Until some bastard up on Denali shot a football through it, just so humanity would feel loss for the first time in 15,000 years.

They grieved over a bulb cause they hadn’t lost anything else.

MOTHERFUCKER, YOU ARE A GIRL GODDAMN IT

Nothing, his hands were fine, he was just horsin’ around.

Trans and disabled, so that limits my options a bit.

I think I’d just go back to 2011 and just vibe.

I don’t have to use your word, I can use whatever words I want. It’s why there are options.

You can use whatever words you want to, and you don’t have to use the words I provide.

You don’t have to use the words anyone provides, and no one has to use the words you provide.

This is how language develops, how styles and dialect and vocabulary develops.

And you can stay up and fill my inbox, I don’t care anymore, but I’m going to sleep. To bed. Conk out. Hitting the hay. Getting some rest. Zonk.

It is not.

To censor a language is to censor thought itself.

And if slurs and insults become censored and incapable of thought, what else is on the table, up for removal? Words about being queer, words about body rights, words about lived experiences, words that aren’t fucking corpo-washed.

I have made my point in an unerring straight goddamn line.

Languages should not shrink for any goddamn reason.

Now go to bed, it’s 5:37 in the morning.

Every single one of those words should exist. Even the slurs. That way, we know who’s trouble.

Motherfucker, I do not believe I made myself clear, so allow me to retort:

Languages should not ever shrink at all. Ever. Shrinking languages is some nazi-ass, 1984-ass fascist shit.

Let’s make things clear: you don’t need a euphemism.

I want more euphemisms. I want this language to have some goddamn options and I want the number of words in this language to never fucking decrease for any reason.

Bad take.

You’re erasing the existence of Sappho, who was so gay for girls that the island she came from—the place heretofore unknown for anything—is now known for just how goddamn queer she was, and everyone who experiences sapphic love (hey, another word that got coined off of one poet’s fantastically omnipresent woman lust).

Lesbians. Sapphic lesbians. From Lesbos. That Sappho started. Why?

Girls pretty.

Fifth year or so. Something a teacher shared with me, that they probably shouldn’t have. It wasn’t mainline coursework, they just thought I was smart.

(Nope. Not smart, just have attention issues and look really smart at some things, and helplessly incapable at others.)

I think everything here is in order and nothing’s missing, but I’m not about to reread it and find out.

Let’s go with A Monster’s Expedition Through Puzzling Exhibitions!

Humanity has died through hubris and climate change, and Human Englandland is all flooded. Now it’s the age of monsters! And one monster is touring the now-outdoors old Human Englandland museum, which is an archipelago cause flooding and such. All the bridges washed out, but there’s convenient trees! Let’s go see the museum.

Pushing logs from trees into adjacent water is the point of the game, but it has some of the simplest yet best mechanics about it that I’ve seen in a long time.

Mang, if you want me to, I can just post it.

I got pictures of the text in English, further down my comment history. CTRL-F “autocannibalism”. I don’t have any Japanese copies, that was a long time ago.

“Alright, class! We’re gonna read a story about a guy who locks himself in a hotel room with a decked-out kitchen, a surgery machine, and every prosthesis one could need, and this guy is gonna eat himself from the bottom up and describe it in careful, emotional, joyous detail!”

Yeeeeah, fuck that shit, decades later.

“The Savage Mouth” is the English title, by Komatsu Sakyou.

I’m playing it too, mostly I’m just struggling to go whack Heismay and instead just playing Monster’s Expedition yet again.

Monster’s Expedition never gets old.

I wish Metaphor had amounted to more, and I’m frustrated to see yet another calendar RPG.

It’s not a bad game, but it’s the same food they’ve made for decades.

Surplus food often gets sent to local food banks, where it’s used to help anyone who needs it.

Ah, yet more inharmable cylinders found to be encased in containers, lined with (checks notes) microwaved banana.

Uh, they are called the USSS, for reasons.