"..."-Red

im nonbinary in a way that doesnt really matter

Looking at the closed captions of the interview I did today, I'm noticing that Zoom sometimes (not always, but it fucking happened) censors the words "Queer" and "Lesbian", which is extremely fucked up.

oop, also just saw "Gay" get censored. Really not good that this is a thing.

Literally on the phone with the IT service desk trying to work out how to get them to get me through to someone with admin privileges who can turn off Zoom's "profanity" filter (fuck off, these are not profane words). It's bluntly fucking ridiculous that I have to do this, this is a university, hard of hearing people can see "naughty" words (and these aren't even fucking naughty words) without shrivelling up and dying, none of us are fucking cherubs who must remain "pure" and "uncorrupted". This whole thing is so fucking idiotic, I study gender and sexuality, the people I interview are going to use these fucking words, I'm going to use these fucking words. Absolutely fucking absurd. It's fucking American puritanism being forced upon the rest of us by some shitty tech corporation. Nuke Silicon Valley.

there's this dog that's just bad at it. at being a dog. something must be wrong with it. the dog has a family, they love this dog, they were very excited to get the dog, and they chose this dog out of a mess of dogs in the shelter. it was cute, still is in it's own way. an adorable thing, really, a tiny picture-perfect puppy and the family was all smiles taking the dog home but it was just bad at being a dog. training was a non-issue, the dog only did their business when brought outside and the family would squat to pick up it's shit with a plastic bag, the dog never hopped on furniture it wasn't allowed to, the dog never barked, indoors or outdoors, and it never ate the family's food, never even tried to. the family thought this was wonderful behavior but there was other things about being a dog that this dog just didn't do. it didn't play, at all. never chased after a ball, never bit down on a rope. every walk with the dog felt more like dragging it around, the dog never wanting to move on its own. the dog didn't wag its tail at being told how good they were, at being petted, at given treats. it barely registered treats as anything different than its regular kibble. every meal, dehydrated meat chunks or a sneaked whirl of whip cream from one of the children, was eaten as a duty but never a fervor. it sat next to whoever brought them to the dog park and even other dogs knew this dog wasn't good at being a dog. though this dog never did have any issues with sleep, with diet, his waste always looked fine, it didn't seem anything was wrong. the family doesn't know exactly when but at some point the dog was brought to a vet, who surmised that the dog must be in some kind of pain, gave him meds, and the family didn't have to squeeze pills in cheese or anything, the dog just ate them fine. nothing changed but they never stopped giving him the meds. sometimes it'd be a different medication, a different vet with a different theory on what's wrong. some thought it was bad joints, another wanted xrays to see if it was a cancer, yet another tested for illnesses. no one ever guessed right, though. it just shouldn't have been a dog. the dog wasn't fit for being a dog. years of this go on. the family doesn't even think of getting another dog, they already have the one. the dog was fine enough, they figured. it's not in pain, not really, the dog's fine as is. a fixture of the family like a piece of furniture. it's almost kind of endearing, entertaining even, to see how long the dog just keeps going as it is. they keep the dog, celebrate each birthday with all of them there, the dog behaving as if it's any other day. four years old, seven years old, twelve years old, sixteen years old, twenty, twenty-five... then the dog bites someone. someone in the family. no real reason other than it's a dog and dogs bite. one hand bleeds as the other hand strikes the dog, a hammer of a fist making it whine for the first time. it sank fangs just once and years of dutiful love toward it collapse into a gravity of resentment. all this nerve to never act like a dog and now it suddenly wants to fucking bite someone? after all they did for the dog? all those years tolerating it? they end the dog's life without much ceremony in the backyard. they're all righteous, brimming with adrenaline, all smiles. this is right. the dog shouldn't have bit someone.

blowjob? more like nojob! #unemployed

blowjob? more like job blows! #employed

blowjob? okay! #SelfSuckingLittleFreak

Oh.

talking about everyday things the way anti-sex weirdos talk about "porn addiction". oh you like to "take a nice walk outside"? don't you know that floods your brain with the addictive chemical dopamine, which is literally stronger than heroin? and you try to do it every day? that's. not. normal. i can't believe people try to justify and excuse this and act like Taking-A-Nice-Walk-Addiction isn't real

Perhaps this is an obnoxious take on my part, but video games should, above all things, prioritize the ability of being paused. At any point. Regardless of whether it's during a cutscene, a special animation, or a time-based puzzle. You never know when you're gonna get a phone call, or someone will need you in another room, or you get a sudden urge to go to the bathroom, or you hear your cat licking plastic, or whatever. Other entertainment mediums like books, movies, and music can be paused whenever you want. Why do some games not give you the same luxury??

if you use potholders how will you ever build up the calluses necessary to pick up scalding hot metal without burning yourself so severely? it’s like you’re not even trying to get better

I mean, my mother uses potholders, but she’s in her 70s. You’re just… too YOUNG to be resorting to potholders at your age.

If you start using potholders, your inability to hold hot metal will only get worse.

As a professional cook I was, and still am, able to pick most stuff up out of an oven without a pot holder. I might get blisters and maybe it will hurt, but usually it won’t

not what I thought they was talkin about

iT’s fUnY beCAusE mEn aRE DumB

The artist was a man but women still got blamed for the “misandrist joke” by a redpiller calling himself a “big dick americhad“

the world gets a lot easier when you learn to be wrong without getting pissed or doubling down. saying, ‘you’re right, that makes sense, I was misinformed, thanks for telling me’ instead of going to war over something your ego’s latched onto will save you time, energy, and the embarrassment of sounding like a whiny little bitch