Jordan Brock
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jordan.brock.social
Jordan Brock
@jordan.brock.social
210 followers 180 following 96 posts
Ruby. Coffee. Cricket. Bikes. Shiba Inu

Get a warrant.
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jordan.brock.social
Fewer immigrants means a smaller tax base to fund our retirements. Keep letting them in, I say. The more the better. We have plenty of room, if we’re smart about it.
November 3, 2025 at 10:21 AM
jordan.brock.social
Each one a successively darker shade of grey.
October 21, 2025 at 7:08 AM
jordan.brock.social
Nap season runs from Jan 1 to Dec 31
October 20, 2025 at 10:11 PM
jordan.brock.social
Particularly when you have to assign arbitrary points to a task
October 16, 2025 at 5:00 AM
jordan.brock.social
We’ve just been handed the Asana and Teams combo. Retirement is too far away unfortunately.
October 15, 2025 at 9:55 PM
jordan.brock.social
🦛 🐥 🐑 🐑
October 9, 2025 at 4:25 AM
jordan.brock.social
There was one in Doctor Who in the 70’s
A shot from Doctor Who in 1974, with Sarah-Jane Smith, The Doctor and Alpha Centauri, a green creature with an eyeball for their head
September 27, 2025 at 10:22 PM
jordan.brock.social
Gonna need a bigger cudgel
September 20, 2025 at 10:18 PM
jordan.brock.social
Ruby Federated
RubyFed
FedaRuby

???

Etc.
September 20, 2025 at 1:14 PM
jordan.brock.social
What’s the summer version of a Snow-gan? Straight bogan?
September 4, 2025 at 10:53 AM
Reposted by Jordan Brock
colinelves.bsky.social
With alt:
Smajo Beso • Follow 3d • © I started school in Newcastle in Year 5 without knowing a word of English. I was nine years old and had arrived as a refugee from Bosnia just a couple of months earlier. I was one of those strangers our politicians often speak about. I missed my grandparents and friends. I was having awful nightmares, and I would wake up screaming every single night. I hated going to school. I would sit in my chair, look out of the window, and spend my day daydreaming about ways to run back to Bosnia. I didn't want to be here. After a couple of weeks at school, my teacher, Miss Webster, and my classmates did something special to help me settle, something that made me feel less of a stranger. That was the first day I went home with a smile on my face. I have shared this story before, but as tomorrow is start of the new school year, I thought I would share it again. ** Miss Webster was amazing, but I couldn't understand a word she was saying. She had this ritual where, at the end of each day, we would all sit on the floor around her, she would play the guitar, and we would all sing a song together. I couldn't understand what they were singing, but I could see she would sing one part of the song, then she would say someone's name or point to them. The next part of the song would be sung with that person's name in it, and they would get to go home first. My classmates loved this, but I hated it. It annoyed me because I couldn't understand what they were singing, but if I am honest, l hated it mainly because of how happy they all were. I definitely wasn't happy. I cried myself to sleep nearly every night. I eventually started having separate English lessons, which I enjoyed more because it took me out of the classroom. It was always daunting coming to school because I felt everyone was looking at me or speaking about me. For months, my dad would stand with me outside the school gates in the morning until it was time to go in. One day I came back into the classroom from my English lesson. We sat down, and everyone was extra-excited, looking at me more than usual for some reason. Of course, I thought it was because I was a refugee, because I couldn't speak English, or because they couldn't pronounce my name. I was bracing myself for another afternoon of my classmates encouraging me to sing. This was probably the closest I came to running out. So we were all sitting on the floor around Miss Webster. She was holding her guitar, ready to sing. I remember the sun shining through the tall, narrow windows as I slowly drifted into a daydream of being back in Bosnia. She began playing the guitar, my classmates joined in, but this time, everything was different. I froze. I understood what they were signing. Not because I had miraculously learned English in one afternoon, but because they were singing in Bosnian for me. I looked around in shock, and they were all smiling at me, and for a moment I thought I was daydreaming. While I was having separate English lessons, Miss Webster had taught our entire class to sing this song for me in Bosnian. They sang it terribly, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. I skipped home that day with a huge smile on my face. For the first time, I looked forward to going back to school the next day. I have often imagined Miss Webster and my classmates rehearsing, struggling with the strange Bosnian words and laughing at themselves. For me, that effort was the ultimate recognition, an act of peace that felt like the opposite of everything I had known during the war. It was special. I do not know if they realised it then, but that moment helped to give me back my dignity, my belonging, and, for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was just a refugee or an outsider. I was home.
September 3, 2025 at 8:59 PM
jordan.brock.social
As a collection of gas and dust it’s probably still smarter than a real emu
August 28, 2025 at 10:12 PM
jordan.brock.social
That’s a fucking magnificent idea. I’m going to do the same!
August 23, 2025 at 1:54 AM