The amount of times people have called my trumpet a saxophone, or my trombone a saxophone, or my clarinet a saxophone, or my melodica a saxophone, or my saxophone a saxophone apauls me.
Never call someone a saxophone; not only is it rude, it’s a slur and against the law.
Fully agree.
My take as of late is that any 3rd party candidate who runs in our two party system can’t possibly be serious. They make a huge show, maybe get a message out, but almost always torpedo the party closest to them.
With the Stein’s and RFKs in the news, it’s all sexy flashy publicity without any serious effort to have a 3rd party win.
That said, there is another 3rd party personality that you might not have heard of in a while: Andrew Yang.
I actually believe he is serious about electoral reform, in fact that’s the one issue his Forward Party is about. He and his team have worked quietly to help get ranked choice vote in local elections. He is not running for president as a spoiler candidate. He is not running for senate as an independent. He is putting in the work along with fairvote.org to make the structural changes needed to have viable 3rd party campaigns. We saw what happened in Alaska when ranked choice vote was present- they kept Sarah Palin from holding a Senate seat and elected a Democrat instead.
If we had the NPVIC and ranked choice vote, our democracy would be much more representative, collaborative, and stable.
Basically, but the next step is to forgive and love that part as well. That part of you developed for a reason. If you can name what that part of you is, you might be able to look back to a time where that part of you was what was helping you. Now that you are living a different life, the game is to tell that part to step to the side and let another part of you take the wheel.
At least that’s what a gleaned from my conversation last night.
If it helps anyone in a similar situation, after a shroom trip two weeks ago, I realized my issue is a deeeeeep seated shame- my “Mr. Ethics” vibe is a facade and if you cross examined me long enough you would find out I’m rotten to the core.
I know this is false, but it’s so engrained it’s hard to shake.
In relationships, I’ll feel very anxious because I feel like “the jig is gonna be up soon, they’ll see you for who you are, you will hurt them” so I’ll usually drop and run.
4 hours later
Also I started this comment a few hours ago, but since have chatted with my friend over beers and he told me about “parts therapy”. Basically acknowledge there are many parts to you, there is no single you. There is the “superhero” you, the “deviant” you, the “artist”, the “lover”, etc. So in trying to identify this core I believe is rotten, I came up with “the sleezy politician”. I feel like I can manipulate people like hell- I can put on the charm to get what I want or to avoid risk. I can think of times when this version of me was necessary as a survival mechanism. Highschool was clique-city, and the theater department was a social minefield. My family had a heavy political side. Growing up I felt like I had a superpower to lie and get away with anything, it took me a while to realize it wasn’t a superpower but would hurt me so much more later. All that I learned through that is something I now need to undo, and that is to be comfortable with myself and not care about how others see me.
Ooof sorry I kinda word vomited but thanks for being my prep for tomorrow’s therapy sesh.
As it stands now, you could give me an amazing person to be with who would check all my boxes and would be a perfect match
And I would break up with them anyway in about 6 months.
I have a VERY avoidant attachment style that I need to shake before I can get into anything.
They sure do pal.
Wait people have multiple accounts?
There is one exception to the “Trump hates negative press” that I’d like to note. When Dr. Fauci was called to meet with Trump after he corrected him on live TV about drinking bleach, he found Trump in his office saying “My god these ratings are amazing, they’re better than cable”. Oddly enough sometimes Trump sees any news is good news so long as he’s the main focus.
The times I’ve seen him really go off is when the news cycle stops paying attention to him.
Also she wasn’t even really interrupting him. If you watch the clip, she was muted and he was easily heard over her. It wasn’t as if she was really steamrolling.
You can tell it got under his skin in 2020, and this was just a pathetic way to “get back” at her for being a woman who asserted herself in a debate.
Straight to jail with you
So I had to look up the Boltzmann constant and… That’s a lot of math.
I think you have a point on the decreasing human temperature. It looks like the decrease is at 0.05°F every decade, which actually is quite a bit. If it was something like 0.005°F, I’d say that that’s a problem for the people of the year 2500 to solve.
That said, the reason it’s been decreasing seems to be due to medical advances and not some change in the Earth’s gravity or climate change. I would be surprised to see humans in the year 2500 having an average body temperature of 72.9°F, or closing in on 0°F in the year 3,984. I imagine there will be fluctuations, but there’s got to be a lower limit to what is physically possible.
I’d still defend the Celsius number, since even though there are changes due to air pressure, it’s changing over space and not time. In the year 2500, water at sea level will still freeze at 0°C.
I think my big thing is I’m less concerned about a logically consistent scale, and more towards a scale that’s geared to the emotional side of temperature.
Thinking outloud moment
If we are going for the emotional side of temperature specifically, we would also need to factor in wind, humidity, sunlight, what season it is, etc. and that’s a lot of variables, and even then that’s how you get the wind-chill factor. But even that is almost completely subjective. I feel like that scale would go from “IT’S GOTTA BE NEGATIVE A MILLION FUCKIN’ DEGREES” to “I FEEL LIKE IM ON THE SURFACE OF THE SUN, so like a bazillion degrees” and then we go to the traffic report.
Either way, it’s not a perfect scale, but I’d still take that over the other two.
I present the temperature scale that I made up- the Human Scale (H°)
I thought about the Fahrenheit vs Celsius debate, and I think both have practical uses, however I think combined they could make a very practical scale.
Fahrenheit: while my American sensibilities agree that 100° is a good marker for what % of my patience is used up to cut a bitch, I think a similar place would be the average human body temperature. For this reason, 100°H = 98.6°F . It’s not a perfect match, but it can still give us the satisfaction of “IT’S 100°!?” while having practical implications for medical uses “your body temperature is 102°, 2° warmer than average”.
Celsius: I think this scale makes a ton of sense for colder temperatures. When the thermometer reads 0°, that’s when you can expect snow. For this reason, 0°H = 0°C.
The conversation rates are:
H = (F-32) × 1.5
H= C × 2.7
More precise is
H = (F-32) × 1.501501501…
H = C × 2.7027027027…
While using the freezing point of water and the average human body temperature seem like inconsistent and arbitrary benchmarks, my goal is less about consistency and more about practicality for everyday use.
Now watch this scale grow as big as Esperanto.
So my personal take on shopping cart theory is that it assumes putting away shopping carts is not a fun job.
I have worked at whole foods for 2 years, and the thing I hated the most was how it felt like Bezos’s watchful eye was always on you. The supervisors could be super persnickety about your breaks. Compared to my new life as a self employed musician, it was like prison, but that’s retail for ya.
I personally loved cart duty. It was a time when I could go outside, get some fresh air, and not be under the surveillance of that god awful company*.
So now if it is a nice day out, I will go out of my way to put the cart in left field. I call it a chaotic good move.
That said the “it keeps jobs” is BS. If cart duty wasn’t a thing, the person would still be filling baskets and cleaning windows.
*Note: the Halstead location in Chicago was actually really great. Maybe it was the Stockholm syndrome of working retail during pandemic, maybe it was Midwestern kindness, but that team actually seemed to care about each other’s wellbeing and we’d even hang out. I lean towards Midwestern kindness though, I moved here from Seattle and while I miss the mountains, I CERTAINLY do not miss the social scene. Despite what the news tries to tell you, Chicago takes care of its own. Even when I was a stranger in a strange land, and then homeless during polar vortex, the people took me in. Every. Night.
Not sure if I’d visit, but I’d definitely live here.
Sorry for the Chicago tangent, I’m a few handshakes deep and I get emotional about this fuckin’ place.
It’s one of those quirks of the human brain where we can make faces from almost anything. In a more romantic view, we are always looking for connection, so we always look for faces. It might even be that we use this as a survival method. Just like when you take time to shelter yourself under a bush to hide. It was late October, the leaves on the ground created a great cushion to keep yourself safe. You had been running and hiding for the last 30 hours, but now you needed sleep. It was a risk that you calculated. You could try to keep going, but delusion is what took Sam. You make the most discreet of breathing holes, and you bunk in for then night. You try to sleep, but you only can think of the shrieking Sam made as he was torn apart by those wolves. You tried your best, at least you try to convince yourself that. Why couldn’t you save your friend while you yourself held that spear? You who only fended the beasts off after they had done away with Sam? Is it true that maybe you have become the monster that you were running from?
But your thoughts are interrupted.
You hear the clopping of hooves. He was able to track you this far. You thought you just had to worry about the elements, but you forgot about the element of surprise. You hold your breath, trying to not make a sound. Soon you hear his horse trot away. Safe, for now. But you knew this was way too close of a call. You had to keep creating distance, if you can find the shore, you can find your boat. If you find your boat you are home free.
You decide to make a break for it. You jump and hop through the brush, trying to keep your bearings, but then you feel a snag.
The trap was released.
You didn’t have time to react. You were immediately flung upwards, and now you find yourself upside down. Already so tired, you don’t think you can fight this one, but you keep trying to free yourself. Even then, you freeze when you hear the footsteps.
There he was.
The man you wished to never see again. The one you swore vengeance on. The one who now stares up at you with a maddening glee. He still is splattered with the blood of Sam, and now he looks at you and sees his next victim. “Not like this” you think “not because of him”. But it is. It always was. I always has been him. He is
But honestly I think it’s a great thing we keep looking for connection in the universe around us.
Gonna say as someone who has had sex so as not to hurt the other person’s feelings and then felt like shit right after, and then became paranoid other relationships are doing the same thing- this hits hard.
Honestly it’s amazing how sleep, diet, and exercise really are effective at overall happiness. Studies show that one of the best things you can do is to get the heart rate up, but it could be anything. Yoga, bicycling, or even running. Running really fast. Never stopping, no matter what. “Not like this, dear God not like this” you think as you fling yourself further and further into the forest. There is a sudden chill in the air as a fog rolls in over the snow. Moonlight is all that illuminates the forest, and fortunately the snow helps show a path, but not very far. You look down at the ground and you can see the bloodstains that leave a trail right to you. You lift each leg as much as you can in agony as your ski boots weigh you down. You know you can’t hide, so the only thing is to try and get back to the ski patrol cabin. Someone is bound to be there and they could give you medical attention.
How you wish you had your skis. How you wish you didn’t lose them when that… Thing separated you from Sam and you caught an edge and fell. You remember that Sam had the backpack with food and water, so survival for you will be much more difficult.
You keep digging your boots into the snow as if they were ice climbing spikes. Suddenly ahead you see a soft orange glow- a cabin. Could it be ski patrol? No it seems too residential. Could it be a vacation cabin? No, it has warped boards and broken windows. How could there be anyone inside to turn on a lamp?
But between freezing to death and going to a creepy cabin, you choose the cabin. You keep pushing up and up until you get to the door. You enter the cabin to see the glow is coming from the fireplace, and sitting in front of it is Sam! “Oh thank God!” You exclaim, but Sam doesn’t turn around. Your heart pounds as you panic. “Sam?” You walk over to his body, but as soon as you touch him he falls to the side. You look and you see his hands were bound and his stomach was slashed open revealing his intestines. Well, most of them, there are chunks of his guts bitten off. You scream in horror as the harvested body of the only friend you had lays before you. Only last night Sam asked you to be his best man at his wedding. How are you going to tell the news to Sarah? She had already been through so much after having to deal with you and Sam being deployed for 18 months in Kuwait, and just as you finally get back from surviving desert storm he dies like this?
You suddenly hear a wet smacking and gnashing of teeth. It turns out there were three of you in the cabin. You spin around to see a man with blood all down his chin and wild eyes stairing back. He’s eating bits of flesh as if it was a bit of beef jerky. He takes a deep, bone rattling inhale through the nose as if to smell you. You never thought this would be how it ends. You realize now you won’t get the chance to tell what happened to Sarah. The ghost stories were real- it was him all along. You couldn’t believe it, but there he was.
I mean I can tell you when I finally sucked it up and started running, my happiness went through the roof. If you are on that path to feel better, know that I am rooting for you! Just one step at a time.
Honestly I got really high one night and had just seen the Shia LaBeouf song, so I decided to write my own fanfiction but sneaking it into random comments on Lemmy, and then I just kinda kept doing it. So no copy, but this is OC pasta.
I’m gonna coin the term “getting LaBeouf’ed”
You just got LaBeouf’ed.
This but the exact opposite. I also have resting smile face. I’m so pissed off.