Reddit admins started getting quite a bit more fashy banning people for even just upvoting certain stuff. I got caught up in that and hit with a bullshit temp ban, then before it got lifted on appeal I got hit with a total bullshit perma ban. It was also lifted on appeal, but by that point I was fed up and went looking for alternatives. I still use reddit a tiny bit, mostly posting questions on subs there when there isn’t a community here or there is but it has like 12 members and hasn’t seen a post in 3 months or whatever.

lol, thanks, on both counts. :)

I just don’t pay that much attention to celebrities, I don’t give a shit about all the BS around being famous, I don’t care about their opinions on literally anything, etc, so even if I had heroes they wouldn’t be celebrities.

Yeah I don’t really either. I dunno why my brain cooked all this up, like I’ve never had a dream that picked up where it had left off the previous night, so these dreams weren’t one rolling into the next, they were kind of like living in this town at various points, separated by years or even decades, during certain key events. It’s weird.

Usually pick one of their own == have never not picked one of their own, right?

…

I’m disabled so I spend like 16 hours a day in my chair, but I try to do 30 minutes on my exercise bike every morning.

Because only cardinals can be pope and it takes a long time to work your way up through the priesthood into administration and such like any organization. Also, unlike most businesses or governments they never hire some young(-ish) new ceo or department head from outside.

I had a series of dreams over the course of about 15 years that all took place in some (presumably fictional) town. I don’t really remember most of them anymore save the last one (which involved the FBI building a huge facility on the east side of town because they were investigating everyone in town for some reason, along with some more nefarious stuff.)

But what’s weird is that, more than a decade since the last dream, I still remember numerous very clear details about that town. I can tell you which streets I’ve lived on in it, who my neighbors were, what kind of vehicles they drove, where they worked or went to school, even stuff like the fact that my neighbor to the west (on the corner) in the 2nd house I lived in had an 11 year old son named Bobby who had Down’s syndrome. It’s like I lived there for years and years and knew everyone (it’s a pretty small town), only none of it or them actually exists outside of my brain.

I once dreamed that I was going to visit my parents and their neighborhood had turned into a cross between a zombie apocalypse and a warzone, there were gangs running around cutting people up in the streets and shit. I was dodging all these crazy people and managed to find one house that looked normal amidst the choas and carnage and was hiding behind a tree in the yard when some guy came up to me and was like ‘Oh hey mister, you don’t want to be hiding here, the folks who live here don’t take kindly to that sort of thing.’ Come to find out the house was owned by my parents, and when the guy found out that’s who I came to visit he was like ‘Oh shit you’re with them?! All of this is their fault! Fuck you man!’ and tried to attack me, but I woke up.

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I used to have very intense, vivid dreams when I was younger, some of them were like watching a movie. I remember most of them still, but one in particular sticks with me.

I dreamed about these monsters called blood-bats that were ~3’ tall, squat, red-skinned, winged monsters with 3 big black claws on each hand. They would claw people and leave long, white lines on their flesh, draining them of blood and also the will to live. I dreamed I had gone to Marrakesh (for some reason) and the streets were filled with people who all had these marks on their arms or chest or whatever, and they were all just shuffling around like they were zombies, staring at the ground, etc. They were all kind of moving in one direction, so I pushed through the crowd in that direction and eventually discovered a palace that appeared to be their destination. Inside the palace was this long, wide great hall that was lined by these little booths that each had a priest of some religion or other in it. The people were all lining up to go into the booth of their choosing where they would kneel on a small carpet, the priest would bless them, and they would collapse and a pair of orderlies would put them in a body bag and carry them away.

I was determined to find out what was really going on here, why all these people appeared to be grimly shuffling off to their ultimate demise, so I skipped out of the line and found myself in an elevator. As the elevator started going down one of the creatures came in through the hatch in the ceiling and attacked me, but I managed to fight it off without getting clawed and it fled. Pretty soon the elevator stopped and the door opened and I found myself in this vast open warehouse-like structure filled with thousands of hospital beds, each one with one of these creatures on it. There was an old man pushing a cart around from bed to bed checking on them. I approached and asked him what the shit was going on and he explained that these creatures were from another dimension, that they traveled between dimensions hunting sapient life to drain as a food source. The way they hop dimensions is they make someone where they want to go dream about them - usually only a few at most - and then when that person wakes up the ones they dreamed of would exist in that reality.

As soon as the old man finished telling me this I realized that I was dreaming and was about to wake up, only I wasn’t dreaming about 3-4 of these guys, I was dreaming about the entire race. In those hazy few seconds between being fully engaged in the dream and fully awake I was frantically searching around both the dreamscape and my bedroom for anything sharp that I could use to kill myself before I woke up and brought all of them here. Fortunately reality reasserted itself in pretty short order, but that handful of seconds might’ve been the most scared I’ve ever been.

The Heavy / Short Change Hero. I just discovered them a couple weeks ago and this song has been stuck in my head ever since. I do 30 minutes on the exercise bike every morning and I just put that song on and belt out the lyrics to it at like 6:30am, much to the dismay of everyone else in the house, but they can suck it cause that song is just so goddamned singable.

Listen, as someone who has been through this many times over the years, take it from me: psychoactive meds are a real mixed bag, they take time to work, they often have bad side effects, and it sucks cycling through a new one every few months feeling hopeless and like none of this is doing any good. Then, months or years down the road, you finally land on the one that works for you and it’s like someone flipped a switch and suddenly you feel like everyone around you does and it’s so worth all the pain you’ve been through dealing with horrible side effects and such. I dunno what your experience has been, but it might be worth trying to get back on the path? Cause it sounds like you aren’t doing too good without it.

Haha, yep. My very first linux install I had to do similar because I had a fucky video card that X11 didn’t support natively, ultimately I had to, er, acquire a commercial X server that did support it to make it work. It was a mess.

Aww, does the poor little baby want to go home and have a cry about it?

Fair enough. He is indeed a colossal shitbird.

It’s not my argument, read the article (emphasis added):

Many historians say the bombings did not lead to the Japanese surrender, and the Soviet declaration of war on Japan two days later was a bigger shock.

But yeah I know Truman green-lit the use of the bombs as a means to intimidate the USSR, but there’s an awful lot of backsplanation that went on after the bombings to justify their use as vital to saving American lives by pushing Japan to surrender, when the US government knew from intercepted diplomatic communiques and such that Japan had been feeling out options for surrender prior to that.

Also it didn’t really work on the Russians either, since they had their own nuclear program that had its first test in 1949.

Ah, that makes sense. I mean, broken clocks and all that, ya know? If it results in the accurate time being told, even if only for a moment, I’m not going to turn my nose up at it.

Fair point. I’m kinda new to all this.