TLDR; Formatting my ideas like I'm marketing them is too self-aggrandising, it sucks, boo
A major problem I have with stuff like Grammarly and why I stopped using it after one try is the fact that I don't like having to market my story concepts.
What I mean is the fact that because out of my friends/siblings I'm the Lore Forger of the story, so I'm often the one writing down the story's mechanics and even the animation details and aesthetic.
When we were developing the story's aesthetic, we came up with Multicultural Solarpunk where we mixed modern and traditional architecture with an overall biophilic semi-futuristic world.
When I described this in the document, I was pretty casual about it and cited the inspirations and what this means in the story.
This collides with the problem I have with marketing story concepts.
When I used Grammarly the first time a couple years ago and I transplanted a paragraph from a document I had explaining a mechanic from a game concept I had, Grammarly had edited it to be a bit more businesslike and ended it with this corny ass "Let's revolutionise gaming!"
And then there's one of the biggest things I hate about marketing my ideas: self-aggrandisement.
I... don't like self-aggrandising unless I'm making a joke. But if I had to put my notes about the aesthetic or animation into Grammarly or any other writing tool and it edited it to be more professional, it would change it to be so that it uses words like "masterfully utilises" or describing subjective opinions objectively.
While I do utilise words like... well, utilise, I never adverb it with things like "masterfully" or "expertly" to describe an animation technique or stylistic design because we haven't brought this to animation yet.
And don't even talk about pitch-decking, a studio won't know whether the animation techniques and cinematography compositions we employ, even though I consider them rather basic since they come from Pixar In A Box, are expert or master level... because they haven't been animated yet. Point withstanding, sit your asses back down, ladies and gentlemen.
And on subjective opinions being used objectively, when describing the Multicultural Solarpunk aesthetic of our world, I made sure to clarify the appeal of certain things like particular rich people having Barbie style Dreamhouses to add a touch of whimsy by clarifying that yes, it can look like a bit of a toy box but the world is designed to appeal to the idea of living in a house built perfectly to your own specifications and inner child.
An AI writing tool would just slap a phrase like "including beautifully designed Dreamhouses to liven up a world that rejects Millennial Grey and add a touch of quirkiness", which may be more concise but doesn't get my point across.
Four Glowing UFOs Stalked a Train in 1958! The Crew Shined a Flashlight and the UFOs Fled!
Step into the shadowy fringes of the unknown with My Dark Path as we revisit one of the most compelling multi-witness UFO cases of the 1950s: the Monon Railroad UFO Incident.
On October 3, 1958, five seasoned railroad crew members aboard southbound Monon freight train Number 91 encountered four strange glowing objects that paced their train for over an hour through rural Indiana. From the locomotive cab, engineer Harry Eckman, head brakeman Morris Ott, and fireman Cecil Bridge (a former Air Force bomber crewman) watched the lights maneuver in V-formation. In the caboose, conductor Ed Robinson and flagman Paul Sosby observed the same discs—described as glowing, disc-shaped objects about 40 feet in diameter—flying alongside, changing formations into a striking “M” shape, shifting colors from bright white to muddy yellow-orange, and reacting dramatically when illuminated by a powerful flashlight.
Host MF Thomas brings this detailed, radio-coordinated encounter to life with immersive narration, drawing from NICAP records, Frank Edwards’ investigations, and the crew’s own consistent testimonies. These experienced professionals—familiar with aircraft and night skies—reported objects that crossed tracks at low altitude, passed over the full length of the mile-long train, and hovered nearby even during a stop, before finally departing to the northeast. Why did they follow the train? What made them scatter from the light? And why has no conventional explanation (planes, balloons, or stars) ever fully accounted for their coordinated behavior, sequential lighting, and apparent reaction?
This episode blends eerie firsthand accounts, historical context from the height of the classic UFO era, Project Blue Book’s internal interest, and comparisons to other credible train sightings like Senator Richard B. Russell’s. Perfect for fans of unsolved enigmas, railroad UFOs, multi-witness cases, and the paranormal.
If I encountered an alien being, I'd probably ask several questions: 1) Are there other intelligent civilizations out there in the oceans and underground? 2) Who created us? 3) Can a person gain superpowers, telekinesis, telepathy, access to self-healing and healing of other beings? 4) Can I gain knowledge of all the world's languages? There are many other questions, but what would you ask?
I find it SO SAD that couples of the same gender STILL can't have biological kids of each other.
Because kids are the mix of the 2 people they love, admire and trust the most in the world, which is themselves and their partner. A proof, celebration and continuation of THEIR LOVE.
Once, I liked a guy who was so pretty but wasn't cis, and goddamn, his perfect genetics aren't gonna pass it on to anybody.
I typed this up for submission to a blog helping give men a voice in this matter.
Links at the end.
Jun 27, 2026
United States
First off, I have gone through an identity crisis and in the worst of times needing to vent online didn't want relatives or those who would run and tell to find what I was saying. For protests I've managed to attend and research I participated in, I typically give the name Jay Boyd.
As an African-American, because of feminism and welfare, my father was ultimately alienated from me so I was raised by a single black mother. He wasn't fully absent though and had a whole host of mental health issues of his own. Ironically it was he who first told me the truth about male genital mutilation in the summer of 2015 per the show Adam Ruins Everything. He doesn't know it but around the same time I learned I was raped at least once as a child and my so called mom did nothing about it. I cried for months and for the first time since 2009 wanted to commit suicide, but have suffered from depression my entire known life. I was born in 1986 so was 28 at the time. My dad apologized immediately but I quickly learned that it was most likely not his fault and regardless his maturity in accepting the information goes a long way.
I foolishly had not learned the reality of the collective slave mentality of the black community and the extent of child abuse, gaslighting etc. that goes on as a result. Entire books have been written about this so I can't even begin to cover that here. I tried to repair the relationship with my mom only to be told things like get over it, the doctor said you needed it, all men in the world are circumcised blah blah blah. In the worst of times it led to arguments, yelling and me fighting with every fiber in my being to not lose control and kill her in retaliation. Being equally stupid I tried to seek comfort from 3 other female relatives, indicative of the lifelong emasculation to put it simply.
1 just played it off so I never bothered with her again
2 My older sister among other things said it's not a big deal and "no amount of information will change her mind" - typical black woman, ignorant and proud
3 Another relative who refused to even watch an educational video, said I'm fixating, me not having my foreskin has nothing to do with me being a man, that I need to be focused on better income and good place to live, my concern is irrational, the proof of men worldwide being intact is "obscure and invalid info" and that my mental health issue related to this is self-imposed. I will not post the screenshot of the communication but am including a few comments from a social media post with some kind, supportive words from female intactivists who (shocker) are European.
There is a pattern here, that I had to learn the hard and brutal way, ultimately destroying my trust in black women and later virtually all black people. It's relevant because many things slave owners used to do to us, we now do to each other. Also, Europeans didn't start the enslavement of Africans but fought and died to end most of it. To the black woman it's always white man bad but never Islam.
There's no way I can even begin to briefly explain how much my life was destroyed before I even got to figure out who I am, nor the consequences of all the abuse I've endured. I do know I was suicidal since before the teen years, but largely suffered in silence, a practice which I sadly learned in my 30's was the best choice given the circumstances. Even so called mental health professionals refuse to take our MGM grief seriously.
My memory is fuzzy and I don't remember how old I was but it was before puberty. At some point I recalled an experience that might've been a MGM PTSD re-enactment. One day I started feeling serious lower abdominal area pains, and I remember screaming for what felt like hours but who really knows. Eventually, 911 was called and I was taken to a poison control center but either en route or shortly after arriving the pain stopped. I don't remember anything after that. If this pain did in fact go on for hours, considering it could've been an appendix burst, it's just more proof my family does not care about me.
Few know this but in terms of consensual sex I'm actually a virgin. I went through a period of sexual confusion up until around the age of 23 then after a brief period of hypersexual desires which I'm grateful I didn't act on knowing the root causes now I lost all desire before the age of 25. I’m 39 now and have settled on calling this trauma based asexuality. Today, even if I found myself comfortable with attempting to enter a romantic relationship, I don't have the confidence to be the father any potential children would deserve. I certainly wouldn't allow any to be born in this country.
The only thing that's kept me from ending my life from 2015 onward has been that I stumbled across the futurist movement first, which includes indefinite healthy human lifespans. Combined with the promise of time travel, it's the only hope I have to one day go back and save myself or at least counteract what I should've never had to endure.
Friday, July 20th, 2018 was the first time I attended a protest. It was with the Bloodstained Men in Wilmington, Delaware.
With so many things at play, by 2021 my mental health took a deep nose dive and I didn't have it in my to attend any more protests but in 2026 things finally began to improve and I made a surprise return, for the first time outside of my hometown metro area, at the Genital Integrity Awareness Week in Washington DC. I was only there for a day but it's a start.
I kept any obvious picture or video of me out of this, only because I regrettably still deal with relatives despite it being for good reasons and I want to minimize the risk of being confronted because the time to repair our relationship has long gone, with so far well controlled anger and rage being the only thing left so it's not a fear of conflict but rather to keep the monster they created in me at bay.
Me at one of three protests in 2018, the first year I participated in such events. This is Philadelphia. The other cities were Wilmington, DE and Newark, NJ.
The black community is an absolute joke and black women being sellouts for welfare is the #1 reason for this.
Because to black women, us men are slaves.
Black women displaying the same attitude and double standard they always have.
The blog
A collection of real stories, personal accounts, and statements from men and parents speaking out against circumcision. #MenDoComplain
The blog's creator on X
Tragedy is invisible, people turn away from it, they run from it if they can, & it's hard knowing you belong here, that your purpose lies am
An accompanying cloud folder I created, viewable by anyone with the link
His hands smooth my hair that he remembers last was red as the sunset of a prior summer, 85 degrees even in the shade of a burning intensity that was our closeness. The seasons passed and I never knew him in the winter, nor the spring, as I ached for a benign reminder of him. I wondered who he was all those miles away. I wondered if he wondered about me. But habits die harder than stars and his fingers wrap around my neck just how I like it as he tells me he loves me, he loves me so much he had to come back. I look enamored into his eyes that I’ve already memorized and ached for, and he holds my stare like he always did, always does, and a softness takes over the air, his face, my body.
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