Desperate People, Fucking Up In A Fucked Up World

Even so, in some places we do have good bus-based transportation systems--such as in university towns that have a vested interest in providing public transport to campuses that are already very tight on parking space. Some cities and towns also do a decent job with their bus systems--but that is highly dependant on local politics, and there is always a risk of wealthy interest groups getting involved and fucking with things. Ironically, some of the best proof we have that buses are a good mass transport option come from private bus systems set up by companies like Apple and Tesla which use buses to transport thousands of their own employees, who would otherwise be stuck in a broken system of enormous commute times--where everyone else is stuck.

Anyway. Everything the original post says is correct--public transport had been criminally sabatoged in the U.S. And it is costing people jobs, livelihoods, and access to basic necessities like hospitals and grocery stores. It's not glamorous, but it is an enormous quality-of-life and class issue, and I'm relieved to see more people talking about it.

Cybersmith, aka the Human Pet Guy, is a Tumblr user from the ancient times (I believe he haunts twitter now instead) who is extremely right wing. He used to love to come into random conversations and give his 'fuck the poor, fascism is the answer, guns and freedom wooo also you're all perverts' takes with an air of smug superiority reminiscent of a thirteen year old who's just taken his first political stance and assumes that the people around him don't agree with him because they're all stupid and don't know as much as he does.

All of this is pretty run of the mill, but Human Pet Guy had this fun quirk where (while still considering the left to be perverts as these people do) he'd he'd segue into random hypothetical scenarios involving his very specific fetishes in open conversation. Like, you know how you can come across the stupidest right wing hot takes ever on the internet and then go to their blog and it's just openly full of hucow or hentai stuff? Cybersmith would say the quiet part loud. He'd come onto a random post about some woman who'd abused her husband and fleeced him out of a lot of money and be like, "would forced bimbofication be moral to inflict on people like this?" and dress it up as a philosophical argument.

He got his nickname, Human Pet Guy, in the post response that launched him into Tumblr notoriety. Some people were discussing breastfeeding in public, and he wanted to make an argument about it being indecent. To do this, he constructed an unnervingly detailed hypothetical scenario where he walks into a restaurant with his wife, children, and human pet on a leash, describing how the human pet was dressed and what modifications had been made to their body. This did not circle around to a useful point about breastfeeding. Nor did he at any point indicate that he understood why this was an irrelevant, inappropriate, and really fucking weird tangent to go on in this post.

Highlights from today include:

They did not make sure Sark was in the room when I woke up

The hot second I had any amount of consciousness returned, I attempted to get out of the bed and was thwarted by the railing they left up and my technician repeatedly telling me to lie down, which I did not because I was CERTAIN that I needed to leave.

I tried to remove my IV myself 15+ times in under 3 minutes and told the technician I could do it. I could not; I had asked the nurse who put it in to put extra tape on it so that I could not. I could also not remove the rest of the things they had me connected to, but only because I couldn’t figure out how, not for lack of trying

I could not remember the technician’s face because my facial blindness is MUCH worse when tired, and I called him Steven several times, and Josh. His name was Andrew.

My gown slipped down my shoulder in my struggles to escape, and the technician attempted to replace it and I told him “you’ve seen a boob, Steven.” His name was still Andrew, and the procedure space was an open outpatient area with other people

I was instructed not to bend over or the anesthetic would ‘rush to my head’ to which I responded in outrage “WELL WHERE THE HELL IS IT NOW?”

I asked everyone present “who the hell are you” and insisted the doctor tell me how to say her first name. They asked me if I remembered Sark when he arrived a minute later, and I stalled out entirely staring at him like a deer in headlights because I could not parse how he got there.

When they brought Sark in, the technician asked him “Does she normally wake up like this” and Sark told him “Depends on when you wake her up.” which is very fair of him because he remembers that I was woken at 4am once by someone honking their horn repeatedly because they wanted to fight my neighbor, and I charged outside in pajamas across a field to go attack their car while shouting about how rude they were and that they could fight me. They did not want to fight me, if you were wondering.

Sark told me they fetched him from the waiting room by saying “maybe you can come calm her down.”

This all happened in approximately 5 minutes, before I had gotten control of myself and could remember Andrew’s name and shape.

Andrew told me goodbye at the door and thanked me for being his most amusing patient today.

Highlights from today include:

They did not make sure Sark was in the room when I woke up

The hot second I had any amount of consciousness returned, I attempted to get out of the bed and was thwarted by the railing they left up and my technician repeatedly telling me to lie down, which I did not because I was CERTAIN that I needed to leave.

I tried to remove my IV myself 15+ times in under 3 minutes and told the technician I could do it. I could not; I had asked the nurse who put it in to put extra tape on it so that I could not. I could also not remove the rest of the things they had me connected to, but only because I couldn’t figure out how, not for lack of trying

I could not remember the technician’s face because my facial blindness is MUCH worse when tired, and I called him Steven several times, and Josh. His name was Andrew.

My gown slipped down my shoulder in my struggles to escape, and the technician attempted to replace it and I told him “you’ve seen a boob, Steven.” His name was still Andrew, and the procedure space was an open outpatient area with other people

I was instructed not to bend over or the anesthetic would ‘rush to my head’ to which I responded in outrage “WELL WHERE THE HELL IS IT NOW?”

I asked everyone present “who the hell are you” and insisted the doctor tell me how to say her first name. They asked me if I remembered Sark when he arrived a minute later, and I stalled out entirely staring at him like a deer in headlights because I could not parse how he got there.

When they brought Sark in, the technician asked him “Does she normally wake up like this” and Sark told him “Depends on when you wake her up.” which is very fair of him because he remembers that I was woken at 4am once by someone honking their horn repeatedly because they wanted to fight my neighbor, and I charged outside in pajamas across a field to go attack their car while shouting about how rude they were and that they could fight me. They did not want to fight me, if you were wondering.

Sark told me they fetched him from the waiting room by saying “maybe you can come calm her down.”

This all happened in approximately 5 minutes, before I had gotten control of myself and could remember Andrew’s name and shape.

Andrew told me goodbye at the door and thanked me for being his most amusing patient today.

After my little beater chillaxed and I was well enough to be wheeled out of recovery I was still too out of it and far too chatty and because of the nature of my surgery my nether regions were kind of in full view and with 3 male nurses wheeling me out for some reason I thought it perfectly alright to share loudly that

Highlights from today include:

They did not make sure Sark was in the room when I woke up

The hot second I had any amount of consciousness returned, I attempted to get out of the bed and was thwarted by the railing they left up and my technician repeatedly telling me to lie down, which I did not because I was CERTAIN that I needed to leave.

I tried to remove my IV myself 15+ times in under 3 minutes and told the technician I could do it. I could not; I had asked the nurse who put it in to put extra tape on it so that I could not. I could also not remove the rest of the things they had me connected to, but only because I couldn’t figure out how, not for lack of trying

I could not remember the technician’s face because my facial blindness is MUCH worse when tired, and I called him Steven several times, and Josh. His name was Andrew.

My gown slipped down my shoulder in my struggles to escape, and the technician attempted to replace it and I told him “you’ve seen a boob, Steven.” His name was still Andrew, and the procedure space was an open outpatient area with other people

I was instructed not to bend over or the anesthetic would ‘rush to my head’ to which I responded in outrage “WELL WHERE THE HELL IS IT NOW?”

I asked everyone present “who the hell are you” and insisted the doctor tell me how to say her first name. They asked me if I remembered Sark when he arrived a minute later, and I stalled out entirely staring at him like a deer in headlights because I could not parse how he got there.

When they brought Sark in, the technician asked him “Does she normally wake up like this” and Sark told him “Depends on when you wake her up.” which is very fair of him because he remembers that I was woken at 4am once by someone honking their horn repeatedly because they wanted to fight my neighbor, and I charged outside in pajamas across a field to go attack their car while shouting about how rude they were and that they could fight me. They did not want to fight me, if you were wondering.

Sark told me they fetched him from the waiting room by saying “maybe you can come calm her down.”

This all happened in approximately 5 minutes, before I had gotten control of myself and could remember Andrew’s name and shape.

Andrew told me goodbye at the door and thanked me for being his most amusing patient today.