Cat the Ripper proved a warm and comforting security snuggle all the live long night for me. He curled up comfortably within the crook of my knees and snoozed there companionably all night long.
When his claws remain sheathed he really is a very sweet kittie.
In the late-teens (the 1890s), some of the Artists gathered in Salons and engaged in word-games.
Dalì and Jarre and Seurat would gather at a patrons estates, and dally with them. They invented a word game, where they would write a question on a piece of paper, and toss it into a bowl.
They would also write an answer to a question (not necessarily related to the previous question), and toss that into another bowl.
After a few drinks, one was tasked with pulling a slip from the Question bowl, and pulling another slip from the Answer bowl. And then reading them aloud.
Laughter and toasts and the snapping of fingers followed.
As the game progressed, it was encouraged for one to walk from the question to the answer.
"What is pudding made from?"
"Giraffe."
Well, in East Africa, in the mid 1800s, because of the big game hunting that had gone on by all of the Kipling Safarists and Game Hunters, the herbivores had flourished. There became too many giraffe, and so the lesser hunters went after the remaining trophies. A giraffe neck rug, as a hall-runner, was an exotic entrance to ones cocktail lounge and smoking room (there are further tales about the manners in which a giraffe neck was made into a rug, but that is a different story).
Subsequently, there were many giraffe bones, strewn about the veldt. Intrepid chefs recognized the delicious marrow available in those long bones. Boiled down, that gelatinous mass, along with some sugar cane, and some milk, and the newly discovered spice "vanilla" could be boiled together, chilled, and served as a dessert. Cocoa could be incorporated to elevate it into the delicious confection that we all love as "pudding."
I suppose that also explains how the world's supply of naugas disappeared when they became the ingredients for tacos after their little hides were removed for all of those chairs and sofas.
I am glad the little creatures still exist in expensive furniture emporia, but have you seen any in the wild lately? I have not and I fear that they are going extinct. Perhaps their genetic information could be extracted from someone's fine davenport.
For a wonderful list of other creatures like the nauga that have gone extinct, you might check out Vachel Lindsay's poem "Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan." (It's also an interesting take on the election of 1896.)
I've played games like that in grad school with a bunch of other intelligent people. One we liked was "Dictionary". You need one of the massive old dictionary books. The person with the dictionary would pick an obscure word, and everyone would write down a definition for it. The word-picker would write down the *correct* definition. Then the word-picker would read all the definitions, and everyone had to guess the correct one. You won the round if your fake definition got picked the most.
Yesterday I gathered together all of the household trash and recycling to be taken out to their respective bins for pick up by the trash and recycling collectors this morning. A quick glance into the kitchen reveals that while the recycling DID go out accordingly, although the empty boxes of additional adult beverage products were left pell mell on the kitchen floor and NOT placed appropriately into the recycling bin, the household trash did NOT.
There is a large, odiferous bag of trash now sitting and festering underneath our sink. I have tied up the trash, sprayed disinfectant, cleaned out the trash can, and after I calm down just a tad I intend to drag that shit down the obligatory 13 steps, out into the garage and into the garbage can.
Immediately thereafter I am inclined to rudely awaken paul and tell the [redacted] that I want a divorce.
What that man NEEDS is to put down the damned beer bottle and to pay attention.
I am just damned sick and tired of this. It is an ongoing issue that I have endured entirely too damned much of. My patience has worn dangerously thin.
Girl. Ask me about the stinking compost that he’s supposed to take out every day, or the pile of socks next to the bed, or the dirty underwear on the bathroom counter. And although he does carry out the trash and recycling, he will not scoop the litter box and almost always skips at least one inside trash can, like the one in the laundry room full of dryer lint. How can I blame him? Not sure he knows where the laundry room even is.
Is candy-assed chickensh*t traitor Hawley on this Senate panel? If so, he will most likely ignore the aid question and scream about "transgender terrorists in our bathrooms" or something else as equally stupid, bigoted and irrelevant.
I just turned it on for a few minutes. Saw Marco talking about something but I forget what. It was on in the background and when I didn’t see who was talking I didn’t know who was who. A woman went on and on about the southern border. Could have been Marsha although I don’t remember a particular southern accent. This was in the afternoon and I didn’t see any of the morning stuff.
It's really time for Biden to personally go public and call out Repunks on their plans for the financial destruction f the country, and the fact that they are cowering to Putin when they condition aid to Ukraine on aid to Israel. I wish that the Dems had surrogates that the media would cover, but we don't. The media only covers Biden when he speaks, and then only when he stumbles over a word.
"Okay, we approved your aid package for Israel, and as an added bonus, we've promised the Israelis that we are going to send you in personally, Mr. Speaker, to check for IEDs and any other dangers in Gaza. Here's your pointy stick and a lucky rabbit's foot. Safe travels, Mike. Now get in the duffel bag."
Any system that outcompetes other systems rather than reaching environmental equilibrium is self-annihilatory. The most competitive system would incorporate elements that are self-destructive in the absence of competition, destroying itself once competition is eliminated or incorporated, as it can then only attempt to outcompete itself through unsustainable growth. Consequently, unless a competative system can be engineered to evolve/transition into an equilibrium system, cyclical collapse is inevitable.
Mike Johnson is being exactly the complete GOP clownhole we all thought he was.
The creme de la creme of the MAGA clownholes has risen to the top. Not even Kevin or Matty or Gym could top this guy.
He has all the terrible views of the worst republicans, just less shouty than Groomer or Gym.
"Civility."
Biktarvy sounds like a Turkish brand of guitar amplifier.
I thought Blavatsky bathed in the blood of children.
Or, was that Bovary?
Isn't one of them associated with theosophy or something. Theosophy makes my hair ache.
Correct. Madame Blavatsky, was a Russian mystic who co-founded the Theosophical Society.
Cat-person, is there anything that doesn't make your hair ache?
Weed, Guinness, ... I need to think on this.
Things seem to be going exactly the way Putin wants it.
Strategically placed Nazi groupies have a tendency to accomplish such derelict ends.
Weed would not help today even if I could use it. Fucking asthma.
Weed would help a lot of narrow-minded people.
Mushrooms would, too.
Can we non-consensually micro-dose assholes?
Probably not. But it's fun to think about.
Gummies?
No gummies. I tried them several times and noticed no effect.
[offers warm, supportive embrace]
(((thanks)))
FUCK. I feel like the world is losing it's fucking mind for sure today. The Crew is up here at the workstation with their comforting presence.
https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fmedia_upload%2Fcomment%2F17ddf952-d482-41b7-b363-b9253a630c30%2F9a94214e-43df-4a89-942d-d92b0083c40d.jpeg
Cat the Ripper proved a warm and comforting security snuggle all the live long night for me. He curled up comfortably within the crook of my knees and snoozed there companionably all night long.
When his claws remain sheathed he really is a very sweet kittie.
Did you sleep well? All night?
Hope so. YAY!
Nail-clippers.
Just the tips.
That cat will learn how to not use the weapons.
I love that you had to install a cat shield for your keyboard.
Ya gotta do whut ya gotta do.
Still not On-Topic.
In the late-teens (the 1890s), some of the Artists gathered in Salons and engaged in word-games.
Dalì and Jarre and Seurat would gather at a patrons estates, and dally with them. They invented a word game, where they would write a question on a piece of paper, and toss it into a bowl.
They would also write an answer to a question (not necessarily related to the previous question), and toss that into another bowl.
After a few drinks, one was tasked with pulling a slip from the Question bowl, and pulling another slip from the Answer bowl. And then reading them aloud.
Laughter and toasts and the snapping of fingers followed.
As the game progressed, it was encouraged for one to walk from the question to the answer.
"What is pudding made from?"
"Giraffe."
Well, in East Africa, in the mid 1800s, because of the big game hunting that had gone on by all of the Kipling Safarists and Game Hunters, the herbivores had flourished. There became too many giraffe, and so the lesser hunters went after the remaining trophies. A giraffe neck rug, as a hall-runner, was an exotic entrance to ones cocktail lounge and smoking room (there are further tales about the manners in which a giraffe neck was made into a rug, but that is a different story).
Subsequently, there were many giraffe bones, strewn about the veldt. Intrepid chefs recognized the delicious marrow available in those long bones. Boiled down, that gelatinous mass, along with some sugar cane, and some milk, and the newly discovered spice "vanilla" could be boiled together, chilled, and served as a dessert. Cocoa could be incorporated to elevate it into the delicious confection that we all love as "pudding."
I thank you for your indulgence.
I suppose that also explains how the world's supply of naugas disappeared when they became the ingredients for tacos after their little hides were removed for all of those chairs and sofas.
The hide of the wild naugabeast can still be found on furniture and clothing in the finest of Department Stores.
I am glad the little creatures still exist in expensive furniture emporia, but have you seen any in the wild lately? I have not and I fear that they are going extinct. Perhaps their genetic information could be extracted from someone's fine davenport.
For a wonderful list of other creatures like the nauga that have gone extinct, you might check out Vachel Lindsay's poem "Bryan, Bryan, Bryan, Bryan." (It's also an interesting take on the election of 1896.)
Upfist for "davenport".
This is simply delightfully fascinating trivia that I absolutely LIVE for.
An abundance of profoundly sincere gratitude, El Bastardo!
Skepti, that tale was a complete fabrication.
Except for the beginning, with the bowls of answers and questions.
I made up the whole thing about giraffe pudding.
Well, there does exist the potential for such an exchange to occur, particularly among the assembled connoisseurs of snark.
I still just enjoyed the HELL out of that creative contribution to the abstract.
It can be played with 2, but it works best with 3 or more.
For 2 players (you and someone else), you each write down an Answer on your card. Then, on another card, you each write down a Question.
When you both are ready, you each pass the Question card.
Now, you know the answer, but the Question is a chaotic unknown.
Take a moment to compose yourself.
Now, read the Question aloud, and craft your story to the Answer.
Sometimes it is obvious: "What are the monoliths?" "Electricity" And the Truth of it just is.
Most of the time, you need to make up a faux history, on the spot.
For 3 or more players, you pass the Answer card clockwise, and you pass the Question card widdershins. So, then, you're working naked.
Still the same rules.
This game is called Surréalisme.
I've played games like that in grad school with a bunch of other intelligent people. One we liked was "Dictionary". You need one of the massive old dictionary books. The person with the dictionary would pick an obscure word, and everyone would write down a definition for it. The word-picker would write down the *correct* definition. Then the word-picker would read all the definitions, and everyone had to guess the correct one. You won the round if your fake definition got picked the most.
So... Balderdash then.
I thank you, friend.
I have engaged in such a game.
Answers and Questions are written down, and received randomly. And one is tasked with making up an ad hoc tale, relating them.
I am very, VERY angry at the moment.
Yesterday I gathered together all of the household trash and recycling to be taken out to their respective bins for pick up by the trash and recycling collectors this morning. A quick glance into the kitchen reveals that while the recycling DID go out accordingly, although the empty boxes of additional adult beverage products were left pell mell on the kitchen floor and NOT placed appropriately into the recycling bin, the household trash did NOT.
There is a large, odiferous bag of trash now sitting and festering underneath our sink. I have tied up the trash, sprayed disinfectant, cleaned out the trash can, and after I calm down just a tad I intend to drag that shit down the obligatory 13 steps, out into the garage and into the garbage can.
Immediately thereafter I am inclined to rudely awaken paul and tell the [redacted] that I want a divorce.
He needs his Miranda Rights and competent representation first!
What that man NEEDS is to put down the damned beer bottle and to pay attention.
I am just damned sick and tired of this. It is an ongoing issue that I have endured entirely too damned much of. My patience has worn dangerously thin.
Girl. Ask me about the stinking compost that he’s supposed to take out every day, or the pile of socks next to the bed, or the dirty underwear on the bathroom counter. And although he does carry out the trash and recycling, he will not scoop the litter box and almost always skips at least one inside trash can, like the one in the laundry room full of dryer lint. How can I blame him? Not sure he knows where the laundry room even is.
Well, I would take out your recycling for you...to preserve peace.
Is candy-assed chickensh*t traitor Hawley on this Senate panel? If so, he will most likely ignore the aid question and scream about "transgender terrorists in our bathrooms" or something else as equally stupid, bigoted and irrelevant.
I just turned it on for a few minutes. Saw Marco talking about something but I forget what. It was on in the background and when I didn’t see who was talking I didn’t know who was who. A woman went on and on about the southern border. Could have been Marsha although I don’t remember a particular southern accent. This was in the afternoon and I didn’t see any of the morning stuff.
Nope, he's not on this panel.
Rand Paul: Covertly investigating Martin Luther King = forcing social media sites to remove false COVID info.
General Code Pink freakout at hearing now
Here's your Jill Stein voters...HRC was never gonna get these guys....
Peace protester?
Code Pink - they think Russia does no wrong
Oh, gross
Codepick Tankies just protested the hearing...
Code Pink I mean...at it again
Same damned difference.
I'm so old, I remember when Republicans outdid one another to prove how tough on Russia they were.
It's really time for Biden to personally go public and call out Repunks on their plans for the financial destruction f the country, and the fact that they are cowering to Putin when they condition aid to Ukraine on aid to Israel. I wish that the Dems had surrogates that the media would cover, but we don't. The media only covers Biden when he speaks, and then only when he stumbles over a word.
Good lucky, fellas. You are dealing with a second-in-line insurrectionist Christofascist who has already stated he wants to cut Ukraine aid.
"Okay, we approved your aid package for Israel, and as an added bonus, we've promised the Israelis that we are going to send you in personally, Mr. Speaker, to check for IEDs and any other dangers in Gaza. Here's your pointy stick and a lucky rabbit's foot. Safe travels, Mike. Now get in the duffel bag."
That gavel banger is a fucking Nazi.
The intelligence community needs to arrange proper handling for both him and Tuberville.
Putinstooge.
Just a thought I had:
Any system that outcompetes other systems rather than reaching environmental equilibrium is self-annihilatory. The most competitive system would incorporate elements that are self-destructive in the absence of competition, destroying itself once competition is eliminated or incorporated, as it can then only attempt to outcompete itself through unsustainable growth. Consequently, unless a competative system can be engineered to evolve/transition into an equilibrium system, cyclical collapse is inevitable.
AI response: "So?"...
Iz Dis Game Theory?
Monopoly is the final phase of unchecked capitalism.
Slavery is the final phase of unchecked capitalism
Long as I get a little metal battleship, I’m fine.
And in the end, the value of the real money is the same as that fake money in the game.
and a good way to terrorize your eight year old...
The Putin caucus, to which MAGA Mike belongs, are just performing for their master.
I'd rather we had a Putin carcass.