Tickling your fancy with a halibut

I’ve given the worst 12 years of my life to this site

what they don’t tell you about using a website consistently for over a decade is that you’ll have multiple internet friends you’re pretty sure have died but you’ll never know because they never gave their full name. their blog is like a monument and mortuary, a snapshot into their thoughts and a time where they could still think them. either that or they’re fine and they’re no longer into Gorillaz or whatever.

can we bring back the term "fair-weather friend" bc I feel like if fair-weather friends got called that more this whole argument about whether or not you should be there for your friends when it's inconvenient/at what point of personal inconvenience it's ok to bail on your friends would kinda fall apart bc like. we literally have a word for "friend who's only there when you don't need something from them" because the baseline expectation is that a friend should be there even when it sucks. like we used to make fun of people for bailing on their friends.

Join a union. Respect your coworker. Solidarity.

"Goddamnit, how the hell can you guys lug around armor and weapons this heavy like nothing ?" "...This is a powered armor, and its platings alone weigh 2 tons. How the hell can you even move without turning this shit on ?"

This prompt reminds me of a WH40k joke I've seen a couple times, here. A young space wolf neophyte is being graded before progressing further in his initiations. His trainer hands him a chainsword, points to the entry to the combat Sim. "This one's easy. Kill a hundred cultists in five minutes" In the young warrior goes. Five minutes later he comes out, dripping with sweat. The trainer looks and sees he only managed 85. "You should be able to get one hundred easy! Apply yourself lad. Drink water, rest a moment and we will run you again" The neophyte drinks, rests, and sets himself again through the door, determination on his face. Five minutes later he comes out, sweaty and defeated. The trainer sees his score: 93. "Something must be wrong with your technique. Hand me the sword, follow and learn" The neophyte hands over the chainsword, shame on his face. The trainer flicks the activator, and revs the blade. Instantly the neophyte jumps back, defensive posture screaming "By the emperor, what is that terrible sound?!"