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lowdudgeon.bsky.social
256 levels of dudgeon The Manhattan of top hats, endless rounds of martinis, and lorgnettes ⌈⁰⁰
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I still think that the quality of being stale, having gone stale, should be called “stallor,” on the model of “pallor.”

To lose one fighter jet, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose three looks like carelessness.

The ghost of John Candy stars in 'Uncle Buck Who Can Recall His Past Lives'.

Hot Girl Summer was last year, right? So there should be no hot girls this summer, correct?

Call me old-fashioned but no living thing needs more than a single cell.

is this the met gala

Someone should plead "not guilty by reason of sanity" for a legal mic-drop moment.

If you see this, post the most recent picture of you from your camera roll

New super low-budget Star Trek animation. Static backgrounds and cardboard cut-out characters. (The writing is still top notch, because that doesn't cost anything.)

against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past

Damn this head—and the neck it rode in on.

New super low-budget Star Trek animation. Static backgrounds and cardboard cut-out characters. (The writing is still top notch, because that doesn't cost anything.)

Dreamed Mrs. Dudgeon had become a local politician or something (highly unlikely) and whimsically gave me the log-in credentials to her site. “Can I make laws?” I asked. “Sure!” So I spent the rest of the dream trying to come up with laws to propose. (I am not remotely a lawmaker or politician.)

@inigopurcell.bsky.social I was watching this light TV romcom show about a young Inuk woman in an Arctic village, when suddenly Mary Lynn Rajskub shows up. You can bet I’ll be yelling “Dammit Chloe there’s no time!” at least once per episode.

If you see this post your getaway vehicle

Bitter Tears On Petra’s Go-Kart

Mood

Remove a letter, ruin a movie. Last Ear At Marienbad The Bitter Ears of Petra von Kant

You can tell that I had an unusually social day, attending two (2) separate events, because my voice has gone down an octave. Either that or I am employing an elaborate pitch-shifting apparatus.

The average American has three friends.

Nothing and no one touches my heart anymore—save my lady (a renowned surgeon).

One “Reagan” (probably the dead president's ghost) writes “Following Up on My Previous Email,” which is always delightful: “I hope this email finds you well. A few days ago, I reached out to introduce myself and share how [__] Blender could bring value to your operations.” #SpamEmailOfTheDay

Happy May Day, don’t be a scab.

♬ Oh it's Walpurgis Night And the feeling's right Oh yes Walpurgis Night Oh what a night (Oh what a night!) ♪