hey! a dear friend is going through a pretty rough situation. if the sun has smiled upon you and you find yourself in a position to help, anything and everything helps her to get out. truly, thank you x

Tiny@telephonesis.bsky.social · 2mo ago

Hi I need help getting out of a bad situation. Anything helps. cash.app/$telephonesis

bit of #disruptor #entrepreneur news today, was poking through the software behind my dad's pacemaker and discovered it's super inefficient! i dont know how to code so i did a step by step teardown and vibe rebuild using Claude. dad died but could the blockchain help? @why.bsky.team you know Claude?

there's a tiny little man underneath my skin. he travels along my bones like roads, tickling nerves and causing a ruckus, but that's out of my hands. my jurisdiction begins and ends at skin level, anything deeper isn't my business

much like the california gold rush of 1849, it is not the looksmaxxers that get rich; it's the one who sells the hammers... much to think about...

not now kitten, daddy has a few loose ends to tie; debts to settle, apologies to make, little goodbyes written and tucked into envelopes slid under doors. now kitten, just like daddy taught you, rest the barrel between his eyes - just like that, easy now. forgive me. ok kitten, daddy's ready.

queer eye season 11 tan: hm we gotta get rid of those teeth! jonathan: yep. those teeth, straight out. jeremiah: can't let you keep those teeth, kemosabe! antoni: we're going to pull those teeth, every single one. buldok the road toad: open road karamo: time to pull all those teeth out,

found God. they were in the back of the fridge, festering and forgotten behind an expired jar of horseradish cremé. they were laughing soundlessly, chest heaving with the effort of hysteric mirth. tears streamed from unblinking eyes, bulging with a mania unimaginable; infinite. closed the fridge.

on a woodland power hike when a tiny grey alien toddles out of the woods. it has two huge eyes full of gentle wonder. i scream and kick it through a tree; not because i am afraid but because i am commandant of the Kick and Scream Society and come hell or high water I Will Not Let The Lads Down

as one of the most respected talking heads in the media ecosphere i feel a responsibility to weigh in on discourse surrounding the strait of hormuz; nuke the moon. if we had any balls we'd nuke the moon and be done with it. do it you cowards, you absolute buried clams. nuke the moon. nukeitnukeitnuk

"war is won in the deli, long before it is fought in the mud. a nation built upon robust selections of cured meats, cheese varieties and antipasto enters conflict with both the moral and spiritual high ground. one fetta-stuffed kalamata olive can divert the trajectory of man and god alike" - sun tzu

my cult of personality toils in the desert, building a gleaming machine that will let me rip like a beyblade. maybe spinning real fast will fill whatever nameless wanting is missing; maybe if i spin fast enough, my brain will outrun its own noise. the horse we tested it on exploded. very promising.

being in your 30's is about getting your teeth kicked off by a 6'8 bouncer named Dane because you rolled too hard off that Mike's Hard Whole Milk and tried to wear the dj

"hold my beer" i say, apropos of nothing, to no-one. there is no beer. "hold my beer", coarser. my voice has the telltale rasp of fatigue, run into the ground and dragged across an overused larynx. "hold my beer". why is everything else so quiet. why is time too slow and too fast. "hold my beer"

my large adult son's affable yet oafish nature attracts nobility from across the realm. arriving in carriages laden with gifts, they leave beaming with joy; touched by his gentle nature and fun stoat facts. while they dither i abscond with their stable boys. i am koney 2012 of the yorkshire hills,

it's the men, general. their faith erodes as if abraded by a thousand poison tides, each bearing a more seditious whisper than the last; it's.. it's the apple, sir. you've been in your tent for days, boiling that same apple over and over. we hear you singing to it, calling it your 'Steaming Samuel',

Croag the Vehicular Menace: classical economic systems are insufficient, failing to meet modern requirements. we need something new, something revolutionary yoda ant: recurring character i am now. find sugar i must

if you enter the club without Clarity of Purpose, your bones should turn to sand

homunculus assistant has been experimenting with runes again. he's tattooed one of them on a toad, now every time it croaks one of the lab mice goes bald. the hair then grows out of its brow, this toad's eyebrows are making my boyfriend's wife jealous i tell you h'what. lost my train of thought. mmm

literacy is a degenerative disease. every idea you absorb through your eyes damages your crown chakra, quieting the Voice of God and its constant stream of simple life hacks

john wicko mode at the real estate agency except instead of a 9 mil it's a squirt gun of hog piss. judo slam my rent agent through his desk, two squirts at the next agent's eyes. third agent, unload a full clip of piss. fourth agent enters, throw the empty squirt gun at his head. take out a hammer,

in a groundbreaking, world-first surgery, the two wolves inside my large adult son have been successfully euthanized. he now exists within a never-before imagined frame of morality; operating under ethics free of our lupine duality. what will he do now? i hope he convinces his mother to take me back

the bird soundlessly alights, silhouetted against the pale morning sun, yet, casting no shadow. it wears the head of a snake, forked tongue flicking hypnotically as it proselytizes; 'love is the new flesh,' it crows, 'abando- i squeal and hit it with a shovel. freak ass bird snake shut the hell up

twelve eggs left in the Hardware Nest! what will hatch next? will it be a Makita DHP484Z 18V Mobile Brushless Heavy Duty Compact Hammer Driver Drill? maybe a can of solvent, or a bag of assorted screws? it's exciting not knowing. i only feel alive monitoring the eggs. the mystery keeps us all sane

nothing prepares you for the sound of your own bones snapping. i hear it when i close my ears at night; the mellifluous flute trill of a tibia, or the meaty french horn honk of a knuckle bone. if i were to fall from a great height my bones would shatter, birthing a harmonic symphony of splinters

sand is just glass yet to realize it's potential. you look at a pristine stretch of beach and see summers with Father, a tipple of granita in the moonlight, listing your first sandcastle on zillow; i see a technicolour cathedral of stained glass effigies, a million Fathers rendered kaleidoscopic

ant: do you ever wonder what lies beyond the colony? we serve a thankless queen, beholden to her whims and yet in return receive nothing but more toil. yoda ant: know i do not. little guy i found, under a leaf i did hmmmmm bovino: ᵤₚₚᵢₑₛ!

at least the samurai in my backyard is quiet. he respects the peace, even as he drives his sacred blade through my tomatoes. i watch helplessly as he perfectly bisects every lemon on my tree, slashing green beans and carrots with calm determination. i sit, watching, quietly hoping that i'm next,

look at us, brother; suckling from the teat of Big Tech. which industry is ready for plunder, can we be disruptors in the bog space? listen to yourself. we need to sit in the brackish waters and lay amongst the moss. the swamp will provide its own milk and nectar and hot goth gfs/bfs #creamernation

watching a lot of forged in fire recently. started seeing every chunk of metal as a potential blade, every chip and crack as flaws in the heating process, every passing human as a decorated ballistics dummy coyly waiting to be disemboweled with erotic precision by doug marcaida. i am Doug Marcaida