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I swear to god…

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These are all fucking awesome. We should ban phones in schools.

"kids don't pay attention in class anymore Because Of Phone" is so funny as an argument. students haven't paid attention in class since school was invented. my parents' generation were in there making flipbooks out of the corners of their notebooks and doodling random shit instead of taking notes. and they didn't have phones.

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Caves of Qud might just be the only game of all time.

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going to work 😌

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I think there's a thing that has gone unarticulated about rationalists and why they draw the particular ire of nonwhite leftists, so as someone who knows very well this kind of person and what makes them tick from personal experience, let me explain:

The thing about these rationalists, right, is that they see themselves as "balancing" left-wing "instincts" against "the facts" here's the thing. The main "fact" that rationalists are balancing left-wing rhetoric against is their iron-clad belief that white people are superior in every way to non-white people, something they're convinced that everyone "knows" deep down.

To the rationalist, perhaps repelled by the disgusting personal affect of open white-supremacists, the participation of the "farce" of racial equality is a stimulating thought-experiment and a fun piece of theater, and their intellectual engagement with this notion of racial equality makes them better than their boorish ideological cousins in the white nationalist movement.

What makes them deeply uncomfortable, then, is when nonwhite leftists "lose the plot" by beginning to actually believe that our humanity is equal to theirs, and that we have the right to criticize them, overthrow the white-led world order, or imagine a different future for the world than the Davos crowd is pushing for.

They're frustrated that we're committing too hard to the bit, that we've lost sight of the Facts, that white people are just Better than us and it really pisses them off that we won't learn our place and be ideologically subservient to them

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i'm literally the priest's favorite sacrificial lamb because i am so docile and sweet and i hold very still when they put the rope around my neck and i trot along so happily while they lead me to the altar and they do not even have to tie me down because i lie so very still and only bleat once or twice in my lovely lamb voice and when the knife comes down it cuts through me like butter and i offer no resistance and i bleed so prettily all over my new white wool and my guts all unspool like the most beautiful shining yarn and my eyes are animal and dumb and hold no accusation and every time i die i come right back as another little lamb because the priest loves me so so much and he always chooses me for the sacrifice every time and he always places one hand on my small and twitching nose to calm me while he lifts the knife and he doesn't do it for the other lambs only me because i'm his favorite

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Personally i think Cobain would have loved to experience a different three letter acronym that has some pretty magical functionality but that's just me

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You Know What, Fuck This, Fuck You! was a lesser known, short lived NYC based garage rock revival band formed in 1998 and disbanded in 2002 after a series of underperforming EPs. largely considered terrible, YKW,FT,FY! was praised by NME for their “angular guitar riffs and glimpses of beatles-inflected psychedelia”

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this is how i learned the alphabet

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Among his other activities, [Steve Wozniak] collects phone numbers, and his longtime goal has been to acquire a number with seven matching digits. But for most of Woz’s life there were no Silicon Valley exchanges with three matching digits, so Woz had to be satisfied with numbers like 221-1111. Then, one day, while eavesdropping on cell phone calls, Woz begin hearing a new exchange: 888. And then, after more months of scheming and waiting, he had it: 888-8888. This was his new cell-phone number, and his greatest philonumerical triumph. The number proved unusable. It received more than a hundred wrong numbers a day. Given that the number is virtually impossible to misdial, this traffic was baffling. More strange still, there was never anybody talking on the other end of the line. Just silence. Or, not silence really, but dead air, sometimes with the sound of a television in the background, or somebody talking softly in English or Spanish, or bizarre gurgling noises. Woz listened intently. Then, one day, with the phone pressed to his ear, Woz heard a woman say, at a distance, “Hey, what are you doing with that?” The receiver was snatched up and slammed down. Suddenly, it all made sense: the hundreds of calls, the dead air, the gurgling sounds. Babies. They were picking up the receiver and pressing a button at the bottom of the handset. Again and again. It made a noise: “Beep beep beep beep beep beep beep.” The children of America were making their first prank call. And the person who answered the phone was Woz.

“The World According to Woz” in Wired (September 1998)