[Checks]
Okay, well, TIL that the legal definition of firearm doesn’t actually include flintlocks, though I’m sure that cops in the US would not bother to make that distinction before going all Judge Dredd and getting applause from bootlickers like in the original post.
“Normal” people don’t bring firearms to a rally
I want to see it all fluffed up for winter.
It kind of sounds like they’re advising you to ditch responsibilities that you don’t think matter in favor of more important-seeming ones, which is the kind of fucked up ladder climbing and damn the consequences that puts sociopaths in most of the positions of power in the world.
Classic projection. From one of you, at least.
Meanwhile, Super High Me is still 100% solid gold cinema.
Also they shouldn’t have called the category of “things that aren’t planets despite being in some ways planet-like” “dwarf planet,” they should have called them “planetoids.” Star Trek had been referring to small planet-like objects as planetoids for decades, so the work in the popular consciousness had already been done. Dwarf planet not being a planet makes it sound like they’re saying dwarf people don’t count as people, and I don’t care for that at all.
Yeah, assuming that a yard is meant to approximate the stride of an adult human, who’s the Goliath-sized motherfucker with the 5’ 3" stride who took a thousand steps and called that a mile?
Edit: Okay, I checked.
The furlong (meaning furrow length) was the distance a team of oxen could plough without resting. This was standardised to be exactly 40 rods or 10 chains.
An English mile is defined as 8 furlongs, 8 presumably being chosen because it divides by 2 and 4. What a cockamamie system of measurement.
Edit Again: Okay, I checked again.
The modern English word mile derives from Middle English myle and Old English mīl, which was cognate with all other Germanic terms for miles. These derived from the nominal ellipsis form of mīlle passus ‘mile’ or mīlia passuum ‘miles’, the Roman mile of one thousand paces.
A pace is a unit of length consisting either of one normal walking step, or of a double step, returning to the same foot.
This is all still very silly.
Never forget:
Man, fuck wild parsnip.
If it turns into a shooting war between the US military and its own civilian populace, apart from the multitude of other unimaginable horrors, you would undoubtedly see countries trying to stoke the flames and make the conflict more involved and expensive for the United States. Hell, I’m pretty well convinced that it’s happening right now; if you were China or Russia or any other hostile foreign actor, you would much rather the United States destroy itself from within than try to confront us directly.
Hey, I got left out of things kids my age were talking about the old-fashioned way, by being a gigantic fucking dork, and it was free, goddammit!
Routines is our friend. Routines takes care of us.
When they gave him the job, they gave him a gun. The Deliverator never deals in cash, but someone might come after him anyway—might want his car, or his cargo. The gun is tiny, aero-styled, lightweight, the kind of a gun a fashion designer would carry; it fires teensy darts that fly at five times the velocity of an SR-71 spy plane, and when you get done using it, you have to plug it into the cigarette lighter, because it runs on electricity.
The Deliverator never pulled that gun in anger, or in fear. He pulled it once in Gila Highlands. Some punks in Gila Highlands, a fancy Burbclave, wanted themselves a delivery, and they didn’t want to pay for it. Thought they would impress the Deliverator with a baseball bat. The Deliverator took out his gun, centered its laser doohickey on that poised Louisville Slugger, fired it. The recoil was immense, as though the weapon had blown up in his hand. The middle third of the baseball bat turned into a column of burning sawdust accelerating in all directions like a bursting star. Punk ended up holding this bat handle with milky smoke pouring out the end. Stupid look on his face. Didn’t get nothing but trouble from the Deliverator.
Since then the Deliverator has kept the gun in the glove compartment and relied, instead, on a matched set of samurai swords, which have always been his weapon of choice anyhow. The punks in Gila Highlands weren’t afraid of the gun, so the Deliverator was forced to use it. But swords need no demonstrations.
–Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson
Map the tonal range of the human voice from 00000, the lowest-pitched, to 99999, the highest-pitched. Sing a note into your microphone that corresponds to your postal code.
EDIT: Make it a Base-36 range so as to allow letters A-Z when they are used in postal codes.
We can’t have universal healthcare, but we can send billions of dollars in military aid to Israel, which does. 🤡