always pay $20s if I avoided eye contact and stammered a lot.
eventually, the managers started to feel bad because I was in the cage so fucking long and often, that I’d need someone to brace me when I got out because I’d have no feeling in my legs. wobbling like a newborn giraffe.
but I would also rake in at LEAST $100 an hour in charity.
so they were like, hey champ. can we, uh, give you a pillow to sit on. in the cage. would you like a pillow so you’re not just sitting on a cold metal slab. can we give you a pillow.
and I had to explain to them that if they gave me a pillow, people would think I was more comfortable, so they wouldn’t feel as bad, so I’d bring in less money.
the compromise was that they’d bring me a nice coffee every couple hours, which I would have to try to block with my body from the customers.
all this money went to charity. that’s what the money was for. it’s what was on the sign. but how much they were willing to pay was very contingent on how comfortable I looked, never mind the fact that I was still a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a cage.
and out of the dozens of shifts I did this on, not ONCE did ANYONE say, hey kid I’m going to go talk to your manager because what the fuck is going on here. they would just drop money in the basket, and I’d thank them and sip from my secret drink.
I actually had people get MAD at me that I told them I was far away from bail, they donated like $15, and then 20 minutes I got let out because my shift ended.
again. the money was for charity. it was on the sign that was very clearly placed on the upper half of my cage.
so yeah. even when people think they mean well. people can be really, really fucking stupid.
took me a bit but this is roughly what the cage looked like, without the middle platform
It was something that was originally used in the back for carting boxes, but was repurposed into a teenager cage
they’d wheel it out and the one open side would be backed against either a wall or a large display (like very tall rows of soda boxes or something)
Then I’d get in, they’d push the thing so it would be as flush as possible against the wall, and then I’d stick my hands through the bars for them to handcuff me. there’d be a sign up top explaining the bit, and then a shopping basket tied on front for people to drop the money into.
the handcuffs were fake, and I could unlock them myself for obvious safety reasons. I would get more donations if they were tight, though.
After maybe a month or two, I asked for a harmonica to sell the bit. they also tried giving me a mug, but it was too awkward with the handcuffs. I got kind of okay at playing the harmonica, but the main point was just to do one sharp blast to startle people into looking down, and then I’d threaten that I had no idea how to play, but would do so anyway unless they donated to my bail. managers actually got me a prison jumpsuit to throw over my uniform, but it was really fucking awkward so we stopped eventually. I also got a metric fuckton of mardi gras beads so I could lure small children over, to then mournfully tell them of my imprisonment due to not cleaning my room, etc. parents would be moderately irritated that I’d lured their children over with beads, but would respect the game that I’d given their kids a whole new fear. I had some parents even ad lib what I could have been thrown in prison for. guaranteed donations.
obviously, the prison bit worked best with younger girls. my roughly 50-60 year old manager once congratulated me on doing so well with the donations because I “looked like a cute sad little puppy in one of those RSPCA commercials. like a helpless puppy or a kitten.” wearing makeup and earrings also increased the rate of donations.
had to explain to another girl how I regularly got $20s, which was when an older guy in a suit walked by I’d rattle my handcuffs slightly to draw attention. 10/10 times the guy would walk over, and I had to tell this girl like. If you avoid eye contact and sound uncertain you will get at least $20. I am sorry. this is for children’s cancer research.
cannot stress enough that the other employees fought to get to be in the cage. customers were so awful and the weather was so shitty. jail meant sitting down with very few expectations, talking and joking with people.
Anyway. Shit was definitely not an allegory, though it could be used as one for about 11 different things.
afaik these are all pretty comfy, queer-friendly instances. Do check the rules about nsfw content etc and check if the post character limit is to your liking.
Remember to fill out your profile before sending follow requests and to add content warnings (CW) to sensitive posts :3
The main reason people don’t make that switch though is because the fediverse is extremely fractured by design. A key part of why people enjoy social media is in order to encounter people with viewpoints outside of their own, and because you can theoretically find anything you’re looking for when there’s a large enough volume of people.
Frequently the overmoderation and/or under moderation of various fediverse instances makes it hard to feel like your message is reaching the people you want to reach, it always feels like you’re in the wrong instance, no matter what, whether due to some petty drama surrounding an open source dev you’ve never heard of cloging your feed for an entire week, or long stretches of dead silence.
And oh god, don’t even get me started on the “global” page, if I wanted to be sold AI and NFTs I’d use X.
The inherrant design flaw of the fediverse is the exact thing it’s marketed on. This is also why people tend to find it so hard to use.
Because installing an app and making an account, posting liking and sharing… these are all simple actions. The challenge is that you are faced with a choice, and even with a full understanding of what that choice entails, it always feels like the wrong one.
My key memories of being on the fediverse are composed of refreshing the page over and over because there wasn’t a new post from any of my local networks for hours on end.
If you do access a feed that has people posting stuff, then the lack of any kind of algorithm results in that content often being kinda trash. Believe it or not, the algorithm isn’t just present to waste your time. Truthfully, it could be used to save you time.
Much of the recent success of linux stems from it consistantly across the board finally being able to deliver on the promise that no matter the choice you make, it’s better than windows. Partly because valve was able to get it to perform better when running windows games than windows can, but also partly because Microsoft keeps making windows worse.
For as long as people can still find weird, written smut on tumblr, they’re gonna keep using it.
For the fediverse to thrive, it needs to find a way to stand out other than being the “not bad social media platform.”
It needs to properly rethink social media from the ground up, especially with the approach it is taking. Or it will die trying.
Your conclusion is wrong, sorry. It doesn’t die because it’s already succeeding.
You’re right in that many people won’t move, because fedi is a social network in contrast to social media.
And I don’t want my message to reach people, i just want a chill place to hang out with moots where we show each other cool things we do. Without influencers, advertisements and US politics. Like early days tumblr, instead of like twitter and instagram.
My key memories of being on the fediverse are composed of refreshing the page over and over because there wasn’t a new post from any of my local networks for hours on end.
TROD AU doodles. Spring is coming aka Narinder has game era. Or at the very least the slow burn is actually starting to burn. Scenes for later (probably)
“wise master,” said the student, “how can i attain greatness at posting?”
“simple,” replied the master. “through patience and long practice.”
“but master,” said the student, bursting out with impatience, “every time i go online i see people my age getting 50k notes, 100k notes!”
the master chuckled. “the self-assuredness of the 22-year-old lends itself well to the occasional callow foray into posting, it’s true. but for posts of true substance, one must turn to the mentally ill 30-something tgirls. observe.”
she pulled up a post on her phone. the student peered at it. he did not laugh. he said, “but master – this post only has 12 notes. and it’s not even funny.”
Rocks. I sometimes wonder what I’d do if I had Frederick Barbarossa’s resources and the leisure time to indulge my fantasy of amassing a large collection of pretty rocks.
Honestly, y'all, I’m begging you. Take the time to think and learn for yourself. Even if it’s just something casual like knitting or cooking. Exercise your brain. It’s important.
the autism thing of having to learn to preface every question you ask with Holy Shit I’m Just Curious Please Dont Yell At Me because it turns out a lot of questions seem to Mean Something and people will get mad if you ask them
It’s fascinating how a lot of Evangelical Christian anxiety about Satanism seems to be rooted in the unspoken idea that if the Devil gathers enough worship he’ll depose God and become the new God, because that’s not the party line in any major religion, but it is how it works in Dungeons & Dragons.
I don’t know who needs to hear this but please please please please please explore the settings. Of your phone, computer, of every app you use. Investigate the UI, toggle some things around and see what happens. You won’t break anything irreperably without a confirmation box asking you if you really mean to do that thing. And you can just look up what a setting will do before touching it if you’re really worried ok?
Worst case scenario you just have to change the settings back if you don’t like what happened but it is so so so important to explore the tools available to you and gain a better understanding for how the stuff you use works.
Even if you already know. Even if you’re comfortable with how you use it now. You don’t just have to accept whtever experience has been handed to you by default and it’s good for you to at least know what’s available to you.
Yeah. I’ve been “good at computers” since I was a kid and since I was a kid I’ve been telling people that all it is is a willingness to look at settings and push buttons.
Computers are good at “are you sure?” and “reset to defaults”. There’s a safety net. Go look at the options, and push ‘em if you’re not sure. That’s like 90% of being “good at computers” : not being scared to push buttons and fiddle with options when something is broken or you need to learn a new thing
My mom treated me like a computer wizard because I knew where in the settings menu to look up her pc’s specs to see if she had a graphics card or not. It’s literally behind like two menus max. Please investigate your technology, capitalism wants you in a walled garden, one of the best ways you can fight back is spending some time finding the weak bricks.
It’s Beebo time again, this time Haunted House flavored!
I love dissecting how magic systems and worldbuilding shenanigans happen, so imagine the catnip of a story I was given when I got to figure out the Detective Beebo timeloop mechanics and some larger possible implications,,,,,,I am in shambles thank you Bwob, anyway, here are some ramblings about the first “organic” timeloop I’ve seen in media as well as what I think the deal is with the haunted houses!
… the worst bit is I know several people this could be, especially given the ‘in Australia’ clarification
If you know them then there’s a chance I might know some of them and that thought will keep me up at night.
This wasn’t the guy who we all know who used to spray his jeans with Mortein and then light himself on fire, was it?
He used to sit at the back of the bus, cup his hand, spray deodorant into it, then open it and light it on fire with a lighter in one fell swoop to try and impress girls.
He had to stop because the bus company begged our school to tell him to stop bc of legal liability. His hands never actually got damaged after doing it for about a year.
I reached out to my old friend in question here, because I’ve been thinking about him all day.
I do not know what “the amulet” is. I have no idea what “the amulet” is referring to.
I instantly remembered when he said that.
While we were all at the local park doing legal things that teenagers would do back in the late 2000s, my friend here found a rock at our old smoke spot that was unusually smooth and flat. He liked it so much that he took it to the woodwork classrooms at school, drilled a hole in it, and hung it on a necklace.
When we asked why he weanwearing this dinky-ass pebble on his neck, he claimed it prevented him from ever getting food-related illnesses: wouldn’t get food poisoning, couldn’t over-eat, was able to ingest anything (prior to him finding The Amulet, a few of us used to play a game called “Devil’s Piss” where we would take turns shoving random food bits into a bottle of coke, and the first person to take a sip would get two dollars from the other players).
When we all asked him for the proof that this rock is magical—because nobody believed him, obviously—he said to meet him behind the History block at lunch, where he said he would drink two litres (or half a gallon) of milk in one go and not puke.
We met him there, and about ten of us all watched him down a whole bottle of strawberry milk in two or three breaths.
He didn’t puke.
He jumped up and down and punched his stomach to prove it.
He still didn’t puke.
I’m so glad I’m alive.
man, one time in 10th grade, we were dissecting rats and we all pooled together like 3-5 dollars each for one of our classmates to eat a preserved rat testicle. he did, and then he just vanished, like legit gone, no one heard from him until like 2021, the incident happened in 2008
turns out his (military) dad was deployed to japan and he’s fine, he just thought he’d pull the biggest “ha, got you” he just legit shipped the family out as soon as school let out that day.
… the worst bit is I know several people this could be, especially given the ‘in Australia’ clarification
If you know them then there’s a chance I might know some of them and that thought will keep me up at night.
This wasn’t the guy who we all know who used to spray his jeans with Mortein and then light himself on fire, was it?
He used to sit at the back of the bus, cup his hand, spray deodorant into it, then open it and light it on fire with a lighter in one fell swoop to try and impress girls.
He had to stop because the bus company begged our school to tell him to stop bc of legal liability. His hands never actually got damaged after doing it for about a year.
I reached out to my old friend in question here, because I’ve been thinking about him all day.
I do not know what “the amulet” is. I have no idea what “the amulet” is referring to.
I instantly remembered when he said that.
While we were all at the local park doing legal things that teenagers would do back in the late 2000s, my friend here found a rock at our old smoke spot that was unusually smooth and flat. He liked it so much that he took it to the woodwork classrooms at school, drilled a hole in it, and hung it on a necklace.
When we asked why he weanwearing this dinky-ass pebble on his neck, he claimed it prevented him from ever getting food-related illnesses: wouldn’t get food poisoning, couldn’t over-eat, was able to ingest anything (prior to him finding The Amulet, a few of us used to play a game called “Devil’s Piss” where we would take turns shoving random food bits into a bottle of coke, and the first person to take a sip would get two dollars from the other players).
When we all asked him for the proof that this rock is magical—because nobody believed him, obviously—he said to meet him behind the History block at lunch, where he said he would drink two litres (or half a gallon) of milk in one go and not puke.
We met him there, and about ten of us all watched him down a whole bottle of strawberry milk in two or three breaths.
He didn’t puke.
He jumped up and down and punched his stomach to prove it.
He still didn’t puke.
I’m so glad I’m alive.
man, one time in 10th grade, we were dissecting rats and we all pooled together like 3-5 dollars each for one of our classmates to eat a preserved rat testicle. he did, and then he just vanished, like legit gone, no one heard from him until like 2021, the incident happened in 2008
turns out his (military) dad was deployed to japan and he’s fine, he just thought he’d pull the biggest “ha, got you” he just legit shipped the family out as soon as school let out that day.
this looks like a sterling engine. fire is normal for most sterling engines, they run off the transfer of heat and fire is a common source of heat used in a lot of sterling engines
should there be THIS MUCH fire though
well, sterling engines don’t have any flammable fuel in and of themselves so it’s probably fine
Today my professor picked up a garter snake, said “Ow!” five times as it bit him, set it back down, and said, “Okay. That’s one defense mechanism snakes have.”
Today my professor picked up a garter snake, said “Ow!” five times as it bit him, set it back down, and said, “Okay. That’s one defense mechanism snakes have.”
ALT
ALT
