Daniel Keys Moran

@fatsam.bsky.social

1273 Followers 321 Following

"Be the white whale agent, or be the white whale principal, I will wreak that hate upon him." ~~~~~ Those who make peaceful change impossible will make violent change inevitable.

Bluesky asking me to prove my age, because I'm coming in my VPN on a Houston node.
Vincent: It's the little differences. I mean, they got the same shit over there that we got here, but it's just...it's just, there it's a little different. Jules: Example? Vincent: All right. Well, you can walk into a movie theater in Amsterdam and buy a beer. And I don't mean just like in no paper cup; I'm talking about a glass of beer. And in Paris, you can buy a beer at McDonald's. And you know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris? Jules: They don't call it a Quarter Pounder with Cheese? Vincent: Nah, man, they got the metric system. They wouldn't know the fuck a Quarter Pounder is. Jules: What do they call it? Vincent: They call it a "Royale with Cheese." Jules: "Royale with Cheese." Vincent: That's right. Jules: What do they call a Big Mac? Vincent: A Big Mac's a Big Mac, but they call it "Le Big Mac." Jules: [in mock French accent] "Le Big Mac." [laughs] What do they call a Whopper? Vincent: I don't know, I didn't go in a Burger King
MINAS TIRITH Pippin looked out from the shelter of Gandalf’s cloak. He wondered if he was awake or still sleeping, still in the swift-moving dream in which he had been wrapped so long since the great ride began. The dark world was rushing by and the wind sang loudly in his ears. He could see nothing but the wheeling stars, and away to his right vast shadows against the sky where the mountains of the South marched past. Sleepily he tried to reckon the times and stages of their journey, but his memory was drowsy and uncertain. There had been the first ride at terrible speed without a halt, and then in the dawn he had seen a pale gleam of gold, and they had come to the silent town and the great empty house on the hill. And hardly had they reached its shelter when the winged shadow had passed over once again, and men wilted with fear. But Gandalf had spoken soft words to him, and he had slept in a corner, tired but uneasy, dimly aware of comings and goings and of men talking and Gandalf giving orders. And then again riding, riding in the night. This was the second, no, the third night since he had looked in the Stone. And with that hideous memory he woke fully, and shivered, and the noise of the wind became filled with menacing voices.
Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh are walking down a path together, holding hands. Pooh: If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus a day, so I never have to live without you. CR: Haha, I feel the same, silly old bear. Pooh: So we will die together then... CR: Yeah, wait .... what? Pooh: The pact is sealed.
"Every meaningful change in law, every improvement in civil rights, in my entire life, has come about because of the Democratic Party. Not the fucking Greens, not "good" Republicans: Democrats. Only Democrats." Some Northern Republicans did everyone a solid back in the 60s, voting for the Civil Rights legislation. All those people are Dems today. A bunch of Southern Dems voted against it, and those people are Republicans today. So the above technically has an exception, if just barely.
There's something generically silly about older people who are strongly focused on sex. I reread Heinlein's some years back -- at one point this aged male writer puts into his young female protagonist's mouth the words: "Sex is a better tranquilizer than any of those drugs and much better for your metabolism. I don’t see why human people make such a heavy trip out of sex. It isn’t anything complex; it is simply the best thing in life, even better than food." I can think of any number of things better than sex. People, their dignity, kindnesses done, love, trust, courage ... I've had dinners that *were* better than some sexual encounters. (And great sex with people I loved that was better than any possible food.) But the truth is I've never had great sex with someone I didn't love. It takes time to learn how someone else works.
"At drinking time I left Meyer at the wheel and went below and broke out the very last bottle of the Plymouth gin which had been bottled in the United Kingdom. All the others were bottled in the U.S. Gin People, it isn’t the same. It’s still a pretty good gin but it is not a superb, stingingly dry, and lovely gin. The sailor on the label no longer looks staunch and forthright, but merely hokey. There is something self-destructive about Western technology and distribution. Whenever any consumer object is so excellent that it attracts a devoted following, some of the slide rule and computer types come in on their twinkle toes and take over the store, and in a trice they figure out just how far they can cut quality and still increase the market penetration. Their reasoning is that it is idiotic to make and sell a hundred thousand units of something and make a profit of thirty cents a unit, when you can increase the advertising, sell five million units, and make a nickel profit a unit. Thus the very good things of the world go down the drain, from honest turkey to honest eggs to honest tomatoes. And gin." - The Dreadful Lemon Sky.
“How did the widows and the orphans make out when you two were operating?” “They stood in line for it, boy. They always do. Ring the bell and the suckers come on the run. In this world, you either take or you’re tooken. Figures lie and liars figure, and the only thing worth all the trouble is a good bourbon, a good bed and a busy woman. There are a hundred and fifty thousand new folks, net, in the world every day, and the sun will set on all but one or two of them before they can even get to lift their head. So set the hook deep while you got the chance.” “The Yeoman philosophy.” “It’s worked so far.” He turned into his drive and I said, as he parked it, “It’s worked fine, I guess, Jass. You’re in such great shape right now.” As we walked toward the doorway of his house he said, “But think how good I had it, and how long I had it good.” -- John D. MacDonald, A Purple Place for Dying.
Fatsam's sister was on vacation in Portugal, so FatSam had brought home two steaks, which his sister, a vegetarian, didn't like smelling when she was home: and a small box of peanut butter cookies, which she did eat but would mock him for. He took two cookies out of the box, and both the dogs came and stood before him, hoping. He broke one of the cookies in two -- usually he broke the treats into a 3/4 size treet, and a 1/4 size treat, because Ivy was three times Raylan's size. This time the cookie snapped plain in half. He made the dogs sit and gave one half to each. Raylan, the puppy, dropped his instantly and leaped at the bigger dog, to try to get the cookie out of her mouth. He had, in the months they'd lived together, decided Ivy was getting better treats than him, mostly because hers were almost always larger. Ivy wolfed down her treat and Raylan didn't manage to snatch any of it out of her mouth. FatSam laughed. "They're the exact same treat, you halfwit!" He knew Raylan didn't know what halfwit meant, and he didn't say it in a mean voice, so Raylan didn't realize he'd been mocked. Raylan ignored him, stalked over to where his half of the cookie lay on the floor, and sat down to eat it, as sadly as it was possible for a dog to eat a peanut butter cookie.
"Alongside the viciousness of much of German politics in the Weimar years was an incongruous innocence: few people could imagine the worst possibilities. A civilized nation could not possibly vote for Hitler, some had thought. When he became chancellor nonetheless, millions expected his time in office to be short and ineffectual. Germany was a notoriously law-abiding as well as cultured land. How could a German government systematically brutalize its own people? German Jews were highly assimilated and patriotic. Many refused to leave their homeland, even as things got worse and worse. "I am German and am waiting for the Germans to come back; they have gone to ground somewhere," Victor Klemperer wrote in his diary -- he was the son of a rabbi and a veteran of the First World War who chose to stay, and miraculously survived. Few Germans in 1933 could imagine Treblinka or Auschwitz, the mass shootings of Babi Yar or the death marches of the last months of the Second World War. It is hard to blame them for not foreseeing the unthinkable. Yet their innocence failed them, and they were catastrophically wrong about their future. We who come later have one advantage over them: we have their example before us." Benjamin Carter Hett, The Death of Democracy: Hitler's Rise To Power
A handsome young archer, looks a bit like his father, taking aim.
Massachusetts #1 in Public Education, #2 in Healthcare, #1 in quality of life. Oklahoma #49 in Public Education, #46 in Healthcare, #46 in Quality of Life.
Cover of the novel "The Black Cauldron," by Lloyd Alexander, with Princess Eilonwy center in a red dress, with red hair.
On arid Anarres, the communities had to scatter widely in search of resources, and few of them could be self-supporting, no matter how they cut back their notions of what is needed for support. They cut back very hard indeed, but to a minimum beneath which they would not go; they would not regress to pre-urban, pre-technological tribalism. They knew that their anarchism was the product of a very high civilization, of a complex diversified culture, of a stable economy and a highly industrialized technology that could maintain high production and rapid transportation of goods. Ursula K Le Guin, "The Dispossessed"
Man in a spacesuit, on the moon, standing in front of a lunar city. Title is "Growing Up Weightless" by John M. Ford.
Happy Father's Day, to all of you who carried that weight. Youngest boy got put into the management program at his company -- salary near doubled. When he got out he was sad, because there were no manager's positions available at that moment, and he assumed he'd have his salary revert. Nope. Not only did his salary stay at the new level, but he was selected to star in a video for their internal hiring managers -- he's the example (the only one) of a "good hire," and the video's going to be shown at the upcoming shareholder's meeting. Happy Father's Day to me, too. 5x5 the kids are fit and smart and hard working. They were always going to be smart, that's mostly genetics: but the rest, I'll take my share of credit. I'm damn near done: none of them need me any more, except in odd moments, and that's winning.
Photo of Robert Plant with the Runaways, with a handsome young man in the background.
Be cautious of people who want to describe politics in terms of generations. Your generation sucks. Almost all groups do, outside groups defined by their virtuous conduct. And? It's going to suck worse as it ages. People you thought were okay will turn out not to be. People who *were* okay will sour as life disappoints and abuses them. People who stood until the end? Who fought the good fight and never quit? They're worth listening to. But you can't outsource the fight even to the ones who stayed true all the way through. Even the virtuous weaken with time. It's your fight, for the rest of your life. No one is coming to the rescue.
FAUSTUS: Was not that Lucifer an Angell once? MEPHOSTOPHILIS: Yes Faustus, and most deerely lov'd of God. FAUSTUS: How comes it then that he is Prince of Devils? MEPHOSTOPHILIS: O, by aspiring pride and insolence, For which God threw him from the face of heaven. FAUSTUS: And what are you that live with Lucifer? MEPHOSTOPHILIS: Unhappy spirits that fell with Lucifer, Conspir'd against our God with Lucifer, And are for ever damn'd with Lucifer. FAUSTUS: Where are you damn'd? MEPHOSTOPHILIS: In hell. FAUSTUS: How comes it then that thou art out of hell? MEPHOSTOPHILIS: Why this is hell: nor am I out of it. Think'st thou that I who saw the face of God, And tasted the eternall Joyes of heaven, Am not tormented with ten thousand hels, In being depriv'd of everlasting blisse?
FatSam and his sister Jodi had been walking their dogs, and they were almost home. At the last corner they waited for the light. A possibly homeless man -- clean, but carrying most of his possessions, it appeared -- joined them at the corner, and took a step out onto the street. Raylan immediately leaped off the curb into the street himself. There were no cars coming, so FatSam merely tightened his grasp on the leash. To Raylan, he said sternly, "You don't step out into the street. *I* will tell you when to walk." The probably homeless man jerked, looked at FatSam, and took a step back. No one said anything until the light changed. Then FatSam with Raylan, and Jodi with Ivy, crossed the street. The man hurried across and crossed the street to the other side. Raylan said, "Me and him could swap places and you could walk him on a leash. *He's* compliant."
A pair of lemons sliced in half, showing that they are almost all rind, with a tiny core of actual lemon. Caption is: "come on."
“She ought to have loved him,” Sally said. “Ought don’t count for as much as a gnat, when you’re talking about love,” Clara said. “She didn’t. You seen her. She didn’t even care for Martin. We’ve already given July and Martin more love than that poor woman ever gave them. I don’t say that to condemn her. I know she had her troubles, and I doubt she was often in her right mind. I’m sorry she had no more control of herself to run off from her husband and child and get killed.” She stopped, to let the girls work on the various questions a little. It interested her which they would pick as the main point. “We want July to stay,” Betsey said finally. “You’ll just make him run off, being so stern, and then he’ll get butchered up too.” “You think I’m that bad?” Clara asked, with a smile. “You’re pretty bad,” Betsey said. Clara laughed. “You’ll be just as bad if you don’t reform,” she said. “I got a right to my feelings too, you know. We’re doing a nice job of taking care of July Johnson. It just gripes me that he let himself be tromped on and can’t even figure out that it wasn’t right, and that he didn’t like it.”
NC woman says former US Senator broke up her marriage, files alienation of affection lawsuit Friday, January 16, 2026 NORTH CAROLINA WOMAN SUING FORMER U.S. SENATOR FOR ALLEGED AFFAIR The lawsuit claims that Krysten Sinema engaged in an affair with a Moore County woman's husband, leading to the end of the marriage.
Rainbow colored brick with the text "PRIDE WAS A RIOT."
sarahweekslocusblog<sarahweekslocusblog@proton.me> To: ​You​ To make the process as simple as possible, payment can be made securely using the invoice link below: https://buy.stripe.com/28EbJ0ePx11D26h0LWgnK47 Once the payment has been completed, please send over a screenshot of the payment confirmation or a copy of the receipt for our records. As soon as we receive verification, we'll proceed with the next steps and ensure everything is prepared accordingly. I look forward to hearing from you.
Public's Negative Views of Institutions Not Limited to Government Effectonway things are going in the country. Positive % - Negative % - Other/DK % Banks & financial inst 22 - 69 - 10 Congress 22 - 65 - 12 Federal government 25 - 65 - 9 Large corporations 25 - 64 - 12 National news media 31 - 57 - 12 Federal agencies & depts. 31 - 54 - 16 Entertainment industry 33 - 51 - 16 Labor unions 32 - 49 - 18 Obama administration 45 - 45 - 10 Colleges & universities 61 - 26 - 13 Churches & religious orgs. 63 - 22 - 15 Small businesses 71 - 19 - 10 Technology companies 68 - 18 - 14 Pew Research Center March 11-21 Q18a-n. Figures may not add to100% because of rounding
So I turned my back—and saw a pair of Yeshu’a bar Abbas’ brigands hanging from crosses on the brow of the hill. I tried to turn away from that, too. But I couldn’t. I stood there with my eyes stretched so wide they hurt, staring at them. They must have been there for quite some time, overnight, surely, because they’d already lost control and befouled themselves. Green stinking human dung slid slowly down the crosses between their bent legs. Their bellies were swollen tight as drums. Tongues the color and texture of three-day-old calf liver protruded from their mouths. Their penises dripped bloody urine. Their testicles were grossly swollen and had turned purple. Their hands and feet, beyond the places where the ropes bit flesh, were blue blobs. The flies explored every aperture, every hollow of their bodies. Oh yes, these were the same men who, according to your Gospels, either taunted Yeshu’a from their crosses, or disputed with one another in long and ringing sentences over his righteousness, and had Gan Eden promised one of them by him. Theophilos, tell me: In the Unutterable, Unspeakable, Unknowable Name of God, what kind of lunatics wrote those Sacred Books of yours?
“I don’t love Rome, Lucius Pontius. I hate the slavery you impose on us. But I am an oriental, a Semite, with an oriental’s patience. I believe that if we wait, endure, you will fall of your own weight, your own vices, of the luxury that is ruining you. You're no longer the lean, hungry Italian wolf pups who conquered the world. You’re fat and soft and effeminate. You love boys as much as the Greeks do. As far as women are concerned, you’ve forgot what your phalli and your gonads are for, so busy are you at switching ends. Which means you don’t produce children to maintain your undisputed military and governing genius. Your legions are filled with towering blond beasts from your dark northern frontiers. People who have neither wine nor sun nor song in them, who have nothing in them but their abysmal cruelty, who can never be civilized, who can only imitate, counterfeit civilization, while remaining northern barbarians to the end of time—”
You’d probably say, good Nazarene, Christianos, that I have imagined you to be, that sin is what is offensive to God. But there you lose me. And not, as in your pious wrath or wrathful piety you would surely accuse me, because I am incapable of grasping so vast a concept. God’s vastness does not elude me; what escapes me is His morality. I'd say, to judge by what He permits to happen daily in His world, that absolutely nothing whatsoever offends Him, no matter how fiendishly cruel or nauseously vile. I saw how He allowed my Helvi’s goodness, chastity, fidelity, piety, purity to be rewarded; I felt the glutinous, obscenely stinking mess that once had been her sweet flesh, pull free in my hands. I witnessed your Lord’s death in awful agony upon a felon’s cross. With that horror I could fill pages, and granting the logorrhea from which I suffer, I probably will. I lived through the pogroms committed against my (and supposedly His!) defenseless people in Cesarea and Alexandria, I saw babies’ heads smashed against walls, maidens stripped naked and forced to eat swine’s flesh in the theatres before being violated to the vast edification of the roaring mobs. Permit me, then, to pay your God the respect of disbelief for, by the plain evidences of history, in the moral sense he is, at best, irrelevant; and, at worst, a monster. And, even by my definition of it, demon worship is a sin.
“Listen to me,” Legal Siegel said. “There is no more noble a cause on this planet than to stand for the wrongly accused. You can’t fuck this up, kid.” I nodded and kept my head bowed. “Guilt,” he said. “You have to get by it. Let the ghosts go or they’ll take you under and you’ll never be the lawyer you are supposed to be. You will never see the big picture.” - Michael Connelly, Gods of Guilt
Panel 1: What normal people see Panel 2: Pic of Jupiter Panel 3: What NASA sees Panel 4: a slingshot
Photograph of two keyboards, one missing even its own function row, and a slightly larger keyboard with close to the original IBM PC layout.
Screenshot of a message from Facebook: 2 May 2026 We removed your post The post: Daniel Keys Moran 28 Apr 2026 FB will get all antsy if | say that traitors should be hanged again. You shared this on your profile
NATIONAL SECURITY With no radical footprint, what drove suspect to try and assassinate Trump? APRIL 28, 2026 - 5:05 PM ET Odette Yousef
Jan 6 terrorists climbing the walls outside the Capitol. Caption: "More pardoned J6ers have been convicted in child SA cases than trans people in the last year."
All of us have disappointments in our lives. Places we failed. Missteps in careers, missteps in the arts, for those of us who are artists. Missteps with the people in our lives. But at the end of it all there's just you. You may not be what you wanted to be, but are you who you wanted to be? I am exactly who I wanted to be when I was younger. (Well, not a grandfather yet. But I have hopes there.) I don't know what more you can really ask for. The only thing you can control in the world is the quality of your effort. And if, by that effort, you get to the end feeling good about yourself? You're a winner, buddy.
Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder. Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels. Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies. Elves are glamorous. They project glamour. Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment. Elves are terrific. They beget terror. The thing about words is that meanings can twist just like a snake, and if you want to find snakes look for them behind words that have changed their meaning. No-one ever said elves are nice. Elves are bad.
A Facebook post from 7 Apr 2026: "Just for the record, suggesting that traitors should hang is likely to get you a vacation from this site. Given the owners of this site support those traitors, though, | won't pretend | don't understand." "You shared this on your profile," Fashbook says.
”Anyone who sees clearly sees chaos everywhere. Art is a way of temporarily setting order to confusion. Temporary and incomplete; that’s why we never run out of new art. Anyone who comes to the tools of art without that sense of confusion is an invader.” “That’s not really fair.” “Nothing against dabblers,” he said quickly. “Cheaper than psychotherapy. But supposedly serious artists who think they know, know, what a human being is and where he stands in relation to the universe, they’re nothing but hacks. Propagandists for false values.”
Screenshot from the 4K HDR 1959 "Ben Hur." A column of Roman soldiers march through the countryside, with bright greens and brilliant reds.
A Willie and Joe cartoon, by Bill Maudlin. A soldier stomps by glaring at Willie and Joe, and the caption is "That can't be no combat man. He's looking for a fight."
Share of adults from each country who say the US, China, Russia or the EU represent the biggest threat to peace Canada US: 48% China: 10% Russia: 29% EU: 2% Germany US: 19%% China: 10% Russia: 56% EU: 8% France US: 20% China: 4% Russia: 55% EU: 5% UK US: 25% China: 7% Russia: 53% EU: 4%
First they came for refugees And I yelled because I had read the poem But so had they And they planned that way And it never stopped Then they came for trans people And Hispanics who were born here And black people And queer people And soccer moms and nurses And no one stopped them If you're not armed you should be
The works of the roots of the vines, of the trees, must be destroyed to keep up the price, and this is the saddest, bitterest thing of all. Carloads of oranges dumped on the ground. The people came for miles to take the fruit, but this could not be. How would they buy oranges at twenty cents a dozen if they could drive out and pick them up? And men with hoses squirt kerosene on the oranges, and they are angry at the crime, angry at the people who have come to take the fruit. A million people hungry, needing the fruit -- and kerosene sprayed over the golden mountains. And the smell of rot fills the country. Burn coffee for fuel in the ships. Burn corn to keep warm, it makes a hot fire. Dump potatoes in the rivers and place guards along the banks to keep the hungry people from fishing them out. Slaughter the pigs and bury them, and let the putrescence drip down into the earth. There is a crime here that goes beyond denunciation. There is a sorrow here that weeping cannot symbolize. There is a failure here that topples all our success. The fertile earth, the straight tree rows, the sturdy trunks, and the ripe fruit. And children dying of pellagra must die because a profit cannot be taken from an orange. And coroners must fill in the certificate -- died of malnutrition -- because the food must rot, must be forced to rot. The people come with nets to fish for potatoes in the river, and the guards hold them back; they come in rattling cars to get the dumped oranges, but the kerosene is sprayed. And they stand still and watch the potatoes float by, listen to the screaming pigs being killed in a ditch and covered with quick-lime, watch the mountains of oranges slop down to a putrefying ooze; and in the eyes of the people there is the failure; and in the eyes of the hungry there is a growing wrath. In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage. John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath
1950s style woman holding a cup of tea. Classy looking. Caption: "THEY'RE DOING IT AGAIN BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T HANG THEM LAST TIME."
Scooby Doo gang has captured a fake ghost, labeled 'JUST SIDES ARE JUST AS BAD!' Fred reaches for the mask: In the second panel, the reveal: it's not an asshole halfwit, but a MAGA pretending.
Photograph of Jim Rockford, played by James Garner, in the Rockford files.
“You know, when I was a little girl, I had a funny idea.” “Spill it.” “I was happy myself, but as I grew up I could see that my mother wasn’t. And my father wasn’t. My teachers weren’t—most of the adults around me weren’t happy. I got an idea in my head that when you grew up you found out something that kept you from ever being happy again. You know how a kid is treated: ‘You’re not old enough to understand, dear,’ and ‘Wait till you grow up, darling, and then you’ll understand.’ I used to wonder what the secret was they were keeping from me and I’d listen behind doors to try and see if I couldn’t find out.” “Born to be a detective!” “Shush. But I could see that, whatever it was, it didn’t make the grownups happy; it made ’em sad. Then I used to pray never to find out.” She gave a little shrug. “I guess I never did.” He chuckled. “Me neither. A professional Peter Pan, that’s me. Just as happy as if I had good sense.” She placed a small gloved hand on his arm. “Don’t laugh, Teddy. That’s what scares me about this Hoag case. I’m afraid that if we go ahead with it we really will find out what it is the grownups know. And then we’ll never laugh again.” - the Unpleasant Profession of Jonathan Hoag
Mitch Foster “The rebel alliance were always the bad guys... Just open your eyes and see what sort of bullshit they allow and enable. Human trafficking, sex-slavery, extreme poverty, guerrilla warfare, stolen tech, cannibalism, cloning, etc.. Meanwhile? You only see the Deathstar when the Empire is represented in those movies... Never... The peaceful and organized star systems, the warfare against space pirates, the endless other planets where order brings peace. See... Sith are just redpilled Jedi. Jedi that realized long ago, it's not all rainbows and unicorns out there...
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all people are created equal, that they are endowed at birth with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among the People, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it.
"If the average man thinks at all, he does silly things like generalizing from a single datum. He uses one-valued logics. If he is exceptionally bright, he may use two-valued, ‘either-or’ logic to arrive at his wrong answers. If he is hungry, hurt, or personally interested in the answer, he can’t use any sort of logic and will discard an observed fact as blithely as he will stake his life on a piece of wishful thinking. He uses the technical miracles created by superior men without wonder nor surprise, as a kitten accepts a bowl of milk. Far from aspiring to higher reasoning, he is not even aware that higher reasoning exists. He classes his own mental process as being of the same sort as the genius of an Einstein. Man is not a rational animal; he is a rationalizing animal."
Sheari Viri "wE doN't Know the LoNgtErM eFfecTs OF pUberTy bLockerS!!1!" Except we do because we've been using them for over 40 years to treat cis kids with precocious puberty. The drugs have been deemed safe because they ARE safe or else we wouldn't still be using them. Puberty blockers are also #reversible "tHeY'LL BE cuTTinG kiDs uP!!!1!" Nope! Gender affirming care for trans youth is all social, such as using a new name, different pronouns, and changing their style of dress. It is 100% reversible. If they REALLY cared about preventing "long term effects" to children's bodies, they'd be banning ALL elective surgeries for minors and wouldn't allow them to participate in body-changing sports such as gymnastics or ballet, or contact sports with high rates of injury such as football.
Joohn Choe: I find particularly resonant lately the idea that - and I'm not sure who said this originally: "You can never lick a boot well enough that they'll let you wear it."
Buckaroo Banzai shouting "Evil! Pure and simple from the 8th Dimension! Grab 'em!
From @cyberla@hachyderm.io: i would like to point out that Nasa spent a cumulative total of $57B over 65 years to visit every planet and many small bodies in the solar system, which is still less than the $60B Mark spent in just 5 years building the Metaverse.
A post from America First Patriot, pushing fascist ideology.