Open Bar: Arguments About Turtles, All the Way Down

[Freeky]

USB ports are now working. 

We took it to SWS to see about getting it fixed.  During the drive, my mom took a corner too sharply, and the tower hit the side of the car.  SWS says it works fine.

1.  FIND PROBLEM.
2.  PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE.
3.  ???
4.  PROFIT!!


It's either that or I'm just dumb and can't mouse.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

USB ports are now working. 

We took it to SWS to see about getting it fixed.  During the drive, my mom took a corner too sharply, and the tower hit the side of the car.  SWS says it works fine.

1.  FIND PROBLEM.
2.  PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE.
3.  ???
4.  PROFIT!!


It's either that or I'm just dumb and can't mouse.

Hmmm probably a loose connection that reconnected during the drive. I would insist on someone looking at the wiring before it's out of warranty.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

I am home, which is fine and lovely, but I kind of wanted to spend the night with the bf, but I guess there's a houseguest which makes that awkward. So I'm gonna head back out to play ingress.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

[LMNO]

Time to grab the boogie board!

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Time to grab the boogie board!

Time to be on bedrock, watching La Cholla road slide down to the highway.

So long, Marana!  We won't miss you!

[Eater of Clowns]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

I thought we were preaching border protection. We're going to send away a bunch of kids who never did us any wrong and let an enormous fucking hurricane right through it? Fuck's sake that's backwards.

[The Good Reverend Roger]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

I thought we were preaching border protection. We're going to send away a bunch of kids who never did us any wrong and let an enormous fucking hurricane right through it? Fuck's sake that's backwards.

It's like leaving a rider mower unattended, to drive through the neighbor's begonias.

[Suu]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

Now you know how we feel.

EVERY DAMN YEAR.

I mean, after that little warning shot called Sandy you sent us a few years ago to see if Richter was paying attention turned and decided to have a Jersey Shore vacation it was only a matter of time before your rain divinity backfired.

[Freeky]

USB ports are now working. 

We took it to SWS to see about getting it fixed.  During the drive, my mom took a corner too sharply, and the tower hit the side of the car.  SWS says it works fine.

1.  FIND PROBLEM.
2.  PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE.
3.  ???
4.  PROFIT!!


It's either that or I'm just dumb and can't mouse.

Hmmm probably a loose connection that reconnected during the drive. I would insist on someone looking at the wiring before it's out of warranty.

The only warantee I have is to return it to the pawn store (yes, I know) within 6 months for store credit.  I'll probably lug it back to SWS again, I need a sound board too, apparently. 

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

Now you know how we feel.

EVERY DAMN YEAR.

I mean, after that little warning shot called Sandy you sent us a few years ago to see if Richter was paying attention turned and decided to have a Jersey Shore vacation it was only a matter of time before your rain divinity backfired.

The rains are coming to Arizona. A flood will spread across the land, seeping into the withered pores of the desert's skin. Sand-tainted effluvia will run deep into Tucson's mummified heart, swelling its size until it bursts like over-ripe fruit or a body left in the sun too long.

The rains are coming to Arizona. The steady drumming, the unending pummeling of the desert will cover other noises. It will mask the beating of Tucson's awakened, swollen heart. As that creaking, ancient organ squelches and contracts with renewed malevolence it will pump more vile pus into its spore making. Tucson will bloom like mold on damp walls. It will send its spores into the sewers. Into the sea. Into your lungs. And it will thrive, torpid and malicious, until the rains recede.

The rains are coming to Arizona. Everything will be covered in that metallic-sand scented slime that is Tucson's spreading disease. The rains are coming but they will not last long enough to drown Tucson. And when the rains are spent, when the sky is once more bare, then the sun returns. That burning ball of hate and evil will pound, pound, pound Earth until the last bit moisture has been wicked away, burned to steam and then nothing. And when everything is as desiccated as it was before the rain, when it has all withered once more into an inert husk . . . then beware the spores.

[LMNO]

CPD's got a case of the Holies...

[The Good Reverend Roger]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

Now you know how we feel.

EVERY DAMN YEAR.

I mean, after that little warning shot called Sandy you sent us a few years ago to see if Richter was paying attention turned and decided to have a Jersey Shore vacation it was only a matter of time before your rain divinity backfired.

The rains are coming to Arizona. A flood will spread across the land, seeping into the withered pores of the desert's skin. Sand-tainted effluvia will run deep into Tucson's mummified heart, swelling its size until it bursts like over-ripe fruit or a body left in the sun too long.

The rains are coming to Arizona. The steady drumming, the unending pummeling of the desert will cover other noises. It will mask the beating of Tucson's awakened, swollen heart. As that creaking, ancient organ squelches and contracts with renewed malevolence it will pump more vile pus into its spore making. Tucson will bloom like mold on damp walls. It will send its spores into the sewers. Into the sea. Into your lungs. And it will thrive, torpid and malicious, until the rains recede.

The rains are coming to Arizona. Everything will be covered in that metallic-sand scented slime that is Tucson's spreading disease. The rains are coming but they will not last long enough to drown Tucson. And when the rains are spent, when the sky is once more bare, then the sun returns. That burning ball of hate and evil will pound, pound, pound Earth until the last bit moisture has been wicked away, burned to steam and then nothing. And when everything is as desiccated as it was before the rain, when it has all withered once more into an inert husk . . . then beware the spores.

And the spores don't wait for the rain to stop.  No.  I can see them piling up on my office window.  Waiting for a chance to get in.  We have duct taped all the doors and windows in my building.  Nobody has heard from the office building for hours.  I have booby-trapped my lunchbox.  When the food runs low, there will be lunch both inside AND outside of the box.

[Eater of Clowns]

GIGANTIC storm coming through, thanks to Mexico not controlling their hurricanes and letting them out of the yard.

Sky is black, we're supposed to get 6" of rain by morning, and this shit is supposed to continue until Monday night, which means we'll lose a bunch of roads.

Now you know how we feel.

EVERY DAMN YEAR.

I mean, after that little warning shot called Sandy you sent us a few years ago to see if Richter was paying attention turned and decided to have a Jersey Shore vacation it was only a matter of time before your rain divinity backfired.

The rains are coming to Arizona. A flood will spread across the land, seeping into the withered pores of the desert's skin. Sand-tainted effluvia will run deep into Tucson's mummified heart, swelling its size until it bursts like over-ripe fruit or a body left in the sun too long.

The rains are coming to Arizona. The steady drumming, the unending pummeling of the desert will cover other noises. It will mask the beating of Tucson's awakened, swollen heart. As that creaking, ancient organ squelches and contracts with renewed malevolence it will pump more vile pus into its spore making. Tucson will bloom like mold on damp walls. It will send its spores into the sewers. Into the sea. Into your lungs. And it will thrive, torpid and malicious, until the rains recede.

The rains are coming to Arizona. Everything will be covered in that metallic-sand scented slime that is Tucson's spreading disease. The rains are coming but they will not last long enough to drown Tucson. And when the rains are spent, when the sky is once more bare, then the sun returns. That burning ball of hate and evil will pound, pound, pound Earth until the last bit moisture has been wicked away, burned to steam and then nothing. And when everything is as desiccated as it was before the rain, when it has all withered once more into an inert husk . . . then beware the spores.

Damn good writing there, CPD. Damn good.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Little Susie thinks the vomit-yellow and grave-mold-green particles floating amidst the deluge look almost magical in the dim light, against a backdrop of hissing downpour. She presses her little face to the window and stares intently at the mysterious motes dancing about, turning the rain to sloppy sludge as the specks infiltrated each drop. She stares until she perceives, in the lizard portion of her brain, a malevolent sentience in each tiny fleck. Until she can not turn away. Until she can no longer resist their piercing siren wail beyond the glass.

Little Susie flings open the window, letting in the rain. And the spores. Almost instantly she becomes coated in slime. And the spores waste no time getting to know their new food source. Seeping into her skin, the spores burrow. Deeper in, down into the meat and marrow of Little Susie. Burrow until they reached Little Susie's heart.

Now her pulse is in perfect sync with Tucson's. Now Little Susie is a part of something bigger. Older.

Little Susie smiles in the mirror. She smiles with her vomit-yellow lips until her grave-mold-green eyes spark with mirth.

Then she skips off to ask Mommy for permission to go play at a friend's house. Mommy will say yes.

Mommy will do anything Little Susie asks.

Or else.