Doug

“Credit where it’s due,” shut the fuck up you fucking fascist piece of shit. Goddamn I hate this man. This man can kick rocks and push daisies.

I was just competing with my friend who was way smarter than me. I plateaued once he moved away.

Yeah I learned from experience 😔

And I only say to use the clear stuff because it makes cleaning much easier. I’m sure it’s perfectly fine otherwise. edit: this is wrong, apparently; the red dye is in fact bad for them.

But yeah it really needs regular cleaning. It may look OK on the outside, but those holes fill up quick.

I use an app called Sweepy to help me stay on track with what needs cleaning and when it needs it, otherwise I’d totally space it.

As someone who grew up with elders telling him time speeds up as you get older, I spent a year or so researching with anxiety what I could do to mitigate this feeling.

The first thing to do is refuse to indulge this idea that one day being an elder just happens: as they say, if you declare it’s a bad day in the morning, you’re conditioning yourself to look for confirmations that the day is indeed going to be bad, while potentially overlooking the good.

Time, objectively, goes at the same speed your entire life— for most people, sans astronauts or regular mountain climbers. It’s your perception of it that changes, thanks to your memory. The theory is memory is a survival mechanism: it really only commits things to memory that it deems a potential threat. If your day is routine, you are safe, there is no need for your mind to automatically record it.

So instead you need to manually record it. At the end of the day, journal either physically or mentally what you did today.

I personally use Daylio (which records data points) and BeReal (forces you to take a pic at a random time of day of yourself and whatever is in front of you), and every now and again I get to look back and say “wow, it really has been an entire month, eh?”

The other thing to do to combat it is make new memories/avoid routine, but sadly many of us are not in a position to afford this one.

For me it helps I am really into movies; I can’t really afford to travel, but movies are new experiences to me in and of themselves, and are a hacky way for me to make new memories in an otherwise routine life.

If it’s a hummingbird feeder, make sure you clean it weekly/regularly, otherwise it can spread disease.

Don’t get that red dyed nectar either, get the clear stuff; don’t fill the entire feeder; get a straw scrubber for the holes; make sure the feeder has those anti bee things, otherwise it can attract wasps. I don’t have to deal with squirrels, but good luck if you do.

My retirement plan/my plan for if I ever get a life-threatening illness and a timeline on my mortality is to pretty much be that harbinger on any McConnell-equivalent beings within my resources (in Minecraft of course).

Right? He and others like him is all the proof I need there is no cosmic karma system.

…I’m not saying such a system should’ve killed him by now, but he at least shouldn’t be dying with this much dignity.

I’ve seen this question done with apples; if took “five years from now,” today, today would be minus five years. Boom, I’m acing this comprehension test.

Now if you’ll excuse me, there is a sale on garages I’m keen to get to.

You know what’s really weird about nostalgia now, and is only gonna get weirder for future generations? Video games are these entire worlds preserved, where everything is exactly as it was, so you can experience a moment in time (sans your peripheral environment) exactly as it was years ago when you first had it.

Unlike real life where a house is demolished or a new development gets put in where a field was, it’s every single thing right where it was, sounding as it did.

To me that’s a crazy thing to think about, and how it accesses and fills every crevice of a memory you had about it, no matter how buried.

nostalgia is such an odd feeling for me; it can come up for things like Trapper Keepers or 90s pastels, but then also come up for the smell of cigarettes, or the soundblasted screams from video games.

What’s a postcursor?

P.S. Fuck your