reality is the battlefield
- she/they (pl)
- breadthcharge.net/
the first line goes in Cohost embeds
🐥 I am not embroiled in any legal battle
🐦 other than battles that are legal 🎮
I speak to the universe and it speaks back, in it's own way.
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email: contact at breadthcharge dot net
I live on the northeast coast of the US.
'non-functional programmer'. 'far left'.
conceptual midwife.
https://cohost.org/NireBryce/post/4929459-here-s-my-five-minut
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in reply to @cathoderaydude's post:
In terms of potency, a half gram of high quality shatter is variable; its THC equivalent in fairly standard smoked weed is anywhere from an 'eighth' of weed, around 3.5g, up to like half of a full ziplock-ass ~28g ounce, and more often than not around that half ounce. You could get a couple of dense, well-packed joints out of an eighth, about a gram a piece. A standard pipe or cone (again, variable) is up to roughly half a gram, if packed real tight. So a half gram of shatter to a half ounce of bud, around ~14 grams of weed, roughly ~28 or so cones, give or take. Highly variable and extremely napkin-math, but it's exposition solely to make the point that
this man just hit about 28 regular smoker's worth weed, each one probably experiencing at least an hour's high, if not more,
and he shrugged it off inside of three minutes. He went through it, but less than most folks go through a hard bathroom run after eating too much cheese.
This felt like watching someone shit out the venom of a king cobra that just bit them, and doing a call to action at the end of it.
fucking incredible.
that's really what makes it; the man is dying, he's seeing his final moments from outside his own body, and yet during that penultimate second, the end of his own existence, the primal call of capitalism wrenches him back to the mortal coil and he slams straight into The Pitch. the first time i watched it i almost cried
i was absolutely floored when i saw the turn; to spend minutes watching a man's body slowly succumb to a lethal toxin dose - the sweat pouring off him, the shaking hands, the drool, the way his eyes roll, the wavering tone of voice... Only to see him crest the worst of it, drop like a stone in under a minute, and hammer the CTA as strong as ever. as well executed a twist as could possibly be hoped for in a narrative hand-built, yet to see it in the wild, raw, earnest review? my legs were swept and i was slack-jaw stunned. had to watch it again just to marvel. all capitalism aside, i can't help but respect the craft, and the sheer, dogged effort.
thank you for finding this.
the fact he was still able to string a sentence together and maintain a coherent train of thought would be an astounding accomplishment on its own, but the performance? The absolutely nailed line delivery matching the beginning flawlessly? Man has mastered the art of piercing through the veil.