GraniteM

There's a compilation album called Pomegranates - Persian Pop, Funk, Folk And Psych Of The 60s And 70s, and goddamn but does it make me want to see a '70s Iranian detective action movie with a fucking kickass soundtrack.

If you're looking for another Supreme Court watch podcast, I recommend Strict Scrutiny.

NOW YOU FUCKED UP!

A24 presents 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖕

My entire adult life, it's felt like Republicans are made in those Coca-Cola Freestyle machines where you can customize the flavor. The base flavor is always pro-big business, American imperialist, anti-women's rights, anti-intellectual. But then there's always an extra shot of flavor! Maybe it's something common, like being especially anti-queer, or rare like McCain having just a little squirt of integrity.

But sometimes it's weird! With Sarah Palin it was aerial wolf gunning! There was some other guy who was against laws forbidding dog fighting, because he said that because human boxing was allowed, outlawing dogfighting would elevate dogs above humans. And then you've got the likes of MTG where you just take ALL the flavors and mix them together.

So yeah, we can expect a steady stream of base flavor repellent Republican behavior, with notes of racism and sexism that will be familiar to anyone who was paying attention during the Obama administration or the Trump vs. Clinton campaign.

I have this book around here somewhere. It's charmingly positive, and I'd say it does a decent enough job of explaining what the internet is, considering when it came out.

The Deliverator belongs to an elite order, a hallowed subcategory. He's got esprit up to here. Right now, he is preparing to carry out his third mission of the night. His uniform is black as activated charcoal, filtering the very light out of the air. A bullet will bounce off its arachnofiber weave like a wren hitting a patio door, but excess perspiration wafts through it like a breeze through a freshly napalmed forest. Where his body has bony extremities, the suit has sintered armorgel: feels like gritty jello, protects like a stack of telephone books.

When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway—might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of a gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.

The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy Burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, and they didn't want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doo-hickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn't get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.

Higher-res original, if you like:

Hey, most pools have a bunch of wind turbine blades in them, but they're 99% insect turbine blades, so we don't even think twice about it.

He could be an associate of Jazz

I read that as "Left is in constant debate with itself" vs. "Right shakes hands and gets down to business"*

*^^horrible ^^horrible ^^business