Thordros [he/him, comrade/them]

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Joined 4 years ago
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Cake day: July 26th, 2020

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  • Outside of this Internet Melee, I’ve (WELL ACTUALLY) been struggling with this same dilemma with my youngest kid. We’re both autistic so this is an extremely fun topic!

    Where do we draw line between doing a bit, sincerity, and just lying for fun?

    Caveat: We’ve both been awake for two whole days right now. (Thanks, heritable sleep disorders!)

    I don’t remember what question I wanted to ask here, or how it related to this discussion. I’m just stream of consciousness typing words while I attempt to explain to another kid why Zack Snyder’s Watchmen is worth watching, with the explicit understanding that 0.00% of the characters are good people, let alone HEROES.

    Anyway, America sucks and Palestine deserves freedom. Okay Google, press the REPLY button.






  • My girlfriend in the early 90’s was a Croat refugee after the USSR got couped. Her family fled so that the newly emboldened fascists in Yugoslavia didn’t murder them.

    We met working at customer service job for an overseas company. She would always tell me that she works twice as hard here as she did back home; and we don’t even get paid enough to live here.

    That’s a real person with real first-hand experience of the before-and-after of the Soviet Union dissolved. I can text her right now. Your pee-paw’s pee-paw in law who lost his plantation to the people can come at me if he wants to talk. But I doubt they’re even alive still; assuming they existed in the first place.





  • I honestly couldn’t tell you exactly which game that hooked me for life. My first exposure was when I spent summers with my grandparents on their farm.

    Grandpa and I would ride his trike out to the fields, and we’d… do stuff? To the plants? I don’t really remember the work.

    I do remember that work ended at noon, and we zipped into town on the trike. And we went to the pub. Grandpa would get me a root beer, and we’d split a poutine. Then he’d give me a roll of coins. I can go nuts on the arcade machines, he can have way too many beers, and WE DON’T TELL GRANDMA.

    Anyway, a half century later I’m a recovering alcoholic. Good times!