nostr:npub15074264qfye8gc2u9s3fdn2cq23x90mx372fluj8ff48hj22zrzqh7e4gg Yep has more of an attitude to it, more firm, whereas Yup is less committal, just agreeable. Both are significantly more casual than a standard Yes.
It’s amazing to me how big a difference a shower and a chance of clothes can have on your general attitude about life. It’s like cleaning your office desk.
“Oh, there’s my pen.”
In the fall of 1938, as fascism and war threatened Europe, Irving Berlin, a Russian-born American Immigrant, decided to write a peace song. He recalled an unpublished version of a song that he had set aside in a trunk, took it out and shaped it into, "God Bless America."
A peace song.
Not that I give a shit about the national anthem either, but you don’t need to take off your hat and put your hand over your heart when someone sings “God Bless America.”
Americans don’t know their asses from their elbows.
About time for this soon. #Foodie
I really don’t care if military promotions get held up. But it’s definitely ironic for a Republican to hamstring the military because of a completely unrelated domestic policy issue. The GOP is not a friend of the military, intelligence, or working people.
Thunder, lightning, and pouring rain. Can’t barely see across the street. Flash flood warnings. Yeehaw.
Memoir is taking ownership of your life’s narrative. #Writing
In which I explain to my limey friend the pastoral romance and understated elegance of America’s national pastime. https://medium.com/the-press-box/the-gentlemans-game-a-brit-s-introduction-to-baseball-7e265182f7
Before today, I couldn’t have told you what dreams tasted like. I could have told you what they smelled like. They smell of freshly mowed grass, sweat, oiled leather, dirt, stale beer, pine tar, and chewing tobacco. They sound like the crack of a wooden bat hitting a tightly-wound ball of string and leather, and the corresponding roar of the crowd as they cheer you round the horn.
#baseball #writing https://medium.com/the-press-box/the-taste-of-a-dream-46aa47047a70
Family portraits from my son-in-law’s 40th birthday party. My wife Jane, daughters Jessica and Julia, son Ricky, my other son-in-law talking to my sister-in-law, and my wife and her sister with a neighbor.
It was a cooker.
nostr:npub15074264qfye8gc2u9s3fdn2cq23x90mx372fluj8ff48hj22zrzqh7e4gg Stick your phone inside the thing and use the self timer. Easy peasy. Bottom of a trash can. Inside your mailbox. iPhones have a 10 sec timer. That’s long enough to do some crazy shit.
nostr:npub15074264qfye8gc2u9s3fdn2cq23x90mx372fluj8ff48hj22zrzqh7e4gg Not mine, but I did contemplate going downstairs and making my own. I did a daily selfie at the beginning of COVID that I would put on Instagram.
I find Threads completely pointless. It does nothing for me and fills no need. I don’t know why I keep bothering to look. It’s like when you keep looking in an empty fridge for something to eat.
Opens door, “Nope. Still nothing.”
Two days is not enough time off. At least one of those days is used up doing household chores, so essentially we only have one day of rest. We need to move to a four day work week. Friday should be my chores day.
Power is back on. Sweet Jesus. ;)
Power just went out. That means no AC, or water.
Support all unions. The wealthiest celebrities should “crowdsource” a fund to take care of lower earning writers and actors. Don’t let the big studios “wait them out.”
The public should threaten to destroy the studios.
Twitter and Meta were having issues long before. Bluesky, Mastodon, and Threads are just attempts at recreating the early excitement of those platforms, except there’s nothing fundamentally new or different.
We don’t yet know what the next thing is going to be. AI might not be our biggest worry. It might be learning how to squeeze water out of the air or grow our own food.
You know when cartoon characters run out of ground and are left suspended in space? That’s where we are.