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Cake day: June 19th, 2023

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  • This is all you fucking do. These shitty little comments that are supposed to look like irony, but are empty and mindless.

    What’s the deal? Why have you put in that much time on lemmy making essentially the same comment over and over again? Like, often enough that I don’t even have to look at the user name when there’s a comment like this, it’s going to be you.

    There has to be a reason behind it, some kind of thing in your head that makes you think it’s a beneficial hobby, so what is it? Help a motherfucker out, I don’t like blocking people unless there’s no other choice, so show me the human behind the blathering.


  • Well, having sat with people of that age bracket when they were sick or dying, when most people drop pretence, I have a different opinion than those already presented.

    It isn’t necessarily about “simpler times”, though some folks that age use the term. And it isn’t about racism or sexism either, because it isn’t just white folks or men that express the idea.

    There is a big dose of nostalgia involved, but you don’t see the desire to return to the era of childhood or teen years as much in older or younger generations.

    The common thread that makes 50 kids yearn for the era is largely that they lost a sense of their place in the world. The 50 were before vietnam made the big schism it did, before men and women needed to examine their own expectations for themselves, and before the post war wave of optimism faded.

    You gotta know, the kids and teens in the fifties, despite the cold war and nuclear bomb drills, had an optimistic world around them. Well, in the “western” world mostly. The good guys won the war, and regardless of what anyone else thinks now, that’s what the perception was. To someone growing up then, the prospect of being able to have a career, family, and eventually retirement with relative ease was real.

    Again, this isn’t just for white men. Black people have expressed to me that despite the awareness there was going to be a fight for equality, the hope of success was strong. Little girls had moms that had worked during the war, and gained the prestige that comes with it, but came back to being moms and wives because they didn’t need to work (again this was perception, and that matters more than current ideas about that for this purpose).

    That post war generation, the literal boomers, had hope, even the ones that were dirt poor, even some of the black people, and most of the women. By the time the sixties came around, that hope was changing. They were reaching young adulthood among the earliest boomers, and they started to see that the world wasn’t what they thought it was.

    Sexual revolutions, the pill, the civil rights struggle, vietnam, things were no longer as rosy as they were promised, though many of them were finding freedoms as much as they were finding struggles. They just couldn’t look at the world with those rosy, optimistic glasses any more. Shit got complicated and confusing and it was the boomers and the younger segment of the preceding generation that drove some of the positive changes at the same time they were being chewed up by the meat grinder of capitalism and war.

    Who wouldn’t look back at a period of optimism as a better time? If the eighties had been as promising as the fifties, I’d be looking back on it as a golden era too.

    But hey, us Xers and millennials, we will look back on the nineties as a better time most likely. We saw a lot of good happen. It’s largely being undone now, but damn it was nice while it lasted seeing the expansion of acceptance of gay people, reduced barriers between black and white people in specific (less so with other “races”) as the freedom to marry and blend together worked its chemistry. Even some of the racists backed off once their grandbabies were mixed.

    Yeah, like the fifties, that optimism covered an ugly reality, but it was still better than the seventies had been, and we thought that the worst aspects of the Reagan era were going to eventually get fixed.

    Now, OP, I can’t speak for your dad. The above definitely didn’t apply to everyone I’ve ever known from that generation. Some of them were racist assholes even then. Some of them still think women are only good for one thing (and some of those are women). And you’re definitely right that living queer back then would be horrible even in more accepting cities. To gain access to all those things people were optimistic about, you’d have to be closeted and very very careful.

    But it isn’t as simple as folks tend to think. Your dad’s generation wasn’t a monolith, and even the more progressive among that peer group often look back on the fifties as a great era to be born into. I can’t even entirely disagree tbh. Looking back on it from now, the thirty years after 1950 were amazing in the amount of progress made socially, technologically, and economically for a lot of people. It’s easy to ignore the bad parts when we’re/they’re sitting here with these magic devices in our hands.

    Conservatives are more prone to wanting to return everything to the way life was then, but plenty of us liberals, progressives, general liberals, and even full on leftists can see that we lost some of the good stuff when we had to root out the bad (despite failing to do so)



  • Not too bad.

    But I was fucking around while trying to learn to ride a bike. Went too fast, hit a bump on a dirt road. Went over the handlebars, slid face first a few feet into a ditch.

    Now, like I said, I wasn’t badly injured. It was all just scrapes and bruises. But they were deep scrapes from my forehead all the way down one side of my face, then my chest and belly, plus along the inner side of my right arm from trying to stop myself.

    Every scrape was filled with dirt and gravel, which had to be picked out. Then it all needed flushing out. So by the time it was all done I was high from endorphins and crying and screaming, looked like a shredder had beaten the shit out of me, and was both throbbing and burning along the entire scraped section.

    Then I had to go to school like that lol.



  • There isn’t a single one for me.

    However, I gotta put a lot of weight to the “all the way” that’s pretty much the default in my area. Mustard, onions, slaw, and what’s called either hot dog sauce, or chili sauce. Which, the sauce is similar to “hot dog chili”, but not the same; it’s a little different spices and in cooking methods. Secret family recipes abound.

    It’s an amazing combination when paired with any of the standard store brands, or the “red” hot dogs the are popular here in the south.

    I’m also a big fan of mustard and kraut. I tend to prefer it on fancier frankfurters and other kinds of sausage, brats and kielbasa in particular.

    There’s the “pizza dog”, aka an “italian” dog. Has zero to do with Italy anything that I’ve ever seen, but that’s what it gets called sometimes. This is a double preparation dog. You cook the franks however you prefer (I recommend either “dirty water” or a mid tier beer boil). You then place them in buns, top them with your choice of tomato sauces like marinara, then with the usual “italian” melty cheeses; mozzarella, provolone, maybe some parmesan. Do this in a baking pan or whatever, then put it in at 350F until the cheese melts and slightly browns.

    You can get fancier with that, but it’s absurdly satisfying just like that.

    I don’t mind what I call a basic dog. Bun, frank, mustard and ketchup. That’s for when you’ve got a really solid flavored dog that you want to savor. The acid from the mustard and ketchup cut through the fats as you chew, bringing the meat flavors back across your palate in waves. But a lot of the time, I’d rather do kraut and mustard if the dog is really rich on its own.

    I fucking love hotdogs tbh.




  • I don’t actually keep snakes because I’ve never had a living situation that I felt was healthy for them until after I no longer felt I could handle them to my standards. But I love the little buggers. The big buggers too lol.

    Snakes don’t really have friends. They have friendly associates. They come to trust people, and as long as you respect that they aren’t social creatures, can be quite companionable despite not really having friends. Mutual respect and trust go a long way towards serving the same role as affection.

    They can even enjoy human company. It’s just that the same kind of bond you get with social creatures isn’t there. It’s like the difference between a work buddy that you get along great with, but have no interest in outside of work; and someone that you have a deep connection to. Snakes are work buddies.

    If a snake is voluntarily climbing around your neck, it ain’t going to choke you unless something weird happens. Usually, if it’s well socialized, you can pick it up and put it there, and nothing will happen. But you do run into snakes that aren’t used to being handled like that, or aren’t familiar with someone getting scared and reacting. But they still aren’t trying to kill you, they’re just reacting to fear. Kinda like if you run up to a stranger and grab them from behind. Most of the time, you’ll just get “hissed” at (which snakes don’t really do in this situation), but every now and then you get slapped.

    People talk to them because people like talking to animals. It’s a monkey thing. I talk to my chickens all the time. They maybe understand ten words, but they like being talked to for whatever reason. Snakes aren’t as into being talked to, nor are other reptiles. But they tend to recognize a calm demeanor as non threatening, and may be soothed by a steady voice. But there’s plenty that could care less what we monkeys chatter about.

    People that keep them have any number of reasons for doing so. But what I like about snakes is that they’re no bullshit. They’re gonna snake, all day every day. They feel nice to the touch, and sometimes enjoy being touched, and will give you plenty of warning if they aren’t in the mood. They’re also gorgeous.

    I still vividly recall my first real exposure to a snake. Some guy went around local schools with exotic, but “safe” animals. And they must have been because nobody ever had any problems with his critters

    But he had a massive snake. I can’t recall what kind it was. Boa or python, I’m not even sure of that, much less what kind. But this big ol’ gal was bigger around than my arm now and I used to lift regularly. She was cool to the touch, and curious about us little baby apes. She’d sniff with her tongue, and move her head to look at whatever kid was closest. You had to be super good to be one of the kids holding her while the guy talked about her, but if you were, and you were at the head, she was prone to hiding her head under arms. Which tickled, but was just awesome.

    He had smaller snakes too, and those were almost as chill as that big one. I had one crawl up my sleeve once. It worked it’s way across my shoulders and pokes its head out of my collar. The guy was worried, but I was grooving on it, so the snake just stayed there until the end of the thing.

    I dunno if schools would allow that kind of thing nowadays though. Which, as an aside, he didn’t just bring snakes, it was all kinds of critters; spiders, turtles (terrapins), scorpions, hissing cockroaches, mantises, all kinds of stuff. not all of that was handled by students obviously. But he always had snakes, and they were all super relaxed around kids.

    Like I said, the only reason I don’t have one is that I couldn’t provide a healthy and optimal environment for a snake. I made the mistake years and years ago of trying to take care of an iguana. This house doesn’t have the space needed for a proper enclosure, so I ended up passing the iguana to a guy that was super dedicated to reptiles. Nowadays, I couldn’t do the work involved anyway, even if I had the room. Chickens are hard enough



  • There’s two ways to look at tattoos for a family member. Well, two common ones.

    One is that names are a very direct reminder, and thus make it a very visceral connection.

    The other is that, as art, names don’t hold up well, so something symbolic is both prettier and carry meaning beyond what a name can.

    Now, I don’t personally think that tattoos need to be art. They’re a very personal thing, and just getting them for other people to see defeats part of what I love about them (despite only having ever gotten two out of my entire plan).

    A person’s name in a place like you’re thinking is wonderful. Subtle, personal, close to the heart, so you can’t go wrong.

    However, if you wanted something fancier, that’s not too difficult to brainstorm. I’d look at stuff that reminds you of him as the first place to think about. Like, maybe a flower that reminds you of him, or a favorite toy he had/has as a baby out toddler.

    But there’s really no limit to options.






  • Eh, in general, the use case for peroxide instead of anything else on wounds just isn’t there.

    Anything that’s meant to kill off small living cells is going to do exactly that, and not give a damn if those cells are bacteria or your body. Now, it is true that not all chemicals will kill off every given microbe equally, and that applies to your skin/muscle cells as well. That still doesn’t mean that any given agent is going to do anything useful for your healing.

    If the concern is microbes, germs, quantity of rinsing simply does a better job at cleaning a wound of them. A lot of water is better than a minimal use of peroxide or alcohol, or whatever. For one thing, if you have running water, you don’t have to keep opening new bottles. If you’re out in the woods, you can still have a better chance of a large amount of water being available compared to finding a magic spring that spouts peroxide. So just the reality of availability makes carrying that kind of thing kinda pointless.

    It’s easy to look at all the bubbling peroxide does and think it’s really getting in there and pulling things out, but it isn’t true. If anything, the bubbling is reducing contact time with anything it’s supposed to be killing. So you’d have to continue rinsing with it. And then you’re right back to where water alone is better.

    You don’t need soap for wounds either. Indeed, you shouldn’t be using it in wounds in the first place. That’s never been a recommendation that I’ve seen. Not surprising that it would irritate a wound bed. You can use soap on the skin around a wound, but even that isn’t necessary, and it’s not useful unless there’s contamination from something that water alone won’t clear away. The only time I can think of where soap would be used directly in the boundaries of a wound would be with some kind of thick, oily substance being in it. Even then, I’m dubious as to how much benefit you’d get compared to just water or saline with gentle wiping of the wound.

    Peroxide also isn’t going to do anything positive to reduce bleeding. The opposite, actually, since it’s going to break up platelets trying to form a scab. You might wash away enough blood from a minor cut that it takes longer to be visibly bloody again, but that just means it wasn’t bleeding fast to begin with.

    And, once you’ve used peroxide, you still have to rinse because if you don’t, not only are all the particulates still in the wound, so is the peroxide. So you’d have the stuff sitting there killing cells well after you bandage the wound, and that’s not a good thing at all. So why waste money and time when you can just rinse instead?

    Even if you have a contaminated water supply, you’d still be better off buying saline in bottles for wound cleaning than peroxide.

    You may or may not notice a difference in healing if you had identical wounds at the same time and used different methods to clean them. That’s not the kind of experiment you can get away with clinically. But, if you compare outcomes from enough people over time, it starts showing up that wounds heal at least a tiny bit slower, and often less evenly. I’ve never read anything about scar formation, but I suspect that if you did it with two wound on the same person, you’d end up with a measurable (if miniscule) difference there.

    I’m not saying to never ever use it. It’s better than nothing at flushing a wound out. If you aren’t in a situation where anything else is possible, go for it. But I wouldn’t reach for it first.




  • I’m not sure why you’re positing anything when there’s established knowledge about ingrown nails, and professionals that can both diagnose any structural abnormalities, and treat them using already proven modalities.

    The answer is to go back to your podiatrist and follow their instructions.

    If you’re having chronic ingrown nails, there’s an issue that needs to be corrected, and you aren’t going to improvise a solution, especially with tools that aren’t designed for the job.

    Seriously here, you’re making your problem worse with what you’re doing. If your nails are shaped weird or are growing abnormally, you aren’t going to do anything useful just grinding them thin. Best case, you don’t cause more ingrown nails. Worst case you get more of them, and they’re worse because now they’re flexing more severely, and thus dig into the nail bed in worse ways.

    Nobody here can diagnose your underlying problem. Could be your footwear, could be a malformation, could be fungal (though unlikely that it wouldn’t have been caught previously, fungal infection s can cause nails to grow in odd ways and lead to chronic ingrown nails), could be even less likely things.

    But you aren’t going to dremel your way out of it.

    Go see your doctor and find out what’s causing the issue to begin with.


  • I dunno, I’ve kinda lost track of what is and isn’t gender expected in terms of “mandatory” skills, and when it comes to hobbies, there’s only a few that I’ve ever thought of as being outside of traditional options.

    But, yeah, like the example given, I’ve always been able to sew to some degree or another. My hands don’t let me hand sew big projects any more, but still know how to.

    I’m also okay with decorative needlework like cross stitching, and embroidery. Cross stitch was absolutely a gender norm for women on my mom’s side of my family, but some boys of my generation picked it up. Embroidery, I picked up in art classes in jr high school and just enjoyed enough to keep at it.

    Crochet and knitting were also a women’s craft/hobby on that side, and I tried my hand at both. Didn’t like knitting much, but crochet was a nice thing. Kinda stopped fucking with it after I moved out on my own though. Not much use for it, so it was pure hobby and I had other things I’d prefer spending money on.

    On my dad’s side, sewing was about women’s work, but everyone knew enough to patch up a torn shirt or replace a button. My grandmother was a quilter and prone to making her own clothes. I learned a little of both from her.

    Both grandmothers were good with a sewing machine, as was my mom. We had a machine when I was growing up, and my mom would make clothes. So I was fairly freely able to experiment with one. Never really got into it, but I can still turn out wearable items, as long as you don’t expect high fashion or expert stitching. Like, my hems are crooked as a politician, but the clothes will fit okay enough.

    Truth be told, my mom’s side of the family didn’t really care about gendered interest limits. Us kids were always allowed to at least try things out, and were expected to help with any tasks on demand. My sister can do some basic woodworking. One of my cousins played american football in high school, the only girl in her state at the time. All of the women except my grandmother can/could change tires and oil. And all of the boys can handle normal housework and cooking, and some of us played with dolls and such.

    There weren’t any hard lines drawn. Yeah, our grandparents stayed along pretty traditional lines, but they would teach any of us what we were interested in, plus helped make sure we could all handle basic necessities. The only real limitations were that most of the adults had similar interests, so we could only pick things up they knew about. You wanted to learn outdoorsy stuff, you could get a dozen people teaching you. You wanted to learn about repairing electronics, good luck unless it was old electronics (my grandfather did some of that in the Navy before he became an officer, but that way in the sixties lol).

    But, yeah, I’m always amazed when guys can’t even sew a button on their shirt. I carry a small sewing kit with me in my day bag, and an even smaller kit in my pocket organizer. Like, it’s a life skill, you need to know this shit, it isn’t just for women.

    What’s really funny in that regard is a guy I used to know. He’d crack jokes about my sewing kit, but dude worked with leather. And he’d sew leather as part of that. But he would say, “yeah, but it’s leather. That’s for men. Cloth is for women, dude.”