I know a garbage truck can handle a full stick of dynamite inside it without blowing apart. Otherwise, I woulda read about it in the paper.
My friends across the street threw a party and four fucking assholes we didn't even know showed up and made a racially motivated attack on our Black friend, Bill. Now, Bill wasn't a token, but my home town was so racist it was pretty much fully segregated, by choice on both sides. Bill was from out of town. Now, in the internet days, it's probably not uncommon for high school kids to have out of town friends. Back then, they were hard to meet.
Funny side note--I had a bit of an in because I hung out with the Asian kids in my smart classes. They kinda vouched for me. So, on his first day in a new school, in 8th grade, little skinny Ian got the shit kicked out of him by Mike at the bus stop. I mean--before school on the first day. It must have been a nightmare.
By tenth grade, Ian was about six foot four, a multi-sport athlete, and carved out of absolute muscle. But he was a really gentle, cool dude. He did have a resting bitch face. Probably from all the racism he had to put up with.
He taught me how to take revenge. I loved watching Mike scurry away whenever it looked like they may meet in the hall. He was never gonna kick Mike's ass. He was the better man. The best way to take revenge is to do nothing at all, and have the person who wronged you twitchily looking over his shoulder for the next decade.
So anyway, by 5AM, these assholes had disassembled the trampoline and were walking around with three foot steel pipes. My friends were barricaded in their house. I decided to solve the problem. I fucking solve problems, except most of the time you're not allowed to do that.
I had dynamite, birdshot, and double-stick tape. You'd be surprised how nasty a quarter stick of dynamite is. You should /see/ what it can do to a mailbox. So I made four IEDs and was heading over to fuck these guy's world up when my mom intercepted me at the door. I wasn't a big enough asshole to just throw my mother down, so I backed away and gave her my IEDs. And she threw them in the fucking trash. That's how I know a garbage truck can contain a stick of dynamite. 'Cuz that shit surely detonated when they compacted. Some people have no concept of weapons safety.
The story ends with a high speed chase. My friends had a Camaro, the four assholes had a Mustang. The chase went on for a long time. We were...not the kind of kids to ask for help. At one point, Bill went up through the T-top and chucked a 40 bottle at the Mustang, but it didn't break the windshield. The chase only ended when my friends pulled into the police station parking lot.
And as a bonus--I gotta give Bill respect. He once outran the K9 unit. He was a track star, and the cops sicc'ed the dog on him simply for being Black and at a party.
In case anyone would benefit from this information, I've done all the drugs and can report back from the front lines. I do them long enough to learn what they have to teach me, then walk away. The only one I ever needed help quitting was nicotine. If you're struggling with that, Chantix worked for me.
Meth: Meth took one dose. Fuck that noise. I have enough trouble sleeping. The last thing I need is a drug that's gonna make me spend the next 24 hours using my cock as a fidget widget.
Coke: I lived with a crack dealer for a week and smoked all I wanted until I could see from the inside why nobody I ever met beat coke. It will bring you down eventually. My buddy put it well--every time you do cocaine, you feel a piece of your soul die.
Narcotics: These are more subtle. I took an Oxy 40 a day for about two months one summer, until I felt it actually changing my body. Narcotics do that, y'know. They literally reconfigure your spine to want dope. fuck that. I walked away. I've had hangovers worse than that withdraw.
LSD: There's a lot of upside to LSD, but it's never used in a therapeutic manner. You just get chucked in the deep end of the pool to sink or swim. Ten years of therapy in ten hours. It can be pretty brutal, but there's a reason acid heads are so supercilious and snotty. We've been places you can't imagine, and lived through it. It's also anti-addictive. Your tolerance spikes after doing it, and it's impossible to do acid two days in a row. People online say every two weeks is the baseline, but I was a wholesaler and had infinite supply. We did it once a week, and took juggernaut doses. But even with an infinite supply, once a week is the best you're gonna get. Vice magazine, which used to be supercool, has the best advice on acid: once you get the message, hang up the phone. This applies to mushrooms as well. They're basically the same drug. Chaos math was discovered on acid, and a pitcher pulled off a perfect game in the 70s on it. Ride it right and you can do amazing things. I've seen what passes for Olympic level breakdancing these days, and every one of the 500 spectators could break that well in the parking lot of a pager-era rave. The five performers being watched were an order of magnitude better.
Extacy: You haven't even been able to get real extacy for decades. Molly is a poor substitute. X was 1.5 parts MDA to 1 part MDMA. The MDMA provided the happy while the MDA provided the energy, and prolonged it another couple hours. It was truth in advertising. Pure happiness in a pill. This is the only hard drug my old ass would reasonably consider doing, but I'd need someone to screw. I'm alone now.
Weed: I'm cool with weed. I think it's actually important for angry young people. It makes you doubt yourself. It provides a head check between thought and action, and that can be the difference between a yelling match and a murder and twenty years in prison. I'm glad it's mostly legalized.
Alcohol: Fuck yeast shit. It's a poison, not a drug. Although it is performance-enhancing in the writing world. I can't really explain that. Full disclosure: I'm a drunk. I'm just poor and do what I can get.
Nicotine: If any young 'uns are reading--DO NOT SMOKE CIGARETTES. It's just an addiction for the sake of an addiction. It doesn't even get you high. Waste of time, money, social status, and life expectancy. It's also the most difficult drug to quit. Experts say heroin is on the same level, but I've met a lot of people who gave up the needle and still smoked cigs. I've never met anyone who gave up the cigs and still played around with dope. Don't smoke blunts, either, even though they're awesome. A blunt wrap is tobacco. Chemically manipulated tobacco. It's, like, five cigarettes at once.
NO2: I'm basically positive toward nitrous. Don't use a mask. You can die that way. But there's nothing wrong with filling a garbage bag with it and blissing out a while. It goes very, very well with hallucinogens.
Wet: Wet is PCP with something called "skin toner" that comes from fucking funeral parlors. It's not formaldehyde, but it's pretty close. Don't go there unless you're broke and desperate. Not healthy.
Codeine: I never managed to get a high from it. Don't bother.
Nutmeg--nutmeg is the reason we have corporations. Old timey kings realized they were creating a /serious/ alternative to their power, but it was the only way to get it from Indonesia to Europe. The British and Dutch East India companies were formed to sling drugs. It was worth more than gold at the time. It's not a bad high. You want the McCormic with the yellow cap. Not the red cap. They know which trees were bred for drug content. Go very, very slowly. It takes hours for the high to build. Most people overindulge their first time and freak the fuck out. Seriously. It's got, like, a 3-hour come-on.
If I missed anything to which you have access, feel free to ask. I probably did it.
Tell me about the worst injuries you've ever had!
@yaelwrites@mastodon.social
Sure! Thanks for asking!
As a kid, I grew so fast my hips have stretch marks like pregnant women get. I'm EDS and have very loose joints, so for a couple years in elementary school my knees would dislocate at the drop of a hat. I always immediately put them back in and so I don't have problems with them now. I'm Gen X. We solved our own problems.
When I was 20, I was car crashed into an oncoming when we were both doing at least 50mph. I was in a Geo Tracker, the least safe vehicle on the road. The seat belt snapped my collar bone and I broke the steering wheel with the fleshy part of my nose. It took a plastic surgeon 270 stitches to rebuild my nose. That wasn't the worst of it, tho. I had a subdural hematoma in my verbal centers. When it rebled, I lost my words. I'm hyperlexical and started reading Stephen King at age seven, so this was exceptionally brutal for me. The doctors pointed at my mom and asked who she was and I said, "jump". Not even a noun. It fixed itself about ten minutes before they drilled my skull. I know a woman who had one so I can say that childbirth is an 8 on the 1-10 pain scale. I'd rank a dislocated knee about there. Popping a dislocated knee back over the cup and into its proper place is a nine. And a rebleed of an SDH is an eleven. I hyperventilated so bad every skeletal muscle cramped at once and I didn't even feel that. I was in the fire-victim pose because all my muscles were locked.
Five years later I fell off a ladder and staved in the side of my chest. I'm funny. I also got the wind knocked out of me pretty bad, so I told my coworker to call an ambo. When I got my wind back, I worried I'd just been an asshole, calling an ambo for having the wind knocked out. When they helicoptered me to the trauma ward I figured I probably made the right decision. By that point, I was so accustomed to trauma that I lied to 'em and pretended to be all scared, wanting my friend with me. We were poor kids. How often do you get a chance to ride in a helicopter? I'd been joking with the dude until the ambo arrived and things got serious. There's so little extra space in those helicopters that the paramedic can't be over 5'6". He had to stay home.
At 45, they finally got me. The cops fuck with the streetlights to cause crashes and get people hit. I got slammed by a speeding drunk driver in an SUV. I'm like a stunt man, though. I presented flat against the bumper, which hit me in the lumbar region but I didn't torsion so I didn't end up with any nerve damage. I did a feet-first superman and came down on my shoulder blades hard enough to break a bunch of shit there, too. I knew it wasn't the fault of the kid driving, so I told her to get out of there before she got jammed up with the law. Three days later I went for imaging--multiple fractures of multiple vertebrate at both impact points. Minimum of 2^3 breaks in my spine. I just sat still in a chair for a couple months and self-healed it. Like I said, Gen X. We were all latch key kids. We learned to be self-sufficient. I lost an inch and a half of height on that one.
Oh, and Mossad teamed up with the CIA to leave me unconscious on a sheet of ice when they figured out I'm an incorrigible liberal and would never be any use to them. I'm pretty hard to kill, tho. You basically have to use a bullet. Nothing pretending to be an accident, or my own fault, is going to work. I'm kinda legendary in some elite circles. Don't fuck with autistic people. We may be socially awkward, but most of us are hard as a coffin nail.
#introduction
I'm a hyperlexical AuDHD with cPTSD and EDS. Whew! A generation ago I just would have been Asperger's.
I'm an autodidactic polymath.
I'm some kind of online oracle, but don't know how or why. I'm probably one of those fucked-up CIA experiments from the 70s. They make movies about me.
I was raised atheist. The Matrix is religious power, albeit run by secular agency, and I was born outside it. I'm stuck in the desert of the real.
My anthem:
https://invidious.drgns.space/watch?v=_2_mJ3N-SW8
I know a garbage truck can handle a full stick of dynamite inside it without blowing apart. Otherwise, I woulda read about it in the paper.
My friends across the street threw a party and four fucking assholes we didn't even know showed up and made a racially motivated attack on our Black friend, Bill. Now, Bill wasn't a token, but my home town was so racist it was pretty much fully segregated, by choice on both sides. Bill was from out of town. Now, in the internet days, it's probably not uncommon for high school kids to have out of town friends. Back then, they were hard to meet.
Funny side note--I had a bit of an in because I hung out with the Asian kids in my smart classes. They kinda vouched for me. So, on his first day in a new school, in 8th grade, little skinny Ian got the shit kicked out of him by Mike at the bus stop. I mean--before school on the first day. It must have been a nightmare.
By tenth grade, Ian was about six foot four, a multi-sport athlete, and carved out of absolute muscle. But he was a really gentle, cool dude. He did have a resting bitch face. Probably from all the racism he had to put up with.
He taught me how to take revenge. I loved watching Mike scurry away whenever it looked like they may meet in the hall. He was never gonna kick Mike's ass. He was the better man. The best way to take revenge is to do nothing at all, and have the person who wronged you twitchily looking over his shoulder for the next decade.
So anyway, by 5AM, these assholes had disassembled the trampoline and were walking around with three foot steel pipes. My friends were barricaded in their house. I decided to solve the problem. I fucking solve problems, except most of the time you're not allowed to do that.
I had dynamite, birdshot, and double-stick tape. You'd be surprised how nasty a quarter stick of dynamite is. You should /see/ what it can do to a mailbox. So I made four IEDs and was heading over to fuck these guy's world up when my mom intercepted me at the door. I wasn't a big enough asshole to just throw my mother down, so I backed away and gave her my IEDs. And she threw them in the fucking trash. That's how I know a garbage truck can contain a stick of dynamite. 'Cuz that shit surely detonated when they compacted. Some people have no concept of weapons safety.
The story ends with a high speed chase. My friends had a Camaro, the four assholes had a Mustang. The chase went on for a long time. We were...not the kind of kids to ask for help. At one point, Bill went up through the T-top and chucked a 40 bottle at the Mustang, but it didn't break the windshield. The chase only ended when my friends pulled into the police station parking lot.
And as a bonus--I gotta give Bill respect. He once outran the K9 unit. He was a track star, and the cops sicc'ed the dog on him simply for being Black and at a party.
In case anyone would benefit from this information, I've done all the drugs and can report back from the front lines. I do them long enough to learn what they have to teach me, then walk away. The only one I ever needed help quitting was nicotine. If you're struggling with that, Chantix worked for me.
Meth: Meth took one dose. Fuck that noise. I have enough trouble sleeping. The last thing I need is a drug that's gonna make me spend the next 24 hours using my cock as a fidget widget.
Coke: I lived with a crack dealer for a week and smoked all I wanted until I could see from the inside why nobody I ever met beat coke. It will bring you down eventually. My buddy put it well--every time you do cocaine, you feel a piece of your soul die.
Narcotics: These are more subtle. I took an Oxy 40 a day for about two months one summer, until I felt it actually changing my body. Narcotics do that, y'know. They literally reconfigure your spine to want dope. fuck that. I walked away. I've had hangovers worse than that withdraw.
LSD: There's a lot of upside to LSD, but it's never used in a therapeutic manner. You just get chucked in the deep end of the pool to sink or swim. Ten years of therapy in ten hours. It can be pretty brutal, but there's a reason acid heads are so supercilious and snotty. We've been places you can't imagine, and lived through it. It's also anti-addictive. Your tolerance spikes after doing it, and it's impossible to do acid two days in a row. People online say every two weeks is the baseline, but I was a wholesaler and had infinite supply. We did it once a week, and took juggernaut doses. But even with an infinite supply, once a week is the best you're gonna get. Vice magazine, which used to be supercool, has the best advice on acid: once you get the message, hang up the phone. This applies to mushrooms as well. They're basically the same drug. Chaos math was discovered on acid, and a pitcher pulled off a perfect game in the 70s on it. Ride it right and you can do amazing things. I've seen what passes for Olympic level breakdancing these days, and every one of the 500 spectators could break that well in the parking lot of a pager-era rave. The five performers being watched were an order of magnitude better.
Extacy: You haven't even been able to get real extacy for decades. Molly is a poor substitute. X was 1.5 parts MDA to 1 part MDMA. The MDMA provided the happy while the MDA provided the energy, and prolonged it another couple hours. It was truth in advertising. Pure happiness in a pill. This is the only hard drug my old ass would reasonably consider doing, but I'd need someone to screw. I'm alone now.
Weed: I'm cool with weed. I think it's actually important for angry young people. It makes you doubt yourself. It provides a head check between thought and action, and that can be the difference between a yelling match and a murder and twenty years in prison. I'm glad it's mostly legalized.
Alcohol: Fuck yeast shit. It's a poison, not a drug. Although it is performance-enhancing in the writing world. I can't really explain that. Full disclosure: I'm a drunk. I'm just poor and do what I can get.
Nicotine: If any young 'uns are reading--DO NOT SMOKE CIGARETTES. It's just an addiction for the sake of an addiction. It doesn't even get you high. Waste of time, money, social status, and life expectancy. It's also the most difficult drug to quit. Experts say heroin is on the same level, but I've met a lot of people who gave up the needle and still smoked cigs. I've never met anyone who gave up the cigs and still played around with dope. Don't smoke blunts, either, even though they're awesome. A blunt wrap is tobacco. Chemically manipulated tobacco. It's, like, five cigarettes at once.
NO2: I'm basically positive toward nitrous. Don't use a mask. You can die that way. But there's nothing wrong with filling a garbage bag with it and blissing out a while. It goes very, very well with hallucinogens.
Wet: Wet is PCP with something called "skin toner" that comes from fucking funeral parlors. It's not formaldehyde, but it's pretty close. Don't go there unless you're broke and desperate. Not healthy.
Codeine: I never managed to get a high from it. Don't bother.
Nutmeg--nutmeg is the reason we have corporations. Old timey kings realized they were creating a /serious/ alternative to their power, but it was the only way to get it from Indonesia to Europe. The British and Dutch East India companies were formed to sling drugs. It was worth more than gold at the time. It's not a bad high. You want the McCormic with the yellow cap. Not the red cap. They know which trees were bred for drug content. Go very, very slowly. It takes hours for the high to build. Most people overindulge their first time and freak the fuck out. Seriously. It's got, like, a 3-hour come-on.
If I missed anything to which you have access, feel free to ask. I probably did it.
How does a random number generator work?
All RPG's, and a lot of other games as well, are built around a random number generator. As a kid I used to try to work out a piece of computer logic that would create a truly random number, but never figured it out.
Does anyone even understand the question? How do you make zeroes and ones and math operatives throw off a random number?
20 authors you’d recommend to a friend. One author per day, no particular order.
#booksky #books #bookchallenge #readingchallenge
I do 20 at once. Sorry. I have the task completion ability of a coked-up goldfish. Anyway:
1) Terry Pratchett
2) Stephen King
3) Carl Hiaasen
4) Dan Simmons
5) Kurt Vonnegut
6) Robert Heinlein
7) Richard Adams
8) Douglas Adams
9) C D Payne
10) John Skipp and Craig Spector
11) Lee Child
12) John Irving
13) Tom Robbins
14) Gore Vidal
15) Norman Mailer
16) Keith Lowell Jensen
17) Jared Diamond
18) Thomas Piketty
19) Yanis Varoufarakis
20) Arkady and Boris Strugatsky
21) Gabriel Garcia Marquez
22) Jersey Kozinsky
23) Milan Kundera
24) Max Harms
25) Buchi Emecheta
#introduction
I'm a hyperlexical AuDHD with cPTSD and EDS. Whew! A generation ago I just would have been Asperger's.
I'm an autodidactic polymath.
I'm some kind of online oracle, but don't know how or why. I'm probably one of those fucked-up CIA experiments from the 70s. They make movies about me.
I was raised atheist. The Matrix is religious power, albeit run by secular agency, and I was born outside it. I'm stuck in the desert of the real.
My anthem:
https://invidious.drgns.space/watch?v=_2_mJ3N-SW8
Poloniousmonk