#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #puns #nsfw text #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
“This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you’re a dead motherfucker”
–Big Bill Hell
There was a time when you’d see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They’ve been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you’re the first to think of that, dipshit?
It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You’re reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.
You can’t even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.
You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you’re broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, “buy” some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!
Now take those things you “bought”, across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don’t bounce! You’ve kited a check. You’ve surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We’re talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We’re so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.
“Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we’ll rip your nuts off”
– Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)
Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don’t care. Way less clout than you’d think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don’t know, we don’t “do” army here at Bloomberg. You probably don’t even know their names! I don’t! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.
There’s another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That’s a real title. He’s the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We’re talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I’m tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We’re not gay though, and especially me, I’m probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of securityI’d feel burying my head into his hard chest.
You get it. He’s your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you’ve fucked with the tools in your dad’s garage. And dad’s been drinking. You’re in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don’t know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply – Jesus H, I’ve got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.
No way pal. They’ve thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he’s going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you’re going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke…I need to go use the restroom real quick.
We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It’s not something to be taken lightly, and it isn’t. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don’t even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.
COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)
“Can call all you want, but there’s no one home //
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone //
Out in the club, and I’m sipping that bubb //
And you’re not gonna reach my telephone”
–Lady Gaga
I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn’t that super fucked up?
While it’s not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else’s telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called “Phreaking”.
Here’s the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. “Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account.”
BOOM! Your name isn’t Reginald whatever and that company doesn’t exist, but you just received a deposit. It’s fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn’t your responsibility to handle who your business’ clients/etc are, it’s their’s. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that’s kind of on them, isn’t it? I haven’t stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.
Well, it’s too clever. It’s too slick. This is the United States of America. It’s one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it’s another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.
You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it’d work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.
It’s called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there’s wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There’s so many wires with those.
COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)
“People calculate too much and think too little.”
– Charlie Munger
It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:
“Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money”. And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.
Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.
You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don’t want to fuck with you. It is also..I don’t know man…something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you’re making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you’ve built that house plus some extra. You’ve contributed.
COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i’ll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #adventures in human capitalism #unreality cw #nsfw text? #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
“Hi y’all, it’s Chronomaster42, the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, here with another taste test. I’m here in 1976, and I’m gonna get some fries from Mickey D’s before they changed the recipe, and then I’m gonna take ‘em back to 2022, and get fries from the same McDonald’s, so I can compare. Now, I’ve got my Nixon, uh, Ford? Carter? Era fries right here, so now I’m gonna”
*everything appears stretched and distant, and then the camera flies through space, through the sun, over millions of different Earths, past the faces of individual people in a thousand different timelines, splintered day by day, the long-dead alive once more, their varied futures lying before them. They appear to be screaming*
“annnnnd here we are, gettin’ the new fries, today. I have to say, I like the old fries a bit better, bit more crisp, but Mickey D’s fries are still Mickey D’s fries, y’know? Anyway, I know some of you guys were freaked out at all the screaming time faces last video, but like, I’m used to ’em, and they aren’t even audible to me? But y’know what is audible? That’s right – Audible, use code -”
“Hi y’all, it’s Chronomaster42, the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, here to respond to some allegations.”
“Lots of you are saying, Chronomaster42, why don’t you stop World War II? And I keep saying that I can’t change history. History’s got, like, antibodies, and these haters eject me back to my time if I do anything that’ll change anything. Like the space time con…tainium doesn’t want me traveling around time.”
“And before you start bringing up that guy who erased…France? The fuck is France? From ever existing, that wasn’t me, you guys. Get your facts straight. That was @true_chronomaster, the only TikToker with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space. i have nothing to do with the Evil Leaper Challenge. I don’t have a shadow self. But y’know what I do have? Some words from our sponsor, Raid: Shadow Legends -”
“Hi y’all, it’s Chronomaster42, the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, and today I’m gonna be doing the challenge Gamer_Springtrap2011 gave me, where I’m travelin’ back in time to finally figure out which religion is true, and then I’m gonna make a tier list so we can put all this drama about which religion’s the right one behind us and just settle on one of ’em that’s the best. Like, finally, you know?”
“But before we go back in time to see if Adam and Eve was real, we’ve gotta check in with our sponsor, Adam and Eve, discreet packaging and shipping -”
“Hi y’all, it’s Chronomaster42, the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, still sorry to every world religion, though like, you should really be mad at Gamer_Springtrap2011 for trolling me so hard. I got trolled guys. I’m sorry for my video ‘CHALLENGE: I get this guy sitting under a tree in India to break his concentration’. I’m sorry for my video ‘WHOA: I told a Roman cop where a guy was and got THIRTY SILVER COINS?!?!?’ and shout out to Judas for catching my strays. Like, guys, I’m sorry. You should be mad at Gamer_Springtrap2011 though.”
“Anyways, I’ve got this cool new money-making opportunity in the past. So like, what if we take things from the past, and sell them now? I found this guy with all this metal in his house, and it turns out nowadays they’ll pay a lot for it ’cause normally you can only get copper from people stealing wire to pay for meth, but this is really good, honest copper. But like, I’ve gotta preserve history and shit, so I’ve been taking his copper and replacin’ it with painted rocks. I think people are realizing ’cause every time I go to his house the copper guy’s real mad and carrying stone tablets, it’s funny. That Earnie Sir guy may be selling bad metal, but if you want real metal to hang on your walls, check out our sponsor Displate -”
“Hi y’all, it’s TimeController73, the one EbaumsTuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, and I uh, think I might have messed up the continuum a bit. I’m gonna take some time to fix it, but you know who will have the movie you want to stream right now? Today’s sponsor, Blockbuster+…”
“Hello y’all, it’s ChronoMaster42, the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, and we’ve gotta talk about something important. Earlier this month I asked to ride that submersible down to the Titanic. They said no ’cause I didn’t have enough money. So, like, I thought, man, you can control time and space! Go back to the real thing.”
“But thing is, I got back there, right, and I was hopin’ I could push Leo back on that raft ’cause the two of them could totally fit, CinemaSins had the real shit on that, but get this: he wasn’t even there? Like, the two of them aren’t even real? I looked all over the Titanic for ’em and I ended up falling from the ship when it broke in half so I made a portal under me, and it’s kind of scary that I could have died on the Titanic and not been able to make content anymore. If I died in 1912 and didn’t have new videos the algorithm would deprioritize me, y’know? It’s so scary to think about. And like, I know I said the screaming faces of everyone’s potential futures didn’t get to me but man, they kinda get to you when there’s also a lot of people screaming in the water.”
“When I got back to 2023 I had two boxes on my doorstep. One was unmarked and just had a note in it saying ‘THEY ARE COMING. THE RECKONING IS NEAR. YOU ARE NOT THE ONLY ONE, AND THE ANTIBODIES GROW. YES, THEY DO GROW, AND THEY HUNGER.’ And I’m kinda hungry too, ’cause I didn’t eat on the Titanic, so it’s good that the other was my first meal kit from today’s sponsor, Hello Fresh…”
“Hi, y’all, it’s ChronoMaster42, the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space, and I’ve got some exciting news. I’m gonna be collabing with Mr. Beast on a new challenge video where we, like, go back in time and try to survive for seven days. It’s gonna be cool as hell. We wanted to go back to Imperial China, but Mr. Beast said he was afraid we might not be respectful enough to the Emperor and thus would commit 大不敬, one of the Ten Abominations, and due to our non-noble status, we wouldn’t be able to rely on the “八議” or ‘Eight Deliberations’. Which, like, fair ‘nough. So we settled on our backup plan, which is a lot safer: France in 1916! Man, I can’t wait to see the Eiffel Tower before it got all old stuff and like, we’re gonna see it! Stay tuned, guys!”
“Hello, you all. It’s ChronoMaster42, and normally I’m the only Youtuber with the ability to travel through, and control, time and space. But today…I’m the only Youtuber who’s sorry they got Mr. Beast exploded.”
“I am. I know everyone’s canceling me, they’re canceling everyone just cause – it was his idea to go back to the Western Front anyway, and…”
*sigh*
“I’m sorry. I understand how upset you all are at the exploding of Mr. Beast. I want to apologize to the internet and to the whole Chrono crew, ‘cause I know I, uh, *stares into the camera* have changed a lot as a human being, and I’m disappointed in myself more than I’m disappointed in…myself, for going too far? Man, I don’t know what I can do to make it right.”
“I’ve been reflecting. I mean. Reflecting and I’m sorry and like, I understand. I’ll never explode Mr. Beast again. Though…he’s kinda already exploded…and I…don’t think I can re-explode him…”
“*deep breath*”
“I’m sorry for my actions, and I want to move on from this and make videos in the future, with my sponsor…with my sponsor…with my…*furious clicking*…I…don’t have a sponsor. I’ve…I’ve been demonetized! No! No, no, no…let me appeal. Let me appeal…”
“*click*”
A cloud appears behind ChronoMaster42, a swirling vortex through which one can see flashes of times from across all of history, across many timelines; it advances on him.
“What – uh, antibodies, you’re not, like, supposed to be in the present! ‘cause it’s not fixed and shit, and -!”
The cloud envelops ChronoMaster42, who screams, a trail of faces screaming into infinity within the cloud as he, and the antibody, vanish. Stream runs for over four hours with a shot of his empty room, until it’s turned off by a sudden power failure.
Hey guys, it’s ChronoMaster42, the only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only only ȏ̸̱n̴̬̽l̷̐ͅy̴̹̅ ̶̭̉ò̷̦n̶̡̐l̴̫̓y̶̟͝ ̴̞̿o̵̪͠n̸̡̉l̵̺̍y̸̜̌ ̸̲̅ò̵̥n̷̩͗l̵͈͂ÿ̴̰́ ̷̟̐ȏ̷̭n̴͖̆l̶̪͠ỳ̴̘ ̵̳͗ơ̸̟n̶̗̽ļ̵̿ÿ̶̫́ ̷̱͒o̴͇̊n̵̕ͅl̸̂͜y̵̱̾ ̵͎̈́ǒ̸̼n̷̺͐l̸̯̉ŷ̶̹ ̸͙͐ȯ̶̻n̷̺͗l̴̝̀y̵͇̋ ̵̫͆o̴̞͘n̵͙̓l̴͎͌y̴͓͐ ̸͓̏o̵͙͝n̷̥͘l̵͈̓y̸͈͘ ̴̬̒o̶̧͔̻̥͖͔͙͂̂͛̅́̒̎̓̓̿̇͊͛̀̉͂͂͑̚̚͝͝͝͠͝n̴̨̡̛̺̥̯̥͇̟̩̜̱̖̰͔͍͖̥̲͈̯̙̠̰̬̠̝̟̘̭̱̫͈̩͌͆͒͐̎͋̍͌̋͐̆̒̆͛͐͆̾̽̏̓̑̄͘͜͠ͅl̸̢̘̬̪̳͎̼̣̪͎̘̞̰͍̖͎̙̜̳̬̺̬͙͔͕͌̀̔̍̓̀̈̊̊̐̌̒̾̎̈́͋̑̅͆̀͘͠͠͝͝ͅy̴̛̛̠̺͔͖̔̅͗̾̉̋̒̐͊́̈́́̀̇͊̎̃̀̓̾̕͠͝ͅ ̶̢̨͓͖̱̩̣̳̯̘̗̳͙̗͙̱̳̦̩͇̤̭͙̉̆͌̐́͑̑̓̑̋͗͆̑̉͌̔̒͌̒͗́̈̍̌̋͂͊͛̆̿͛̄̋̒̊̂̌̒̿̅͌̆͋̚͠͝͠͠ͅͅǫ̷͔͇̜̥̫͇̥̳̠͕͖̟̖̫̗̼̝̠͙̣̲̜̰̉͛͛̑͂̋̎̅̓́̈́̚͜n̶̨͕̖̟̭̯͓̫̙̪͙̺̯̰͎̽̍̈́͝l̵̢̬̦͚̟̥̟̼̯̰͇͈͉͍̲̫͎̠̖͔͇̲̺͉̼̰̦̀̐̄̒͋̓́̕͜͝y̸̢̧̡̢̡̢̡̢̛̛̲͚̫͕̰̭͙̗̻͎͓̥̲̭̱̜̻̟̣̮͓̺̘̫̦͚̗͚̥̥̲͖̿̾͒̏̿͑̓̈̀͑̾͊͂̋̋̑͂̌͆̑̐̈́́̽̅̈́̂̍̇͌͆́̕̚̚͜͠͝͠ ̷̨̧̧͓̜̻̤̰̰͇̠͖̙̫̥̜͇̼̥̭͖͕̹̹̠͖̖̣̹̺̪̼̦͛̔̿̂̈́̈͊̿̓̒̃͆̿̿͒́̈́͒̽͐̑̊́̋̚̚̕͘͜͠͝ͅͅͅỡ̶̧̨̡̢̢̧̧͔̩̹̥̼̟̥̞̲̜̱̼̺̳̻̥͇̲̻̙̟̗̞͈̘̤̮̫̻͓̀̈́̂̾̍̔͒͂͗̆̃͑͑̎͋̉̔̾̉̑̇͌̊͗͊̑̑̍̉̄͋̚͜͠͝͝͝ņ̴̢̧̡̡̪̥͕͕̱̜͖̖̞̰̥͕̞̪̜̯̖̖̳̥͔͖̗̹͕̯̈́̾͋͌͊́͑̒͌̃̏͑͊͐͗͛́̿̾̀͐̔͌̔̑̌̃̌̄̋̕͘͜͝ḽ̶̨̡̦̣̺̯̼̭̻̮̼̪̝͙̣͉͚̥̼̙̙̯̜͈͕̙͇͖̭͇̌̆̀͒͗̍̊̎̅̏̈́͑́̆͐̓́̀̎͑̐̇̆̎͊͑̉̈́́̒̅̾͋̈́̋̅̚͠͝ͅy̶̧̡̡̛̠̘̻͈͇̰̮̤̯̰̤̲̜͖͖̯̫̲̟̤͖̪̫̲̲̳̞̹̫̯̬̯̝̱̜̩͈͙͖͋̀͒̈́̂̐̀̃̉̏̇͑̔̃͛͗̈͗͗̅̃͋̌͗͐͌̽̕̚͝ͅͅͅ ̶̡̢̢̤͈̟̬͙̲̯̣̥̬͓͈̠͉͚̤̘̔̓̓͊͛̄͊͐̓͛͐̅͌̑̑͗̍͋̏̈̽͛̒̍͌͛̓̅͗̈̀̕̕͘̕͜͠ò̴̧̢̪̑̎́̏͆̋̃̆̍͊͊̇̉̂̀͂̽̀̎̋̃̇̏́̐̉͌͛͂͆̍̆̐̊̃̀̕ͅn̵̡̨̢̡̨̧̪̜̺͍̥̫͎͖̳̜̭̜̺̪͇̮̬̙̯̟͔̻̫̤̩̖̝̩͕̩̤̯͙̫̘͔̬̘͊̔̓̎̈́̑̈͐̂̋̋̑͜ͅļ̵̡̡̨̢̧̻̣̝̤̮͚͖͕̲̫̝̖̻̞̞̩̪̗͎̯̖̙̣̻͚͈̬͈̝̼̙͖̩͖̻͛͗͊̇̀͊̓́̂͒̇́̎̑̽̓̂̏̃̑͒̂̈́̚͜͝͠͝ͅy̸̡̡̡̩̠̫͓̘̞͈͖̫̰̤̼͎̼̙̳̒̎̂̈́̊͋̂͋̔̇ ̵̡̛̼̟͉͓̭͚͈̝̩͇͖̜̾͊̑̆́̈́́̌́̅̏͒̌̏̋̍̽̌̑͌͗̍̾͆̓́̓̂̐̿̍̾͒͋͂̇̽̎̅̏͘̕͝͠͠͠ǫ̶̡̡̛̼̙̙̭̗̣̳͕̘̪̣̩̣̲̳̳̦͍͈̬͍͇̻͍̤͚͇̥͍͎̫̥̺̱͕͙̲̲̠̘͍̞͌͋́̍͗̉̍̽͂̃̇̀̌́̎̎̀̍̈́́̎͑͗̄̏̓͗̄̈͒̅͗̀̉̊̍͋͆̚̕͘͝ͅͅṇ̷̢̛͕̥̝̥̗̖͍̩̝͈̱͙͉͕͇̊͐̏̓̏͊͑͂͐̏̊͗̇̀̽ͅļ̵̧̞͖̲̗͖̫͉̣̟̏̈́̋̍͐̅͂̍̃̾̇̏̐͛̋̌̔̕͘y̴̡̡͖̤̮̠̮̫̟̱̗̖͉̫̱̩̳͔͇̪̟̗̫̣̬͐̂̓̌͂́̒̅̈́̒͐̈́͊͐̌̅̈́̀̓̏̽̀̊͗̈́̓̽́͛͗͗̍͐͝͝͝ͅͅ ̷̢̡̙̦̺̮̟̺̥̱̫͔̎̄͊̒̇͛̅̉̑̂̒̏͘͝ͅỏ̴̢̜̌̽̃̓͗̆̚ñ̶̨̢̼̹̥͙̳͔̯͈͔̲̩̭̮̫̜̟̣̰͖̜͎̻̣̹̩͈̳̺̾̌̓̏̏̅̃͠ḷ̸̢̡̛̜̺͈̲̙̝̣͈̙̭͎̜͖̝̩͚̹̖̪̙͉͔̱̺̉̏͛̾͊̀͊̒̐̋͑̈́̿͂͒́͂̃̅̀͑͐̋͊̿͑̄͋̈́͜͝͠ͅy̶̜̭̲̺̣̣͖͍̺͖̩͍̹̬͈͎̹̬͚͇̩̻̘͚͉̻͍͍̻̯̱̗̩̹̱̳͎̮͇͔̰̓̉̓̍̄̾̓̍͑͊̽͌̈̾́̑͗̿͑̋͂̄͌̓̿̍̕̚͜͝͠͝ͅ ̷͕̀̎̊͋̎̃́̏͗͗̒́͑̀́̽͆͆̓̾͑͌͂͂̽͛͑̅͊̓͐̃͑̋͗̃̈́̓̚̕̕̚͘̚͘͘ơ̷̧͓̫̣̥̳̻̘̻̝͎̪͔͓̹̺̱̰̺͕̪͈̱̼͍̺̯̼̖͇͚̻̰̥̥̯̱̭̺͔̰͇͎̗̞̗̂̎̇̍̏̓͗̽͑̐̾͛̏͐̇̅̓̌̈́̒̈́̈͊̌̀̈́͒͑̂̈́̀̽̌̂̌̈́͋̄͐́̉͆̇͗͂̕̕̕͜͜͝ń̴̛̰̰̰̜̮̬̙͖͓͎͕̹͉̯͙̦̹̻̳̤̜̻͇͔͛͂̅̎́͘͝ļ̵͖̘̳̹̜̱̰̲̑̌̈́̆̍̓̇ỵ̶̢̧̧̢̺̥̰̲͙̤̖͓̟̗͍͔̘̰̥̜̯̖̼̜̟͔̞̗̝̫͔̟̩̫̫̗͖͙̬͍̆͛͜ͅͅ ̷̠͔͖͎̝̿͊̀̎̓̉́̑̄͆̅ơ̷̡̨̢͕͙̭̗̹̼̼͓̮̗̲̬͕̬̥͙̲͙̼͖͓̟̜̖̯̟̜̜̜̖̖͇̺̟̙̳͖̜̱̗͇̫̗̪̏͆̑͋̊̓̆̃̔̏͂̊̏ͅṉ̷̨̨̧̡̨̨̢̢̛̛̳̳͕͇̻͍̻̗̥̣͖̰̭̟̗̘̖̞̖̬̺̝̼̝̩̹̝͇̳̗̬̠̔̒͌̎̍̏͋̽̿̊̈́́̅̒̚ͅͅļ̷̡̭̯̤̲͖̜̯̟̟̗̼̺̩̳̖̱͍̝̫̣̖̪̤̲̖͈͇͎̳̣͔̱̥̑̋̑̕͜͜͜ͅy̵̨͔͚͇͕͚̫̯͈̞̬͕̠̻͗͐̿͑̽͊́̽͒͛̍̉̉̌͒̈́̿̿̔̏̊̈́̀̾̇́̃̊͑̇̈́͌̅̊̃͋͒̚͘͝͠ ̸̡̡̳̩͈̫̙͕̥̫̖̳̼͔̺̠̳̥̠̬͉̺̰̰̮͍̠̗̪̰͙̮͇͚͒̌̿̌̀͠͝ͅơ̶̢̢͉̰͔̦̯̺͓̣̯̪̼̰̪̩͙̩̱̣̫͓̱̣̟͓͍̓̅̈̑̆͌̾̀̏̏̀̓̐̔͆͗̑̊̇̐͆͗̇̌̈́̑̆̅́̇͆̔̂͛̔̍͌̄͘̕̕͠͝͝͝n̷̢̧̳̿͠ļ̸̢̡̢̡̨̡̧̼͇̳͍̺̺̗̹͚̘̣̞̗̙̻̟̥͈̥͇͎̺͙̠͉͈̻̠̥̼̼̣̩̖͔͈̟̫̺̤̬̃̓͋̐̈́͒͗̎́͜ȳ̸̨̧̨̪͓̭̤̯͎̣͖͔̖̗͎͉̥̼͉͍̲͖͓̪͕̝̟̬̜̤̣͙̪̥̙̖̗̣̟͔͚̔̐̈́̒͜ ̷̧̢̨͔̝̫͎̪͍͈͔̖̹̗͙̼̫͙͙̬͔͈̤͉̙̪̞͖̹̠̣͍̭͉͍̞̰̻͈̼̂̿̐̄̒̀̎̂̍̆͒̂̈́̓͑̉͌̃͐͋́͋͋͂̌͛́́̋̇͒͒̀̊́̏̀̎̆̄͘͜͠͝ͅͅǫ̸͔̭̩̩͉͕̲̝̥̣̬͕̼̤̰̝̓̄͛̊͑̔͆̾̂̓̐͛̈́͋͜͜͝͝ͅn̴̨̢̢̺͉̼̼̠͚͉̠̪͚̱͈͓̪͓͖̻̮͎̞̫̓͂͜ļ̷̢̛̛͕͓̖̞͉̺̜̱͓͕͚͈͈͈̜̩̺̲̞͉̫̣̥̙̻̙̹͕̖͈͚̙͚̠̗̰̹͌͒̉̅̄̂̊̎̉̐̄̏̈́̏̈̏̐̂̃͌̾̿̿̀͗̆̉̌̄̅̔̀̀̓͛̑̀̚̚͘͘͜͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅy̸̨̧̨͖̼̩̳̩̝̦͇͍͙̙̪̠͎̘̪͈͍͈̺̩̲̼̫̲͕̦̘̘͎̦̣͚̘̺̩̩̞̼̤̆̾͗̆́̉̈́̍͒̍͆̀̈́̎́͗̇̈́̑͌̒̂͆́̎̓͗̍͌̕̕̚͠͝͠ ̸̧̛̘͈͎̘͚͙͇͇̙̖̠̙̟͛̆̉̅͗̓̑̍̅̀̈́̉̈̈́̄̒̌̾̆͂͊̒̍̃̀̋̈̄̆͊͐͛͑̌͘̚͝ọ̵̧̧̡̧̥͇͇̯̭̓̊̍̿̀̈́͂̔͋́̔͗̓̊̿͋̌̓͗͋̔͒̂͂̈́̕͠͠͝ṇ̸̨̢̛̥̝̖͚͓͚͎̺͕̦̯̗̹͎͉̝͙̼̲̥̮̳̀̑̉̏̃̅̓͒̉̒͆́̒̇͋͌̃͒́͊̇͌̔͋̒͂̈̅̌̏͂͂̂͑̇͛̃̐̋̏̅̚̚͘͜͝ͅļ̴̧̼̯̖̳̬̙̱̣͕͔̖̖͈̗̻̱͔̞͙̬̲͔̤̱̮͉̺̯͔̳̻͈͙̙̲̰̗̳́͌̀̉̃̉̀̍̂̑̏̈̏̿̌̑͘͘͜͝͝ͅỹ̴̨̨̧̢̡̛̠̱̯̤̤̳̗̹̞͚̹͎͖̠͉̰̙̹̲͚̹̝̦̥͙̣̩̯̤̥̜͖̮̮͍̺̠̬̱̳͎̆͌͌̾̔̌̈́̈̂̓͌̑̿͊̿̀͛̂̈̽̓̆̐̈̏́̄́̇̆͗͒͒̍̉͗͝͠͝͝͝ͅ ̵̨̡̧̛̬̹͙̰̰̺̼̹̮̳͎̟͔̺͎̼͚̠̰̗͈͚̲͍͔̘̻̗͙̥̞̰̻͚͖͈͛͗̎͛̀̿̀̓̑́̄͆̓̉̏͋̌̈́̎̒̈̈́͛͗̐́̽̅̏̏̇̾̅̕͘͠͝o̵̭͚̼͋͐̿̒̅̓̀͑̌͌́̌̽͊́̑̂͗̽̒̍͊͛̔̔̂̓̍͊͋̏̐̐̎̿͘͘̚̚͘̕͘ņ̶̡̮̤̻̪͓̞͓̤̫̣̩̙̲̤̰͔̤̯̇̀́͋̅͊̈̆̃͊̅̈́͌́̎͂͋̀̈̏̿̆̾̀̌̋́́͛͌̓̓́̀̋́̃̑̕͝͠͝͝ͅl̴̛̯̺̝̦͎̥̳̼͍̝͖̭͛̉̓̿͊̉͗̏̾̒͑̔̅͊̓̔̀̃͌̅̾̃̌̐̅̔̀̇̃̌́̀̀͜͝͝͝͠ý̷̨̡̨̢̝̖̙̮̞̠͔̩͔͉̪̻̹̰̟̱̬̦̘̹̤̱̗͙͎̮̠̟̞̬͖̮͜͜ͅͅ ̶̨̧̢̡̝̘̺̯͇̣̺̝̗̯͎̻̲͙͔͉͉͒̅̆͐͒͐͆͊͌̀̈́̓͐̓̉̊̊̔̿̏̓͛̄̄̿̈́͐̐̽̃͑̑̾̃̅̑̆̋̚̕̕̕͜͝
1 day after the livestream, ChronoMaster42’s videos started showing disruptions like this. 12 hours later, his videos started to become still shots where he once was. 6 hours later his channel was deleted. 3 hours later people started to forget his name. 90 minutes later he was a distant memory. 45 minutes later,
It takes a lot of work to erase something. You have to delete it, empty the recycle bin, but that doesn’t do it. It’s still there. Until it gets overwritten by something new. Until that happens it’s hiding, being torn apart in the background by new objects encroaching upon it’s space. It’s still there.
He’s still there.
Every day another thing happens that is logged, he’s still there.
Little by little he is removed.
Perfect, from the perspective of them.
And the echoes of reaction videos, liking and subscribing, and sponsorships diffuse through the walls of the interdimensional complex.
#storytime #time travel #anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #amnesia cw #death tw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
i think i could design a better death arena for children than those hunger games amateurs.
the whole premise of the games is all pageantry. every year you get a crop of 24 candidates around whom the entire state media apparatus dedicates an entire year to building celebrity narratives. this candidate is the younger sibling of last year’s winner – these candidates are young lovers forced to compete – he’s smart – she’s fast – root for them, care about them, watch them, form opinions on them, bet on them. and then they stick them all in an arena to kill each other, which is a great entertainment premise, except that they make the arenas themselves really boring and generic. ooo, they’re in…a forest.
it’s not even an interestingly designed forest. imagine if the game designers treated their arena like an actual video game designer treats level design. discrete zones with multiple paths between each room, creative use of lighting to guide players to points of interest, points of interest scattered across the map, discoverable resources hidden to encourage exploration. instead they just have a generic outdoors location and if you get too close to the edge they throw a random fireball at you.
the 75th games are especially bad about this. the arena is laid out radially into 12 wedges, and each hour one wedge becomes especially dangerous in a 12-hour loop. as a mechanic, this is genius. it forces everyone to keep moving, making “survival by hiding” an engaging and tense viewing experience instead of someone sitting in a tree for three days. plus, it encourages players to return to the center of the arena, where travel time between wedges is short, which creates a high-value zone for players to regularly return to and conflict over. in other words, it’s a mechanic which incentives players to adopt dramatic, dynamic, exciting behaviors which are entertaining to watch (not to mention it communicates geography to the audience well). but it only incentives those behaviors if the players understand what’s happening, and they go out of their way not to tell the players anything! when they figure out what’s going on, the showrunners spin the arena to disorient the players, like they’re intentionally trying to get them to just. randomly wander the jungle instead.
this isn’t even to mention how often they create undramatic, boring deaths. they plant poison berries around the arena. they supply no fresh water and no way to get it. they roll poison clouds over sleeping victims. these happen to work out in the books themselves but you have to imagine that extremely often these just result in players dying unexciting deaths.
the cardinal sin though, of course, is that nothing is done to personalize the arena for the crop of contestants that year. if i’m designing the 75th hunger games and two of my most beloved contestants famously had to cancel their wedding because of a return to the games, i would OBVIOUSLY give them a trail of, i don’t know, wild game which conveniently leads directly past a well defended wedding chapel. will they hole up there for a while? hold a mock ceremony for themselves? do or receive ironic violence here? stare wistfully and move on? any of it is better television than getting attacked by generic attack monkeys. you should have a dozen of these things on the map for every single candidate. but the game makers are more interested in doing the same thing every other game has done than in telling a compelling story.
it makes me second guess enjoying the children’s murder arenas at all.
I mean, if you’re going to orchestrate an annual media stunt to keep people pacified, then you should put more effort into it to, you know, keep people involved.
Tags:
#Hunger Games #meta #death tw? #murder cw? #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
i will never be over the fact that during first contact a human offered their hand to a vulcan and the vulcan was just like “wow humans are fucking wild” and took it
“sir…these…these humans…they greet each other by…” *glances around before furtively whispering* “by clasping hands…”
*prolonged silence* “oh my…”
“sir…sir how will we make first contact with them? surely we…we cannot refuse this handclasping ritual, they will take it as an insult, but what vulcan would agree to such a distasteful and uncomfortable ritual??”
*several pensive moments later* “contact the vulcan high command and tell them to send us kuvak. i once saw that crazy son of a bitch arm wrestle a klingon, he’ll put his hands on anything”
I swear Vulcans only come in two types and they are “distant xenophobes” or “horny on main for humanity”. Also apparently this guy is Spock’s great-grandfather and frankly that explains everything.
Hey so I looked into this at one point and that handshake literally created a lifelong telepathic bond between the two of them, and basically all of Solkar’s descendants were later obsessed with humans, including freaking SPOCK, so I’m not saying that handshake was so gay and good that it created an intergenerational telepathic bond between Solkar’s descendants and humans, but I’m also not….not….saying that.
The slow deliberation with which Solkar takes Cockrane’s–I’m sorry, Cochrane’s–hand… The sheer sensuality witch which Solkar infuses an otherwise borderline impersonal social ritual… It clearly shows a very conscious knowledge, on Solkar’s part, of what the significance of the handshake is in Vulcan terms and of how affected he is by it.
That’s why he’s so slow in doing it, and so sensual. A part of Solkar can’t believe this is happening, despite it being a perfectly logical thing to expect from a human, and the rest of him can’t believe how good it is.
I bet that if the camera zoomed in any further we would see the dilation of Solkar’s pupils and a quickly-repressed shiver of delight. Cochrane’s firm, businesslike clasp is probably (in sexual terms) being perceived as a deliciously carnal display of dominance.
No wonder Solkar is all like, “TAKE ME, YOU WILD-MANNERED BARBARIAN WITH ENTICINGLY ROUGH CALLUSES.”
Some Vulcan: we could probably just explain that handshakes are intimate in our culture
Solkar, rubbing lip gloss on his hand: don’t tell me how to do my job
Tags:
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #Star Trek #meta #nsfw text? #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
If you believe the news, these days, it’s never been easier to get murdered. Everyone is waiting to snuff you out. Even suburbs are roiling apocalyptic zones that mandate you buy a very expensive security system and an up-armoured luxury SUV. A road trip is completely out of the question. After all, who knows what kind of whackos are out there?
To answer this question, we became those whackos. No, we didn’t serial kill, or even parallel kill anyone. What we did was load up the old ‘72 Toyota Crown wagon with a bunch of spare oil and parts and hit the road. We wanted to figure out if the world really was all that dangerous, and to prove it, we stayed at only the sketchiest bed and breakfasts across New England.
Things got off to a bad start. You see, the coterie of folks that I usually travel with are not exactly the most refined individuals. Because a lot of us were raised entirely by junkyards and our parents’ respective parole officers (thanks Joerg) we have trouble “fitting into” the conventional structure of society. That wouldn’t stop a serial killer, of course, who would surely prey on at least one of our group as we slept soundly inside Maryland’s least rat-infested rustic cabin.
No such luck. In fact, it turns out that the proprietors were afraid of us. They had been conditioned by the news, you see, and spent the entire night sleeping in shifts, wondering when we would burst through their bedroom door, looking for jewelry that we could hock for money to afford a Holley carburetor rebuild kit. Little did they know that the Crown was in fact running a diesel engine out of a Cuban grey-market lawn tractor, and also that we had no intention of ruining the experiment by trying to cause trouble.
That first morning, we parted, each group wary of the other. The experiment could not continue: it was likely that we would encounter the same problem the entire way up the Old Bay Expressway. We knew what had to happen next. After driving at high speed, we arrived at the local TV station, barely shaven and ready to pitch our new fear-based “action news” program. The audience would surely believe ridiculous lies coming from disgusting dirtbags like ourselves, our crude language and 10w40-stained visages lending our dire warnings extra authenticity.
“Folks,” I began, in my most folksy voice, “you gotta get rid of any old Mopar parts you have on your property. They were made by sleeper-agent Communist agitators working with the Y2K bug. Send them to me for destruction.”
Tags:
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #storytime #unreality cw? #murder cw? #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
So if I told you someone was using century-old hand-crafted artisanal methods to adapt traditional folk tales into a quaintly obsolete art form from the American Golden Age that would sound like the most twee, precious, non-normie thing ever and I just described Disney animation.
Disney’s pretty weird like that. Like, take the parks. They’re combinations of Coney Island and World’s Fairs with this undisguisable midcentury earnestness. These are places that get seriously psyched about the potential of noveltransitmodalities.
And the theming – “Let’s look forward to the wonderful future of space exploration, celebrate our roots in farm towns and the frontier west, AND enjoy the exotic charm of the South Pacific and Old Dixie!”
THERE IS A PAGEANT WHERE ROBOTS PAY TRIBUTE TO EXECUTIVE-DRIVEN WHIG HISTORY.
Oh. Oh. And. “The rides aren’t very thrilling, but your kids will love the chance to explore the worlds of all their favorite authors – A.A. Milne, J.M. Barrie, Kenneth Grahame, Mark Twain, AND Lewis Carroll – while you’ll marvel at the exquisite background design.”
(Sun-dappled Edwardian neoteny and obsessive set decoration. Wes Anderson makes movies like Walt Disney made parks.)
And we’d recognize this all as a weird thing to exist in 2015 if we weren’t just used to it as the background noise of America. Like, I don’t really watch TV so I don’t see commercials much these days.
Oh man, they’re a trip in their own right if you’ve stopped taking them for granted. Like, “oh hey, for the next 30 seconds some of our best artists are going to use all their techniques and leverage all your emotions and desires and every social value in a masterful, unapologetic, and unforgettable bid for you to give us money, and then everyone will move on and no one will acknowledge this even happened.”
But the Disney World commercials in particular – you notice they don’t really make a case for going to Disney World, or even really explain what Disney World is. Because they’re not pitching Disney World, they’re reminding you of Disney World. It’s not “hey, Disney World is a thing you could go to”, it’s “hey, maybe it’s time for this generation’s pilgrimage”.
Disney’s weird. It’s kind of a company, but also custodian of some of the cultic functions of American culture, something like the priestly colleges of ancient Rome.
Like, they maintain sites of pilgrimage. I’m not saying that as a joke. Back of the envelope calculation, Americans go to Disney parks at a rate 7 times higher than Muslims go to Mecca. (The line between “tourist trap” and “religious site” has always been thin.)
And they’re custodians of the national narrative. Like I’ve said, they pitch “continuity with prewar small town and earlier frontier culture” as a fundamental, almost taken-for-granted aspect of Americanness with a confidence and charm you don’t often see these days. And I mean, hell, the Disney animated canon itself basically is to America what Grimm’s was to Germany.
And as custodians, they curate that narrative – like, we joke about “you know your identity group’s made it in America when you get your own Disney princess”, and laugh at the people reediting Disney character designs to look like their specific subgroup, but that only works because it’s fucking true, your identity group’s made it in America when you get your own Disney princess. I’ve worked with Disney Channel casting, and they mix ethnicities with the same care, precision, and scale that Pfizer mixes drugs.
And that robot pageant, the Hall of Presidents? Look at this history. It started out in the ‘70s as a celebration of consensus history and popular triumph, with character actors playing great men and Civil War tensions understood as a challenge to national unity. In 1993 it was reworked by Eric Foner to be narrated by Maya Angelou, use “regular people” unknowns to portray more vulnerable takes on historic figures and re-frame the Civil War in terms of slavery as a moral challenge. In 2009 they redid it again, mostly keeping the changes but bringing back some of the old Hollywood charm and putting Morgan Freeman as the voice of civic authority.
And like, as a representation of how America understands itself and its history, correct. That is absolutely, in every way, 100% correct.
(In the other direction, Walt Disney originally wanted to call it “One Nation Under God”, which yikes)
They say American copyright terms keep getting extended under pressure from Disney who wants to keep hold of all their founding properties, I almost wonder if it wouldn’t be less of a corruption of the civic system to just carve out special protections for Disney in recognition of their distinct role in America.
I used to be a lot more libertarian than I am now, and one of their tribal boogiemen, the idea of a “Ministry of Culture” – a government that sees the national culture as its domain, to shape as it will, “as it will” meaning as it always does with governments “through the instrument of bureaucracy” – that still rankles.
But what’s the alternative, though? You think about it and you realize it’s this – the national mythos rests in the hands of a publicly traded corporation.
(And then you maybe start to appreciate WHY having your king as the head of your church once made sense as a symbol of liberty and self-determination.)
#a few years ago OP began putting blanket infohazard warnings on his writing #I think his level of seriousness about that‚ from his own perspective‚ was somewhere above 0% and below 100% #but it’s been my experience that when people say stuff like that‚ they’re usually right even if they think they’re not #so I blacklisted his username #but blacklisting doesn’t apply to webpage view‚ so I did end up learning today of his death #I went back and checked the kontextmaschine posts that were on my dash today #and found that he was the one who wrote this classic post #which‚ it turns out‚ I have never actually reblogged #so‚ then‚ in honour of his memory‚ here is that one post with the thing #Disney #disappointed permanent resident of The Future #(is that tag about Disney or about the existence of mortality? yes) #death tw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what
Whenever I get a puncture wound I feel so smug towards any tetanus that might be in there. They have no idea about my sick ass vaccinated immune system. While you were crawling in soil my cells were studying Tdap. Now die by the hands of my learnéd warriors.
Tags:
#proud citizen of The Future #vaccines #illness tw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what
When censoring information out of pictures, do NOT use the marker tool. Block it out with a full filled in square, or use a mosiac filter. Marker tools are not fully opaque and are slightly off from black, which makes it possible to alter the levels and reveal the information underneath.
This is probably good advice anyway, but to reproduce it, it would be helpful to know what platform, and what exact procedure OP used.
For example, on Android there are separate ‘pen’ and ‘highlighter’ tools, which are confusingly similar. But the highlighter makes a mark which is intentionally translucent, whereas the pen mark appears opaque. In the last screenshot, it looks to me like some lines of text were covered with the pen tool, and are not visible, whereas others were covered with the highlighter tool, used repeatedly, and are still partly visible.
Either way, when combined with the Android crop bug – which in some cases / on some devices failed to actually remove the cropped-out pixels from the image file – I would say you should just never trust phone-app editing software to remove truly secret information from an image.
Tags:
#PSA #disappointed permanent resident of The Future #stalking cw #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
#anything that makes me laugh this much deserves a reblog #((this amusement not to be taken as expressing an opinion regarding the statement itself)) #sexism cw? #this probably deserves some other warning tag but I am not sure what #this post was queued because my to-reblog list is too long and I didn’t want to dump it on you all at once
Brinens and Things 
