That Joke Lost All Context A Decade Ago

I’m always prone to thinking of historical people as existing in one specific time and nowhere else, even when I know that’s not true

In 1850, there were still plenty of people who would have remembered the Revolutionary War

People who were born during it would have been around later than 1870.

There were people alive then, coexisting with them, who would go on to own televisions later in their lives

and this isn’t a hypothetical “samurai faxing lincoln” sort of deal

in fact, here’s a guy who actually saw Abe Lincoln, was old enough to remember it, AND went on television

many great homophones out there. none better than wanton/wonton

"the wonton excess" bro how many

"I'll have the wanton soup" righteo how slutty should it be?

when I eat a wonton: wonton destruction

Glitches In The Halo by Andrew Blucha

that footage of the CEO getting shot is axtually pretty sweet and the guy is a hero tbh. lets bring assassinating CEOs energy to 2025

CNN kept being like "this COLD BLOODED MURDER of CEO blah blah blah" like look at me with a straight face and tell me the CEO of an american health insurance company is not a mass murderer. The amount of blood that drenched this man's hands could drown us all in a red ocean of human suffering, idgaf

So to execute people without trial or due process, we just need to attribute other people's suffering to them?

Right. Very communist of you. I'm sure this is a mindset that has never and will never be abused.

shut the fuck up you absolute dweeb

Damn lol they deactivated fast

Okay but seriously, vigilante violence without accountability is genuinely a bad thing. It is infinitely preferable to have a properly functioning justice system through which people can and would prefer to have their grievances addressed.

But.

What is so much worse than vigilante violence without accountability is systemic violence without accountability. The most prolific vigilante in the world, hell the most prolific serial killer in the world, could not kill as many people per day as the CEO of United Healthcare is responsible for.

Because UHC has 157,000,000 "customers". I put customers in quotes because I am technically a UHC customer through my employer, but this is not a decision I have any say in or literally any alternative options to. The US mortality rate is about 257 out of 100,000 people per year. The average mortality rate in OECD nations (when people talk about "first world" nation statistics this is often what they mean) is 215 out of 100,000. And about 90% of deaths are due to medical issues as opposed to accidents. (Speaking of which, did you know more than 10% of deaths these days are from covid? Fucking hells.)

Now if you mutiply by 0.9 and subtract the OECD average from the United States average and, that very roughly gets you the proportion of deaths in the United States due to medical differences between the United States and other first world countries. If you multiply that by the number of UHC customers, you get about 60,000 people dying of preventable causes a year.

60,000 totally preventable deaths a year

Now the existence of United Healthcare is not the only difference at play here, there are poverty differences, exercise differences, diet differences, sleep differences. But studies are pretty unanimous that the strongest controlling factor for health is not exercise or diet or even sleep, it's quality of and access to healthcare. Even insofar as poverty controls for health, that's mostly as a determining factor of stress, diet, sleep, and *healthcare access*. So we might generouslh say that UHC is responsible for only half of those deaths. 30,000 people a year.

If even 1% of that is the CEO's personal fault, he killed about a person a day for profit.

That's not even getting into those impoverished and left destitute. If we had a justice system which treated violence appropriately, which had consequences for the murder of one's fellow human for personal reasons, the CEO of UHC would have been tried at the Hague and hanged until dead.

And the excuse that he was only acting as shareholder pressure dictates? That's just the "I was only following orders" excuse except somehow even thinner. Because wcan recognize that a military officer under direct orders from high command has a moral duty to not comply with crimes against humanity, and that they can be executed for such crimes regardless. And the idea that a company executive who took a voluntary position, making decisions about how to benefit shareholders economically, explicitly for personal profit, is somehow less responsible for the death they cause than a military officer in war is just absurd.

The sheer scale of injustice here is difficult to even imagine. Every day that these health insurance executives go without being tried at the Hague is an astonishing affront to justice.

So when somebody says that vigilante violence is bad, and that it would be bad if the CEO's killer got away? Forgive me if I just don't take it that seriously. Unless they've been advocating every day for the criminal justice system to see the executives of every private health care company in the United States brought to justice, I think maybe they're concern isn't actually about appropriate societally stabilizing justice for violence. I think it's maybe just a desire for things to feel stable and normal and not like a powder keg about to explode.

But let's be honest. If a powder keg is about to explode? It's because of a lack of justice for systemic violence, not vigilante violence.

me every day without fail: I'll do [chore] when I get home

me when I get home:

me every single week: I'll do it on the weekend!

me the entire weekend:

all of us rn

i spent an insane amount of time trying to make that gif on my phone lmao please validate me 🥲

Out of Touch Advent

The divine right of kings but it's a curse

You will wear the crown, you have no choice, the spikes growing on your head have a metal sheen to them and coalesce into a mock halo. You will command, for your voice is a terrible thing, you are a terrible thing. You will be just, and you will be fair, for any grievances you cause to your people scar your body and leave lasting pain and false promises sizzle on your tongue like hot oil. Your god is watching and it won't forget what your ancestor did and it won't let you go

You earned this when you were born. You were groomed for the throne since before you can remember: given lessons in fairness, taught the difference between right and wrong, and punished for your mistakes. "If we do not punish you now for these mistakes, God will punish you worse when you make them in the future."

"Does God hate us?"

"God works in mysterious ways." So, yes, you gather.

Your father is the king. He is a wretched old man. You do not know how old he is and you refuse to ask. You are afraid the number may be much lower than you think. His hair is grey where it still remains and his skin is rippled with scars. When he looks at you all you can see is pain. You do not look forward to your turn on the throne, no matter how much your family and friends and people tell you it is a blessing.

The crown he wears is a permenent fixture. The thorns have been sitting atop his head so long that they have grown into his skull. His halo, as the people call it. The thorns to represent his past mistakes and the ring to represent his fairness and justness in old age. He is beloved; you know this. He does not seem to know this.

When he dies, his funeral is closed casket. "Death is a sin. God has punished his body for succumbing too soon."

"Does God hate us?"

"Hush now. Your father is lucky, he has been forgiven. He is in heaven with God, as is the rite of the king." So, yes, you figure.

You recieve the crown next. The thorns have been pried from your fathers skull. Sometimes you think you can still see his blood crusted on the thin metal spikes. You know enough to realize that the metal is plating; the thing itself is much too light to be solid gold. Perhaps God has mercy on you after all. He has spared you from the heavy burden of a solid crown.

Years tick by. You make mistakes you were never taught about, and God punishes you accordingly. A deal goes wrong with a neighbouring kingdom and you wake up in the night with agonizing fire scorching the fingers you pointed. A village goes without enough food for a week and your stomach acid rises to sizzle and scar your throat. You can feel yourself getting older much faster than you would have liked to.

You meet a wife. Despite all of your desperate attempts to avoid such a thing, God blesses you with a son. Your wife is pleased. You want to throw yourself into the firey pits of hell. She tells you that your son will not make such mistakes as you have made. You vaguely recall the same being said to your father about you.

The crown digs holes into your skull.

With a voice that crackles at the edges and stings to use, you sing your son to sleep every night. As he grows older you tell him stories about kings before you who were righteous and kind. "Like you, papa?"

"If you think so."

"Why does God punish you?"

"For my mistakes. It is the duty of a king."

"Why do you have to be king?"

"Because I was born for it. Just as you were born to be king after me."

"Do you like being king?"

"That is not for me to say."

"Does God hate us?"

"God works in mysterious ways." So, yes, you now know for sure. And you think he knows as well.

"Well, if you did not like being king... Could you stop?"

You have no answer, so you tuck him into his bed; kiss his forehead with your cracked, scarred lips; and tell him to sleep soundly. The question never leaves your mind.

As you live, and as you grow older and more damaged, you think. You think every second of every day about the question you had not been smart enough to ask as a child. What if you had refused to step up? What if being king was not for you? What if being king is not for him? Could you stop? Could he stop? Could your father have stopped?

Your son develops an interest in academia. He loves to read. Your wife insists he focus on his studies for kingship, but he would prefer to read about the stars. You sneak him away to your study so he may enjoy his youth in the way you were never allowed. In the way you were never brave enough to insist upon.

You need to protect him from the fate that this god has placed upon you and your family. A curse is what it is, you decide, rather than a blessing. You begin to speak of this curse and your wife calls you mad. After all, it must be a blessing that your family is so well off. It must be a blessing that such a fair and just king has been appointed. Your mistakes and subsequent punishments have made you strong, or so she tells you. You feel weaker than ever.

You do not stop talking about the curse. Your wife becomes angry with you and scolds you, telling you to watch your mouth in front of your son. He is impressionable, and he cannot be fed such lies as this. "He must become king. Who else could?"

"Anyone. Anyone else but him."

"You are a selfish man. Look at all that God has given you, and you scorn him with talk of a curse. You should be ashamed."

"You would rather our son look like me?"

"My son will not make your mistakes."

"Just as I did not make my fathers."

"He will be better."

"Do you think God hates us?"

"God works-"

"-in mysterious ways. His methods are mysterious, but his intentions are clear. He means to make us suffer. He means to make my son suffer." A tear escapes your eye. You are so filled with grief. You imagine your father must have felt similarly.

"You would question God?"

"I would question anyone who would bring harm to my child. He will not be king. He will never have this crown."

"You have no say in that. You will die and the crown will be passed to him."

In a fit of rage, you reach up and grasp the crown in your hand. The thing is embedded deeply into your head, and now as you grip it the thorns embed themselves into your hands. Your wife shrieks as she sees you impale yourself through the calloused skin and thick flesh of your hand. Your grip does not waver. You grip hard and you yank the crown off of your head. Blood dribbles in streams down your face, falling past your eyebrow and into your eye. A searing pain shoots through your head, but you can not bring yourself to care.

With your other hand, you grip the other side of the crown and impale that one too. One haughty tug is all it takes to break the thing in two. You throw each half to either side of you. Something black and thick oozes out of the hollow gold and splatters against the walls where each half hits them.

Your wife looks horrified. You feel dizzy. "That crown will not be burden to anyone ever again. It never belonged to us."

"You are a mad man. I have married a mad man!"

"And you are a blind woman. Retrieve my medic immediately, or I will walk out of this room myself and find him. Perhaps you would like our son to see what a king looks like after being driven mad."

She runs and does not return. Your medic rushes in to treat your wounds and get you something to drink. Your head feels so much lighter now. You think the crown carried more weight than you had originally suspected. Everything is so clear now.

You realize the next day that your wife has left for good. In the night, while you rested, she had her belongings packed away and driven off somewhere. You do not care to know where. You find your son awake in your study when you pull yourself from your bed in the morning.

He looks up at you from the spread pages of a star map hidden away inside one of his favorite books. His eyes travel up to your bandaged head. You can tell he has been crying. You do not know what to say.

"Mother left last night."

"Yes. Yes, I know."

"She told me she will not be coming back."

"You spoke to her?"

"She spoke to me. Did you destroy the crown?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Does that mean you are no longer king?"

"I am not sure." You move further into the room and turn your eyes down to the star map that covers the majority of your desk. "Did you want to be king?"

"No."

"I thought not."

"Did you want to be king?"

You hesitate. "No."

"I thought not."

You smile. "I did not think I had a choice."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You do now."

He smiles. "You broke the curse."

"I believe I did, yes."

"And mother was angry at you for doing so."

"She believes the curse to have been a blessing."

"She was blind."

"I told her as much."

"Does God hate us?"

You think for a moment. "I believe God was always giving us a choice. But blind faith clouded the vision of those who came before us."

"Who will be king after you pass?"

"I do not know. I will give the people the choice."

"You would let the people choose?"

"I would let the people choose before a God who has never lived among us."

"And if the people choose wrong?"

"Then that is a lesson learned by man for man. Not a lesson learned by man for God."

"I think there has never been a wiser king than you. Even if some may think you to be mad."

"Wiser men than me shall come. You are one of them."

He smiles again and you turn your eyes back up to him. He looks at you with an adoration that you finally feel you deserve.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Come help me make breakfast. My hands are otherwise occupied."

HEY I LOVE THIS

In 1967 the government discovered that specific syllable structures combined with specific vocal tones and ultra-low-frequency sounds could speed up the process of unconscious internalization by over 1500%. This became particularly useful for teaching low-level employees large amounts of information, as "hypnophonic learning" could be done while the subject was asleep.

Hypnophone use became standard for new employees of the IRS and SEC, as it made large scale memorization of tax code and financial law significantly cheaper and easier than traditional conscious education.

However, long term use causes the subjects long term memory to atrophy, requiring nightly repetitions of hypnophone use. Some enterprising employees found that the effects could be counteracted with low dosages of LSD to preserve neuroplasticity.

Roughly 1 in 7 employees encountered a strange phenomenon: Mild financial clairvoyance.

One in roughly 50 employees experienced more significant effects, generally those ensconced in large isolated IRS warehouses, which seemed to replicate the monastic lifestyles of historical sages, depriving subjects of ordinary stimuli in favor of becoming attuned to minute changes in the sub-finantial background grid.

Once it was learned that these "enlightened" employees could predict market trends before they happened, the technology was bathed in funding, patented, and made the soul property of the IRS.

Now, these "Plutophants" are kept in nigh-perfect sensory deprivation at all times, fed a constant hypnotic fugue stream of psychic conditioning in the form of "radiosonic neuro-induction" which contains a special form of the United States Tax Code modified for recursive hypnophonic induction, as well as a ticker tape wired directly into the users spine.

The effects achieved are nothing short of stunning. The invisible hand is no longer invisible to us. The market can be fine tuned with surgical precision. The price of bread has maintained a perfect 0.002% +/- variance for over 25 years now, and those who attempt to disrupt the guidelines are regulated by the SECs crack psychonautics division, who are now able to hunt market manipulation via their disruption in the financial dreamscape.

Very rarely, a Plutophant can become so attuned to the guidelines that they achieve a sort of catastrophic neuro-depatterning, their synapses begin to produce a counter-signal to the neuro-induction frequencies; jamming, and eventually overpowering the machine. Study is still ongoing, but it is believed that they somehow perpetuate their own neurological fingerprint into the financial causal background grid itself, literally becoming "one with the market."

Study is ongoing.

every single photo I see of Kirby, the baby Asian elephant born at Houston Zoo, is absolutely killing me

this thing is so delightful. i love it.

I look upon this weird little freak (affectionate) and am immediately reminded of this post:

Love how whenever the baby is done with an item they just fucking throw it

I got this while scrolling on instagram to try to convince me to join threads and I—

We did it. We finally saved her.

In the Middle Ages there were retellings of Orpheus and Eurydice where she did get out. See the tale of Sir Orfeo.

Who has the post about how the myth changed because Christ conquered death?

@flannelunderpants

link to post

I think it's really important to contextualize Christianity in this way, because all the horrors and abuses that followed make a lot more sense when we realize they were committed because hopeful people gave institutions power and giving that power had side-effects.

Ancient Romans were people who were deeply religiously tolerant because their religious universe revolved not around policing people's thoughts or opinions, but maintaining stories (mythic stories) and religious customs as a local way of fulfilling spiritual needs, offering solace, and so on.

In the Roman cosmology, the Gods pursue mortals in wrath or lust but judge those same mortals by standards that the gods don't play by. So from a religious Romans point of view, the emperor, who in death becomes a god, is above the law, above moral judgment, to a certain extent.

This way of thinking was really common in the ancient world:

The Greeks (whose mythology strongly influenced the Romans and many of whom converted to early Christianity) didn't have god-emperor's, but Greek rulers would beseech the gods, consult the Oracle of Delphi, etc. and if someone like Socrates questioned how people lived and acted and how political decisions were made, he could be sentenced to death on religious charges.

The Egyptians, a big Roman trading partner and at times a Roman vassal state, also had a "son of the god Horus" as their ruler, so the laws passed by the pharaoh are divine, they reflect the will of the gods, they reflect the laws of nature, to plot treason against the state is to fight the forces that weigh the "souls" of people after death and remove the bad elements.

In Mesopotamia, across thousands of years, people in both north and south paid all their taxes to the temples and the temples made decisions for how the state would spend those taxes. Taxes and government were intimately connected to the gods in the same way. And the gods were not accountable to the same high standards that mortals were judged by: in the epic of Gilgamesh, Enkidu is sentenced to death by Inanna because (to cut a long story short) Gilgamesh refuses to date her.

In that context, gods whose domain are the mountains or fields or the seas or wartime represent the fickle forces around us. The ocean gives and takes away. So the god who rules the oceans gives and takes away. That god follows no moral law, simply guards over your actions. Polytheism almost always implies gods that don't themselves act virtuously.

To draw a comparison: as an atheist, I'm more than familiar with all the bad things god does in the bible. Such as drowning the entire world instead of using his almighty-ness to turn bad people good. But it's notable that the book doesn't portray this as "ah well, us mortals have to suffer at the hand of powers greater than ourselves, that's the way the world works, we have no right to complain" and instead it portrays it as "people absolutely sucked and then God fixed that problem." Now obviously I have some serious misgiving about how god supposedly fixed the problem, but that doesn't change that if forced to choose between stories where Zeus punishes human adulterers with zero self-awareness and the sin flood, I think in relative terms I prefer the sin flood. God is this sexless, wise old being, portrayed in terms of a genuine commitment of making the world better in the end. Do I like the Zoroastrian version (where the creator is currently unable to stop all evil but if we try hard to make the world a better place the forces of good will be all-powerful in the end) more? Absolutely. No theodicy there.

But yeah, I think we need to remember where this (horrible) religion came from. How much it did for women's rights at the time. How much it did in increasing awareness of social injustice at the time. How even invasive practices like confession served as more sophisticated forms of public surveys than what existed in Rome and allowed the church to practice certain forms of intervention to try and address social problems. When we realize that the medieval monastery protected travelers on the roads and provided all kinds of services to the public, we realize that the church back then was kind of like ...if the progressive movement with its social goals of helping people (but with some bad, toxic baggage) eventually morphed into the medieval equivalent of silicon valley (where illiterate people get to send someone a letter with the help of a monk...but why are they illiterate in the first place?...) and then eventually, the whole institution started to fall apart and have less and less interesting things to say, because the centrally positive approach towards social change (we should care how other people act and what they think, we should commit people to making the world better) had given rise to dogmatically asserting positions whose positive origin was either lost to time or the result of institutional interests or personal biases to begin with.

Perhaps one day, Orpheus and Eurydice lead each other out of every cave.

I got this while scrolling on instagram to try to convince me to join threads and I—

We did it. We finally saved her.

In the Middle Ages there were retellings of Orpheus and Eurydice where she did get out. See the tale of Sir Orfeo.

Who has the post about how the myth changed because Christ conquered death?

@flannelunderpants

link to post

"i have the right of way" was a form of protective charm uttered by urban travellers in the early 21st century. They believed this phrase acted as a ward against danger and injury, invoking the divine spirit of 'Traffic Law', one of their primary deities.

This is a common misconception. "Right of way" was not a charm against injury, but rather a curse wishing ruin upon those who injure you. It was often invoked in Small Claims Court, a sort of gladiatorial arena in which champions would battle on behalf of the aggrieved.