The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon.
No fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
Today on either side of watching the Red Sox play the Sultanes de Monterrey, I checked out an Oregon legislative hearing about amending and updating the old SB 110 allowing for financing a major league ballpark, and I just have a few things I’d like to communicate to all the players (no pun) involved about baseball in Portland.
In my post yesterday about the Severance finale, I made passing reference to a particular scene which I argued was reflective of the show’s political nature. Today, I wanted to say a little bit more about the conversation between Mark Scout and Mark S. that takes place entirely through alternating recordings on the same video camera.
It’s the day after the season two finale of Severance, which means I’ve accidentally run into at least one take that would set me off. In this case, it was a Bluesky post by Aaron Bady linking their piece for The American Prospect, which suggests that “the only good Severance was the original conceit” and that “Ben Stiller is a counterrevolutionary who has diluted the pure Marxist message at the behest of Apple and Capitalism”.
Someone over on Bluesky mentioned that they dislike “support needs” language—somewhat in vogue amongst the neurodivergent as an alternative to “functioning” labels, which are unpopular due to their divisiveness—because they view it as defining us as a burden.
Terrance: Shut your fucking face, you couch fucka! You're a club fucking, knole fucking divan fucka! You're a settee fucka, yes it's true! Nobody fucks sofas quite like you!
It took five days and some change of not posting to Bluesky without anyone even noticing I was gone—despite the fact that the last thing I’d posted back on March 8 was, “My life is a waste and should have been given to somebody else.”—(the exception being my mother, because moms) before I had to relent in order to subject Chuck Schumer to some abuse.
Never one to let an opportunity to be completely feckless pass by, Senator Schumer went before cameras today and pretended that Democrats were united in opposing the Republican continuing resolution to keep the government running—but it was a lie he’s hoping Democratic voters will be too angry at Republicans to spot.
If there’s one thing I can say about the last several weeks as I’ve been dealing first with a gout flare, the worst since the first years ago that woke me up in the middle of the night feeling like somehow I had broken my foot in my sleep, and then the ensuing aftermath where I might be dealing with a gout-prompted bunion that makes me want to just cut off the entire foot, it’s that I no longer think I have the bandwidth to deal with the combination of the continuing fascist administrative blitzkrieg and the feckless, outright absent, or just plain backward Democratic Party response.
Our primary heroes are Park, an activist and thief, and Bash, a hacker and former video game designer. They’ve somehow ended up with a spaceship that’s far too large for a crew of five, and are still trying to get the hang of it.
In the wake of my open letter to my new primary physician in part to explain the ways in which I need to process things and in part to express my concerns and fears regarding the instructions to try to push more exercise in the midst of the still-undiagnosed fatigue question, I note Jesse Meadows’ recent newsletter about fatigue.