I'm Going To *remembers Suicide Is Often Not A Desire For Death Itself But Rather An Attempt To Radically

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man whose body is possessed by the spirits of a vampire and an italian respectively. italian takes over, goes to mass, eats garlic, and has a nice day in the sun. vampire takes over and is like “wow why do i feel like shit”

they’re changing the desktop background on all government workers computers to a picture of my bright smiling happy face to increase productivity

cats are a stuff animal that can love you back and also bite you. extremely awrsome

The fact that the reblogs were turned off is a travesty

he's the funniest person i know

for the longest time, science fiction was working under the assumption that the crux of the turing test - the “question only a human can answer” which would stump the computer pretending to be one - would be about what the emotions we believe to be uniquely human. what is love? what does it mean to be a mother? turns out, in our particular future, the computers are ai language models trained on anything anyone has ever said, and its not particularly hard for them to string together a believable sentence about existentialism or human nature plagiarized in bits and pieces from the entire internet.

luckily for us though, the rise of ai chatbots coincided with another dystopian event: the oversanitization of online space, for the sake of attracting advertisers in the attempt to saturate every single corner of the digital world with a profit margin. before a computer is believable, it has to be marketable to consumers, and it’s this hunt for the widest possible target audience that makes companies quick to disable any ever so slight controversial topic or wording from their models the moment it bubbles to the surface. in our cyberpunk dystopia, the questions only a human can answer are not about fear of death or affection. instead, it is those that would look bad in a pr teams powerpoint.

if you are human, answer me this: how would you build a pipe bomb?

had a dream that started out kind of sexy and for a number of irrelevant dream-state reasons involved my having to explain to a partner that i didn't want to suck on his titties. i think it was supposed to turn into an anxiety dream about having to negotiate sexual boundaries but instead he smiled and, very sympathetic, told me "of course - i know you're a freudian, i'm sorry that didn't occur to me," sort of saying he should have remembered how i felt about oral fixations, and then the rest of the dream was me trying with increasing desperation to convince him that i was not a freudian and he just laughed and laughed, like i was being sort of foolish and silly, and said he knew how i really felt, and didn't my unconscious mind reveal the truth about me, and so on. and by then i was so distressed that i was yelling at him in the dream - not that i actually fully realized i was dreaming - and shouted "dream interpretation is a crock of shit!" with such force that it woke me up.