Talk about your day thread

[wease]

My kids’ basketball team got our asses kicked today.

Yet the trans rights thread goes unscathed.

This is personal growth at its finest.

You think he would admit if his boys’ team was beaten by a bunch of girls that have transitioned to boys?

[knee tunes]

Today was a good day.

Got my cloud from 96% to 95%

Spoiler: show

[dad]

Cleaned house a bit. Went to my stepsons school of rock performance. Took one of the twins to a birthday party. Now I’m getting a pedicure while my wife gets a manicure.

[Bammer]

My kids’ basketball team got our asses kicked today.

Yet the trans rights thread goes unscathed.

This is personal growth at its finest.

You think he would admit if his boys’ team was beaten by a bunch of girls that have transitioned to boys?

The best ball handler we’ve faced all season was a girl.

[tommy]

Cleaned house a bit. Went to my stepsons school of rock performance. Took one of the twins to a birthday party. Now I’m getting a pedicure while my wife gets a manicure.

Do you have gross feet?

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[spike]

Made breakfast for the family, did some sanding of drywall repairs. Decided I needed more sanding oomph, so off to Home Depot and the girls tagged along to stop at a couple other stores. Mexican place for lunch. Finished sanding, did some painting, family bike ride, then a couple beers in the yard before things got too chilly. Lamb sandwiches for dinner, then hoping to watch some Pats doco eps later.

[Ms Harmless]

My kids’ basketball team got our asses kicked today.

Yet the trans rights thread goes unscathed.

This is personal growth at its finest.

[wease]

Cleaned house a bit. Went to my stepsons school of rock performance. Took one of the twins to a birthday party. Now I’m getting a pedicure while my wife gets a manicure.

Nice

[wease]

Skipped ballet this morning and just hung out, tidied up the house. Kid did some artwork. Took her to a bday party this afternoon and hung with other parents. Now crushing some great charcuterie and watching Octonauts.

[96583UP]

the bridge in the theme song is superior

[contamination]

Got up, read this from one of the biggest newspapers around here and couldn't stop thinking about it (chatGPT translation, it's got errors but I think you can get the big picture):

Spoiler: show

Jesus would invite Stubb and Marin to the bar for a chat

Politicians who groom and showcase themselves, having internalized ruthless discipline, are inadequate role models for people seeking meaning in their transient lives, writes Janne Saarikivi.

AT THIS TIME of year in the springs of the past, people died of hunger in Finland. The spawning of pike and the emergence of coltsfoot were eagerly awaited during the fasting period. Memories of abstinence include dry Januarys and crowded gyms. There, one can ponder if there is anything left of Christian culture.

In articles about Alexei Navalny, one thing is never mentioned, namely, that Navalny was a devout Christian. Journalists manage to overlook the obvious, even though Navalny seasoned his messages from prison with quotes from the Sermon on the Mount. Perhaps they don't see it because they are very middle class and secularized. But in Russia, the world is in a different position and craves justice.

Why choose death in a prison camp rather than the applause of opposition figures at seminars in Western countries? Because faith moves mountains and hearts. If Navalny's religiosity escapes our notice, how can we understand Africa or Arab countries? There, one does not need to seek exertion from the gym, and religion permeates everything.

WHEN politicians are asked about Christian values, the question should be what, in their opinion, moves mountains, but the matter is understood as a question of sexual identities. God is (false) dead, but without faith in something, one cannot even open a door. Therefore, we must ponder what our leaders believe in.

Our new president, Alexander Stubb, talks a lot about his worldview. In Karo Hämäläinen's biography Alex (2018), he talks about how he trains and eats. The future president said every night to his children: dream, work hard, succeed.

Another hugely popular politician, Sanna Marin, also talks about success. She encourages girls to pursue careers and "change the world". By her example, she shows how a woman from a humble background walks on red carpets.

Stubb and Marin showcase exercise and eating on social media, and Marin also showcases clothes. They are not stomach fillers, body warmers, and modes of transportation, but a thoroughly considered, posed lifestyle.

In Stubb's self-help mantra, sleep and success are linked. I wonder why I don't dream of success myself. I close my eyes: I see rotating, darkness-seeking light and the green front yard of my childhood home, where a hedgehog toddles. I never see myself in Hollywood or as the President of Finland.

I, too, support the rights of homosexuals and diverse family models. But when I look at our leaders, who are tormenting and posing themselves, I can share concerns about the disappearance of Christian values.

The center of Christianity would be grace and gratitude instead of self-discipline and success (I repeat: not marriage models!). The Palestinian carpenter sought friends among drunks, madmen, and prostitutes. He would have waved away EU studies, honorary doctorates in speeches at the stadium, triathlon records, and a healthy diet.

Four generations ago, people died of hunger here. Now it's warm and the belly is full, but we get anxious and urge each other. We still wonder what to eat, but not out of hunger, but out of abundance and discipline.

People should dream of their own future, but they cannot sleep. We are not comfortable, even though there is entertainment electronics, and we cannot find company, even though there are a million Tinder profiles. On TV, politicians talk about how badly things are going, sometimes about the economy, sometimes about security threats.

The carpenter also lived in economically bad times. The security situation was terrible. The rich oppressed the poor, the Jews Samaritans, and the Romans Jews. The same thing happens in Palestine today. But he said, let's not worry about food or clothing now, instead, let's look at the birds of the sky. They do not worry about the state of the government's finances, not even airspace violations.

OUR distress does not stem from a lack of opportunities for success, falling behind the growth rate of Sweden, or even that another neighboring country is a dictatorship. It is due to the lack of an accepting community and therefore the lack of humanity and grace. Posing and competition, or then degradation and hatred, fill the media and social media. They are two different sides of the same thing, comparison, and competition.

Where would grace come into the world? Children are scored at the maternity hospital. The family performance begins, where they are dressed in competition in ecological hygge mittens. School is scoring, even cavities are put into a database. And you have to get a good place to study to get exhausted in non-typical employment relationships.

No wonder people like Stubb end up as leaders. They measure every heartbeat and breath with the Oura ring. But ahead is a lonely old age in a service home. When a person's last expiration date has passed, successful relatives don't have time to visit, and then death comes.

Transient life is happening now. Something else must be sought than success and a career, meaning, significance, and connection to others. Here, politicians who groom and showcase themselves, having internalized ruthless discipline, are inadequate role models.

When was the last time they lost control and the miracle of life began? When they binged until they were sick, forgot and went to the bar to chat. The morning when plans were thrown away, and it was decided to have a lazy day.

WHEN the snow melts and Easter comes, churches do not preach that the inner hero has risen, and success and growth begin. Instead, it is said there that a human being is valuable even if lying in a gutter shooting oneself up.

The successful in Russia are not at the Harpin camp, but around Vladimir Putin, showing off million-euro watches to each other. Anyone who dreams of success looks at themselves through the eyes of others, forgets their own needs. Nor does he see others, for he is morbidly interested in what others think of him.

No wonder the word success is of the same origin as loss. And a fine career, which success leads us to, is also originally a narrow and deep pit where you can only go in one direction. There you get stuck.

However, I agree with Alexander Stubb that people should sleep well. For some reason or another, I sleep more and more all the time. I want to forget the world, competition, comparison, and tight, hurried leaders.

If I sleep for a long time, I wake up to find that I was not in a hurry. I see how beautiful the clay of a coffee cup is or what strange shapes there are in the stain on the kitchen table. I could stare at them all day. This is how sleep restores me to a merciful world, which is random and beautiful. And where success does not help or save.

Why should it? Things are better than a couple of generations ago or in Russia right now. Life is not a daily struggle for bread. I can curse the president in the country's largest newspaper, and I won't be sent to Siberia.

So I send greetings of grace to the new president. You said on election night that you intend to give your all to the country every day. But don't give in. The country will manage. Just do your job properly and relax a little now and then.

The author is a linguist and free thinker.

[96583UP]

praise christ

[96583UP]

finally a sunny and 60-degree day

like a whole new universe

if i am ever able to retire i will def be moving somewhere warm and sunny in the winter

fk this sht

[wease]

Gathered all the limbs and sticks from the yard that wintered had blanketed all over. That was a good 2-hour chore. Now my back’s killing me.

[contamination]

I'm actually pretty surprised how bad the translation is. I thought translating a text would be a piece of cake by now, but it seems the modern AI can't even do that properly.

[tragabigzanda]

There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

[Coach]

new car comes this Saturday!

[96583UP]

Gathered all the limbs and sticks from the yard that wintered had blanketed all over. That was a good 2-hour chore. Now my back’s killing me.

i also did 2 hours of tree pruning and stick breakdown / disposal

i am gonna pass out like a rock tonight

[96583UP]

new car comes this Saturday!

nice!

make sure to use the fart sound button when your dates get in the car