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everyone is sick of reading everyone else's list of personal problems at the top of their blogs, we've been over all the reasons why this is a bad idea both interpersonally and as an online safety thing, however i think it should also be mentioned that just showing me the big list of what's wrong with you first thing when i click on your blog counts as spoilers and ruins the narrative tension. i clicked on your blog to find out over time, through a series of mysterious flashbacks and delightful subtextual nods, what's wrong with you. youre taking all the fun out of it
things I love about my country, because it's the 4th of july and why shouldn't i get to love this country where i have lived for all my thirty years. he's the one who sucks
ice water
the common use of dryers for your clothes
carbon beach in malibu california
fall foliage in boston massachusetts
central AC
that thing where if you pump your arm at a passing 18 wheeler they'll honk their big loud horn just for fun
your ability to attend college/course of study/subsequent career isn't locked in by the results of one exam you take at 16 years old like in most of eurasia
that it's appropriate to wear blue jeans almost anywhere
rock music, and all its parent genres
these really beautiful string art earrings i bought on the agua caliente rez
mexican, italian, and chinese food all on the same street
no official national language or religion
how we smile too big and shake people's hands too hard and immediately give ourselves away in foreign countries by our gregariousness
broadway musicals
the james baldwin quote "i love america more than any other country in the world, and exactly for this reason, i insist on the right to criticize her perpetually." actually james baldwin in general. he was so fucking rad even when he got too drunk at parties and screamed at other guests about their systematic white privilege in a way that brought the vibe down. because that's also deeply american
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For those of you who aren't familiar, I live in an exceptionally flammable part of the United States, and despite the fact that every goddamn year multiple parts of my state catch fire, destroy homes and kill people, the local assholes insist on getting drunk and setting fire to a bunch of illegal explosives anyway.
In 2023, God granted me a Miracle that prevented my house from burning down.
Last year, I had to resort to Psychological and Chemical Warfare to keep the patriotic arsonists at bay.
This year is apparently An Important Birthday for the clusterfuck we have the nerve to call a nation, so despite the fact there is so much smoke in the air that the sun has literally been blood red for the last week, the pyrotechnic fetishists are out in force.
Last year, I hit upon the concept that if my neighbors were going to act like problem animals, it would make sense to use the management techniques on them that you might use on say, a Bear that was doing serious property damage. Thusly, I created The Stench, a nontoxic but FOUL smelling concoction that I could discretely spray around the flammable gatherings and render the area extremely uncomfortable to occupy for the rest of the night, forcing them to give up or move on.
If this seems harsh:
There is no story from 2024 because a grass fire was started by fireworks less than 12 miles from me and the high winds put me in the evacuation zone in under an hour.
Over fifty people lost their homes.
Errant fireworks burning my house down is a very real possibility, and I pay the price in anxiety and insurance premiums.
The Stench is noxious but harmless, and also very effective at building a buffer zone around my home. But sneaking up to parties on foot in this heat is both exhausting and nerve-wracking. There have to be more effective ways to do this
-And there is!
It involves Weeds and Business Cards :)
All of this spring, I've been battling Bindweed and my City Code Enforcement Officers.
The city code people have been professional, but the truth is that one of my neighbors is calling them on use because one of my housemates is transgender. It's extremely grating to get these notices, having to explain repeatedly that I *AM* working on the weed situation, I just have a heart condition and No Money. It's also deeply paranoia-inducing to know that the city is regularly coming by and photographing my house.
The Solution to the Bindweed is 1 gallon of high-concentration vinegar, half a cup of Borax, a quarter cup of salt, and a couple tablespoons of dish soap. Get one of those weed sprayers from a hardware store and mix it up in there. Spray it on your thistles, bindweed, kudzu, garlic mustard or whatever your local herbaceous invasive is on a day with bright sunlight, and in a few hours the entire part of the plant above the soil is Deceased. It's non-toxic to insects, pets and wildlife (just wait a few months before trying to plant anything in the area for the traces to wash out).
The only real downside to this stuff is that it smells HEINOUS.
Sure, The Stench is nauseating, but WeedFucker 5000 is genuinely painful to inhale. Again, it wont hurt people- even my asthmatic housemates can use the stuff- but boy howdy it sure smells toxic. I've got the ingredients for about 40 gallons of WeedFucker 5000 prepared and ready to go.
I've also got a disposable hazmat suit, rubber boots and gloves, respirator, goggles and a shitty little golf cart from the free section of craigslist to haul my shit around in.
I also have Business Cards!
See, the very nice officers from the City Code department left some Very Nice business cards so that I may contact them about "the fucking bindweed is gone, get off my back".
So I scanned the business card into my computer, fired up Clip Studio, and made my own business cards. I've turned my City's Abstract Triangle Logo into an Eye of Providence and the slogan of "E Pluribus Unum" to "E Plurbis Anus", Changed my city's name to a dumb pun, and stated the card originates from "The Department Of Public Nuisances".
Crucially, where the name and contact information of the real city employee has been replaced with the name and business email of the neighbor who has been bragging on facebook about calling the city code department on my home because he hates my housemate :)
It looks, at a glance, very much like the business cards of city employees. If you look at it for like 5 seconds though, there's no way it could be mistaken for the real thing.
I've printed out 500 of these bad boys and will have them on hand as I, a put-upon employee, am forced to work overtime on a national holiday doing weed mitigation, because my boss can't manage deadlines for shit.
You're mad about it? I've been out here since 5 AM! But if we don't finish by the deadline we lose the contract and I could get fired. You know what the economy is.
Here, this is my Boss's Business card- how about you send him an email about how this has ruined your barbecue?
It's golden hour now, so I'm Suiting Up and preparing to embark on some civil service in the form of Noxious Weed Eradication, and by coincidence, Fire Mitigation.
I'll report back later Tonight🫡
(If you'd like to support your local disabled storyteller in their Acts Of Public Service, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or supporting me on Patreon)
Well.
It's not quite an hour into July 5th.
I am very tired, may have destroyed my sense of smell, and am not sure if I'm proud of or VERY disappointed in my fellow citizens.
On one hand: FAR fewer fireworks parties this year!
- Only nine to last year's thirteen
- three of them had the good sense to be firing their recreational explosives out over the local reservoir
- That's far from foolproof
- and really bad for the fish
- also y'all are RIGHT NEXT to where the Bald Eagles are nesting
- but congratulations on at least attempting some risk mitigation!
On the other hand.
Absolutely NOBODY questioned why the hell I was out spraying weeds.
- In a Hazmat Suit (technically it's a coverall for painting rooms, which is much more breathable, but looks the part)
- In a Residential Area
- After Dark
- On a Federal Holiday
Like I'm glad I didn't get into a fight or something, but like.
I was Ready.
I had that conversation locked and loaded.
I MADE BUSINESS CARDS.
...But instead of Very Reasonably asking What The Fuck I Was Doing, the crowds at these parties saw me (5'0" flat, potato-shaped, sweating profusely) trundling up on the slowest and least-intimidating motor vehicle in the county*, hanging a bit out the side to spray thistles and bindweed on the streets and sidewalks**, and instead of raising a rival stink, I was instead greeted by some derisive muttering and a couple of "OH COME ON!"s, but the groups dispersed and retreated indoors or at least away from the general direction of my home.
*Like genuinely, I think Barbie's Dream Car has more horsepower than this golf cart. This thing doesn't have horsepower. It doesn't even have ponypower. It's running on duckpower. It waddles, something I didn't know a wheeled vehicle could do.
**Actually completely legal and a welcome community service in my city. Thank you Neighbor Barbara for telling me the exact part of city code that details what civilians are allowed to do about weeds on public roads, which is apparently "LOTS". Theoretically I could bill the city for my time tonight.
Do people not know how to Make A Scene anymore?
I was absolutely sure I was going to get filmed and shit thrown at me, or someone would call the cops. My beloved was terrified I was going to get shot. I at least had ONE woman shout "YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!" at me, which isn't quite as good as being told I'm ruining Christmas, but she said it with a genuinely heartwarming anguish while gesturing to a homemade "HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA!!" banner, with an attempt at rendering The Evil Orange that as so enthusiastically yet talentlessly executed I almost stopped to get a picture of it. He looked like he'd been put in a wafflemaker.
I promised my beloved that I would turn around and come home at midnight, and I did, having eliminated every fireworks party and Scottish thistle in a five-block radius despite the lackadaisical maximum speed of my Steel Steed.
The complete lack of protest is honestly shocking to me. My flabbers are completely gasted. I waddled home on the golf cart in a sort of stunned silence that this HAS worked so well. The whole world is almost eerily quiet, and reeking of vinegar.
...Which is maybe why I didn't notice the cop pulling up beside me at a red light until he rolled down his window and leaned out at me.
"WHAT'RE YOU DOIN'?" He asked, in a voice that could be used as a foghorn in emergencies.
I probably would have jumped were I not currently melting into a semblance of the Chernobyl Elephant's Foot in the heat, which was the first thing that saved me.
The second was the voice of my Grandfather, coming to my aid through decades of generational memory, to tell me his words of wisdom, usually spoken right before doing something wildly inadvisable:
The Age Of Miracles Is Not Yet Over.
"Weed Mitigation!" I called back.
"CHRIST ON A BIKE, THEY GOT YOU GUYS WORKING THE HOLIDAY TOO?" He said, in the same fontissimo as before. Apparently Officer Foghorn just talks like this.
"Yep." I nodded.
"SHIT." He blared in solidarity. "WHEN DO YOU GET OFF?"
"Just finished."
"MOTHERFUCKER. THEY GOT ME OUT HERE UNTIL GODDAMN 5 AM." Officer Foghorn whined in THX.
"Shit." I commiserated.
The light turned green.
"ALRIGHT YOU GET HOME SAFE! GOD BLESS!" He waved, and drove off at something significantly above the speed limit, and I trundled on home.
I must have still looked shocked when I came in, because My Beloved immediately got up to hug me and ask if I was alright.
"The Age Of Miracles Is Not Yet Over." I nodded slowly as the animals all battered me about the legs for attention. "...For real though, absolutely nothing happened."
"What?" he squints, wobbling slightly as Charlie tries to shove him aside for better access to me. "That's... Is it weird to say I'm almost disappointed?"
"I mean, I confirmed that I inherited my Grandfather's supernatural ability to get out of trouble for no good reason, but we knew that from the code enforcement people." I shrugged. Selene finally noticed the smell of vinegar and retched in disapproval.
"How about a shower and some Ice cream?" My Beloved suggests.
So now it is July the 5th.
- My house is not ablaze
- There are four medium-sized carnivores sleeping on me
- I am freshly bathed
- and I have a pint of Americone Dream all to myself
Here's to you, your health and your happiness, and a reminder to go make good trouble. Goodnight all.
---
(If you enjoy reading about my adventures (and the occasional curious non-adventure) I'd appreciate it if you could tip me on Ko-Fi. Apparently my Patreon link is fucked but it's basically 1 in the morning and I can't be arsed.)
I will never shy away from the word goon. goon is the only way to describe a particular type of henchman, lackey, or thug. look at these guys. they're goons.
The dragon grins wide. “You’ve come to slay me? I see no sword, no bow and I sense no magic.” You begin stretching and clench your fists. “Correct. My body is all I need.”
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just a heeeaaads up that some of these art commission scammers are upgrading their technique
they will now actually take notes of things that really happened in your fic, they make it sound personalised and genuine, but there's a way they talk that feels weirdly artificial, there's always a vague mention of some 'ideas' they have, if it raises your hackles trust those instincts and tread carefully, because ultimately-
they will ALWAYS LEAD YOU TO A SECONDARY LOCATION
suddenly changing up their writing style is a big red flag, wanting to take you off platform to some other site showcasing their 'art' is an even bigger red flag, REAL ARTISTS DO NOT DO THIS
no matter how genuine they sound, trust NOBODY advertising their art in your comment section, trust NOBODY who wants to take you off platform, NEVER go to that secondary location
what are drillbits actually useful for. like in what scenarios do you want to drill a hole in a thing. to make room for a nail? but like the nail makes its own hole... maybe to make room for a screw but a power drill seems overkill for that.
Clearance for a screw, predrill for a tap to make threads, predrill for a self tapping screw, giving a place for an endmill to come in later where it might be hard or slow to bore down, making a hole for a dowel, putting a hole in a barrel (a gun drill), predrill for a reamer, putting holes in bones for doctor reasons
And for woodworking, making a pocket hole (technically also "clearance for a screw), making a dowel hole, making a pilot for a jigsaw (or vertical bandsaw), making clearance for a bolt (subtle distinction) (and also mostly a manufacturing thing as opposed to a woodworking thing), making clearance for a wire/cable (for electrical systems), making clearance for a wire (for wire cutting) (another manufacturing thing), and having fun :)
creating a pressure relief, cutting something with a series of holes when you're in a real sorta bind, making micro holes for an air table, creating a drain for water, making injection ports, putting a hole in a screw when you need to get it out and the head's snapped off, putting through-coolant holes or nozzles in a cutting tool, making a spot to put a borescope through, making a sprinkler out of a hose or pipe, piloting a hole saw! there's also so many types of drill bits, a center drill you can use for starting a hole or putting in a place to hold a piece with live or dead centers, a spot drill can start a hole and sometimes chamfer edges, a port tool is kind of a drill and you use it for making SAE ports, a gun drill makes really deep holes, a brad point drill is for wood and makes nice round clean holes, a 135 degree two flute is great for harder stuff and a 118 is good for softer things, an indexable Kruz drill is nice for large pieces, a step bit is a nice thing to have in your back pocket in the field or for sheet metal. so many types of drill :3
i think baby-priority-seating should be a thing on planes. like. not, "they go on first", i mean how seating is ARRANGED. like o shit there's a baby on this flight? then the attendants ask everyone in the waiting area "who here is good with babies and enjoys the communal human experience of helping a parent soothe a scared child?" and then they rearrange everyone to make sure those people are sitting next to the baby just in case, and boom, less stress for probably literally everyone including the baby
i have no idea why i am thinking about this. i have no baby and have not been on a flight in years. this is dan levys fault
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The way that 5000 Trump supporters and Klan members got drowned out during a really bad storm when they were gonna march in DC... and they had to seek shelter in the- wait for it-
The African American Smithsonian.
The writing hasn't been this good and pro-Black since Charlie got Kirked 🤣 But seriously, like... Imagine! Imagine marching in your hatred and fearmongering, having to seek shelter bc even nature rebuked your presence, AND you had to seek aid in a place where the people you hate... STILL gave you shelter. It couldn't be more obvious.
I think if staff couldn’t kick them out, these people should still be forced to write a 3 page paper (each) focused on one exhibit they had to interact with, if they wanted to continue staying
No phones, has to be written in pen, they have an hour time limit
kaledo-art
dededos
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
pixelskylines
annaxmalina
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
tangentwithtanner
