The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: OPEN BAR: NO CISNORMATIVE ELVEN PATRIARCHS ALLOWED« on: April 19, 2015, 05:44:11 am »
I'm looking forward to reading about it, Dok.
PD.com: We occur at random among your children.
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Today I applied for a program that, if I get in, will make me eligible for funding that would pay me a wage for the time I spend in the lab working on my neurogenesis project, which would be awesome because that would make me that much more likely to have a publishable paper by the end of next year.
Descending colon filled with bees
Things I hate: When people ask me how it's going and then make suggestions that start with "why don't you...". What is that? I didn't ask for advice. You asked for an update. If I knew that was going to be a lead-in to a conversation in which I'm explaining why I don't do the thing you're suggesting, I would have given a curt one-word answer and cut that shit off at the pass.
yea, the scary bit is that people can justify that type of shit using just your average standard out of the box human brain. A CEO that exploits child labor to make obscene profits probably isnt a sociopath, at least as it applies to people he actually knows. He probably has plenty of empathy for people he knows and works with and considers part of his "tribe". the problem is that your average human brain can only fit about 200 or so people in this tribe mentality and everyone else doesnt really seem like a person as far as our moral decision making goes. outside of our own little monkeysphere, people seem less like people and more like an idea of people, which is a lot easier to throw under the bus for profit when compared to your buddy Steve.
Ok, I think this helps.
It all started pleasantly enough. Yesterday, the shadow grew again. Strange shapes blackened the sky. The walls kept changing color. There’s something outside the window. Her eyes widened in anticipation. It was an insular community. We thought they were dead. But they were dead, yesterday… There wasn’t time to scream.
The sun didn’t rise today. No one sees color here. They don’t remember the difference. It is inside the house. That night, I wasn’t alone. A voice said, “You die”. There shouldn’t be visitors tonight. Didn’t I lock this door?
I spoke into the silence. “I’m not usually like this. I can’t feel my legs.”
She said, “I got this.” She had too many teeth. Time slowed to a stop. “This won’t hurt a bit.” The anesthesia didn’t quite work. The scab came off again. It had been an eye. Below, rows of sharp teeth. I think those are teeth. “It’s curable, for a price.”
My voice seemed far away. “I can’t find the baby. I have these horrible urges.”
“They know, they just don’t care.” Her eyes followed the wound. “This isn’t my real face.”
But there was no face…
Man, I kinda wish being white and rich made it impossible to be mentally ill.
I would feel a lot better about most politicians.
"Just developed some pictures - need to make a book - kind of like Mappelthorpe, only more personal"
I also have tentative support for my security contractor gig (whereupon I will assess security, and get paid for it, and tell them it sucks, and recommend the position of Security Director, which I will be the most qualified for, and thus will be appointed to).
I mean, it's early days yet. But it could happen.