taxiDEERmy

And you gotta fix ‘em

Reddit post in which a person asks for Relationship Advice for a situation in which they thought their spouse was cheating, and searched on their phone just to realize that said spouse has been using dating sites to mass-message people ‘Show me your Weenis’ and now they have a whole folder on their phone dedicated to pictures of various people’s elbows.

I just spent an hour annoying my SO by spontaneously playing little songs on them off and on

We all already know

I’m Of Two Minds Conducting Hot and Cold A Tin Man with a Heart of Gold Quicksilver Tongue with a Mercurial Soul Leaden with Questions and a Broken Mould Alchemical Expression with a Radioactive Toll Twin Alloys Galvanized and then Together Rolled Yet I’m Nothing More than Gunmetal Honed

Half of the smut I am exposed to doesn’t even understand the mechanics in the slightest and the other half equates the entire process to a set of philosophical breakthroughs complete with terminology that rips breakneck between elevated diction and increasingly bizarre new pseudonyms for penises and there is no in-between.

I just read someone’s fanfic this morning that had quite a bit of hand-touching during normal conversation (which is odd to me as I don’t touch others hardly at all) and it occurred to me to think about the actions that each individual writer focuses on more as I continue to consume written work in the future.

Me: Spends a while before bed one night designing a way to ‘walk uphill to school both ways’ without ever ambulating downhill (including elevators or walking/climbing/etc. down) between the school and house.

!? >.> ~ <.< ?!

Over the Years I Have Hunted Those Old Thickets Down On the White River Beneath the Oak Boughs Gumbo and Loam Cak’d Boot Treads Between Rows of Beans Twenty-Two Rais’d On Smelling of Deer-Piss n’ Does Ratt’lin Antler Sheds Bucks Meeting Their Fate Dropping Down into the Corn When My Shot Sounds Off Years-Worth; I’ve Seen ‘Em Does and Bucks and Fawns Treading ‘Cross to the River Down to the Water Up to the Persimmon Trees Righ’ Near Old Graves Done seen ‘em Walk Crook’d Done seen ‘em Lock-Up and Drown Done seen ‘em Stand Wither’d Deer are Violence Well Enough Without Spook-Tales Told ‘Round the Camp Fire Over All These Years I Ain’t Never Seen No Not-Deer …But the White-Tail Have

We like to play with language as if it were some elaborate toy; However, we sense that language can be as dangerous as any gun. For as much as it is common to spit thoughtless argumentation into the soundscape like an Assault Rifle; Or to spray drivel upon an empty field with the rapidly-overheating Gatling Gun of rage- As we tremble with the weight of words that need to be said, rolling it over like a Pistol in the hand- For as well as the Manipulative spin their Revolvers, playing Russian roulette with tonality; And as expertly as the Learned place a 200-Yard Rifle Shot of Truth after taking Aim and still manage to miss- A true Marksman only needs a Shotgun and a Single Slug.

Animals must think us very Queer. We all behold the most untamable of all the Forces of Nature- And here we Humans are like ‘Hold My Beer!’