if i look back, i am lost
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@theemmjay
Today's Basic Instructions:
So Meyer knows enough to hew to The Lego Group's preferred presentation of their trademark (i.e. referring to the bricks as "LEGO bricks" (the capitalization is part of the preferred presentation, and something that Registered Lego Fan Media is required to do) and not "Legos"), but he doesn't know the Lego bricks already connect to Duplo bricks. Interesting.
In reverse order, I say kill Rogue (because if I do either of the other two, she'd kill me), marry Jean Gray (because spending my life with a hot redhead is living the dream), fuck Emma Frost (and not just because she's what's left over, her White Queen outfit is hot as hell).
Every so often, the people who make the news quiz at The New York Times have a little too much fun with the incorrect answers.
Exhibit B. Sure, half of the incorrect ones are serious, but "No Parades?" (Self-contradictory much?) "Queens Only?" (Sounds like a parade in drag.)
Honestly, I'd totally watch a movie where a Predator hunted a T. rex. And I love that two of the incorrect answers throw Disney-owned properties into the mix.
Only one this time, but it still gave me a chuckle.
The answers themselves aren't what's funny this time (except maybe the tank), it's the escalation.
Another one with only one that came off as a joke, but what a joke!
Another one that starts out serious, then says, "Hey, let's throw in a couple of pop culture references."
We really need to bring "23 skidoo" back.
Thirty-six percent of people taking the quiz got this one right; I can only hope that the vast majority of the incorrect guesses weren't the Harry Potter reference.
I was reading a comment about AI "art" on DeviantArt when something occured to me. If you asked an AI to generate an image of Count Rugen from The Princess Bride, would it give him the right number of fingers on both hands?
"Did you hear about Jeff?"
"No, what happened?"
"He ate his gun."
"He killed himself?"
"No, I mean he literally ate it. With ketchup and a bit of salt. Said his diet wasn't providing him with enough iron."
Politician dies and is given the choice between going to Heaven or Hell, but first he is given a tour of both places.
The tour of Heaven goes as expected, it's all vibrant, sunny, peaceful with charming harp music playing. There are people dressed in white robes walking around, everyone appears happy and peacefully. But honestly seems a little boring.
Then the politician gets a tour of Hell and it's not at all what he expected.
In hell he is shown all of his favorite things: beautiful golf courses, free everything, infinite booze, all his old friends, partying, drugs, prostitutes. The politician can't believe it, it's like all of his epic nights out combined and stretched out to infinity.
When it's time to make his choice, rather surprisingly the politician chooses Heaven.
The devil, completely shocked by this choice asks him "Well why did you choose Heaven after I showed you how incredibly Hell would be for you"
The politician then replies "I know false promises in a campaign when I see them"
A software salesman dies, and is given the choice between going to heaven and going to hell.
He's shown heaven: Puffy white clouds, streets of gold, beautiful music everywhere, but honestly, a little boring.
He's shown hell: Endless parties with the best dance music, the best food, the best drink, and lots of beautiful people he to dance or make out with.
He chooses hell, and is immediately in a lake of fire, being tortured by a demon with a pitchfork.
He cries out, "What happened to the parties?!"
"Ah," the demon says. "You must have seen our demo."
So, I'm reading this New York Times article about a man who got trapped in a cave and I see this line: "'His full body was stuck in a crevice that was basically designed the exact shape of him,' the lieutenant said." And, of course, being the weeaboo that I am, I immediately think, "This hole, it was made for me!"
went to the ER cause I got punched in the head by a mouse
Now I'm picturing Remy trying to teach Linguini how to cook and getting really frustrated when he just. cant. get it!
Also, I thought that this was a @one-time-i-dreamt post at first.
No matter how many posts I've tagged with #the new york times," it never shows up in the list of tags I've used previously. Even in the list of popular tags, it doesn't show up until I type out "the new york" and hit space.
Just saw this in The New York Times' The Morning newsletter:
If you’re older, married, white, Christian or rural, you’re probably a Republican, the numbers show. If you’re college educated, urban, young, female or unmarried, you’re probably a Democrat.
So, if you're middle-aged, divorced, genderfluid/nonbinary, and live in a suburb, what do you tend to be? Independent? (Not trying to poke fun or anything, I just couldn't resist the joke.)
Idea: TV Guide, the magazine for crossdressers.
I was thinking recently that when I was born (in 1980), there were still Titanic survivors alive, and it occurs to me that there are other groups of people that still had living members then, but not any more.
WWI veterans
People born in the nineteenth century
Comedians who got their start in vaudeville
And it won't be too long before WWII veterans get added to that list.
From this New York Times article:
Mr. Trump is proudly a billionaire and built a populist message on standing up for those left behind. His supporters and allies have long argued that by virtue of his wealth, he could never be bought by special interests.
Yes, because billionaires never want more money. You could never influence one by offering them more. </sarcasm>
So I ordered the parts to make a couple of ghosts off of Lego Pick a Brick, and since the only "white sheet" ghosts I'd had before getting these two were the original Lego ghost and Ghost Vitruvius, I was surprised to see the pin hole on the top. Since I can never resist tinkering with Lego:
Voila! A femme-presenting ghost!
A professor stands in front of a class on the first day of term for “Time Travel 101” and explains why no one is allowed to go to Stephen Hawking’s party.
"Does everyone finally have that? Good. Now, let's move on to the next lesson: No killing Hitler."
All right, since it's the anniversary of the Titanic sinking, do you want to tell us about how the Carpathia sank?
i very much want to do that.
I feel a little guilty, sometimes, over this. I made all these innocent people fall in love with Carpathia, and then they go to read more about her and learn she was unceremoniously sunk in WWI and it understandably upsets them.
But I don’t think it should. So today I’m going to tell you what happened on July 17th, 1918.
There’s…poetry, in the story of Carpathia’s final hours. Sometimes things happen that make you believe in fate. Parallels. Things that ring true, the echoes of harpstrings across time. History doesn’t repeat itself but sometimes it rhymes.
She was a comfortable little cruise liner, not flashy but safe and steady; perfect for getting people where they needed to go. Arthur Rostron having been promoted and given a new position following the Titanic rescue, she was under the command of a Captain William Prothero. The British navy commissioned her as a troop carrier at the beginning of WWI, transporting supplies and soldiers from Canada to the European front. On this mission, she was part of a convoy en route from Liverpool to Boston.
This is how Carpathia dies: On the morning of July 17th, 1918, she is 120 miles off the coast of southern Ireland.
So is the German submarine U-55.
She takes one torpedo on the port side; the damage is serious, yet not catastrophic. But it knocks out her wireless. Her attempts to send an SOS fail.
The second torpedo hits the engine room.
Three firemen and two trimmers are killed instantly in the explosion that dooms her. One life would be too many, five men are dead and five families are in mourning. I do not dismiss or disregard that loss. But there will be no more casualties today. Carpathia has never given people over to Death without a fight.
The order to abandon ship is given calmly and professionally, long before the situation becomes desperate. Lifeboats are lowered in time, and filled quickly. They know what they’re doing, and they do it well. By the time she begins to sink in earnest, every person onboard is safely in a lifeboat and well away from her.
She stays afloat exactly long enough to save them. There are worse ends for a good ship than this: No one dies in the sinking of Carpathia. There is no terror in the dark, no drownings, no one trapped and forgotten.
The U-boat surfaces. There’s a third torpedo.
Carpathia buckles quietly and starts to vanish, and that harpstring…shivers.
There was another group of lifeboats, once. Alone and facing death, too small, too scattered, tossed like toys and struggling to stay together. Helpless on the open ocean.
This is not the sinking of the Titanic. Carpathia has done everything right, and her people are still alive. They can still be saved. But this is not the sinking of the Titanic, and the threat is not cold and time but German torpedoes.
And this time, Carpathia cannot come for them.
There is a cosmic cruelty in this moment. It’s wrong, an injustice the universe can hardly bear. It’s not fair, for Carpathia’s story to end like this. It’s not right. 706 lives were saved because of a moment of kindness and a friendly wireless transmission; she should not go down cut off and silent, unable even to cry out. This ship who gave so much, who tried so hard, who broke and transcended herself in a thousand tiny moments of bright glory, burning hope as fuel against the dark–for her to die alone, and have no one even try to help.
U-55 comes about. Its machine guns train on the lifeboats.
HMS Snowdrop appears on the horizon.
She’s a little thing, relatively speaking; not a battleship, not a destroyer. A minesweeper sloop on patrol–important but not terribly prestigious. But another member of the convoy, seeing the steam liner taking on water and understanding the radio silence, has sent Carpathia’s SOS for her. And Snowdrop may not be the strong arm of the British navy, but she is no refit passenger liner.
U-55 has done what it came to do; its crew came here to eliminate ship tonnage, not risk themselves and their vessel over a few lifeboats. There is a brief exchange of gunfire with Snowdrop, but U-55 quickly peels off to run.
Carpathia disappears quietly. It breaks my heart that we lose her–but far better, always, to lose a precious ship than to lose her crew. She will sink and drift more than 500 feet below the surface before she settles, almost upright, on the ocean floor. She will rest there until 1999, when an expedition that could not bear to forget her, that could not bear not to try, will finally locate and identify her wreckage.
But that’s in her future. Right now, on a clear morning off the coast of Ireland, the minesweeper HMS Snowdrop takes on 215 people–save for the five lost in the engine room explosion, the entire ship’s company.
The date is July 17th, 1918, and RMS Carpathia has pulled off her last miracle.
On the one hand, a sad end for a valiant ship. On the other hand, at least she was spared the ignominy of the scrapyard.
