Jim McRib
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jimmello.bsky.social
Jim McRib
@jimmello.bsky.social
930 followers 310 following 2.4K posts
Gene Hackman in Night Moves (1975). He/Him. patreon.com/jimmello
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jimmello.bsky.social
neighbor’s only decorations. psychotic
A photo of a Santa Mickey and Elf Minion decoration in someone’s front lawn
December 1, 2025 at 12:29 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
Copy from post. It reads: The heart must be a cage. It exists in the tension between the opening and the closing. And if it closes, if you allow it to be closed, it's very hard to get back open because it tends to have been locked from the outside.
November 30, 2025 at 7:29 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
me (jacked, kind, stupid as hell) hanging with my buddy (knows the difference between electronic cords, good at math)
George Reeves Superman shaking hands with a boxy robot)
November 30, 2025 at 2:25 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
The Atlantic was covering for genocide. No surprises here.
November 29, 2025 at 2:57 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
The Star Wars cast at the ending of A New Hope in the throne room
November 21, 2025 at 8:52 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
🫡🫡🫡
A post about Buzz Grambo liked by Buzz Grambo himself
November 20, 2025 at 6:37 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
Sorry, brother, one more
Gay Perry from Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
November 19, 2025 at 2:24 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
Text from OP’s patreon post. It reads: Joan You look like a drink. You look like a cigarette, lit. A cigarette inhaled, pushed from lungs into fabric. There is some of you in my fabric. Your voice comes at a high sierra squeak. California accent but something plain in it. California before Hollywood. Before any of it knew what it was. Knew what it would be. You pulled the shape and tone of your words from Donner Party ancestors, mixed it with a Katharine Hepburn transatlanticism. Drinking is a way of telling time. You tell time in glasses. In bottles. The drink disappears slowly like a reverse hourglass and the day climbs slower, and evening comes, crouches down, looks in on you at your typewriter, at your notepad, at your word processor. All the girls I love look like a drink. Look like a cigarette, lit. You sit there, lamplit, and drink and smolder until night finally comes to put you out.
November 16, 2025 at 3:01 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
I drew this prototype clock for winter
A badly drawn clock face where every number clockwise after four is 9
November 16, 2025 at 12:48 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
Joyce Carol Oates on twitter
In the first frame: scene from Fellowship of the Ring where Aragorn salutes the oncoming horde of Uruk-hai with his sword Frame two: he begins to body each and every one of them
November 12, 2025 at 2:40 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
Lao Che from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom holding up the antidote to the poison Indiana Jones just drank while his cronies laugh
November 10, 2025 at 10:07 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
ahem
OP skeet saying “he’s gonna post about a book he never read in 24 hours” in reference to Joyce Carol Oates accusing Elon Musk of not reading
November 10, 2025 at 7:09 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
Some loose thoughts on Robert Frost’s “Christmas Trees,” and how and life are measured (or shouldn’t be measured)
November 9, 2025 at 3:17 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
so called free thinkers when they realize their wife has rich interior sexual life
Tom Cruise angrily walking down a New York street in Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut (which fucking rules)
November 8, 2025 at 8:55 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
November 8, 2025 at 3:28 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
Homer’s author picture on the Amazon page
November 7, 2025 at 2:32 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
Never has a man ever earned a “shut the fuck up” more
November 5, 2025 at 4:10 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
I think one of these days, hopefully soon, people will figure out that unsensible socialism eradicated housing issues, illiteracy rates, healthcare fears, and hunger in the countries in which it was practiced even if for just a time
November 5, 2025 at 1:19 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
hmm not so sure he did
Email from Spotify with the Subject: Ray Charles made you something special
November 4, 2025 at 5:23 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
Wrote about baseball for the patrons recently
Text from the OPs piece. It reads: It would have surprised me over a year ago to hear the language of baseball coming out of my mouth. To talk about series and closers or bottom of the fifteenth extra innings. But my attraction to baseball started with language. Any language around a sub-culture is amorous by definition. It comes from love, the need to overpower inertia in order to describe something meaningful but singular. Language is what we invent when the body is no longer enough. When precision is needed in order to relieve an urgency of feeling. I am attracted to that compulsion, its obsessive quality. It's a quality found in baseball and its fans.
November 2, 2025 at 7:16 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡
November 2, 2025 at 1:13 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
Text from OPs letter. It reads: Donation is a necessity for research, for autoimmune disease, but there is a reason you rarely see Plasma Donor t-shirts worn by gentle fathers. Donating blood, relatively fast and simple, is altruistic. Donating plasma for the money is shameful. It is a desperate act. The poor are here for the harvest, and in the harvesting, they rarely seed the means of escape from poverty. A for-profit society can only reduce the individual, even if the profit is adjacent to something collectively good. If you value time, appraise hours, minutes, seconds like precious stones, to mark an hour in which the body must occupy a specific time and place for a sell price will always feel too high. Even at larger amounts. To see the number you sell your life for is to take the human spirit, delicate as a single grape, and crush it with a stone. There is something anti-life about this. There is a world where plasma donation is normal because it is necessary and people are educated on its necessity and why they should donate freely if they can, and not as a desperate, shameful act to make sure your kids have food on the table or you won't fall behind on your car payments and lose your means to go to work in the first place. I read something the other day that referred to plasma donation as a "booming industry." The boom here relies on the desperation of the poor. The boom here derives from the terror of not being able to live. The boom sounds like a form of war-profiteering because it is.
October 26, 2025 at 2:54 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
Goodnight to the kid reading Sartre’s No Exit from Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives only
Girl sleeping in her bunk with Sartre’s No Exit on her chest
October 23, 2025 at 4:17 AM
jimmello.bsky.social
That time again
A picture of the opening page of Ray Bradbury’s The Halloween Tree. It reads: Chapter 1 It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn't so much wilderness around you couldn't see the town. But on the other hand there wasn't so much town you couldn't see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees. And dry grass and dead flowers now that autumn was here. And full of fences to walk on and sidewalks to skate on and a large ravine to tumble in and yell across. And the town was full of... Boys. And it was the afternoon of Halloween. And all the houses shut against a cool wind. And the town full of cold sunlight. But suddenly, the day was gone. Night came out from under each tree and spread.
October 22, 2025 at 10:11 PM
jimmello.bsky.social
This moment always tears me up
Scene from Star Wars Episode III Revenge of the Sith when Obi-Wan is monologue at a guy who is burning alive
October 22, 2025 at 5:48 PM