Definitely Not An Arsonist

I can’t say that anything here is particularly interesting. Feel free to move along

[relativelyuninteresting]

I’m in a polyamorous relationship with communism & coffee

[relativelyuninteresting]

As with all polyamorous relationships, scheduling is a nightmare

[relativelyuninteresting]

WAFER ROLLS WITH HAZELNUT CHOCOLATE FILLING

[anarchopuppy]

"dont feed the trolls" is an even more important rule in an age where that troll is likely to be a chatbot trained on bad politics crawling tags specifically to waste ur time. do not engage

[thistooishomestuck]

this too is homestuck

[relativelyuninteresting]

Phone games for old phones with a t9 keyboard hit different. There’s one I used to play that I’ve been thinking about lately. I can’t remember what it was called and my ability to find it again is limited at best. Much was lost when the touchscreen arrived

[relativelyuninteresting]

It’s too hot. Three hot, even

[relativelyuninteresting]

You can’t sleep because it’s too hot. I can’t sleep because my AC unit is too loud. We are not the same.

[wordfather]

idk if this is an usamerican thing or not but it always blows my mind as a small european country resident that yall have many names and types of apples???? what do you mean its not just red yellow or green??? why is it so complicated??? who is granny smith????

[wordfather]

'whats your favorite apple' 'red' 'no i mean like what type' '??????' actual conversatiom i've had with a mutual from usa

[wordfather]

THIRTY TWO??????

[phillyphillyphilly]

Listen that doesn’t even account for all the weird shit local farmers are getting up to.

May I present the best apple:

[wordfather]

the world is so big and beautiful

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

My personal favorite

Absolutely lovely when refrigerated

[relativelyuninteresting]

A rule of thumb is that the more recently introduced, the sweeter the apple.

Apples are a weird fruit that taste completely different from generation to generation. This makes most apples quite bad. You can plant the seeds from a perfectly good apple and the new apples that the seeds produces can be icky and gross.

So when a nice tasting apple is found, you have to clone the original growing conditions, by grafting limbs from the original tree onto other apple trees. This means that it takes about twenty years for new apple varieties to appear.

[relativelyuninteresting]

That video of a guy setting fire to a warehouse is AI and you can’t tell me otherwise

[relativelyuninteresting]

I could probably sit really well for a leg tattoo

[aromanticduck]

No, I would not steal a car. However, if I had the ability to create a copy of someone's car that I could have for free while the other person retained their original car, I would definitely do that.

[relativelyuninteresting]

I would also steal a car

[relativelyuninteresting]

One day I will manage to make porridge without burning some to the bottom of the pan. Today is not that day

[seat-safety-switch]

You really don't want to misjudge the safety of a pressure vessel. If you've got compressed gases or anything that's likely to expand real fast in a very exciting way, make sure that you take precautions. Sure, nobody else will understand why you refuse to get within ten feet of a fire extinguisher, but you'll be the one explaining what happened to the first responders. At that point, you can tell them whatever you want, and they'll nod sagely at your intuition.

When I was a kid, I lived a few blocks away from a grain elevator. In case you're unfamiliar with the concept of a grain elevator, it's a machine that elevates grain. A train will roll up, containing your future Cheerios, and park underneath it. Through the magic of belts and shit, that grain is pulled up from the ground floor loading dock, lofted high into the air, and dumped from a nice storage pile into the train. A convenient and beautiful example of how automation revolutionized agriculture forever. Oh, and they also explode.

That's right, folks. A grain elevator – which looks like a weird-ass barn – is actually a pressure vessel. Or, at least it is when you misuse it. Thing's full of dust, from all that grain, and it doesn't take much to light it off, producing hot, rapidly expanding gases. As soon as that happens, the oddly chimney-shaped building becomes an oddly chimney-shaped chimney, and then you've got a big bang on your hands. It never happened to my neighbourhood, but one did explode in the next small town over. I used to sit up at night, staring at the grain elevator through my bedroom window, wondering when it, too, would explode.

If there is a lesson to take away from all this, it's that you don't want to misjudge the safety of a pressure vessel. In fact, from this example, we can easily tell that us humans have no idea which vessels are or may become pressurized at the drop of a hat. To solve this problem, I recommend never entering rooms where anyone is working or thinking about working. Stay at home, and stop setting your tank of welding gas on the stove "because the floor is full." You'll thank me later.

[relativelyuninteresting]

Porridge is quite good, actually

[seat-safety-switch]

Talking to dogs is great. This is mostly because dogs don't talk back. Sure, scientists have tried to make "dog interpreters" that tell us what the dog wants. You could also put a tape of someone saying the word "sausages" on endless loop and get the same effect. Honestly, that would probably work for a mind-reading device for just about anyone.

It's good that dogs don't talk back, because we tell them all of our secrets. Whenever you're feeling blue, or have a dilemma at work, or trouble in your love life, it's ol' Fido who comes and hears about it. They don't judge. They just love, and that's why we love them right back. Of course, dogs are going to hear a little bit too much sometimes. Confessions. Accidental admissions to crimes. Terrorism plots. And that's why the government is always trying to wiretap your wirehair.

Back in the day, it was very obvious when this was happening. Radio technology was immature, and so all the mobsters stopped talking when Fido McMurders came into the Italian restaurant dragging a marine-grade 12-volt lead-acid battery behind him and a parabolic dish on his collar. Nowadays, though, things are more subtle. Your first hint that a random too-friendly dog at the park is wired for sound? Could be when you get chucked in the back of a van by government jerkwads.

Gets worse, too. I have this lawyer friend, and he tells me that entrapment doesn't apply to dogs. Cops have dogs. They could set up some kind of elaborate triangulation ploy where you find a lost dog, nurse it back to health, adopt it, care for it, form a deep bond after years of intimate companionship, and then that dog lets the SWAT team in the back door after finding out you grow weed in your garage. Totally legal for the police to do, which seems kind of fucked up to me.

Still, I'm gonna keep petting dogs. It's just that what I say to them is going to be more guarded. I recommend you also lie to them.

[segamascott]

wise liberal voice: imperialism is bad but i think we should have a say in other countries' choice of leaders

[segamascott]

wise liberal voice: genocide is bad but that doesn't change the fact that a single ethnicity deserves their own country

[seat-safety-switch]

"You know, there's a reason Rudolph got rejected by the other reindeer," muttered my co-welder during this, our fourth hour of trying to patch this quarter panel. "Goddamn freak."

Before you get upset, you have to understand something about Tack-Weld Frank. He used to be a journalist in the before-times, before the robots came from the heavens and told us entertaining lies. Being a journalist is all about knowing the disgusting truth behind the headlines. Knowing, and not being able to tell because your boss says no. Now, we've all heard the song. We've heard Rudolph's side of things. Frank knew more. Dare I press, or simply keep him happy enough to get all the way through this tricky dog-leg?

Bravely, I decided I would risk our friendship. If he had dirt on one of Santa's most beloved reindeer, then that dirt should belong to everyone. Our society is undergoing a great upheaval now, re-litigating the battles of the past and seeing our past heroes in a new light. Why not Rudolph, too? It is owed to us now to leave behind the childish naïveté of believing this glowing cervidae saved Christmas at a crucial juncture.

"He's not even real," Frank spat, before spattering a long bead of nasty crap on my new rocker panel from shaking the torch in rage. "The other reindeer made his ass up, so they wouldn't take the blame for a bad night in the media." A scapedeer! Of course, I realized with a shock (possibly due to improper grounding.)

What to do with this new knowledge? I was just about to ask Frank another question when we heard a strange sound from outside. Almost... jangly...? I tried to look out of the garage, but the single window in the door had already frosted over as the night's chill set in. Only an eerie red glow could be made out, small at first, and then growing. Everyone in that shop knew just what was coming. Frank was going to be asked to write a retraction any second now.

[guerrillatech]