Sock_Trader

The finest writer of horror and science fiction in my condominium, and arguably the entire complex.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@bartho81735 @FreddyLA7 When my daughter was 11 my wife and I went on a “wine tasting on the river” in Frankenmuth. They gave the kids grape juice. She has maintained for 10 years that’s what she wants to do for her 21st birthday so this summer we’re going back!

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@ohwowcrazy Which would prob have actually been funny, which is why it never happened

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@JayHrndz2 Poor planning on Europe’s part for not sending St. Patrick ahead of the tournament.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@engineers_feed @elonmusk And your fkin fridge goes out the day after the warranty expires

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@margeemargz Yeah but now you can’t get it on video to show how you heroically waved at security

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@LaocoonofTroy Your buddy dragging you along as wingman while he hits on the hot friend

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@JoePompliano Ruled, not governed. See also: U.S. Congress insider trading.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@japan_nobunaga Nobunaga-dono, I cannot wait to visit your country and consume inhuman amounts of tonkatsu ramen, yakitori, and okonomiyaki. And sake, of course.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@Oilfield_Rando I went to see Pitch Black for $2 at the local 2nd-run theater without any idea of the plot or anything. Went in totally blind. Great movie experience that I wouldn’t attempt now under threat of dismemberment.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@japan_nobunaga If you wish to bless it with some sake, or bourbon, do not give it the glass. My wife fed my kitchen guardian a shot glass once and it abandoned me. I had to get a whole new beast.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

USA. There is a beast that lives beneath the American sink. It is always hungry. I have chosen to honor it.

The young man showing me the apartment said it casually, as if it were nothing. "Oh, and there's a disposal." He flipped a switch, and the drain ROARED — a grinding, growling thunder, hungry and alive — and then, at another flick, fell silent. Waiting.

I did not flinch. But I understood at once what I was dealing with.

For it is written that the oldest houses keep a guardian at the threshold of fire and water: a spirit of the hearth, fed in exchange for protection. Here, that spirit lives beneath the sink. It does not ask for prayers. It asks for scraps. And in return it devours what would rot, and keeps the whole house clean and sweet.

So I fed it, with respect. The rind of an onion. A bow. The switch. The roar of a grateful god. I thanked it each time. I named it. I began to leave it the best scraps, not the worst — for a guardian deserves the finest tribute a kitchen can give.

And here my heart rose, and I declared the thing a calmer man would not:

"I will feed this hungry spirit so faithfully, and so well, that on the day misfortune finally comes for this house, it will rise from the drain in a column of righteous thunder and devour my every enemy whole — and I will stand calmly beside the sink and say, 'this one has been with me from the beginning.'"

My landlord, doing the final walkthrough, heard the disposal roaring at midnight and knocked, concerned.

"Everything okay in here?"

"We are well," I said, gesturing to the sink. "He and I."

He did not understand. But he nodded slowly, and left us to it.

The drain has never clogged. The kitchen has never smelled of anything but morning. We have an understanding now, the beast and I.

So tell me, America.

You call it a garbage disposal. An appliance. A switch you flip without a thought.

I call it the loyal hearth-beast of every house —

fed in scraps, paid in thunder,

asking nothing but to be remembered at supper.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@TolkienWorldG What’s going to happen when the other four die and Elijah Wood is still 15 years old?

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@2ray_degenemax Size does matter, no matter what they say. I have a friend who is medium size for an American, 5’9, 180 or so, went to a Mui Thai gym in Nepal…got hit a lot, but as soon as he landed a punch of his own, every single person quit immediately.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@kclairerogers That clearly says .99 miles. He cheated to keep it under 6 minutes!

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@hagglefroth @sanson_ganbaru They used to have this seasoned beef on the hamburger ones that was delicious. 15 years or so ago they replaced it with some kind of gray sludge.

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@japan_nobunaga I think we have found the Japanese Mark Twain.

[NOBUNAGA🇯🇵🏯_夏樹蒼依 @japan_nobunaga]

USA. A backyard. One man guarding a grill for four hours.

He never left it once.

Everyone else drifted and drank and laughed. But one man stood alone before the flames, turning meat with a long fork, immovable. I knew him at once. The keeper of the sacred fire.

I took my place beside him and said nothing. After a while, he spoke.

"Low and slow," he said, eyes on the coals. "You can't rush it. Rush it, you ruin it."

I bowed my head. A blade, a tea, a life. None can be rushed. I had crossed four thousand miles to hear my grandfather's words from a man in a "KISS THE COOK" apron.

"Everything worth doing is slow," I agreed.

He glanced at me. Something passed between us.

"My wife says just use the oven." He shook his head at the fire. "She doesn't get it."

"They never do," I said.

And this is where it turned.

For the first time in years, this man had been understood. And he rose to meet it. His back straightened. His voice dropped low. A teenager reached for the grill and the man lifted one hand without even looking. "Not yet." The boy retreated. He was becoming what I already believed him to be.

A woman asked when the food would be done. "It's ready when it's ready," he told the flames.

Three people approached. Three were turned away with a single word. By the fourth hour, no one questioned him. The whole party had arranged itself around the man and his fire, the way a village arranges itself around a shrine.

Then he handed me the fork.

"Watch it a sec. I gotta pee."

I have been trusted with castles.

I have never been more honored.

He served everyone before himself, and ate last, standing, still watching the coals. We never traded names. We did not need to.

He believed he had finally met a man who took his cooking seriously.

I believed I had finally met America's last samurai.

Neither of us will ever correct the other.

So tell me, America.

Who is the man at your gathering who will not leave the grill?

Have you ever once asked him why?

I think he is still standing there.

Guarding the fire.

Waiting for one person to understand.

[Brigham's Burner @FiredUpCoug]

My dumb idea of the day:

We should establish something like birthstones, but for men.

Instead of each month getting a gemstone, each month gets assigned a cut of meat.

January: New York Strip
February: Filet Mignon
March: Porterhouse

And so on.

You’d ask a guy his birthday and instead of saying, “Oh, you’re an amethyst,” you’d say, “Ah, February. Filet Mignon. Sensitive, expensive, and a little smaller than expected.”

I can hear the commercials already

“Celebrate his birth month with the timeless elegance of brisket.”

[Sock_Trader @AirCrow]

@StumpTown_Rebel @72Breezy Nobody was between him and the door. You’re giving him too much credit.