Seriously. Skip it for a second. The audience is curious. Why is my brown ass an ally of someone who is gonna be so cavalier when we’re both dodging brown shirts? So that I don’t rather find you and hand you the length of rope before you’re dragging me and mine with you, answer the fucking question these better adjusted fucks are asking. After Orange Fas–fuck it actually, pass the shrooms and see you in the mass grave.
It is 12:30 PM. I am reading this exchange with no emotion until this comment. I have been stirred to tell you this: “Fuck you, Promethiel whispered calmly”.
‘Made in “His” image’ is clear; to be anxious is to be divine.
It’s making it, from the tons of hydrogen it has in the fusion process. The energy and the reason stars even do this is because all of that mass that close together spontaneously does that; starts fusing.
We can’t have any, because a star will use up all the hydrogen to make helium, then start using all of the helium to make carbon and oxygen. Then start to make…
This is overly simplified and it varies from star to star (the more massive the star, the longer it churns through “making” elements into more “complex” elements) until its core is all iron, at which point fusion becomes a net negative.
From there other things can happen like novae. All throughout this life process though, that “elemental conversion” is happening faster on the outside as opposed to the core, and stellar winds do blow off heavier elements that enrich the interstellar medium.
We need a shovel that can plunge into the sun’s core if we want its helium, TL;DR.
“Reality is stranger than fiction,” is not merely pith, but as grim and perverse a promise as “May you live in interesting times,” is.
Are people not allowed to point out the corn nuggets in the shit sandwich without being mocked by you? Do you know more about that commenter than you’re letting on or do you just enjoy unloading on would be allies?