Warren Terra

@warrenterra.bsky.social

Warren Terra is a pseudonym. @warren__terra on Twitter (inactive) @warren__terra at mastodon.online Apparently bluesky doesn't like underscores?

Man goes to see the Cyclops. Says he's depressed. He wants to get back to his wife and home, but he keeps running into fatal predicaments along the way. Cyclops says, "Prognosis is simple. Nobody can help you." Man starts crying. Says, "But Cyclops, I *am* Nobody"

I've just gotten 3 of a new sort of spam bot: 1) account I've never seen before gives a like to two recent replies I did, neither one interesting, in completely unrelated threads 2) the account follows me 3) they have 15-30 followers, follow 100s or 1000s, few posts, recently quote-posted an AI ad

My first wife and I met Sam Neill backstage at a comic-con about 9 years ago and he was superb. He found out I was a comedian and after about three hours of signing his name, he walked backstage and said to me just as I was going out to do my show, “I’ve warmed ‘em up for you.” What a legend.

sometimes i’m just out & about enjoying myself & i think, this is what they’re trying to take from us. this beautiful moment, having a traditional ethiopian coffee service at a tiny restaurant in a strip mall in a little appalachian town, this is what those reactionary freaks want to take from us!!

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It’s a bit long, but I think it’s worth quoting his summary of a typical day in a military prison in full. (If you can’t zoom in enough, I think the salient points are the 11am “large whisky and ginger ale” and the “particularly succulent duck in aspic”. This, friends, is democracy manifest)

I would have a stroll in the moat after breakfast. Then at eleven, Guardsman McKie would arrive from the officers' mess with a large whisky and ginger ale. He would find me spick and span, for, though I have a great regard for the Guards, they have not the gift to look after a cavalry officer's equipment. The morning would pass pleasantly. By noon visitors would begin to arrive. One or two always stayed to lunch. They usually brought something. I remember a particularly succulent duck in aspic gave me indigestion – and a fine box of cigars bought by my family doctor. Teatime was elastic and informal. Visitors dropped in, usually bringing bottles. I don't recall that any of them contained tea. Dinner, on the other hand, was formal. I dined sharp at eight and entertained only invited guests. After a few days of settling in, I was surprised to find that being a prisoner in the Tower of London had its points. If there hadn't been a war on I might have tried to get a life sentence.

Generally pretty mad about the articles that are like “end of war resets the status quo,” since “eliminating the core principle of modern maritime trade” and “giving Iran a formally acknowledged chokehold over the world economy and all the other Gulf states” is, uh, pretty far from the status quo