A Fuzzy Thing Happened…

Typo of the day is trible (where I intended to type tribe).

It caused me a little trouble.

Captain Kirk (William Shatner), Science Officer Spock (Leonard Nimoy), Chief Engineer Scott (James Doohan), and a buttload of tribbles.
“Time is an illusion, captain. Lunch-time doubly so.”
photo: a cartoon by Tim Kirk of two tribbles with dog-Latin names: FUZZICUS GRAVIDIS and TRIBBLEUS PREGNANTUM

text: from David Gerrold's book THE TROUBLE WITH TRIBBLES; opening of chapter five, "A Fuzzy Thing Happened to Me..."
p. 71 of David Gerrold’s The Trouble With Tribbles,
whence I stole the joke at the top of this post;
cartoon by Tim Kirk
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The Eye of the Beholder

Just got back from a midnight run with Reuben Sandwich, D.O. (Doctor Olfactantissimus). I saw a smoky red half-moon hanging somber in the western sky. Reuben saw about fifteen thousand sinister bunnies, only three of which were evident to me.

Reuben, not walking, not tonight.
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A Stiff Dose of Truth

I can’t positively recommend reading this excellent article (a collaboration between Pro Publica and The New Yorker). It’s full of excruciating medical detail. But if you’re hardy enough to do so, there’s a lot of food for thought.

A thought: the profit motive in medicine will kill most of us eventually, even destroying those who can afford treatment.

Another: patriarchy imposes a huge burden of sorrow and suffering on men. That’s not the most important reason to be against it, but it’s a reason.

https://www.propublica.org/article/penis-enlargement-enhancement-procedures-implants

TEXT: PROPUBLICA
Inside the Secretive World of Penile 
by Ava Kofman; 

How a doctor’s two-decade quest to grow the penis is leaving some men desperate and disfigured.

PHOTO: various phallic objects and an old-timey service-station sign showing a car with wood panelling; the text reads: GET YOUR WOODY SERVICED HERE
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Of Stars and Dogs

I took Dr. Reuben Sandwich (PhD, JD, DOG) out for a midnight run last night. Just as we left our driveway, I looked up and saw a meteor streak across the Summer Triangle (formed by Vega, Deneb, & Altair). I tried to keep my eye on the sky thereafter but Reuben is a fast-paced little bulldog who gives one little leisure for stargazing.

I did see a lot of meteors later on in my dreams, though. Reuben may have done the same, but he hasn’t mentioned it.

A fawn-colored French Bulldog sleeping in the lap pf someone wearing a plaid shirt.
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Rumba with the Rhomboi

This image of the Kylix of Durides and Calliades came up in my Mastodon newsfeed today. (The source wasn’t attributed, but see some more images here.)

a Greek red-figure vase painting; two warriors are in conflict at the center; a female figure flanks them on either side
Continue reading
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Facts About Fiction

Studies show that most studies don’t show what they show. Still, this is an interesting and well-sourced piece about the connections between reading and empathy.

https://bigthink.com/neuropsych/reading-fiction-empathy-better-person/

screenshot of the article at Big Think
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Just Be Cos

Typo of the day is cosgender which I discovered by mistyping cisgender in some sentence like “Cisgenger is not a slur”—a statement too obvious to need saying, except that we live in the Worst Timeline.

“Cosgender. That ought to be a real thing!” I said to myself, and apparently it is.

Cosgender is a fluid gender that changes depending on the character(s) one is cosplaying at the moment. For example, cosplaying a female character could make one’s gender more female-aligned, and cosplaying a male character could make one’s gender more male-aligned.”

Fandom.com

It even has its own flag, created by the term’s neologizer “Mogaiz-Heaven”.

flag for cosgender

So. There you go there. It’s a Solstice Miracle!™

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Opporknockity Tunes!

Every time anything goes right today, I’m shouting, “IT’S A SOLSTICE MIRACLE!” I urge everyone to do the same, until it’s a thing people start to complain about. Then we can raise money talking about the War on Solstice. It’s a long con, but it just might work.

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The Living Is Easy

Happy solstice to my fellow Tellurians. All visitors: proceed at your own risk.

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Potayto, Potahto…

Typo of the day is eggshites (where I intended to type eggwhites).

I’m thinking of letting it stand. Since Mr. Pancreas tried to kill me last winter, I’ve come to appreciate eggwhites, but my narrator doesn’t think much of them.

a carton of generic egg whites
Don’t try to drink it all at once!
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