Commensurate
The fact that our task is exactly commensurate with our life gives it the appearance of being infinite.
Commensurate by SomeRandomKid June 29, 2014
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Commensurate
"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate."
Commensurate by OnlySlightlyConfused February 19, 2021
Nothing you are doing is commensurate with anything I said
You're not winning a conflict against me. You're not doing my strategy by doing this to me. To the extent that people ARE doing it they are thriving and surviving. But this is not that. You are trying to add parameters to my situation that do need to be there and you have no right to impose. Because I framed whether or not your kids were murdered by the weaponized schizophrenia as a game that we either both win or we both lose and WE FUCKING LOST because of you and NOT ME. Or broke even at least. I mean, I need the 3rd party verification to do any more than I did and all you did was tell people that I was lying for attention.
Hym "Nothing you are doing is commensurate with anything I said. This isn't whatever the hell you are trying to call it and it is, in fact, the thing I said it was."
Nothing you are doing is commensurate with anything I said by Hym Iam December 13, 2025
fogey
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)