thatotherindianguy

[thatotherindianguy]

like they say, representation matters

[thatotherindianguy]

It's probably a squeeze bottle.

[thatotherindianguy]

Neil Gaiman, what are you doing EVERYWHERE?? Yesterday, you were in two knowledge bowl questions- one involved a reading from a passage in Stardust, and the other was "Which novel, written by Neil Gaiman, published in 2001-" (I didn't hear the rest of the question before I was shaking my teammate to hit the buzzer). And then, this morning, your name was one of the answer options to a radio show question about who wrote a Dolly Parton song. Sadly you did not write a Dolly Parton song.

Whew!

[thatotherindianguy]

What the shit...

The Fringes Of Society

As late autumn’s chill begins to creep down his collar, Frasier decides to grow his hair out at the back, similar to how he wore it when he first moved back to Seattle a decade earlier.

As his new mane reaches a good length, he feels something of a new lease on life. Unfortunately, this attitude is not shared by Martin - in fact, after several arguments over trivial interactions, Frasier notes that his father has been acting grouchier and more guarded than ever. Frasier attempts to discuss the issue with Niles in Nervosa, but his brother seems to be having a particularly foppish day, with little to offer other than condescending witticisms and glib, preemptive refusals to let Martin move in with him(“After all, what would Maris think?” the younger therapist says in reference to his five-years-divorced ex-wife). 

Seeking out Daphne, Frasier finds her scrubbing his oven wearing black tights and a baggy denim jacket. He questions her about Niles’ and Martin’s strange behaviour, but yields only a rambling barrage of kooky familial anecdotes and several surprisingly accurate psychic readings of various objects around the kitchen. 

Plopping down onto the sofa, exhausted, Frasier absent-mindedly runs a hand over his head and down to the thick mass of curls at the base of his skull. His attempts to contemplate the situation are ruined by Eddie staring silently at him from the other end of the couch, and he eventually flees to his room.

Frasier makes his way back to Nervosa several days later, not having bothered to shave and now sporting a light beard. Asking for his usual at the till, he’s befuddled when a large mug of draft beer comes sliding down the mahogany countertop into his hand. The doctor looks up to see none other than Sam Malone standing behind the counter, wiping down the glass case of biscottis with a dishrag. “Sam! Good heavens, what brings you here?!”, Frasier exclaims with awe. “Well, we couldn’t leave Woody in charge of the place again!” the ex-ballplayer chortles. “Last time, Cliff and Norm convinced him that lagers and pilsners were free on days ending in ‘y’!”.

The doctor strokes his beard with a curious awe as he notices the rest of his old Cheers buddies seated at various tables around the cafe, swilling beer and shooting the blue-collar breeze. Seeing Martin wander in - sans cane and wearing a tacky checkered blazer - Frasier rushes over to introduce his father to the rest of the gang, but “Martin” has no recollection of his own son, claiming his name is Sy Flembeck before sitting down at the upright piano where the espresso machine once stood and loudly improvising an obnoxious new jingle promoting the coffee shop to the tune of “Turkey in the Straw”.

Returning home with a high-end men’s grooming kit, Frasier spends the next few days recreating multiple, subtly-different hair and beard styles from his past, noting the various changes to furniture and artwork around the apartment and relishing a parade of no-strings-attached sexual encounters with old flames - several of whom have not lived in Seattle for years - all of them gathering their things and leaving without a word the next morning after he slips into the bathroom for a pre-breakfast trim or wax. 

Before long, the doctor begins to create wild new ‘dos he’s never worn before, revelling in the variety of the lives being warped around him as he’s dragged by the mohawk to punk rock concerts by a temporarily childless, heroin-addicted Roz, enjoys a powdered-wig fueled week of 18th-century aristocracy, and dreadlocks his way into a smoke-filled radio booth to emcee another afternoon of KACL’s all-reggae lineup with Gil Rastamon and Noel Hempsky.

Months and indeed years pass as Frasier experiments with countless hairstyles, the people around him going through a wild series of phases and personalities along the way. Niles and Daphne - whose nuptial status Frasier has long since lost track of - assert that the time it takes for hair to grow through so many different lengths will inevitably see people going through changes, but Frasier points to the brief existence of one Franklin Crane - a preteen second son with his apparently-current wife Lilith that had appeared while Frasier began wearing a ponytail, and vanished the day he cut it off, along with his former marriage. Niles and Daphne claim to have no memory of such a person, though they seem to get a look of vague recollection as Frasier exasperatedly knits his fingers behind his head. 

Storming out into the street, Frasier pauses to carefully pull a plastic shower cap over his mop of locks, protecting them from the light drizzle beginning to fall. The doctor knows he has long since become obsessed with finding the “right” hairstyle, and thus the right life, having transcended the realm of mere barbers and salons into expensive and exotic hair restoration treatments and wigs made from all variety of human and animal hair, but each new bang, fade, curl, sideburn, rattail, wing and pomp only raises another maddening combination of pros and cons, lives and deaths, riches, diseases, lovers, spouses, careers, crimes, profound honours and shattered legacies that prove impossible for one man to settle on. As torrents of rain begin to pour, he heads to the men’s fine goods shop yet again, this time purchasing nothing but an old-fashioned straight razor. 

The credits theme plays over a shot of Frasier sitting on the floor in the middle of his empty condo, with a shaved head and face, completely alone.

[thatotherindianguy]

Some goat-demon doodles and the ink drawing for the Guardian Books cartoon I posted at the weekend. (the drawing has sold).

[thatotherindianguy]

Sokka: Aang y'know how you took away Ozai’s firebending?

Aang: I recall yes

Sokka: can I have it

Aang: …what?

Sokka: can I have his firebending. just for like ten minutes

Aang: what no

Sokka: why not I wanna prank zuko

Aang:

Aang:

Aang: okay five minutes

[thatotherindianguy]

Is this you?? and why does nobody talk about it if it is???

For the same reason that even the people who notice that I wrote the English language lyrics to the songs in Princess Mononoke fail to notice or remember that I wrote the entire English Language script: Venusian Brain Worms. They feed on memories and knowledge and for some reason the factoid that I wrote the English language script for Princess Mononoke is the tastiest thing in the world for them.

[thatotherindianguy]

tbh this is proof that social media has completely ruined my sense of humor like i could go see a stand up comedian live and not laugh as hard as i did from reading this one fucking tweet

[thatotherindianguy]

Saw this absolutely iconic photo of @neil-gaiman on Twitter and had to share it:

I would love to know the context if anyone out there knows (maybe even...Mr. Gaiman himself?)

[thatotherindianguy]

It's still so strange to me how apparently taboo it is to like a post on someone's Instagram from a month ago when there are posts still circulating on Tumblr from 1550 BCE

[thatotherindianguy]

;)

[thatotherindianguy]

GIFTOBER 2022

DAY TWENTY-SIX: BAD WEATHER

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia 15x08 "The Gang Carries a Corpse Up a Mountain" (2021)

[thatotherindianguy]

I was abou to question why you had this link handy, but...of course you would.

Hi! While discussing Good Omens, a friend of mine mentioned that many 19th century books with green covers contained arsenic, enough to kill multiple people. Agnes Nutter's book is from about the right time period and is described as green...we were wondering if "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter" ever killed anyone.

I'm glad to say that 1640s predates the 19th century, and the first use of Arsenic on book covers is late in the 18th century.

Also, it's the wrong shade of green -- Arsenic green books are a bright and glowing colour. Lots of helpful information here at

[thatotherindianguy]

Seriously.

I'm probably more upset about this than I should be, but it's hard to see a dream die.

This is heartbreaking 😭

Source: @bosslogic at instagram

#henry cavill #superman #dc #art

[thatotherindianguy]

I still have a soft spot for Morrisson's Earth-16, since that was the last use of Christopher Kent.

the sheer comedy of knowing that literally everyone is going to ignore Earth-16 being called one of the Multiversity Earths and will continue to refer to it as "The Young Justice cartoon universe"

[thatotherindianguy]

Well I'm sure as hell not letting my mother find out.

The sardonic, reductionist headline here could be "Scientists finally figured out why you get more colds in winter: bEcAuSe iT's CoLd!"—but the actual science involved here is both interesting, and potentially very relevant to everyday life and especially the immunocompromised:

It turns out the cold air itself damages the immune response occurring in the nose. [...] In fact, reducing the temperature inside the nose by as little as 9 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius) kills nearly 50% of the billions of virus and bacteria-fighting cells in the nostrils, according to the study published Tuesday in The Journal of Allergy and Clinical Immunology. “Cold air is associated with increased viral infection because you’ve essentially lost half of your immunity just by that small drop in temperature,” said rhinologist Dr. Benjamin Bleier, director of otolaryngology at Massachusetts Eye and Ear and an associate professor at Harvard Medical School in Boston.

Want to avoid catching or spreading respiratory viruses like CoVid-19, RSV, influenza, or a common cold? Mask up, please, but also bundle up! Wrap up in a scarf, wear a balaclava, and just generally keep your face warm. There's no single magic solution, but that's not a reason to do nothing. Rather, it's a reason to take several simple precautions that help avoid the spread of disease and protect those around you. (I can't tell you how much "this isn't 100% effective so I shouldn't do it at all" frustrates me.)

Oh, and #knitblr? This is your time to shine.

[thatotherindianguy]

My life and welcome to it...