Disclaimer: my hatred of geologists is purely theatrical, but if I did have to kill one for some reason, it would be very easy.
I’d brandish my obsidian knife at them and they’d be compelled to approach. “That’s very cool,” they’d say, confident in their superior strength and endurance from all the rocks they carry around at all times. They’d shower me with very interesting facts about obsidian and hover just out of range of the cutting edge, waiting for me to exhaust myself. “But as it is volcanic glass, it’s very fragile, you see, and isn’t well-suited for use as a weap—” and then I’d hit them with the wooden baseball bat in my other hand, which they would not have noticed because geologists can only see rocks and minerals.
Showed my Geologist dad a picture of the obsidian knife you had and he nearly said this exact thing word for word. I can’t believe my own father would fall prey to this. Clearly you know thine enemy
I work too closely with geologists not to have a contingency plan for eliminating them.
What I really like about this is that the containers all have prominent labels with a camera pointing directly at them, but it’s still called a double-blind trial because the researcher isn’t present and the bear can’t read
she was at the club. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that she was at the club.
me: oh man, Joann Fabrics is closing. That’s going to really suck for a lot of people
Sophia, the Victorian ghost who haunts a lamp I bought at Brimfield: not the least among them Joanne. though I suppose her business acumen must have been wanting if she gave the shop her Christian name- it just seems undignified. was that what drove her customers to other establishments?
me: well, nothing- it’s a chain, and in most places, there weren’t any other fabric stores.
Sophia:
Sophia: there weren’t. any other dry goods stores. selling fabric.
me: not usually, no.
Sophia: in a whole town
me: no.
Sophia: and now there will be nowhere to purchase fabric at all in those towns
me: not in person. I guess people can buy it online
Sophia: what if they don’t know what different weaves feel like? how will they learn if they never get to handle them?
me: some places have free swatch service on their websites-
Sophia: so they’ll wait a week or more for a swatch, decide if they like it, then send away for the full amount of goods they need and wait even longer for that? what if they want something finished sooner?
me: they’ll just be frustrated, I guess
Sophia: wait, why did Joanne’s shops close? if she had such a monopoly, surely she’d have made quite a profit regardless of the name
me: an even bigger company bought them and couldn’t use them to make billions of dollars, so they’re forcing them to close
Sophia:
me: wait- PUT MY SNOW SHOVEL DOWN AND STEP AWAY FROM YOUR LAMP
I made this about a different business that was the victim of private equity and I hate that news stories keep coming up where I can use it.
I’m really not trying to sound dramatic or belabor the point, but I think I’m going to feel deeply and plaintively wounded by the 2024 election for the rest of my life.
“Nobody’s going to want to sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours to get from New York City to LA.”
Me. I will sit on high-speed rail for fifteen hours. I’ll sit on it for days. I’ll write and read and nap and eat and then do it all over again. I’ll stare out the windows and see America from ground level and not have to drive. I’ll see the Rockies and the deserts and cornfields and the Mississippi River and your house and yours and yours too. I’ll make up stories in my head about the small towns I see as we go along. I’ll see the states I’ve yet to see because driving or flying there is a fucking slog and expensive to boot. I’ll enjoy the ride as much as the destination. And then I’ll do it all over again to come the fuck home.
Me getting slammed with notifications on this post in particular:
Americans will drive 15 hours, why the hell wouldn’t we take a 15 hour train ride.
amhrancas 