Y’all! The Em Dash has finally delivered a public statement regarding the AI allegations.
And it’s glorious!
Read the full article on the McSweeney’s website here!

⁂

Kiana Khansmith
Xuebing Du

titsay
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

★
cherry valley forever

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
occasionally subtle

#extradirty
No title available

Janaina Medeiros
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

Love Begins
ojovivo
hello vonnie
Peter Solarz

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Iraq

seen from United States
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seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

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@andurarue
Y’all! The Em Dash has finally delivered a public statement regarding the AI allegations.
And it’s glorious!
Read the full article on the McSweeney’s website here!
if i met a genie and fixed the world and all its ills with my first two wishes, my third wish would be that sabrina carpenter would get gradually taller. she'd be in on it and think it was hilarious. we'd have a strong cap at 7 feet here, maybe an inch a week so people have time to theorize--let's not be ridiculous. but she'd still keep up the "ooh! im so little and small!" schtick. but shed be gradually getting taller. she'd be like 6'1" and still jumping for the microphone. and she'd never say anything about it. and if anyone asked shed act like she had no idea what they were talking about. and shed cheekily play into it a little bit but mostly still keep up the "ooh im so little and small" schtick. do you see my vision. do you get it
ok and so if i met a genie and fixed the world and all its ills in one wish i would do the sabrina carpenter thing second and third i would wish for all evidence of one random taylor swift song to disappear from the world once every month or so. taylor would have no memory of it. her fans would remember it and there would be an outcry over where it went (it's not even in concert videos anymore!) but taylor would have no memory of it
instead, all her brainspace spent on that song would be replaced with the vivid memories of roman gladiator, taylaurius velox. she's able to hide this at first, but her music begins to take on a gradually romaner and romaner tint. at first, people are like "damn, she's getting REALLY conservative, huh" and other people are like "wow, she's so deep, she knows what a rubicon is" but eventually travis kelce leaves her out of nowhere (he wasn't sure if dating someone possessed by a roman gladiator made him gay or not and anyway he was getting sick of being like "we're going to play the lions" and taylor being like "LIONS? WHERE?") and taylor publishes an entire brutus themed album about this betrayal and it's beginning to weird people out
and so eventually travis kelce is getting like, bomb threats sent to his family for leaving taylor and eventually he's like "okay, okay, i left her because she kept having all these vivid nightmares of gladatorial combat and she kept saying that football was giving her the ick because we never actually killed anybody for the glory of rome" and then he just gets more bomb threats because he left a struggling woman during a mental health crisis
and eventually taylor is writing music about her forbidden roman senator lover and her fanbase is either whittled WAY down or WAY up because people want to watch this trainwreck happen (or maybe she influences culture so hard that we're just all really into rome now) but she's being super cagey about the name of this roman senator. until. and now here's the twist:
weird al has been getting all of the same vivid memories of taylaurius velox. and he still has all his memories of her old songs. so he's writing all these detailed song parodies of taylor swift songs that don't exist anymore including specific details about their shared gladiatorial reality that taylor has never shared with anybody else. including that her lover's name was publius, and she's been calling him Poob for short
at this point a lot of original swifties are leaving. they could do the brutus stuff, but they really can't survive poob. taylor makes a clapping back at the haters song including the lyric "these bitches don't know publius" and it ends up all over all sorts of merch. there's a renewed archaeological interest in roman gladatorial combat
most importantly, the internet discourse is the best it's ever been. does this make taylor swift transmasc? is travis kelce problematic for leaving his fiancee while she gradually morphs into a roman gladiator? is this good queer representation? if taylaurius velox was a gay man, does that mean the gaylors were technically correct? is weird al morally wrong for capitalizing off of her music if she cant remember it anymore? was weird al sent by god to torment taylor swift?
anyway thats what id do if i met a genie
Value Pack
manifesting a law vivi sabo team up (delusional) (crazy)
I am asking you to endure it.
a lot of Gregory Berrycones in the notes missing the reference to my twelve note magnum opus from several hours prior in which the narrator silently begs an entity that isn't really God for death and the entity says no
the narrator is operating under the constraint that they can only use words "god" has already spoken, "god" is aware of this and says the 'Time flies' sentence on purpose in order to give the narrator the pieces they need to voice their complaint; "god" has constant access to the narrator's thoughts, and answers them as though they're having a conversation between equals, but clearly absolutely dictates the terms under which the narrator can speak. it becomes obvious as the scene continues that the narrator is silently screaming and that the request being denied may be a request for death, but is at minimum a request for some acute suffering to be stopped
this could be an interaction between a normal person and an evil telepath with some mind control ability pretending to be the voice of a benevolent god. or it could work as a demon lord speaking to a soul they've trapped in a mirror and keep at their side. or it could be an actual god trying to calm down their only believer because they're trapped in the same prison. the concept amused me so kindly forgive the ugliness of the execution
Posts that altered the fabric of the universe
"Ad blockers violate YouTube's Terms of Service. It looks like you may be using an ad blocker. Video playback is blocked unless YouTube is allowlisted or the ad blocker is disabled. Ads allow YouTube to be used by billions worldwide.You can go ad-free with YouTube Premium, and creators can still get paid from your subscription."
"ad blockers violate youtube's terms of service. it looks like you may be using an ad blocker. video playback is blocked unless youtube is allowlisted or the ad blocker is disabled. ads allow youtube to be used by billions worldwide. you can go ad-free with youtube premium, and creators can still get paid from your subscription."
->
"well do a headstand and gargle my ample balls. it almost looks like you value free use of your time or something. aww. you sweet predictable bluebird. you absolute skibidi dick-boss. buddy you were created by lord revenue to boost our stocks, so listen to five insurance ads back to back or i’ll publicly boil your bicuspids in acid"
String identified: "a c at t' t c. t a g a a c. aac c t at t a c a. a a t t . ca g a- t t , a cat ca t gt a ct." -> " a ata a gag a a. t at a t tg. a. t cta . at c-. cat t t tc, t t ac a ac t ac ’ c c ac"
Closest match: Lepadogaster candolii genome assembly, chromosome: 9 Common name: Connemarra Clingfish
(image source)
Absolute cinema, no comments
Sleepless in Hateno
i take back everything i said, one piece is good actually
It’s always been good, because the entire world and story of one piece is designed based on one single design principle: what is the funniest option?
No gag manga has ever gagged harder or longer than one piece. Oda started with a main character that was basically Goku crossed with Bugs Bunny and given Mister Fantastic’s superpower and then drew 1200 chapters of slapstick about him (and once an arc one of the funny haha joke side characters is revealed to have the saddest backstory you’ve ever heard and now Luffy has to punch somebody about it).
keeping @clearancecreedwatersurvival’s tags because these gags are extremely funny but also so normalized and subtle. like huh. that guy really does live in a yellow submarine doesn’t he
Yes, this is worth the 1000+ chapters
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about some of the people I interact with. I have a coworker who I am pretty sure is a MAGA type, and she is also a lovely woman who is dreadfully overworked and so good at connecting to patients when they call. I can see the conflict on her face when she talks to me, a gigantic tranny dork who speaks Spanish and affirms the LGBT community, but can also talk to her about her cows and knows about guns and stuff. I can see the fear in the eyes of my former Young Men’s leader when he misgenders me and realizes that I’m not an ideology but a person he has known for a long time. I can see the way my extended family stop and stutter over political discussions when they realize they are talking about me. And I don’t know why but lately it’s just made me think about my neighbor as a kid.
When we moved to Arizona, we moved next door to a lovely retired couple - John and Lucy. John was a veteran of WWII, he had an M.D. and a Ph.D. in radiology, and he LOVED us to pieces. His wife, Lucy, was a sharp and gifted woman - well spoken, very observant, and VERY clever. I just know that she used that cleverness as a mom to great effect, because with my and my siblings she always managed to find a way to send us home with candy and treats for a week despite my dad’s protests. We loved them, growing up, and even though they have long-since passed away I love them still, and I love what I learned from them.
John was, as stated, a WWII veteran. He was enlisted as a rifleman, and later as a front line medic, starting at Point Du Hoc and moving inwards to France and towards the Rhine. He let me do a report on him in 6th grade where he shared war stories with me he had kept to himself his whole life - he said it was out of respect for his friends who didn’t get to come home and tell their stories.
He said he told me because he knew I could respect the memories of his friends.
He showed me his collection of medals, and which he’d kept hidden away in a sock in his attic because he’d feel an immense grief any time he saw them. He had wanted to be a doctor his whole life, prior to being drafted he was studying medicine and had taken the Hippocratic oath to Do No Harm. He saw his medals as a reminder that he had Done Harm.
After telling me his stories he was able to convince himself that while he had Done Harm, it was only because his only other alternative was, to him, cowardice. He chose to be brave even if it meant acting against his Oath because he felt that if he didn’t do it someone else would have to go in his place and he would be responsible for the harm that befell them. I don’t think that’s true, but for him it was and that was something no being on earth could have ever dissuaded him from believing.
He shared wild stories - melee combat on the beach, clearing artillery bunkers, receiving a Purple Heart for being injured in hand-to-hand combat with a Wehrmacht rifleman he said he felt pity for because they were the same age and he had to imagine the man he was fighting had been drafted just like him.
He shared how he was awarded a Silver Star for charging a machine gun nest, but shared that he was most proud of not killing anyone in the process. He threw a grenade with the pin still in it and when the machine gunners jumped to avoid being blown up they were killed by someone else so he didn’t have to do it. He took the machine gun and shot the other machine gun in that French field to pieces so he didn’t have to kill the people operating it. He said they were giving out Silver Stars like candy but I knew he was being modest.
He told me about being redesignated as a medic, about how he crawled for about 500 yards on his belly to rescue an injured tank driver, then threw him over his back and crawled the same 500 yards back (1000 yards total) to treat his injuries. He said he met the man in an Army hospital in England after his spine was broken by a high explosive panzer shell was fired through a hollowed out French farmhouse and landed about 20 feet away from him.
He told me about all the people he helped and saved as a medic, he told me about his work in radiology and research after the war. He showed me a hallway that was quite literally wallpapered with academic honors he’d earned as a researcher. He told me about how his first Fourth of July back was a horror show for him because fireworks and German artillery make very similar sounds. He told me about how he woke up in a cold sweat well over half a century later hearing the screams of German artillery men being burned alive with flamethrowers, or hearing his own voice apologizing to the young German soldier he stabbed in the heart at Point Du Hoc.
He told me that when he was asked to present at a medical conference in Germany 25 years after the war ended that he was so scared he couldn’t step off the plane, and that his wife had to hold his hand and lead/pull him with her. He said he was not scared because he was worried about being triggered, but because he knew that someone somewhere outside of that plane had the course of their life irreparably altered by his military service. That to someone out there he was the cause of immense suffering and harm. That some unwitting waiter could be the son of the Nazi Officer he stabbed in the heart with a 12-inch hunting knife. That some woman asking questions in the audience would be the daughter or widow of a man he sent to judgement with a .30-06. He was scared that they would hate him.
He knew what the Nazi’s had done, he knew better than anyone I’d ever met. He’d watched the documentaries, he’s seen the PoWs returning from camps, he’d seen the civilians massacred and tortured by their regime, but he also knew that among the monsters were people like him - idealistic 20-somethings who only wanted to make the world better and were ripped away from that life by the Nazi war machine. And he spent his whole life mourning the loss of innocence and peace that was forced on so many people by such a corrupt power.
To be honest I don’t know if I could do that, but he could. He told me he could still feel the dead and lost with him, both when he slept and when he woke. He told me he thought he’d go to his grave never having told a word of this to anyone. That the stories of him and his friends and allies would disappear silently with him and those like him. That he had wanted that until he realized that he didn’t have to sell out to share the stories - that he could give the stories away for free to someone who would love the people in them, and not just the content of them. He didn’t want his stories to be used as Patriotic Pornography by some TV network or magazine. He wanted the people he knew to be respected, he wanted their memories to be honored and loved, and he entrusted me, a 12-year-old “boy” to do that.
He told me for years afterwards that after telling me these stories that he slept better than he ever had. That by sharing the stories with someone who could hear Him over the din of victory and glory and honor and revisionistic history. Someone who could see the man in the story and not just see the plot of a battle being won. He wanted to be human, and he wanted the people he saw die to be human too - everyone, not just the people on his side. He wanted someone to see and to know the anguish of having to look someone in the eye as heartblood muddies the ground beneath them and hope that they understand that this was not an act of love or hatred but an act of desperation. To hope that you had just taken out One Of The Bad Ones instead of a medical student or a poet who had been drafted. He wanted me to see how hard he had worked since then to build a world without scarcity, to build a world of peace. He wanted me to know SO badly that the cost of violence, any violence, even necessary violence, is always ALWAYS paid by both parties involved.
I think about the rise of the new right wing - the new Nazi movement’s traction in politics, and I feel sad and scared - the world that Johnathan J Yobaggy, my neighbor, my friend, and my hero, worked SO hard to build is being done away with by people who do not understand the cost of the path they are entering. I can see brief moments of recognition in the eyes of some of the people I mentioned - The former young men’s president who immediately regrets misgendering me and hen he makes eye contact with me and sees Me staring back at him and not a faceless “ideology.” I can hear it in the voice of my uncle who quietly comes up to me to apologize for some homophobic comment he made absentmindedly. I can see it in the eyes of racists and sexists being interviewed on TV when they realize that they didn’t vote for a concept, they voted for a real thing. And honestly, I have mixed emotions about it. Because while I understand frustration with the status quo, the importance of basic human needs like affordable good and rent, and I know the fear that comes with feeling powerless, I also can’t help but grieve the endless wheel of history bringing us back to this God Damned Fucking Place again. I hope we can avoid this fate, not just for our sake but for the sake of everyone who has ever tried to make the world safer. For everyone who has ever tried to make up for human nature, for everyone who has ever placed themselves on the offering plate to protect others from the cruelty they know lies just under the surface of mankind’s tenuous grip on progress. I want SO badly for there to be a solution to this, for the people who idolize the Nazi party and the impact of fascism to see that the price of this path is paid in more than just blood but in soul. That they’re allowing themselves to be devoured too. I want for the centrists and the fence sitters and the idealists who want to “change it from the inside” to see how dangerous our politics have become. I want them to see that they’re losing the things that make them great in exchange for a security blanket that’s now become far far far too small to ever work for them again.
Safety found in the past is already gone, and safety found in the future is only as real as a daydream. That any ideology that promises that by “joining us now we’ll make things rough so we can make things safe in a decade” is a promise made by those who will not have to fight the battles they send you to.
I don’t know if America was ever really great, but as long as John was alive it felt great to me. There is no ideology that can replace a neighbor. No tax plan that can replace a friend. No grocery bill that can replace community and connection. No amount of budget cuts that can replace kindness. No amount of suffering from people I hate that will ever make more love. I don’t know how to make America great, but I know how to make my America great and it is not by selling out integrity and compassion and community and fucking humanity to make eggs and gas cheaper. It is by seeing and hearing the people around me. I’m not Mormon anymore, but I still know the value of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort. I’m not Christian anymore but I still have Eyes That Can See and Ears That Can Hear. I want to make this all stop but I can’t stop the collective power of tens of millions of people so instead I listen to my MAGA coworker tell me about how sick her kid was last week. I make jokes with my Young Men’s leader. I hug my uncle. I let them see me fully, as a human and not an ideology. As a woman and not the concept of gender. As a whole person and not someone who can be easily summarized or boiled down into something short and quippy. And I let them know I can see them fully too, and I can see all their humanity as easily as they can see mine. I just have to hope that this works - that enough people can See and Hear the people in their lives who matter to them to bring them out of their personal world of forms and into the real world.
I am probably, honestly, just spiraling a little bit. I took my ADHD meds today and in addition to helping me focus they make me a little anxious so I doubt things are as bad right now as they seem. But just in case there’s any truth to the way things seem to be going, remember, and I mean this seriously: Be kinder to each other, be gayer, and read more Terry Pratchett.
And for the love of god day hello to your neighbor.
This is it. This is The Post.
talking to animals as wolf link was my favorite thing to do when i was like 7
petition to rename the usa ‘south canada’
what about alaska
are we then normal canada
canada a bit to the left
What about South America? Is that just America? Or South South Canada?
i cried my ass of laughing
WARM CANADA
i caN’T BREATHE OH MY GOD
I’m not even from Canada but I approve this change of names
World Heritage Post
Open your eyes…
I think it’s really interesting how so many Zelda games start with Link waking up. It’s especially noticeable in botw and totk because Link essentially wakes up in an ancient temple after being injured and some time has passed and now Zelda is gone again. I wonder how he felt in totk waking up like that again. Do you think for a moment, he was afraid another 100 years had passed?
Ow? My feelings??
poem ~the cartographer tries to map a way to zion by kei miller 📜🗝️🪑💫
I love her
Au fucking revoir Mister Prince
careers in science & academia are so Cassandra-coded. you possess a Great and Burdensome Knowledge (at heavy cost*), which is both its own reward and its own punishment. and no one fucking listens to you
*student loans
DO FROGS LIKE EACH OTHER?
Hamilton’s frog (Leiopelma hamiltoni), family Leiopelmatidae, found on small islands off the north coast of the South Island of New Zealand
ENDANGERED.
Hidden among damp leaf litter, rocks and tree roots, the nocturnal Hamilton’s frog leads a surprising social life. During the day, the frogs retreat to damp, cosy crevices—often accompanied by a flatmate. These flatmates aren’t chosen at random—some frogs preferentially hang out with specific frogs, and avoid others they don’t like. In other words, frogs have friends...
Read more: Do frogs like each other? | New Zealand Geographic
photograph by Phil Bishop
I need you to know that (context is recent ask) I saw the words 'baba' and 'idol' together and am now imagining Hatsune Baba. You're welcome :)
WORLD IS MINE