Hey folks.
This weekend I'll be implementing changes to the way moderators work, so I'll be removing a lot of mods and selecting a handful to moderate.
99.9% of moderators, this has nothing to do with you. I appreciate you. AL of you. Seriously. You do a lot, and I can't moderate chats without a few wrenches there each time. I need mods, especially these days, with health and so much going on.
That said, there's been drama hitting streams. Its absurd, it's channel harmful. And with ongoing health issues, its not something I need. I use streams to keep stress and stupid at bay, to unwind, have fun.
I get people may not like one another, either, and you don't have to. No one requires anyone be friends. When moderators argue and fight with one another or with people in the chat (you know i don't mean the trolls, btw - I mean drama and whatnot), its not good. AND when moderators ban people for personal issues they're having, that can't happen.
I feel like this is one of those no-win situations, where I'd hoped people would just work it out or live and let live. But it isn't, so - yeah. I apologize for posting on this, too. i HATE making posts like this, we're adults.
Robbie goes on an expletive filled attack on the former mod Kimmy complete with threats.
Right out of the barn door, the panel doesn’t just wallow; they belly-flop into the mud like a sounder of prize hogs who’ve just spotted the last trough of expired slop.
They snort, root, and roll around the truth as if redemption itself might be buried under three feet of pure barnyard nonsense.
The two sows on the panel dive in snout-first, squealing “their truth” (or whatever version of it they hope the rest of the farm will swallow) while they wait for the third little piggies to come home after a nice warm bowl of mixed-message mash.
oink
Lipzy, the thinnest pig of the lot, is sporting a bright reddish-orange acrylic wig that looks like it was stolen from a clown’s trunk and then dipped in cheap dye. Her outfit somehow manages to make it appear she’s wearing a fur muff around her neck, though it could just as easily be harsh lighting, a too-tight collar, or the ghosts of bad fashion choices past.
None of that matters, of course, because what’s really powering this sow’s manic outburst tonight is pure unfiltered barnyard drama.
Fleasa, still as rotund and market-ready as a pig who’s been living the high-corn life, knows exactly how to work the yard. She leans back, lets Lipzy run the show, and ...
