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Joined 1 year ago
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Cake day: June 13th, 2023

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  • I get your point and totally agree that direction isn’t followed NEARLY often enough, but I personally find it to be open to interpretation whether what they encounter is truly “hell” in a biblical sense or just an alternate dimension that can be construed in such a way that anyone who’s ever heard of the concept would define it as hell, and I prefer the latter at least in my own head.

    If you look at it through the lens of it not really being Hell Original ™ it becomes almost Lovecraftian, given that everyone who comes into contact with the dimension loses their minds and that the ship itself gains a kind of sentience having just passed through it, but the comparison to Hellraiser is definitely valid given all we see of it is just wanton violence amongst the ship’s original crew, so for all we know it could be straight up Satan driving the boat.









  • I used Brave on mobile for a full week about a year or so ago at the suggestion of a coworker before realizing it gave me nothing over Firefox and added the bizarre crypto angle to everything.

    This was during my (thankfully brief) crypto interest phase and I tried to see if I could accumulate any of the BAT coins the browser would give you for viewing ads…that never worked somehow so I accumulated zero, which was certainly one thing that led to me getting fed up with it and going back to Firefox.

    Beyond that, the interface was weird, it was prone to crashes, and it was generally a hassle. 100% flash-in-the-pan cash-grab effort.



  • 00Sixty7@lemmy.worldto196@lemmy.blahaj.zonerule
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    1 year ago

    By that logic, why does 535 look like more than 3/4s of 3397? Because it’s not the easiest to show the accurate scale of 3397 versus 535 on an infographic and not have to figure out how to display a 12000x1500 pixel image in such a way you can still read it. It’s not a conspiracy, just lame formatting. Chill.








  • You have no idea what time it is when shot rings out from the far corner of your old one-room shack, but you know it’s late. Adrenaline surging and ears ringing, you grab the old Colt revolver that sits on the stool beside your straw bed, thinking maybe those cattle rustlers the neighbors had been telling you about have finally got desperate enough to make a move on the property. Your bare feet hit the rough-hewn wood floor and you stumble as quickly as you can to the window, its little glass panes wavy and revealing nothing more than inky blackness. You’re sure you heard the shot, but there’s no signs of life outside save for the crickets that have resumed their song after only a few seconds intermission. You swear you can even smell the gunpowder smoke, but maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, forcing alertness in the deep, lonely night. The adrenaline begins to wear, your limbs starting to ache as they long to go back to their fully interrupted sleep. You take a step to the left to turn from the window and you hear a sickening squelch and feel something squish between your toes that freezes you in your tracks. In the dim light given off by the fire smoldering in the cast-iron stove in the corner, you can tell that whatever it is is an ugly shade of red.

    After a minute of silent contemplation, your brain puts it all together and your face quietly contorts into the most violent grimace it can muster. The goddamn trap that bastard salesman outside the general store had sold you down the river on the day before. The one that’d use your spare pistol. Well, he was right, it had worked. Now that rat that had eaten a hole in the corner of your bag of sugar decorates a small section of the wall, the floor, and the bottom of your foot and there’s a warm black crater in the floorboard where it had made its last stand. Hobbling, you traipse outside to wipe your foot in the grass. Right there, you know what you must do. No matter what else, you’re sure that bastard salesman won’t be selling any more of those goddamn traps.