ohitsbreadley

Why should I care that the MAGAt gravy seal wing of y'all qaida get drone striked into oblivion?

They're anti-american traitors, draping themselves in the American flag.

What the fuck did I just read.

If I had an ounce of skill as an artist I'd draw the image evoked by your 13 words.

Tiny milking machines hooked up to billions of restrained cockroaches, extracting their milky secretions.

God damnit

Unless they're evil radical leftist Democrats, those Marxist-Leninist Antifa communist fascist socialists. Then they'll be hanged.

MAGAts get a wrist slap.

I'd be afraid of a world where brides were illegal.

(Just a joke mate, reread the end of your comment - you clearly meant bribes, but wrote brides.)

I'm not sure that person meant that the obese should be made to pay more in automobile taxes specifically, but rather in health insurance premiums, or some other kind of ~~fat~~ excise tax.

I'm of the opinion that, assuming that a licensed medical provider has performed an appropriate evaluation that excludes the diagnosis of an underlying metabolic disorder that specifically causes one to be obese, there should be remuneration made to the health system for the consequences rendered by their behavioral decisions.

Theres already precedent for this with tobacco use.

I mean, having some water nymph toss a sword at someones feet is at least as good of a justification for governmental power - and if I'm honest, a better one at that.

It's like 40% more creative than "I have all the money and the big boogey man in the sky said I have the right to reign supreme - who are you to question God?"

Thank you for the hardcore wiki linking - sincerely, I appreciate the labor you put into this reply.

C3 is a certified Deutsch.

Wild that they could just... Change their house like that. "Oh all that family lineage and history, no, no the name sounds quite too much like those jerries - the peasants won't like it much - what now? yes yes, Windsor we are, always have been, chip cheerio - get in the trench my good chap, and fight my former brethren, I mean those awful germans."

Totally out of the loop on UK royalty, because they're basically just a medieval version of the Kardashians that's hung around waaaaay too long.

I was under the impression that the monarchy's power was predicated on their right to rule being divine, which could only be maintained by keeping their bloodline ~~inbred~~ pure.

Charles is German?

Ha it totally IS how one would write the Kiwi pronunciation for Bradley. Didn't even occur to me. I'm just a Brad that likes bread.

Thanks, did you know your username is a Dutch phrase meaning "headhunter"?

It could also be Norwegian, meaning "cup snails."

Where are these "men's groups" you speak of? As a "man," I've not heard of any, at least none that aren't inherently linked to toxic masc MAN-man personality traits.

...they put just enough oxygen in those helium canisters consumers can buy to stop people...

I'm not so sure that's true... At least, I know for certain it wasn't true for at least one brand of consumer grade helium canisters sold in the US, around 12 or 13 years ago.

In the early 2010s, I worked the day shift as an EMT for a small town ambulance company. One morning, right as I was clocking in for the 5am shift change, a call came in for an adult male unresponsive. My partner and I didn't think much of it - it was a college town and we worked the Friday morning shift, so it wasn't unusual to get early calls for drunk frat kids passed out in a yard from the Thirsty Thursday parties - don't get me wrong, these were often serious situations, but run of the mill stuff for the job. So we told the overnight volunteers to go home, jumped in the rig and got on our way to the scene.

I started to get a bad feeling on the way over though, because it was at the local fishing pier, which was in a park - kind of a scenic place, not really near the college - but my partner played it down, said rush week had just finished so it's probably some pledge bullshit or something.

We arrive at the park, pull into the parking lot, and see the police lights off to the right - the dock is off to the left, with a small beach to the right, with the parking lot overlooking the coast - the police officer has back against the trunk of a grey Nissan, thumbs in his vest, head hung low - looks up at the ambulance makes eye contact with me and shakes his head.

We get out of the rig, ask him what's going on, he tells us that we'll need to pronounce, and it isn't pretty.

I walk around the driver side of the car and see a kid in the front seat. He couldn't have been older than 20. There was a clear plastic bag over his head, the edges pulled taught to his neck with a length of string tied in a bow, the bag mostly inflated so it wasn't touching his face. There was one end of a tube inside the bag, held in place with an extra knot from the string. The other end traced back to a tank sitting on the front passenger seat, still in its cardboard box with pictures of happy children playing with balloons on the side. There was a bottle of brown liquor in the cupholder.

I'll never forget the blank stare of his semi-open eyes, set in his young, handsomely featured, yet now lifeless face - his skin the ashen, mottled, and pale blue-grey color of the recently deceased.

It was immediately obvious this young man had parked there for one last nice view of either a sunset or sunrise, drank up some courage, donned his gear, and drifted off to a final sleep.

I stood there only for a moment, but it felt like an eternity passed as I absorbed the emotional intensity of what had transpired there. I regained my sense of composure with the crack of my partner shattering the driver-door's window, saw him reach to check for a pulse, turning his head away after a moment while waiting for the full, painfully requisite 60 seconds, pronounced him dead, and we were back in the truck on our way back to the station.

I'm still not right from that call.

I really hope things have changed, and that manufacturers are required to add oxygen or bitter compounds or something that prevent this kind of thing from happening.

If you've read down this far, I thank you. Writing this out was helpful for me to process - I took a few minor liberties in writing this story, mostly to obfuscate potential recognition, and for dramatic effect - but made no changes to what I felt and saw in my description of that scene.

And lastly, if you're struggling with your mental health or substances - you're not alone. This world can be hard and cruel, terribly isolating and dark - but there is warmth and kindness too. If you feel like hurting yourself, please don't. You are loved. You will be missed by the ones who love you. If you're in crisis, and there's someone you know and trust, call them and talk to them. If they cant talk or don't pick up, or if there's no one you feel you can trust, call a crisis prevention hotline any time, any day, and they will listen to you with the utmost respect, dignity, and empathy.

[US and Canada] Call 988 for the suicide and crisis lifeline. Call 911 for life-threatening/imminent situations. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/suicide-prevention

[Most other countries] Call your local emergency line, most often it's 112 if you're outside of North America - they will direct you to help if you're in need.

Additional information: https://www.cnet.com/health/suicide-hotlines-crisis-hotlines-to-call-when-you-need-help/