Wait, how does AI get smarter inside a simulation, Elon? Holler when the shit is capable of speaking my language.

When your consciousness is saying, “Fuck my life,” because it’s incorrectly translated your subconscious… which has actually been saying, “Fuck me.”

When the window walks away

When you realize that your attitude modulates every observation before it even reaches your consciousness.

When you’ve disabled cross posting to Micro.blog and Mastodon for the month of April just to find out what the Plausible Analytics snapshot will look like in comparison to the month of March.

Also, nothing is infinitely recyclable on account of entropy.

When you realize that without omniscience, it is all trial and error.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around an exclusionary democracy. I guess, once you make the cut, you’re enfranchised. I guess you simplify the sorting by conflating religion, race and citizenship. All you need are sides I guess, and a way to force fuckers to choose.

Oh, bless your little heart, Tom Rogers. ‘A’ for effort, I guess. Time to switch to anime.

When David Corn has finally asked the right question, three and a half years after you’d asked it (and two some years after you’d answered it).

When you realize the most accurate measurement of intelligence is taken while the subject is interpreting, not while they are projecting, things within the shared reality.

Seems to be snowing on #MorningJoe this morning, so many snowflakes.

When you’re choosing between being the asshole that hasn’t bothered checking cross post platforms for the past year to see whether anyone engaged and being the asshole cross posting for the past year without a single engagement.

Donald Trump didn’t do that to this country, we did it to ourselves mister pass the buck.

The youngest children have already died of malnutrition.

I wonder what the split screen would look like for conservatives were it possible to glimpse a world in which the Lincoln Project had pivoted, as I’d posited three years ago, away from the politics-as-usual media op that specializes in gotcha-theater (entirely fruitless within a dual reality democracy) into the Lincoln Party… as a way to, you know, provide representation for all the Earth One conservatives currently sans.

You don’t have to follow me
Only you can set you free

When you’re peeved it’s gonna be the new biographical tripe essay (this is what you get for thinking up something clever while driving home and being all, “I could call it Someone Check My Math.” The GD thing will write itself) that draws you back in.

Lizard-locked lemmings

Raise your hand if you toss little four finger waves to the slow/stop stick spinning road repair fellas ‘cause the job has gotta suck and you appreciate somebody doing that shit.

Empty words

I wouldn’t begin to know which would be yin and which yang; but, I fucking hate being out of balance so here goes… having already established you can’t run on a crutch, you can’t run with a fractured fucking foot either. How happily might you lay up your life while your calcium deposits replenish?

When showering is a fucking accomplishment.

When you realize it’s been twenty years or so since you’ve had a friend’s phone number in your phone (or a friend for that matter).

If our bodies are tuning our neural nets each night by applying patches as our cells are repaired, then fuck whoever it was that set me up without version control.