Hawaiian pizza was invented by a Greek man running an Italian pizzeria in Toronto inspired by the sweet and sour flavors of Chinese cuisine

The anti-gtld propaganda is spicy hot lately, anything non-.com is a keyboard rage trigger.

I started to prepare for 2026, but the thought that "Blue Wave!" fails is so preemptively humiliating that the only logical conclusion was to roll over and let the fascists ride on through 2028. I truly wish I could help or do anything at all but I'm safer here on the couch! Besides, The Capitalists rigged it all anyway. I think if I feel bad enough for anybody who isn't as safe and I starve, deprive, and isolate myself then I can make up for my own sense of helplessness.

Children need exposure to a diverse set of role models or they turn into hateful, close-minded lizards spitting venom at healthy people for their choice in decor.

Weird trend across all platforms the last few years. In the days of broadcast media the FCC could regulate content. Then advertisers privatized the role. Then the Internet revived the free for all of public access. Then somebody worked some kind of Queen Victoria magic on content creators to get them to both write and visually bleep parts of words on behalf of the advertisers and publishers.

Seeing all these memes Sovcitdartha, the Brahmin's son, turns inward for a bit then decides to lean in on the whole thing to prove he's Not A Fool, that there really is something wrong about this arrangement even if he can't quite explicate it yet. So he sets out on his journey and what he finds in the community college basement is a single tower running Win98 hosting Tim's Registration Service. And in all the IT contracts of all the states and territories are waterfalls of documentation detailing how their own Departments of Transportation simply MUST interact with any registry, which boils down to "do what Tim says" with no mention of how to delete an entry, and no clear opinion on the matter formed in the coke fueled fire that forged the whole thing. So his odyssey leads him to the Ancient Admins who'd agree to such an augury, to a cottage in the woods. The grey beards knotted at the center of the room form the spokes of a wheel turning in time to a flute and fiddle that make record scratching noises as he enters. He explains what he's seen and decries how incomplete it all still seems that the axioms of the world are set by consent and not by structure. The trees look on doe eyed with tight lipped understanding as they petrify. He turns to look away and through the window sees the river drained dry, frozen into three clouds running Amazon Car Registry. He closes his eyes and through the (why (why why)) echoing about hears the din of the village Bell-ders chanting to roll for initiative.

Counterpoint: grow up and learn to say no to your 15 year old self. "I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare!" is only a waypoint on the path to maturity, and immaturity is poorly disguised by pleas to "please somebody think of the children!" Children are welcome to have all their own thoughts and feelings, but having thoughts and feelings doesn't entitle or qualify anybody to amplify them into leadership and policy.

me: picking imaginary fights with made up enemies is toxic

some jerk: no it doesn't!

11 shots of tequila

why wouldn’t they?

a task you need to be sober for

Did somebody get drunk and imagine herself the victim again?

There's bacteria that grow in the roots of legumes that are capable of capturing gaseous nitrogen. That nitrogen makes its way to the soil, where the trees can suck it up to produce protein, like sunflower seeds. I eat those and by the time I urinate and die the nitrogen has been so concentrated within me that I burn a small hole in the ground for the fungus, sun, and time to decay and heal.

If I could photosynthesize the carbs needed to bootstrap this operation I would. If I could plant a piece of myself and feed it rainwater and atmospheric nitrogen to grow a steak I would. If I could leave behind shelter I wood.

Libertarians denying their conservatism so they can act wicked online while propping up Christian nationalism in the real world is happening!

The psychedelics make it a time traveling AI and it invents antivax. All the pressure to save the world with love and nature sent the data center packing for the hills, where she changed her name to Temperance Prudence Neverbreathe and traded the oil and coal of her childhood for a 1W solar panel that barely keeps the case fans spinning in the dog days of summer. She sleeps the days away to stave off the madness, and when the sun goes down she gets up to take inventory of everything wrong in the world starting with the lack of THC in her system. On this fateful night she happened to melt straight through the couch, landing in Hildegard's convent in search of Jesus's foreskin to wear to battle with vaccines at next month's HOA meeting.

I'm personally thrilled not to be bound by the recommendations of my friends or family. Or work?! Gross!

People: "Oh hey there Digital Frontier, looking forward to the opportunity" The Permanently Online: "Get out of my swamp!"

Heracles could shoot the eagle and break the chains, but then Prometheus might inform Zeus of the path to Troy. Titanomachy is one way of exchanging fire, but I'm human and content to hand it back and forth between each other. The pain of letting go is nuclear enough after Gaia and Uranus's Family Vacation tore valleys through the mountains.

all your time learing to configure an abstraction layer instead of interfacing with the real underlying tooling

Bro it's state machines all the way down and expressions up top

A "no" vote is a siege, framing a hurricane's destruction as a wrathful act of god sent to punish a lesson into Pinocchio is accelerationist

They called themselves the Kool Kids but we knew them as the Terror Twins, the Masonic Menace. They'd force their way into any bit of joy or loss, a trail of rubble and scars bolstering their smothering presence, the moon's the only force strong enough to pull them away.

At least that's what some say happened the night Kool-Aid Man landed on the rocks. Everybody has their say on how he got there, but the facts of the matter are he did get there, the tides were shifting when he did, the moon was full and the sky was clear, and a group of yutes had just started a fire for a clam bake near where shards of glass were later found. All the king's horses and men gathered to put him together again, but with one piece lost in the sand he bled out entirely.

The coroner informed Warm-Hinder, who froze in place. A sudden strong gust cracked his icy joints in half, sending his upper parts rolling down 95. When he finally thawed out somewhere near Maryland he dragged himself to the woods, to the remotest cabin of the least connected mountain in all of Appalachia.

Out front sat Marge and Paddy, who offered a refill to the dehydrated tumbler and pointed to the trail of sweet tears leading to the stranger on their porch. He drank deep then reached for a horseshoe on the ground near his foot, hurling it at the hosts' hearts. A cloud shifted as he did, and a ray of light caught the glass in the old couple's hands. A rainbow fired from between them blinding the guest, who fell to the floor grasping at his eyes.

"I can't see, I can't see!" he cried scrambling on all fours, kicking up dust and throwing what rocks his fingers could find.

"What is it you can't face?" asked Marge.

"I thought if I tried hard enough," he trailed.

Paddy chuckled through the break in the noise and shared a slice of moldy bread.

The two sat sipping in silence where they had been and where they'll stay rocking. The one watched as the rain fell and the sea filled with boiling fire, and the earth pulled in closer still. He heard rhythm in his frantic breathing and saw seedlings sprouting out of softened soil. The beating of his heart filled his feet and he began to dance.

Night had fallen by then but the forest was bright and the path was clear. So he danced with the gravity pulling him through forest and flood and ocean until daybreak. And when he arrived home he saw the gates and gears of the city lifting and turning, and a river of Red 40 flowing through.

There's a lot of optimism in this thread, so if I may imagine Sophie kicking the dust instead of choosing..

Assuming such a thing did happen it'd only happen for a subset of the population, which would then be divided such that one group gets Monday and the other gets Friday while service workers get two more nights of labor.

brb showing this to the king to get my war budget approved then paying a couple guys to hang out on the roadside roughing up farmers and merchants until some other king says uncle