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And now I am fucking crying at work.
For the unaware, Dr Rabinowitz was an incredibly important figure for many in the local LGBT community because of his willingness to treat patients with AIDS when most doctors were still too scared to.
The Turkey Story
So it’s 2001, and my family drives from fucking California and like three blizzards to get to Ohio for thanksgiving, becuase my grandparents are moving into a nursing home and it’s their last holiday in that house. So its a bit bittersweet but ultimately a good thing.
Since it’s their last holiday there, the family pulls out all the stops when it comes to dinner, all the Russian desserts come out, as does the Lethal Bacon Mashed Potatoes and the horrible candied yams with the mini marshmallows dish because not all expressions of love are good, even if they are sincere. In the spirit of going all-out, Uncle Bobby smokes a Turkey.
Uncle Bobby started cooking as a boy scout by tossing foil-wrapped potatoes into a campfire and has been addicted since, and now has a hand-made smokehouse in the backyard where he makes various cured meats and other delights. He seasons the turkey in the traditional manner, but he and grandpa have a shared passion for a spicier mesquite-style bird, so Bobby makes a Cornish Game Hen seasoned that way, for them.
Then Bobby has a Brilliant Idea. He realizes that he can stuff the turkey (once it has been smoked) with regular stuffing, and there is still plenty of room for him to put the game hen inside THAT, and stuff the game hen becuase why not? He confers with Mom, and she explains how to cut open the turkey so there’s dramatic reveal as the stuffing and game hen come out. It’s Genius.
Except, of course, that my Aunt Sue is attending, Uncle Cliff slouching after her.
So the day of the dinner, tensions are running a bit high, between the marathon cooking, the kids all being trapped indoors due to aforementioned blizzards, and Uncle Cliff deciding that the best way to amuse himself is by hiding from the adults in the basement, getting drunk and rambling about how various ethic groups were destroying America. Being that I had close Muslim friends that were leaving the country becuase of 9/11, I was near tears from this nonsense and ready to fight a man roughly five times my size.
Sue, for some reason, keeps coming down and defending him, or telling us we’re rotten children for ‘attacking’ him, becuase she Must Stand By Her Man, even if her man is a hefty bag of dog feces with an ugly mustache.
My sister eventually bolts upstairs to tattle and my grandfather limps down to the basement and brandishes his Hip-Bone Cane, hands rock-steady in spite of the Parkinson’s slowly taking over him.
“Firstly Cliff, It may not be my roof much longer but while you are under it you will be civil, or I’ll beat your skull in. Also, dinner’s ready, everyone go wash up.”
We go upstairs and sit down, and do the traditional “Name one thing you’re thankful for” as the bread gets passed around the table, and things calm down a bit. Bobby brings out the Turkey and everyone goes OOH becuase it’s really pretty, them Mom carves it open so that the stuffing spills out dramatically along with the game hen and there’s an appreciative gasp all around becuase it looks cool.
Only Sue KEEPS gasping, in utter horror, before getting up and clasping her hands to her face ala Edvard Munch and shrieks-
“OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT!”
We all stare at Sue. We all look back at the fully-dressed-cooked-and-stuffed birds that in no way had any internal organs in them or ever gave live birth. Then we all looked back at Sue, trying to figure out where to begin but since she’d been trying to justify Cliff’s behavior she was pretty much free-associating conspiracies and scandals now, and just kept going.
“IT WAS PREGNANT MY GOD WE’VE COMMITTED AN ABORTION WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL FOR THIS, I’M SO SORRY JESUS-” She goes into full pearl-clutching gibbering horror at this point and falls back into her chair like it’s a Victorian fainting couch only it’s a shitty chair from the Eisenhower administration so it collapses and she slams into the floor, sobbing and kicking her feet like a toddler.
Everyone watched for a moment before my Mom sighs heavily and starts carving and serving the turkey while my grandmother mouths “she’s not coming back”.
Cliff, reactions delayed by about six beers, finally notices his wife is on the floor and tries to pick her up, falls on his ass himself. They are assisted by Dad, who is saintly patient man and less immune to this jacknapery at that point. I am stuffing dinner rolls into my face to keep from laughing at this grand spectacle and it’s not working.
“I CAN’T EAT IT, I REFUSE TO PARTAKE IN THIS BARBARISM-” Sue begins but Dad puts on his best Kindly Father voice (he was heavily involved with the catholic church and even considered becoming a priest before getting drafted but that’s another story) and assures Sue that she need not eat, or even be in the room if she wants. She nods, placated by being the center of attention again, and Dad goes in for the kill.
“I wouldn’t want you to go hungry. Can I make you some Eggs?”
“That would be lovely.” Said Sue, joke flying over her head like a boeing 747. I recall watching my grandmother nearly choke to death on the green beans over that, and everyone pointedly trying to avoid talking about anything poultry-related while Sue sat there and ate the most ironic scrambled eggs in the history of mankind.
Shortly thereafter, Cliff threw up in the sink and they went home, and the party got underway properly, with Grandpa raising a toast to Mom and Uncle Bobby “For marrying well, for a change” “Pregnant Turkey” has been an Ohioan thanksgiving staple since then. I’ll see if I can hit Uncle Bobby up for instructions but if you decide to make it 1. you HAVE to shriek “OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT” when you carve it open, or it’s not authentic and won’t taste as good 2. Share the pictures with me.
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Traditional Georgian dancing.
date a man who
i cannot even imagine how fit these people are they could kick my ass they could kick muhammad ali’s ass
Let me show you the Aggression of my people… through dance.
If your dance doesn’t require knee pads and posing en pointe it isn’t worth doing.
@dadvans I feel like you can do Things with this
So the last time I reblogged this, someone reblogged from me with a comment along the lines of “wait till you see them with swords”. So I went to search it up, and… guys. GUYS.
There are actual sparks flying holy shit =O
this went big about halfway through holy shit
how are their knees still functioning??
They protect them with some black things and it’s a matter of practice.
And this is so funny that some people thought swords were fake, lol, no, they’re real and the best thing about this is not epicness, it’s how much they trust each other!
hoLY ShiT
police don’t have the most dangerous job or even near it. cops beat their wives and girlfriends at double the rate of the national average. cops killed over 1000 people this year alone and thats not even counting the “mysterious accidents” where say a black man magically shoots himself in the head while his arms were handcuffed behind his back. theres been so many police misconduct cases where officers violently harmed people that they’re being pressed to get their own liability insurance because the state doesnt want to pay for it. and despite all of this proof that cops are violent, violence against officers has been at an all time low. 8) but sure cops are innocent cinnamon rolls that just wanna protect people.
Taxi drivers get weapons pulled on them more often than cops, but I don’t see taxi drivers shooting people all the time because they were afraid someone had a weapon.
If cops are as afraid as they claim to be in these court cases, they should be looking for another job…not prowling the streets with a loaded gun.
If you’re afraid of heights, don’t take a job as a window washer. If you’re afraid of people with dark skin, stay the hell out of Harlem.
Quick! Youre on chopped, the basket ingredients are
Proscuitto, pirate berry cereal, smoked white cheddar, and nyquil. What do you make?
people seem to all be responding to this post with the same train of thought: prosciutto and cheese sticks, fried in cereal breading, nyquil sauce on the side. but do you know what counts against you in chopped? lack of creativity. congratulations, every single one of you with the same hivemind answer just got voted out. not to mention the concept of a nyquil sauce on cheese sticks (smoked cheese especially) is fucking appalling. and if you can’t taste the nyquil, that’s also grounds to get voted out.
take it from a fucking crocker, there isn’t anything that can’t be made into a good meal. especially this? at it’s base, all of these are strong, hearty flavors. not necessarily ones i’d opt to pair and i try not to make a habit out of cooking with menthol, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be made to work.
i’m gonna hit this with a double feature, because i want this meal to happen. trying to force all possible basket ingredients into the smallest conceivable physical space, as is the case with the cheese stick ideal, may get the job done but like i said, it’s gonna taste like shit. breaking it into separate parts will cut you a little closer on time, but the dish itself will be better and your presentation will take a heavy bonus.
so here’s what you do.
take a two tablespoons of nyquil and put it in a small saucepan with two parts water to one part nyquil and pinch of salt. tiny, my man. a quarter teaspoon, maybe. let it steep over a low broil for 5 or so minutes* or until the water starts to take on a greenish tint. don’t stir it. separate the thicker part of the syrup from the ugly menthol-tinted water like you’d take out an egg white. dump the syrupy bit, but keep what is now a nyquil extract in the saucepan.
take that off the burner and let it cool to room temperature and put it into a small bowl; mix it in with a dash of real mint, three teaspoons of lemon juice, a tablespoon of white wine vinegar, two teaspoons of honey, another teaspoon of salt and a half cup of olive oil. this little vinaigrette will serve the purpose of a standard mint, save for that glaringly artificial taste that there’s no fucking way you’re going to be able to avoid cooking with nyquil anyways. it’s the difference between real oranges and orange gummies, but since the hors d’ouvre we’re making is primarily sweet anyways, it won’t hurt anyone to slide into the candy-like flavor realm.
*while your extract is steeping, make the most of your wait time and peel and cut a few slim wedges of ripe sweet melon. personally, i prefer charentais, but the best the chopped pantry will probably have is gonna be canteloupe. (honeydew works too, but it harshes the color scheme.) half your wedges once you get them out into a nice finger-food size. you should still have time to strip your prosciutto into inch/inch and a half wide strips, but if you don’t, you can take that on while the saucepan is cooling.
once your vinaigrette is done and mixed, toss your melon wedges in it until they’ve got a nice, sweet sheen over ‘em, and then wrap the seasoned wedges in the prosciutto. this is an italian classic, and it’s super easy. like i said before, the artificial taste of the nyquil will give this a slight twinge of tasting more like a snack, but overall, it’s still a great appetizer. if you do it right, this is high marks city.
“oh, fucker, but you didn’t even touch the berry cereal or the cheese!”
you are absolutely fucking right. because you know how bad it would’ve tasted if i did? i’m giving you the benefit of the doubt and assuming you don’t. so here’s the long-awaited fabled part two.
from the pantry, you’re gonna need some good apples. they don’t specify which wood the cheese was smoked with, but i’m going to assume it was hickory as that tends to be the favorite for cheddar flavors? so you can compliment the hickory smoke with a tart apple that’s got a sweetness to it - honeycrisp or braeburn are gonna be on the money.
put a whole apple (not peeled or cored, but make sure to take the stem off), a cup of apple cider vinegar, a cup of water, a cup of sugar, a tablespoon of salt, two teaspoons of cinnamon, and a tablespoon of lemon juice into the food processor and light that shit up. put your mushy applesauce-style mix into a large, wide pan into it until it caramelizes and evens out. it’s butter now.
now take two cups of berry cereal and take the actual berries out. with a mortar and pestle, grind up those weird yellow square bits into cereal dust. cut 6-8 slices from a thin loaf of french bread, brush the crusts in olive oil, and roll vertically in the cereal dust. once the outside of the bread has a second crust of cereal around the outside, arrange all of the pieces on a non-stick cooking pan. (you won’t use all of them in your plating, but it never hurts to have a little extra in case they burn on the edges or something gets fucky.)
take the apple butter you made and spread it thinly but evenly over the bread slices. cover them with a layer of folded prosciutto, a layer of thin apple slices, and a layer of sliced smoked cheese. bake for 15-20 minutes, or until the bread (and cereal) is golden brown.
plate on a flat square dish with one baked cheddar and apple butter tea sandwich fixed to one corner, your prosciutto-wrapped melon wedge in the opposite corner with the core-curve facing the center of the plate. accent the sandwich side with two apple slices forming an angle, and divide the plate with a colorful drizzle of the nyquil vinaigrette and a mint leaf.
last, but most certainly not least. while you’re on chopped, in that cute little cutscene after your plates have been served and you’re monologuing your final thoughts before the judges try your food,
look directly into the camera and invite tumblr user @tedallen to suck your dick.
Jesus christ, you win all of chopped. Are you happy? Are you happy the network canceled chopped because of you? Unbelievable. Well, take your pants off, let’s go.
there’s some lava bending going on there…. so she separated the ground down to the mantle layer (magma chamber)? then floated that chunk on lava then air bended it over?
This is often cited as the single most powerful feat in bending in the entire franchise, and I’m inclined to agree. Kyoshi Island also manages to wind up quite a distance from the mainland–let’s assume it’s still on the continental shelf, otherwise MY GOD–and is large enough to sustain a reasonably-sized village with agriculture. Unless there’s an earthbending equivalent of the great comet going on, this is nuts. Avatar Kyoshi also lived to 230 years old. All of this begs the question to me–what the hell was up with her? Did she get a spirit-world power boost or something? These things are all very much outside the norm, even in a world of such extraordinary people. What’s everybody’s theory on this?
She was just that strong
My thought has always been that Kyoshi was one of the few Avatars that was completely at peace with who and what she was. Every other Avatar we’ve seen – even the best of them like Aang and Korra – are conflicted over what they have to do and how they do it. Guilt and self-loathing over their responsibilities and actions, regret over what they could have done better.
Kyoshi, however, never doubted herself. Even without being arrogant, she always saw that what she did had to be done. She took what were the only options. You see this even in the advice she gives to subsequent Avatars: Be decisive. Be final. Commit.
Because of that, she was one of the few (Maybe only) Avatars who was able to completely encompass the powers available to them. No part of her subconsciously didn’t want to use them. There was no hesitancy buried so deep that she even didn’t realize it, Unlike Aang, or Roku, or Koruk, or Korra, or Yangchen, or even Wan, she was able to give herself over totally to whatever she was doing and hold nothing back.
That’s why she was able to accomplish feats of bending and skill that no other Avatar could equal: Because she, alone of all the Avatars, had she SHEER CHUTZPHA to do it.
when ppl act like the goal of anti-nazi ppl is to “”change their minds”” about their “”beliefs”” like… that’s…
we don’t give a shit about their ~beliefs~??? I dont care if mr dick is sittin in his house thinking jews are awful. I would LIKE for him to not think that but I ultimately do not care. I do not care about changing his thoughts.
i care about preventing him from having enough of a public platform that he and people like him gain the power to ACT ON those beliefs.
so yes actually! punching nazis when they are trying to be suave on television, such that they are unwilling to try to go and appear suave on television again, does accomplish that.
i dont care what mr dick thinking in the privacy of the hole he crawled out of, at this point. we are at a point where there are way more pressing things regarding nazis. which is like. nazis get to be suave on television.
I was at Disneyland yesterday and when I walked into the Princess Fantasy Faire I welled up with tears as I witnessed a magical moment with the newest princess Elena of Avalor speaking in full Spanish to a small princess visiting from Latin America.
Representation matters.
Oooh she’s so pretty 😍
Me: crying at this beautiful magical moment…
Also me: I don’t understand what is being said except zapatos. They are talking about shoes and I’m crying again.
I guess I should’ve translated for the non-Spanish speakers. Elena: “Your shoes are so sparkly! You know my grandmother always says a princess needs something sparkly so everyone knows that you are a princess and look; you have your crown, your dress and your shoes. Everything is so beautiful!”
not what I usually reblog, but this is too beautiful to pass up
could you imagine The Enterprise having like a yearly inspection and Kirk bugs out every time because the best running ship in the fleet certainly doesn’t become so because they follow the rules. He has to remind the crew a week in advance to actually call him Captain and use formal titles. Bones and Scotty’s shared bathroom which is one hundred percent a liquor cabinet/distillery cannot be a thing. Sulu has to collect all of his plants out of everywhere that’s not the Botany Labs and hide the illegal ones he picked up during their journey in his quarters. Scotty has to remove all of his Scotty-Approved-Modifications from Engineering. Spock can’t work four shifts in a row and break the ensigns that challenge him in the gym to sparring matches. Bones can’t medically offer alcohol to anybody. Uhura needs to not curse every ten minutes, in any language. Chekov needs to focus more on his console and less on every pair of legs walking by his station.
Nurse Chapel needs to actually do what McCoy says, rather than agreeing with him then doing something wildly different but more productive and helpful. Bones isn’t allowed on the Bridge unless called. Spock needs to sit at his console, standing up and leaning over all coy is actually a safety hazard. Scotty can’t use scottish slang over the comm system
But then something *happens* like it always does to Kirk–the “hole in space/giant glowing hand” kind of thing–and all of that goes out the window–in the course of, say, 38 hours Jim gets called “jim” 50 times, Spock never goes off shift, the ship is hit and all of sulus plants fall out of the closet they were stuffed in, uhura is swearing up a storm and Scotty’s jurry-rigging everything, checkov gets caught staring at the pretty alien, and Chapel does her damn job thank you, and Bones appears in the bridge to yell at everybody like he does.
BUT, at the end of the day, Kirk has secured a new treaty because the culture values closeness over formality, Spock’s marathon at the science station has collected enough data to keep the academy busy for *months*, one of the aliens is fascinated by the plants ensuring a new collaboration between their scientists and starfleet, Scottys improvements to the systems prevent their new friends from getting eliminated by their enemies and uhura’s swearing intimidated the enemy into backing off, and the princess is totally ensnared with Chekov–oh, and Bones discovers the cure for the new mystery illness is the bathroom moonshine, and chapel saves the fucking day.
The inspector just throws up their hands because he’d read the Kirk file, *but he never believed it was true*
What do you mean I’m “OBSESSED” with owls?
craving platonic interaction between these 2 tbh
So I kept forgetting to post this AMAZING commission I got from the wonderful Dapperdeerlord! I love it so much, and use it for all my wallpapers! n3n
I’ve been following them for ages, especially their Zelda art so was the perfect chance to get a commission.
Go follow them or commission them if you get a chance! <3
Commission from Dapperdeerlord
@dapperowl
Their Patreon
Mine:
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so cute
@official-spec
WOW THIS IS CUTE, it’s so nice to see a boy allowed to act flustered
Can we all take a moment to appreciate non-binary fairies please
“little sillies” :’3
Also note that this was written before pink was assigned to girls and blue to boys.
What is wrong with mint and mint relatives? Thank you.
They’re lovely, but they MUST be kept in a pot, or a raised bed, or on a good-quality leash with a chest harness, because mint and its cousins spread like… IDEK, like a rash. Like dandelions. They’re tough, hardy and highly motivated. Even a tiny root fragment will suddenly turn into a Mint Tree if you don’t tear it up. I swear I’ve seen new plants popping up from BURIED SCRAPS OF LEAF. Once they’re in the ground they establish a beachhead and spawn secretly, possibly through osmosis. I cannot advise you to stick a mint plant in the ground unless you are a bold and unconventional disciplinarian.
The joke is that after running around after the mint like a spaniel chasing a whack-a-mole for a year, Dr Glass then planted a plant that would do the same thing.
Great plants, hard to kill, keep them in a pot (ESPECIALLY where invasive)
I would really recommend against planting mint in raised beds, and also, if in a pot, DO NOT PUT THE POT ON SOIL. The pot needs to be on rock or concrete. Otherwise the roots will head straight for freedom through the drainage holes, and you will Never Be Free.
of course, on the other hand, if you’re at all inclined to pettiness expressed via herbology, mint makes a GREAT vehicle for plant-based vengeance.
i have absolutely thrown mint roots into the perfectly manicured lawns of people i hate.
An ever growing mint plant appearing in my lawn would seem like the opposite of a problem to me?
They’re invasive, which means if they’re anywhere in your garden or manicured areas they could ruin the other plants, I think? But yeah I’d love to have a damn mint plant in my yard sounds ideal.
Has anyone ever thought of just having a lawn of mint instead of grass? Like how you have moss lawns?
… I am not judging!! but I don’t think the people in the notes who are like “oh a mint lawn would be lovely!” have met mint!
You know what would be a lovely herbal lawn? Chamomile. Because it’s a damn compact, densely-growing, hardy, winter-green perennial that’s springy underfoot, smells nice when you walk on it, and has some basic manners. Lawn chamomile is plushy and soft and produces tiny pretty daisy-looking flowers. It naturally stays at pretty much the height you would want grass to be, and then you can cut it and it goes “fair enough.”
Mint is not any of those things. Mint is leggy, patchy, muddy and rampageous. It grows randomly and fitfully. It bullies other plants. It sends runners into the neighbor’s houses and across the street and it barks at the postman. Your mint lawn would look like a poorly tended graveyard AND THEN IN THE WINTER IT WOULD DIE, DRAMATICALLY, and ROT THERE. It would outcompete native plants and eat your vegetable garden alive. It is so wet and stalky that it would be dreadful to trim, and when you trimmed it, it would scab over and sulk. It would refuse to grow where it was put (the lawn) and would instead show up in places you don’t want it (the patio, the sidewalk, your intrusive thoughts.) IT IS AN INVASIVE PLANT, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR FAMILY
It’s like asking why people don’t make lawns out of cabbages, or hyenas, or the cold virus. BECAUSE THEN IT WOULDN’T BE A LAWN OR A GARDEN
Things are heating up in the herb fandom.
Reblogging because this conversation deserves to be shared with tumblr; Chris Pike would totally give mint as a gift to someone he hated as revenge.
I am really curious as to where @elodieunderglass is from. Because, well, the thing about invasive species is that they are only invasive in some areas.
And I can attest to being able to *kill* mint plants where I live. Ones out in the yard and everything, and they certainly aren’t on my areas list.
I’m from New England, USA. I live in Old England, Europe.
The thing with mint is that it’s not necessarily a lot of Invasive Species watch lists, it’s *an* invasive - an unscientific and loose term for things whose natural history and reproductive habits mean they can quickly outcompete native organisms. It isn’t An Invasive Plant ™ in its native soils, which are around Europe and the MENA region. Instead, it behaves invasively, like bindweed.
Mint’s brilliant, admirable secret is its long runners, or horizontal water-seeking roots. A tiny sprig will produce extremely long underground runners that can be many feet long. If a runner encounters a water source, it can suck it up and feed the host plant (so a mint plant growing in the middle of barren concrete may be slurping up water from a garden across the street, or a leaking pipe under the sidewalk, or possibly Neptune.) and each runner can also pop up a stalk in a new location, creating a new plant. A section of runner or other root is perfectly capable of making a new plant, so a fragment of buried root in a neighbor’s garden could result in a mint popping up in your patio. Mint also spreads by seed, so it disperses very efficiently.
Why is this a problem? Eh, it’s not really. It’s simply doing what’s in its nature. I always advocate for that. But it will outcompete your garden in most conditions - I.e if your other herbs want water, mint will steal it out from under them. It’s a water hog, as simple as that. In dry conditions or climates it will politely limit itself to places where it is given water, but if you start watering another part of the garden - maybe you want to cultivate a rose, or an olive tree - the mint will magically show up there, banging its water dish and looking expectant. And it will say “I had a secret runner that went here, Just In Case.” And you’ll say “fair enough, you mad bastard.”
But you’re right, my terminology was unclear. It’s a confusing way to use it and I won’t do it again
This Mint Discourse is the karmic price I must pay, since two years ago my husband chucked a mint plant into the field of a farmer he didn’t like, and I… Reader, I let him do it
Thank you all for warning me not to plant “a little mint” around the side of the house because it would be “nice to have around”.
Thank you all again for letting me know that this is a credible form of botanical terrorism.
CHOICE EXCERPTS:
they establish a beachhead and spawn secretly, possibly through osmosis
like a spaniel chasing a whack-a-mole for a year
pettiness expressed via herbology,
plant-based vengeance
i have absolutely thrown mint roots into the perfectly manicured lawns of people i hate.
[Chamomile] has some basic manners
Mint is… rampageous. It bullies other plants…. It barks at the postman
like a poorly tended graveyard
It’s like asking why people don’t make lawns out of cabbages, or hyenas, or the cold virus
so a mint plant growing in the middle of barren concrete may be slurping up water from a garden across the street, or a leaking pipe under the sidewalk, or possibly Neptune.
In dry conditions or climates it will politely limit itself to places where it is given water, but if you start watering another part of the garden - maybe you want to cultivate a rose, or an olive tree - the mint will magically show up there,
banging its water dish and looking expectant
“fair enough, you mad bastard.”
This Mint Discourse is the karmic price I must pay, since two years ago my husband chucked a mint plant into the field of a farmer he didn’t like, and I… Reader, I let him do it
credible form of botanical terrorism.
@memprime @elodieunderglass @semianonymity @nehirose @voidbat @hello-hayati @eminenceofiyanola @elodieunderglass @dirtycorzaharkness @naamahdarling I want to thank each and every one of you. The talent and the bright minds behind this post, incredible. We wouldn’t be standing here today without you. This was a group effort, a team play. Y’all came together and gave it your A game and that really shows through in the final product. Good job team, you really did it.
You thanked me twice and I’m grateful
“I’m a little disappointed, Corvo. It’s like you’ve gone out of your way to be brutal.”