@officiallordvetinari / officiallordvetinari.tumblr.com
well, what i was getting at was really more like you should get out of the house more, socialize, meet people, these are all proven ways to deal with depression, try to distract yourself with fun activities, i get this is what you work as but there is a difference between performing and watching someone else perform, my point is, surely there are other clowns in town mr pagliacci
whatever 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
I did my PhD in a fish lab, and one time I was emailing a fish company, and the guy emailed me back with the signature “Best fishes,” followed by these guys
yesterday I had the thought "visual novel for normal people" (?) and halfway through making this image (which I thought would be really funny) I realized it was completely meaningless
real C&L pros know you gotta take as many ladders as you can while also avoiding the chutes
intrigued by the sheer number of spells in the PGM dedicated to causing whatever the hell "evil sleep" is
NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE
Hello! Horsie question: if horses had six or eight legs, what words would horse people use to describe them? I imagine fore and hind, near and far would still get used -- what about the middle legs? Mid? What if there's two sets of middle legs? Foremid? Midhind? Hindmid???? what's the combo I'm missing. Midfore? (Is that just a mediocre golf swing?) I'm sure there's other words that I'm not thinking of. What do you think?
Hahahha that's good fun! Thank you!
We'll handwave the evolution here, and presume a world in which everything else is exactly the same, but horses have eight legs. Because they are traditionally animals of high utility that English is desperately in love with, their anatomy is specifically detailed in delightful words, many of Old English origin. I think limb pairs would have their own words, because people would want to specify them. (The reason that spider leg pairs are merely numbered in English is because we don't pay them as much attention.)
(Horses with multiple legs wouldn't "work" as we know them, but I said "everything is the same" and that includes our fascination with them. Again, handwave the gait mechanics.)
I reckon for English, for sequential paired limbs, I'd keep it in a rough messy Old English configuration to match "fore" and "hind." "Mid" is a good instinct on your part and is the correct choice for things between fore and hind. Despite it suggesting "waist," I feel it would be natural to have "mid" be the second pairing of limbs. (This is probably an internal bias because of sails, which isn’t very Old English of me, but we’ll excuse it because it’s also reasonably natural for English speakers to think about things from the top down, and to prioritise “hands” over feet.)
I like "gird," as in "girdle," for a third pairing. This is short, matchy, meets the cadence of the fellows we plan to use it with, sounds quite different (like the NATO alphabet, they need to be hard to mix up), and ends with a consonant. The words are all roughly the same age. I think it would work for a natural, usable word.
Limping on the left side leg in the third leg pair, - "lame in the near gird."
I think that post-Age-of-Sail, horse limb pairings would probably pick up some sailing terms, and the Italian-derived "mizzen" should drift in for the third leg pair, coming after the mids. It's no crazier than the genuine English horse anatomy name of "gaskin," and would provide charm and irritation - two qualities that ring true.
Of course, the horse above would have more limited mobility and utility. We could also try arranging leg pairs on the horizontal axis, although for utility I think they'd be held off the ground. In which case English would abruptly call them a new thing.
I suggest "thumb" for forelimbs that don't normally touch the ground, and "spur" for the hindlimbs.
Mind you, these horses probably won't have the limb mechanics or mobility to fill the niche they serve in our world, so this is just for fun.
What do you think?
...my brain is now throwing together fragments of All Creatures Great And Small meets Norse mythology, and James Herriot trying to do veterinary things to Sleipnir...
I struggled under the weight of the carthorse’s thumb, which he rested on my shoulder in a friendly fashion, enjoying the sensation of support. As I was examining his forehoof, and the big draught-bred animal must have weighed a hundred and fifty stone, this was no small matter.
The animal pulled me close to his chest with his thumb, in order to drape his massive head along my back. It was impossible to pare in this position. Gripping his forehoof with my knees, I stuck the hoof knife in my teeth - regretting that vets were among the majority of God’s creatures, and only had four limbs - and tried using both hands to disentangle myself, shoving futilely at the great arm-like weight of the thumb.
“Gi’ ower, Blossom,” his owner said gruffly. “Sorry, Mr. Herriot. Thinks he’s a lapdog.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Greendale,” I forced out, “could you please hold his head.”
“Gi’ ower,” the old man said again, and the horse - possibly responding to this, or possibly just shifting his weight - released me, lifting his head and dropping his thumb. Gasping in relief, I straightened my shoulders and dove back to the forehoof. This was a tremendously rewarding process, when the pared horn suddenly gave way to a burst of trapped pus, affording instant relief to animal and vet.
The angle was poor, the stables dingy - I decided to change position. The horse decided the same thing, and snagged me again - this time with both of his thumbs. He set the near thumb down to support himself in order to pull me in close to his chest, where exploratory lips started to mumble thoughtfully at my hair.
“Ah, he’s a big old softie, really,” Mr. Greendale said, seemingly unimpressed.
At this point Tristan Farnon burst in, babbling. Eyes wild, tie undone, he was a picture of urgency. Still, he checked on the threshold. “James, what on earth are you doing with that horse? Or is that horse doing to you?”
“He’s favourin’ Mr. Herriot,” the old man said, and broke into a most remarkably cracked cackle.
“So does fortune,” Tristan gasped. “James! Siegfried’s lost his wallet!”
“That’s absolutely marvellous, Tris,” I said, despite the sensation of being crushed by a friendly Alsatian the weight of my own motorcar. “Help.”
“Oh, don’t be so bloody Scottish and uptight,” Tristan said, and thumped the horse on the off spur. Blossom dropped me as if trained. “You’ll never get on in practice if you can’t manage horse thumbs. We’ve twenty minutes to replace his wallet with the duplicate, or it’ll be curtains for both of us.”
On the one hand, Tristan’s indiscretions were his own business. On the second, Siegfried’s temper affected us all. On the third hand -
I looked at Tristan, dressed in white tie and cummerbund.
I handed him the hoof knife.
this is ridiculously funny
thank you yes, I did need this today
does anyone have the screenshot of the comment on the youtube video of molten iron slag being poured where it's a guy describing his experience witnessing the same thing written in the most beautiful prose imaginable
@f2tal @barabones with your key addition of 'seagulls,' i was able to find it!
"2026 is the new 2016" if you mean it then start dressing as clowns and terrorizing people on the streets again. I'm so serious.
Why so serious?
letd go eat parts of that guys car
new mychart message! aw damn....doc says my reality and existence lab work was wayyy off so she's referring me to an Ontologist
In the real seinfeld finale it was revealed that everything happened was all a coma dream and george actually is a human king overseeing a kingdom of elves
"Your Highness! Your Highness, we thought we'd never be able to rouse you from your slumber!"
"Oh Cosmo I've had the strangest visions"
it’s interesting to see the role of the workplace in the sexual imaginary. in the realm of the Libidinal, that tapestry of our sexual fantasies, the economy is in shambles because all the free-use office sluts and service workers are never getting anything done, never producing in accordance to the discipline of the clock, the flows of commerce constantly disrupted by the flows of unfettered desire. what better sign of our times than our most fantastical aspiration being to get literally fucked at work, to make work’s obligations into a form of pleasure despite remaining an object of utility, and abandoning capital’s drive even as we recreate and eroticize its symbols and structures. anything other than the metaphorical joyless fucking we experience every day in civil society. imagine me puffing on a corncob pipe while I say this.
Saw “free-use office sluts” and got so horny I can’t see straight so idk what the rest of this post says
my favorite prefix in german is "er-", meaning "to death" <3
trinken -> to drink | ertrinken -> to drown
schießen -> to shoot | erschießen -> to shoot to death
würgen -> to choke | erwürgen -> to choke someone to death
stechen -> to sting | erstechen -> to stab to death
etc etc :]
*stechen -> to stab (as well, not just sting)
schlagen -> to hit | erschlagen -> slay (also: overwhelm)
drücken -> to press | erdrücken -> to crush
etc.
Completive transitive "er-" my beloved! It has a less productive counterpart in non-lethal transitive "an-".
anschießen -> to shoot non-fatally
anfahren -> to hit (but not run over) with a vehicle
hängen -> to hang | erhängen -> to hang until dead
frieren -> to feel cold, to freeze | erfrieren -> to freeze to death
zählen -> to count | erzählen -> to count until dead
klimmen -> to climb | erklimmen -> to climb until dead
warten -> to wait | erwarten -> to wait until dead
fahren -> to drive | erfahren -> to drive someone dead
finden -> to find | erfinden -> what I just did here
