Oh hey Scott Alexander made a big long post about how Trump's totally not a racist, because in order to be a racist you have to wear a signed affidavit around your neck that says "I am a racist"
I don't mean he doesn't care about anybody else, it's just that he never really internalizes the thoughts and feelings of other people beyond the level he needs to in order to not make the people he loves upset with him.
Like, a microcosm of this is him scheduling our flight on Monday for 5:00 AM
Like, the fact that we're gonna have to wake up mega-early and might not be able to say goodbye to mom, who can't possibly drive that far that early doesn't register for him, he just wants a whole day with us.
Given the way his life has gone, this might be a defense mechanism that has worked out well for him idk
Late 30s, Early 40s. Heavily balding. Generally cheery demeanor. Earrings in. Fairly chubby. Leg in one of those pseudo-casts that allow you to walk but with a limp.
I tried to help her with loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt, but she said no.
So, apparently someone tried to rip-off Skullgirls, except instead of appealing to standard male cheesecake tropes, it appealed to standard furry tropes.
It has somehow managed to become the anti-Skullgirls. Where Skullgirls was successful, competently made, and profited greatly from a good relationship with its fanbase, Beast's Fury did the exact opposite. I mean, frig, they made the production of Daikatana look reasonable compared to it.
I sort of wish it wasn't a failure. It had Balrog, but as a horse. That's pretty amazing.
There was a fire drill at my Halls for everyone in every block.
My response upon hearing the fire alarm?
"What's the high pitched noise? Oh, it's the fire alarm. Let me just grab my iPod and phone and keys and lock my room before casually strolling downstairs and out my flat. It may be real or a drill, but I'll take my sweet time evacuating."
Turns out it was a drill when there was a poster on the door to every flat and a bunch of people standing outside in varying states of clothing.
I once slept through a bomb scare. It happens. There's probably an argument for whether or not increased drills decrease the chance of people taking the real deal seriously until it's too late.
For me, it's more like "the more time the fire alarm goes off, the 'calmer' I am about them"
At my first Halls, the alarm went off so many times that my response was to stand in the hallway of my flat screaming "who the fuck set it off this time!?!"
Now, my response is to drown out the alarm with loud music, grab my keys and stuff, and then make my way down. I don't have far to go down, so it's not that bad.
I reread "Losing the War" and only just realized that the title refers to both the military defeat and losing track of what the war was really like. I am good reeder
Sometimes I realize that comedians are now much, much more effective at doing the news media's job than the actual news media is, and that frightens me.
I've learned to tolerate drama...except on the boat
thanks to consolidation, most of the major news outlets in this country (on the TV side at least) are cogs in monolithic "synergy" machines, so journalism and reportage don't mean shit for them anymore except as a product to be packaged and sold
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Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
My response upon hearing the fire alarm?
"What's the high pitched noise? Oh, it's the fire alarm. Let me just grab my iPod and phone and keys and lock my room before casually strolling downstairs and out my flat. It may be real or a drill, but I'll take my sweet time evacuating."
Turns out it was a drill when there was a poster on the door to every flat and a bunch of people standing outside in varying states of clothing.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
At my first Halls, the alarm went off so many times that my response was to stand in the hallway of my flat screaming "who the fuck set it off this time!?!"
Now, my response is to drown out the alarm with loud music, grab my keys and stuff, and then make my way down. I don't have far to go down, so it's not that bad.
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
Except it's been delayed.
AGAIN.
I have my boots in my suitcase, but getting then out requires effort.
I'll just freeze in my mud stained Converse.
So there's one silver lining.
Everything is effort.
Even typing is effort.
All I've eaten today is a cereal bar.
Admittedly said cereal bar was smothered in caramel and chocolate...
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead