“So, what, Max, are you saying time travel is impossible?” Delwyn’s small eyes blinked dimly. Maxim was so accustomed to seeing the ugly, potato-shaped visage of his cellmate that he was no longer bothered by it.
“No, that is not what I’m saying,” Maxim said. Despite his stark white hair and emaciated figure, Maxim could easily have been mistaken for a much younger man. He showed no signs of arthritis, osteoporosis, or any other skeletal ailments common with age. But most strikingly, his complexion was that of youth, defiant of his years. Bright blue eyes stared intently at the bars of the cell, waiting.
“Then what?” Delwyn asked, confusion in his tone.
“I said that you can’t go back in time to change events and succeed.”
“I don’t understand.”
Leaning closer to the bars, Maxim peered both ways down the hall. Sitting on his cot, he sighed. “Lets say you wanted to stop somebody from getting badly hurt in a car accident. You jump back in time and fix the brakes on their car before they leave that day. Then what?”
“Everything’s good,” Delwyn said.
“No,” Maxim said. “You now have no reason to have ever gone back in time to fix those brakes because the accident didn’t happen. So now you never go back, but then the accident did happen, and you go back.”
Delwyn stared blankly.
“It’s a paradox, and so something will go wrong to make sure you don’t achieve the goal and lose the original motivation for suddenly appearing in an earlier spot in the time stream. It’s actually quite safe to become a tourist in time, because you will not be able to make a change significant enough to prevent yourself from being there. Well, I shouldn’t say safe. You could still get yourself killed, since that is something time doesn’t give a damn about. So long as the causal relationships are maintained.”
“So…”
“So what you really need to do is to set up a stable time loop. Make sure that you still have a means and a reason that will work both with and without the change being made.”
“How do you do that?”
“That, Del, is the real question. I’ve been mulling it over for decades and keep finding flaws in each of my ideas. Maybe I’m too smart for my own good.”
“Don’t say that! You’ll figure it out.”
“I wish I had your confidence in me.”
The sound of footsteps in the hall got their attention. The sheriff’s deputy standing there motioned for Delwyn to back away. The large man did so. He turned his attention to the older prisoner. “Maxim Mason, it’s release day.”
“I’ve been waiting weeks to hear those words.”
The deputy tilted the radio handset on his shoulder and spoke into it. “Open number five.” The iron bars rattled open, and Maxim stepped into the hallway. “Close number five.”
Maxim turned around as the bars rattled shut. “Hang in there Del, it’s only three more weeks.”
“See ya.”
Maxim gave a curt nod, but decided against voicing the hope that he didn’t have to see his cellmate again. He drew in a deep breath, and turned towards the deputy. “Lead on.” The two walked to the security checkpoint. Once checked through, Maxim was led to the property clerk. He examined the clothes and the contents of the manila envelope, and frowned. “Where are my keys and phone?”
The property clerk looked at his monitors. “There were neither keys nor phone on the initial inventory.”
Maxim frowned. “I always have them on me.”
“You didn’t when you became one of our guests. Sign here.”
Maxim signed, then stepped into the bathroom to change from his jail attire to the clothes he’d been brought in wearing. A few more forms and a half hour later, he walked out the front door of the jail. A familiar, battered, green car idled by the side of the road. His face furrowing, Maxim descended the stairs and climbed in.
“You son of a bitch,” Maxim said.
“Watch how you talk about our mother.”
“Just drive.”
* * *
Maxim remembered the torrential rain of that night. The rain sheeted off his umbrella as the boom faded into the distant thunder. The sudden displacement of air was not subtle, but no one would notice it in that weather. The warm glow of the lobby lighting spilled through the doorway when a small cluster of people emerged, umbrellas first, into the storm. Whether they saw a young man with white hair or an old man with oddly youthful skin, Maxim didn’t care, so long as they didn’t care. He stepped into the lobby and shook the rain from his umbrella. There were a couple of customers at the coffee shop and the guards at the security desk, but no great bustle of activity. The security guards looked up at Maxim’s approach, but had no reaction. Fishing out his identification, Maxim signed in as if everything were ordinary.
“Who are you here to see, Mister Mason?”
“Christoff Jorgensen.” The answer didn’t raise an eyebrow, and he passed through the scanners, raising no alarms. With the elevators running up the outside of Sterling Towers, Maxim had a stellar view of the lightning flashes backlighting the buildings of New Port Arthur. The buildings’ own lights illuminated the rain, creating a dance of shimmering halos throughout the vista that faded into the night before returning anew as the downpour waxed and waned in different neighborhoods. With a ding, the elevator doors opened onto a drab hallway. Strolling casually down the hall, Maxim found the men’s bathroom and stepped inside. Making sure he was alone, he waited.
With a pop of displaced air, the case appeared. A black, hard-sided briefcase, the container itself was completely ordinary.
“Good, my math was correct.”
Opening the case, Maxim looked over the devices inside. The largest was slightly smaller than a backpack and had straps like one. It had a slim rectangular shape made of burnished aluminum. On the back was a raised circle around a raised protrusion shaped like the speaking horn on an early telephone. Maxim slung the device on his back and made sure the controls clipped to the straps were at the right spot to be easily operated. The items remaining in the case were a set of lockpicks and a six-inch cylinder of black plastic. Maxim slipped both of these in his pockets, closed the empty case and faced the door. Stepping out into the hall, he began a mental countdown.
A flat, mechanical voice spoke. “Mister Mason, you know that smuggling in unapproved-”
“It’s all there in the name, Shiva, unapproved, and smuggling. I thought a computer would at least be able to read dictionaries.”
“Security has been alerted to your actions.”
“I expected no less.” Finding the door he wanted, Maxim tested the handle optimistically. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. “Time is of the essence,” Maxim whispered to himself, foregoing the picks and extracting the cylinder from his pocket. The laser had only enough charge to punch through one lock, but it was all Maxim needed it for. Tossing aside the expended device, Maxim tugged the door open. The deadbolt thumped to the floor. The room beyond was a windowless lab Maxim knew far too well. Every surface was cluttered with materials, drawing a frown from his face. “You never could put your stuff away when I worked here, it’s only gotten worse since,” Maxim said.
“Doctor Whalen is not here,” Shiva said.
“Of course not. He might try something stupid if he were.” Maxim had to pull out a chair to find a clear space to open his case. Picking through the clutter, he found the components he needed and moved them to the case. He heard the sound of boots in the hall as he snapped the clasps closed. Activating the controls on his shoulder strap, Maxim listened to the rising hum. Turning to face the door, he opened his umbrella and held it over his head. As the security response team burst through the door, Maxim disappeared in a thunderclap of air collapsing into the space he had previously occupied.
The SRT swept the room, wary of a possible invisibility device.
“Shiva, report,” the lead SRT barked.
“Commander Jorgensen, the suspect appears to possess a form of teleportation that is able to bypass our existing anti-teleport measures. Unable to identify the materials taken due to Doctor Whalen’s poor inventory discipline. However, from observed characteristics, they appear to have been constructed in this lab rather than commercially acquired.”
Jorgensen sighed. “Contact Whalen and have him come figure out what’s missing. Also, save every scrap of information you’ve got on this incident.”
“Affirmative.”
* * *
Maxim had never been the best at picking locks, and the task was only made more difficult with an umbrella held in the crook of his neck. The rain continued to hammer down on the fabric as he fiddled with the tumblers. Then the lock gave, and he twisted it open. Slipping the end of the hard case in the door to keep it from closing again, Maxim turned back towards where the battered green car sat. Working the stiffness from his muscles, he walked over to the car and extracted the first of the aluminum-sided cases from the trunk. The road through the park was closed, so the odds were against someone stumbling onto him, especially with the downpour.
Opening the door with his foot, Maxim dragged the new case inside, but left the small one as a doorstop. The shack was a museum, albeit a very small one. Along the walls, the curators had crammed a number of small exhibits. Most were murals with stands of text and a button to hear the same text as a recorded message. Maxim frowned at the one diorama on the wall. The murals were older and celebrated sidekicks through the years. The diorama instead appeared to be celebrating a couple of criminals who’d gotten themselves killed. “You don’t belong here,” Maxim said. Turning his attention back to the middle of the room, he said, “And neither do you.”
In the middle of the room stood a solitary figure. Clad in a brightly colored outfit of blue and yellow, he had a yellow cape and red boots. The cape was wrapped around much of his figure. He appeared to be about twelve, but his blue mask covered most of his face. Neat red hair capped off his head. Looking at the sign in front of the figure, Maxim reached out and pushed the button to play the recording.
“The First Sidekick. Albion Dark was the first sidekick registered with the Bureau of Hero Affairs after the establishment of the agency. Despite this distinction, he was never that famous among the public at large. He mostly fought street criminals. This immobile figure was created in one of his few encounters with a supervillain. The offender has never been identified. When this figure could not be moved from the spot where it happened, the Sidekick museum was built around it.”
“The first BHA-Registered sidekick,” Maxim muttered, “Twenty years too late to be the first sidekick. But this isn’t the Community Fund museum.”
Maxim suppressed a chuckle. The whole shack could fit into a single room in the sidekick wing of the Community Fund’s hero museum. As the recording had played, he’d opened the case and begun setting up pylons around the figure of Albion Dark. He had to go back out to the car for the other case of pylons to finish the ring. With the pieces roughly in place, he affixed a ring near the floor, fine-tuning the position of the pylons so that everything snapped into place. The pylons were each a hollow framework of pipes propping up a teal-colored emitter frame with three off-yellow emitters embedded inside. One had a larger control module on the outside of the ring. Stringing cables between the emitter casings, he hooked them into a chain ending at the control module.
Grabbing the small case from the doorway, Maxim set it atop the diorama case and extracted the contents. Opening the control module, he began wiring the new components into the device. Looking at them balanced precariously on top, he applied duct tape to keep them from falling. The hard part proved to be finding a wall outlet to plug the cord into. The curators didn’t want the public leeching off of them. Maxim had to take a wall panel off and unplug the diorama. Adjusting the controls, he powered up the contraption. The emitters glowed dimly. Calibrating the new components, Maxim made sure all of the parameters were correct.
Even with everything matching the calculations he’d done, Maxim hesitated. Lifting the molly guard, he flipped the main power from ‘Prime’ to ‘On’. The glow in the emitters brightened. Setting the delay to zero, he pushed the squared red main activation button. A flash lit up the small room.
“…Right there!” Albion Dark said, finishing a sentence he’d started decades before. The youth looked around in confusion. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the exact same spot,” Maxim said.
The sidekick gave him a skeptical look.
“You were shot with a chronal cannon and were frozen in place for… quite some time. It is now the twenty-first century.”
Eyes wide, the youth leapt the cable ring and pulled open the door. The downpour made him hesitate, giving Maxim the time to grab his arm.
“Calm down, you’re not stuck here. Everything is set up to send you back to your own time.”
“So quickly?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to get the time machine set up.” Maxim motioned towards the device, which still glowed merrily.
Looking back at the lights of the city through the rain, the youth visibly contemplated the situation.
“Can’t I at least see some more of the future?”
“No,” Maxim said.
“Why not?”
“Because taking knowledge from now back to the nineteen fifties will change the course of events. I can’t let you do that.”
The sidekick looked disappointed.
“Look,” Maxim said, “You’re needed back in your own time. You do a lot of good. And I wouldn’t even be here if you don’t go back.”
The gears turning in the youth’s head clicked. He took a closer look at the old man’s face.
“Are we related?” Albion Dark asked.
“Yes,” Maxim said. It was clear the sidekick was holding back a deluge of questions that would rival the rains outside. “Please. Step back in the time machine, so I can send you home.”
With one last glance at the city, the sidekick released his grip on the door and walked sullenly back to the spot he’d stood for decades. There were marks where his shoes had been, slight depressions from where the concrete had been poured ever so slightly higher than the level of his soles. Maxim recalibrated the machine, disconnecting the new components as he did so.
“Why is that just taped on?” Albion Dark asked.
“It was primarily a time machine, and needed additional components to undo the effects of the chronal cannon.” Maxim caught himself before he started going into detail as to how it worked, closing his mouth, setting his jaw, and dialing in the correct settings for the trip. Moving around the ring, he swapped out charge modules for new canisters from the aluminum cases. Each canister was half as long as his forearm, and four inches across. Each emitter casing held two.
“What are you doing?” Albion Dark asked.
“It takes a lot of power to run this thing, and- And I shouldn’t go into detail.” Once back to the control point, Maxim checked the gauges. “This will be loud, but painless.” He pushed the button before he could hesitate. With a flash and a crash, Albion Dark was gone.
“Bye, Max. See you in sixty-five years.”
* * *
The sunlight landing on Maxim’s arm was making it uncomfortably warm. Shifting it below the edge of the car window made the rest of his posture shift in an uncomfortable manner. Readjusting his entire body, Maxim grew irritated. “Did I get the time wrong?” He checked his phone and frowned. “Did I get the day wrong?” His questions were answered when the door to the building opened and disgorged his passenger. The man climbed into the car and pulled on his seatbelt.
“You son of a bitch,” he said.
“Watch how you talk about our mother,” Maxim said.
“Just drive.”
Maxim put the car in gear, signaled his intention to merge into traffic, and pulled away from the curb.
“You set me up.”
“Jails are full of people who are there for things they themselves did,” Maxim said.
“Usually it’s for things that happened before they’re incarcerated,” the younger Maxim said.
“Well, there’s those who were there for things like failure to appear-”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Of course I do, I was the one saying it not that long ago.”
“I still haven’t figured out how you did it,” the younger Maxim said.
“Don’t worry, you’re just as smart as I am.”
“Why are you here now?”
“Because if I picked up my life at a time when I was supposed to be in jail, I might get arrested for escaping.”
“You’re not expecting to become my roommate. You know I wouldn’t put up with another me that long.” He paused. “You’re expecting me to leave soon.”
“Well, you’ve already done the time, you might as well do the crime,” the older Maxim said.
“But I can’t figure out how you did it.”
“You said that already.”
“Security response time in Sterling Towers is no more than two to five minutes. I built the anti-teleportation measures protecting those buildings, so I get that the new design can bypass them. But it takes half a day to recharge, and I didn’t make the power pack swappable.”
“A bit of an oversight, that,” the older Maxim agreed.
“Can’t make a second one. The materials don’t exist unless I cannibalize parts from…: he trailed off as an epiphany flared in his brain, “-The time machine.” He glanced to see if there was a reaction from the older version of himself, but there was none. “You didn’t, because you didn’t have to. You used the time machine as a teleporter, sending what you needed to a safe spot in the building so that by the time Shiva knew something was up, you were already at the lab.”
The older Maxim said nothing, focusing his attention on the familiar side streets of the suburb.
“And of course, there’s no time crunch when you can adjust your own arrival time to suit.”
The younger Maxim was confused by the frown on his counterpart’s face.
“What is it?”
“The lawn is so badly overgrown,” he said, turning into the driveway.
“I’ve been in jail!”
“There’s a notice on the door, probably warning us to cut it.”
“Are you even listening?”
“Yes, you’ve been in jail, you want to use the time machine as a teleporter. I’ve heard every word you’ve said.”
“So why are you ignoring me?”
“Because confirmation from me would be bootstrapping. I’ve come too far to create a paradox now.”
“You know what I think about that.”
“You also know that I’m not sold on a stable time loop being temporal scar tissue over a paradox.”
“Was I always an asshole?”
“Yes… No. Only once you got old.”
The younger Maxim sighed. “I’ve got a lot of math to do to pull this off.”
“Good luck.”
“What are you going to be doing?”
“I think I’ll mow the lawn,” Maxim said, shutting off the car. The younger Maxim opened the garage door, and the older went inside to where the lawn tractor sat. Checking on the engine, he kept one eye on his younger self until he was again alone.
Starting the engine, Maxim let out a long, depressive sigh.
“Here’s to uncertainty, and the unknown,” he said. Normally, Maxim found mowing relaxing, but fighting with the wild lawn was far from it. He ended up cranking the mower deck up to its highest setting and resigning himself to two passes to make things right. “Of course, sending myself to jail means I caused this problem in the first place…”
Maxim closed his eyes and silently swore.
His contemplation of the past had dredged up another memory. A very old memory. There was one thing left he had to do to close the loop.
He had to go back in time and shoot Albion Dark with a chronal cannon.
UCS Thank you! that was a lesson on dialogue I desperately needed, time travel is fun eh?
/Good Work!
Thanks.
I hope I got all the logic issues ironed out plotside too.
I find that Chaos gives enough leeway that some changes have no real effect on the overall timeline, so I travel back and forth often, or would if my Heisenburgh Compensator would show up,
Deliveries never show up on time.
Not if you have Uighur Prime!
/coming soon
OTOH, I see you follow the elementals well, We don’t age, and we are aware of when we are.
I am a traveler of both time and space
To be where I have been
Sit with elders of the gentle race
This world has seldom seen
Talk of days for which they sit and wait
All will be revealed
https://youtu.be/sfR_HWMzgyc
We haven’t found the Elders, yet, but some search for them, oh yes
I liked this UCS. My mind is all over the place so I’m afraid I haven’t really focused on it right now.
It’s all right if you can’t focus. So long as you’re entertained.
It’s quite entertaining, time travel stories can get confusing for obvious reasons,
of order. Everything is out
Relatavistic engines are your friend,
Wouldn’t the trick be to go back in time to tell the version of yourself in that time to go fix the brakes on the car? Then the brakes get fixed, but only because you went back in time to tell yourself to do it. So you still have to go back in time.
Then the knowledge that the brakes need to be fixed spontaneously generates. It’s a bootstrap paradox, because there’s nothing that causes you to actually learn the information.
I touch back on Temporal golf in the next few tales, but it’s a paradox in itself,
Well, you’re learning the information from future-you, who learned it in the past from future-him, and so on. Why wouldn’t the universe treat it as if you were learning information from your father, who learned from his father, etc.?
Nope. There’s still no point for the origination.
Why believe some Rando who says he’s your Future you and listen to him?
I would expect rando-future-me would probably be knowledgeable about things only I would know. For example, he’d probably know all the passwords to my devices, as well as where I bury the bodies.
That all depends on how you write the story, then, Fun!
That’s what multiple timelines are for, you don’t change the timeline where the dude dies you create a new one where he lives. It’s a dodge for the paradox problem but it opens up other philosophical/ethical questions.
I don’t do multiple timelines.
Too messy.
I’ll write something up that maybe gives another POV,
50/50, if he thinks you are nut job and he doesnt fix the brakes, your GG Gma is never born, but you end up in an insane asylum and the Time traveler, not being born, can’t fix it.
Time travel looks like a hell of a lot of work.
Lackadasaical, if you’re out there, to answer your question from the last post, Sununu is a Republican. Out for himself and his family, as typical for politicians. I think he thinks vetoing certain redistricting plans would appeal to independent voters, whom he needs to vote for him when he runs for Senate in 2022.
“Who’s in authority Here!!!”
/Kyle Reese
I don’t want to alarm anyone, but my Uber app just told me that “Jesus is arriving in 23 minutes”
Seriously.
ahhh
I’m glad he was able to find gainful employment.
Make sure and tip him well, for Christ’s sake.
?
Boom! goes the dynamite.
He did tell us that it was his Third Day.
??
As an Uber driver, he clarified.
Haha. If I were him I’d tell everyone it was my 3rd day just to see if he got any reactions.
Repent!!!
Whatever you do, don’t spoil the future for him, that would create a bootstrap paradox and change civilization.
Jesus take the wheel!
Everybody look busy!
Make him your co-pilot
Related
From the ded thread, our new Masters! Cylons!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tF4DML7FIWk
Very fun. I’m glad I read it. Now, back to work.
Slacker.
Nice.
I’m reminded of The Man Who Folded Himself, minus the protagonist having sex with male and female versions of himself.
I am not familiar with that work.
It’s fun; check it out.
I know a limerick with a similar theme.
It’s somewhat dark here (Glibs After Dark), spill.
It’s not as salacious as I made it sound, it only hits on the folding oneself not fucking oneself.
There once was a man from Arras
Who laid himself out on the grass
And with little trouble
He bent himself double
And stuck his own head up his ass.
If the head goes in, and then out, once, I consider that fucking.
/ but I have loose standards
I thought you left?
That was a mis-reading of one of my, ‘The links are late, I guess the site is done’ “jokes” on the part of many people’s wishful thinking.
I didn’t mis-read it. I was being hyperbolic.
Also, I like your new (to me) avatar.
Now I need to invent a time machine so I can change my response to “And I thought you’d be bigger.” which was my gut reaction, but I was worried some of you nerds wouldn’t get the reference, so I went with the wordy explanatory one.
“And I thought you’d be bigger.”
Patrick Swayze’s birthday was Wednesday of this week.
I contend that he is the best worst actor* (followed closely by Nic Cage, though Nic Cage in Wickerman was awesome, and Gone in Three Seconds is awesome despite him).
I watched “Road House” in a cool Walker, Minnesota cinema on a hot summer night with several of my YMCA Summer Camp friends.
*so bad he’s good
I haven’t seen Roadhouse since it came out on VHS. I should rectify that.
Or The Cat Who Walks Through Walls which was not one of my favorite Heinlein novels.
Not that I’m saying I didn’t enjoy UCS here.
That is still the only book I’ve chucked at a wall.
I can relate.
It’s not entitled The Book That Sails Through Walls.
The only one for me was whichever GoT book had the Red Wedding.
I remember finishing that book. I don’t remember much about it.
Not All You Zombies?
/spoiler alert I guess
Now there’s an awful stack of paradoxes.
I read that out of context and was expecting All You Zombies.
They were so close to making it, but failed.
They used to play all the local bars in the tri state area before they went big and flamed out.
I have a solid track record of following bands that come “this close”.
It’s probably better that way anyway. A lot of them soldier on for decades making probably better music than they would have if they got big.
I enjoy the way Wiki puts it.
I would have expected that too before an hour ago, except the story was referenced in the Wikipedia article for the book I mentioned.
In fact I was seconds away from linking it ?
Don’t be mad.
Yeah, I didn’t spot the “grumble” emoji and hit that one instead. ?
Wow! I haven’t heard that song in a long time.
That is some Ted S. level esoterica, MikeS.
Im going to take that as a complement.
You should.
TedS. is a genius.
I’m also reminded of an Asimov book that didn’t suck and which has similar themes, The End of Eternity. Probably my favorite of his, if the not the only novel of his I’ve completed and that more than once.
Do I have to be a pansexual to enjoy it?
No, but it wouldn’t hurt. ?
Nice story UnCiv.
Thanks.
I used to love time-travel stories when I was young. But most modern stories devolve into 1) time travel isn’t possible because blah blah blah or 2) time travel causes quantum splits into multi universes. Or worse case, the stories just fucking ignore all the paradoxes they create.
I really like how this one threads the needle to avoid the paradox.
“I really like how this one threads the needle to avoid the paradox.”
And this is how you tell a tale, UCS is damn good,
Huzzah!
Thank you.
If you’re going to tell a time travel story, why not actually tell a time travel story?
I dislike the multiple universes because you never get home.
Paradoxes matter.
I need to find an exception for Temporal Disc golf, it kind of works now, but requires some explantaion,
Since you can’t go home again, that’s inevitable.
Yes you can.
Very cool. Made the lunch hour blast on by.
Tickled my memory. I read Time Wars, a series by Simon Hawke as a teen, and my memories of it are enjoyable.
I might have to read it again. If I can handle fiction aimed at young adults.
Every time I discuss literature with this crowd, I realize I am the worst read person here.
But one of the best writers, I own your stuff,
The cool thing about literature is the fact that there is always something new to discover.
That just makes my nibblies all tingly.
If your nibblies remain all tingly for more than four hours…
Tom T. Hall bought a 1 way ticket…
/Wearing a black arm band this week end
R
I
Faster Horses
Younger Women
Older Whiskey
and More Money
struth!
I don’t like horses though, fast or not.
I like my horses in chrome, on 2 wheels.
Not even water horses?
Of course, the water horse, but I would never attempt to ride them.
/more people killed by hippos than lions
Is that euphemism?
*waggles eyebrows*
P
Vodka puts my mouth in gear
/as evidenced by my posting
I love beer…which leads to music links.
R
I
I most definitely don’t like hay. I always got stuck in the hot barn. There was no breeze like outside. It was humid. It was hot. I was supposed to pack the bales tight to use all the available space, but not too tight to induce mold or spontaneous combustion.
I usually wore shorts and the hay would poke the skin on my legs and my shins.
What city girl wants to see/shag a guy with punctures wounds up and down his legs?
Relevant
P
https://archive.li/TcQYF/5917afee9a6089b42997fa809fc44f64f0fa589e.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.li/AR9Ea/86efbbdbb4aba9925af41e6e56be4c109782ae44.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.li/5IM6Z/b9fe29d144ca2fe64144790999e76922af0e403f.webp
NSFW.
https://archive.li/9Tq9L/5be1bf8a5d59b83cb1d42a6a7c47ebd93b8a8926.jpg
Oh…..
She’s my Favorite, older, and a Momma butt, still beautiful, as it should be,
Ba-zing!
Good heavens you are a busy lot today! The Good Got my brake parts ahead of schedule. The Bad Took out my handy-dandy tool kit which was unfortunately miss-packed, by me. Spent a 1/2 hour making it right and just gave up because of fading daylight. A three hour job and it will rain tomorrow, guaranteed. My front stairs are rotten, my back yard is a mess of horseradish and and raspberries. The one neighbor’s fence is leaning into our yard and our yard wants to consume the people next door. I’m too old to deal with this shit, too prideful to ask for help and too poor to pay someone else to do the tasks. Could be worse, I might have been clinging to side of a C-17.
Horseradish + a little mayonnaise is divine on a steak/roast beef sandwich
/always look on the bright side of life!
I could supply a small grocery store. It all started 23 years ago with a single chunk of root. Now we have Triffids.
My back is so jacked I couldn’t walk today and called my Sister to get me some supplies, it’s becoming harder and harder to even walk to the bathroom, it took 3 hours to do my pitiful set of dishes, Good Luck Festus!
I hear that! My legs gave out this morning again. Not good. Be well, Bob!
I missed PT today, it hurt too much, but i’m gonna get some in tomorow, I don’t want to atrophy,
And even with the Exoskeleton, it hurts like Hell,
Ugh! I’m hoping mine is just a pinched nerve, not something worse. It happens sporadically but it is terrifying when I’m driving. “Can’t feel my right foot!” Not cool.
I have a crushed disc on one side, so my Left hip/leg either goes numb, or agony, I never know which way,and it’s just getting worse,
If you do have to go in don’t expect the same treatment that you received when you last fell off your skateboard. They’re mean to us oldsters. We’re a burden to them. That’s the attitude that I’ve seen and it has doubtlessly gotten worse with the Covid and the hero-worship.
They cater to old folks up here, we are the cleintele, I was told by my Doctor to walk as much as possible, so I have a presription to play Disc as much as possible, but it’s getting hareder to play,
I’d like to think the attitude towards the elderly is more of a Canadian thing where your care is rationed.
if you have insurance they have a space for you,
I’ve got some deck boards in my garage. Only been sitting for a year to replace the rotted ones. Got a bench over the worst one to keep the FedEx yahoos from walking down, or thru, it.
You’re missing your chance, Gustave… Crock pot is always hungry!
Recipes from Farmer Vincent?
I am so glad they are pursuing this.
https://dailycaller.com/2021/08/20/judicial-watch-to-depose-staff-member-over-allegedly-racist-interview-policy-lori-lightfoot/
Her tweets announcing her plan sound like satire. It’s just unbelievable.
wut?
wut? Racist Cunte is Racist, Cunte
Beetlejuice got high on her own supply. She appears have believed the BLM zeitgeist would carry her through this shit. She was wrong. She is going to learn she got her tit caught in the wringer. Judicial Watch is one of the most persistent public litigation outfits I have seen. They will drag her through the entire process.
Beetlejuice. Bwahahaha. For months I’ve been trying to figure out what/who she reminded me of. She really is an exceptionally unattractive person. And ignorant to boot. What a catch!
Picture her with a long neck = E.T.
I’m pretty sure the same people applauding this doctor are the same ones saying a doctor can’t decline to perform an abortion.
https://dailycaller.com/2021/08/20/alabama-doctor-covid-coronavirus-unvaccinated/
Do doctors not take the Hippocratic Oath any more?
Mine doesn’t.. I tried to see him last April. No fucking dice. They are terrified of the cooties or the threat of lawsuits over same. They wanted me to slip a list of my symptoms under their locked door. This shit is happening and it will only get worse. What the fuck happens if I stroke out at work?
It was renamed the Hypocritic Oath.
Or refusing to treat HIV positive patients.
Mendacious assholes. I have come to loathe the CDC.
https://twitchy.com/gregp-3534/2021/08/20/cdc-accused-of-file-drawering-a-study-that-found-student-masking-did-not-have-a-statistically-significant-benefit/
If people got wind of that, why they may start doing crazy things like questioning whether masks work for anyone!
I fail to see why schools would be special environments, outside the reality that covid is less dangerous to the young in general.
Because of the completely SCIENCE!™ based fact that children are asymptomatic super spreaders.
*remembers regurgitated breast milk all over his face, cancels thought*
They’re also rigid rule followers, particularly in grade school.
Some of us were Peter, some of us were Jan.
Marsha confirmed.
It’s getting late so I’ll save my rant for the uselessness of masks for another time. The masks in schools garbage drives me nuts. It’s just a symptom of the CDC’s intellectual rot. My youngest just got prescribed anti-anxiety medication. I am 99% sure it is directly related to pandemic and largely being cutoff from in person events with her friends for nearly a year and half. If any of the faces of public health had the misfortune of crossing the street in front of my car, I would give them a four wheel enema.
Sorry to hear that, buddy. I’m ignorant of such things; is it possibly/likely that this is something she can work through and get off the meds in the future?
Thanks. That’s certainly my hope. I am very leery of these medications. She had anxiety that was successfully treated with therapy before the pandemic. It was a bother but not crippling. She is a great kid and has lots of friends. When she got over the anxiety life really opened up for her. What hit her recently is an order of magnitude worse than what she had before. I think the meds may be a good idea for her. I’m praying she takes them for some limited period of time and then gets off them.
Heard the term “junk science” and it fits perfectly. Lefties and RINOs are using junk science to justify tyranny, as the founders expected someone might.
Here’s to her metal health
That’s what I suggested. Weird that isn’t considered real therapy.
Yet more proof that the medical profession in current year is compromised.
Should I have another beer, or just go to sleep?
More Beer! Cheers!
You should tell me a story.
OK, little Broccolihead. Here’s a story called The Three Little Pigs.
i knew without clicking, Yep!
That’s what I expected. ?
I like ghost stories.
OK, little guy. One more. Here’s a Ghost story for you.
Come listen to a story of a guy named Achmed,
an AK 47 and some goats beside his bed,
Then one day he was Shooting up some Jews,
and came round was a bubbling Crude,
Saudi Style, wahhabi, you know,
The Beverly Arabs!
There’s no reason not to have another beer. You stay up all night and sleep all day.
God, you guys are so predictable!
OK,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nspxAG12Cpc
’80’s LA must have been chock full of old warehouses with rock bands and hot chicks just hanging out.
We had one, it was awesome, Saturday nights there were 30-40 bands playing at once, you could break and check out the other bands, real good time of my Life.
There is some truth to that though not in the same parts of the city. I can only imagine what hanging out on the Sunset Strip was like back then.
If you weren’t signed it was pay to play out in L.A. We hung back in the the IE and made beer money, once at the Roxy, it cost us 700$ dollars to rent the room, we lost money, But we played the Roxy!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0KqYSqIHU_s
Well played Toxeth. I wonder if any of them are still alive.
Gabe Reed is
That looks very interesting. I’m going to have to watch that. Thanks!
Buddy grew up there in the 70’s and left at the end of the 80’s. His picture of the place is… a bit different and not quite as much fun.
Being alone sucks, if you get hurt, you’re on your own, I am really careful, but still messed up me Back, now I’m wondering, what happens to me? Die in a mobile home in the Dark?
What the Hell happened to me?
Let’s chill and Kill,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SDTZ7iX4vTQ&list=RDSDTZ7iX4vTQ&start_radio=1
Hearing ads for Gavin Newsom trying to defeat the recall does my heart good. The idea of Reed Hastings and company spending millions on these ads is wonderful. Keep burning your money Daddy Warbucks.
I’m so glad I live in a little town, no politics, and it’s quiet,
I love Cali, it’s my home but, just no…
I bought the rights to this song, it’s one of my Best, Californis Dreaming, 21 years old, still great Punk,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xxrCaf8P3k
Pipeline, Synsonics drums
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MFZjmDnGT1c
I can’t play piano,
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w3z7QMJHnf0
I’m out. Sleep well, everyone.
Goodnight!
https://youtu.be/v2wqi1qnnt4
Necroposting, but this comment was funny:
Those gals crushed it. Thanks for the link.
ZOMBIE!
*racks shotgun*
suh’ fam
whats goody, yo
Good morning, homey! It’s absolutely gorgeous out here at Tranquility Base right now – the sun is shining through a bit of mist and trees a couple doors down (on the street behind ours.) Just at this very moment getting scolded by the first hummer of the day.
Is your better half safely restored to our Midwestern paradise, even if only for a day or so? (Still hope you can join us this afternoon!)
Sadly, my participation is unlikely. But hope springs eternal.
Yup, she made her Triumphant Return to the Palatial 2X-Wide last night.
Morning.
I’m getting a new AC for the LR today ?
Was supposed to be Tuesday.
Yay! Not a moment too soon, I suspect!
Yah, low 80s but 90% humidity = miserable.
Full disclosure: I had the honor/privilege of beta-reading this story for UCS. I’m certainly pleased with the way it turned out. I hope I was at least a little bit of help in the creative process, even if it was just in the form of asking stupid questions. I apologize to the author for not contributing to the discussion of it here last night – by Friday evenings, I’m almost always so tired I’m not much good for anything but falling asleep on the sofa in front of Ancient Aliens.
In the friday even spot, I got more discussion than I expected.
⬅
Unsurprisingly, I enjoy time travelling fiction. ?
Yeah I had to pack it in by 11 or so.
I used to be up till 2 or 3. What happened to me??
Getting old is a bitch.
*has birthday approaching soon
You quit coke.
No, that was up till 5 or 6.
+ stripper-salt