if i had a time machine and i wanted to absolutely destroy an ancient emperor or king, i would take them to the shark tunnel of an aquarium. giving them an ozymandias view of their legacy would do nothing, they can see that all empires rot just by looking around them. but the shark tunnel of an aquarium is something they haven’t seen before, something no one has seen before, something magnificent that they could build with technology only slightly out of their reach. they would bankrupt their nation trying to recreate that shark tunnel for themself. their dynasty would collapse within three generations, and, if heaven is on my side, they themself will be eaten by a shark to the delight of generations of historians to come
Oh, crap, I can't get away from this prescriptivist asshole, there's nothing beyond the wall but water
I imagined a dyscalculic child, who isn't getting any help or support in learning math, nobody understands that they just don't get it...
Nobody understands that the child tries to solve math problems by making up stories about the numbers and operational symbols, fascinating, beautiful mythical or fairy-tale stories, and "drawing" the ending of the stories where the solutions should go.
Every math problem is a hypothetical situation involving stock characters, and the child believes they have to parse exactly what the situation is supposed to be, given the limited "shorthand" consisting of numbers and operational symbols and the arithmetical frameworks, and work out what the result would be.
And nobody, or almost nobody, ever gets to hear the stories.
YES, Fizz's parts are the ones that are living rent-free in my head, oh, I know the empty sick feeling in his stomach far too well!
This is very close to the original concept behind Anguish Languish: words now have to be rationed, just like other war supplies. We have to make do with the words we have plenty of.
OK so my shitpost R&D department was researching the viability of a jocular analogy between national language regulators, war rationing, and soviet bread lines. This isn't a viable product right now so you'll have to just kind of imagine that it's funny, but the idea is, like, people are running out of words because they offshored development and then a war footing devastated international trade, so now there aren't enough words to go around and the government is publishing all these posters encouraging people not to waste them. The government has stepped into nationalize word production and distribution but because all the best words are going to the Posters on the war front, the public has to spend hours in line just to get a random selection of words that they can hardly use. People have to find a way to smuggle in illegal foreign words or rely on unsafe home-brewed vocabulary while repurposing all the new words for munitions and war strategy to talk about groceries and romance. Barter dominates, especially in the provinces, as people try to scrounge together a functional vocabulary to educate their children.
Anyway I'm dropping it because I realized that while this is hard to make into a good joke, it would actually be a fantastic strategy/puzzle game. Someone go make that!
Oh, hey, are the Helluva Boss goat fans gonna invade the Cult of the Lamb fandom now?
Sure, I'm down. I have no clue, but I can help organize.
The cult shall continue to grow
nosferatu? non. VOSferatu. c'est pas mon problème
So I'm just sitting here at my computer, scrolling Tumblr, when a little male Giant Brown spider hits the bottom windowsill behind my screen. Almost immediately a HUGE female Giant Brown scurries up to it. They sit there listening for each other for a moment, then the female moves closer, feels the male trying to get away, and pounces on him, grabs him, and carries him off out of sight.
Spider procreation is so distressing to see.
Also, I need to deep clean my room.
Pro Tip:
I have thousands of shitposts, rants, and essays sitting in notebooks, left over from decades of not using social media or having many friends. Hold on tight.
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