Removed by mod

Removed by mod

And Pizza the Hutt

Bring back the Oilers!

I discovered Batman as a kid watching Adam West reruns. She’s amazing and remains one of my favorite versions. She came back in the role about ten years ago in two 60s theme animated movies with West and Ward and they’re worth the watch.

What is this, a cave for bats?

Detroit add lions to their defense. Denver rushes while mounted. Chicago doubles down on drafting large, hirsute men for their team.

Batman: “Leave me alone, I have to beat up a clown.”

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After the collapse of civilization, the people who tell stories around the campfire with the aid of a slide projector will be wizards.

I love a good slow build that ends with what would otherwise be a dad joke level punchline, and that one’s 🔥.

I really miss Zeke. I converted a walk-in closet into a good sized aviary and only trimmed his flight feathers to the point he couldn’t fully “fly” but could safely enjoy himself in the environment he lived in. But most of the time he had full access to the house and yard. He was a such a big personality. I had three dogs and a cat at the time, and he’d own his own begging at the dinner table for a treat next to all of them and nobody, despite the size difference, ever fucked with him. I loved our mutual grooming, stroking his feathers and him nuzzling through my hair.

I’m stoked that this year I’m in a place where I could get chickens. They’re not parrots but they’re scratching that “I like being around birds” itch. Out of my four gals I have one that wants to be my gal, one who is curious, one who’s maybe, and my little “idk but you feed me”.

A woman is deep in the throes of labor, bringing her first child into the world. “Push, push,” the doctor tells her as the baby’s head appears. “One more big one,” he exclaims; she cries out and obliges.

The doctor gently cradles the new arrival, moves to hand it to the mother, her tears of pain turning to tears of joy as she reaches for her baby. But suddenly, the doctor grasps it by the ankles and begins to bash it against the end table.

The mother screams, begs him to stop as he punches it, bites it, slams it against a wall. But her cries are ignored while he tosses around like a dog with a rat. Exhausted he finally hands it to her.

“I’m just foolin’. It was already dead.”

Many years ago when I did stand-up I tried to come up with a better take on the “dead baby joke”. The foundation isn’t mine, but the delivery was. It was one of my best bits and I get that it’s not funny in the classic sense but in the “Jesus Fucking Christ!” sense.

I had a rescue cockatoo that was probably in his 40s or 50s when I got him. He’d had a rough life, possibly a wild capture before he entered the pet trade. Never spoke if I was watching, but if he thought I was gone would babble to himself in English, Spanish, and a third that might have been another language or gibberish, never figured it out. He used to love to try and mate with my girlfriend’s head.

While I agree that parrots shouldn’t be bred to be pets, since that’s an industry that currently isn’t going to get ended any time soon, your love, skill, and dedication would make you an excellent rescuer. There’s a lot of older birds who’ve had shit lives and deserve the remainder of their years living with someone who cares.

I’d expect Cattle Decap level deathgrind or some Hot Topic grade incelcore with shit solos and too many calls to “open this fucking pit up”, no inbetween.

Once we liberate the animals from the factory farms we load up dump trucks filled with manure and bury them alive in it. Asphyxiate on the fumes of a few tons of chicken shit or drown in it, idc.

Explains why my gay friend always looked so intrigued when I asked if he wanted to go Dutch but then disappointed when it was splitting the bill.

I think that’s one of those situations where religion starts to creep in as a myth goes from tall tale and hope to belief system. A culture that values bravery, integrity, loyalty creates an ideal afterlife where that’s rewarded, but also has two problems. For one, Odin isn’t a perfect example of those values. He’ll be that most of the time, but he fights to win and not every win comes cleanly. He knows it, we know it; sometimes you have to fight dirty. He’s not all powerful and can’t beat fate anymore than we can. Which is the second problem. No mortal can be guaranteed of their death. Go to war often and you increase your chance of dying in battle, but some drown on the way there when the ship sinks (Rán’s cut), some die shitting their brains out from dysentery, some die days after the battle is over from infection, and some make it through to age out naturally. And just like Odin trying to stave off his fate at Valhalla, most people don’t actually want to die any time soon. Glorious death in your twenties sounds glorious when it’s a rousing bard’s tale, but also, getting to live a full life that’s not one violent day after another is nice too.

I’m also not actually convinced Valhalla is a reward. Strip away the “glory” and it’s an endless cycle of party/die until the day Ragnarok can no longer be held off and then everyone goes to a battle that their team, including Odin, is fated to lose. Norse Hel actually sounds like the better afterlife. Quiet, comfortable, reunited with ancestors. I’ve often wondered what parts of the myth/belief system have been lost. Freyja gets a cut of the war dead and should have an army to rival Odin’s, but we don’t know precisely why she gets that or her plans for them, what their afterlife is like, and she’s conspicuously missing at Ragnarok. Thor gets a small mention of taking humans in at Bilskirnir, but again, no details except it doesn’t appear he requires them to be warriors; forever the god of the average people.

I look at it the same way I look at all religion; wishful thinking on the part of mortal creatures aware of their own mortality, but I do find it interesting to see how they develop and rewrite it over the years when “it’s like this” collides with “well, that guy didn’t meet the requirements but we want to think he’s there”. And despite my joke about “no Christians in Valhalla”, Odin doesn’t require fealty or mortal submission, he takes dead warriors for his doomsday meat shield. Haakon the Good was Christian but the bards wrote him into a seat at Valhalla. The rules of murderers and oath-breakers get the lowest Hel also seem quite flexible. Erik Bloodaxe was a murderous, fratricidal, oath-breaker whose violence was exceptional even in a violent time; he got in.

Glory to you and your house!