Ellipses and You. . .

We need to have a chat, people writing internet comments.

On behalf of many good and decent citizens out there in the world, I would like to take a moment and educate you on a fun little punctuation tool called the ellipsis. Why, you ask? Well to put it simply it's because you're using it so fucking wrong it makes the rest of us want to go to your house and smash your keyboard over your hands until there is nothing left of either but a pulpy soup of letter keys and metacarpals.

The insult to people who weren't raised by jackals that is ellipsis use in internet commenting has gone on long enough. You don't need to put 8 dots after every complaint about millennials you cobble together under an article about avocado toast you didn't actually read, Sharon, you heinous shrew. They are called commas and periods, fucking learn when to use them.

I am not claiming my mastery over the written English language is impeccable, I'm like 80% certain I misused a comma before the name Sharon in a paragraph belittling a hypothetical woman for not using punctuation correctly. However, I do make at least a marginal attempt not to type like I'm slipping in and out of a coma between every sentence and want the reader to experience what that feels like through my use of punctuation. I don't think it's too much to ask that others do the same.

In case you are not familiar with the terminology, an ellipsis looks like this: ". . ." Three dots each separated by a single space. There is a lovely source you can check out here, which explains in what some might describe as excruciating detail exactly what the ellipsis is and how it is used. The TLDR version is as follows:

The ellipses in it's formal use is a punctuation mark that is used to annotate where something has been omitted from a quote. The informal or colloquial use of an ellipsis is the one with which we are going to be concerning ourselves. It is used to indicate when a thought trails off before it is finished, or that there is otherwise some marked pause or hesitation which requires something with more punch than your standard comma provides. It's like the pause for dramatic effect mark.

Here is an example:

"Six ellipses in three sentences is worse than. . . UGH!"

What is it worse than, person being quoted? Hitler? Adult-onset chronic swamp ass? Nickleback? We don't know specifically because of how you appropriately trailed off, leaving your thought incomplete before changing gears, but goddamn if we don't understand the emotion of helpless frustration you are currently feeling over some pigeon-toed jackanapes not knowing how to write like a civilized human.

So! Now that we all understand how to appropriately apply ellipses to our everyday internet commentinglet's look at some examples of people who are single handedly responsible for ruining society for the rest of us.


Let's start with our friend from the beginning of the post, why don't we?

 
 

Perfect example of somebody who doesn't know what the fuck he is doing around a keyboard but isn't going to let that stop him from trying to make people feel bad on the internet.

Sir, you wrote four sentences and ended three of them with ellipses. Why? Were you trying to give the reader ample time to recover from each of your fucking burns before continuing on to the next one? Am I supposed to be like "OH FUCK A RON WHITE ONE LINER FROM 2004 THIS GUY JUST SLICED MY FUCKING NIPPLES OFF WITH HIS RAZOR SHARP WIT HOW CAN I EVEN CONTINUE READING. . . Oh, thank God, he's incorporated some convenient dots forcing my brain to take what feels like an inappropriately placed pause while reading his comme-OF FUCK MY WAFFLES JUST AS I WAS RECOVERING FROM THE FIRST ONE HE JUST HIT ME WITH SOME FORREST GODDAMN GUMP SOMEBODY GET A MOP BECAUSE I JUST SPILLED MY GIBBLETS ALL OVER THE FLOOR FROM THE INTENSITY OF THE GUT PUNCHERS THIS GUY IS THROWING OUT ONE AFTER ANOTHER."

The only guess I can take as to why people use ellipses this way is that they think it gives each sentence more gravitas, not understanding that all it does is make the reader think the author is slightly less literate than a fourth grader who only scored in the 20th percentile for not writing like a fucking asshole.

In fact, the only sentence this person DIDN'T end with an ellipsis in the comment above was the last one which is in fact the only one he fucking wrote where it would have made sense! Not only did he select that particular sentence as the only one that somehow didn't need drama dots added to it, he didn't punctuate it at all. There are nine periods in that sentence you corndog, you couldn't have spared one more for the end of your thought?  You've failed me, guy who is apparently mad at a person or group of people he considers stupid. You've failed us all.

 
 

Alrighty, you used the correct form of 'their' so credit where credit is due, but I have a lot of problems with this next one. In no particular order:

  • You shouldn't be allowed to make your profile picture a sweet adorable puppy and then start herniating yourself yelling about fake news and democrats, it's false advertising. I don't like being lulled into a false sense of security by that 10/10 good doggo only to get purple-nurpled by the fact that the comment appearing next to it was written by a butthole.
  • Demwits is a pretty ok burn, but the fact that they emphasized it demWITS instead of DEMwits the way they should have ruined the wordplay. Like, the part of the word dimwit that you replaced with 'dem' from democrats is where you place the stress when you make the pun, get it together, we're trying to have a society over here.
  • One of those ellipses has four dots instead of three because apparently they weren't satisfied butchering their comment with the use of poorly placed pauses, they had to be inconsistent about it.

While those are bad enough, I could overlook it all if it weren't for this part:

Let me explain why this is an abomination through use of a visual aid representing exactly what "...LOL..." would look like:

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Take heed lest you too should ever be inclined to write . . . LOL . . . in the fucking middle of a thought and come off as if you were kicked in the head by an emu at a petting zoo when you were a child.


I could go on for ages about how abusing ellipses in your internet commenting makes you sound like a half-assed Captain Kirk on a mission to boldly go where no one with at least a sixth grade reading level and any sense of self respect has gone before, but instead I'll leave you with what to me is the most perplexing question I find myself asking in all of this:

Why is it that you see ellipsis abuse used almost exclusively for the purpose of ranting about politics by far right people over 40 years of age?

 I don't know if FOX news has some sort of weird subliminal messaging that makes people misuse punctuation but goddamn if it doesn't seem like 90% of the people I see do this are Gen X/ Baby Boomers typing their little fingers down to stumps, about liberal snowflakes beneath some Tomi Lahren video. Think about it. Have you ever seen this comment?

"The Large Hadron Collider is a marvel of science and technology.............. CERN is really pushing the boundaries of how we understand the universe around us.......who knows what we might learn........... from their research....Higgs Boson.....Amazing"

 I certainly haven't. It seems like it's exclusively some red-in-the-face white person telling libtards to go fuck themselves beneath an article about how they made it legal to shoot endangered baby seals in the mouth because it will somehow help oil corporations oppress Native Americans or something. Always. 

A comment calling someone disgusting because of the opinions they voice. The Irony was in fact missed completely by the author of this comment, who could not see it through all of the fucking dots

A comment calling someone disgusting because of the opinions they voice. The Irony was in fact missed completely by the author of this comment, who could not see it through all of the fucking dots

A Promising start towards disproving the theory that only far right wing-nuts are guilty of ellipsis abuse despite the use of a double negative. Hopes were dashed by sentence fragment number 3.

A Promising start towards disproving the theory that only far right wing-nuts are guilty of ellipsis abuse despite the use of a double negative. Hopes were dashed by sentence fragment number 3.

Also of note besides the RIDICULOUS use of ellipses is the equally NAUSEATING habit of ending all thoughts with a single rude adjective popularized by Donald Trump. A practice which assures readers you have so little confidence in their comprehension  skills that you have to label your statements with a one word tag to make sure they know which emotion they are supposed to feel about the subject.

Also of note besides the RIDICULOUS use of ellipses is the equally NAUSEATING habit of ending all thoughts with a single rude adjective popularized by Donald Trump. A practice which assures readers you have so little confidence in their comprehension  skills that you have to label your statements with a one word tag to make sure they know which emotion they are supposed to feel about the subject.

Whelp, that certainly is. . . something.

Whelp, that certainly is. . . something.

Hopefully we've all learned a little bit about how to use ellipses today and a whole lot about each other. Namely that there are a lot of us out there who are just the worst. Go forth now my children. Go forth and spread the gospel of being slightly less of a trash bag full of used bandaids. Do it for me.

Do it for us all........................................................................................ 

Google Maps Is Ruining My Life

Because of Google maps I keep having to have this conversation with people:

Me: We are going to drive up to [insert literally any place in the known universe that a person might drive to] this weekend for a family thing.

Other Person: Oh, that sounds like fun. What route do you usually take to get there? Do you go Hergleflergen road to route 324567890 and then take the turnpike over to. . . [insert the sound of blood rushing in my ears while all of space-time passes before me as the names of roads and directions are rattled off]

Me: . . .

Me: . . . . . . . . .

Me: . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Me: Yes?

Here is the thing. Because of GPS I don't know how to get anywhere, I don't know the names of any roads and I don't know where anything is in relation to anything else. The problem is I don't know how to politely get out of the conversation with people over the age of 50 I keep having to have where they want to talk about driving directions and I have to employ every trick of conversational ninjitsu known to man to make it seem like I am following along instead of thinking about how full body sized hand driers would save a lot of time after a shower.

It's not like I can just hold up a hand and be like "Lemme stop you right there Todd. I haven't learned what exit I get off at on any highway since  2006. I'm going to put the name or address of my destination into my phone and then play a game of follow the colored line for the next two hours until I get to where I wanted to be. You trying to discuss route information with me is about as useful as explaining the best way to cook a steak to a militant vegan. Neither of us are getting anything out of the exchange and the more you talk the more I hate you."

Even worse is if someone has to give me directions somewhere and they don't have an actual address or searchable business name but just insist they can explain it to me. News flash buddy; you can't. After the first one or two turns into the directions I've given up hope of actually reaching the intended destination in any amount of reasonable time. God forbid they toss a cardinal direction in there. Oh, just drive over to Chestnut lane and head east? We'll tell my wife I loved her and that it's ok to remarry because I'm going to fucking die in the wilderness trying to find the location of this christening.

If GPS navigation were to disappear forever while I was on a car trip out of state I've come to terms with the fact that I'd just have to start a new life in Kenton Delaware and hope everyone I've ever known or loved is happy without me back home.  I'm basically the personification of how technology has ruined my generation and made us all completely worthless as adult humans and I'm fine with that, but the anxiety of having to fake my way through conversations about directions might be giving me an ulcer. Either I have to wait it out until everyone born born before 1965 dies or I've got to figure out a strategy to get out of discussions about 'what the best way to get around the city at rush hour' is that doesn't involve actually learning where I'm going.

If anyone out there has any ideas please contact me. I am open to ideas involving smoke bombs and strategically hidden trapdoors.

 

Duckling Roundup Rodeo

Sometimes I spend a long time trying to think of how I am going to turn something into a post. I'll get hung up on if I want there to be some sort of message, or what angle I want to take on something, how to make it funny and a lot of time I just give up on an idea and tell myself "there's no post in this".

Other times I realize I have a bunch of pictures of baby ducklings and nobody gives a shit what I have to say if there are pictures of adorable peeps to look at, so I should just shut up.

With that in mind. Here are a bunch of pictures of ducklings for you to look at. Enjoy:

 
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We found these little guys outside our house when my wife spotted a couple of them sitting on the side of the road near our mailbox. It turns out their mother got hit by a car leaving them to wander around and get separated from one another.

By the time we found them they had gotten spread out so that some of them were on either side of the road, wandering around in the underbrush peeping little distress calls. Normally, the rule is that you don't go messing with baby animals since it's easy to cause more harm trying to help them. In this case, since we knew for sure they had been orphaned, we decided to try and catch as many of them as we could to bring them to a wildlife refuge since without their mother they would just get picked off by predators or die from starvation/exposure.

If you've never chased a week old duckling through a bunch of underbrush and leaf litter as he waddles his little butt of trying to get away from you, be thankful. It took us over an hour to chase down and catch these five assholes and get them all put in a plastic tub to take to the rescue. 

 
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We got them all packed in the car and took them to a Wildlife Refuge near us called Cedar Run. With our five ducklings: President Mallard Fillmore, Captain Quack Sparrow, Duck Dodgers, Duck Norris, and Jeff in tow we made the thirty minute drive to drop them off where they will be raised until they can be released back into the wild.

 
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Turns our our little ducks are wood ducks, which are a little more uncommon in our area and require some special care in order to raise them, but they should all grow up to be healthy duckkos with duck families of their own. 

My Patronus is a...

 
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Somebody sent me this quiz where you answer like, ten questions about what kind of ice cream you like, what picture of a beach most matches your personality and what character from Friends you think is the most dateable (Gunther, because he's eager to please and seems like he'd be a gentle lover) and it tells you what animal your patronus takes the shape of.

In case you are pop culture illiterate and don't know what a patronus is, it's more or less the Harry Potter metaphor for jerkin' it. It's basically where you close your eyes, squeeze your magic wand real hard and think happy thoughts till a milky white thing comes shooting out of the end.

You're welcome for the visual, internet.

Anyway. I took the quiz and got something like an Otter or a Fox or some other equally likable and/or adorable creature as my result. Just out of curiosity I took the quiz a bunch of times answering differently each time to see what kind of stuff you could get. Predictably, there was a small handful of different results based on your answers and they were all pretty much the kinds of animals you would expect; Stag, Wolf, Fox, Otter, Terrier, Doe, Eagle etc. etc.

Of course, it's an internet quiz designed to generate webpage clicks for ad revenue so they just threw a handful of animals people like or think are cool as possible results, job done. It got me thinking though; not everybody can possibly have a cool or interesting patronus, right? All I know is that there are 7 billion people on this planet and a finite number of cool, likable animals. I don't mean to burst anybody's bubble, but we're not all soaring eagles or majestic lions on the inside. 80% of us are like, a sea cucumber or something; most of us are getting screwed.

Sure, I'd love to take an internet quiz and be all like, "My patronus is a cool timber-wolf because I'm an aloof loner, but I'm also strong and loyal", but the realist in me is like, "Bitch, you a tubby beagle AT BEST and we both know it."

You know who is a guy I don't want to meet? The guy who has the worst patronus. Objectively he exists out there somewhere, right? Congratulations Greg, you got a Blobfish. Of all the people in the world, you're the one who's got a loogie with a face for a patronus. We all voted; you're officially the worst, now please leave because it's making us sad to look at you and if we're being honest, creeping us out a little.

Is there even a rule that says it has to be an animal? Can a patronus just be some random object? What if the thing that best represents my inner soul is like... a desk lamp? Or a half-eaten roast beef sandwich?

Maybe I ate a really delicious roast beef sandwich in 2004 and when I'm old and grey I'll cast my spell and that fucking sandwich appears and my wife will be next to me in our twin rocking chairs like, "Even after all this time?" and I'll be like "Always."

All I'm saying is the Harry Potter universe has not been clear on the intricacies of patronus forms. I think they've left room to speculate here and that could leave some of us in real trouble.

"No, Mrs. Stevenson, I swear I don't know why it looks like that." says the guy who's patronus takes the form of a dumpster full of prosthetic legs when the topic comes up at dinner with his significant other's parents.

Anyway. Here are some of my thoughts on real world Patronuses. Leave a comment on Facebook with your own ideas and maybe I'll draw some of the best ones.

 
Tensions run high in this relationship because Becca's Patronus is a beautiful hummingbird and Danny is stuck with this fat pigeon.

Tensions run high in this relationship because Becca's Patronus is a beautiful hummingbird and Danny is stuck with this fat pigeon.

 
 
It is common practice among sweet bros to double fist two wands at once so that they don't have to choose between their favorite things when casting the patronus charm.

It is common practice among sweet bros to double fist two wands at once so that they don't have to choose between their favorite things when casting the patronus charm.

 
 
any of those religious PROTESTERS who have ever held up a 'God Hates Fags' sign automatically get a patronus that is just like, 100 dicks slapping around on each other because the universe metes out its own ironic justice. People in the Klan get the same thing, except the dicks are black.

any of those religious PROTESTERS who have ever held up a 'God Hates Fags' sign automatically get a patronus that is just like, 100 dicks slapping around on each other because the universe metes out its own ironic justice. People in the Klan get the same thing, except the dicks are black.

 
 
I think my subconcious is probably telling me something...

I think my subconcious is probably telling me something...

 

Robot Dinosaurs and the Sassiest Stegosaurus

 
 

I recently attended a sort of class trip to the Franklin Institute with my wife and a bunch of her vet school classmates. There is currently a Jurassic World themed exhibit on display and this anatomy professor who also happens to be a paleontologist organized this extracurricular trip to go see it for any students who might be interested.

First of all, anatomy professor at an ivy league university and an actual paleontologist at the same time? Awesome.  It's like how Indiana Jones is an archaeologist but also a whip wielding, adventure having  badass with a PhD in being fucking rad on the side. This guy is all like "Yeah I teach anatomy at one of the top veterinary institutions in the world and by the way I've discovered and named six dinosaurs. No big deal."

Thankfully, spouses/partners of students who would literally punch a toddler for a chance to see a twenty foot tall animatronic T-rex were invited to attend as well if they wanted. This explains how I got there. No toddler punching was required.

The actual exhibit was not what either Emily or I expected, but it was still pretty goddamn awesome. Emily thought it was going to be a lot of fossils, bones and skeletons, while I was expecting more of a behind the scenes look at the technical stuff that went into making the movies. In actuality it's more of a walkthrough thing that they have set up to make it seem like you are a tourist visiting actual Jurassic World. You follow a little narrative as if you are a VIP guest arriving on the island and visiting different exhibits all the way up until the finale where the giant murder dinosaur gets loose, surprising no one.

While I would have liked to learn more about what actually goes into the creation of the practical and digital effects from the various Jurassic Park Movies, I'm sure as shit not going to complain about a ceiling high fully articulated brachiosaurus head.

 
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I got this idea that it was really funny to take a bunch of selfies where my head is blocking most of the dinosaur, or it's out of focus or something.  It's like there is this enormous, lifelike hybrid marvel of engineering, science and art behind you and you just take a picture where your dumb head is blocking most of it.

 
 
 
 

Even Emily got in on this one. I kept taking all these crap selfies, until at one point one of her friends asked if we'd like her to take our picture, because she's a normal, polite person. She was all, "Oh, do you guys want me to take your picture in front of the dinosaur for you?" and I was like "Nah." She looked at me like I was kind of a crazy person so I elaborated that I was 'doing a thing' and that 'the pictures being bad is the point'. For some reason my clarification did not help.

In any event I did take at least a few pictures that weren't bad on purpose.

 
 

Emily wanted a picture of this baby dino here. This little guy and his mother who's giant legs you can see behind him are one of about 3524894734258 relatives of Triceratopsthat nobody give a shit about apparently because they don't have sick horns and aren't one of the four dinosaurs anyone knows the name of. It's a little sad, really that there are all these dinos floundering in obscurity while that limelight hogging hussy Triceratops takes all the glory. 

It's ok little guy, we know the feeling. We have the same problem with Jason Momoa

 
 

He's such a glorious piece of chiseled man-god that nobody gives a shit about most of us in comparison either.

Anyway, this guy was part of the exhibit too who I'm pretty sure is supposed to be the dinosaur they made up to be the uberdino that murders faces in the newest movie

 
 

Actually, now that I think about it, I don't think this guy is a he. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be a she because all the dinosaurs in the movie were female?... Or did it become a weird hermaphrodite... I don't know. To be honest a lot of the plot stuff they made up about the badguy dinosaur in Jurassic World was pretty shitty.

In any event, there was this whole sequence involving Murdersaurus Rex near the end of the tour, complete with machine gun sound effects and a bazooka where unseen park security presumably shoot it to death horribly in front everyone. Kind of a weird choice in my opinion seeing as it's an exhibit filled with small children but whatever I guess. If the kids don't learn about firing rocket launchers at rampaging dinosaurs now, how will they be prepared when they have to defend themselves against a real velociraptor attack?  

After the giant animations portion they had a bunch more kid friendly/ traditional museum-y displays. Naturally while all the graduate students who came as part of the class trip perused the informational plaques and chatted one on one or in small groups with the professor, I played with a bunch of shit like a child.

I made a 3-D dinosaur of my own creation at a station which let you email it to yourself when you finished. Here he is in all his glory:

 
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Look at that sassy motherfucker. Just struttin' around with his pink ass. God he is so sassy. That has got to be the sassiest stegosaurus ever to fake-walk the digital imaginary landscape of the pretend earth. 

Look at him

 
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JUST LOOK

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SO. SASSY.

That beautiful sassy son of a bitch aside, the last room before you left the exhibit had a bunch of touch exhibits including a station with paper and crayons were kids could make rubbings of some little dinosaur etched slabs they had.

By kids, of course I mean me.

 
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Not only did I make a dino-crayon rubbing at a station where I had to bend double to reach the table because it was sized appropriately for a 7 year old; I goddamn waited in line to do it. I also silently judged the creations of people ahead of me in the process. A yellow t-rex kid? Really? Take that amateur hour shit and get out of here.

 Mine of course is a masterpiece. You see that sweet illusion of perspective you get from that majestic ass foreground dino against the majestic mountain range in the back? It's truly majestic. Everything about this is Majestic. It's literally just shitting majesty all over your eyes right now.

Sassosaurus in my email inbox and crayon rubbing in hand we exited the Jurrassic World exhibit having learned basically fuckall about dinosaurs from the exhibit itself, a bunch of cool stuff from Indiana Professor the anatomy teacher, and having thoroughly enjoyed robot dino fun time.

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Trump's America: Blizzard to Remove All Support Heroes from Overwatch

 
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In a press release earlier today Blizzard announced that following the inauguration of Donald Trump as president of the United States of America, the Overwatch Dev team will be forced to remove all support heroes from the game within the month.

"Unfortunately heroes such as Mercy, Zenyatta, Lucio and Ana, though wildly popular and a critical part of overall game balance, can no longer be allowed as playable characters in Overwatch," said a representative "as this is now Trump's America, which means nobody gets health care."

In addition to the removal of support classes, it seems heroes with abilities that provide healing to teammates (such as Soldier 76's 'biotic field') will also have those features removed. Abilities like Roadhog's 'take a breather' and Bastion's 'repair' will be remain in game, however.

"In accordance with the new administration's policies, being able to get healing for yourself is fine," the representative elaborated "but the idea that others might also require life saving health care is out of the question."

When asked to comment on the upcoming changes, Tank hero Reinhardt responded "I guess I'll just die." 


Future updates are rumored to include the removal of recent addition Sombra for being "a little bit too brown" as well as all maps being replaced with the map Volskaya.

Also Winston will be removed. You know why.

 

 

The Sock Revolution

 
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It's a sock revolution up in here y'all.

My life feels like it's become a series of annoyances revolving around what should be the simple act of finding two pieces of cloth in which to swaddle my feeties before I stick them into a shoe that a.) match and b.) don't have holes in them so big I could pretty much just pull them up and wear them like a garter belt if I wanted.

I'm taking back control of my life. I'm throwing out every single sock I own and starting over.

Why such a harsh and some might say, completely idiotic, response to a problem?

I'll tell you.

I swear to a talking avocado deity that every time I do laundry I end up in some sort of existential crisis about whether or not I live in an alternate universe where socks share the exact same properties as electrons, thus governed by the Heisenberg uncertainty principle can only be represented as an indistinct cloud rather than individual units as it's only possible to know how fast they are moving or where they are, but not both at the same time.

The fact that I can possibly have so many socks come out of the wash without a match is truly a mystery to which I have no answer. How is it that when I go to fold laundry only a third of the socks have a match and I don't even have the right amount to pair them all up? I'm pretty sure I didn't wear an odd number of socks this week. It's not like I got up in the morning to get dressed at any point and was like "Fuck it, today is one boot and one flip flop day at work". The socks coming out of the laundry should all have a match and there should be an even number of them, but for some reason which eludes all plausible explanation, this is not ever the case.

Not to mention half my socks seem to be generating spontaneous holes each week. What the butts is happening in my dryer that my socks come out missing the entire toe? Did I turn the knob one past permanent press and accidentally activate 'tumble with a fuck bunch of scissors' mode?

And you know what? I'd even take the socks without matches and the holes if it weren't for stranger socks.

On numerous occasions I've come across socks that I am absolutely, without a doubt, one hundred percent positive do not belong to me. Men's socks, women's socks, specialty socks designed for someone with a weird condition where they have hooves for feet, who knows what's coming out of there when I do laundry?

I swear to you on pain of death that I've pulled a children's sock from my laundry before. There are no children that live in my house. There are no children that visit my house. How the actual hell did I end up with a single green and white child size sock in my laundry? Is there somebody out there going around slipping children's socks into people's pocket at the grocery store so they come out in the wash and make them so angry they want to throw a  carpet-bag full of bricks down a flight of stairs?

Listen, universe with your weird sock based form of practical jokes. I have enough problems without having four new unmatched socks that are now in my life forever whenever I do laundry. I'm sick of it.

Of course my tactic of 'get fed up every four to six months and go buy more socks' only makes things worse. It helps in the short term, sure, but inevitably the new socks just end up getting sucked into the hell vortex that apparently is my laundry routine, simply adding to it's power. 

It's gotten to the point where I've decided to take a page out of old testament God's playbook. It's a page I like to call 'Fuck everything and start over'. Since I don't have the ability to purge the planet with a flood or drop an enormous goddamn rock from orbit on my laundry room, I've settled for a less flashy form of smiting. I went through my entire house and gathered up every sock I own, matched or unmatched and put them in one spot. This is what I came up with:

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Now I'm not sure what a normal amount of socks for a single person to own is but I'm fairly certain this counts as too-goddamn-many. I have two feet, enough socks to wear a different pair every day for  over a month and somehow still cant ever find two that match at the same time. Do you see now how dealing with this shit on a constant basis is ruining my life? That laundry basket is full. FULL. A basket that is supposed to have the capacity to hold enough clothing for at least a week (or in my case four weeks until I run out of pants I can no longer pass off as clean enough and have to do wash) is filled just with socks. 

NO MORE.

I went on amazon and purchased ten pairs of high quality wool socks. They came in today, ten pairs, twenty socks, all the same, all new.

Also apparently made in the USA, which I never noticed before, but explains why they were about twice the price of what a pair of socks should cost. 'Murica.

In an event. These ten pairs of socks are henceforth my only form of foot underwear. I will wear these, and only these ten pairs of socks in a rotation, until they wear out from age, I die, or the inevitable heat death of the universe arrives.

I feel like a man reborn.

Oh, and as for my old socks? I threw those fucks in the trash.