I'm not convinced LaFawnduh was the best choice to be Kip's wife. I also wouldn't bet that Kip isn't still chatting with babes...all day long.

Can't really run Windows 11 on a computer built for Windows 8. But that computer runs just fine now using MX Linux with Fluxbox. 😁

I've learned why I struggle to read books and other documents while dreaming at night. Lately, to figure out why, I've decided in my dreams to pay attention to the individual letters. It turns out all the words are not really words after all. Just a cluster of random letters. I guess my sleeping brain just isn't going to go through all the work of coming up with brilliant text for me to read in a dream. I'll have to stick to reading books in real life while I'm awake.

WARNING: This post contains hate speech against Facebook. I hate Facebook with all my heart. I believe in digital privacy. But I'm at my parents' house cleaning up because they have moved. We need to get it ready for sale. I only have a week. I never, ever use Facebook, but I do have an account (with alias name) because I used Facebook Marketplace a couple years ago. Since Marketplace is so effective, last night I advertised various items from the house for sale. I have only logged into Facebook from my Linux computer on an isolated browser with 2FA (TOTP). Using VPN. Suddenly it decides it needs my mobile number in order to confirm that it's truly me. But who else could it be that has my username, my password, and a TOTP? That's the whole purpose of two-factor authentication! Moreover, I have never given it my phone number in the past. Any clown could then put in their phone number -- which could potentially lock ME out. Makes no sense. In desperation, I put in my VoIP number. Rejected. It demands a regular mobile number. With hatred in my heart, I submitted my mobile number. And, of course, the privacy notice says the number can be used to suggest friends and to be used for affiliate programs. Facebook is evil and I hate it. Imagine a world where communities across the land used a Nostr marketplace.

Let every September 10 be CK Day. #charliekirk

I need a brain cleanser, a heart cleanser. After repeatedly having gruesome stabbings and shootings put in front of my face over the last couple weeks, this evening I'm taking my wife to watch The Sound of Music at the movie theater. Dealing with the problem of cruel thugs and murderous trannies is wearisome. It will be more refreshing to revisit the question: "How Do We Solve a Problem Like Maria?"

If a hole in the neck had been sensationaly inflicted upon Barack or Kamala or ol' Joe, I'm certain there would be NOT ONE musician or coworker or social media video celebrating it. That would be repulsive, unthinkable. Yet the demons are out now, manifesting among us in tattooed, nose-pierced furry fags and dirty dykes. Christ is King. He will not be mocked. Vengeance is his.

You can't change your gender; you can only change your clothes. What people like to call "transgender" now is what we used to call "transvestite." I will say "tranny," but will never say "transgender," even if such a person chooses to be surgically mutilated. Don't accept the premises of the Enemy's twisted vocabulary. Speak truth.

Worshiping the crotch god leads to all manner of evil. This idolatry leads to personality disorders, broken families, and murder. It's the fast track to hell.

I've been impressed with the nostr client Jumble.social. Good work!

Jim Bob was the funniest Walton.

I wish I had a real-life, in-person Jehovah's Witness friend.

People on Bluesky are evil. I think maybe Satan signed up for an account and created a million bots.

Ignorant city folk don't know where their food comes from. They think it just comes from the store. But here is a picture to help: The cow standing up with a leash is where steak comes from. The other cows are where we get ground beef.

BVM > BTC

Remember that stacking sats or Monero means absolutely nothing without Christ. Nothing.

True story: I once played basketball with a learning-disabled teen who literally could not tell the difference between left and right, which was a problem for executing our plays. I did not make fun of him, but tried to help. I said to hold out his hands and see which one formed an "L" with his thumb. That's the Left hand. He was happy. But the very next time he tried it on our end of the court, he held out his hands palms-up! 😆