I have a permanent dislike of these games because I had a roommate that played them all of the time. All day I'd hear 'CLANG CLANG WHOOSH ROAR' With very little variation, except every ten or fifteen minutes when he would die and scream 'FUCK!'

I'm sure they are fun, or at least addictive because it's such a relief to actually win after being frustrated for so long,

Like fun edging, I guess. Not for me.

Hey now, some of us are sickly and emaciated!

Not to mention injury/death when the equipment catastrophically fails.

Just a bunch of phoneys.

The rational solution here is to drain off the nasty green water, replace it with peroxide, then mount a toilet puck every five feet around the rim.

The water will be nice and blue like the water features at his favorite mini golf course, and it'll smell just like his office.

I miss living in a punk house with five other bastards. There was always something going on and when I was done being social I could just hole up in my room.

Finally have my own place after sharing various living situations for 20 years and it's glorious to come home to my tiny apartment and only have to deal with my cat.

Downside is, I no longer have friends or go out. My roommates/SOs always made friends and plans for me, so I never really developed those skills, and now I'm too old to crash DIY venues and not be That Weird Old Guy that comes to all of the shows.

Now I know why EVERY battery powered toy I was ever given never got fresh batteries. I would memorize the sound effects so that I could make believe they were still functional once they died.

I suppose I did the same thing with my father.

I lived in WI back in 03 when they lowered the bac from .1 to .08. people were pissed, but I don't recall them drinking any less, just getting arrested slightly more.

Carry on old Obi-Wan- You'll be a force ghost when your done-

I like that the AI gave the soccer Mom both a soccer ball as well as a soccer purse. Bravo.

My 401k has gotten up into the 5 digit range a couple times, but emergencies have required me to to drain it. Retirement is a dream I rarely harbor.

I'm working until the day I die. My mother fancies herself retired and rots away in a house she imagines she owns, but it has been property of the bank since before I was born in the 80s. A mortgage that was essentially renting with extra steps.

I'm just whining now, so I'll stop.

The Epstein Memorial Gilded Rapetorium.

A new life awaits you in the off world colonies!

Gas giants aren't planets: they're just clouds, man.

It's a trap. Like in the famous documentary, 'The Santa Clause', if you examine the crash site the drivers body will disappear and YOU will become the Door Dasher, and be required to fulfill all of their commitments.

All the knobs and cranks are busy in politics.

#heyoooo

Not irradiated! It's been treated with Shell Atomic Boost!

Just look for the glowing pump.

The famous 'invisible D' of Connecticut, my favorite SCP.

It is kind of silly, in retrospect.

The skeletons that follow me around IRL don't carry oversized buckler shields.

They just quote former failed relationships and keep just out of arms reach.

You simply need a BIGGER crane to build the Big Crane.