That’s fucking awesome! That’s also how you end up running with a sect of druids.

The hogs will never betray you. If they do, you were never running with the hogs to begin with.

Love this. I think not having driving was a huge contributor to my introvertedness/social anxiety. My friends were always super accommodating, but night after night I would end up stuck in places I didn’t want to be, entirely at the mercy of someone else. Was my ride drinking? Guess I’m sleeping on the floor of some weird house I don’t want to be at. My social battery would drain by 10pm and I would have to bounce around asking various friends if I couple catch a ride with them when they left, and often didn’t get out of there until 3am. It wasn’t a situation I enjoyed being in. Sometimes it was easier to be the walking wizard.

One night I was extremely drunk on Southern Comfort and mad/butt-hurt over something my love interest had said or done. Decided to walk all the way home at 2am. Unfortunately that was a 14 mi/22 km walk through a rural area, deeply intoxicated with no water. It was beautiful hearing the roosters crow over sleepy little farms at sunrise, but by the time I finally made it home I collapsed onto my bed sobbing in misery. I slept for eleven hours and spent the next day or so recovering. It’s not always noble to be the walking wizard.

My mom had a horse just like that (maybe not the eyes) and we would often ride her around our woods/property. There was a part of our swamp that was just muck, water and leaves beneath dead, spindly trees, and any time we would get close to that I would flip the fuck out because of this scene. No goliath turtles, though.

Wow, that does provoke strong imagery. That’s a great looking dog in a great looking race. I hope he wins.

The best burnt-out sign I have come across was in my city back in 2019. It was a huge, red SENTINEL STORAGE sign, but the TO was no longer illuminated, so it left “SENTINELS RAGE” burning ominously in the night.

Here is the absolute shit-tier photo I managed to snap while driving.

I have been there. I have seen him myself. If you too find yourself standing before him, do not fear. Look down. There are so, so, so many hairballs. It is disgusting.

Milo / Mimo has a deep and peaceful soul that has been with my family for nearly eight years now. He is always the most serene presence in the house, and he always shows deep affection toward me, my wife, and my little girl. One of his preferred methods is to rest his forehead against mine with his eyes closed, purring for extended periods of time.

That man enjoys gentle mornings beside the goose garden.

Brought to you with love by Duncan Hills coffee!

Next one will be the Tesla Model 80085…

His juvenile enthusiasm for the letter X is so ten-year-old boy with sunglasses.

My daughter (5) uses WASD proficiently, so I have hope.

They did this in Calgary and then everyone’s teeth went tits up.

The voters for sure. I’ve engaged with so many obnoxious, irrational, hyper-aggressive people lately who are so high on their own farts and delusion that they’re beyond getting through to. One guy even offered to “fly me out today” to fight him over the subject. Right-wing propoganda has them angry at their own shadow.

I know advocating for violence is frowned upon, but maybe fucking these people up is the only way to get through to them. Seems to be the only language they speak by the end of any argument.

One of my staff does this every day of his life. His roommate works with us as well and confirms it. Dude will game until 10am, then crash for a couple of hours and be into work at 1pm. Rinse and repeat. Five days per week. Rolls out of bed with ten minutes to spare, throws on his uniform and starts walking. I don’t know how he survives the lifestyle, but I guess it’s working for him.

My grandma had me like this when I was ten. We used to sit at her kitchen table and look them up as they flew in. I knew that thing front to back. Used to sit over there all the time looking through the pictures. She died some years ago, but I still have that old green copy of Audubon Guide to Eastern Birds. Made sure to ask for it when she died. It no longer reeks like cigarettes, but it’s all browned and brittle.

My daughter (5) loves birds now too, and we used to consult my grandma’s guide together. However, we now live in Western Canada and I was worried about the longevity of such a fragile relic, so I purchased the Western edition. Nearly identical, but red. Now my daughter runs to grab that whenever we see a new bird at the feeder.

I feel like if there’s anyone out there who would use this new information to make right by the Blobfish, it’s him.

I just blurt it out when my wife asks. It’s always the most mundane, unrelated shit. I’ll be thinking about what drove Mike Myer’s choice to make Shrek Scottish. That said, she doesn’t stress over what I’m thinking about. She’s not insecure. She just wonders what’s going on in the box sometimes. I’ll have that look. My wife is great.

That would have been the only footage of a human getting their head blown apart that I would have watched every day over breakfast.