Since I'm discussing my brother and it's gaining me a ton of followers, I may as well sabotage it by telling you one of the worst stories I have about him. Especially since I have photo documentation of this one.
My brother is a Baptist minister, but humans contain multitudes so he's also an absolute pornography fiend. One of my earliest brother drama memories was him racking up a giant phone sex bill and my dad having to call the phone company and dispute it.
He told them that his son didn't have permission to access those kinds of numbers. Technically true, but he left out the fact that his son was like 22 or something and on leave from serving as ballast aboard the USS Truxton.
He used to lay in our family room watching low rent porn on Showtime (Red Shoe Diaries type stuff) with his foot up on the controls so he could change the channel when someone walked in (we lacked a remote).
I walked in on him watching two office workers dry hump and he impotently flailed at the TV in an attempt to change the channel. After a few wayward swings he turned the entire thing off and we were left there in awkward silence.
Without saying a word I walked to the kitchen, got my drink, and walked back out. I think the silence was more painful than any zinger my 14 year old brain could have uncorked.
I wonder if he still thinks about it. Anyways.
A few years back I was renting a house down in Queen Creek (ugh) so that my parents and two of my brothers could live with me. He was one of those brothers. I had to lock down our DirecTV after he ordered something called Cum Stained Casting Couch.
Again, he's a Minister.
One night my nephew and I were there alone and I got the bright idea to search my brother's room with a black light. I thought this would be hilarious. COME, LET US DISCOVER WHAT'S INSIDE!!
My nephew, who also sucks by the way, was all geared up and ready to go. We swept the back wall and thought maybe this might not be so bad... then we found a single stray shot. A harbinger of what was to come.
We followed the trail down to the back of the door, which seemed to be a landing zone of some kind. It looks like he'd been peppering it with sustained fire since he moved in.
The desk was the other hotspot. As my nephew swept the wand over the desk it started to look like gazing into a planetarium. Very quickly the joke was on us and I ejected.
I checked the doorknob before we left, then told my nephew to open the door.
The next stop was his bathroom. Keep in mind the bathrooms were cleaned at least weekly, so this is AT MOST a week of his handiwork.
DID HE GET ANYTHING IN THE BOWL?
This man is so disgusting he personally gave one of my other brothers a complex about hand washing. The dude never washes his hands (it gets worse), which you can tell by the state of the light switch.
He lived with a family friend for awhile. When he moved in there was like 1/4 roll of toilet paper in his bathroom. When he moved out like a year later that same 1/4 roll of toilet paper was still there.
THE MAN DOES NOT WIPE.
Our operating theory is that his anal crevice is its own ecosystem, it exists in perfect homeostasis, and introducing or removing any one variable may upset its delicate balance.
It's like how sloths have a type of algae that exist only in their fur, I'm sure there are extremophiles that exist near his anus, forms of life like those seen near deep sea vents: too strange and too extreme for us to fully comprehend.
so as you may gather i'm not a fan
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He was a master craftsman in Norway who had reached the age of retirement, but decided to move his whole family to America because poverty was so bad and there were no prospects for his kids.
He was an incredibly inventive man who loved new technology. His furniture often included mechanical traps and hidden compartments.
Their first winter in America they lived in an earthen dugout. That dugout became the basement of the Norwegian craftsman style house he built. On the first floor. The second floor he made totally different. Modern American. Why? Probably boredom.
What depresses me about Picard is how cynical the whole thing is. It’s not that shows like TNG or DS9 didn’t want to be successful, of course they did, but fundamentally they had stories they wanted to tell and themes they wanted to explore.
Picard has nothing to say. It’s hollow. Empty. It’s inviting you to remember how you felt when you watched earlier shows. I’m kinda tired of companies having contempt for me. I get enough of that from Apple, I don’t need it from Paramount too.
I just don’t see the value in going back and revisiting old characters. Move on. If I want to see Picard or Kirk or whoever I can do that. Those shows still exist. Don’t smother writers by making them retell the same stuff with the same characters.
Strange moments early in today’s arraignment as the former President opened a briefcase filled with loose pizza slices. Judge Merchan asked a bailiff to remove the pizza, causing the former president to strip down to the waist and scream about George Sosros.
Shortly thereafter a man dressed as a patriotic clown burst into the courtroom and made a dash for the former president. Judge Merchan demanded the clown to be taken into custody, with predictable results.
Once order was restored, a weeping Trump explained at length why he couldn’t have pushed his ex wife Ivanna to her death. To which a baffled Judge Merchan said “Sir, the question was is this your handwriting.”
Re: Fetterman. Depression is a thief, a liar, a tormenter. It doesn't care how tough you are, how smart you are, how successful you are, or how loved you are. It tells you that you're worthless, that people hate you, that everyone in your life would be better if you were dead.
It makes everything harder, even the simplest things. It makes interacting with people difficult. It makes you want to hide away from the world. It's brutal. And a big chunk of the population will still tell you to suck it up and go for a walk, get a little sun.
Everyone has sad moments. Depression is different. It's like a pall hanging over everything, sucking the color and joy out of every aspect of life. Imagine a world where nothing is fun, nothing is pleasurable, nothing tastes good. Just day after day of fucking gray.
I guess tonight is the fourth anniversary of my dad’s death. Hard to believe. I still expect him to show up unannounced with some weird scheme. The kind of thing that exhausted me at the time but now I miss. It was always something weird and just barely legal. Not in a Gaetz way.
From the time I turned about 19 my dad spent his life struggling. He made a ton of money in the 80s and 90s, but he both spent bit and gave big. He was always helping people with problems big and small.
He went from being a head of sales who flew all around the world dealing with suppliers to doing a little bit of everything to scrape by. Even when he had no money he spent most of his energy trying to help others. Everywhere we went people loved him.