“Kangaroos aren’t that dangerous! Who do you know who’s been murdered by a kangaroo?”
“Who do you know who’s met a kangaroo and survived to tell the tale?”
Tags:
#I didn’t actually laugh aloud but it still amused me enough to reblog #kangaroo #death tw #(for the record I *have* met a kangaroo) #(but it was pretty young and perhaps had not yet grown into its full killing potential) #(plus kangaroos found at petting zoos have presumably been selected for disinclination towards murder) #((this post not to be taken as an endorsement of owning pet kangaroos))
Okay so I just got off the phone with them. I talked to a trans girl named Aurora & she was super helpful! She gave me a few doctors to talk to & encouraged me to seek therapy instead of just rushing to get my pills. She literally found a trans friendly therapist in my town & I would definitely recommend giving them a call!
Check out their website for monetary help here! People can apply for ID assistance in the form of microgrants, which I previously had no idea about! Also trans folks can train to be a hotline operator, how awesome is that??
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#gender #the more you know #not as discoursey as it first appears
Shitpost-level take: the true divide in this debate is between autistic people and people with ADHD.
If you can’t deal with lots of noise, touch, and people in general, obviously you aren’t going to like public transit.
If you can’t deal with sitting still and putting continuous boring low-level effort into keeping control of something, you’re not going to enjoy driving.
The other obvious divide is “people with carsickness” vs. not. I can’t read or look at my phone as a passenger in a car without feeling nauseous, but I can do those things in a train just fine.
(And yes, I’m an ADHD person who strongly prefers public transit.)
I’m autistic and anxious and buses are better than driving because I’m not responsible for avoiding collisions? I can usually reliably get a seat, often one with an empty neighbor and basically always with a courteous one. Usually the loudest thing by far is the machinery and nothing smells bad. I notice my stops. I avoid the one bus that’s always late. I was more annoyed by buses when I had a 90 minute commute, but now part is on a campus shuttle and so it’s more like 60 minutes with a nice indoor break in the middle.
Then again I’m probably atypically social in public for an autistic, probably due to not hanging out with people enough or something. I reliably end up thanking bus drivers and talking to cashiers about groceries and talking to miscellaneous people about weather.
Basically exactly this. My problem with driving is the exact opposite of “continuous boring low-level effort”.
I’m driving. The guy behind me is tailgating. I move to the rightmost lane. The guy being me is tailgating. Fuck. Time to panic.
I’m driving. I’m waiting to turn left onto a main road. The main road doesn’t have stoplights or stop signs. There’s lots of traffic. The traffic never stops. The guy behind me honks. Did I do something wrong, or is he just an asshole? Fuck. Time to panic.
I’m driving. It’s a red light, and I’m in the right turn lane. I can’t see oncoming traffic from this angle. I could pull forward into the pedestrian lane, but that’s illegal. I wait. The guy behind me honks. I pull forward into the pedestrian lane. A pedestrian yells at me. Fuck. Time to panic.
A lot of US traffic intersections are designed so that you can’t actually navigate them unless you break the law. Those are the ones self-driving cars have the most trouble with, unsurprisingly. And they’re also the ones I have the most trouble with.
It’s a many-sided optimization problem, and if I make a mistake, I die. There are so many situations in driving where zero options are perfectly safe, and I just have to choose one. It’s not even the risk of death. I’m perfectly fine risking my life in a taxi. I just hate being the one who’s responsible for not dying.
Agreed.
There are other reasons to want less car-centric societies, but my primary one is “it’s unreasonably cruel for a society to make ‘must be able to spend ~one hour a day, almost every day, making frequent fast-paced life-and-death decisions’ a requirement of full membership”.
(The actual controlling-the-car part, the continuous boring low-level aspects, I have no problem with (indeed, I have even been known to *enjoy* driving on a sufficiently deserted road). Operating the car is easy. Making *very, very* sure that you and another agent *never* attempt to occupy the same space at the same time is hard.)
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#reasons I haven’t renewed the learner’s permit that expired over a year ago #reply via reblog #death tw #is the blue I see the same as the blue you see
#I don’t actually speak MtG #but apparently I’m a sucker for ”colorless green ideas sleep furiously” jokes #(this is the third one I’ve reblogged over the years) #language #Magic the Gathering
one of my favorite tropes of all time is when the author tries to replace curse words with a more ‘family friendly’ alternative or invent new words for worldbuilding purposes but they use existing words that make the whole thing unintentionally hilarious out of context
#language #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #(”maybe I would have listened…to you…if you didn’t keep saying ‘shock’…all the time…”)
Not seriously. I can’t bring myself to write serious emotional poetry because it always sounds overwrought and pretentious to me; I’m also pretty private about my serious emotions. I do occasionally compose things for fun. Here’s a poem I wrote a long time ago which I don’t think is online anywhere anymore, called “The Battle Of The Nouns And Verbs”:
The Nouns and Verbs go off to war Nobody knows what they’re fighting for No one has heard any insult or slight But they gather their armies and go off to fight
The Nouns stand resplendent upon the field They have swords, they have spears, they have many a shield They have grain, they have meat, they have beer beside They have valor and honor and courage and pride
They have horses and banners and many a lance But they stand in one place, and they will not advance They stand as if they have grown roots on the spot The Marshal cries “March!”, but his armies march not
The Verbs fill with joy at their enemies’ plight They yell and they jump and they shout and they fight They pierce and they hack and they mow and they slash They thrust and they bust and they shatter and smash
But their army, though valiant, is short of provisions They lack food, they lack water, they lack ammunitions They faltered and grumbled and groaned and retreated Distressed, disappointed, disheartened, defeated.
The Nouns and the Verbs both pitch their tents And they dig up some trenches and take the defence The war hasn’t stopped, but they both feel afraid So they summon their allies to come to their aid.
The host of the Adjectives comes from the West They are brave, they are daring, the greatest and best Their weapons are shiny and sharp and long Their horses are fast and their soldiers are strong.
But out of the East, to the beat of a drum The Adverbs, triumphantly, finally come They have carefully planned after war was declared They are really extremely completely prepared.
Boom! Smash! Pow! Smack! The Interjections launch their attack! Yikes! Whoa! Alas! Alack! The Interjections get beaten back!
You and I, hand in hand Come all the way from Pronoun-Land The king there wants this war to cease So he sends us off with his plan for peace.
But the king of the Verbs sees through our lies Says the Pronouns are merely the Nouns in disguise! So you and I, hand in hand Journey back to Pronoun-Land.
A month and a year and a decade go by And hundreds and thousands and millions die And the carnage and terror and bloodshed don’t cease Till there’s just the verb “make” and there’s just the noun “peace”.
The two of them ponder the cruelty of life And in vain seek a meaning from all of the strife And at last, come together, and take a deep breath And they bow, And shake hands, And they… Fight to the death!
WELP, I incepted myself with my own tags, here’s a ficlet.
“Quick question,” Bucky said.
Steve looked up, but didn’t stop moving passports and stacks of cash into a nondescript blue duffel, his mind busily ticking through logistics. He’d grab the glock taped behind the hidden drawer in the desk on their way out, and they could buy new clothes once they got across the border into neutral territory, so they didn’t need much else, apart from whatever Bucky wanted to bring. One duffle should be enough. “Yeah, honey?”
That is clearly a cabbage. I’m not joking: I thought this was a cabbage at first.
*Googles “purple cabbage”*
FUCK you’re right
Well fuck this thing then! And thanks for reporting it!
Damn, Evo beat me to it.
In my case, my first thought was not “ah, a cabbage” but “wow, that rock really does look *exactly* like cabbage; I’m glad someone reported it to Anomaly”.
And then I scrolled down and it *wasn’t* a food/[pretty rock] binary post, and I was confused.
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#reply via reblog #(note for followers: yelling about how terrible it is when rocks look like food is a running joke on Anomaly’s blog) #food #(but not really)
