It started as a fake psychiatry scam, but when Hubbard realized there were laws regulating medicine he switched it over to being a religion where there aren’t any of those pesky regulations or ethical oversight.

Weird, they just let a psycho killer be a cop? I’m sure they’ll prevent that in the future.

You’re never too rich to enjoy a free turkey dog.

I love you.

Yamaha makes the best guitar for the money.

The instrument I probably play the most is a nylon string Yamaha with a great dual pickup/mic that I got for $100 at a pawn shop. It has some cosmetic wear, but that’s a bonus in my opinion.

My very favorite system is Apocalypse World; it always plays out as high-drama operatic pulp. It does tend to go PvP in later sessions, so it’s definitely not for every group.

I also enjoy Blades in the Dark, a heist game set in a haunted Victorian London-inspired city. There are a lot of great innovations that mean the players don’t have to meticulously plan out their session (often wasting time on contingencies that are irrelevant), and instead can jump right in and get to the juicy bits.

Mothership is a great sci-fi horror OSR (old school revival) game that is very modular and has a ton of pre-written modules. Normally I prefer a more improvised style, but this is a solid ruleset that works well towards building the tension required for the genre.

If you’re just looking for a one-shot, Fiasco is always a great time: very rules light and more like a writers room exercise than most RPGs, but there’s no better game for hilarious hijinks inspired by films like Fargo or Burn After Reading.

Dogs in the Vineyard is another great one by the same designers as Apocalypse World in which the players are teenage paladin gunslingers in a weird old west populated by demons and heretics. The players come to town with absolute moral authority and may judge whomever they wish, but there’s no guarantee they’re really the good guys even though their characters absolutely see themselves that way.

DnD is a fine game.

But in my opinion, there are so many better roleplay systems.

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He knows. All they need is an excuse.

Get some canned chilis in adobo; that sauce adds a nice smoky flavor.

Also if you want to thicken it up, crumble some tortilla chips into it.

Well then I have bad news about dementia and habitual stimulant abuse…

I hope every day of his life is the new worst one.

I didn’t realize he was the bad guy in The Frighteners until recently. He did such an amazing job in that one— just a real piece of shit you loved to hate.

The cables are extra long so they have plenty of slack, too.

You bet!

Exposing the moral depravity of reactionaries is kind of a pet project of mine.

Abilene Texas is a wretched hive of Christian nationalism and reactionary entitlement.

I only drive out there because I have family there; my niece was a victim of another pedo pastor there.

That’s depressingly common in modern times.

It’s easier if you live near a city with lots of people, but going to meetup.com or similar will show you lots of communities that are eager to get more people involved.

It is always easier to stay home so sometimes I need to make myself go out and be social, but consistency is key. Showing up every week to a meetup will root you in a community more that once every couple months.

Find an IRL community that means something to you. You have to feel like you belong somewhere, and people need a support group to help when they’re down. You can’t feel happy if you’re lonely.

I’m imagining a seedy nest of lechery; empty whisky bottles strewn haphazardly on every surface imaginable. Opening kitchen doors is a gamble, and snake eyes means you’ve put your hand in some unidentifiably pungent, sticky, or greasy substance.

A glassy-eyed Giuliani sits on the battered leather couch that’s stained with a decade of fluids and spirits— he has become a part of it, sinking into the foam and springs. The lawyers kick his dangling foot, and life flutters back into his limbs; he shakes off the headache that has followed him like a bloodhound throughout his adulthood, letting it settle to a throbbing pulse in the back of his head. Black bile seeps out of this psychic wound as he cries out to an indifferent universe, but only a feeble croak escapes his lips.

Why won’t they release the pics?!

No, I realized that after I wrote it and did the lazy thing and didn’t edit.