Braden Serkas

@portmanteauface.bsky.social

Mostly I write things down, but sometimes I wrong things up. I’m working on it. Clickbait ➡️ https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:57tds76f6hmild5kw32pppdd/feed/aaacbm5qg2h7a

I once drove straight from the Pacific in Seattle to the Atlantic in Boston, every inch of interstate 90, in 53 hours non-stop save for refueling and washrooms, so when a Brit complains about a cross-country trip that takes as long as my old commute to work I basically want to offer them a pacifier

You see, kids, back when fucks were given, their value was appreciated at a premium, but they’ve been devalued so much on an international scale over the last few decades that no one gives them any more. It’s called Macrofuckenomics.

If you show up to Bluesky without following anyone, you'll be treated to a series of posts about art, music, and dogs. If you show up to X without following anyone, you'll be bombarded with right-wing conspiracies and white supremacist slop. It's weird which one is seen as a "political bubble"

By all means, address problems in agriculture and oversight and all that, but don't expect it to get any MAHA/anti-vaxxers on your side. Because they will just move the goalposts. That's what conspiracy theorists do. Railing against the conspiracy is what matters, its components are incidental.

Person in my doorway: Hey! Me: *not looking up* I finished 10 minutes ago and emailed it to you Person: Thanks! Um. Just one more thing-- Me: *looks up slowly, sky begins to darken outside, lightning strikes in the distance*

Don't say "Easy! Just convert it to another format" to me, buddy. You don't know me. You don't know the deepest wounds in my soul or the terrifying files I've endured or the easy things I've seen and screwed up.

Motherfuckers be like, "they are going to track me through vaccines," and then support their towns having flock cameras. I need you to understand this; if you're pro flock cameras, I hate you and don't want you to read my posts.

Of all of the profound disappointments that I have faced in my life, be they personal or professional, none is more firmly fixed in my mind, nor more likely to have caused my deeply-rooted trust issues, than the discovery at age four that Play-Doh doesn't taste the way it smells.

I used to have a car with a separate washer fluid reservoir for the rear wiper and in the summers I would fill it with whole milk and turn the nozzle 180 degrees so I could hose down tailgaters with rancid dairy like some kind of Wisconsin James Bond