“Fifteen days to flatten the curve.”
Whatever happened with that bullshit, hm? I guess the curve flattened us. Forever.
Continue reading“Fifteen days to flatten the curve.”
Whatever happened with that bullshit, hm? I guess the curve flattened us. Forever.
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On the first of May, 2018, sometime about a half-hour before noon, a bar appeared underneath every post on the social networking site Facebook.
I had awakened earlier, in a panic attack, and been scrolling my “newsfeed” in a wrongheaded attempt to relieve my state of depressive shock. Believe it or not, sometimes it works. I find pictures of kitties, or baby hedgehogs, or pretty girls with their whatnots hanging out. Maybe an inspiring story or a naughty bit of humor. I feel better, and get on with the tasks of the day.
But this new snitch bar made things way, way worse.
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A stalker once told me, as though it validated his abhorrent behavior, “You can pick your nose, and you can pick your friends, but you can’t pick your friends’ friends.” Admittedly, that’s partly true.
I mean, you’re welcome to pick your nose, if you’d like to be ostracized from society and make everyone sick at the same time. You can pick your friends, provided they’re in the same socio-economic class as you are, and they don’t consort with a better version of your identity. And you can’t pick your friends’ friends, who, for all you know, could be royalty, or morally repugnant wasted orgasms.
If you create art and/or entertainment, you don’t get to pick and choose who likes it.
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Filed under Bad Influences, Don't Know Don't Care, Girls of BIUL, Uncategorized
I need to do my job as a website manager and give you something you need, that you didn’t know you did. Don’t get spoiled, this won’t happen very often. But if I’m hurting, which I am now more than ever, it means that the rest of the world is hurting even more.
So here’s what you need.
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Filed under Girls of BIUL, Site Stuff, Uncategorized
When you listen to a professional newscaster, you are hearing an “all-purpose” American accent, very similar to how black comedians make fun of white guys. It’s a mode of speaking designed to be understood by a wide variety of ages and backgrounds. It’s also totally alien sounding, especially when they lapse into a Spanish voice for words like “Nicaragua”.
In 1990, I relocated from New Jersey to Georgia. Originally, I had a curt New Jersey accent, like Jim Norton. My first year, I roomed with a guy from Rhode Island, and when I went back to Jersey for vacation, my friends couldn’t believe what a horror show my speaking voice had become. I was the caricature of the braying Yankee.
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Filed under Faint Signals, Uncategorized, Worst Of All
Feel like crying?
There’s an entire genre of movies, TV shows and music, explicitly designed to mollify you in your time of emotional distress. Plus, there’s a contrived ending that tells you everything’s okay. Or not. It’s basically sadness porn, after all.
Feel like laughing? Same deal. Entire blocks of television programming are devoted to laughter, loaded with disparate commercials for unhealthy items and services. You can “binge-watch” every stand-up special a comedian has produced, and then argue about a decrease in their edge, on the Internet. Isn’t that fantastic?
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Filed under Don't Know Don't Care, Eatable Things, Idiot's Delight, Nostalgic Obsessions, Robot Toy Fetish, Uncategorized, Worst Of All
Although I predicted that Donald Trump would become the 45th president of the United States, I did not vote for him. If I had, I’d be seeking help from a medical professional.
Not because I’m insane, you asshole. Because I’d be paranoid that a significant percentage of Americans want me to die in agony. And I don’t need that shit. I didn’t struggle to become who I am so that some high-school dropout could make me a statistic in a bullshit battle of “who’s the fascist”. Continue reading
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Filed under Bad Influences, Comix Classic & Current, Don't Know Don't Care, Idiot's Delight, Uncategorized, Worst Of All
The most corrosive aspect of social media like Facebook is this: unhappiness is treated like a disease.
As an American, you are not guaranteed happiness- only the pursuit of it. Practically every single person on Earth has differing ideas about what makes them happy. If you appear unhappy to others, their reactions will range from concern to disgust (see above). Your family will either try to “fix” you, reject you, or hand you over to medical personnel.
For some weird reason, you’re “not supposed” to be unhappy.
Let me let you in on a little secret.
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You made it to 2017! Against all odds, you’re still here, reading this. Give yourself a round of applause!
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Filed under Don't Know Don't Care, Late To The Party, Uncategorized
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