The woman in the meme used in that profile picture, seen weeping at Hillary Clinton's loss in 2016, deserves a personal apology from everyone who used her as the poster child for hysterical liberals crying over nothing. Her freakout was absolutely justified. It was as bad as she feared.

I personally think they just taste okay, but that's a matter of a pinyon. (🥁badum, tss)

there is precious little that can actually distract me once i really get into an art groove. but uh. yeah that’ll do it.

Make art. Demonstrate. Ridicule and berate them. Make them ashamed and afraid to be who they are. Strength is the only thing bullies respect, and often they cower at the first punch thrown against them. Defend yourselves. Show them what strength is.

Trump's own spirit is more chain than ghost by now.

What a field day for the heat.

the Army: "our armored vehicles are usually push-button started because in an active warzone you want to minimize things that can go wrong"

Curtis Yarvin: "what if shooting an M16 worked like trading Bitcoin."

Fun fact: Apple Intelligence was trained off of a dataset exclusively made up of conversations with Tommy Wiseau.

The illustrations in the Dark Tower so perfectly captured the very particular enigmatic tone of those books. Here are a couple more by Michael Whelan and Ned Dameron respectively. So damn good.

Whatever luxury beachfront properties Trump and his cronies end up putting in Gaza will be forever plagued by bombings and shootings. Mark my words.

Looks like some little twerps need some swirlies.

Everything's terrible.

Especially healthcare services, for some fuckin reason.

Nice! I like the cord-wrapped grip. I'm still using my old VB. It's on the heavier side, but I'm so tuned into this thing at this point that fencing with anything else feels off.

Looks like it's seen some love! That a Regenyei?

It was very freeing when I realized that none of these losers believe a goddamn word they're saying, and I don't need to waste time arguing with them.

This was inspired by "Blood Meridian" by Cormac McCarthy, which I recently read. I'm trying to come up with a better name for this practice than "Mccarthyisms," which does not bring to mind quite the right thing.

An empty store in a strip mall is "a hollow and somber edifice, its paint chipped and peeling as if it had been afflicted with a pox that summoned sores to ravage its flesh. Like the fading rememberings of a dream, weathered imprints of letters promised beds, baths, and what may lie beyond."