See The Boys on Prime Video for a demonstration of this power.
Not that anyone was asking, but I'm in the middle of battling a head cold and I have a massive headache.
Skull dug gurry skulduggery: Skull-Doug or E.
I'm glad everyone is enjoying the story so far! I'm still pretty new at this, so constructive criticism is definitely welcome.
Ambassador Elisa Petrov had been having a good day until now.
As Earth's ambassador to the alien polity calling themselves the Orion Arm Compact she was in charge establishing formal diplomatic relations with our new neighbors, and overseeing the various cultural and scientific exchanges that were ongoing.
Not to mention trade deals.
Today's meeting with Ambassador Hool had gone especially well. His species, the Phaan, were amphibian-analogues and enjoyed the water, so she had arranged to have the station's pool reserved for their meeting. Hool had relished being able to swim around freely, as it had been weeks since he had been in any body of water larger than the meditation pool in his quarters. As they enjoyed themselves, the discussion of trade had come up, and Elisa had told him that the biomedical exchange team had found Earth's first major food export.
Apparently, while most of the species in the Compact were carbon based, Earth foodstuffs were rather...intense. That is not to say they were inedible, mostly. Although several spices were found to be intensely toxic across a wide spectrum of species, most were perfectly safe for alien consumption in moderation. While most species COULD enjoy and metabolize them, only a few could handle the doses common to human cuisine, and some had either euphoric or hallucinogenic properties in several species.
Indian food was going to require warning labels off-planet.
However, the real problem wasn't finding alien-compatible foods for export. It was that alien farming techniques were advanced enough that they didn't really need to import food. They didn't need Terran grain or potatoes. So any exported foodstuff had to be something unique and delicious enough that everyone would want it. And the research teams had found one.
Peanut Butter.
From what the biology team leader had told her, every single carbon based species who had volunteered to taste it loved the stuff.
A lot. Almost too much.
So much that the biomedical team had gone back to double check their own work to make sure it wasn't some sort of drug, and had Compact scientists
... keep reading on reddit ➡I’m not even sure if this fits in this subreddit. I just have an opinion and I’d like to share it.
Sometimes I get this tiktok account of this mother of a kid with hydranencephaly on my tiktok fyp and it just upsets me so much.
For context, hydranencephaly is a birth deffect where parts of the brain are missing due to the cranial cavity being filled with fluid. So essentially, these kids are born and they can’t function like a normal baby and usually have a ton of health problems. I’m not sure if I’ve done enough research on this condition but I’m pretty sure every case is lethal. Also, no cure.
I’m not sure if this kid’s condition was diagnosed before he was born or until after he was born. I would have a different take if I knew the case.
It’s just so cruel to see him on fyp every once and awhile. I feel as if his mom is clout chasing off of him. Hypothetically, if she knew before he was born that he would have hydranencephaly, why are you letting this kid suffer? He literally is bedridden, can’t do basic functions like blinking, pretty sure has to be tube fed, and cannot communicate.
“Well mother’s love their kids unconditionally.” If you loved your kid, you would not let it suffer. And she’s acting like this kid could communicate to her. NAH. He’s literally missing parts of his brain that are vital for communication.
And the kid is bound to die and it’s gonna be even more tragic if it dies after being alive rather than terminating a pregnancy.
I’m not a parent and I’m not sure if I’ll ever be one in the future. I’m just a teenager with opinions. And I just can’t stand seeing people letting their kids suffer even with a choice of ending their suffering.
I met it… him… the husband, two years ago. I don't want to get sidetracked by the story of how I became (as the English call it) a mail-order bride. That story is harrowing and depressing enough in itself. The War left a lot of orphans on both sides of the new border. Many have similar stories to mine. I don't want to waste however long I've got by sharing experiences that differ little from any other girl whose childhood died in The War.
So many of us ended up press-ganged by hungry communities into going in the Russian men's vans. So many ended up here, or America, or Saudi Arabia, to share beds with disgusting men so families back home could keep coal in the furnace one more winter. A tale retold a thousand times over by every woman that's lived it.
Their stories have nothing mine does not. Where my story differs is the ending. None of those other daughters of The War ended up with someone like the husband. This I guarantee.
It called itself Mr. Danforth. The first thing it said to me when I arrived at Heathrow was "you are called Mrs. Danforth." It wasn't a question. It was a command. Despite what you're thinking, this didn't raise suspicion. I'd had very few conversations with men that didn't start with them barking orders. My first thoughts of the husband were that he would be a man like all those except Father. All I was thinking as he walked me to his SUV was "and so I go from the hands of one pig into the hands of another."
How wrong I was.
I didn't properly inspect the husband until I was in the back seat. I hadn't looked at him much in the airport. I'd kept my head down, staring at the floor, because that's what the Russian men told me to do. It took a few hours to reach the house. Plenty of time for me to stare at the husband in the rear-view mirror, to get a proper look at the man whose bed I'd been sold into. That was when alarm bells started ringing.
As the SUV trundled down increasingly less maintained roads, my mind was running through possible explanations for my new husband's face. It was rigid, stiff. None of the muscles of his wide brow or angular jaw twitched, clenched, or moved. At all. For three whole hours. His skin was off, too. Not literally, but something about it troubled me for reasons I couldn't place. I think it was the tone. The hues of his face were too uniform, too smooth. Almost the exact same shade of grey almost-peach all over. There was no ruddiness to his cheeks, no darkness under his eyes. For
... keep reading on reddit ➡A year ago, on December 4th, 2020, I had brain surgery to decompress my cranial cavity. It was a lot and regaining movement back in my head and neck was a struggle, but a great piece of knowledge came from this. The day after my surgery my surgeon told me that the surgery took longer than normal because of how dense my skull is. He explained that my bones are denser than normal and it took more to cut through them. I now understand why I have never broken a bone. I am a strong boned individual and my bones will prevail until the end of time. My bones are unbreakable, as is my spirit. I am proud to be apart of this superior strong boned community.
It's been 2 weeks since the cataclysm took hold of the world. Luckily for you, you overdid it with groceries that month so you didn't have to go out for a while. Now though, you are down to your last Springle's Can™ so you head out. Not knowing what to expect, you bring your old cricket bat with you to fend off any.. unwanted attention. As you carefully exit your downtown apartment and head down your apartment tower, you encounter a dog! As you come closer to pet it though, you get a whiff of the stench it's body emits and you just know something's not right. You try to stealthily get away but the dog notices you and runs towards you, blood flowing from it's cranial cavities!
I was just reading the post from a few days ago on Ellen Greenberg. I think people repeated some inaccurate information and made it seem much simpler than it is. This is the most in-depth article on the case and where I am taking most of the following information: https://www.inquirer.com/crime/a/ellen-greenberg-death-suicide-homicide-philadelphia-mystery-20190316.html. It provides links to some of the case documents.
-
There were no disturbances and no blood anywhere else besides the kitchen. She had no defensive wounds from the knife, and no one else left blood at the scene. That could mean it was a very fast attack, as one investigator says in the article, or it could mean there was no one to struggle against. Unusual and hard to explain whether homicide or suicide.
-
There weren't wounds to her back - there were wounds to the back of her neck, chest, stomach, and one "gash" to her scalp. My impression from comments was that she had stab wounds to her actual back and to the back of her head which of course seems hard to do logistically, but that's not where her injuries were. There were also bruises on the right side of her body.
-
Four of the wounds were deep: on her stomach, two to the back of her neck, and one to her chest. The others included wounds described as "nicks" and other described as shallow punctures. Some of these could be hesitation wounds, which would be strange in the kind of "blitz" attack that would explain the lack of a struggle. However the four deep wounds argue against suicide as would the fact that the wounds were inflicted through her clothes. The wounds are unusual for suicide AND unusual for homicide.
-
Examiners looking at her possible spinal cord injury have come to difference conclusions. Both of the examiners are highly qualified experts. The first said that the spinal cord sheath was damaged, but not cut through. They thought that the damage could have caused her to become numb (meaning she might not have felt the other wounds) but not make it impossible for her to continue. The second pathologist to examine this issue looked at a preserved piece of spinal cord and found that her cranial cavity (not sure if that is distinct in some way from the skull) had been penetrated and her spinal cord had been severed. After the final stab wound, the knife was left in her chest so if this second examination is co
I want to start by saying this: I wasn't a gangster. I don't like the word. Didn't then, still don't. I was a businessman. My business just happened to be crime.
Here's the thing though, right? I've been a straight goer for thirty years now. The old bill never managed to nick me, to catch me on the job and send me down. I got out as soon as I had enough scratch to fly off to Ibiza and stay low. That's where I'm writing to you from, my sunny bungalow while Wife #5 makes Martinis and I enjoy a Mediterranean breeze I don't deserve.
She barely speaks a word of the Queen's. I'm not too good at Spanish, neither. There's something I've wanted to get off my chest for a few years. Due to… well, the doctor advised yesterday that I cancel any long-term plans. If I don't share this now I won't get another chance. Bless Wife #5, but she ain't the ear I need on this one. I need someone who'll understand my words. All my words. I'm still wanted back home, and I don't know who in the old crowd is trustworthy these days or even still breathing, so you lot will have to do.
Now, I got up to a lot of things back in the day. More'n one fella caught a slug in the chops to pay for the years of paradise I've enjoyed. Am I guilty? Nah. That's not what this is about. I never done someone that weren't holding a shooter or a blade themselves. This ain't a remorseful confession because I don't have any. It was what it was, which was business.
This ain't about what I did but what I saw, and how I learned I'd never come close to the depravity of what real evil is. A single night, halfway through my stint as Bethnal Green's Billy Big Bollocks, the only night I wasn't the most dangerous thing in the room.
The year was 1976. I don't remember what month, but I know it was winter because I was freezing my tits off. I had three of the lads with me; Big Steve, Nicky the Shimmy-Shaker, and Screwloose. Big Steve's name was ironic. He was a little fella, barely over 5ft, but he had a mean kick and wasn't afraid to kneecap anyone dumb enough to cross me. Gangling awkward Nicky was known as the Shimmy-Shaker because of the way he'd bump and fumble into oblivious tourists and walk away with their wallet/jewelry/etc. Young Nicky was good in a scrap, and of all the firm he was the one whose loyalty I never questioned. As for Screwloose… well, you only get a name like Screwloose one way, and that's why he only came out on jobs like this one. The big jobs, the ones where you know it's
... keep reading on reddit ➡The match begins like any other match. You rush into battle thoughtlessly. Your wrinkle free brain sends primal signals to the rest of your ape body. You’re not even playing Donkey Kong. Or are you? You can’t remember. “Doesn’t matter. Dash attack.” The words don't even enter your mind before you execute the worst first decision you could have made.
In three swift strikes you find yourself four feet deep in the Wii Fit omega form’s guts. Before your sweaty thumbs can twitch to mash out of your earthly prison, two knees at the business end of a flawless bridge pose enter your cranial cavity; sending you reeling backwards.
For the first time in years, a spark of intelligence ignites within you. The wonder of thought is like discovering an oasis after years in the desert, drinking cactus water and eating scorpions. “Maybe I shou-“ you don’t get to finish your long-awaited first higher thought before you catch a glimpse of a taut posterior in yoga pants blacker than the void itself. Two magnificent feet propel themselves into your chest, sending you on a one-way trip the blast zone.
You return to life, completely oblivious to the fate that befell you. That spark you felt before, a dying ember. You return to monke. Before you know it, another stock has been woefully taken from you. Wait, how?
You try to recall. Your mind strains, blood vessels pop, two of your final four brain cells fry. The remaining two fight to the death. Finally, only your strongest brain cell remains. You can see clearly. How could you have missed it this whole time?
But it’s too late. It’s your final stock. “How did I get off stage?” Your singular brain cell wonders to itself before directing your attention upwards. Divinity becomes you, and you see the light. An alabaster goddess flies so high above you.
You utter your last words, “Step on me, mommy.” To your surprise, the higher being blesses you with a response. Like the very horns of rapture in your ear, she cries out “Let’s stretch our legs!” You hurtle at breakneck speeds downwards, not into the blast zone, but the bowels of hell.
“Thank you.” You whimper. Home -> X -> A
You are finally at peace.
I don't want to step on anybody's toes here, but the amount of non-dad jokes here in this subreddit really annoys me. First of all, dad jokes CAN be NSFW, it clearly says so in the sub rules. Secondly, it doesn't automatically make it a dad joke if it's from a conversation between you and your child. Most importantly, the jokes that your CHILDREN tell YOU are not dad jokes. The point of a dad joke is that it's so cheesy only a dad who's trying to be funny would make such a joke. That's it. They are stupid plays on words, lame puns and so on. There has to be a clever pun or wordplay for it to be considered a dad joke.
Again, to all the fellow dads, I apologise if I'm sounding too harsh. But I just needed to get it off my chest.
Hello doctors and group community. I'm a 43 yo, 5'1", 155 lbs, mom of 2. Here seekung advice regarding a penial glad cyst 9mm. Doctor said it was common and no follow-up needed. I went decades with undiagnosed celiac disease, premature ovsrian failure, endometriosis, psoriatic arthritis, fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, depression and anxiety. I had two incidences where I seem to pass out without explanation. Carpal tunnel, brain fog, nerve damage, easy bruising, trouble sleeping, and many other symptoms that can fit many of my conditions continue although I am taking humira and have recently been on prednisone for a flare the rheumatologist believes was brought on by the covid shot and flu shot. I've had injections in my l5 disc and M scheduling to go back for the second after 5 months of relative relief. Not sure how much more detail I need to give here but I was born very premature. I was less than 2 and 1/2 lb when born. Was the doctor right to write off the 9 mm cyst? I've had some very good doctors but a lot of bad ones who have dismissed my symptoms over the years. Trying to do due diligence and follow-up with things that weren't even mentioned to me in post a visit regarding my MRI. Thanks for any help you can give. To be honest the fatigue is the worst thing of all. Even the sometimes it's cruciating pain is nothing compared to how tired I am.
MRI report below. It was done to check for signs of MS and fluid build up in ears and hearing loss due to what they thought was a result of allergies.
Jubie
History: Bilateral upper and lower extremity paresthesias.
Technique: MRI of the brain was performed according to cranial nerve protocol utilizing sagittal T1, axial FLAIR, axial diffusion, axial gradient echo and enhanced axial T1-weighted images of the brain. Axial CISS, unenhanced, enhanced thin section fat-saturated coronal T1-weighted, thin section axial T1-weighted images through the skull base were also obtained. 7.5 cc of Gadavist injected intravenously.
Comparison: None.
Findings: There is no acute hemorrhage, mass or acute major vascular distribution infarction. Cerebral volume is age-appropriate. The ventricular system is normal in position. There is no mass effect or shift of midline.
There is an approximately 9 mm cyst in the pineal region, most compatible with a simple pineal cyst.
There is no mass or pathologic enhancement in the internal auditory canals bilaterally on at the skull base. The cavernous sinuses are symmetric.
... keep reading on reddit ➡Part Eleven: Life’s Value
Chak stirs awake, glancing around the unknown bedroom. It takes her only a short panicked moment to remember where she is before she clutches her chest to calm down. She has spent so much time on the ship that despite the pleasant surroundings, it is anything but to wake up to.
Releasing herself from the silky blanket she sits up and shakes herself to loosen her slumber stiffness. She dons her communicator and Lens, reflectively checking her messages.
There are twenty four responses from local Terran specialist and generalist counseling agencies. Although the words vary a bit, all bear the same unfortunate rejection. The prime reasoning being how vague Chak’s request has been. For obvious reasons she can’t just proclaim who she is, or who Simone is for that matter. Second being there are a very few non-Deathworlders who are trained to handle Terrans, and none wish to be dispatched on a ‘potentially hazardous’ position despite the high payment offered.
Finding a qualified individual is proving to be a much more challenging endeavor than Chak first figured. Especially now with the additional risks of appealing to less… official organisations.
Then Chak comes across another message that isn’t a response, rather it’s unprompted. A bit dubious as to how someone managed to get her secured Net address, Chak reads it;
‘Greetings,
It has come to my attention that you are seeking an individual to be a professional Terran mental therapy counselor. From what I can tell, it’s an extraordinarily mobile position that may prove to be fairly perilous. The vagueness of your presented situation is concerning as well. However, I see the pay takes all this into account.
The prospect of danger does not excite me. Yet I request an interview for the position. Although I’m not associated with any Terran education training programs I am a fully licenced psychologist that has spent years studying Terrans. I apologize that I can’t yet say how I received your Net address, and I understand any mistrust that may cause. However I owe a great debt, and I believe taking your offered position will be the first step in paying it. I could be wrong, but perhaps the stars have aligned on me.
*An additional matter that may unfortunately complicate possible negotiations is I have an associate that is also looking for employment. I humbly request that they have a chance to present their case, I can personally vouch for their capabilities and
... keep reading on reddit ➡now i hear you typing, "format," you ask, "why do you say that?" well, that would be because i am fairly certain i've successfully demolished and killed off the one thing in my life that actually kept me going.
and i've tried, i really have. i have tried everything in my damn power to reassure the demons in my abyss of a skull that everything is better than they believe -- trust me, everyone has said so -- but here i am, fairly certain i have successfully crashed the one relationship i genuinely felt, successfully earned the title "freeloader", and successfully obtained the nickname of "asshole".
do i have solid reasoning? no, not at all! and i know that i don't. but because the hellspawn within my cranial cavity like to shoot the logical person i usually am in the leg, call him less worthless than the gum you found on your shoe while cleaning the cow shit off it, then tell him to piss up a rope while they scream obscenities and usher me to off myself, here i am for night two of fuck-all trying to keep calm mid-panic attack so that it doesnt turn into a late-night visit to the ER after i decided a zzzquil smoothie sounded really good all of a sudden.
and to top it all off, i haven't even the slightest amount of energy to fix it. it's been two years since i last felt like this, and i've forgotten how to mask, how to cope, and how to make it seem like i'm a functioning human being while i think of all the ways i could get a game over in reality, no continues.
tune in next time when we discuss thr futility of man and the attempts to figure out the brain!
Alot of great jokes get posted here! However just because you have a joke, doesn't mean it's a dad joke.
THIS IS NOT ABOUT NSFW, THIS IS ABOUT LONG JOKES, BLONDE JOKES, SEXUAL JOKES, KNOCK KNOCK JOKES, POLITICAL JOKES, ETC BEING POSTED IN A DAD JOKE SUB
Try telling these sexual jokes that get posted here, to your kid and see how your spouse likes it.. if that goes well, Try telling one of your friends kid about your sex life being like Coca cola, first it was normal, than light and now zero , and see if the parents are OK with you telling their kid the "dad joke"
I'm not even referencing the NSFW, I'm saying Dad jokes are corny, and sometimes painful, not sexual
So check out r/jokes for all types of jokes
r/unclejokes for dirty jokes
r/3amjokes for real weird and alot of OC
r/cleandadjokes If your really sick of seeing not dad jokes in r/dadjokes
Punchline !
Edit: this is not a post about NSFW , This is about jokes, knock knock jokes, blonde jokes, political jokes etc being posted in a dad joke sub
Edit 2: don't touch the thermostat
Do your worst!
How the hell am I suppose to know when it’s raining in Sweden?
like why is IMS like this
Ants don’t even have the concept fathers, let alone a good dad joke. Keep r/ants out of my r/dadjokes.
But no, seriously. I understand rule 7 is great to have intelligent discussion, but sometimes it feels like 1 in 10 posts here is someone getting upset about the jokes on this sub. Let the mods deal with it, they regulate the sub.
