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Created
Sat, 17/01/2026 - 05:00

Black seadevil anglerfish
Twenty-five-years-old, monogamous, wants children

What I’m looking for: A confident, independent female roughly twenty times my size with a dangly, glowing orb attached to her forehead.

Don’t hate me if I: Latch on to you and permanently fuse to your body until my head dissolves and our circulatory systems become one

This year, I want to: Delete this app <3

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Giant squid
Fifteen feet long, Catholic, figuring out my dating goals

Give me travel tips for: Two-thousand feet below sea level off the west coast of Norway—Spring break 2026 gonna be a movie!

If loving this is wrong, I don’t want to be right: The Office

My love language is: Physical, tentacle-y touch

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Hexactinellid sponge
Software engineer, nine thousand years old,
twenty-eight centimeters tall

I bet you can’t: Pronounce my name

Created
Sat, 17/01/2026 - 00:00

In these uncertain times, you need a steady hand at the wheel. An unblinking beacon of sure-footed decisiveness. A fearless, damn-the-torpedoes leader who will flawlessly accomplish every goal.

You don’t have that person. But good news: You have me, a uniquely well-qualified ball of anxiety, ready to worry about the fact that you don’t have that person. And also about the fact that you have torpedoes. That seems like a bad idea for a rudderless organization.

“But our budget can’t accommodate another executive!” you may protest. Shhh. Don’t worry your pretty little head; that’s my job. My perturbation is completely pro bono. I will knit my brows, second-guess, and perseverate without compensation of any kind.

I require no specific hours of work. I stand ready to contribute round-the-clock, unmitigated what-ifisms to any and every to-do list, whether or not it’s in my job description.

Created
Fri, 16/01/2026 - 05:00

“What we are seeing across the country as organized gangs of wine moms use Antifa tactics to harass and impede Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents is not civil disobedience. It isn’t even protest. It’s just crime.”
David Marcus, writing in an op-ed for FoxNews.com

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Belle Ave. Wine Moms Gang
Meeting Minutes

Date: 14 Jan 2026
The meeting was called to order at 8:00 p.m. by Emily in Lauren’s Basement.

Present: Emily, Lauren, Megan, Katie, Jessica S., Sarah, Jennifer, Amanda, Ashley, Jenny, Rachel, Stephanie, and Jessica M.

Business from Previous Meeting

Created
Fri, 16/01/2026 - 01:00
Sarah Munson and Callum Ashworth In recent years, retail investors’ demand for UK government bonds (gilts) has increased, marking a change in the composition of market participants. The growth of retail investors, comprised of individuals managing their own portfolios, has been a global phenomenon (Foxall et al (2025)). But what’s driving this change, and what … Continue reading Retail investors’ participation in the gilt market
Created
Fri, 16/01/2026 - 00:00

Hi, my name’s Kyle. Yes, I get in whatever lane has fewer cars and then merge. I merge late so others can practice forgiveness. I don’t see it as cutting someone off. I see it as giving them a spiritual workout.

Merging, to me, is faith in motion. When I flick on my blinker, at the last possible second, I’m not being rude. I’m saying I believe in you. I believe you’ll make space. That you’ll overcome the petty human urge to honk and instead ascend toward grace.

Patience is a muscle, and I’m your personal trainer. I push you past your limit. You might shake. You might curse my name. But later, when your blood pressure stabilizes, and you feel the calm wash over you, you’ll thank me. As Gandhi said, or maybe I’m paraphrasing, “Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” I’m just here to spot you.

Traffic isn’t chaos. It’s just therapy with horns. Every red light is a breathing exercise. Every missed exit is an opportunity for growth. Every time I merge late, someone releases the anger they’ve been holding since childhood. And if that isn’t public service, I don’t know what is.

Created
Thu, 15/01/2026 - 01:00

You’ve Always Been This Way is a column written by Taylor Harris, a late-diagnosed neurodivergent woman and 1980s preschool dropout, who identifies every moment from her past that filled her with shame, and mutters, “Yep, that tracks. I see it all now.”

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I sent an Instagram post to my daughter recently, an apology for some of the ways I’d mothered her before I knew she was autistic. I’d already run the reel of regret in my head many times, remembering flickers of moments when I’d sidestepped her distress or pushed the “ignore” button on her cries. She’s our firstborn, and her dad and I had been advised that toddlers, then preschoolers, and even some school-aged children who threw “tantrums” needed to learn their caregivers would not cave to every desire or demand. Okay, that seemed to make sense. People were always warning us that a kid who hears five “no’s” and then an exhausted “yes” has your number. You’re cooked.