Biden’s Bike-fall

Is not news. Dude fell off a bike. I fall on my skis all the time.

There’s a bit of amusement because he set up a photo op, and it went wrong. I get it, and eh, it is a little amusing to see someone in power with a carefully scripted appearance flub something. But that is it. Of problems with Biden, that isn’t one.

AO3

So if I click on something, it takes several minutes, as much as an hour, for the hit count to update. It’s probably operating on a tick system.

The Autopian

Is having a meet-up in a Walmart parking lot.

Again.

Earlier this week, someone posted something about buying a dumpster-fire of a car, and I legit could not guess who wrote it until I checked the byline.

They most definitely have a brand.

Spam

People send me spam all the time. I’m going to send some back.

Ladies, men like potatoes. Why don’t you have a man? Because you have no potatoes! You need potatoes! You get potatoes, you get man, other women think you’re beautiful.

Potatoes!

Send me your bank information.

Evil

If evil exists, it either is or its primary symptom is a cancerous development of the self. A calcification of the difference between the me and everyone and everything else.

This is likely why sports, art, and joy are so powerful. In the moment a sports team wins, we lose the self in joy. In appreciating a book or song, we lose the self. Joy is a feeling utterly separate from being a self.

That’s why fiction and creative fantasy is inherently a good thing. When something doesn’t exist and the reader enjoys it, the reader becomes that selfless, open entity for just a moment, and erodes natural walls. The calcification of the self dissolves. Joy returns.

Thoughts

I tend to think in writing, perhaps because it’s difficult for me. Writing something out makes me slow down and take it bit by bit.

I’m a big fan of Mercedes Streeter, and she’s at the Autopian now. That’s good. That’s a big deal.