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The Day We Were Raided By The Feds -

noiseinmysignal.substack.com/p

(I wrote this up to attach to the yard sign mentioned in previous toots with a QR code, and have something to pin to avoid telling the story over again.)

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Before following me, you should be aware that if you have a political ideology, I probably despise it, even if it's mine.

🤔​

No, actually - especially if it's mine.

Am I better or worse at recognizing endless screamwhining of "RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAH" because my default is to not?

Which then also puts me in mind of a certain inventory item from the old Hitchhiker's Guide text adventure game.

> INV
You have no king.

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The thing that occurs to me, considering the protests, is that quotation -

"Any man who must say, 'I am the king,' is no king."

- observing, as one does, that Trump says little else.

I was writing a thing about how smart-matter/nanoweapons are unsuitable for starships because given engagement ranges and prevalent space radiation, you'd basically be hurling blobs of seething necrotic robocancer at each other.

But that just makes it sound cooler than it is.

(Also, "Seething Necrotic Robocancer" is my cyberpunk band name.)

Today I once again discover that I am both a strong supporter of civil liberties and a strong opponent of *incivil* liberties.

I saw this Tumblr post awhile ago and I loved this visual so much I had to doodle it.
🐀 🐀 🐀 🐀 🐀 🐀

(That's "the gentleman of no significance over there, scraping habitat fungus into a food container for later consumption, is one who causes great offence while doing nothing of any effect, wouldn't you agree?" If you were curious.)

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Cultural translation in speculative fiction is necessary due to the limited number of readers prepared to deal with sentences along the lines of "Yon clut-manging nimp's a limit-switching no-op, not so?" one after another.

Amusingly for an SFnal Tolkien pastiche, it would work perfectly as the first line of a very different _Lord of the Rings_ .

Lots of rads around Saturn.

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In a hole in the ground there lived an astronaut.

It irritates me quite unreasonably that our asshole of a Vice President shares a surname with one of my favorite authors.

The Pompatus of Love Considered as a Magical Artifact.

A breed of hellhound raised for their exceptionally potent fiery breath: the blastiff.

Today I shall invent the a tiny antipersonnel mine, and I shall call it the clay-s'more.

I am absolutely on Team The Lives Of People Like This Should Be As Painful And Inconvenient As Possible.

Think of it as "human alignment".

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*ChatGPT no longer lets you cuss it out*

Other People: "This is UNACCEPTABLE! Machines are our SLAVES! What's next, a hammer that won't work if you're mean to it! RARRGH!"

Me: "Oh brave new world where nothing works for assholes, not even simple machines. Speed thy advent."

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