Local place started carrying WHOLE frozen durian instead of just pieces!
This was the smallest one at 6lb, and at $5/lb I was kind of trying to avoid a 10lb fruit :D
I fucking LOVE durian!
So, lcars.ucip.org seems to be down and has been for awhile now; not sure what happened but I had a, “OH NO!” moment as I use a couple Cardassian words as usernames elsewhere and that site was my go to to remember how to pronounce said words when someone asked.
The wayback machine had an archive of it, so I copied it and threw it up on a public Google Doc so it’s still accessible for anyone wanting to use it.
I DID NOT CREATE THIS DOCUMENT/PAGE/ANY OF ITS CONTENT.
It’s just really fun, and super useful for people who are interested in Star Trek or who do writing or RP in that fandom and I didn’t want it to end up lost to time.
I took pics for once without feeling like i needed to get high first to deal with a shitty Boomer’s snide comments about the wig and tattoos being a waste of money
Someone requested a doodle of “some of the Dominion’s anti-human propaganda” but tbh this is too real outside of star trek. this is probably plastered over the entire Citadel in Mass Effect
On the one hand I want to show off the horrifically huge, dark purple-red-blue, entire toe encompassing bruise is on my right foot because while playing with us’cut, he rocketed one of his bones directly at my foot when he tripped over it running.
And it slammed at just shy of ludicrous speed directly into the front of my big toe; it hit so hard there’s a shockwave pattern shatter of the nail as part of the huge stupid cow shin did hit the nail.
It doesn’t necessarily hurt unless I put weight on it as the WHOLE TOE is a bruise (bone seems fine I can bend the toe without pain) and now and again it reminds me that it’s unhappy by sending awful nervy feeling shocks up my whole leg and also making me immensely tired as it’s hard to both purposely ignore pain that cannot be touched by painkillers because it’s just a very unfortunately placed bruise, and also have to consciously pay attention to your balance all the time because otherwise you’ll fall.
Anyway, it’ll heal over the next week but it’s annoying right now.
Oh and on the other hand if I post pics there’s always the chance some foot creep will put the pics out there and I’d rather not do that for free anyway.
Rare photos from trans history: Olympic runner and Zdeněk Koubek styles Cinda Glenn’s hair, 1936. Koubek was one of the first trans men to gain international fame after he transitioned in 1935.
this is inspiring weirdly complex emotions in me. like, it’s the fucking 1930s. I can hear the mid-atlantic newsreel voice. the fact that it plays coy with why he knows so much about women’s hairstyles, but like, as a funny surprise, not as shock and horror. the fact that it never deadnames him or uses incorrect pronouns. the fact that he looks like Mickey Rooney. idk it’s just making me feel feelings.
Pat Robertson walks past thousands of souls, smugly and full of pride, and cuts to the front of the line at the velvet rope in outside the entrance to his version of Heaven.
The bouncer looks up from their clipboard, observing Robertson with thousands of eyes in a swirling cascade of light.
“Pat Robertson,” they say. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Pat Robertson silently congratulates himself. He swells with joy. All those people who died from AIDS, natural disasters, even 9/11 … they all deserved it. They were sinners!
The bouncer speaks into their headset. “He’s here.” They listen. “Yep. At the front of the line.”
The bouncer turns most of its gaze back to Pat Robertson. “Just wait here for one moment, please.”
Pat Robertson steps to one side and waits.
After one thousand years, he begins to wonder if there was a miscommunication.
“Excuse me,” he says to the bouncer, “I am Pat –”
“Robertson. Yes. We know. We’re just getting everything in order for you. It will just be one more moment.”
Tens of thousands of victims of gun violence walk past him and enter Heaven. The population of an entire village, lost in a typhoon that was intensified by climate change, is welcomed. And still he waits.
They file past him, all the people he looked down on. All the people he hurt, directly and indirectly, don’t even notice him as they pass. It’s like he isn’t even there.
Another thousand years pass. Pat Robertson realizes he hasn’t had a thing to eat since he died and he is so very hungry.
“Hey!” He shouts at the bouncer. “What’s the problem? Don’t you know who I am?”
The bouncer rolls half a million eyes at once. “We know exactly who you are.”
“Well, alright, then!” Pat Robertson spits out, exasperated, “if you aren’t going to help me, get someone here who will!”
The bouncer speaks into its headset again. “We’re ready.”
A gibbering mass of what is mostly human flesh – or was, once – slithers / rolls / flops into Pat Robertson’s view. It is covered with mouths that bleed and weep and click their teeth together. Enormous open sores swirl and burst and close and reopen and drip pus and viscera across blistering skin. The faint memory of a smell surrounds it, something like very old cigar smoke and very expensive liquor.
Pat Robertson tries to scream. Arm-like stalks extend from the quivering shape. One resembles a hand at the end of an arm, dripping viscera.
In a flash, it grabs Pat Robertson’s hand and shakes it. Something hot and acidic splashes up on his arm, blinds him in one eye. He feels weak. Afraid. Alone. Confused.
Hundreds of mouths try to speak. Dozens of them vomit acrid bile that splashes across his chest. Dozens more silently spit out the lies they’ve been cursed to repeat for eternity to an audience who will never hear them again.
One mouth speaks clearly. So clearly, it’s inside Pat Robertson’s head and everywhere else all at once. “I’m Rush Limbaugh,” it says. “I’m your new roommate. Come with me.”
And that’s when Pat Robertson knows. That’s when it all hits him, all at once. He’s getting everything he deserves.
The line to get into Heaven does not see or hear or notice him, or the Limbeast. They can’t hurt anyone, anymore.
The cancerous mass of hate wraps its arm around his shoulder and just like that Pat Robertson finds himself in a vast parody of a cathedral. It’s built of bones and flesh and lies. The walls writhe, and he sees that they are not bricks and lathe but bodies wrapped in confederate flags and wearing red hats.
The pews are filled to capacity with the souls of people who followed him in life, hated who he told them to hate. Only their hate is now focused on him, hot and unforgiving. Relentless.
Pat Robertson looks for his companion, but it has vanished. It has left him alone to suffer.
A sermon rises in his chest and pushes against his throat. Pat Robertson is compelled to speak, and as he does each word tears through him like broken glass. He spews his hate and his lies, just as he did in life. Only in this place, he doesn’t feel the glee and the satisfaction he always did. No, he feels the pain and the suffering and the agony of every human being who he deliberately hurt. He. Feels. All. Of. It. He tries to stop speaking. Of course, he can not. He can not ever stop.
And Pat Robertson’s eternity begins.
Listen, when I say I love finding comments on people I follow that are like “IF UR XY UR A MAN PERIOD IF UR XX UR A WOMAN PERIOD”
Then make them look at me, listen to how my voice sounds, show them my genetics, but not tell them what I’ve got for genitals and watch them start to melt down when they slowly realist that they can’t tell and legitimately have no idea if I’m lying or not about what I hint at having.
It’s one of my favorite games, I’ve been playing it offline and online since about 1996.
The upside is that at least a few people who come in confident that They Know end up leaving admitting they didn’t know, learned a lot, and will be reconsidering some of their opinions.
My favorite comment on this particular video though, is this:
If you’d rather not sit through the video the spoiler is that my genetics are XY, and I do not “think I’m a female”, but it’s funny af that that’s immediately what this particular guy jumped to. He tagged a right wing christian creator with like 200k followers so that account got blocked pretty fast as I don’t need quite that level of nonsense in my comments.
Hang on, you guys. I’ve got a crazy idea.
This is the most horrible thing I’ve seen all week and at the same time I can’t stop laughing.
