What is he even saying???

It's such a life-changing game for me and a cultural touchstone. I can't believe it's almost been 10 years.

Also, not a huge fan of the apparent skill ceiling to even get to the secret boss. That's a bit frustrating.

Yeah that sounds right. From what I understand, Labour's been in bad shape since Thatcher under everyone but Corbyn, who they tried to kick to death in the press.

Exactly. The battle of the fallen political "good enoughs". It's genuinely interesting despite my personal disconnection. I can only imagine how much wilder it is for you.

This is the least important political question I've ever been deeply interested in the answer to.

Do I live in either of these places? No.

Will I ever? Probably not.

Do I still want to see the battle of these motherfuckers? Absolutely.

Split the difference, make them dress like the 3 Stooges.

I'm very excited for Thunderbolts so I'd love to hear your thoughts.

The best out of context videos I've found are of people like Caddicarus, whose jokes have so little context anyway that it's just universally funny to see them back to back.

Does anyone have cheese blindness or is that still just @sullivanbrown.bsky.social ?

Wet sock

But they will be better by far than the life I am forced to live for this next length of time, one where I know I still live with them near me.

The Squelch. The Sludge. They haunt me, and forever will.

The rest of it, to my agony, lies within my shoe... The place where I swiftly had to put my besocked and besotted foot back within.

I am not sure I am ready for the consequences of removing it from its prison, consequences that will have to wait until I arrive safely at my home...

The Sludge is a red, goopy substance only made possible through disintegration of the innards of my shoe. Not quite solid, nor liquid, its form is something more sinister. It seeks to stain anything it comes into contact with... And some of it lies on the floor beneath me, in its terracotta horror.

First was the stench. It was indescribable, only slightly approximated to the rotting of a wet garbage bag. It caused me to endeavor to make my sojourn out brief... Which caused the second piece to feel much worse.

The Squelch had reproduced, its hideous child describable only as... The Sludge.

Wet was one thing. I could handle wet. Once I had a moment, I could simply take it off and inspect it to see how much could be eliminated.

What I did not... Nay, could not have anticipated... Was what laid in store for me when I made the fateful decision to do exactly that when I sat on the train.

Like an unwelcome guest, The Squelch continued, marking every step with either its absence or its presence. No single movement was free of the thought of it. My sock within went from simply damp on the bottom to complete subsumed in moisture. My walk, and my life, was hell.

And then it got worse.