I Had A Sad Today. Realized That With Fall Coming On Strong, All The Butterflies Are Going Away. I Haven't

A tired trope that needs to get flushed:

Intimate partner gaslighting in horror and thriller.

Typical situation: married couple moves to new city (foreign locale where she doesn't speak the language is optional). Husband is distracted by new job/important project/sales meetings and leaves her to her own devices. She exists for a bit so you get that she's a people, and then she notices strange stuff. Some weird dude following her. Honkey shenanigans at the corner grocery. The light fixtures spew black ink and sulphur fumes. Something.

She, having grown up a modern woman and having a Spidey sense on creepers because she's still alive, say to hubby weird shit is going on.

Hubby's automatic reaction is to discount her observations, says she's imagining things, she's overreacting, she's stressed, she's wrong because the stars aren't in alignment, whatever.

Doesn't matter if there's been multiple disappearances in the neighborhood. Doesn't matter if the drawing of the suspect matches the gardener exactly. Doesn't matter that she would have no reason to bullshit. Doesn't matter.

Why not accept that she's seen weird shit? Why not accept the fact that she knows someone is following her? Why not take her at her word? She knows how important the husband thingy is, otherwise she wouldn't have moved, so why would she try to sabotage it for no reason?

My wife tells me she saw weird shit, she saw weird shit. I wasn't there, so who am I to judge?

This guy is an artist like Ed Gein was an interior decorator.

Just a bit of realism for you: at certain times of the year, Hobbiton would absolutely reek of poo when they were fertilizing the fields. Like, a smell so thick it would inundate everything. A poo smell.

I aspire to be this filthy

Introducing the new face of horror: The Cleaner

We Have Super Grass - I Love Hollywood

It's time for a drastic change in politics. We need more transparency and honesty in our parties.

I propose a new party, the Party of the Dark Star. There will be weird rituals, orgiastic caucusing, and the party motto will be "Blood for the Blood God".

Nevermind the rather huge amounts of social pressure to comply with a draft notice (prison sentences, loss of benefits, good luck finding a job outside a few major metropolitan areas). Or the fact that everyone who fled the country to avoid the draft had no way of knowing Carter would pardon them, so basically had signed up to never set foot on American soil ever again. Or messing around with your draft status had an immediate and really bad effect on immigration proceedings of you and your family.

So if you did have the resources available to dodge the draft, do you think the Pentagon just reduced the number of inductees by one? No, they simply found a poor person, usually of color, that lacked those resources to take your place.

Engraved Zippo lighters from the Vietnam War.

~ Cowan’s Auctions

Apparently in the last 18 months, we've been nominated as the county eccentrics. People whom I don't know from Adam are striking up conversation with me, knowing where I live. I was informed of the "eccentric" status relatively recently at the little country store down the road. This pleases me.