God: Obviously I’m not able to stop the gunman from becoming insane and buying a ranged hypodermic lethal injection device, he’s way too powerful for me, but maybe I can use what little power I actually possess to slightly nudge this bullet away from a man who is objectively awful and into a man who saves lives for a living. Yeah, I’ll do that.
Christofascists: SCORE!
Shit’s treatable as fuck, especially depressive illnesses like, well, depression, but also bipolar and so on. If you look up the success rate of treatment for these things, you’ll see that they’re really, really good, all things considered. It 100% won’t feel like anything will ever help you when you’re in this state of mind - I know only too well - but trust me, your motivations and thoughts are off kilter right now, and with some help from the doc, you will look back on this time with bemusement.
It’s like being horny. When you’re in that state, you’ll do - and want to do - things that you would not wanna do on a Monday morning as you get ready for work. You’ll put things in your mouth that would probably make you puke if you thought about doing it in any other circumstance. Once you orgasm, and the post-nut clarity kicks in, you’ll return to your normal state and will resume your normal thoughts. You won’t be single-minded in your quest for an orgasm anymore, and you might even feel shame at what you were willing to do just 10 minutes earlier. But you can get back to your life. Right now, your brain is gooning for suicide. Your brain can go fuck itself. Get help, just go to your family doc and tell them what you’re going through (I recommend writing out a list of symptoms/recurring thoughts to make it easier). If you’re already in treatment and you feel it’s not working, you need to let them know so they can try other medications or other more dramatic interventions like ECT or ketamine or something.
If you’re afraid of being carted away and locked in a 17th century insane asylum, I can assure you of two things. First, you will not be hospitalised unless you explicitly tell the doc you plan on harming yourself. So you can safely tell them “I write drafts of my suicide note daily, I think about ending it all the time, I don’t see a future, I think everyone would be happier if I were dead” etc. None of that will get you hospitalised against your will. Saying “when I get home I’m eating 100 pills and slitting my throat”, that will get you hospitalised. The second thing I can assure you of is that, whatever nightmarish ideas you may have in your head of what it’s like to be in a psych hospital, it’s nothing like the movies. It’s no different from a regular hospital. If I were talking to you 40 or 50 years ago, I would probably recommend you avoid the hospital at all costs. But in 2025, it’s not a prison with nurses instead of wardens. It’s not One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. I know from personal experience, it’s really not a big deal, especially if you’re non-violent and are more of a threat to yourself. But even with all that said, you almost certainly won’t be heading there against your will unless you tell the doc you have imminent plans to end your life. Depression is one of the leading causes of doctor visits these days, they sure as fuck can’t hospitalise all such cases, so they definitely don’t hospitalise people willy-nilly. And because it’s such a widespread issue, the science has advanced in leaps and bounds just in the last couple of decades. For a doctor, and especially for a psychiatrist/psychologist, depression is pretty milquetoast shit. To the sufferer, it’s literally so bad you would rather be dead than to feel it anymore. But as far as the docs are concerned, it’s easy mode.
Get help, start with the family doc and go from there. If you’re already getting help, tell them it’s not fucking working. If you’re scared of going to the doc, you can try a suicide helpline. The Samaritans is the obvious one, but there are countless others all over the world, and many of them have email as well as phonecalls if you prefer typing. They are trained to talk to people in your specific shoes, so don’t be nervous about not knowing what to say, just ring and let them take the lead.
I promise you, things will get so much better and you’ll look back on this period of your life like it happened to someone else.
I’m way too fat nowadays to be a monobloc enjoyer 😭
As a kid trick-or-treating in 1980s’ N. Ireland, we used turnips. Carving those fuckers was an insanely dangerous and difficult thing for a child to do. They’re rock solid all the way through. Brutal. And ugly as fuck, which is at least in keeping with the spirit of things!
If you don’t wanna read Irish Central and have 20TB of cookies stored on your system, the Wikipedia article is better:
According to IMDb, the film was released in January this year (despite being a “2024” film), but this could well have been a festival release and not a general one, which is usually how it goes. Are you sure the film just hasn’t been released commercially yet?
No we fucking won’t 😂
If you get both top and bottom surgeries, you wraparound to the other end of the spectrum like Pac-Man and you’re just cisgender again.
who taught those belegged kiwi fruits physics??
I’m not being hyperbolic or lying for the sake of comedy, but the only games that ever made me feel violent were platformers with high frustration levels. I’ve never felt violent playing DOOM or Carmageddon or Postal 2. It’s pantomime violence, regardless of how realistic it looks. But Mario Bros. and Super Meat Boy? You’d better leave the house when I boot those shits up, and take the hammer with you.
It makes me think of hoarders. It just happens to be the case that money is universally sought-after, and so we think “it make money, is good!” But it’s not much different from someone with stacks of ancient newspapers filling 98% of their living space. It’s not like Jeff could actually spend all of that money even if he wanted to. He has more than he could ever need to live the most lavish and privileged of lifestyles, including giving the same to several generations of his offspring. He could still go to space and do all that crazy shit with 10% of what he has in his bank account. It can’t be normal.
Making the raindrops… chubby??
This collage looks like a serial killer’s vision board.
We have hot shites to show you.
Dawkins is a wanker.
Boots should really come with an exhaust so that with every step you’re pushing air/moisture out the back end. Nothing like a big pipe or anything, just a wee hole and a sort of bladder that fills with air when you lift your foot and pushes it out again when you step on it. Sure, you’ll sound like you’re stepping on farting mices everywhere you go, but if you just cough with each step you should be fine.
SOMA still lives in my brain 10 years later.
It’s a very dark part of conspiracism in general. The same tactics, both conscious and unconscious, are used to evangelise these ideas - and defend them despite being indefensible - as are used in all conspiracy theories and “alternative” views of established fact.
So, it has less to do with the available evidence, and more to do with personality flaws. It’s not even about reasoning skills or intelligence - the more intelligent you are, the less likely you’ll be to change your views because you’re so good at generating narratives that support your position. It’s a deep flaw in human psychology that can’t be reasoned away, and trying to combat these ideas with facts just reinforces them and gives them credibility (which is why no one with any sense debates Holocaust deniers anymore). It’s like when a schizophrenic person hallucinates; you don’t want to do or say anything that makes the hallucination seem real, you don’t want to say “where is the creature? Here? I’m stamping on it, is it gone? I don’t see it!” you simply accept that they’re hallucinating and don’t engage with it beyond that. Extreme example, but the logic is the same.
I see Big Gym is at it again.
they do if u kiss me
As a kid, I thought he was singing “Beelzebub has a devil for a sideboard” and I have never been able to correct it in my brain. I know what he’s actually singing, but the misapprehension is indelible. I don’t even know what I thought it meant, like he’s a demonic sideboard? A sentient set of shelves that Beelzebub stores his malevolent vases on? 🤷