Jake

If MB were here I’d sentence you to the zoo for that.

No it’s just nice wholesome antics with Coop and the gang, nothing sinister going on!!

If you need a nice, simple palate cleaner after that, I recommend binging Twin Peaks: The Return.

between sharks and spades you are in a sad pickle and peril, poor lad

[Materializing out of nowhere] um actually we live in a republic not a democracy 🤓

Shout out to Rachel Dawes. If she doesn’t distract the Joker, Sen. Pat Leahy is killed. VT Gov. Douglas (R) appoints GOP replacement in 2008. Only 59 Dem Senators in 2009. No Obamacare.

“Why don’t they perform Handel’s Messiah but skip the Hallelujah Chorus?”

Atheists still can’t explain this.

No?

I think the best thing for young disaffected men would be if we brought back bronze age corvée labor. If a guy watches too many andrew tate videos he gets put on a list and conscripted to build The Ziggurat. They would have so much fun doing that and I think it would improve their mental health

Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor.

Once more. Say, you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries—stand that man,

Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?

They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand—miles of them—leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues—north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite.

B ut look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No.

tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they hear?

Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster—

Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall, northward. What do you see?—Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries.

which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.

There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs—commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme down-town is the Battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes,

all. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

pecially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and b

y I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and es

Hey, I just met you/
And this is crazy/
But here’s my number/
So call me Ishmael. Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a wa

my favorite bluesky arguments are the long drawn-out ones where person a responds via direct reply and person b exclusively answers through quote-posts. it's like seeing two people arguing on the street with one person facing sideways and shouting into the open door of a baskin robbins

Hank is still learning but this is the funniest thing a TV character has said.

im begging you to listen to how this fox news host pronounces “authoritarianism”

Anyway my advice frustrated young men is to take a cold shower and read the Bible. Go get a gym membership or join a monetary or something, I don’t care. This is not my problem!

IMO the main reason “the left doesn’t have anything to say about men not getting laid” is that isn’t a political issue and there’s no reason to get life coaching from a political commentator.