jims

taught a slime mold heliocentrism and now it grows in concentric circles. an expression of reverence? who can say

my boy Granwoldë swallowed the cursed amulet now he keeps poopin out tiny, malformed versions of his dad that scream in agony and melt after a few seconds into puddles of acid goo and then worms crawl out of the goo and explode into mist dr lantern: have you tried whale oil... mayhaps kerosene...

my inner child has unionized with the two wolves inside me and their demands are unreasonable; eat a vegetable, get some sleep, live a life of quiet fulfillment, the list goes on and on. gonna fire a few gas canisters up my ass to smoke those fuckers out then hit em with the lawyers, bezos style

guy who confuses unibrow with unabomber: sometimes i look in the mirror and see my father. the grand irony is that he was absence incarnate, yet somehow never leaves; haunting the very eyes peering back at me. huh? no yeah, i've been awake this whole time. scalpels back in fellas, stitch me up good

if i may doff the facade of whimsy for a moment, it's time to get painfully sincere; i've been boiling my evening oats in dr pepper for months now. it's awful. it's disgusting and i don't even eat them, but if i don't do this then no one else will and the world will lose something unique forever.

i have a hot take regarding the upcoming american midterms; every year your candidates should get slightly smaller. in 2030 every elected representative should be 2 inches tall and ride a beetle to work. they should sleep under a mushroom and wear doll clothes. they should crave the falling boot,

trapped by my co-worker in a boring conversation. i involuntary roll my eyes with exasperation, too late in realizing my mistake; as my eyes roll across the table, co-worker snatches them up and starts sucking them down like plump grapes, giggling greedily. i have no recourse, there are rules here.

my Large Adult Son has the delicately carved torso of a flute. every mellifluous breath flows over his oesophagal reeds in one organic note. if you put a finger in his bellybutton it blows a c#. plug his ass with two thumbs and you get a b-minor flat 7. child protective services wouldn't understand,

my exotic international lover @telephonesis.bsky.social is visiting me in australia and the first kangaroo she saw was dead on the side of the road. this is an auspicious sign, those who first witness the end can only continue to begin. why do we fall? so that we can pick ourselves up. batman begin

yanking my parachute ripcord, a tiny man brimming with self confidence and a can-do attitude pops out of the 'chute bag. "don't worry friend, i'll get us out of this jam!" he yells over the rushing wind. we slam into the ground at terminal velocity

sooo, ive been thinking about your future here at the company. before you panic, its nothing serious! didn't mean to spook you, consider this more of a... teaching moment? some friendly mentorship from one professional to another. take this egg and slide it up my ass and kick me so hard it shatters,

boreal evergreens lash at my naked form as i pass, bursting into flames as the friction of passage ignites the very air around them. i need to go faster. i need to outrun photons. i need to lap the galaxy, to impress mother and her luncheon guests. they will deem me worthy of the finger sandwiches,

my Large Adult Son buries his eggs in the sand just like everyone else, yet still the children torment him. "look!" they chant, "look at the mechanical demon planting his seeds!". if only they knew how he whispers into birds until the messages echo from the trees, lulling the moon and stars to sleep

me: im really gonna do it this time. im going to grill myself sam the barbecued meat fucker: im more than just my nickname you know. dont judge a book by its cover, you never know what the pages might hold. i have depths you cannot fathom by title alone! im going to fuck you you little grilled ham,

also hey

my Large Adult Son rests between the boughs of an elder willow, idly tossing his hair and giggling like god's favourite ingénue. i see my father in him; kind, carefree, eyes sparkling with mischief. i see my mother in him too; four big fat hooves and a luscious mane. father was a complicated man,

they did 9/11 on a grape. has anyone done this bit yet? has anyone even reached beyond their shell to sup at the oceanic grail, that most whole cup of salted vim and vigour? has anyone dared to stare defiance back into the sun's hateful glare? it doesn't want you to win, but i do. it's ok to cry

you, an uncouth dullard: been on that 9 to 5 grind. 9 beers and 5 pussy, amiright fellas me, the earl of donningham shire: this shape will not fit my heart. how am i supposed to ascend when the key and the lock are at odds? fetch me another stable boy, and be quick about it!

hey! a dear friend is going through a pretty rough situation. if the sun has smiled upon you and you find yourself in a position to help, anything and everything helps her to get out. truly, thank you x

bit of #disruptor #entrepreneur news today, was poking through the software behind my dad's pacemaker and discovered it's super inefficient! i dont know how to code so i did a step by step teardown and vibe rebuild using Claude. dad died but could the blockchain help? @why.bsky.team you know Claude?

there's a tiny little man underneath my skin. he travels along my bones like roads, tickling nerves and causing a ruckus, but that's out of my hands. my jurisdiction begins and ends at skin level, anything deeper isn't my business

much like the california gold rush of 1849, it is not the looksmaxxers that get rich; it's the one who sells the hammers... much to think about...

not now kitten, daddy has a few loose ends to tie; debts to settle, apologies to make, little goodbyes written and tucked into envelopes slid under doors. now kitten, just like daddy taught you, rest the barrel between his eyes - just like that, easy now. forgive me. ok kitten, daddy's ready.

queer eye season 11 tan: hm we gotta get rid of those teeth! jonathan: yep. those teeth, straight out. jeremiah: can't let you keep those teeth, kemosabe! antoni: we're going to pull those teeth, every single one. buldok the road toad: open road karamo: time to pull all those teeth out,

found God. they were in the back of the fridge, festering and forgotten behind an expired jar of horseradish cremé. they were laughing soundlessly, chest heaving with the effort of hysteric mirth. tears streamed from unblinking eyes, bulging with a mania unimaginable; infinite. closed the fridge.

on a woodland power hike when a tiny grey alien toddles out of the woods. it has two huge eyes full of gentle wonder. i scream and kick it through a tree; not because i am afraid but because i am commandant of the Kick and Scream Society and come hell or high water I Will Not Let The Lads Down

as one of the most respected talking heads in the media ecosphere i feel a responsibility to weigh in on discourse surrounding the strait of hormuz; nuke the moon. if we had any balls we'd nuke the moon and be done with it. do it you cowards, you absolute buried clams. nuke the moon. nukeitnukeitnuk

"war is won in the deli, long before it is fought in the mud. a nation built upon robust selections of cured meats, cheese varieties and antipasto enters conflict with both the moral and spiritual high ground. one fetta-stuffed kalamata olive can divert the trajectory of man and god alike" - sun tzu

my cult of personality toils in the desert, building a gleaming machine that will let me rip like a beyblade. maybe spinning real fast will fill whatever nameless wanting is missing; maybe if i spin fast enough, my brain will outrun its own noise. the horse we tested it on exploded. very promising.

being in your 30's is about getting your teeth kicked off by a 6'8 bouncer named Dane because you rolled too hard off that Mike's Hard Whole Milk and tried to wear the dj

my large adult son's affable yet oafish nature attracts nobility from across the realm. arriving in carriages laden with gifts, they leave beaming with joy; touched by his gentle nature and fun stoat facts. while they dither i abscond with their stable boys. i am koney 2012 of the yorkshire hills,

it's the men, general. their faith erodes as if abraded by a thousand poison tides, each bearing a more seditious whisper than the last; it's.. it's the apple, sir. you've been in your tent for days, boiling that same apple over and over. we hear you singing to it, calling it your 'Steaming Samuel',

Croag the Vehicular Menace: classical economic systems are insufficient, failing to meet modern requirements. we need something new, something revolutionary yoda ant: recurring character i am now. find sugar i must

if you enter the club without Clarity of Purpose, your bones should turn to sand

homunculus assistant has been experimenting with runes again. he's tattooed one of them on a toad, now every time it croaks one of the lab mice goes bald. the hair then grows out of its brow, this toad's eyebrows are making my boyfriend's wife jealous i tell you h'what. lost my train of thought. mmm

literacy is a degenerative disease. every idea you absorb through your eyes damages your crown chakra, quieting the Voice of God and its constant stream of simple life hacks

john wicko mode at the real estate agency except instead of a 9 mil it's a squirt gun of hog piss. judo slam my rent agent through his desk, two squirts at the next agent's eyes. third agent, unload a full clip of piss. fourth agent enters, throw the empty squirt gun at his head. take out a hammer,

in a groundbreaking, world-first surgery, the two wolves inside my large adult son have been successfully euthanized. he now exists within a never-before imagined frame of morality; operating under ethics free of our lupine duality. what will he do now? i hope he convinces his mother to take me back

the bird soundlessly alights, silhouetted against the pale morning sun, yet, casting no shadow. it wears the head of a snake, forked tongue flicking hypnotically as it proselytizes; 'love is the new flesh,' it crows, 'abando- i squeal and hit it with a shovel. freak ass bird snake shut the hell up

twelve eggs left in the Hardware Nest! what will hatch next? will it be a Makita DHP484Z 18V Mobile Brushless Heavy Duty Compact Hammer Driver Drill? maybe a can of solvent, or a bag of assorted screws? it's exciting not knowing. i only feel alive monitoring the eggs. the mystery keeps us all sane

nothing prepares you for the sound of your own bones snapping. i hear it when i close my ears at night; the mellifluous flute trill of a tibia, or the meaty french horn honk of a knuckle bone. if i were to fall from a great height my bones would shatter, birthing a harmonic symphony of splinters

sand is just glass yet to realize it's potential. you look at a pristine stretch of beach and see summers with Father, a tipple of granita in the moonlight, listing your first sandcastle on zillow; i see a technicolour cathedral of stained glass effigies, a million Fathers rendered kaleidoscopic