You’re not the first to get bit. Or to have this lemmy bug happen to you.

Nah, the real difference? Pollution. In general, airborne pollution up high reflects red light and absorbs blue light. Vivid sunrises and sunsets are often found near cities for a reason.

I’m surprised you haven’t seen the db meme where goku discovers bulma doesn’t have a penis. https://breezewiki.com/dragonball/wiki/No_Balls! https://i.makeagif.com/media/8-14-2015/Wyri6k.gif

Ugh, I didn’t even think to check, but that’s a pretty bare history. I’ve noticed some shitty questions lately, like the generic reddit drivel the other day about ‘what do you miss about pre-internet?’

Humorously, hospitals really don’t want you to die when you’re there. It’s a lot of paperwork. Nothing kicks the social worker or case manager into overdrive like the doctor saying there is much less than 6 months left to live on the hospice paperwork.

But if you dip each bit of that value in butter…

But it works! Supposedly. Don’t poke holes in the JC penney story.

is this why i’ve been remembering shit that other people say never happened? or remembering something people said and then them saying they said something different?

I mean, if you want the real answer, it’s just that it is incredibly easy to create false memories. Then add in all the social pressure fun that can warp your viewpoint, and you’re off to the races.

Ugh, I remember that one. Despicable doesn’t even begin to describe the person or the people that enable the behavior.

Lol, why not? Go tell your local politician to do that. It’s such a good idea that they’ll listen and do it.

When I’m sick and hack up a large wad of mucus, it’s much easier to spit it out. Considering that the collection of fluids op may be talking about is mostly mucus, it’s similarly easier to spit than swallow.

Probably a reaver’s.

:0

Maybe you weren’t, but in the places they were born they were quite massive. Enough that the rules officially said you could be banned for it.

Let me tell you the story of what you’re looking at. Once upon a time, that area was part of a larger spread with a nice home for its time (not pictured) where the farmer lived. As family sizes lessened and the children moved off to the city or were sent off and didn’t return from their war, the farmer split his property into smaller lots of a few acres, and either gave them to the children that were around now, flush with money in the post war era, or sold them as per a lot of advice from the locals who called him friend. The nice house where he lived was given to the most loved child, who promised to keep the farm running on the side, but only if it was smaller so it could still be done in between the normal day job (where he was probably the owner, using the booming economy as they all did to start businesses that didn’t need to be amazing to succeed).

Eventually, those smaller lots had houses built in the style of simple rustic cabins because the timber was sourced locally, cheaply, and it was the style of the time. The folks moving in were the last of the generation of big families, where small towns were continually expanding. They were still able to get jobs nearby (within an hour or two for most) that paid well enough. They had enough free time and the knowledge (or help from friends with knowledge) to keep the roof up and the wiring neat.

Now we fast forward 30 years. A depression has hit. The kids are grown up, and needing a place to stay. Their jobs don’t pay quite well enough to get a complete house and land. Maybe one or two will move away to a city where the opportunities exist. One of the various lots will have a family with a business that is still successful. Maybe it grows enough that both kids can work in the business and survive. But this house? This house (and tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands, more in the county) has a different story. The family business was sold. Maybe one of the kids became an addict. The family won’t spread like ‘usual.’ So one will keep living in the house. Off to the side of the picture, about fifty yards, is a doublewide trailer where the other lives. Some of those situations will stabilize. The doublewide will be taken care of, the older house will be refitted with better insulation, appliances, expanded in some areas.

But we can see what will happen the vast majority of the time. It’s 30 years later, again. The nearby factory closed up, the interstate rerouted traffic from the old highway, and the area stagnated. Now, 25 yards out of the picture, is a towed trailer with a bed and sink that the grandkid lives in. A second trailer is tucked under the tree that grew behind the doublewide, where Danny, the other grandchild, and Leslie, his on-again, off-again baby momma, can be heard screaming at each other every night. The house has decayed now, it’s interior slowly filled with bric-a-brac that is refused to be thrown out because it has the nostalgia of when they didn’t worry about money every day. The toilets haven’t been replaced in 45 years; the refrigerator is precariously leaning because the side was hastily patched with plastic and jb weld and the foot can’t be put back or the weak plastic will break. The window curtains rotted, and they put up the garbage bags to keep the sun out, and then realized it also kept the wind from blowing rain inside. Sometimes, the well pump doesn’t like to run, so they collect what water they can just in case.

Meanwhile, that nice farmhouse? It still sits on several dozen acres, or might even be part of a mostly functional ranch now (because ag exemptions mean low taxes!). The few hundred in the county have been mostly sold though, as the rich want to find a place “away from the city” and its ‘crime’ and ‘dirty air.’ The ones that are still lived in are the few remaining businessmen, who now have all the restaurants, remaining stores, and often run the local part of an oil and gas company.

Ninety percent of the local politicians live in those houses. Sometimes a few small positions will come from the weird, not-quite-urban neighborhoods that were built just outside of the county seat’s city limits. And those politicians? They tell the people who live in the house pictured that trump will bring back the factory jobs, and improve their lives, and they sit back and laugh all the way to the bank.

So, yes, this is where humans live. The corruption of the system is built from the ground up. When poverty is the majority the corrupt have a large amount of power, and they love it. And this is the majority. Get off the main highway in any rural county, and it’s just like the picture, but stacked in rows of hundreds. Just look at satellite imagery outside of urban areas.

I know I haven’t the best memory to simply name them off, but I know I have played games like that already. Maybe not in the boss focused rpg style, but enough that they wouldn’t really appeal on their own. But something like kingdom come or the witcher, but with all the goodness of elden ring bosses? I’d be down for that.

I’d be pretty happy with just a ‘realistic’ dark souls setting. The wild views were great in the various games, but now give me a perfectly rendered recreation of actual castles and medieval villages to romp through, with the occasional huge reptile ripping through a village’s eastern quarter as I race to the well to raise the bucket of water that is its only weakness.

I’m pretty sure that’s just the average modern zombie game. Everyone of them has a mall level.

Aye, it’s cheaper to keep’yer little peeper cub in its plane sleeper, and just have two cars for either end. Tiny planes are relatively cheap and could be afforded on an upper middle class salary like an engineer, mid-tier lawyer, or software coder, much the same way as a second car.

I mean, maybe that’s not true anymore with how wages have been suppressed while costs have risen, but it was the last time I saw flying cars being seriously discussed.

I don’t remember who said it, but I’ve always remembered the best description of the whole process as: “my body is punishing me for not being pregnant.”

Always gets a sympathetic groan.

That’s odd, because it’s the exact opposite in my experience. I know of at least two friends who went to a vet and their ‘dog’ was diagnosed with back pain and a drug prescribed for it, because the price of the animal’s drug was wildly cheaper.