I am in no way techy, but from what I gather because the posts are federated they are also stored on the other instances as well, so posts are still visible. In the post announcing the shuttering of .ee they specifically mentioned adding a note on your profile to link to your new profile, so people can find your new profile after that shut down. That implies to me that everything not intentionally scrubbed remains open/visible long after the shut down of the original source.

Again, though, not techy, so I may be vocalizing from my posterior

Which one?

In the no exceptions states, does that mean children aren’t allowed to partake in the eucharist in churches that use real wine?

I’m not sure how accurate the rest of these are, but my county is listed way lower than actual numbers, so I googled it, and the number on this image matches the number the government gives, but not reality. I’m assuming there’s a large portion of Hispanic folk in this area that didn’t do the census because reasons. But yeah, the area of the county I’m in is ~80% Hispanic, and the county itself is probably at least 50% or more. the number given in the census is 17%

I think it’s just poorly written pseudo-legalese, and it’s intended to mean that he will be unable to enjoy life in the future because of the psychological damage that poor is doing to him (unrealistic expectations and mental harm, et cetera).

While porn addiction and unrealistic ideas of beauty and sex are genuinely real things that happen, the way to prevent that is with frank, open discussions about sex and pornography, not trying to prevent your 14 year old from masturbating. I was a 14 year old boy at one point, and lemme tell you, nothing could stop me from masturbating. Nothing. It’s just not going to happen. Kids will find ways to find porn, and if somehow we completely do away with it entirely (again, won’t happen), they’ll find new ways, and they’ll read and write erotica or get into hentai or whatever. This woman is insane, Kansas is insane, and so are all the other states imposing this bullshit

Fucking weird, I was just telling my brother about this tonight. We never talk comic books.

Gonna ruin me, but seconding. Brick in the window video?

Yeah, it makes for a great story, but in the moment it was fucking terrifying. Especially considering that’s not the sort of environment I’ve ever been comfortable in. I don’t do drugs or party like that

Copy paste from another time I told the story: Placeholder comment because I need to go back to sleep. Someone remind me and I’ll tell y’all about rescuing my brother from a maybe kidnapping in Mexico.

Okay, so, me and my brother visited Mexico. It was a fairly small town, not a major place like Cancun. Had an amazing time. Ended up meeting these two bartenders that we became friends with. Their boss, who legit made everyone he met call him El Jefe, would come by and steal their tips and get drunk. We were there for a week. On the last night, I’m on the other side of the town (10 minute walk away) trying to seal the deal with this dude I’d met, and my brother was at the little bar hanging with our bartender friends. I get a call from him, panicked, as he whisper yells that El Jefe asked him to come with him to another bar he owns. He’s in the car, El Jefe is flying down the street, he’s doing cocaine off the dash. Please come get him at this other bar. He sends me one of those location pins that update in real time.

I tell dude that I’ll help him finish later, and take off to rescue my brother. He’s only like 5 minutes away, and has stopped moving. I go into the club, and start looking for him, but he’s not there. I’m asking folks if they’ve seen him, and trying to get closer to his pin. Finally, I find his phone, there’s some random ass dude who has it, and when I tell him I’m gonna need that phone, he tries to act like it’s his. I explain to him it’s my brother’s. He acts like he’s gonna swing at me, so I drop El Jefe’s name. That, combined with the fact that he’s 5’nothing and I’m 6’3 and near 300 pounds convinced him of the error of his ways. He gave me the phone, and I moved on in my search. I talked to the bartender, who explained that El Jefe had been there a few minutes ago, and had left some coke for me because my brother told him I was meeting them there (neither I nor my brother do coke). I asked could he tell me where they were headed. He gave me an address about a mile away. I took off.

I arrive at the house, by this point it is nearly 2 in the morning. It looks like just a house, but the lights are on so I knock on the door. I am greeted by a woman with the largest breasts I have ever seen in real life. They’re enormous. And she’s topless. Now, I don’t speak Spanish. I know enough to ask where the bathrooms are, and (I smokes at the time) where I could smoke at. Other than that, it was Google translate and gesturing for me.

However, I did not need Spanish to understand that this woman was a prostitute, and was very keen on the young American in front of her (or, at least his wallet). I tried to explain I’m trying to find my brother, but she wasn’t having it. Grabbing at my crotch, trying to pull me into one of the bedrooms off the (very nicely decorated for a brothel) living room. As my actions at this moment were less Liam Neeson and more Jerry Stiller, I decided to just come clean with her with one of the only Spanish words I knew “yo soy Mariposa!”

Now, I know that’s a slur, and I’m sorry if it upsets anyone. But at the time, it was the only thing I could think of. An hour before hand, the phrase had been… Relevant.

It was like a magic spell. Her entire attitude changed, and she was finally able to listen to my words. Once we cobbled together enough Spanglish to understand each other, I gave her the coke from the club as a thanks, and headed off to find my brother where she told me El Jefe had taken him next.

I arrive back at the night club I’d gotten the coke from, and I see El Jefe’s car this time. It’s parked in an alley behind the club, against an outdoor stair case. I go up the stairs and open the door to a private little fucking rave on the top floor of the club. They’ve got their own bar up here, and if I remember correctly, you can’t get from one floor to the other from within the club.

I see them at last! My brother looks mortified, trying to get to the entrance, and keeps getting pulled back by El jefe, and El jefe dancing with fucking scar face levels of coke on his face. It’s insane. I go up to them, and El jefe is all excited to see me, asks if I want some more coke, do I wanna party, he has a pretty boy all picked out for me if I want.

I tell him no thanks, we’ve gotta go. He gets pissy and says I’m being rude, stay and party. I tell him we’re leaving, and before I can react, he swings at me in all hiscoke fueled glory, completely missing me by a country mile. I stand up and tower over this man and explain we have a plane to catch in the morning. He finally let us go, and we head out.

Our plane the next day was delayed, so we ended up spending two more days there. In that time, El Jefe apologized for swinging at me, and gave us a tour of some of the apartments he rents.

We still keep in touch on Whatsapp, and he invites us to his enormous birthday party every year. He also says he’ll rent me an apartment there if I want to do private security for him. He talks to my brother more than me, though. He really liked him, and he calls me El Gigante. He really, really wants us both to come work for him. From what I gather, he basically runs the entire town we were in.

That whole trip was pretty incredible, tbh. My brother actually got kidnapped briefly on our last night there

When we went to Cancun (Isla Mujeres, actually) all the food was Americanized or just seafood. Our bartender at this little beach hut bar thingy became a good friend (still in touch, nearly 10 years later) and he heard my brother and I complaining that all the food was super Americanized.

He told us to rent a car and he would take us to the most authentic Mexican food in the world… So we rented a car, and dude drove us over an hour away to his abuelas, and she cooked us food, and it was the best food I had ever had. Incredible.

In my experience, yes. HOWEVER, I’m one of those “welcome to the laundry gauntlet” type people. I do not care for my clothes the way I should. Everything just get washed with little regard, unless it’s something hand made crochet or knit. But I’ve never noticed any bleaching or white spots.

The homemade laundry detergent is so fucking good, though. No joke. My clothes have never felt cleaner. But can someone explain, if washing soda is just baked baking soda, why can’t you just use the baking soda directly? If it’s just to remove the moisture as they say in the pic, why bother doing it, since you’re dumping it into water?

Also, get yourself a downy ball if your washing doesn’t have the fabric softner section, and use vinegar. I love the way our laundry feels once we switched to vinegar.

What? I had no idea! I manually migrated my subscriptions over when I switched!

It was hard for me, so I vote everyone must manually do it, for character building or some such bullshit.

Does it have even fewer words?

Either way, I excitedly anticipate almost understanding the posts! Lol

They look like they’ve captured a fucking superhero or some shit. Fucking cowards

People are gonna people, let 'em people . Frankly, most of the folks angry at religions/the religious have pretty solid reasons to be. Not my place to be rankled by it

I’m not on tiktok, but I’ll admit to using YouTube as a search engine a lot. Also googling something and immediately hitting the video tab before reading any of the results.

I’m not, gave my discman to my younger brother brother because it skipped like a mother if you walked with it in your pocket, and I mainly listened to books on tape on my actual walkman well up until mp3 players were viable

My mom bought a bunch of rechargable double and triple as and a charger, and we used them my entire childhood. My friends were always in awe whenever my gameboy died and I didn’t have to search through a kitchen drawer (or the freezer) for half dead batteries.