Iām watching season one simpsons
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@thecakeisimportant
Iām watching season one simpsons
this cavefish has a concept of the passage of time that no other living animal could fathom
I HATE MORAL OCD. well i shouldnt say hate thats a strong word. and i dont want to sound like i hate people WITH moral ocd because i dont of course. i just hate having it. but i shouldnt think that, i do like having morals, its just stressful to be thinking about them so constantly and scrutinizing every little thing i do or think. but really thats the least i could do so i should at least try, right? just because i suffer fromā no, struggle with moral ocd doesnāt mean i should just stop thinking about things all together, thats not what im saying and i should make that clear, but i
So last month I got hit by a car and died right. Which I didn't initially realize until I watched some guy haul my body into his pickup and drive off. Which, being that it's deep in rural Michigan, I assume means my body will make some venison jerky and maybe some wall decoration, and I'll be resigned to being one of hundreds of deer ghosts floating around Saginaw, which is w/e. But then I find out the guy works at a taxidermy shop or something, and he's actually pretty good at stuffing and mounting deer carcasses, which I come to find out when I find myself face to face with my old body in the shop window. So naturally, I figure since ghosts need to possess something to interact with the living world and etc etc etc the most logical thing to do is to possess my own body, since it's basically a statue of myself. And a little surprisingly, it actually fits like a glove. Like, since it's my body, it feels like stepping right back into place. So I get out of town and back to my herd, eventually. And that's where the trouble starts coming into it, because after I get settled again, I don't know how to explain to everyone else what feels so weird. Like since I can move my body and do everything I used to do, it's functionally the same, like nothing happened. Or it SHOULD be, so I don't know how to explain how it's NOT. But it's just hard to explain it to someone who's never been hit by a truck I guess
I've probably posted about this before but it still gets me that Ripley (my parrot) has a special nickname for my spouse, Tev. Like he knows and uses the names of everyone in his flock (me, Tev, Steve, and Cheese. also a couple of our friends and my mom's dog) but because Tev calls him "Ripley buddy," a couple years ago Ripley started calling him "Tev buddy" instead of just Tev. He doesn't call anybody else buddy. He knows that 'buddy' is a special suffix for him and Tev to use with each other's names because they love each other. Doesn't that just melt your fucking heart
They love each other
Had a dream that there was a new Pokemon that was ghost type and it was like. Half a greyhound. It was a spectral dog that was known as one of the fastest Pokemon. And yet it only had it front legs. There were wispy floating stubs on its back half which sort of implied there COULD be legs, but they never reached even close to the ground. It stood on its front legs as if the back legs were still there.
I donāt know what this Pokemonās name was but its appeared in many of my dreams so either they made it real and I forgot or Iām being haunted by a Fakemon.
I have been informed it is not a real Pokemon so Iāll share another detail I recall seeing about it more than once.
One of its main features about it is that it could run stupidly fast, like, a solid 100 MPH (at least thats my best guess from a dream) but more impressively or eerily is that it could go from 100 to 0 almost immediately, stopping in a stance where it stood up straight and at attention
I think I love this weird dream dog
I assume this is for artists so sure thing
I imagine that this dog is very tall and sleek (like a good five feet tall), with a sickly pale (with just a hint of light blue hue). Its eyes are a pure empty (yet still piercing somehow) white. Along its front half across the back and its legs are pale green sets of stripes, almost like racing stripes.
As for how the ghostlyĀ āback legsā worked, they looked sort of like this
with his physical form slowly transitioning into an pale blue ectoplasm, and there were amorphous hints of what could have possibly once been legs. Despite completely missing his back half, the posture seen here is still its regular posture, standing straight up, as if a soldier at attention.
Hope this helps!
Hehe i really like this concept
remember that guy that had a single auditory hallucination that told him he had a brain tumor and the exact location and then he went to the doctor and it was fucking right
Source
[Full text] A difficult case: Diagnosis made by hallucinatory voices
December 1997
DOI:10.1136/bmj.315.7123.1685 Authors: Ikechukwu Obialo Azuonye (Oxleas NHS Foundation Trust)
Introduction
A previously healthy woman began to hear hallucinatory voices telling her to have a brain scan for a tumour. The prediction was true; she was operated on and had an uneventful recovery.
No previous illnesses
Born in continental Europe in the mid-1940s the patient settled in Britain in the late 1960s. After a series of jobs, she got married, started a family, and settled down to a full time commitment as a housewife and mother. She rarely went to her general practitioner as she enjoyed good health and had never had any hospital treatment. Her children had also been in good health.
In the winter of 1984, as she was at home reading, she heard a distinct voice inside her head. The voice told her, āPlease don't be afraid. I know it must be shocking for you to hear me speaking to you like this, but this is the easiest way I could think of. My friend and I used to work at the Children's Hospital, Great Ormond Street, and we would like to help you.ā
AB had heard of the Children's Hospital, but did not know where it was and had never visited it. Her children were well, so she had no reason to worry about them. This made it all the more frightening for her, and the voice intervened again: āTo help you see that we are sincere, we would like you to check out the followingāāand the voice gave her three separate pieces of information, which she did not possess at the time. She checked them out, and they were true, but this did not help because she had already come to the conclusion that she had āgone mad.ā In a state of panic, AB went to see her doctor, who referred her urgently to me.
I saw her at the psychiatric outpatients clinic, and diagnosed a functional hallucinatory psychosis. I offered general supportive counselling as well as medication with thioridazine. To her great relief, the voices inside her head disappeared after a couple of weeks of treatment, and she went off on holiday. While she was abroad, and still taking the thioridazine, the voices returned. They told her that they wanted her to return to England immediately as there was something wrong with her for which she should have immediate treatment. By this time, she was also having other beliefs of a delusional nature.
She returned to London and I saw her again at my outpatients clinic. By this time, the voices had given her an address to go to. Reluctantly, and just to reassure her that it was all in her mind, her husband took her by car to the address in question; it was the computerised tomography department of a large London hospital. As she arrived there, the voices told her to go in and ask to have a brain scan for two reasonsāshe had a tumour in her brain and her brain stem was inflamed. Because the voices had told her things in the past that had turned out to be true, AB believed them when they said that she had a tumour and was in a state of great distress when I saw her the next day.
Brain scan requested
In order to reassure her, I requested a brain scan, explaining in my letter that hallucinatory voices had told her that she had a brain tumour, that I had not, personally, found any physical signs suggestive of an intracranial space occupying lesion, and that the purpose of the scan was essentially to reassure the patient. The request was initially declined, on the grounds that there was no clinical justification for such an expensive investigation. It was also implied that I had gone a little overboard, believing what my patient's hallucinatory voices were telling her.
Eventually, after some negotiation, the scan was done in April. The initial findings led to a repeat scan, with enhancement, in May, revealing a left posterior frontal parafalcine mass, which extended through the falx to the right side. It had all the appearances of a meningioma.
The consultant neurosurgeon to whom I referred AB noted the absence of headache or any other focal neurological deficits related to this mass, and discussed, with AB and her husband, the pros and cons of immediate operation as against waiting for symptoms to appear. In the end, it was agreed to proceed with an immediate operation. AB's voices told her that they were fully in agreement with that decision.
These were the notes of the operation, carried out in May 1984: āA large left frontal bone flap extending across the midline was turned following a bifrontal skin flap incision. Meningioma about 2.5ā by 1.5ā in size arose from the falx and extended through to the right side. A small area of tumour appeared on the medial surface of the brain. The tumour was dissected out and removed completely along with its origins in the falx.ā
AB later told me that when she recovered consciousness after the operation the voices told her, āWe are pleased to have helped you. Goodbye.ā There were no postoperative complications. The dosage of dexamethasone was halved every four days, and then it was stopped. She was on prophylactic anticonvulsants for six months. Antipsychotic medication was discontinued immediately after the operation, and there was no return of the hallucinatory voices or the delusions which she had expressed.
Discussion
AB telephoned me last Christmas to wish me and family a merry festive season, and to tell me that she had been completely well in the 12 years since the operation. It was this telephone call that brought this case to mind again.
It is well known that intracranial lesions can be associated with psychiatric symptomatology. But this is the first and only instance I have come across in which hallucinatory voices sought to reassure the patient of their genuine interest in her welfare, offered her a specific diagnosis (there were no clinical signs that would have alerted anyone to the tumour), directed her to the type of hospital best equipped to deal with her problem, expressed pleasure that she had at last received the treatment they desired for her, bid her farewell, and thereafter disappeared.
I presented her case at a conference later that year. AB attended and was closely questioned by several people about the various aspects of her experience. The audience was split down the middle. People who would be called X-philes today rejoiced that what had happened to her was a clear instance of telepathic communication from two well meaning people who had, psychically, found that AB had a tumour and sought to help her.
The X-phobes had a very different formulation. According to them, AB had been given the diagnosis of a brain tumour in her original country and wanted to be treated free under the NHS. Hence, they surmised, she had made up the convoluted tale about voices telling her this and that. But AB had lived in Britain for 15 years and was entitled to NHS treatment. Besides, she had been so relieved when the voices first disappeared on thioridazine that she had gone on holiday to celebrate the recovery of her sanity.
There was a group at the case conference who offered a different opinion. Their view was that, the total lack of physical signs notwithstanding, it was unlikely that a tumour of that size had had absolutely no effect on the patient. āShe must have felt something,ā they argued. They suggested that a funny feeling in her head had led her to fear that she had a brain tumour. That fear had led to her experience of hallucinatory voices. She may have unconsciously taken in more information about various hospitals than she realised, and this information was reproduced by her mind as part of the auditory hallucinatory experience. The voices expressing satisfaction with the outcome of her treatment were her own mind expressing its relief that the emergency was over. And the total disappearance of psychiatric symptoms after the removal of the tumour showed that these symptoms were at least directly related to the presence of the lesionāand may, in fact, have been produced by the lesion itself. I have obtained the patient's signed consent to publication.
incredible innovations on the beverage front
I had an interview with a local paper this week about this rock snake I started on the longest street of a nearby city (where I work) because it's bringing people so much joy:
I said something during the interview that the interviewer seemed really shocked by, so in case it's important for anyone else to hear: When asked about the rock snake and some scavenger hunts that I've hosted for adults, I said -
"We don't stop enjoying the things we liked as kids; they just stop being offered to us. And when you're a kid, fun things like art projects and scavenger hunts are always brought to you, so you're not taught to make a habit of seeking them out as and adult."
She said "Wow yeah... life is so stressful... and you don't think to... wow."
So if anyone else needs direct permission to be a whimsical adult child today, I hereby grant it to everyone. ā¤ļø
one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.
original post [x]
this is the happiest day of my life
Too soon
65 million yearsā¦
Donāt worry, guys. Carl is clearly a brachiosaurus, which lived during the Jurassic period. (And before anyone says our lilā boy Steve is a velociraptor and therefore puts our comic in the late cretaceous, aka the time of the cometāthat lil guy could easily be a compsognathus or a caudipteryx, both Jurassic-era species of small theropod dinosaurs. So the light getting bigger every night is going to pass by harmlessly, and Steve and Carl can go on enjoying the stars together until they die of old age, since Carl has very few natural predators at his size and I bet heāll protect Steve, if he needs it (though small, fast and carnivorous as Steve is, he probably wonāt).Ā
So itās all good!!Ā
That entire response explaining how these two characters didnāt die a fiery death but instead lived long and happy lives literally made my day.
I was ready to be heartbroken again. Thank you for making it happy after all.
me tongue-deep in a sandalwood candle: š¤¤
the tjmaxx employee loading a fourth tranquilizer dart into their blowgun: i need backup
Video game events of the near future.
They're called Remora and have suction cups on their heads.
They stick!
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/this-fish-hitches-rides-in-manta-rays-buttholes-according-to-new-research-180988736/