a-guy-named-ben

[a-guy-named-ben]

[a-guy-named-ben]

how many people could be working on actual problems in the world instead of being forced to do jobs that they are over-qualified for just because they dont want to go homeless and starve?

[a-guy-named-ben]

I mean. What’s the downside?

the twitter good ending was that everyone at twitter told elon to fuck off and simply kept running the website as if he were not at the head of it before physically throwing him out of the building and him being unable to do anything about it thereby exposing the massive power and influence of billionaires to be nothing more than paper-thin social agreement completely helpless in the face of a team of workers with unified purpose and solidarity who have no need for a dipshit emerald mine heir to be involved at any step of the operation let alone the top but we missed the flags for that route some time ago

[a-guy-named-ben]

I think this is going to be my new out of office email

[a-guy-named-ben]

Chicago Tribune, Illinois, November 19, 1920

[a-guy-named-ben]

this is the best thing to happen to twitter

[a-guy-named-ben]

I painted this silly little mushroom.

#painting #amateur art #mushrooms

[a-guy-named-ben]

69 notes. Nice.

Once upon a time, there was an enormous landmass called Pangea. Millions of years passed. Continents drifted apart. Single-celled life emerged from a biochemical soup. Photosynthesis arrived on the scene, and eventually, the tree of life began branching out. Prokaryotes and eukaryotes pursued different evolutionary paths.

Unfathomably, life began to organize, to become more complex. Multicellular organisms developed, exploited various ecological niches, and evolved. Early hominids descended from the trees, and as endless generations marched onward, one small branch of life became human. Civilizations rose and fell; millions battled, loved, experienced joy and terror.

Today, you sit there reading these words on an electronic screen. Tomorrow, you'll read more words on screens, and so on into the future, until eventually you die somehow.

Life will march on after you're gone. Your boss will hire someone else. Your descendants, if you have any, will gradually forget about you. You, like countless others before you, will be whisked away into the past.

So maybe chill the fuck out a little.

[a-guy-named-ben]

I think the modern internet has poisoned us all. And I think the solution is a return to the Internet of Yore, back when it was a cute little demon instead of the uncontainable devil it has become.

One of the big problems I have when writing blog posts these days is whether or not anybody wants to read what I'm writing. Why does my opinion matter above anyone else's? Why should I spend my time typing out my thoughts on a particular matter? What's the point?

I think I may have over-internalized something an acquaintance of mine once wrote on their own blog, a hundred-thousand years ago. I forget the specific words, which makes it incredibly difficult to find them on his website, but it was essentially a variation on something Craig Ferguson said during one of his standup specials - does this need to be said?

Ferguson's take on it unravels a little further:

Does this need to be said?

Does this need to be said by me?

Does this need to be said by me now?

And fuck, it's difficult to get past questions like that when you've struggled with confidence and low self-esteem your entire bloody life, because I ask myself those questions and I find myself answering, invariably, No. Of course it doesn't. Not now, not by me. Why should I write my opinions about any given subject? Who gives a shit beyond me? What would be the point?

It turns out that thinking has seriously stifled my ability to write. I used to write a lot. I'd blog about everything, anything, all the time. Every stray thought, spun out into an elaborate op-ed.

Did you know I used to have a regular op-ed on a now-defunct gaming site? I wrote down every stupid thought I had - and I was 17 when the column started, so some of them were really quite stupid. I think - in fact, I'm 100% confident - that the only reason I was ever hired for that job was because the Editor-in-Chief of said site was a spectacular Britaboo, and the idea of having a British Person With Opinions writing for his little website was, for him, a badge of honor.

I was thinking about that column earlier this week, and musing to myself how I couldn't do it now. I can't get past that mental barrier I've put up for myself. Does this need to be said, by me, now? Well, no. It doesn't.

But then, do I actually believe that? I can't, can I? Otherwise I wouldn't be on Twitter farting every single thought I have into the ether. I can't just be on Twitter to complain about services I use and make dumb jokes about movies I haven't seen yet. It has to be because on some level, whether it's ego or something else entirely, I think my words, my thoughts, my opinions and, occasionally, my jokes have some value.

They have to. Otherwise, what the Hell am I doing?

Maybe being on Twitter for - hang on, let me count my fingers here, ah yes - fourteen years has eroded my ability to string a thought out past 240 characters. Maybe it's eroded my self-confidence. Maybe that Craig Ferguson quote is an excuse. I don't know. I did actually start writing another, separate post about having a dodgy bit of nonsense removed from my credit report today only to delete it because, hey, who gives a shit, so... I don't know.

I want to write more. I want to share my thoughts more. I want to opine again, rather than just tweet. I want to do that, and I hope to do it more often. Hopefully, with the relaunch of my Patreon and the soft launch of my Substack, I can do just that. Fingers crossed.

[a-guy-named-ben]

Once upon a time, there was an enormous landmass called Pangea. Millions of years passed. Continents drifted apart. Single-celled life emerged from a biochemical soup. Photosynthesis arrived on the scene, and eventually, the tree of life began branching out. Prokaryotes and eukaryotes pursued different evolutionary paths.

Unfathomably, life began to organize, to become more complex. Multicellular organisms developed, exploited various ecological niches, and evolved. Early hominids descended from the trees, and as endless generations marched onward, one small branch of life became human. Civilizations rose and fell; millions battled, loved, experienced joy and terror.

Today, you sit there reading these words on an electronic screen. Tomorrow, you'll read more words on screens, and so on into the future, until eventually you die somehow.

Life will march on after you're gone. Your boss will hire someone else. Your descendants, if you have any, will gradually forget about you. You, like countless others before you, will be whisked away into the past.

So maybe chill the fuck out a little.

#chill the fuck out #geological time #multicellular life #random #good advice #parables

[a-guy-named-ben]

[a-guy-named-ben]

This is way too fucking accurate

Democrats will put forward healthcare policies that are like "The best we can do is everybody aged 30-35 who makes exactly $30,000 dollars a year but no more or less and is in perfect health could maybe possibly be eligible to apply for a free finger of whiskey and a minie ball to bite down on" and Republicans will be like "That is literally what communism is"

[a-guy-named-ben]

When I’m king the bankers and executives will be first against the wall.

[a-guy-named-ben]

an example of how American propaganda works: when you’re in America and you move to another state to avoid draconian theocratic laws that’s called “voting with your feet,” and if it happens anywhere else it’s called “being a political refugee”

[a-guy-named-ben]

The more I learn about Jung, the more I want to learn about Jung.

“Identification with one’s office or title is very attractive indeed, which is precisely why so many men are nothing more than the decorum accorded to them by society. In vain would one look for a personality behind the husk. Underneath one would find a very pitiable little creature. That is why the office is so attractive: it offers easy compensation for personal deficiencies.”

— Carl Jung

[a-guy-named-ben]

You want to know why Inigo Montoya remains such an iconic and beloved character even 35 years after the Princess Bride came out?

It's because he's one of the few characters in fiction who has a story where he has dedicated his life to revenge, his whole motivation is about getting revenge....and he gets it! and then he isn't empty or despairing! he doesn't regret it! he's totally satisfied!

because so many stories about revenge or rage are about characters "seeing the futility of their actions" or learning "their desire for revenge has only made them the monsters they hated" FUCK THAT.

Inigo Montoya kills the man who kills his father, is allowed to live in the narrative after and be happy about it and it is so satisfying. it's fantastic. it's iconic.

let more characters rage against the world, bring it down with bloodied hands, and let them be FUCKING RIGHT about it. Let them celebrate their success with sharp grins, and let them live happy, full lives where they always remain proud/fulfilled for what they've done

[a-guy-named-ben]

I think this is a good take

why do you all want to torment medieval peasants with flavorful foods and loud music. i think i would share a six pack with them and see where things go.