There’s a bunch of right-wing people posting memes about “”DOGE”” making the government more efficient by removing funding from “”dumb bug researchers”” and I am now realizing how little the average person knows about entomology and its importance
Excuse me while I get sad .
… and now, the weather.
me clicking on a video from the silliest man in the world: teehee what wacky hijinks await me
world renown block clown mumbo Fucking jumbo: you ever think about how old technology seems to live forever in the suspended state of whatever the newest advancements were at the time. how most technology immediately and fundamentally tells you when it was important and when it was left in the dust. it’s suspended in its era forever, and in that it is perfect.
stagnation is a form of death but nostalgia is cruel immortality. still i find myself locked in pursuit of it until i finally stumble across the undeath of the mechanical. as my hard earned improvement truly begins to pay dividends, surrounded by my opus of change, i will freeze myself in eternal utopia. the only way to never die is to preemptively kill whoever you might become. i will not have a grave, i will not be ashes and dust. i will be a perfect, extant machine.
me: Ok. i dont think this will plague me at all actually. like video.
adhd chain of tasks took me from a simple 10:00 pm shower before bed into an hour and a half of scrubbing my bathroom floor to ceiling, dripping wet and stark naked aside from a pair of freshly washed crocs
and this all happened bc the only way i can make myself clean the tub is to shower with dish soap and a scrubby sponge in the tub so i can do it while wet
What level of rotted is it when you think you're the most basic man alive for loving the chemical burn scene forgetting that normal people would NOT find that sexual in the slightest nevermind romantic
Oh, and by the way, that Supreme Court ruling is where that Harry Potter money goes.
David Lynch, Cannes Film Festival (2002)
Oh no yak tranquilizers for me i just wanted to be alone in this berlin warehouse with you
Oh damn the Catholics have joined in on the war against AI "art".
Hmmmm hm. Okay. Worldbuilding/story idea.
One million years after humanity disappears, octopi and ravens have independently developed sapience. And one day an octopus child and an elder raven meet at the edge of the ocean.
Where is your mother and father? asks the raven. I have no mother or father, says the octopus, blushing pale. All octopi are children. Once we’re grown, we will mate and we will die. It is the first and the last thing our mothers tell us.
But that’s horrible, says the raven. It’s not all bad, says the octopus. We play, we hunt, we make games for ourselves in the deep. Yes, but who remembers your songs? the raven says. Who passes down your stories?
What is a story? the octopus asks.
And the raven thinks about this question. And finally it says: A story is how you remember things in the past. It is how you know where you come from, and what happened before you were born. A story can be a warning, or it can be advice, or it can be a silly joke told to make you feel good. Someone remembers the story and tells it to the next generation, who remember the story and tells it to the generation after them.
And the octopus thinks about this answer. And finally it says: Can you tell me a story?
And the raven tells the octopus a story. And it’s a good story. And the next day the octopus returns and asks for another. The next day it brings its octopus friends, and the raven brings its raven friends, and many stories are shared on the edge of the ocean.
Months later, the octopus returns to the raven. I am grown, it says. I am returning to the sea to find a mate and lay my brood. I will not be coming back. I’m sorry.
I will miss your company, says the raven.
I have one thing to ask you, says the octopus. In time my children will come to the edge of the ocean. I would like you to tell them a story I have made. And when they have stories of their own, I would like your children to remember them and pass them down to my children’s children.
Of course, says the raven. What is your story about?
And the octopus thinks, and says: It is about an octopus child and an elder raven who meet at the edge of the ocean.
And this story has been passed down to this day.
call me sunny! he/they, transmasc enby :-)22yo aspiring artist and poetbad at keeping an online presence bc of the wretched adhd addled brain my skull houses
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