Friday Ephemera (759)
Hot gasses. || Algae and turtles. || Ah, that would explain the cones and tape. || “It had three tentacles and started tapping on my window.” || Not in fact a dog. || Ditto. || Definitely pregnant. || The progressive retail experience, parts 618, 619, 620, and 621. || She advises on mental health and her pronouns are turtle. || Packaging of note. || The future of shopping, 1982. || Leg man. || That can’t be good. || Gummi innards. || Excessive jiggling. || Ice integrity test. || Loving the monster in modern academia. || And speaking of academia, from The Journal of Lesbian Studies. || Hey, baby. Wanna reproduce? || “Heads for all occasions.” || Green Party’s Carla Denyer ponders womanhood. || A Guardian retrospective. || Unforeseen difficulties. || And finally, I’m sure it seemed a good idea at the time.
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Can we declare the entire area insane and appoint a guardian?
Sadly, Lynnwood is near Seattle, so the only appointments you could get would be from The Guardian.
“It had three tentacles and started tapping on my window.”
That must have been difficult to do, tentacles being soft and squishy. But then, I guess if they can build interstellar craft… *shrugs*
For a couple of seconds…
Suicidal empathy.
Morning, all.
Quick, to the escape pods.
Absolutely fuming.
[ Slurps coffee. ]
Best dismantle this timeline and start afresh, maybe back in the Stone Age.
It turns out there’s something to be said for vigorous bullying.
As I’m sure I’ve said before, if your species doesn’t have hands, or something very much like hands, then it seems to me you’re unlikely to have any technology to speak of. Dexterity seems a prerequisite for machinery – say, space vehicles and interstellar travel.
I still prefer this version.
Oh look, a 2012 performance. I wonder how much arthritis and other structural defects prevent him from dancing as before.
To ‘live as a woman’ you have to be a woman.
It would seem to be a necessary precondition – that physical reality thing. Otherwise, one would be living as an approximation of a woman, or an approximation of a stereotype of a woman. Or an approximation of a woman as perceived by a man whose perceptions are, by definition, unreliable. I.e., a cartoon, a caricature.
What’s striking is that Ms Denyer is seemingly unprepared for very basic questions regarding the subject on which she’s chosen to speak, supposedly with authority. And then, when her claims start to look wobbly and unconvincing, she deploys the word discourse. Because that sounds intellectual and people usually defer to that kind of crap.
This is the standard now. This is deemed good enough.
Living as a dude LARPing as a woman.
There’s really no way for me to not live as a woman. Even if I costume myself up to look like a burly dude, and I go work as a lumberjack, I’m still living as a woman LARPing as a burly dude. Addition or subtraction of body parts or hormonal enhancements changes nothing.
Subverting the meme in the best possible way.
Heh. I didn’t see that coming.
Well, indeed.
I should add that if a man wishes to pretend he’s a woman, to act as if he were one, I don’t much care. It’s not something that, in itself, I would spend my evenings fretting about. But the desire, the pretence, should not be imposed on others, whether by force of law or by transparently self-serving emotional bullying. Say, by violating women’s intimate spaces or by compelling girls to participate in some gender-bending farce.
And another condition of any indulgence is stay the hell away from children.
For obvious reasons.
Who summoned the genie this time? Come on. I know it was one of you.
Good morning, all. Did not mean to get up after three hours of sleep but presently all of Knoxville has power EXCEPT for a corner of my neighborhood, including me. And the alarm on my husband’s computer to tell him power has been disrupted kept beeping, and beeping, and beeping.
But worse yet – THE BOX FAN IS NOT RUNNING.
if you’re an American Southerner, you know . . .
As it’s a campus, I’d assumed someone had opened another portal to the underworld.
At least there was still power for the relentless beeping.
Speaking of which, every morning I fire up my laptop and make coffee. Usually, said laptop chimes, once, to alert me to the fact that there is email awaiting my attention. However, some mornings – and for reasons that defy all human knowledge – the damn thing emits a chime for each, individual email message. Needless to say, I receive quite a lot of email.
It’s like being tested by some higher power.
Barking.
Update: POWER HAS BEEN RESTORED.
I quickly made a cup of coffee before the local utility screws up again.
Still hard to believe they’re real.
P.S. Missed your fundraiser so belated ping.
What, THIS FUNDRAISER HERE?
Bless you, sir. May your robotic vacuum cleaner, dubbed Fluffy, perform surprisingly well.
Walking around on them on dry land creates calluses. Or so I’m told.
I grew up in the Midwest without air conditioning, and I know, I know.
I wonder how often these people get eaten by the “pets” that they think they have a strong personal bond with.
The Old Ones?
If you keep in mind that we’re a society, some of whose most highly trained and paid professionals are employed to chop the dicks off of little boys, the rest of this stuff kinda makes sense.
I was thinking of the entire metro area being supervised by “Trumpists” from Tennessee.
Current mood.
“Oh come on, man, you spend too much time on the internet. The city’s not that bad. It’s not like someone gets shot as soon as you step off the plane.“
And then there are the judges bent on destroying civilization.
More feasible than the California high speed rail project.