I think Little Debbie is missing off the mama Robin,  but they might just be horsing around.

Day 20,941: seed 570402105515

https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c4g0nnj51jyo

Died of sadness, I fear that means she took her own life.

Combined my favorite Captain Marvel (Shazam!) Villain with the current #OliveArtClub entry.

I’ll bet on Mr. Mind over Dr. Sivana any day.

#doodles #digitalmarkers #mrmind #shazam

Combined my favorite Captain Marvel (Shazam!) Villain with the current #OliveArtClub entry. #doodles #digitalmarkers #mrmind #shazam

— Scottobear (@scottobear.bsky.social) 2026-06-03T16:47:11.431Z

“There’s one twist that the Trump administration, in all its usual meticulous due diligence, failed to anticipate. As I drew attention to in Saturday’s Just for Skeets and Giggles, the number 250 in Mandarin (pronounced èr bǎi wǔ) is a common insult. It connotes “idiot.” The slang dates back to the Qing Dynasty and remains in vigorous use today. In Chinese culture, the number is considered so inauspicious that prices are rarely set at 250 for anything, and an item costing 250 is simply not given as a gift.”

Via https://statuskuo.substack.com/p/250-sad-trombones

https://svonberg.org/wp-content/uploads/2026/06/monarch3.html

Save as app to android desktop should let it run full screen

Want to make your windows pc better?

1. Win + R
2. services.msc

❌️Connected User Experience
❌️Diagnostic Policy Server
❌️Printer Spooler
❌️Windows Search
❌️Diagnostic Service Host

Reboot.

Why?

Here is how it helps:

Frees Up CPU & RAM: Stops heavy background processing.

Reduces Gaming Stutter: Eliminates random lag spikes.

Ends High Disk Usage: Stops Windows from constantly thrashing your drive.

Saves Bandwidth: Blocks background data uploads to Microsoft.

PRO TIP: Only disable Printer Spooler if you don’t use a printer, and Windows Search if you don’t mind slower file searches!

First of all, this isn't AI, the video is over a decade old. Second of all, I actually prefer this version to the NIN original. Go figure. youtu.be/LhL8Sl3dWl8?…

— Scottobear (@scottobear.bsky.social) 2026-05-31T01:29:42.855Z

Deer and chipmunk

I am thankful that I didn’t have access to the internet before I was a teenager.

I honestly don’t think that I would be able to read books if I were an iPad kid.

Jellyfin: https://jellyfin.org/

Plex: https://plex.tv/

Navidrome: https://www.navidrome.org/

Kavita: https://www.kavitareader.com/

Audiobookshelf: https://www.audiobookshelf.org/

Immich: https://immich.app/

Papra: https://papra.app/en/

Home Assistant: https://www.home-assistant.io/

Symfonium: https://symfonium.app/

KOReader: https://koreader.rocks/

some nights carvins cove doesn’t look real at all

fog hanging low over the water
one lonely light glowing through the trees
everything blue-black and silent like the world already ended an hour ago

you half expect the mystery machine to pull into the parking lot

fred explaining a plan nobody asked for
velma losing her glasses near the shoreline
shaggy and scooby absolutely refusing to go near the old pump house

because carvins cove has that exact energy

not horror movie scary

cartoon scary

the kind where every branch looks suspicious
every ripple in the water feels alive
every empty trail sign seems like the beginning of a local legend somebody’s uncle swears is true

and the deeper you go around the lake
the stranger it gets

mist swallowing whole sections of shoreline
woods pressing close around the road
that feeling that something might emerge from the dark
but it’ll probably just be a deer
or somebody night fishing in complete silence

still

the place feels staged sometimes
like a painted backdrop waiting for thunder sound effects

especially late

when the city disappears behind the mountain
and the cove becomes its own little world

quiet
cold
watching

you stand there long enough
and your brain starts writing stories automatically

ghost divers
lake creatures
secret cabins in the woods
some old groundskeeper with warnings nobody listens to

meanwhile the water just sits there
completely still
letting people imagine whatever they want into it

that’s the magic of the place

by daylight
it’s hiking trails and kayaks and mountain bikes

but at night

it turns into scooby-doo scenery

the kind where you know something weird is about to happen

and it will sooner than you think

#thegleest #roanoke #carvinscove #scoobydoo #blueridgevibes

Current Mood: mortified (but full of carbs)
Current Music: The low hum of a food truck generator

So the other night, we decided we didn’t want to cook. Word on the street was that there was a new tater tot food truck in town, and it was parked at a local charity car show for the evening. Perfect. Dinner and some cool cars to look at.

We hopped into our SUV and headed over. Now, regarding our vehicle. It is a workhorse. It is a daily driver. It is extremely lived-in. There is a fine dusting of cracker crumbs from the in-laws in the back, a random assortment of straw wrappers, some receipts from earlier this week shoved in the cup holders, and generally just the chaotic aura of a vehicle that actively participates in real life. It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a show car.

We pull up to the venue, and I immediately get tunnel vision. I see the food truck in the distance. The holy grail. We pull into the lot, roll down the window, and ask the organizers with clipboards where we should park.

They smile and say, “We’re just taking donations tonight!”

“Awesome, great cause,” I say, handing over some cash. They enthusiastically wave us into a spot in the main lot.
We park. We beeline for the truck. We acquire a frankly obscene amount of loaded tater tots, and we scurry right back to the SUV to eat them in comfortable, air-conditioned privacy.

So, we’re sitting there, happily shoving crispy potatoes into our faces, when we start to actually look around at our surroundings.

We notice the pristine ’69 Camaro parked to our left.

We notice the immaculate, candy-apple red Corvette parked to our right.

We notice that *every single car around us* has its hood popped and its doors wide open. Men with microfiber cloths are furiously buffing invisible smudges off chrome bumpers.

Then I look out my greasy, tot-smudged window and see a group of older gentlemen with clipboards walking towards us.

Uh oh.

The spectator parking lot was across the street. I didn’t see it because we were blinded by the majesty of the tater tot truck. That “donation” we made? That wasn’t for parking. That was the entry fee.
We accidentally entered the Black Pearl into a charity car show.

We were officially contestants. We were, apparently, supposed to be eating our tater tots with our hood popped and our doors flung wide open so the judges could properly admire the structural integrity of the empty LaCroix can rolling around in the backseat.

We honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or sink completely into the floorboards.

We just sat there, chewing our food very slowly, while the occasional car enthusiast walked past our utterly unimpressive SUV with a look of minor confusion.

We certainly didn’t take Best in Show, but the tots were spectacular.