Lae'zel’s character and her entire situation at the beginning of the game becomes so much more funny when you find out she’s 22. It makes so much sense. Imagine you’re 22 and you’re exposed to this dangerous toxin or chemical or something - but not to worry, you learnt that this can be easily fixed, you just need to dial 911 real quick. Common knowledge. Everyone knows that. You learnt that in kindergarten, it’s up there with fire alarm drills.
But the people you’re stuck with have no concept of modern medicine and when you say “let’s go to the hospital” they will say shit like “i think they kill people at the hospital” and “we should ask this swamp lady” or “this guy over there told me about this homoeopathic healer kind of guy but he got abducted” or “this random bard wants to help” and “I’m not going to dial 911 because I don’t want the government to know my home address” or “maybe we should consider a deal with Satan”. And then a bunch of them KEEP consuming the chemical because it makes them “stronger”. One guy might explode for unrelated reasons. You have a few days before this situation is getting critical and suddenly they’re solving crime and doing general charity for the community.
And FOR SOME REASON you still try to help these idiots and you STILL want to help them get the cure even though they all keep insisting the “doctors” at the “hospital” might try to “kill them” and they don’t have insurance. And you keep telling them to just. go. to. the. hospital. before the time runs out and you all die very horribly of a very treatable condition.
And also you’re 22 in a foreign country and you’re responsible for shepherding this gaggle of idiots who are all ranging anywhere from 24 to 240 years old.
I’ve been collecting the best Jorts tweets and waiting until the moment he showed up on my dash to post them. So here you are, the curated best of the past, oh, day or so:
Some additional quality memes from the past 24 hours:
Meanwhile, OP has continued tracking trash can mishaps on twitter:
And a quality photo of this sweet potato:
An update for those not following Jorts’ twitter account, starting with a transcription of the Wellerman cover:
There once was a ship that put to sea The name of the ship was the Jorts and Jean The ship she rolled and her closet doors closed Oh no, where’s Jorts? Oh no!
Soon may the smarter cat come To save poor Jorts so orange and dumb One day when the butterin’s done We’ll take our leave and go
When Pam came on, she had a plan To teach our Jorts about garbage cans Pam meant well but her plans fell flat When HR said, “don’t butter the cat”
Soon may the smarter cat come To save poor Jorts so orange and dumb One day when the butterin’s done We’ll take our leave and go
Now Jean the smart cat comes She saves poor Jorts so orange and dumb Now that the butterin’s done We’ll take our leave and go
We’ll take our leave and go
We’ll take our leave and go
Additional quality memes:
A recipe for Buttered Jorts:
Recent Jorts activities:
And some very wise words from the cat himself:
This is the largest Jorts post I found before I decided to stop, and combines a lot of memes in one convenient package.
Along with cats, of course. Smartly done!
The person running the Jorts Twitter is using it to promote unions, which is awesome.
FNALLY! All the premium Jorts content in one place!
Many excellent editions to the classic Jorts post <3
“That sounds like a good idea…….”-“Is there something bothering you with the idea?”-“No, the idea is GOOD…..🙂”
Can someone explain this to me?
Old people use quotation marks to indicate emphasis, as a substitute for italics (which many of them could not produce on the old typewriters they learned to write on), whereas young people use them to indicate sarcasm or falseness. They’re used as “scare quotes”.
And old people use ellipses simply to indicate a pause, or for some other incomprehensible reason I’m not aware of. But young people use ellipses to indicate passive-aggression.
So an old person could type something like:
how are things going with your “boyfriend”….
and what they mean is
How are things going with your boyfriend? [Im so excited for you, sweetie, and I wanna hear about it]
But a young person would interpret that sentence as
How are things going with your so-called boyfriend…. [I say, while seething with contempt for him and possibly for you too]
I regularly have to re-explain to older family members that putting a period at the end of
Thank you.
in a text doesn’t mean “Your effort on my behalf is valued as significant and of import, and I do not wish to underplay the sincerity of my gratitude”
but in fact means “I despise you and all your progeny and kin with the icy fury of a dying star; when I slaughter you it will be in cold blood”
It’s very important to me that younger queers understand this: to the people who you’re trying to be more respectable for when you say things like neopronouns set the trans movement back or you’re why the cishets don’t accept us or including [aces/bi people with the ‘wrong kind’ of partners/non-binary people/kinksters/non-passing trans ppl/furries/polyam people] just hurts us, can’t you wait until we get all our rights before we talk about some of yours? – to those people? Pete Buttigieg is just a fag.
On Sunday at Pride Northwest, some kids – late teens, early 20s – asked what our button I survived Reagan for this? meant. All of the queer adults at the tables making up our ad hoc counter looked at each other and sighed a little. Emet and another adult started to explain the way that the Reagan Administration handled – or didn’t handle – the beginning of the AIDS crisis. How many people died. How much we were ignored. The Ashes Action. The Time Magazine article which explicitly blamed bisexual men for passing the pandemic to the cishet community, playing on all the worst stereotypical bullshit. The way that even when the CDC started paying attention, they were so focused on gay men that they ignored AIDS in the lesbian community, leading to the “women don’t get AIDS, they just die from it” poster. And so on.
I finished counting out change and passed the last Bear Pride raised fist pin over to a bear a little older than me, then turned my head and interjected, “they didn’t care until it started infecting more than just the fags.” I turned my head back and handed him his change. He laughed bitterly and said, “remember when they called it 'gay cancer?’”
That what I need you to understand. The people for whom you are folding yourself into smaller and smaller boxes will never see you as anything but a freak. A queer. A dyke. A tranny. A fag.
Never.
These are people who will stand by and let you wither away and die alone, gasping for breath in a cinderblock room, and not even claim your ashes, and they will say you deserve it, because of your lifestyle. If they speak of you at all it will be by the wrong name, with the pictures you hate the most. They will curse at your lover, throw him out of the home you shared, and steal the gift you gave last Christmas to throw it in the trash just so he can’t have it and they’ll say Jesus loves you! while they do it. They’ll feel good and righteous and blessed and holy and pure for doing it.
And for them, you spit in the eye of your sister. For them, you disavow your sibling. For their sake, you trim away bits of your heart and lace yourself up tight. Never too loud. Never too queer. Never inconvenient or embarrassing, never asking for too much.
Pete Buttigieg is what happens when your Boomer dad turns out gay. Middle America. Parents still married. Suburban-sprouted. Valedictorian. Harvard-educated. Rhodes Scholarship. Military service. More power to him: I hope he and Chasten are very happy together. Genuinely, I do.
You couldn’t create a more respectable gay if you grew one in a lab run by concerned voter focus groups.
Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, and so am I. Unless I’m a dyke, which seems to depend on who’s yelling what from which window and what day it is.
Yes, there will be people who genuinely love and accept you. Those people are worth all the frustration of the rest, thankfully, and they’re the ones who love you in a pup mask or a leather harness and a neon jock like the ones sold by the men up the row from us last weekend. They’re the ones who laugh out loud when you tell them you hid the word “dyke” in your company name, the ones who love you in all your messiness and uncertainty and the way you don’t fit into neat boxes all scrubbed up and clean.
Most cishets, though… well, they don’t actively mean you specifically any harm, at least not when they have to look at you. Not when you’re right there in front of them. Maybe they’ll be okay with you, personally, especially if you’re the kind of gay who makes a good rhetorical device, and as long as you remain a good rhetorical device.
They need people to know that they don’t have a problem with the gays, after all, and there you are, being all convenient. You make a nice token, and as long as you do, well. You’re useful.
But they call you by your deadname when you’re not around, and they put the wrong pronouns in your medical record even though they met you years after you came out, and they won’t put themselves out to save you. Not one little bit.
I didn’t want to be here again. The year I graduated from high school was the worst year of the AIDS crisis. The world into which I became an adult was a world in which an advisor and friend to Reagan, William F. Buckley, openly advocated for forcibly tattooing the HIV status of HIV+ gay men on their buttocks (and IV drug users on their forearms), and in which my father not only told me that when I was 14 or so, but when was told me that he’d advocated for that tattoo being “over their assholes.”
(Buckley wrote that in '86, but he doubled down on it in 2005.
Fucker.)
But yeah. I didn’t want to be here again. I wanted my daughter to inherit a better world. I wanted Obergefell and Lawrence v. Texas and Hope & Change to really mean something. I work for it, today and all days. I haven’t given up.
I need you to know that, too. This isn’t a white flag. I’m not surrendering. This isn’t over. To misquote Henry Rollins, this is what Marsha and Sylvia and Stormé and Leslie and Brenda and Auntie Sugar trained us for. This is punk rock time.
But I need you to understand that if Pete Buttigieg is just a fag, if that human embodiment of a Wonder Bread, mayo and Oscar Meyer bologna sandwich is not respectable enough for them – and he’s not – then the rest of us have absolutely no hope of measuring up. Not even if we trim away every colorful, beautiful piece of our community, not even if the Sisters Of Perpetual Indulgence vanish into the ether, not even if we sacrifice the five elements of vogue on the altar of white supremacist cishet middle-class conformity: we can’t trim ourselves down to something they’ll accept.
The only other option is radical acceptance of our queer selves. The only other option is solidarity. The only other option is for fats and femme queens and drags and kinksters and queers and zine writers and sex workers and furries and addicts and kids and the ones who can look us in the eye and see all of us to say we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it just the way we did 30 years ago. It’s revolutionary, complete and total acceptance of our entire community, not just the ones the cishets can pretend to be comfortable with as long as we don’t challenge them too much, or it’s conceding the shoreline inch by inch to the rising waters of fascism until we’ve got nowhere left to stand and some of us start drowning.
That’s it. Either it’s all of us or it’s none of us, because if we leave the answer up to the Reagans of the world and all the people who enabled him in the name of lower taxes and Democrats who wring their hands, weeping oh I don’t agree with it but we’ll lose the election if we fight it right now, the answer is none of us.
1. The Republican Party turns out for EVERY vote. Primaries, local elections, midterms, you name it. Most dems show up once every four year and then get defeatist when things don’t immediately change. It took the Republicans YEARS to overturn RvW but it has been a long game goal of theirs. YEARS of voting, and you’re gonna opt out after one vote. Okay.
2. Primaries are when you vote for who you want. Elections are when you vote for who you can. If you’re not voting in the primary, you’re letting the moderate centrist do-nothing candidate win.
3. Local elections affect your daily life. That sherif in Texas who is refusing to enforce the abortion ban? Local election. Gerrymandering, voter suppression, so much of this is trickle up from local politics.
4. Call your damn representatives. Even if it feels hopeless. The gun control reform that just passed (as minimal as it is) was bipartisan because people showed their reps that they wanted change. Get vocal as a voter and prove courting your vote matters.
5. If someone in your area is running for office and needs votes, be a signature for them. Not everyone can afford to pay to run. You want to support better candidates, put your name behind them (only in your district and always read what you’re signing first).
6. The two party system is shit. We know that. But the democrats are a big tent housing a lot of different opinions and trying to cater to them all. Republicans are generally united in one mission of dismantling everything and protecting only their own. This is also why Dems don’t have the same type of “super majority” and can’t easily whip the same voting results. And anyone who thinks Obama had a super majority for enough time to codify roe does not understand politics. He had about 18 days of actual in-session time, split into two different sessions.
7. Purity politics isn’t going to get you anywhere. The candidate is a bus stop getting you closer to where you want to be. They’re not the end goal, and a smart voter knows that.
8. Voter suppression is huge in America. Help other voters register and get to the polls. It’s not always indifference keeping people from voting. Do something to help disenfranchised voters.
Let me repeat: The two party system is shit. We need to get rid of the electoral college. We need ranked choice voting. We need to get rid of Citizens United. Our country is an oligarchy. Always has been. Not denying that. But Living in these ideals of what we should be without creating any change now isn’t going to get you anywhere. Being defeatist and abstaining from the process is cutting off your own nose to spite your face. Its saying “the other team is scoring too many goals, so instead of playing, I’m just gonna sit on the sidelines. That’ll teach everyone.” No, you’re just gonna keep losing. Maybe, instead, vote in the primaries and choose better teammates.
Y’all kill me with these “hot takes.” They ain’t even half baked.
Now, if you want to talk about the other things we should be doing IN ADDITION TO voting, like general strikes, organizing, etc. Then that’s a different conversation we should also be having.
