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monogamous people are constantly like "i can't believe this, how could she violate my trust like this???" and the aforementioned "trust" is like. "i trust that you will devote your body and mind solely to me and construct your sociosexual life solely based off my explicit permission without making any unapproved connections or forming any unapproved desires regardless of the absence of material impact on me because i conceptualize you largely as a convenience object and it scares me when you exhibit signs of autonomy or discrete personhood ❤️"

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Link to original

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Anybody else have a growing fear of updating their tech cuz everything seems to be getting worse and worse

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the mane axe is a hairbrush. the auto axe is a toothbrush. so is the toxic axe.

during the events of chapter 4, gerson drags susie out of her slump, he encourages her storytelling as a fellow author and teaches her how to practice her craft. because he saw a story burn in her eyes, brighter and blacker than everything around them.

so gerson gave her the justice axe.

he gave her a paintbrush.

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i can't fucking think about susie's battle against not!gerson for too long i swear i start howling like a wounded animal.

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If you’re a trans girl if you are a girl if you want to be a girl you have to live. You can be a girl. You just have to stay alive, please.

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>First, we’ve discovered that about a quarter of all the internet connection in or out of the house were ad related. In a few hours, that’s about 10,000 out of 40,000 processed.

>We also discovered that every link on Twitter was blocked. This was solved by whitelisting the https://t.co domain.

>Once out browsing the Web, everything is loading pretty much instantly. It turns out most of that Page Loading malarkey we’ve been accustomed to is related to sites running auctions to sell Ad space to show you before the page loads. All gone now.

>We then found that the Samsung TV (which I really like) is very fond of yapping all about itself to Samsung HQ. All stopped now. No sign of any breakages in its function, so I’m happy enough with that.

>The primary source of distress came from the habitual Lemmings player in the house, who found they could no longer watch ads to build up their in-app gold. A workaround is being considered for this.

>The next ambition is to advance the Ad blocking so that it seamlessly removed YouTube Ads. This is the subject of ongoing research, and tinkering continues. All in all, a very successful experiment.

>Certainly this exceeds my equivalent childhood project of disassembling and assembling our rotary dial telephone. A project whose only utility was finding out how to make the phone ring when nobody was calling.

>Update: All4 on the telly appears not to have any ads any more. Goodbye Arnold Clarke!

>Lemmings problem now solved.

>Can confirm, after small tests, that RTÉ Player ads are now gone and the player on the phone is now just delivering swift, ad free streams at first click.

>Some queries along the lines of “Are you not stealing the internet?” Firstly, this is my network, so I may set it up as I please (or, you know, my son can do it and I can give him a stupid thumbs up in response). But there is a wider question, based on the ads=internet model.

>I’m afraid I passed the You Wouldn’t Download A Car point back when I first installed ad-blocking plug-ins on a browser. But consider my chatty TV. Individual consumer choice is not the method of addressing pervasive commercial surveillance.

>Should I feel morally obliged not to mute the TV when the ads come on? No, this is a standing tension- a clash of interests. But I think my interest in my family not being under intrusive or covert surveillance at home is superior to the ad company’s wish to profile them.

>Aside: 24 hours of Pi Hole stats suggests that Samsung TVs are very chatty. 14,170 chats a day.

>YouTube blocking seems difficult, as the ads usually come from the same domain as the videos. Haven’t tried it, but all of the content can also be delivered from a no-cookies version of the YouTube domain, which doesn’t have the ads. I have asked my son to poke at that idea.

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Light answers a tough question

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“Babe are going to bed? How did you get under there???”

“Mreh!” >:(

“Oh, I’m sorry! G’night!”

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Interesting. Quick question tho.

The fact that people in Nicaragua are currently performing backbreaking farming labor for so little pay that being offered a job that pays the equivalent of less than $3.50 USD an hour would constitute an opportunity for upward mobility is...

A. a completely naturally occurring and politically neutral state of affairs, just the way the world happens to be for no reason in particular.

B. a condition that exists as the direct result of decades of interventionism and lobbying by American fruit corporations to deliberately repress wages and labor laws throughout central american countries to keep production costs low for the plantations they own in these countries.

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I love messy femmes. Sleazy, gas station femmes. Chronically underdressed femmes who sleep far too much or too little, who answer my texts at odd hours. Femmes with ripped jeans and scuffed shoes. Irresponsible, impulsive femmes with long, unstyled hair. The messiness so hot to me I can’t explain it

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somewhere out there right now is a kid with curly hair being raised by people who have wavy hair at best and those people are giving them 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner and telling them to dry brush it. and that kid is gonna spend all of middle school and high school hating their hair and moping over the flat iron. they're being told right now that if they don't dry-brush their curl pattern into oblivion every morning it means they're unkempt and gross even though they naturally have the kind of ringlets that a thousand bridezillas would commit horrible murders for every june. it's happening right now it's an absolute epidemic and a tragedy every time

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wtf is “strapwarming” i’m calling it cockwarming regardless of whether it’s silicone or not. “strapwarming” you are weak and will not survive the winter

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All fanart of Spamton and Tenna is like when anime artists illustrate a beautiful and coy yet voluptuous lady and then there's just like some kind of terrible hideous pervert creature hanging out in the corner

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i think one of the most important things you learn about making connections with others is that a significant portion of the time people just do not know theyre doing what theyre doing

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playing undertale at last after somehow unintentionally avoiding all major spoilers for my entire online life (UT came out two years before I first used social media) and oh my god. this game is crazycool. lifechanging. I kind of want that gay robot

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I think I may never be sad ever again. There is a statue entitled "Farewell to Orpheus" on my college campus. It's been there since 1968, created by a Prof. Frederic Littman that use to work at the university. It sits in the middle of a fountain, and the fountain is often full of litter. I have taken it upon myself to clean the litter out when I see it (the skimmers only come by once a week at max). But because of my style of dress, this means that bystanders see a twenty-something on their hands and knees at the edge of the fountain, sleeves rolled up, trying not to splash dirty water on their slacks while their briefcase and suit coat sit nearby. This is fine, usually. But today was Saturday Market, which means the twenty or so people in the area suddenly became hundreds. So, obviously, somebody stopped to ask what I was doing. "This," I gestured at the statue, "is Eurydice. She was the wife of Orpheus, the greatest storyteller in Greece. And this litter is disrespectful." Then, on a whim, I squinted up at them. "Do you know the story of Orpheus and Eurydice?" "No," they replied, shifting slightly to sit.

"Would you like to?"

"Sure!"

So I told them. I told them the story as I know it- and I've had a bit of practice. Orpheus, child of a wishing star, favorite of the messenger god, who had a hard-working, wonderful wife, Eurydice; his harp that could lull beasts to passivity, coax song from nymphs, and move mountains before him; and the men who, while he dreamed and composed, came to steal Eurydice away. I told of how she ran, and the water splashed up on my clothes. But I didn't care. I told of how the adder in the field bit her heel, and she died. I told of the Underworld- how Orpheus charmed the riverman, pacified Cerberus with a lullaby, and melted the hearts of the wise judges. I laughed as I remarked how lucky he was that it was winter- for Persephone was moved by his song where Hades was not. She convinced Hades to let Orpheus prove he was worthy of taking Eurydice. I tugged my coat back on, and said how Orpheus had to play and sing all the way out of the Underworld, without ever looking back to see if his beloved wife followed. And I told how, when he stopped for breath, he thought he heard her stumble and fall, and turned to help her up- but it was too late. I told the story four times after that, to four different groups, each larger than the last. And I must have cast a glance at the statue, something that said "I'm sorry, I miss you--" because when I finished my second to last retelling, a young boy piped up, perhaps seven or eight, and asked me a question that has made my day, and potentially my life: "Are you Orpheus?" I told the tale of the grieving bard so well, so convincingly, that in the eyes of a child I was telling not a story, but a memory. And while I laughed in the moment, with everyone else, I wept with gratitude and joy when I came home. This is more than I deserve, and I think I may never be sad again.

Here is the aforementioned statue, by the way.