Bought a few bags of “live rosin” and “full spectrum” gummies today, mostly just to see what the hype is around them. First I can say that live rosin doesn’t do flavor any favors. It tastes like someone softened a cannabis plant stalk and that’s what I’m chewing on. The flavor is basically spot on for grass. It’s unsuppressible. No fruit additives or artificial flavors can tame the freshly mowed lawn in your mouth when you’re eating these damn things. Sure, regular ass cheap gummies have a hint of planty taste, but they still pack enough wallop to get you where you want to be. These live rosin gummies seem to be delayed onset, comparatively, and don’t seem to be as potent. It’s almost as if the CBD/CBG/CBN and other endocannabinoids aren’t doing much outside of suppressing the bare THC you’re hoping to feel. I’m glad we have variety. I’m glad we have choice. I’m also glad the everyman is controlling the market and the hipsters are relegated to snooty expensive bullshit that’s really subpar. You hipsters can have all this bullshit “live rosin”, it’s honestly only good for dabs. And even then, it usually isn’t worth the extra cost.

We’ve reached a new peak in the class war. Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy have thrown down and stated that they “need” H-1B visas because Americans are just retarded. Not my words. Theirs. Damn near verbatim.

Here’s my problem with this. They’re liars. They’re enormous fucking liars, and the reason they are compelled to hire H-1B visa holders is because they not only pay their salaries, but the H-1B visa holder has extra incentive to obey because they’ll be shipped back to their home country if they don’t play ball. Great way to prevent whole groups from unionizing. This is the modern equivalent to the Chicago Stockyards. There will be violence, and I don’t know if Musk is quite ready for that. There was violence then, too. It was the reason things changed. The violence ended corporate hegemony (such as scrip and corporate housing) and ushered in a new era of labor relations(unions and labor protections).

There are two things about myself that I hate. Two things I actively try to change or compensate for. I hate my pessimism, and I hate my rigidity. I’ve actually made some amount of progress on my rigidity. I’ve exposed myself to more things, new ideas, I’ve made actual progress against rigidity. It’s slow going, but it’s progress. Honestly, drugs have helped on that front. Weed makes me pretty chill, enough so to “go with the flow”. The pessimism, though- That’s been a far harder nut to crack. It drives me up a fucking wall, though. It really does. There are aspects of it that maybe are beneficial, but overall it goes over about as well as cement shoes in the open ocean. Some days I can’t determine which came first: the disappointment or the pessimism. And yet it’s truly a crutch. It’s something to lean on when you invest in something and don’t expect much in return. It drives me absolutely insane, though. What’s worse is that I don’t know how to improve it when statistically, it isn’t wrong. Stats are literally where pessimism lives. I guess if you deal in macabre numbers it stands to reason you’ll see macabre results. I don’t know. It drives me absolutely apeshit, though. I don’t know how to change it. Even when I want to change it, and I ask someone how to change it, I feel like the people telling me what to do are just feeding me bullshit. It’s crushing to feel this way most of the time. The weight of the burden is immense. I don’t know how to shed myself of it, and the closest I’ve ever gotten is smoking it away.

One day I decided that I would tell my mother she hurt my feelings in a healthy way. I explained to my mother that, if we’re really trying to improve our relationship, it might be important for us to spend time together. My mother formerly would go on vacations with me and my kids. Eventually she would go on vacations only with my ex wife. I told my mother that it hurts my feelings that she would not deem to spend such time with me but happily does so often with my ex, and that it would be important to me for her to make time for me.

People must think I’m stupid. Or maybe they think I’m easily manipulated? Not really sure which it is, but Jesus.

While some individuals may have characteristics of both disorders, making such a significant change in diagnosis can be complex and potentially harmful. It’s crucial to consider the individual’s specific symptoms, medical history, and family background.

Here are some factors to consider:

• Age of onset: BPD typically presents during adolescence or early adulthood, while ASD symptoms may be evident in early childhood.
• Severity of symptoms: BPD is typically characterized by more severe emotional dysregulation and interpersonal problems compared to ASD.
• Treatment response: BPD treatment has been shown to be more effective than ASD treatment for improving emotional regulation and reducing impulsive behaviors.
• Family history: Individuals with a family history of BPD are more likely to be diagnosed with BPD, while ASD is typically diagnosed in individuals with no family history of the disorder.

It’s important to note that changing the diagnosis can have significant implications for access to treatment, support services, and educational opportunities. Consulting with a mental health professional who specializes in both BPD and ASD is crucial for making an informed decision about the diagnosis.

It’s gonna be nice to have two weeks off. I need it, honestly. I need to recharge my batteries. The only thing I need more is to go someplace warm with a beach. That’s coming in February, thank God. It’s needed, earned, and heavily anticipated.

You know, I’m actually kinda proud of humanity. Collectively we’ve risen up to say that we’re not really sad about Brian Thompson’s death, and honestly, we’ll fuckin do it again if we have to. It’s unfortunate that they’re going to make an example of Luigi. The country already has a disturbing obsession with serial killers. Honestly, Luigi is not a serial killer, but he has absolutely legitimized murder via his victim choice. Brian Thompson was a slug. A worm. He knew he was exploiting UnitedHealth customers. He did so with great chagrin. I’ve been wanting to talk about media coverage of the murder. Mostly I think the press is running with public support for Luigi for a few reasons. One, it’s impossible to miss. It’s the elephant in the room. Two, it’s a little sensationalist. Yes, it’s very true. Hell, I’m celebrating Brian Thompson’s death. Fuck that guy. Got what he fuckin deserved. I hope Luigi gets off for it, too. I feel bad for his family, but they’ve enjoyed growing fat like ticks off the backs of people paying premiums to UnitedHealth. I don’t feel that bad for them. Their loss is society’s gain. It is a fair trade.

A system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked within cells interlinked within one stem… And dreadfully distinct against the dark, a tall white fountain played.

Obvious Blade Runner fan if you couldn’t tell. I think I finally have a handle on this blog again. It only took me yet another eternity. What a wild journey, though. From Wordpress to Jekyl to Hugo. I’ve used all manner of text editors, including notepad and even a weird Android text editor. I’m not super happy with the present theme, but I think I’m happy enough to not fuck with it for a minute. I might give that ‘reTerminal’ theme another whack at some point. That’ll be a ways out, I think. The one thing I wish this theme had that other themes do would be at least a summary or small snippet of each post body on the main page. Currently it’s just a line-by-line of topics. It’s okay, but I would prefer at least some 100 or so characters of each post were wedged in there somewhere.

Haaaaaahahahahahahahahaha.

Dumb borderline bitch got what she absolutely had coming. Hilarious.

Ray William Johnson did his own breakdown, but either way it’s just hilarious to watch.

He gives some context you don’t see in the raw cop footage. The psycho bitch was trying to use driveway gravel as a makeshift knuckleduster to kick her boyfriend’s ass.