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This Week In Weird Twitter, Volume 73

Let’s take a trip through the Hundred Acre Wood.


Beneath the shards and fragments littering the ground, we’ll soon find the shoots. The seedlings. First we’ll have to endure winter; the remnants of fall demand it. The anger and the vitriol, the scorching hot takes and wicked pwns of campaign 2016 fertilizing the earth. Then, we’ll emerge from our angry hibernation, like a bear who tossed and turned with heartburn the entire time. Remember: we have friends, and those friends have honeypots.

Summer and fall will fade into spring, a moment of rebirth. A glorious and fertile season of promise and possibility. The naysayers will remain, but even they will be susceptible to her charms. Even the gloomiest of gloomies will be forced to admit it’s a season of renewal and happenings.

“I might have known,” said Eeyore. “After all, one can’t complain. I have my friends. Somebody spoke to me only yesterday. And was it last week or the week before that Rabbit bumped into me and said ‘Bother!’ The Social Round. Always something going on.”

To which I reply.

Don’t get overexcited, though.

As long as there’s a plan backing it up this is nothing to worry about.

Always have a strategy.

And if you don’t have a strategy, the classics are there for you.

This isn’t going to win any friends, but it may influence people.

If our friends didn’t provoke this response, can we even really call them friends?

The future is murky, though.

Before renewal, we must cleanse ourselves.

And accept the consequences.

It is, with a new honeypot. Don’t hate.

Okay then.

Tell me more, I’m intrigued.

Look, we’re friends. I don’t see the need for all these questions.

Nor a need for all these facts.

Kinda violent for the Hundred Acre Wood.

What the hell, Pooh?

It was a magic trick gone wrong.

But with the right response, it’s gonna be alright.

We’d really rather not.

Don’t we all. Also, vengeful bears. Those, too.

You’re ready.

What we get for not building our house out of bricks.

How about a bowl of porridge at just the right temp?

This mattress is too firm.

*Herbie Hancock’s “Axel-F” comes blasting out of the speakers*

Tough, but fair. They didn’t give up the softest bed, either.

You got up there.

I’m not sure this is how parkour works.

Sometimes, the hottest porridge is the answer.

Houses made of straw and sticks? I got time.

The big bad wolf knows how to set the mood.

Maybe the aria is in your head, Eeyore.

This version actually makes more sense.

As them if they need to phone home.

This is an argument against keeping them as pets.

The Tao of Pooh is strong with this one.

The best meetings are short and sweet anyway.

Don’t be afraid of change, but remember your traditions.

She’s truly an artist.

Things are getting out of hand.

I guess they’re not the James Bonds of flightless birds after all.

For penguins?

That’s the Pooh spirit!

Rookie move, bro.

I had a question, but never mind.

What if I, like a certain bear, am wearing a shirt, but nothing from the waist down?

Thus we enjoy our pie and remember that, though winter is coming, so is spring. We can hibernate; we can do this. We just have to channel our inner pants-less bear and spread love and affection everywhere we go.

“That’s right,” said Eeyore. “Sing. Umty-tiddly, umty-too. Here we go gathering Nuts and May. Enjoy yourself.” “I am,” said Pooh.” That’s when he got a glint in his eye and stretched out his claws.