what a yuriful world...

Hey kids, you need to start worrying a little less about getting “#mogged” and a little more about getting “#smogged”. This is an Air Quality Index public service announcement.

let's develop a perfect plan

1. get cozy in bed

2. nathing wrong with me

[ID: A lunchbox containing a handful of loose lettuce and a half-empty bottle of Pepsi.]

that's arugula

[ID: A lunchbox containing a handful of loose lettuce and a half-empty bottle of arugula]

please dont vape your blueberry ice flavor around my kid. we are raising him on marlboro reds exclusively.

16 years of aeiou

Great time to start pricing this out by the way, fire season starts… on the summer solstice this year, that’s fun. Signs point to it being a doozy.

As someone that has had to go through this while being very poor, I can say this is VERY effective. While this is a fantastic build, you can even do just a single filter against the fan, or a fan on one side of a cardboard box and a filter on the opposite side.

I'm gonna be honest for a second. I cant believe people still care about Taylor swift.

All gays will go to hellsite

What if in hellsite but not gay

NO!

Please put on your N95s. The same ones used for covid will filter particulate pollution. I lived in a city with yearly winter pollution levels like this. If you can pay for it, you might as well get an indoor air filter to sleep in.

I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture. All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line? The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy? Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess. I want the fat left it. I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence. Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."