Don’t be a devil’s advocate. Devils can advocate for themselves.

I had to post three or four warnings to my friend group that said, “The following is not a cry for help, I promise I’m fine” before I posted this.

Worth it.

In the US south, we also call horse shit ‘horse apples.’ That’s pretty cool, that the translation persisted.

I immediately thought of an Everlasting Gay. Like the Everlasting Gobstopper.

I get what you’re going for, but maybe work on the wording? Because my immediate thought was, alright, you lay on the ground and I’ll drop a nuclear bomb, and let’s see which was more destructive.

My favorite move there when someone points out thing that contradict is to say, “Yes. That’s what you were told.” Imply there’s something mysterious to uncover about why those facts don’t gel.

Alternatively: “I’m giving you the real history. That’s not what your character knows to be true!”

This is a glorious save. Well done.

Also those new movies were a lot more fun than they had any right to be.

This joke is made all the better by the character’s name being Dr. Kalgary.

It’s just flickering static. You’re not missing out. :)

Not even crow’s feet.

I do a facial once a week. I do microdermabrasion once a week. I can’t stress enough that I hate the sun. I’m sorry if that isn’t your experience, but it happens. I’d share a picture of my face, but I’m trying not to completely dox myself.

Eta: And lots of water. Gotta drink lots of water.

“I’m scared,” says Ralph.

But I am an author, and take control of this story. Ralph does not understand fear. His existence was short, his history nonexistent, his understanding of the world and his place within it unreal, characterized by the agony of going from non-being, to screaming awareness all in an instant.

The author has returned Ralph to the imaginary realm from which he sprang, freeing him, and any unwitting victims who witnessed his short, confusing reality.

Truly, the only monster here was the first narrator, a casual god who created Ralph only to serve as an instrument of suffering.

See this is another matter. I don’t have wrinkles, but I went gray before I turned 20.

I know you’re claiming it’s not possible but I’m 38, I’ve done mostly night shifts and stayed out of the sun, I moisturize religiously and have since I was a teen, and I don’t smoke and barely drink (ADHD meds don’t play nice with alcohol).

I’m wrinkle-free.

Now compare to my sister, a few years older than me, used to tan growing up by laying out and getting a sunburn, has smoked since we were teens. Insanely wrinkled. Big, deep wrinkles.

This happens. I think the other person was being flippant and dismissive but… it happens!

God, thank you. I have a long history of trauma such that ‘jokes’ about an unfun, unhealthy life aren’t fucking funny when they could be a cry for help in ‘joke’ form. I’d much rather offer someone who’s ‘joking’ the support they might be too afraid to ask for than to ‘laugh’ at a ‘joke’ about a bad time.

I don’t know why others don’t but I’ll say why I do, which is that I noticed people were remembering my username whether I had an image or not, so why not have an image? And it was early days, still is, so I figured… may as well be the first static.

This is entirely alien to me, and I can’t understand it, but… As long as you’re happy? I hope you are. For the most part, at least. If someone insisted on talking at me for long periods I’d lose my dang mind.

I hope you’re joking when you say your marriage is hell. If you’re not, maybe consider not being married? You deserve to not live in hell.

Naw, just ADHD and my eyes jumped to the shortest bullet first.

You needed five points to get to saying you don’t know what I’m talking about?