At the dinner table, my sister asked all of us what color we thought her boyfriend’s shirt looked like. After we all said gray, she turned to him and said “now tell them what color you think it is” and he just quietly replied “dark white”
for the love of god please watch the video i am in stiches
I was confused but the key element here is that they’re electric scooters, so they’re more or less completely silent. That can be a danger in traffic (especially for cyclists) so they need to make a kind of sound. And why have it make boring engine sounds when you can make it say MMMmmmmm PIZZA!
Anyway so I’m calling Rep. Farenthold later to accept on Sen. Collin’s behalf and I’m choosing Fists. Can take place in Iowa because if two parties agree to mutual combat, under state law it is totally legal here.
And if he accepts yes I will stream that shit live don’t be silly.
And after I beat his ass once for Collins, I will duel him again on Murkowski’s behalf.
Square up, bitch.
OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH GOD CSPAN BOUT TO BE LIT
Submitted
SO I CALLED HIS DC OFFICE AND SAID BASICALLY THE SAME THING I SENT VIA EMAIL.
After about 20 seconds of dead silence, the staffer let out kinda a little laugh and said “Well ma’m, I’ll be happy to pass on your…”
“I’m not joking.”
“Ma’m?”
“You think I’m joking. I am dead serious. You want my address? Or I’ll meet him at the airport. I am absolutely serious about this. Oh, and as the challenged party, I get to pick weapons. I choose fists.”
Another 20 seconds of somehow even deeper silence.
“I…I’ll pass your challenge on to the congressman.”
“No. He issued the challenge. I’m accepting. Unless he’s backing out like the spineless coward he is.”
More silence. “I…I’ll let Congressman Farenthold know, ma’m.”
“You do that.”
ANYWAY SO HOW DID YOU ALL SPEND YOUR LUNCH BREAK TODAY.
You are my hero
I’m in south Houston and I’ll be your tap in.
HOUSTON!!!! I WILL FIGHT TOO
I’m in Los Angeles and I will be there with a bat. Just in case.
sign me up too. I swing a decent hammer, and I have an entire laundry list of unresolved anger issues.
Did anyone share this with the news outlets yet? Because I think more people need to know about this.
– almost always grumpy – bad at showing affection but cares about their friends a lot – “what did you say?”, “Sorry i didn’t hear that, can you repeat it?” – often reminisces about their youth (even though they’re probably only in their twenties. Alternatively: “kids these days…”) – too old for this shit (see above) – totally not down with the youth – bad back (and everything else hurts too) – likes to complain
this doesn’t fit my blog at all but i had to post it here because this story is legit the wildest thing i’ve seen this month and everyone needs to see it. unmute this I PROMISE YOU WON’T REGRET IT
“HELLO NEIGHBOR STEVE, I WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO BARBEQUE ON THE EVE OF THE BLOOD MOON. I FEEL WE GOT OFF TO A BAD START.”
“NEIGHBOR STEVE, DO YOU NOT WISH TO PARTAKE OF THE UNCLEAN FLESH-MEATS OF PIGS AND THE POLLUTED ESSENCES OF TOMATO? PERHAPS YOU ARE A CAROLINA STYLE MAN, NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
“PUT THE GUN AWAY NEIGHBOR STEVE, YOU KNOW I SHALL ONLY RISE AGAIN WITH THE DAWNING OF THE MOON. WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH THIS MANY TIMES.”
“LOOK AT THIS PICTURE MY SON DREW OF YOU AND CHILD TIMMY, YOUR SON. ARE THEY NOT THE PICTURE OF PACT-MATES? THIS COULD BE YOU AND ME, NEIGHBOR STEVE.”
“YOU MISSED THE UNHOLY NEXUS OF POWER THAT IS THE KEY TO MY CORPOREAL FORM, NEIGHBOR STEVE. YOU WILL NEED TO RELOAD NOW, SO I WILL GO INSIDE TO MY HELL-WIFE AND PUT YOU DOWN AS A SOLID ‘MAYBE’.“
I have the feeling that the families get along great except for Steve. Like, the wives are baking (questionable) brownies together, the kids are playing together, Antler Guy occasionally takes Son and Timmy to school (no car, just carries them in huge swinging strides through a nexus of ungoldly sights in a swirling netherworld shortcut. Sometimes they stop for McDonalds). Hell-wife gave them a potted Audrey Jr., Steve’s wife (who I now christen Sharon) gave them a begonia.
One time Steve tries throwing holy water but all Antler Guy does is thank him, saying that no, Antler Guy isn’t Catholic but it’s the thought that counts, he is so kind to water his creeping deathshade vines regardless.
For Christmas Antler Guy gives Steve a case of ammunition. To be funny/sarcastically mean Steve gets Antler Guy the world’s most hideous Christmas sweater, singing light-up reindeer included. He immediately regrets it because not only does Antler Guy love it and wears it for several months, it will never need batteries because Antler Guy powers it with his own eldritch aura.
When they come back from a holiday to Hawaii, Steve is horrified to find out Sharon bought them matching Hawaiian shirts. He is even more horrified that his wife means it that if he doesn’t wear it he will forever sleep on the couch.
I want to expand on this, since I see it’s still passing around and the ideas have grown in my brainmeats.
What drives Steve up the wall and down the other side is how… normal… everyone treats the Abominations. (Yes, that is their last name. No, it is not a joke. Son was asked his last name for the standardized testing at school, had a quick conference with Timmy, and decided that Son Abomination sounded good, “Since my dad calls your dad the Abomination anyway and we can paint it on your mailbox just like the Henderson’s did theirs!”. Antler Guy agreed and did a lovely rendition of it for the mailbox, with only a few glyphs of soul-rending terror added to keep up to snuff.)
The Great Plant Exchange went beautifully, though the Audrey Jr. (named Aubergine for the lovely shade of purple poison that drips from her fangs) is on a diet at the moment. She was in cahoots with the cat and the dog to get into the good people food and ate two frozen turkeys all herself. Now she’s restricted to the hallway table to answer the phone and the door. (Steve actually likes her, and keeps slipping her hotdogs when Sharon isn’t looking. Their door-to-door salesman rates have dropped dramatically since she changed abodes.) Hell-wife has almost gotten the begonia to bloom and say it’s first words.
The homeowner’s association just loves the Abominations. All paperwork stamped and dotted, in on time and in triplicate. Antler Guy likes filing, says it reminds him of his old job. There is a resident who spent 20 years as a lawyer and they have long, animated conversations about all sorts of things that make Steve swear to never need legal counsel.
Hell-wife joined the PTA and spearheaded a committee to fundraise in the fall with a haunted house. It was a county-wide hit, though the claims that a particularly rowdy group had been deliberately lost in a timeslip to the Outer Doors Of Chaos was firmly rebuffed. Most young people nowadays, it was agreed, just couldn’t appreciate flute music.
Antler Guy really does try to connect with Steve. The surprise birthday party was perhaps a bit much, given that most participants do not have the ability to suddenly materialize in front of the guest of honor to give them a hug. Sharon assured them that Steve normally screams on his birthday, and the remains of the cake were heartily enjoyed by all. (A plate was saved for Steve once he came down from the treehouse.)
After the Hawaii trip (which was a present for his birthday) and the Matching Shirt Ultimatum (which was Sharon’s attempt at patching things up with Antler Guy, he really was sad about the birthday screaming), Steve finally grabs his courage in both hands (plus the shotgun, which let’s face it is about as useful as a teddybear at the moment but it does comfort him) and confronts Antler Guy, about why such a group of……Abominations could possibly come to his quiet slice of suburban bliss.
“……BUT NEIGHBOR STEVE, WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.”
“No no no, I read it in a book! Don’t you have to be invited or something?!”
“WELL YES, TO THE HUMAN WORLD. BUT THIS IS NOT THE HUMAN WORLD AS YOUR THREE-DIMENSIONAL BRAIN PERCEIVES IT.”
“What the hell does that mean?!!”
“DID YOU NOT KNOW, NEIGHBOR STEVE? LEGALLY SPEAKING, ALL OF THE VASTNESS OF HUMAN SUBURBIA IS, IN FACT, A PART OF HELL.”
“……..”
“THE FLAMINGOES ARE THE BOUNDARY MARKERS. IT WAS DECIDED THAT THE FLAMING SKULLS WERE TOO KITSCHY FOR MODERN TIMES.”
Reblogging cause I kind of want more of this….
Since you asked nicely ^_^
Antler Guy, as one may have noticed, is a calm sort of fellow. In the face of human atrocities he displays a curious Zen sort of state of mind. Timmy asks Son if he’d ever seen his dad angry, and Son hasn’t. (When asked, Timmy says that yeah his dad gets mad, but it’s like the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua down the street- mostly high-pitched noise and occasionally TV remote chewing. Sharon replaces the poor thing every 3 months or so.) When pressed (gently, at the monthly book club, and with many cups of tea and at least one daiquiri), Hellwife admits that this comes from serving many years at his old job.
After the revelation of the nature of his neighborhood, Steve has not been overtly mean to Antler Guy. Not yet in the realm of friends, but vastly better than before. No more holy water, no more shotgun blasts. (Still the occasional jumpscare, but Antler Guy really can’t help that part.) They even occasionally share news over the fence as Antler Guy trains the creeping deathshade vines in proper oral hygiene, and Steve waters his lawn (and occasionally slips a goldfish cracker to a deathshade vine that looks particularly adorable. Aubergine has trained him well.)
Which is how Antler Guy learns about the peeping tom that’s been plaguing the adjacent streets. Apparently the pervert has been getting bolder, and rattling doors. He almost broke into one apartment, whose occupants were a single mother and her daughter, Mildred. Millie, a shy girl who is a great horror fan and firm friends with Timmy and Son, had missed school because of it.
Steve knew because Sharon had told him, on her way to deliver a tuna casserole and a double batch of brownies to the pair. (Sharon has been dubbed the unoffical mob boss of the Mother’s Mafia. She is quite pleased with this title.) He tells her to wait, confers briefly with Aubergine, and sends her along with, “Only as a loan, you know, but Auby wants to stretch her roots and she’d probably like getting all ribboned and curled anyway. Little girls still do that, right?” She has strict orders to bite anyone that makes Millie or her mother cry. (Steve is dubbed the official neighborhood marshmallow for this. The bookclub buys him a jar of marshmallow fluff in commemoration.)
He turns to look at Antler Guy, and freezes, much as a chihuahua will when faced with a hungry hellhound.
Steven makes a very ungraceful exit when space starts bending around Antler Guy’s still, unmoving form.
When Steve sees a shadowy form in his back yard when he gets up to pee that night, there’s no hesitation. He grabs the shotgun from the cabinet and peeks out the back door window.
Just in time to see a nebulous form of soul-wrenching terror engulf the man reaching for the door handle. A sliver of moonlight reveals a very familiar eyesocket. After a moment (and a sincere prayer of thanks that he had already peed, cause otherwise he’d have done it then and there) Steve opens the door. The nebulous form freezes, reality bending around the edges.
“Good. G’night then. Oh, and if Hellwife has an extra Audrey Jr. that needs a home, let me know. Millie likes Aubergine a lot but Augy’s just too big for the apartment. Dunno if they come in miniatures though.”
There are no more peeping reports. Millie brings back Aubergine and spends an entire afternoon teaching Steve the particulars of Augy’s new “hairstyle” (a gravity-defying mass of teased tendrils, ribbons, and barrettes) in between games of tag and hide-and-seek with Timmy and Son.
When Antler Guy and Hellwife present her and her mother Beatrice with a tiny Audrey Jr. (”pOOr ThinG Is a ruNT And wOn’T geT MorE Than A FooT taLL, BEa, aNd NeeDS a New FRiEnD”, assures Hellwife), both mother and child burst out crying. Millie names it Bella, after Bella Lugosi, and shows it to the excited group of boys (Steve and Augy included).
IT GOT SO MUCH BETTER!!!!
Life in a subdivision partly populated with eldritch and possibly magical (officially classified as “extra-dimensional”, for even when faced with the physics-defying nature of their new co-habitating citizens the government cannot bring itself to acknowledge them as “magic wielding hell-beasts”, as some high-ranking staff members initially suggested) goes on fairly normally.
Sure, there are a few hiccoughs. The creeping deathshade vines get a stern talking to about appropriate afternoon snacks (”NOT the Fitz-Simmon’s chihuahua, I don’t care how much he has it coming or what he excreted where, now spit it out!”), Aubergine sheds all her leaves at once and snowballs the house (but does helps sweep up afterwards), and moonrise is a good time to watch the night-gaunts fly by (but on moondark it’s best to stay inside, no matter how prettily they glow. They’re somewhat similar to fireflies, and don’t always check to see if their partner glows as well. It wouldn’t be as much of a problem if they didn’t dive mid-coitus and drop just above the ground.)
While the neighborhood in general is accepting of the Abominations, when things get to be a bit much they tend to come to Steve. Since meeting Beatrice and Millie (and the formation of the Terrifying Triad known as Millie, Son, and Timmy) Steve is the adult human male most comfortable dealing with Antler Guy on the whole street. (Sharon as U.M.B. is widely held to have, well, steel-whatever-the-hell-she-wants, and Timmy is known to run over to Antler Guy and ask for rides through “that wobbly grey place, you know, the one with the REALLY BIG alligators?”. Still, the courtesies must be observed.)
So when a writhing sparking ball of snarling terror and teeth takes up residence in the Manzo’s tool-shed, and when Animal Control refuses to come (the street is banned due to a run-in with the deathshade vines), Steve is called. Having heard the description, Steve brings Antler Guy.
When they get there, Mr. Manzo is forcibly holding the door shut. Unholy yowling is coming from inside. At a gesture from Antler Guy, Mr. Manzo leaps away, and the doors blast open.
A 150 pound ball of whimpering, flaming something hits Steve and knocks him on his ass. The whimpering, flaming something proceeds to slobber all over Steve, his shirt, his pants, and a decent portion of grass in between distressed yelps.
“GACK!”
“NEIGHBOR STEVE, ARE YOU IN DISTRESS?”
“GAAACKLEARGHSPLUH- DOWN boy, HEEL, that’s a good- Antler Guy, what is this?!”
“I BELIEVE IT IS A HELLHOUND, NEIGHBOR STEVE.”
“Good grief, I didn’t know they came this big and…..and….. Guy?”
“YES NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
“Is he supposed to be…..skinless?”
“YES NEIGHBOR STEVE. THIS VARIETY WAS BRED TO BE LAP DOGS. THEIR FLAME IS MOSTLY WITHOUT HEAT, AND THEY HAVE NO SKIN FOR THOSE WHO ARE ALLERGIC.”
“…….laPDOG?!”
“YES NEIGHBOR STEVE.” Antler Guy lays a hand on the hellhound, who tries to burrow further into Steve with little success. “HE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN RECENTLY WEANED. IT WILL TAKE TIME FOR HIM TO GROW TO HIS FULL SIZE.”
“……”
“THE SMALL BREEDS GROW MORE SLOWLY.”
A vile hissing emanates from the shed. (Mr. Manzo has long since fled for the safety of his kitchen.) As Steve attempts to calm the frantic hell-puppy, Antler Guy investigates. He reaches one long hand in behind the riding lawnmower and….. winces.
“NEIGHBOR STEVE?”
“Yeah- I’m right here, uh, doggie, not going anywhere- Guy?”
“I APPEAR TO HAVE AN…. ATTACHMENT.”
Steve is awed at the tiny ball of white fluff attached to one long, thin finger. He didn’t know that Antler Guy’s fingers COULD be bitten, much less by a tiny kitten.
Which is how Steve and Sharon got Clifford (”Aww c’mon Sharon, how could I pass that one up?”), and Antler Guy and Hellwife get Fluffy (”NEIGHBOR STEVE ASSURES ME IT IS A TRADITIONAL TITLE.”)
This might be the most amazing thing that ever crossed my tumblr dash
OMIGOSH I’m in love.
I LOVE EVERY BIT OF THIS
This is like the stoplight post. It is Tumblr legend, and I feel I must reblog it for those fortunate few who get to experience it for the first time.
Under D&D rules, a dagger does 1d4 base damage. The average human has a Strength score of 10, adding no bonuses. Several of them, due to the military background of many, likely had strength or dexterity scores of 11-14. But only two or three, and quite a few would be frail with old age, sinking to 8-9 strength. All in all, we can only add a total of +1 damage per round from Brutus.
An estimate of sixty men were involved in Caesar’s actual murder. Not the wider conspiracy, but the stabbing.
Julius Caesar was a general, which is generally depicted as a 10th level fighter. Considering his above baseline constitution and dex, weakened by his probable history of malaria, epilepsy, and/or strokes (-1 dex modifier), and lack of armor at the time of the event, he would likely have something along the lines of AC 9 and 60 HP. The senators would likely hit him roughly 55% the time.
So the Roman senate had a damage-per-round of 66, more than enough to kill Caesar in one round even without factoring in surprise round advantage.
Now THESE are the kind of statistics I wanna see!
So as a giant nerd with the 5e player’s handbook in her purse DM, I’m going to quibble with your math just a tiny bit. Just getting Caesar to 0 wouldn’t do it – he’d have to fail his death saves or be reduced to -60hp to autodie.
First of all, I think given the facts, we can safely disregard any surprise round damage or advantage. Caesar had ample warning of the attack prior to its execution, both from rumors of the plot and portentous omens. This, combined with historical writings that state Caesar attempted to flee, would indicate that there was no surprise round and Caesar was active in the initiative order from the first event.
Accepting your numbers, 33 of the 60 conspirators involved should have succeeded in their attack rolls. This includes Climber, who successfully restrained Caesar, and Brutus, who did an additional 1 point of damage. 3 of the 33 attacks, statistically, were critical hits. If we assume that everyone was using a dagger, no one besides Brutus had damage modifiers, and no one besides Climber used their attack for anything other than a grapple, then the final damage total of the Roman Senate is 71 points of damage. (28 regular attacks at 2 points each [56] + 3 critical attacks at 4 points each [12] + Climber’s grapple [0] + Brutus’s attack at 2+1 [3])
Here’s where it gets hairy. According to historical record and autopsy, only 24 of the 60 attacks landed. (23 stab wounds, plus Climber’s grapple.) This indicates that:
Caesar had a much higher dex mod and correspondingly higher AC/initiative
Some of the conspirators used their actions to increase the DC of Climber’s grapple, rather than attack.
A combination of the above.
Further complicating matters are the following facts:
Caesar attempted to flee, but was blinded by the blood in his eyes, and fell prone.
He not leave melee range, so none of the 60 conspirators received attacks of opportunity against him.
Any attacks after this point had advantage.
The official autopsy and historical record states that the second strike to the chest was a lethal wound, however, the actual cause of death was ruled to be loss of blood from multiple stab wounds.
This single wound was struck late in battle after Caesar was already bleeding out.
Caesar definitely spoke after Casca and Brutus’s attacks, indicating that he was not yet unconscious and these were not the fatal blow.
Either two attacks landed after Caesar was unconscious, each registering as an automatic critical and therefore two failed death saving throws OR
The final attack to land did enough damage to instantly reduce Caesar from 1HP to a number equal to or below his starting HP, resulting in instantaneous death.
With all these facts in consideration, I think we can surmise the following.
Caesar, despite being feebled by age and illness, had a higher dex modifier than the original post credits him with. This aided him in AC, but due to illness, his HP was significantly lower than the average level 10 fighter. Additionally, he must have rolled very poorly on initiative, or else many more conspirators would have hit him while he was prone.
Caesar entered the senate chamber. Climber, who led the initiative round, approached Caesar and grappled him. Immediately after, Casca and Brutus attacked Caesar, both landing non-fatal wounds. Caesar used his first round reaction to grapple Casca in return, grabbing his arm. Casca called for aid, and some other 57 conspirators rushed to help. Given the final numbers, it’s likely that some used their action to dash or add to the DC of the grapple. Most of them acted before Caesar, attacking while he was grappled but not prone. Because of his high AC, many of these strikes missed.
On his turn, Caesar attempted to break the grapple. Caesar rolled a 1, prompting him to become prone. From this point on, attacks against him had advantage. When he was near death, a rogue, (assuming level 10) landed a critical hit with sneak attack. The presence of rogues is supported by Caesar’s words to Casca earlier: “Casca, you villain,” if we assume “villain” is meant, literally, as criminal, and not a metaphor for “stabhappy person”.
What’s awesome is we can use the rogue’s attack as a control for our estimation of Caesar’s HP.
Using the quick build rules in the PHB a human rogue at that level could have a dex as high as 20. For the sake of argument we’ll nerf him down to 15. That gives him a total dex+prof modifier of +6 with a dagger. So for final damage we’re looking at 1d4+5d6+6. That averages out to 23 including the modifier. Maybe around 30 if he rolls extremely well. And, if he struck after Caesar was unconscious, he’d crit automatically. So we’re looking at an average of 40 and a max of 75 points of damage. That gets us right to the sweet spot of the OP’s estimated 60 HP, with a good roll.
So there you have it. The average damage round of the Roman senate is around 70ish points of damage, but against a grappled and prone foe with the aid of one asshole rogue, it’s more in the 120 range.
Really good, and more in depth, analysis.
For clarification on one minor point, “Casca, you villain, what are you doing” is “Scelerate Casca quid agis?” In the original Latin of Suetonius’ account; sceleratus is more much in line with the modern use of villainy- a vile, wicked, debased person- than fur, furcifer, latro, raptor, or any other term a Latin would use for a rogue.
last night i had a dream that i met mother earth and if u were wondering what she looks like it’s dwayne the rock johnson in a flowy white sun dress with rly good winged eyeliner
you mean like this
The best part is that he would totally be down for this
Steel Phoenix Studios 