Surely I can't be the only person whose first reaction to seeing a company is named "Hugging Face" is to wonder if they sell Alien xenomorphs bloodily bursting out of human abdominal cavities as a service?
Hmmm... “xenomorphs bloodily bursting out of human abdominal cavities as a service?“
Gotta be a market for it, worse things have made men 11billionaires.
And what if - walk with me here - WHAT IF... A cabal of scaly aliens with sinister dentition and indelicate digestion are just trying to raise capital to support their traditional way of life?
It is, in the truest sense of the word, a humanitarian investment opportunity.
I am deeply regretting that for my political satire series I went with a head of government who is merely a faceless Lovecraftian Elder God with a skull-collecting hobby.
He seems kind of understated these days.
Should have picked a cross between the South Dakota Puppy Shooter and Liz Truss instead ...
If you are right, you raise a most disturbing possibility.
Could it be, that some cultist or christian fundamentalist has delved beneath the deep foundations of the House of Lords, and removed a dark foundation stone with an inscription in Old Enochian:
Are you aware that such a creature actually exists, the 'heads' being demented cultists who believe themselves to be spiritual successors to psychopathic former politicians?
I can find no better explanation for The Daily Mail and BBC News & Current Affairs.
I hear, from recent news reports, that the head of the Right Honourable Lady, Liz Truss, was conveyed in an elaborately-decorated jar of formalin to Mar-a-Largo, to burble praises at the once-and-future President of the United States.
I am sure this was intended as a gift, and
no sinister motive can or should ever be inferred.
In all probability, she is the first known case of a shoggoth rejectecting organ transplants, and the Cabinet Office couldn't think what to do with her.
Might I add a little detail to this moral and political cesspit, this septic isle, this Anglo-Saxon Trotterdämmerung?
The officer presiding over the blasphemous midden, far beneath His Dread Majesty, is a decomposing walrus, the Lord Privy Seal.
His Lordship and his charges (or discharges) are neither governing nor holding authority to account: they are, with elaborate ceremonies in archaic Anglo-Norman pig-Latin, merely going through the motions.
Rocket propellants are often fun. This one is designed to fuck things up on a magnitude that's up there with Project PLUTO, by using elemental fluorine reacting with liquid lithium heated by cesium-137.
For when you absolutely positively have to fuck literally everything that so much as looks at your exhaust funny.
There's always the hope that someone will try putting out a Caesium fire with water: although it might be less energetic than firefighters' foam spontaneously igniting on contact with fluorine.
The glaring omission is that they didn't try FOOF, the super-duper oxidant available to any cheerful and insouciant chemist who relishes the vigorous oxidation of Oxygen by Fluorine, and knows it's someone else's problem to store the stuff.
Practical rocket scientists will be delighted to discover that FOOF is used in the Nuclear industry, and is therefore available in bulk quantities to the discerning gentlemen of aerospace engineering.
I wonder if used FOOF is available at a discount, and I would be delighted to read any commercial correspondence on the matter.
Even, or especially, if it is unflattering to those involved.
A rough 'eyeball' examination shows that the disability rate rose at 20% per yearuntil mass vaccination, then 10% a year for the following three years.
As far as I can tell without more data - and a more rigorous analysis than eyeballing it - the 10% year-on-year increase is still happening.
With current rates of infection, there is no reason to believe that this will level-off next year, nor the year after.
A heathcare and economic disaster is already baked-in to the numbers.
(My office Aeron with lumbar support, and memory foam mattress in the bedroom, had fooled me into thinking I was getting better faster than I actually am. Five minutes in a waiting room chair corrected this misapprehension ...)
I would blame it all on the ancestral error of descending from the trees; others here go further, and insist that emerging from the sea and attempting to exist on land was an appalling mistake which should be reversed without delay.
Others, with lower intellectual aspirations, did not descend from the trees: they fell out and we refer to them as Conservatives. They work unceasingly to ensure that their return to the long-unclimbable trees will be assisted by the rising seas.