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imagine being a totally random dude and all you want to do is catch some fish and then you get stranded in this weird, gigantic foreign kingdom and they make you the utmost authority on your language and literally all you wanted was to catch fish

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Source

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ben affleck and matt damon are the poor man's nick frost and simon pegg

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it’s so important to me I show you my birthday cake this year

the bakery forgot the s on shrimps so we added it on with a bit of apple

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top tier gas station stickers spotted

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One of the most bizarrely cool people I’ve ever met was an oral surgeon who treated me after a ridiculous accident (that’s another story), Dr. Z.

Dr. Z. was, easily, the best and most competent doctor or dentist I’ve ever encountered – and after that accident, I encountered quite a number. He came stunningly highly recommended, had an excellent record, and the most calming bedside manner I’ve ever seen.

That last wasn’t the sweet gentle caretaking sort of manner, which some nurses have but you wouldn’t expect to see in a surgeon. No; when Dr. Z. told me that one of my broken molars was too badly damaged to save, and I (being seventeen and still moderately in shock) broke down crying, he stared at me incredulously and said, in a tone of utter bemusement, “But – I am very good.”

I stopped crying on the spot. In the last twenty-four hours or so of one doctor after another, no one had said anything that reassuring to me. He clearly just knew his own competence so well that the idea of someone being scared anyway was literally incomprehensible to him. What more could I possibly ask for?

(He was right. The procedure was very extended, because the tooth that needed to be removed was in bits, but there was zero pain at any point. And, as he promised, my teeth were so close together that they shifted to fill the gap to where there genuinely is none anymore, it’s just a little easier to floss on that side.)

But Dr. Z.’s insane competence wasn’t just limited to oral surgery.

When I met Dr. Z., he, like most doctors I’ve had, asked me if I was in college, and where, and what I was studying. When I say “math,” most doctors respond with “oh, wow, good for you” or possibly “what do you want to do with that after college?”

Dr. Z. wanted to know what kind of math.

I gave him the thirty-second layman’s summary that I give people who are foolish enough to ask that. He responded with “oh, you mean–” and the correct technical terms. I confirmed that was indeed what I meant (and keep in mind, this was upper-division college math, you don’t take this unless you’re a math major). He asked cogent follow-up questions, and there ensued ten or so minutes of what I’d call “small talk” except for how it was an intensely technical mathematical discussion.

He didn’t, as far as I can tell, have any kind of formal math background. He just … knew stuff.

I was a competitive fencer at this point in time, so when he asked if I had any questions about the surgery that would be necessary, I asked him if I’d be okay to fence while I had my jaw wired shut, or if it would interfere with breathing.

“Fencing?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “like swordfighting,” because this is another conversation I got to have a lot. (People assume they’ve misheard you, or occasionally they think you mean building fences.)

“Which weapon?”

“Uh. Foil.”

“No, it won’t be safe,” and he went off into an explanation of why.

Turns out, he was also a serious fencer – and, when I mentioned my fencing coach, an old friend of his. (I asked my fencing coach later, and, oh yes, Dr. Z., a good friend of mine, excellent fencer.) (My coach was French. Dr. Z. was Israeli. I never saw Dr. Z. around the club or anything. I have no idea how they knew each other.)

So this was weird enough that later, when I was home, I looked Dr. Z. up on Yelp. His reviews were stellar, of course, but that wasn’t the weird thing.

The weird thing was that the reviews were full of people – professionals in lots of different fields – saying the same thing: I went to Dr. Z. for oral surgery, and he asked me about what I did, and it turned out he knew all about my field and had a competent and educated discussion with me about the obscure technical details of such-and-such.

All sorts of different fields, saying this. Lawyers. Businessmen. Musicians.

As far as I can tell, it’s not that I just happened to be pursuing the two fields he had a serious amateur interest in – he just seemed to be extremely good at literally everything.

I have no explanation for this. Possibly he sold his soul to the devil.

He did a damn good job on my surgery.

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This is an incredible story.

A man assassinates a former prime minister and gives his demands to the government who turn around and go “Actually yeah, these are quite a good ideas.”

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A cover of Billie Eilish's Bad Guy on guqin, pipa, and suona

[eng by me]

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Homura is just straight up one of the weirdest people imaginable. Like, forget about the time loop tragic doomed romance for a bit, I want to see what it looks like if she wins and then actually tries to romance Madoka. She has a massive collection of illegal firearms. She builds her own bombs. She lives in an ultra-modernist white box apartment that she's decorated with a couch made of concentric circles, a giant swinging knife pendulum to remind her of the ever-present flow of time, and a wall of several dozen screens. She communicates primarily in vague and ominous warnings and is more or less incapable of saying anything directly. She addresses everyone she meets by their full name with no honorific which comes across as bizarre and intimidating. If you count time loop years she's 26. She was raised in a catholic orphanage. I want to see her take Madoka on a horrifically bad date and cry in the bathroom partway through when she realizes she's fucking up

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曜変天目茶碗、藤田美術館、大阪

yōhen tenmoku chawan from the Fujita Museum (Osaka) collection

Southern Song, 12th-13th century; National Treasure of Japan

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choose your fav fruit snake