Notices by Erin Bee (erinbee@gorgon.city)

For a moment, I felt a twinge of inadequacy when people started posting their 2025 reading goals, often of 100+ books. The goal I set myself was to finish 24. Then I remembered that I know myself: If I am in the mood for fiction, I probably could fly through close to 100. But when I'm into nonfiction, I'm slow. Not methodical, but I get stopped and distracted by questions that drag me into a Wikipedia hole. Or I go looking for out of print references on the Internet Archive.

Uhhhh...is this horoscope telling me that it's ok to stop striving for professional success and just go full Unabomber?

(AI generated text and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.)

The fault, dear Uncle Ted, is not in our stars, but in the consequences of the industrial revolution.

I saw a Cybertruck today, and I cannot express how much it really does look like a drawing by someone having a vehicle described to them, who has never seen one before. It looks like a Decepticon that normally turns into a refrigerator tried to become a truck to infiltrate the Autobots. Just a complete uncanny Valley effect.

@brennen It really isn't. It's more like a Jeep, but it isn't even quite like that. The bed is really weird.

Stacy's mom
Has set up us the bomb
Her name is CATS and the main screen turn on
Stacy, you and I, make our time before we die
I know it might be wrong
Our base belong to Stacy's mom

Put on your black eyeliner and dance around Charlie Brown style — "Welcome to the Christmas Parade"

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3zQ53oXITyk

New favourite cryptid.

@craigmaloney

Literal sword lesbians.

(Sword given to Maréchal Joseph Joffre, former commander-in-chief of the French military, in 1919; representing friendship between Provence and Catalonia. From le musée de l'Armée in Paris.)

Unicode has had "prioritization pending" on a trombone emoji since 2017, which is ridiculous considering the amount of times it could have been used to represent the sad womp womp sound in the last six years.

I heard there was a secret note
That William Carlos Williams wrote
But you don't really care for sorries, do you?

It goes like this, they're cold, they're sweet
You saved them for a breakfast treat
But from your fridge, I took the plums and screwed you.