It’s kind of ironic that you’re posting this this way, basically telling us to draw our conclusions about the person who wrote this without any information on what they’re talking about or why this is bad or laughable to back it up.

Making prognostications on the future isn’t something that necessarily adheres to the scientific method.

Has death considered a GoFundMe, or maybe streaming on Twitch?

Yeah, for instance, I have not shopped at Walmart in, I think, six years, and so when I have met people who shop at Walmart, I’m just like, okay, I guess something’s going on that means that you have to shop at Walmart. Sucks for you, but hopefully you will choose not to shop at Walmart in the future when you can.

As a homogenous blob, you would become lighter and denser.

Depends on the other person’s body count, attitude towards sex, and maturity.

When I was a virgin, the idea of being with someone who wasn’t a virgin made me feel incredibly insecure.

Once I had had one partner, the idea of being with someone who had had more than one partner made me very insecure.

Now that I’ve had a handful of partners, I’ve realized it doesn’t matter to me anymore.

I mean, if you think about it, you are one of if not the farthest traveling cum shots your dad ever had.

We have all made an agreement that if any of us start a restaurant, that person is allowed to sell the seafood pasta salad *in their restaurant.

Can’t share the recipe, its a family secret.

If you want to try it, you’ll just have to be my friend near a holiday.

For real though, I mean, you could also just use a different layout. You don’t have to use triangles and make a circle. You could have a square umbrella that folds out with a little bit of prodding.

I must have hit mid-life at 15 because my mom made a recipe for what we in the family call seafood pasta salad, that I am now known for.

It is so good I have had friends drive 30 plus miles each way for a bowl when they know I’ve got it.

And when I have it, I dish that shit out like a drug dealer with a permit.

Yeah, I do.

Let us make our dark jokes and giggle in our misery.

If you’re not going through it, do what you can to support us.

Please

No, yes, it was even considered a bad pickup line back in the 80s or 70s or whenever the movie i saw that had that pickup line in it was made.

Like the whole point of the thing was to show the viewer what a douchebag this guy was so that when the main character showed up and wasn’t a douchebag by comparison, you would go, “hey, that guy’s not a douchebag, you should pick him over the douchebag.”

Although, like, okay, this does raise an interesting question.

What if the gods made this like unbelievably attractive beautiful hoochie mama, and told all the world, “Don’t fuck this one girl, and you’ll be fine”, and then somebody went and had sex with the girl, only to find out that her hymen was, ha ha ha, I can’t even say it, that her hymen was the lock on Pandora’s box, and when somebody put their dick in there, they let out all of the syphilis and herpes and gonorrhea and HIV and chlamydia like a nuclear bomb went off on that guy’s penis and testicles, they just immediately eroded like Alien acid was sprayed on it.

I was using voice to text for this, and sorry that it rambles, but I’m just gonna keep it the way it was, cause holy shit, that’s a hilarious fucking mental picture of a guy just… getting his dick blown off by some fire-ass pussy

Why do so many people expect me to develop a fetish for being ignored?

Because that’s what every single therapist I have tried to set an appointment with has done to me in the last seven goddamn fucking years.

Fuck therapists, they are shit, they are terrible, they do not deserve to exist, they are a plague on our society, and they should be done away with, like recreational lobotomies and having tobacco smoke blown up your ass.

I say that because in my experience there are exactly two kinds of people that can actually get therapy.

One: rich people who do not have problems and do not need therapists.

Two: poor people who are so fucked they are absolutely destined to lead a miserable life and there’s nothing that can be done to help them.

If you are not female, neither one of those categories apply to you.

And this is not a hating on women thing. This is a personal frustration as a man that has attempted to make several appointments for therapy after using the online web apps, after using websites, after calling offices, after reaching out to groups that handle mass appointments for therapists, being sent hopeful, inspiring emails about how excited these companies are to work with me and to take my money and how grateful they are that I have good insurance that will make it very inexpensive out of pocket for me to get all the therapy I need for all of my mental health issues.

Then, every single fucking goddamn therapist in the entire fucking state who sees my name presumably immediately takes the sheet of paper that my name was printed on and balls it up and shoves it up their ass and then goes to the toilet and shits it out.

And then when that shit paper clogs the toilet, they plunge the toilet and get a sewer snake to grind that piece of paper coated in shit up until it’s a fine mist of particles that the plumbing system and the sewer systems can easily handle to feed the microbes in the sewer systems.

So fuck the recommendation of going to a therapist.

I probably would profit a lot from having one. I feel like a lot of my problems are workoutable with a friend and with guidance.

But being as that for some reason I am cursed so that no person who has the training and qualifications necessary to take care of the problems in my life will ever actually be available to me as a human being to take advantage of their services, they can all go fucking die in a fire.

Fuck them.

I do everything in my power to not know what is going on with current events. I do this to protect my sanity because nobody reports on a good thing that happened without first bombarding you with a thousand horrible things that happened.

My personal life is already shit enough. I do not need to know about all of the shit going on outside of my personal life on top of it.

Pretty much, except you’d need a really really really tall house for one of the gods to fall off of.

On the one hand, it kind of makes me feel like Nikola Tesla was just a god in human form doing cool, fun stuff and then fucking Edison, the “Wizard of Menlo Park” showed up and he probably killed, you know, dozens of Native American gods that we don’t really even have the names for anymore to create the moving picture and the phonograph.

I also bet the punishment for killing a god is something so unbelievably onerous that it would shrivel your soul to know the truth of it.

Like I bet Edison right now is screaming an eternal agony, ripped away from the cycle of reincarnation, and being subjected to immortal punishment.

I mean, I’m glad that there are pockets in the world where people feel confident in saying that nobody studies religion anymore because representation is important, but saying “nobody reads their book anymore” casually overlooks like six plus billion people who do actually participate in a religion of some type.

Like, I get what you’re saying, but more people are religious to some degree than are not.

By a huge margin.

I checked the World Population Review website for the least religious countries, and it seems like there’s approximately 1.2 to 1.4 billion officially non-religious people in the world as of 2020, And three-quarters of a billion of them are in China.

So if we were all placed onto a massive chessboard and forced to battle it out life or death style, the atheists are gonna be out numbered approximately 6 to 1.

I said all of that not to disparage your atheism, but rather to say that it’s okay to have mental exercises in fiction about religion and religious adjacent topics like this, if for no other reason than to enjoy our imagination and to have conversations with each other.

I think you misunderstood the point of the question, lol.

It’s fanfiction.

It’s like saying that the reason why we have not solved fusion is because we have not killed Apollo because he’s safe in the sun, and the only way to solve fusion would be to send a probe to the sun with a live chicken and some peach preserves as part of the method to kill Apollo to steal the power of fusion from his corpse.

I could see some sort of connection between, like, there’s a pickup line where a guy would dip his fingers in a glass of water and flick a few drops of water on a girls clothes, and then tell the woman, “hey, let’s get you out of those wet clothes”, but I don’t see anything inherently sexist in what you said.

Maybe she is making that connection in her mind and just having a difficult time expressing it to you cogently.