We haven’t started them yet at the one I work at but if I’m remembering the assembly diagram correctly it’s pretty much like a Big Mac made on the smaller bun and with slightly larger meat patties than the cheeseburgers get. (1/6 pound, as opposed to the standard 1/10 and 1/4 pound patties.)

It’s a dead raccoon.

Now I’m imagining him showing up on Cops.

Can we just terraform Mars and/or Venus already?

I’ll admit that, in these complicated times, I sometimes look back fondly on my days as a warboy, roaming the wasteland of our collapsed society...things were simpler then, you know?

Apparently one of my coworkers was recently asked what it was like “living through Y2K” by another (15-year-old) employee.

Everything is bad and nothing is good.

CHAINSAW PENIS

So how long do we think it’ll be before this apocalyptic dumbfuck gets us into a completely avoidable conflict entirely due to his own towering incompetence.

I’m imagining something like a salty aquarium and wondering who would actually want their house to smell like that.

There’s only one Christmas song I can tolerate:

I’m reading the Rogue One tie-in novel Catalyst because I’m a huge fucking nerd.

New computers are always a weird experience for me. Like I love getting one, but there’s always that period where it feels like I’m wearing someone else’s underwear until I get everything I want installed on it and everything just so.

With this administration apparently poised to dismantle every environmental protection it can get its hands on, I can’t help feeling like we’re all witnessing the beginnings of an extinction-level event.

...Assuming we as a society still have the means to mass-print books by then.

Yeah, one big reason I don’t want to ever breed (aside from just not wanting kids in my life, ever) is that I don’t want any of my hypothetical descendants stuck trying to survive in the hellish Wind Up Girl future we’re apparently working so hard to achieve.