That’s your mobster. Don Homaridao to be exact.

Janus the Two-Faced tries to find a bridge between British and American English.

Wolf knew this trick wouldn’t work forever, yet he was surprised.

Star fleet doesn’t allow starting an open combat, but Worf finds his way.

Worf: I can’t undo years of injustice on Palestinia-3. These wounds left by zionism and islamism need generations to heal.

Worf: As an acting officer, I’m limited in what I can do, and that lack of power is painful to a klingon, yet…

Worf: I feel like teleporting Bibi to Defiant and making him stay there due to a bureaucratic hell for a year or two can make a difference.

Love me some shitty star trek art

Nothing.

Not in a depressing way, I just adore the blank state when I don’t have any responsibilities and worries to occupy my mind and I can build something from the ground. A sense of creative freedom not pre-shaped by external factors. That’s very inspiring.

This clown passed too much time before replying.

Haven’t played this one yet.

One pipe-bomboile, table 6. Sorry for it taking too long. We have a lot of rich people to serve today.

why

To fund his another adventure, this irish sailor promoted a fresh novelty: drinking shots made from frozen banana cuts. That’s not like his idea failed per se, even though he didn’t think of another way to produce them than spooning out the meat of banana and eating it himself before taking them to the freezer. But his generous soul made him give them off for free to everyone who walked by. He’s not sad that it wasn’t a working business model, but kinda afraid what many pounds of banana and booze would lead to the next time he wakes up.

I’m sorry man. You’re the best. Don’t give up.

Cano being overwhelmed by billions of realities where they are happy even if they don’t notice that.

Being happy for a depressed person is hard, and that realization made me love, kiss, slopy-style, the name IDLES gave to their most popular album: Joy as an act of Resistance. Idk your taste, but maybe these UK punks can make you feel seen at least.

Blimp, poo doo pi doomp boop.

That’s a tough cookie.

Without an unnecessary dive into the history of studying living bodies’ interconnectiveness and telepathic conversations that could take us into some dark places, I want to tell you about a little pet shop right around the corner. Organized like a small and comfy co-op, they are giving off pet mice to everyone interested. They do so for free, but before they give it to you, they make you know the rules, and they are as follows:

1. Everyone can adopt their own Lemmy and pet someone’s else.
2. Someone, even a stranger, can feed them and make them thrive, and that’s the only right way to control them.
3. No one can stop them from eventually congregating, staying on their two feet and sharing thought in someone’s backyard.

(The untold forth rule is killing one exact mouse on sight, but that’s probably obvious.)

The sacrifice though is time. Just like their meowing arch enemies, they want your attention and care on their own terms, terms sometimes defined by other mice in their hivemind. That may be confusing at first, but this pet demigod would show you the way how to nail it.

I thought you were the God of Lemmy.

I liked your duck.

Do slaves really want to be free or their vision is distorted to the point their dream is to be a slaver?