Tuesday is too busy using Text Synth to start a daily thread

Tuesdays on Moopy are a thing now. A thing that I like.

And, as a bonus, they’re also a good way to get out of the house.

Moopy is a 7-year old lab mix. He’s a big dog, but he has a certain playfulness that I like, and he doesn’t take it too seriously. He loves food, and there’s plenty of it around in this part of California. He loves to swim in the pool. When it rains, he’s happy to take a nap outside, curled up by the front door. He’s good with cats, and even though he hasn’t come to enjoy the taste of their fur, he still seems pretty gentle.

So when I had the idea of starting Tuesdays on Moopy, I figured he’d be excited. After all, it’s dog play time, right?

He didn’t exactly jump up and down when I suggested it to him, but he showed no signs of resistance. He seemed interested enough to go along.

So here we go, Tuesdays on Moopy, now with a weekly post.

This post isn’t an exhaustive catalog of our adventures, but it does contain a fair number of photos. Feel free to click on them, read the captions, or click on them again, just for kicks.

So this is what you can see at the beginning of Tuesdays on Moopy.

This is the view from my back door.
 
Text synth had spilled over. It was no longer contained in its thread. Moopy was in danger.

"She's in trouble!" Moopy cried, but he didn't think she could hear him. She was far beyond that. Ahead, the line of light was gone. The cave-mouth was blocked. There was only darkness. Rix was in such a hurry to reach his wife that he broke a finger climbing down, and his foot got caught in the roots of a fir tree. The tree gave way, and he fell to the earth with a thud.

He thought of the jade figurine, and the image of a woman's mouth formed in his mind. He had to have a quick look around. The noise must have brought the trolls down on him. Their footfalls, their shrieks and the sound of their snapping their fingers, made a low rumbling sound.

"The little pixie!" someone yelled. "Kill the little pixie!"

_Cripes!_
 
On a lighter note, I’m watching Victoria & Abdul, mostly because I wanted to see Judi Stench grimacing at things. It’s quite sweet but I fear it might be evil white nonsense. But the Indians are taking the piss out of everyone so maybe it’s alright
 
On a darker note, I still can’t cook Om-Rice well. Maybe I’m using too much egg, so it doesn’t cook on top, so I cook longer and the underside gets over cooked and brown.

when I turn it over and put the ketchup on, it looks like I’ve bludgeoned a tortoise
 
Diddy was still struggling to cook Om-Rice well. He didn't know how to cook Om-Rice and he didn't know how to make Om-Rice. He was the kind of person who always got lost in the process. He always forgot to wash the rice. He always forgot to boil the water. He always forgot to make the sauce and he always forgot to add the sesame oil. He was always the last one to add the sesame oil and the last to add the sauce. He always forgot to bring the rice pot to the table. He always forgot to eat.

One day, he decided to watch T.V and he was watching a show where a man cooked a meal for a man. The man wasn't satisfied with the meal. He wanted something different. He wanted him to try different foods, which he called him over to the table. He explained the whole process and the whole set-up. He explained every single step as if he was a student taking a test. He showed him every single thing that he did and what he was looking for. The man watched intently and he seemed to understand what was going on. When he was finished, the man didn't say anything but he was smiling. He stood up and he ran out the door. The man wasn't satisfied with the results but the man seemed to be. He looked like a child who had just gotten his first car. Diddy was pleased. He didn't know what he had done but he did. It was the first time in his life that he had done something like this and he couldn't wait to try it again.
 
Kate said:
Diddy was still struggling to cook Om-Rice well. He didn't know how to cook Om-Rice and he didn't know how to make Om-Rice. He was the kind of person who always got lost in the process. He always forgot to wash the rice. He always forgot to boil the water. He always forgot to make the sauce and he always forgot to add the sesame oil. He was always the last one to add the sesame oil and the last to add the sauce. He always forgot to bring the rice pot to the table. He always forgot to eat.

One day, he decided to watch T.V and he was watching a show where a man cooked a meal for a man. The man wasn't satisfied with the meal. He wanted something different. He wanted him to try different foods, which he called him over to the table. He explained the whole process and the whole set-up. He explained every single step as if he was a student taking a test. He showed him every single thing that he did and what he was looking for. The man watched intently and he seemed to understand what was going on. When he was finished, the man didn't say anything but he was smiling. He stood up and he ran out the door. The man wasn't satisfied with the results but the man seemed to be. He looked like a child who had just gotten his first car. Diddy was pleased. He didn't know what he had done but he did. It was the first time in his life that he had done something like this and he couldn't wait to try it again.
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this was inspirational
Now I realise why my om-rice often tends to be a plate of uncooked rice with a raw egg
 
Rachey’s last words revealed by her cat; “Heathcliff, it’s me, I’m Rachey, I’ve come home, I’m so cold, let me in at your window”; a long-lost diary discovered by a curious, young boy named Nicholas, that describes Heathcliff’s childhood; and the revelation that Mrs. Dean’s young son is the same boy as Nicholas, who is now, ironically, in search of a parent of his own. But why are the children so interested in these documents? And what is the secret that drives Heathcliff so mad? The story moves from Scotland in the nineteenth century through the twentieth to find its conclusion in present day America. It features the descendants of all the leading characters as well as many familiar characters from the Wuthering Heights era. This novel is a story of secrets, lies, betrayal, and love. (I received a complimentary copy of this novel in exchange for my honest review.) I absolutely loved this novel. It is such a unique concept. An amazing plot, suspenseful. It made me question what would happen if I were to find something
 
Tisch held the gaze of the attractive window cleaner as he slowly removed his jeans.

"Oh my God," she gasped, her eyes glued to his thick erection. "You are so _big_ , you're—oh. My. God."

Tisch began to unbutton his fly.

"I don't—I don't know what to say," she stammered.

"It's all right," he said. "Just relax and enjoy."

A moment later, Tisch was naked.
 
Kate said:
Tisch held the gaze of the attractive window cleaner as he slowly removed his jeans.

"Oh my God," she gasped, her eyes glued to his thick erection. "You are so _big_ , you're—oh. My. God."

Tisch began to unbutton his fly.

"I don't—I don't know what to say," she stammered.

"It's all right," he said. "Just relax and enjoy."

A moment later, Tisch was naked.
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She?
 
Tisch held the gaze of the attractive MALE window cleaner as he slowly removed his jeans. He had to admit this was the hottest, most delicious ass he'd seen all day. It was the type that drove him insane with desire. Daringly, the window cleaner slowly began to pull his own jeans down off his butt. He was just about to get that incredible ass in his mouth when suddenly his head was struck by a heavy object from the floor, directly on the left side of his face. He looked up and saw a big, dark-skinned, mustachioed man in a suit with long braided hair in front of him. Before his stunned eyes, the big man raised a small black pistol. The thug pointed the gun directly at Tisch's face.

The window cleaner looked at the gunman who was now pointing the gun at him, but he had no weapon. He was totally naked except for the red briefs he was wearing. His huge white ass was at the ready for any kind of action. Tisch's big white cock sprung up as the thug put the butt of the gun on his head and pointed it in his direction. The window cleaner's mouth was half-open in silent prayer.

"Oh, my fucking God," the window cleaner muttered.

"The pleasure of meeting you is great, but I have no time for social interactions." The big man smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth.

The thug gestured to Tisch with his gun and the window cleaner followed him across the room. The guy pointed to the table.

"Put your clothes and your wallet there." The thug turned and grinned at the window cleaner.
 
jivafox said:
The gays can never have a nice story :(
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You're right...


The nicest thing ever happened to two gay men.
“Oh, I’m not gay,” says the older one. “That’s just a rumour!”
“You’re not?” asks the younger.
“No,” says the older one.
“Well that’s just silly,” says the younger one.
“My mistake,” says the older one.
“I thought you were a gay.”
“You thought that?” says the younger one.
“Well,” says the older one. “It’s not you, you’re not gay. It’s me. I thought you were.”
This is what our world is like these days. It is one long rumour. It is one long denial. I have never been married. I have never had children.
 
Kate said:
Tisch held the gaze of the attractive MALE window cleaner as he slowly removed his jeans. He had to admit this was the hottest, most delicious ass he'd seen all day. It was the type that drove him insane with desire. Daringly, the window cleaner slowly began to pull his own jeans down off his butt. He was just about to get that incredible ass in his mouth when suddenly his head was struck by a heavy object from the floor, directly on the left side of his face. He looked up and saw a big, dark-skinned, mustachioed man in a suit with long braided hair in front of him. Before his stunned eyes, the big man raised a small black pistol. The thug pointed the gun directly at Tisch's face.

The window cleaner looked at the gunman who was now pointing the gun at him, but he had no weapon. He was totally naked except for the red briefs he was wearing. His huge white ass was at the ready for any kind of action. Tisch's big white cock sprung up as the thug put the butt of the gun on his head and pointed it in his direction. The window cleaner's mouth was half-open in silent prayer.

"Oh, my fucking God," the window cleaner muttered.

"The pleasure of meeting you is great, but I have no time for social interactions." The big man smiled, showing off his perfect white teeth.

The thug gestured to Tisch with his gun and the window cleaner followed him across the room. The guy pointed to the table.

"Put your clothes and your wallet there." The thug turned and grinned at the window cleaner.
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Oh MY. This is actually like that super hot story @Jark wrote :D
 
The two gay men lived happily ever after in Australia until the fateful morning when, as they were about to leave for work, their lives were irrevocably changed. A jury at the Sydney District Court this week convicted one man of the murders of the other man’s husband and lover, and sent him to prison for more than 14 years. Both men are fathers. One now has custody of the children they had with their dying spouses. The other will lose custody of his two sons and two daughters. The murders took place on November 13, 2010, and have shocked the gay community in Sydney, which has long boasted a strong gay rights movement and a vibrant LGBTIQ+ scene. The pair had been living in the Hunter Valley for a number of years before the fatal encounter took place in the central coast city of Morisset. One is the estranged husband of Craig Rolfe, whose name is a pseudonym used by The Saturday Paper to protect his identity. He has been identified publicly as “Craig”. Craig Rolfe was stabbed more than 60 times at the scene of his brutal murder, and his body was left in a laneway, where it remained for more than a year until it was found by two men walking their dog. The other man, who was a close friend and workmate of Craig Rolfe, was found dead at his house on December 21, 2010. He, too, had been stabbed more than 60 times, and his body was concealed in a suitcase found at the property.

Real Housewives Beverly Hills What GIF by Samantha
 
:love:

Gay men Tisch and Iguana had a beautiful, incident-free wedding day. We shot their vows on a snowy April afternoon at The Loft in Hollywood.

From the moment Tisch and Iguana first told me they wanted to get married, I was struck by the fact that they are two very different people. Tisch is an intense, handsome musician and artist from Seattle, Washington, who makes music as a member of local punk rock band, The Visconti Family. Iguana is a calm, thoughtful, handsome chef from Seattle who, for many years, spent his days in the kitchen of Seattle’s Best Coffee, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner for his customers. They also share a love of cats, which is an obvious parallel. A lot of time passed before we discovered that the very first time Tisch met Iguana was at one of his sister’s wedding receptions, in which a group of Iguana’s friends were also in attendance. Tisch asked Iguana for his phone number, but when he went to call him, Iguana had vanished.

Tisch was understandably crushed. In an attempt to find Iguana, Tisch wrote a love poem for him on the back of a napkin, and posted the poem to a website called StumbleUpon. Iguana stumbled upon the post, and they hit it off, but Iguana was also working hard at a catering company and had no time for dating.

Soon, Tisch asked Iguana out. And when Iguana told him he’d been with the same man for 17 years, Tisch understood.

They began talking about moving in together. They didn’t have a plan or a budget, but Tisch’s father has owned his own restaurant for many years, and he was willing to share the business with his son. Iguana was open to the idea, and after they began talking seriously about how to make their plan work, Tisch decided to take the leap.
 
So we appear to have established that Text Synth is inherently homophobic and racist. That's unusual, on the internet.
 
dmlaw said:
So we appear to have established that Text Synth is inherently homophobic and racist. That's unusual, on the internet.
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The data AI learns from is inherently racist, so its no surprise
 
Kate said:
:love:

Gay men Tisch and Iguana had a beautiful, incident-free wedding day. We shot their vows on a snowy April afternoon at The Loft in Hollywood.

From the moment Tisch and Iguana first told me they wanted to get married, I was struck by the fact that they are two very different people. Tisch is an intense, handsome musician and artist from Seattle, Washington, who makes music as a member of local punk rock band, The Visconti Family. Iguana is a calm, thoughtful, handsome chef from Seattle who, for many years, spent his days in the kitchen of Seattle’s Best Coffee, cooking breakfast, lunch and dinner for his customers. They also share a love of cats, which is an obvious parallel. A lot of time passed before we discovered that the very first time Tisch met Iguana was at one of his sister’s wedding receptions, in which a group of Iguana’s friends were also in attendance. Tisch asked Iguana for his phone number, but when he went to call him, Iguana had vanished.

Tisch was understandably crushed. In an attempt to find Iguana, Tisch wrote a love poem for him on the back of a napkin, and posted the poem to a website called StumbleUpon. Iguana stumbled upon the post, and they hit it off, but Iguana was also working hard at a catering company and had no time for dating.

Soon, Tisch asked Iguana out. And when Iguana told him he’d been with the same man for 17 years, Tisch understood.

They began talking about moving in together. They didn’t have a plan or a budget, but Tisch’s father has owned his own restaurant for many years, and he was willing to share the business with his son. Iguana was open to the idea, and after they began talking seriously about how to make their plan work, Tisch decided to take the leap.
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Tisch the musician, and Iguana the cook. SO WRONG. :D
 
Star said:
What is going on
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"What is going on?" Star asked. "Are we fighting?"

"We are not fighting, love."

"Can we be done yet?" Star asked, sounding defeated. "We have been at this for almost an hour. Can we be done?"

"We are not done yet, sweet child."

It wasn't until I got home that I remembered I had forgotten to ask about the phone call earlier that morning. "Did that voice tell you anything?" I asked Jack as I opened the front door and put the laundry basket down on the kitchen table.

"He said he's a man of many faces and that your mother was in good hands." I felt relieved.

I walked over to the phone, placed my cell on the counter and dialed.

"Hello, Mrs. Dandridge."

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry to be calling you in the middle of the night, but I have an emergency, I just wanted to make sure you are ok."

"I'm ok, but my mother is not."
 
Star removed her shirt and bra and straddled the spacehopper.

'There we are then,' she said.

The spacehopper hummed as it took off and quickly rose above the rooftops. After what seemed like forever they rose up into the stars. It shot up towards the clouds. The woman in the blue dress sat beside the driver. They both watched in silence. One day she had no shirt on and one day he saw her naked. What would they think of one another? He didn't want to find out. He didn't want to know the truth about her. He liked her and that was that.

As she watched the horizon of blue she saw her reflection in the mirror. She put a hand on her breast and watched in shock as the image repeated. It looked so real. Could this be true? The woman stared into the mirror and saw her own face. Could she see her beauty? She turned round to look at the driver, but he wasn't looking.
 
ZenGiraffe said:
"What is going on?" Star asked. "Are we fighting?"

"We are not fighting, love."

"Can we be done yet?" Star asked, sounding defeated. "We have been at this for almost an hour. Can we be done?"

"We are not done yet, sweet child."

It wasn't until I got home that I remembered I had forgotten to ask about the phone call earlier that morning. "Did that voice tell you anything?" I asked Jack as I opened the front door and put the laundry basket down on the kitchen table.

"He said he's a man of many faces and that your mother was in good hands." I felt relieved.

I walked over to the phone, placed my cell on the counter and dialed.

"Hello, Mrs. Dandridge."

"Oh, dear. I'm so sorry to be calling you in the middle of the night, but I have an emergency, I just wanted to make sure you are ok."

"I'm ok, but my mother is not."
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Cliffhanger!
 
Breaking News: Jeff Bezos did not explode. He is not dead, and his space travel business is still alive.

Last week, when it was revealed that Jeff Bezos might be considering a spaceflight to the moon, everybody had their eyes on the man. Who wouldn’t? Since the beginning of the new millennium, he has become the richest man on earth, and the first private citizen to place a human into space.

He’s a billionaire, he’s a visionary, he’s a legend, but you know what? He may not be. Not any more. So before we jump into the latest conspiracy theories, we would do well to have a look at the facts. Is Jeff Bezos about to change the world as we know it?
 
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