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The idea of a national split is pretty openly talked about again these days, honestly. I don't know that I'd necessarily disagree with the idea.

YouTube video by Louie Zong ghost cowboys 👻🏜️

www.youtube.com/watch?v=djr6...

All the long, long years of humans trying to understand the universe, to master it. Useless. You know that in the pit of your soul as you stare into the garish sunglasses of Marquis Forneus, of the Lords Below.

He casually raises a novelty tiki glass and takes a long drink. Huh. A Mai Tai.

See, he didn't get there. He has no history. Ten seconds ago, he, quite literally, did not exist. His body, which is quite real thank you, was not even assembled from floating subatomic particles artisanally sourced from anywhere in the universe.

Some...thing...simply flexed its will, and he WAS.

The snake-skinned 'man' now standing directly across the bar from you, wearing an INCREDIBLY loud hawiian shirt, surf trunks, flip-flops, and large sunglasses, is horrifying proof of this in a way that would make most physicists kill themselves out of despair at the futility of their life's work.

The hard blocks of matter that we conceive of can, and do, simply pop in and out of existence, in accordance with, we comfortingly lie to ourselves, some kind of mathematical model that we just don't understand yet.

We lie that the universe is, in short, "real" as we understand it.

It is not.

The entire idea of time having these tiny divisible units, for instance, depends on time more or less existing in a stable fashion across the universe, and the horrifying and mind-shattering truth is that it doesn't. Time's flow in one defined unit of space is not the same as it is in another.

The science that men cling to is a comforting, beautiful, and useful, lie. See, once you dig down far enough into those minimalist expressions from which all else supposedly arises by what's essentially algorithms for god, what you discover is that none of... well, anything, really IS.

If you were a physicist in, say, 2025, you would know that time, like most things, can be reduced down to minimalist expressions. For instance, 1.0x(10 to the negative 44th power) is the smallest unit of time that makes any sense. That matter is made of impossibly tiny hard blocks.

This is wrong.

"So're you a pet zombie or a pet demon, then?" You drunkenly (and thus wisely) continue to antagonize the supernatural being who is almost certainly MUCH more powerful than yourself, "I can smell the magic. The sea and... hm. Baking bread? Ovens. So you're Marquis Forneus?"

The dead snake sighs.

"Look," you turn your head to face the tiny dead snake living in a bottle of alcohol up on the shelf, "We've established you can hear me, yes?"

The corpse refuses to look at you, staring ahead as if it were dead. Which most corpses ARE, but you have a tiny zombie journalist in your pocket.

VACATION DESTINATIONS: You're about halfway through the pitcher of margaritas down at the Drunken Sea Serpent when it belatedly occurs to you that the drink you have in your hand right now won't be invented for another 200+ years. You sigh heavily and put your head on the bar. Fucking time travel.

Men are generally smaller, and then become temporarily larger. Mario just uses mushrooms for this.

zion national park, springdale, utah, 1987

zion national park, springdale, utah, 1987

I, too, show off my enormous cans at the beach.

Thankfully, if there's one thing your lifetime of adventure in the wild west has taught you, it's that every good quest starts the same way:

By getting as drunk as you physically can while still standing upright, because adventurer shit is usually fucking terrifying.

To the bar!

If you're going to head back up there, you're going to need to know EXACTLY what it is you want, and have a good reason for her to let you in. But for right now... information gathering. Now that you know what's up, you figure you'll see more details you previously glossed over around town.

You figure that heading back to Chastity's library immediately with your new understanding is both simultaneously a good and terrible idea- you're sure that the documents you need ARE there, but you don't yet fully know what it is you're looking for, and she seemed... unhappy... with your last talk.

Every last one of these innocent-looking, smiling, happy people has bargained away their soul. For decades they have, somehow, avoided paying the piper. And now your arrival, equally somehow, has fucked up the delicate balancing act involved and started some sort of chain reaction.

VACATION DESTINATIONS: You walk to the top of the conveniently nearby and appropriately dramatically placed hill, and look out over the village. Everything you've learned has lead to you one, inescapable conclusion:

Every

Single

Person

in Solomon's Manor has summoned and bound a demonic prince.

Large tortoise wearing jorts and a tiny black cowboy hat

🎃 October 15 🎃
Urban cowboy

Or hell. Where they send you after I do that depends on how naughty you've been.

"Asphyxiation that the defendant must have realized would endanger the victim" according to the court proceedings 🙄

Hiram has that! Or at least he says its not just a regular cowboy hat. Pretty sure the only way to test it is to wear it in a collapsing mine.

He won't actually be 12". They always lie.

Oooh, thank you!

Is there a more high-res version of this available? I'm kind of interested in the recipes.

Best old western theme park area ever, completely unironically.

We've heard many women say that one man or another has a rare tongue, Guard!

It was literally illegal in many places, both in the US and globally, for a long time.