Deep beneath the surface of Terminus, drug-using cultists prophesy the appearance of a robot messiah who will restore humanity to a golden age...
The Kwisatz Radioshack.
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That’s all well and good, but I want safeguards in place to keep my splorn.
Adobe's Generative AI just informed me that my novel The Chaos Court has a major character named Liss DrowKuill. Spoiler: Spoiler:
There is not. It's like... I can handle being replaced by machines, really. I reconciled myself to that in the movie theater in 1984 about halfway through Terminator. What chaps my meatbag hide is being replaced by an incompetent machine. Liss DrowKuill... I'm not looking forward to when it replaces my physician. And tries to remove my splorn. *wanders off muttering imprecations*
Massanutten, Virginia, up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It’s gorgeous up there right now—all the fall leaves are in full color*. How was the swim meet? *EDIT: I also turned several different colors while racing. That was less beautiful.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAL!
Welp, I survived the race. Saw a black bear on the trail. He looked appalled, as if thinking: "What the hell is that wheezing monkey doing on my mountain? Sounds like it's dying. I better stay over here in case it's contagious." All in all, it went better than expected. The mountain was tough, the slopes steep, the obstacles covered in fine slick mist. Managed to get up to middle of the pack by the finish, which is up from dead last three years ago, so progress! Now I'm going to lay here on the couch and softly moan until I pass out.
Good luck to your son!
My ego wrote another check my body can't cash. Got a Spartan race this Saturday up in Virginia. It's on a ski mountain so the terrain look heinous. 10k with ~900 meters of climbing (6.2 miles at 3000 feet for those of us whose cars still get 40 rods to the hogshead and that's the way we likes it.) I'm hoping to pass more of the obstacles than before, I've been trying to get better at that. Less falling off of things. We'll see. It'll be fun. For some given definition of fun.
For the first time I failed the skill check during the final Hellknight trial. All the Hellknights, including Regill, immediately went aggressive. Since I was playing a Gold Dragon with the merged Angel spellbook it went... predictably. The best part was Regill's last words were: "Our strategy... may have been in error."
I'd watch that mash-up. AI! Make it so!
Ugh. Sorry to hear it, Cal.
Frolicking through the woodlands like an autumnal sprite! ... I've been told to cease and desist my woodland sprite frolicking, as it is upsetting children and people with delicate constitutions. So instead I will be wandering around the woods like a portly asthmatic black bear in search of a Wendy's dumpster to scavenge from. Also, because for the 22nd year in a row I have lost the argument that we call them 'leaves' because you are supposed to 'leave' them where they fall, I will be dusting off the ole rake and jabbing it at nature for a couple hours.
I just remembered that when that video first hit the internet like, seven different friends sent it to me on the same day with some variant on: "Hey! This guy sounds like you!" *strokes chin thoughtfully* It was a more elegant tactic, from a more civilized age...
Woot! Sounds awesome! Leeeeeeroy JENKINS!!!!!
The worst part about the Bronze Age was everybody came in third.
How was the game, Cal?
WOOT! Rolling dice and killin stuff is the best! The local art museum is having an outdoor showing of the anime Metropolis tomorrow night, going to see that with a friend. Unless the nor'easter washes the night out, in which case I'll stay inside and wonder what happened to the 'th'. My working theory is the wind was high enough to blow it away, but there's some evidence the meteorologists dropped it in their haste to express how bad the storm will be. Other than that, not much excitement round Quibble Acres.
Best. Treehouse of Horrors. Ever.
Aside from listening to The Life of a Showgirl a few dozen times? :) Not too much on the docket. The dogs are going to demand a nice long walk after last weekend's washout. They make a compelling case. I need to do something fun--the past few weekends have been all about tedious chores and I could do with some frivolity. Maybe minigolf. But, like, tee off like it's real golf. There has to be a putt-putt course round here I haven't been banned from...
As a kid I was ink-stained something like 80% of my school time. Pens exploded a lot around me. Mysterious. Now I know why...I switched from traditional pens to ballpens as soon as I could, and more recently to fineliners and gel pens. I've managed to explode them all. I was like Firestarter only with ink. Not the best mutant superpower to have, but I guess they can't all be cool and cinematic.
As a kid I was ink-stained something like 80% of my school time. Pens exploded a lot around me. Mysterious. Now I know why...
Veni, vidi, vhini "I came, I saw, I complained to a manager." -Julius Karen
I appreciate that. I'm fairly sure my phone can probably manage some kind of notification... hmmm... iVenge... that seems like a legit app I should totally install...
If I get swept away in a flash flood, avenge me. AVENGE MEEEE!Um... how? Like, who do I get angry at that I can do something against? Cuz I'll do it, just you wait and see. I think obviously the culprit here is hydrogen. Sure, sure, you could argue that oxygen is the big atom in the molecule, but I really think if we just wipe out all the hydrogen, the flash flooding will take care of itself. It'll take some time and maybe a little money, but if something's worth doing right, it's worth destroying 90% of the atoms in the visible universe.
Sometimes critters just make poor life decisions.At the wolf center, the wolf enclosure would occasionally have a turkey fly into it. What they were thinking I have NO idea, but the only reason we knew it was happening was there would be a perfectly circular blast crater of turkey feathers down, feathers, big feathers like a fireball template...
My couch is haunted. That's right: I've got an upholsterygeist.
Apparently it's going to rain nigh-on forever this weekend. Not going to stop me from hiking. If I get swept away in a flash flood, avenge me. AVENGE MEEEE! Other than that, not sure what's happening. There's a big old pile of entropy sitting around I probably should do something about. But that sounds like... effort...
In his dying moments, Jean-Luc Picard realizes that his entire life—indeed, the lives of everyone in his universe—is just a product of Tommy Westphall’s holodeck.
Proposed national agenda: Ship Florida’s alligators to Oregon to cull the population of renegade cows.
The only thing I would do is build giant robots. Good thing I bought Old Glory Insurance!
Florida woman punches alligator to rescue her dog It feels like this is no longer even weird. Like, it's a typical Tuesday in Florida. You can't walk down the street there without seeing someone yell "FLUFFY NOOO!" and then punch a gator with a leash hanging out of the corner of its jaw.
There's a woman at the EV charging station smoking a cigarette and it's taking all my self control not to yell: "PUT THAT THING OUT YOU FOOL! DO YOU WANT TO BLOW US ALL UP?!"
Is there a term for taking a nap inside a nap? Like... napception? Because that's what I want to do this weekend.
*slow clap* That was impressive.
Right? Even the whole time I was writing the email, it was hard not to hear it sarcastically. "Thanks for doing such a great job. No, I really mean it. This is not trolling. Seriously." Still sounds like trolling. :)
Follow-up to the DMV story. I have a friend who works for the state department of transportation. So I texted him "Hey, I've been trying to figure out who I can email to tell them what a great job the DMV did." *lengthy pause* "I've literally never had anyone ask that question. Let me ask around." *four hours later* "I've talked to a bunch of people and no one else has ever had anyone ask where someone can say something nice about the DMV. There apparently is no way to do that. Here's a direct email address of a guy, but we're all pretty confused by the request to be honest."
In the series finale, the Taylors' beloved neighbor and dispenser of wisdom finally reveals his face... a volleyball with Kip Wilson's handprint on it.
I had to run to the DMV unexpectedly today. And I have to say: They do a great job. Everyone likes to dunk on them, but I've always had a fine experience. It took 20 minutes from the time I walked in to the time I walked out. Hell, I couldn't get that kind of service at a chain hardware store or Best Buy. Now I'm spending my afternoon figuring out if there's somewhere I can post a positive review of the experience because dammit, things are actually pretty good. Other than that, not quite sure what's on the agenda. Going to run through the woods tomorrow morning. Like, on a trail intentionally, not because I'm being chased by a ax-wielding maniac or anything. I don't run fast enough for them kind of shenanigans. I gotta get caught up on some writing, since mid-week had a lot of distractions to deal with. I'm working on a novel where Harry Houdini and H.P. Lovecraft team up to fight eldritch horrors in 1920s America. First part's up on the Wattpad if that's a thing anyone has (under a pen-name, which I use for the pulpier stuff I write). I'm having fun with it, which is a nice change. I got burned out after the last novel and last year was dry creatively. So it's nice to be enjoying it again.
Tamriel is doomed when, after Jean-Luc Picard is murdered by cultists of Mehrunes Dagon, his illegitimate son Boromir can't find anyone to run errands for him because the Dragonborn is killed by guards for the crime of accidentally picking up an apple that didn't belong to them during a dragon attack. Weep for the future, Na'toth. Weep for us all.
I had a Starfinder vesk once who'd slept through xenobiology class and wasn't up to speed on other species' anatomy. He'd also slept through xenocultures and missed out a whole unit on galactic collquialisms. YSOKI (to bad guys currently firing on us): Kiss my ass!
BACKGROUND: The party is trapped in an insane asylum where eldritch horrors are running amok. They enter the institution’s library and the walls are covered in Yellow Signs (not mechanically active, but still Yellow Signs.) A single inmate is in the center of the room… doing what Multiple Miggs was doing in Silence of the Lambs. PLAYER: Great. A public hasturbater.
*debeverages*
Revolting Tangles sounds like a Marxist barber shop.
Grinding In the Backyard would be a good name for Emo Tween Drama's first single.
Emo Tween Drama would be a great name for a band.
Wooo! Have a great start to the new campaign, Cal! Glad to hear you're stepping back behind the screen. Crush the PCs! Drive them before you! Hear the weeping and lamentation of their snacks!
Glowing possums would be awesome... I wish I had a top tier genetic engineering lab and about 500 unpaid interns. Not for the first time. Not for the first time today. EDIT: I miss Veridian Dynamics.
Garrett Morris, original SNL cast member, experiences a surprising late-career surge of viral Internet fame doing ASMR for the Hard of Hearing.
That hasn't been my experience at all. PF1 Disarm: AoO provoked by trying to pick up weapon. Or disarmer uses move action to pick up weapon. Or disarmed opponent uses unarmed strike which provokes AoO. Or wizard casts mage hand from across room to move weapon out of reach of disarmed opponent. Or... or... or... the list of situational outcomes is long and varied. PF2 Disarm: -1 penalty to attack for an action if they take the action or for the round if they don't. This sums up my experience with pretty much every aspect of PF1 vs. PF2. I prefer the former experience. I know there are people who prefer the latter. It's a matter of taste.
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