*Insert sound of Midnight cackling in the background*
When I thought about BNHA action figures, the logistics of Mic’s hair was the first thought that struck me. Then I went straight away and drew this, even if it is stupid.
I was raised agnostic and tend to remain ambiguous on theological matters.
-but my house has a porch on the second story that affords me a terrific view of my neighborhood and the Colorado Front Range and I was partaking of some peace before the 4th Of July Finger-Loss Festivities begin, and I have had a
~*Spiritual Experience*~
I just watched my neighbor try to unload an actual wooden pallet that had to have been forklifted into the back of his insecurity pickup worth of fireworks.
Except that he does not have a forklift in his garage.
He does have so much sports memorabilia and cardboard boxes of unsold MLM Merchandise and patriotically themed camping gear and posters of women in bikinis and flags of suspect political organizations in his garage that there is only
BARELY
enough space for the fireworks
and certainly none for his truck.
So he had to unload the individual boxes of recreational explosives from the back of his truck and stack them in the minimal space he had cleared by hand.
This is a tedious and time-consuming process as this neighbor has purchased a wide variety of recreational and locally illegal explosives instead of many of just a few types, so the individual boxes are rather small.
He begins,
and this is crucial to what happens next,
by cutting apart the industrial-grade saran wrap his explosives dealer had so carefully wrapped his merchandise in, and discarded it
unsecured
on his lawn.
Where Outdoor Conditions sometimes happen.
His process for unloading the fireworks is to
1. Climb up through the gate into the bed of his pickup truck (a feat made unusually difficult due to the slope of his driveway, and this man's fascinating decision to wear the world's Siffest and least Flexible Denim Overalls.
2. Once in the pickup bed, he selects ONE (1) box from the pile
He is apparently from a niche religious institution that doesn't believe in stacking things.
3. Carries it awkwardly around the palette that barely fits in the truck bed
4. His wife yells "Be careful!" when he nearly falls out of the pickup.
5. He Yells "SHADDUP!" back at her.
6. The Large German Shepherd barks from inside the house.
7. He yells "SHADDUP!" back at her too.
8. He sets the (1) box down on the gate
9. Slowly and awkwardly climbs out of the pickup bed
10. picks the box back up, and carries it into the garage.
Question: Aren't you going to help this poor man?
Answer: Absolutely Not.
There's four military veterans, MANY dogs, and several people with dementia in this neighborhood, all of whom are terrified by this chicanery every year and many neighbors have repeatedly asked him to maybe do the fireworks somewhere else.
(This is the Eighth Year Running he's held a major demolition event in his driveway, and for those of you who can do math, you may be able to guess the precipitating incident to this little ritual)
Additionally, I live in Colorado, a state marginally less prone to spontaneous and catastrophic conflagrations than a rotting grain silo, but only marginally.
Our recreational explosives laws are written accordingly.
I am in fact calling the Non Emergency line to report Fireworks violations, and reading off the brand labels to someone named Dorothy, who is gleefully totaling up a SPECTACULAR fine for my oblivious neighbor.
However, while I'm on the phone with Dorothy, I notice the wind begin to pick up.
and by "Notice" I mean "The Industrial Saran Wrap he left on his Lawn earlier is suddenly swept up about 100 feet into the air by an updraft intense enough to make my ears pop"
And by "Pick Up" I mean "I look up to see the sky has turned a fun and exciting shade of glass green, and the bottoms of the clouds are bumpy and rounded, and the overall effect is not unlike looking up through the bottom of the cup at God's Matcha Boba Tea."
For those of you who do not live in places with Inclement Weather, these conditions mean "You have about 30 seconds before a Major Meteorological Event Occurs."
I move under the eaves.
"Hang on Dorothy." I say, nose filling with Petrichor. "The show is about to be cancelled."
"Oh, that doesn't matter!" Dorothy cheerfully informs me. "It's illegal for him just to possess those, no matter if he actually gets to set them off or not."
"Terrific, because he's gotten maybe five boxes out of a hundred inside."
Sometimes,
the weather gods are Merciful and give you a verbal warning, typically in the kind of thunderclap that makes your ears ring.
The Gods were not merciful today.
It's not often that I am in the time, place, correct angle or in a properly observational frame of mind to see this,
But I got to see it today.
Huh. I thought. I've never seen a cloud just DIVE for the ground before.
Oh. I realized as it got closer.
That's RAIN.
Sometimes, a thunderstorm will form in such a way that the rain that would normally be distributed over an area of say,
five to tent square miles,
is instead concentrated into an area of say,
my neighborhood exactly.
So today, I was granted the rare privilege of being able to actually see the literal wall of water descend from On High and DIRECTLY onto my porch, my street, and my neighbor's truck, and his pile of unwrapped fireworks.
The sheer impact force of the downpour immediately scatters the teetering pile of fireworks boxes in the back of the truck, like the wrath of God striking down the tower of Babel.
Boxes tumble, then are washed out of the bed of the truck by the deluge.
Smaller Boxes are carried down the road in a little line by the stream forming in the gutter, like little impotent explosive ducklings.
My neighbor was definitely yelling something, but I could not hear what over the DEAFENING noise several million gallons of water makes upon high-speed contact with the earth's surface, but there was a lot of arm-waving and faces turning red as he went looking for the saran wrap that had probably blown to Nebraska by now, while his wife started disassembling the complex three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking material goods in search of a tarp.
They do not have a tarp.
They have one of those wretched Thin Blue Line flags though, and my neighbor jogs out in a futile effort to cover what's left in the truck.
Which is when the hail begins.
"HELLO?" Yelled Dorothy.
"HI!" I shouted. "WE'RE HAVING SOME WEATHER!"
"OH GOOD!" she shouts back. "WE NEED THE MOISTURE!"
I watch for a minute longer, but the loss was immediate and catastrophic- the hail is the size of marbles and dense and cares not for your pitiful cardboard and cellophane, ripping the boxes asunder and punching holes in the few things covered in plastic.
The colors on the Thin Blue Line Flag are seeping all over the remains of that it was supposed to protect in a particularly apt visual metaphor.
Not even the few boxes that made it into the garage are spared, as the German Shepherd escapes from indoors, and in an attempt to assist her humans, jumps directly into the small stack of not-yet-ruined boxes, scattering them into the driveway and deluge. She even picks one up so her humans will chase her around the yard, before dropping it in the gutter to be swept away.
So.
I was raised Agnostic
-but even I can recognize when God slaps someone upside the head and shouts "NO!" at them.
---
(If you laughed, please consider supporting my Ko-fi or preordering my book of Strange Stories on Patreon)
fave kind of entertainment: that when some fetish artists try to draw casual non-fetish stuff but you can still see really clearly what fetish stuff they usually draw. like
what did the founding fathers think about banging MILFs
We actually know the answer to this!!! VERY positively.
In 1745, Benjamin Franklin wrote an advice letter to an unnamed younger man which is titled "Advice to a Young Man on the Choice of a Mistress". He begins his letter by telling his correspondent that the best way of dealing with sexual urges is to get married. However, Franklin acknowledges that extramarital sex happens (and he himself would know all about that, he had tons of it before his marriage, during his marriage, and after his wife had died). Therefore, he offers his correspondent some wisdom on choosing the right mistress.
"In all your Amours you should prefer old Women to young ones," Franklin said, and then proceeded to spell out eight reasons why an older mistress was the best decision to make.
The first reason was the chat would be better: "Because as they have more Knowledge of the World and their Minds are better stor'd with Observations, their Conversation is more improving and more lastingly agreeable."
Secondly, "Because when Women cease to be handsome, they study to be good." He adds that older women will look after you when you're sick, and there is "hardly such a thing to be found as an old Woman who is not a good Woman."
The third reason was that "there is no hazard of Children, which irregularly produc'd may be attended with much Inconvenience." Franklin adopted a pragmatic approach on unwanted pregnancy, and in 1758 published instructions for inducing abortion - more about that here.
Franklin rated the wisdom that comes with age in his fourth reason, saying that older women were more discreet in their affairs, which would protect both parties' reputations. And if the affair was rumbled, "considerate People might be rather inclin'd to excuse an old Woman".
The fifth reason is perhaps most pertinent to you, dearest followers of a museum of vaginas. Benjamin Franklin's fifth reason is that a vagina is a vagina, no matter the age of the woman it's attached to. Or as he put it:
"Because in every Animal that walks upright, the Deficiency of the Fluids that fill the Muscles appears first in the highest Part: The Face first grows lank and wrinkled; then the Neck; then the Breast and Arms; the lower Parts continuing to the last as plump as ever. So that covering all above with a Basket, and regarding only what is below the Girdle, it is impossible of two Women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all Cats are grey, the Pleasure of corporal Enjoyment with an old Woman is at least equal and frequently superior, every Knack being by Practice capable of Improvement."
The sex, according to Franklin, with a milf, is usually better.
The sixth reason Franklin offered was that "debauching a virgin" would be more likely to ruin a life than an affair with an older woman, and the seventh, related, was that you might feel guilty about that, while with an older woman you're just "making an old Woman happy."
Franklin concludes his list of reasons to bang a milf with "8thly and Lastly They are so grateful!!" (punctuation, including the exclamation marks, his).
When Franklin's papers were published in the nineteenth century, this letter was, for some reason, omitted. Along with some other pieces of Franklin's writing such as a joyous essay about farting and bits of his autobiography about his sex life. The hornier elements of Benjamin Franklin's writing were censored in law under the 1873 anti-obscenity Comstock laws, and later frequently cited in attempts to overturn obscenity laws.
We are pleased to be able to share, without fear of breaking US law, what Benjamin Franklin thought about shagging older women.
make my hospital quilts out of Norton Antivirus ads and engrave Starbucks on the nanobots in my bloodstream, as a disabled American I just want to be alive.
Someone tell the VPN companies to start a hospital.
There's a house on my way home that has one of those Home Depot 12 ft. skeletons and they haven't taken it down since Halloween, just dressed it up in holiday-appropriate wear and of course for June it's all about Pride so please allow your dash to be blessed by 12 ft. Pride Skeleton
have y’all ever had communion bread that was just so….nasty? like i know we have to suffer as christians, but do we really need to have whole wheat bread as the body of christ?
Some old housemates of mine were Syrian Orthodox. At their church different members of the church took turns baking the bread that would be consecrated for the Eucharist. This was all well and good until one woman baked raisin bread. This led to the memorable occasion of a rather flustered priest, who had not seen the bread until that moment, declaring, “This - except for the raisins - is the Body of Christ.”
The breadsticks thing to me is hilarious
I think it must be another Europe/America thing bc my whole life ‘breadsticks’ have been these hard crunchy thin stick things you buy them at the supermarket and it says breadsticks on the box
Never in my life has anyone around me referred to an actual stick of bread as a breadstick lmao
But then we don’t have Olive Garden either
I… did wonder why there would be such a focus on going to somewhere with unlimited dry wheat twigs. Googling ‘olive garden breadsticks’ does seem to suggest a tastier thing.
OH the joke is funnier than previously thought because those are bigger and therefore it would be harder and more socially awkward to shove them into your purse! Lol
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theartofmadeline
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2087
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