#like if he went to toyota in like 2018

[robinfrinjs]

Sometimes I think about the fact Robin was close to a Toyota LMP1 seat but went to race in DTM instead cuz Ekström left

[cashonlys]

⊹₊⟡⋆ HOYEON JUNG  +  SHE / HER  ⊹₊⟡⋆ blasting first love/late spring by mitski through their airpods is  nari yoon  . oh , you don’t know them ? they’re the [ twenty six ] year old  model  who just went viral for [ snoring while getting her makeup done at a photoshoot ] . yup , the one that drives a  2018 toyota prius  . i hear they’re pretty reliable  , but others have claimed that they’re quite  -judgmental  . that makes sense , considering they’re often labeled as the old soul  .

links tba .

musings wishlist visage headcanons

bulletpoints .

nari is the daughter of a 90s supermodel. though he's only famous in association with her mother, her father is a tech billionaire.

nari really never had the chance to question if she enjoys modeling. she started before she hit puberty and has been at it ever since. she doesn't know what else she would do besides modeling.

a lot of her identity is wrapped up in her mother's success. publicly, the media constantly compares her to her mom. privately, she tries to appease her. making sure her hair is always done, standing up straight, being gracious with her parents' acquaintances, not doing anything that would be perceived as bringing shame to the family name... her and her mom are pretty enmeshed. after all, her mother is an aging model who can only live vicariously through her past.

nari has always been the responsible one. her sibling is a bit of a shitshow (i'm thinking an older brother, will submit as a wc later). she never really got attention at home outside of making her mom happy by modeling and making both of her parents happy by being the exact opposite of her sibling. of course she's going to fall in line if it means getting a pat on the head.

she's openly sapphic. i haven't decided if she's bi or gay, but she's definitely more sapphic leaning than anything. she hasn't made any public statement about her sexuality, but she doesn't hide her girlfriends from the paparazzi either.

she can be a bit pretentious. sometimes she thinks she's the only rich kid who isn't constantly partying. she's a bit of a pick me, but for parental approval instead of men. can be quite sarcastic and negative.

aesthetic is a healthy balance of academia and glitz.

constantly tired. most likely to say yes to an opportunity or a favor just because she hates disappointing people. without makeup, she has dark eyebags. probably has been hospitalized for exhaustion once or twice.

she's not very good at letting her guard down on a basic level. like, if you ask her if you have something in your teeth, she'll probably lie if she doesn't know you well. can be kind of cold. she tries to say whatever she thinks people want to hear, but some people see through it. i mostly see people who are inclined to like her falling for it. think her parents' friends at their parties and interviewers.

outdoorsy (in a non-athletic way) and bookish.

app stuff .

nari is afraid of the vigilante. how could she not be? they're after her father's associates; her mother's longtime friends. she keeps begging her parents to move somewhere off the grid with her and her siblings, but they won't listen. as someone prone to side-eyeing her peers, she understands the killer's motives. playing armchair psychologist has only made a few point their fingers at her. as much understanding as she may have for the killer, she's hellbent on following the rules and, ultimately, murder is wrong. nari is the daughter of a 90s supermodel. thrust into the modeling world young, she didn't have a chance to develop many interests and she followed in her mother's footsteps. the media constantly compares her to her mom to create hype. before nari was born, her mother married the ceo of a tech company, taking the term 'nepo baby' to new heights. aesthetic: complaining but ultimately doing exactly as asked, wearing a jacket as an accessory no matter how hot it is, gold eye masks, taking yourself too seriously, venting on instagram, carrying coffee around like a pet, showing more warmth for plants than your neighbors

[coffeewithcalypso]

My car's whole transmission went out about three weeks ago. My car is a 2018 though admittedly has 120k miles on it. It had 104k when I bought it which is why I almost didn't but my dad (who had ulterior motives because he wanted to buy my car at the time for my mom) talked me into it.

"It's a Toyota, 100k miles is nothing, it'll drive forever"

I bought an extended warranty. And thank fucking god I did. Putting aside the headache of a two and a half week wait just for the parts to come in, the price when everything was said and done was TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS (technically $9800). That's more than half of what I bought the car for two years ago. I've never been more glad I bought a warranty (it only added like $20 a month to my note) but what are we doing guys? Like if you had told me 5-6k I would have said that seems on the high end but still in the range I would have guessed. 10k???

Surely we're going to be overthrowing this whole capitalism thing soon right?

[toxickehlani]

𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗢𝗳 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘁

║ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛ･* – 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

║ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ･* – 𝖬𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾.

║ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ･* – 𝟥,𝟦𝟥𝟥

║ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ･* – 𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗍 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗀𝖾, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, ＆𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾.

║ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ/ᴘᴀʀᴛ･* – 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖵💘: 𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝖳𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗈

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ .༺ ♥︎ ༻ ࣭ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Michelle's POV

𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗘 now, getting another tattoo has been on my mind. It was a good thing that Diego's cousin Santino owns a shop and does fantastic work, in my opinion. Today, I invited the girls to tag along and go to Santino’s shop with me. I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and changed into an off-white ribbed sleeveless romper, a green long-sleeve oversized shirt, and Nike Air Jordan 1 mid 'Pine Green.'

As I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom doing my makeup, I felt a smack on my ass, making me turn around and glare at my boyfriend, Diego.

"Boy, stop playing too much," I said, laughing at him.

"What do you expect? You're sticking it out there for me." He grinned, standing behind me, gripping and pulling my hips against his.

Diego continued grinding against me, and I could feel his dick growing harder. I had to admit he felt damn good and had my panties damp, but I had plans with my girls today.

"Look, if you keep on, you will use the five fingers on your hand." I teased, looking at him through the mirror.

"Like always." Diego retorted, gripping my ass cheek.

"If you stop, I'll suck you off when I get back," I replied, glancing back at my boyfriend.

Diego stared at me, biting my bottom lip, turned me around, and wrapped his arms around my waist. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine, and I couldn't help but kiss him back, sucking on his tongue. His hands cupped my ass, squeezing the flesh between his fingers. A moan escaped my mouth as he backed me against the counter. I wanted to say fuck it so bad, but I promised the girls we would hang out after my tattoo appointment.

Before we got too heated, I had to put my hand on Diego's mouth and push him away. He went to pull my hand away, but my phone started ringing. I laughed as my boyfriend started kissing my neck. Grabbing my phone, I answered it.

Hello?

daymaker🩵😹 - Be ready. I'm on my way.

Okay, I will.

daymaker🩵😹 - Don't let Diego's horny ass hold you back, either.

I hear you, Jessibelle, I won't bye.

daymaker🩵😹 - Bye.

Tossing my phone to the side, I maneuvered away from my insatiable boyfriend, making him groan as I walked out of the bathroom.

"You better run, or you won't get to your tattoo appointment!" I hear Diego yell in frustration.

I knew his dick was hard by the tone in his voice, and that made me giggle. "I love you too."

As I slipped a green baseball cap on my head, I grabbed my green bag and headed out the door. Pressing the button for the elevator, I stood and waited for it to arrive. When the metal doors opened, I stepped on the machine and rode down to the lobby.

daymaker🩵😹 - I'm outside.

Here I come.

daymaker🩵😹 - Kk💋.

Walking through the doors, I saw Jessibelle's 2018 blue Toyota Camry XSE parked there. I opened the car door and climbed in the backseat.

"Let me guess. Diego was trying to hold you back." Amelia teased, smirking at me.

"Girl, yes, he started kissing my neck, thinking that would make me stay," I explained, shaking my head.

"Would you have stayed?" Jessibelle asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

"Yes, I would've. Diego has me in the mood to fuck, but I remembered I have an appointment with Amelio." I replied, smiling at her.

"If you didn't have the appointment, you two would've been going rounds, huh?" Cassandra inquired, laughing at me.

"Hell yeah," I responded, making the girls laugh. "I think I'm going to start ovulating soon or something."

"Does he want a baby or something?" Jessibelle asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Yes, he has bad baby fever," I answered before my phone dinged in my bag.

It was a message from Diego. Is he lonely already? I just left the house. Clicking on our conversation, what I saw made me gasp. The text he just sent me was a ten-second video of him stroking himself. What is wrong with this man? Does he think doing this is okay?

Amelia saw the expression on my face and asked, "What's wrong?"

"This pendejo just sent me a video of him stroking his dick, and it's taking everything in me not to tell Jessibelle to turn the car around," I explained, whining as I leaned my head against the back of the passenger seat headrest.

"When?" Cassandra gasped, looking at me.

"A minute ago," I responded, poking my bottom lip out in a pout.

"Are you that horny?" Jessibelle asked, glancing at me as she approached a red light.

"Yes, when it comes to my man. I love getting stretched open by him." I nodded, answering her.

"You nasty puta." Cassandra laughed, smacking my thigh. "But I know that feeling."

"When they first slide it in. It is the best feeling." Amelia admitted, making us laugh.

"You're not lying, though." Jessibelle grinned, smacking her hand on the steering wheel. "It does feel good."

"Okay, let's stop before I have to reschedule my appointment," I said, leaning back as I replied to Diego with a clip from my camera roll.

Smirking, I stared out the window as Jessibelle drove to my tattoo appointment. Arriving at Stellar Ink, Jessibelle parked in front of the building, and we got out. When we walked inside, the girls sat down while I stood at the reception desk. Soon, a girl around my age emerged from the back. That's when I realized it was Santino's girlfriend, Caralina.

She had her head down on her phone. "Welcome to Stellar Ink. How can I help you?" When she looked up, she smiled, seeing that it was me. Michelle?"

"Yes, chica, it's me," I replied, smiling at her.

"¿Cómo estás? Ha pasado un tiempo." Caralina asked, walking from around the counter to hug me. ( "How are you? It's been a while." )

"I've been good. Dealing with Diego and his baby fever." I answered, rolling my eyes.

"Still?" She questioned, widening her eyes in shock.

"Unfortunately, yes." I nodded, sighing through my nose. "I have an appointment with Santino to get my hand tattooed."

"Okay, he's already in the back. I'll go get him." Caralina responded, pointing behind her shoulder.

Nodding, I stood there and waited until she and Santino came to the front. When he saw me, a wide grin appeared on his face.

"Michelle, how's it going?" He asked, opening his arms wide and allowing me to hug him.

"I'm doing well. I'm excited about this tattoo," I replied, clapping my hands.

"Well, let's go back and get started," Santino said, nodding for me to follow him. "I already drew the design."

"I'll be back," I told the girls, following behind Santino to his station.

He grabbed a folder and pulled out the tattoo drawing before showing it to me. I was speechless. No words would come out of my mouth.

"I'm assuming you like it." Santino laughed, making me look up at him.

"Fuck yea. I love it." I gasped, nodding as I grinned. "This tattoo is sexy as fuck."

"Let's get this shit started." He said, placing black latex gloves on his hands.

Sitting in the chair, I relaxed my left arm on the wide armrest as Santino gathered his supplies and got to work. He began with the tattoo's outline, which hurt some parts of my hand. The entire time, my eyes followed the direction of the gun. After some time, I looked up to see Jessibelle walking toward me.

"You feeling okay?" She asked, staring at my hand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It hurts a little bit." I nodded, wincing as Santino started shading in the outline.

Finally, around three hours later, with a break in between, Santino finished my tattoo. He wiped the excess ink off before rubbing petroleum jelly on the fresh ink and wrapping plastic wrap around it.

"Damn, that looks sexy as hell." Jessibelle complimented, nodding her head in approval.

"Thanks," I replied, smiling at her.

Following Santino to the front, I pulled out my wallet, ready to pay him. "How much do I owe you?"

"For you at three hundred," Santino replied as I counted the cash and handed it to him.

I grabbed an additional one hundred dollar bill and placed it in the tip jar. "Here's a tip, too."

"Thanks, Michelle. I appreciate it." He nodded, smiling at me.

"You're welcome. Thanks again." I responded, pulling him into a hug.

"No problem." He said, shaking his head.

After waving goodbye to Santino and his fiancé, the girls and I left his tattoo shop and got in Jessibelle's car. My stomach was growling, and right as I opened my mouth to say something, Cassandra beat me to it.

"Why don't we go get something to eat?" Cassandra suggested, looking at us in the car.

"I'm down," I replied, nodding to the girls.

"Oh, let's go to Sixty Vines," Amelia said, pulling out her phone. "They should be serving lunch about now."

"Oh yes, let's go." I gasped, nodding my head.

Jessibelle nodded before changing lanes and turning left, driving down a street. Arriving at Sixty Vines, we exited the car and entered the restaurant. After requesting a table, a hostess led us to our table, handed us menus, and walked away. I looked over the choices and thought everything looked good. As I went to say something, my phone started ringing.

I went to look at the screen and saw that Diego was calling me, so I answered it.

Hello?

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Are you still getting your tattoo?

No, I'm with the girls getting food. What's up?

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Where are you girls getting food?

Sixty Vines.

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Can you bring me a Double Stack Vines Burger?

With everything on it?

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Yes.

Okay, I'll order it before we leave.

My Forever❤️🗝️ - Thank you. Te amo.

Besos.

After I hung up the phone, I sat it on the table as a waitress approached our table with a notepad and pen.

"Hello and welcome to Sixty Vines. My name is Iris. Can I start you ladies off with drinks?" The waitress around my age asked,

"I'll have an iced tea," I replied, staring at my menu.

"Can you give me a Sprite?" Amelia ordered, smiling at the waitress.

"Can I have pink lemonade?" Jessibelle questioned, looking up from the menu.

"I'll have the same as her," Cassandra said, pointing to Jessibelle beside her.

"Okay, I'll be back with your drinks and take your food orders," Our waitress replied, smiling before walking away.

As we continued scanning the menu, Cassandra said something that made me look at her, arching an eyebrow.

"Out of the four of us, who do you think will get married first?" Cassandra asked with a grin on her face.

"I'd say either Michelle or Amelia because they've been with their partners the longest." Jessibelle nodded, answering her question.

"I'd say Michelle because they're already talking about babies." Amelia smiled, responding to our friend.

"You could be right." Cassandra narrowed her eyes as she rubbed her chin.

"Well, whichever comes first, I'm good with it," I said, shrugging my shoulders.

"Are you ready to have mini Diego's running around?" Jessibelle inquired, nudging my arm.

"No one is ready for kids, but if it happens right now, it happens," I explained, taking my cap off and ruffling my hair. "If I'm honest, I've wanted one, but I'm scared to lose my body shape."

"Girl. Don't you know that having a baby, especially your first one, makes you thicker?" Cassandra commented, making me roll my eyes.

"Why does Diego say the same thing?" I questioned, laughing at them.

"Because it's true." Amelia and Jessibelle said in unison at the same time.

   I rolled my eyes and said, "I don't know, maybe, but we'll see.”

"I'd think you and Diego make some cute babies," Jessibelle commented, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, thank you." I nodded, running my hands through my hair.

   Within minutes, our beverages arrived, and our waitress wrote down our food orders and left the table again. Finally, the girls and I ate and talked once our food arrived. Getting out of the house and spending time together always felt good. Before we got ready to pay the tab, I ordered Diego's meal and added it to my check. Once we paid for everything, the girls and I grabbed our food bags and left the restaurant.

   After Jessibelle dropped off Cassandra, it was my turn to head home. Arriving at my apartment, I unlocked the door before walking inside and setting my things down. As I entered the living room, I saw Diego sitting on the couch, watching a basketball game with his hands in his pants.

"Why do you constantly keep doing that?" I asked my boyfriend, locking the front door.

"It's comfortable." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"It looks like you're masturbating or something." I laughed, handing him the bag with his food in it.

   Diego ripped the bag open, pulled the white box inside, and bit into his burger.

"Thank you, baby." Diego said, kissing my cheek.

"Eww. You're welcome." I cringed, wiping my cheek and smiling at him.

   I got comfortable on the sofa and relaxed with Diego. We talked as he ate most of his food and watched Netflix movies together. After about two hours, I grew sleepy and wanted to go to bed. Heading to my attached bathroom, I turned on the shower. Once the water was at the perfect temperature, I wrapped my hand up, stripped off my clothes, and stepped inside.

   The water felt so good, hitting my skin as I stood under the shower head. After a couple of minutes, I grabbed my lilac mesh sponge and started to wash my body. I followed up with rinsing off before turning the water off, stepping out, and wrapping a towel around myself. As I walked into the bedroom, I quickly moisturized my skin since I had some privacy. When I slipped on a black modal sports bra from Ethika, I heard my boyfriend's footsteps.

"Don't put any bottoms on," Diego said, biting his bottom lip as he stared at me.

"Why?" I asked, staring at him confused.

"We have some unfinished business." He replied, licking his lips as he stared at my lower half.

"Says who?" I responded, watching him slip his tank top off.

"Me. Don't think I forgot about the clip you sent me earlier." Diego said, wrapping his arms around me.

"What about the one you sent me first?" I mentioned, feeling my boyfriend grip my ass through my towel.

"Mmm, we can get back at each other now." He smirked, pressing his lips to mine.

   My giggle turned into a moan as Diego backed me up to our bed, and my body hit the soft mattress. His heavy body nestled between my legs, and I could feel his dick rubbing against my bare clit. Did he have boxers on? The sensation made me clench around nothing as my pussy was leaking. It felt so good.

"I guess I have no choice now, huh?" I questioned when Diego pulled away, resting his forehead against mine.

"Duh," My boyfriend smiled, biting his bottom lip.

As Diego laid on his front between my thighs, he spread my legs open, holding them down by the back of my knees. He licked a thick stripe up my folds before sucking my clit in his mouth. I moaned, throwing my head back and holding my legs open as he feasted on pussy.

"Tu lengua se siente tan bien." I whimpered, resting my left hand on the back of my boyfriend's head. ("Your tongue feels so good." )

Diego's skillful tongue traced the length of my pussy before gently sucking my clit into his mouth. My hips bucked against his mouth as he devoured me.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," He rasped, voice thick with lust. "I can spend an eternity down here." My boyfriend's hands gripped the fat of my thighs before his fingers spread my lips open and continued to eat me into oblivion.

The next thing I knew, my back arched off the bed as I cried out in bliss when my orgasm hit me. Diego pulled away, pushed himself up to his knees between my legs, and slowly sank inside of me. The stretch felt so good that my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

"Fuck, baby." I gasped, pressing my hand on his lower stomach as he hit deep.

He groaned as he pulled out and pushed back in, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the room as he moved at a brisk pace.

"You're so tight," Diego muttered, his hands now cupping my breasts, squeezing them.

As my boyfriend thrusts deeper, his dick brushed against that sweet spot that made me see stars every time. "Diego papi... you feel so good. Keep going just like that." Diego had legs spread open as I lay there, a moaning mess.

My nails dug into the skin on his wrists as I clenched around him. "You feel so fucking good, mamita. The way your pussy hugs me makes me loco."

All I could do was moan and succumb to the pleasure spreading throughout my body. I licked two fingers on my right hand, reached down between us, and rubbed my clit in sloppy circles making my breath hitch in my throat. Diego's dick began hitting deeper inside of me, causing my toes to curl.

"That's it. Right there!" I cried out, feeling my second orgasm of the night approaching.

Suddenly, I felt Diego's hand find its way around my throat and gently squeeze it, causing me to cry out.

"That's it. Come for papí." My boyfriend groaned, leaning down to smash his lips to mine.

His thrusts slowed down before he pulled out of me all the way and smacked my ass. "Ow! Don't hit my ass so hard."

"Quédate callado y date la vuelta." Diego chuckled, smacking my ass cheek hard again. ( "Be quiet and turn over." )

I whined, turning around on my stomach and arching my back. Diego played with my wetness before sinking his fingers inside of me, making me moan. He laughed, sticking them Im his mouth and sucking my juices off of them. My boyfriend teased my sensitive pussy with the head of his dick before pushing inside of me again. In this position, I could feel him pounding against the spot within me.

"Holy shit, baby." I cried out, grasping the sheets in my hands.

"You feel me in there, huh? So deep inside of you." Diego murmured in my ear, biting my earlobe.

"Sí! I feel it, papí!" I nodded as Diego pulled me up by my neck and kissed my forehead.

"Oh, mamita, you feel so good. I'm gonna give you all my babies." My boyfriend grunted, slapping my ass cheek.

"I want it, papí." I moaned, biting my bottom lip.

He smiled, pressing a final kiss to my face before pushing me down to the mattress and roughly thrusting inside of me. The sound of our sweaty skin slapping each other echoed off the walls, along with my cries of pleasure. Diego moaned and groaned above me, spanking my ass raw and red. His hands gripped my hips tighter, pounding all of his stress away in my cunt.

"Oh fuck, I can't wait until you get pregnant," Diego whispered in my ear.

He grunted from above me and stilled as his hot sticky cum coated my gushy walls. Diego ignited my body in pleasure always has. As he pulled out of me, I lay there heavily, breathing on my way to sleep. Usually, Diego would clean me off, but tonight, he wanted to make sure I ended up pregnant.

"You're supposed to clean me off. Now I'm going to wake up sticky." I said, smacking the back of my boyfriend's head.

"I want to make sure that it takes." He replied, smiling at me.

"I'm not even ovulating," I responded, shaking my head.

"You don't have to ovulate to get pregnant." My boyfriend sighed, rolling his eyes.

Diego wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer as he got comfortable. I softly chuckled, rubbing his arm as we both fell asleep, exhausted.

[ebelal56-blog]

Desire for Success: Elon Musk's Innovation

Elon Musk, the name that has become synonymous with innovation, ambition, and controversy in the business world. From his humble beginnings in South Africa to his current status as one of the most influential figures in the tech industry, Musk's journey is nothing short of extraordinary. Born in Pretoria, South Africa in 1971, Musk showed an early interest in technology and entrepreneurship. At the age of 12, he sold his first video game, a space-themed shooter called Blastar, for $500. This early success foreshadowed Musk's future as a serial entrepreneur. After studying physics and economics at the University of Pennsylvania, Musk moved to California to pursue a Ph.D. in energy physics at Stanford University. However, he dropped out after just two days to pursue his entrepreneurial dreams. In 1995, Musk co-founded Zip2, a software company that provided business directories and maps to newspapers. The company was eventually sold to Compaq for $307 million, netting Musk a substantial profit. With his newfound wealth, Musk went on to co-found X.com, an online payment company that would later become PayPal. In 2002, PayPal was acquired by eBay for $1.5 billion, making Musk even richer. But Musk was not content to rest on his laurels. In 2002, he founded SpaceX, a private aerospace manufacturer and space transportation company with the goal of reducing the cost of space travel and eventually colonizing Mars. Despite facing numerous setbacks and near-bankruptcy in the early years, SpaceX eventually became a major player in the aerospace industry. In 2008, SpaceX became the first privately-funded company to successfully launch a rocket into orbit. Since then, SpaceX has launched numerous successful missions, including resupply missions to the International Space Station and the deployment of the Starlink satellite constellation. In addition to SpaceX, Musk also co-founded Tesla Motors in 2003 with the goal of accelerating the world's transition to sustainable energy. Tesla's electric cars quickly gained a reputation for their performance and innovation, with models like the Model S and Model 3 becoming best-sellers in their respective categories. In 2020, Tesla became the most valuable car company in the world, surpassing traditional automakers like Toyota and Volkswagen. But Musk's ambitions don't stop there. In 2016, he founded Neuralink, a neurotechnology company focused on developing brain-computer interfaces. Musk believes that such technology is essential for humanity to keep pace with the rapid advancements in artificial intelligence. Similarly, Musk founded The Boring Company in 2016 with the goal of reducing traffic congestion through the construction of underground tunnels for transportation. Musk's success has not come without controversy, however. He has been criticized for his management style, which some describe as demanding and autocratic. Musk has also faced legal troubles, including a defamation lawsuit in 2018 and an investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission in 2019. Despite these challenges, Musk remains undeterred in his quest to push the boundaries of technology and innovation. In addition to his business ventures, Musk is also known for his outspoken presence on social media. With over 70 million followers on Twitter, Musk frequently shares his thoughts on a wide range of topics, from technology and space exploration to memes and cryptocurrency. His tweets have been known to move markets, with the price of cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin and Dogecoin often fluctuating in response to his posts. Musk's influence extends beyond the business world. In 2020, he made headlines for his efforts to combat the COVID-19 pandemic, including donating ventilators and personal protective equipment to hospitals. Musk has also been a vocal advocate for addressing climate change, promoting the adoption of electric vehicles and renewable energy sources. Despite his immense success, Musk remains a polarizing figure. Some view him as a visionary entrepreneur who is revolutionizing multiple industries, while others see him as a reckless showman whose grandiose promises often fall short. Regardless of where one stands on Musk, it is undeniable that he has left an indelible mark on the business world and beyond. As Elon Musk continues to push the boundaries of technology and innovation, one thing is certain: his impact will be felt for generations to come. Love him or hate him, there is no denying that Musk is a force to be reckoned with in the business world. And as he sets his sights on even more ambitious goals, the world can only wait and see what he will achieve next.

[aestheticvoyage2024]

Day 98: Sunday April 7, 2024 - "Silver Appreciation Post"

It was a romantic end of trail for Silver and I's run through the universe these past few days. I wasn't feeling the love and loyalty trying to buy a new Toyota hybrid, and one final interaction out on the back lot, provided the omen I needed to pick up and move on from it. As if Silver was saying to get on up outta here. I tipped my hat to Silver on the way out the door, and handed over its title to the foreman in the service shop there. He said he planned to fix it up and keep it for himself and get it back on the road where it belongs. I was so grateful for that. After such a wonderful story together where I got more out of it than I could have ever dreamed, now it winds up in a place to get a new life. Its a bell cow now - with every opportunity to get at least to 300,000 miles. I proudly shared with Toyota, how my Prius has been a legend. From every corner of the country, and every new road we could find.

Its easy to be nostalgic about it - it gave me far more than I could have ever dreamed when my Dad found back in the fall of 2013. After an overnight test drive, and some arm twisting from my Dad, I was indeed getting my wide frame behind the wheel of a Prius. It was - slowly - life changing. Delayed by a deer strike, but on course for fate, I tied a seakayak to the rack in a snow storm and set out on my Grand walkabout. We went west. Me and my Silver steed. And indeed the sun did shine soft on another face - we found our home. We crossed this country in search of bread and love. And found all of it. It was the car that will always be most tied to my identity than any other vehicle. We did big things together - I saw the universe through its mirrors and filters. It took good care of me - always reliable. The car I brought William home from the hospital in is the same special car I rolled out on my walk about in. I'll never forget that. Daddy's car will always first and foremost have been Silver. My special car. I drove it for as long as I could, and when it gave up its ghost in February it didn't owe us a thing. Paid off since 2018 we got 6 more years of good go out of our main car for almost no cost. My Dad agrees, its definitely one of the best used car picks he's ever hit on. Yea, couldnt hardly have been any better. We bought it at 40k miles from a dealer in Lansing, MI. I sold it for cash to a service foreperson in Tucson. And in between we saw some the neatest and very best roads. From Yosemite to the Everglades. From Big Bend of Texas, to Big Sur in California. Places it shouldn't have gone, admitted issues with its headlights, and horn, and yes that might be some white gorilla tape holding that panel together - got that in Tahoe on Labor Day one year. All scars are memorable on this car. This scratch here is from my kayak in the everglades when I still very new in learning how to strap it down, in the first leg of the ramble. And these big scratches here on the front bumper are from the time the car completely shutdown and we couldn't get it up out of the alley and into our backyard, no matter. how. hard. we. tried. It just wouldnt fit - those scars, remind me of that - when the engine and everything was all rebuilt as part of a recall to save the day for us. It always felt like I was spoiled with this car. It was a legend in the way it was steady for me. I had to be convinced by my Dad at first, but I'll always give him all the credit - and especially after we added that sport rack, it was ready to be my adventure-mate. I sang its praises. It had so much room I could live out of it, as I went state to state, literally carrying a dinner table to serve as my mobile remote office. I'd pull it out and setup shop in each new place I'd land in. That Prius, thought of as a little car, had more room than most little SUVs. I was proud of it - and the story we were telling together, seeing the country, giving others the permission to do it, in a way that I never had. I'd like to think that somehow I made a difference, out there in my white Prius.

Some of the stickers, still on it today, were there from the beginning in October 2013. The 142 Into the Wild tag, the old english D. The Michigan Love. Later we'd pick up a Bernie Sticker in Vermont, and of course a Biden sticker - which shouldnt surprise people to see on a Prius in Tucson, though it always seemed to surprise them when they saw me behind the wheel - not what they expected! And I love that. -that maybe we reshaped some ideas around going smaller and more sustainably in the effort to simplify and enjoy the expeirence. It was the perfect car. For all of that. And for me and for that time. It helped light the spark. It was part of the manifestation, that led me here. To my fate, and my family. It has a spark of that. Its easy to be romantic about the connection to such an inanimate thing - a machine - a computer. I gave it a loving goodbye and loving place to land. I'd done my part, and ended that story.

Id spend the day writing reviews in its honor, and researching Subarus before working to settle on a new family car, the Ascent. By week's end we'd have our names on one in transit and figuring out financing. A new story starting in a more exciting and energized way that feels very right. Just had to close that last circle first. I'll be a very lucky man, if I ever have a better car than Silver - I just can't imagine it will ever be possible to catch that magic twice. The car I left in, found love in, brought my son home in. It gave me everything.

Song: Josh Ritter - Roll On

Quote: “I much prefer the sharpest criticism of a single intelligent man to the thoughtless approval of the masses.” ― Johannes Kepler

Not ALL of these miles were in Silver, of course - some pre-dated the Prius, and some tracks were in rentals. BUT Oh, So, many of these tracks were in the Prius at some point.

[myimaginarywonderland]

Okay, so this post will talk about Lance but I will also give my opinion on the Lando situation since I think it is important.

First off, I think it says a lot about Lando that he made an apology. Now, be it because of the backlash he faced, because he actually saw the harm he was causing or because he genuinely regrets it, that is something I don't know. What I do know is that by apologising for it, he acknowledges that his behaviour was wrong and that is really important because it shows that he reflected on himself.

While I do still feel irked by something about the message, be it that he isn't naming Lance or Lewis who he both targeted with his actions in different ways and apologise to them directly which he might have done in person, so I am not able to judge it or be it the weird sorry at the end, I can put aside my feelings and say that this was the right thing to do and is also setting an example for his fans who were one of my main issues with all of this. They then know that saying that was not right and might learn from it themselves.

But this post isn't about Lando. This post is about Lance.

As most of you might have heard, Lance was really affected by what happened on track. He can clearly see that he is anxious and uncomfortable in his post race interview and what happened afterwards tells the story (I don't really want to talk about it because this is something private that he did not share and it is like with the story on Twitter something that was shared by other people who he didn't give the right to share it too so I don't want to spread it any further.)

This is who Lance is.

Someone who is sensitive and takes a lot of things personally.

You want to know why? Because he has, as a person, always been blamed for his dad's wealth. As if he choose to grow up with a billionaire dad. As if he is somehow responsible for it.

And he has always been painted out as someone undeserving, someone that doesn't have talent and totally owns his position to the money of his dad.

Now, let me just give you some data because I want to totally discredit this made up stuff with no roots.

In 2015, he won the Toyota Racing Series. He won by a bit over 100 points. The second finisher was his teammate. You might now some of the other drivers who competed in this series for example one Callum Iliot or Artjom Markelow.

Or in 2016,his first season in Formula 3, he finished fifth. The winner of that year was Felix Rosenquvist (a great driver) who was also Lance teammate and had only one DNF in comparison to Lance 5 and a DSQ. Now, there are two other drivers, one that was the runner up in Antonio Giovinazzi and a fourth who was Charles Leclerc. Pretty competitive field if you ask me and to finish 5th as a rookie,is impressive.

Now, fast forward a year to when he won the F3 championship. He won over his teammate by a margin of over 150 points which is so impressive, even with the two more DNFs his teammate, Maximilian Günther (another great driver) had that is quiet a lot.

Now, if you really want to use the argument that he skipped F2 against him, there is another driver you should be discrediting just as much. You guessed it, M*x V*rstappen. He also went straight into F1 which was a definite mistake but nobody ever likes to say that. I would also like you to remember that Lance did not drive for F1 as a regular driver immediately after he won the championship, no in 2016 he was a test driver, so he could slowly get used to F1. (This is not official but I would guess it's the thought process behind him being a test driver.)

Now, in 2017, his first F1 season, he was teammates of Felipe Massa. Might have heard of him, lost his championship to Lewis by one point, was teammate of Micheal Schumacher and a generally way more experienced driver. Yeah, you wanna know what the difference between him and Lance was in Lance first season? 3 points. And Lance had 2 more DNFs. You know what else he got in his first season? His first podium. In his first season, he became one of the youngest people to ever achieve a podium. With just 7 rounds into his first F1 season, in an okay midfield car with a way more experienced and older driver he was up against, he achieved a podium. And during the entire course of the season, that would remain the only podium for the Williams team that year.

Now, onto 2018. Williams was not as bad as in 2019 but they were still nowhere in terms of pace and he still didn't finish last in the championship (but I don't think we can count this season.)

In 2019, Checo became his teammate. And Checo in my opinion is one of the best midfield drivers, so there was already a lot he had to go up against and he was still so young and had less experience. There is a 30 point difference between them. Make of that what you want but for me, sure it was not Lance greatest season but now you have to think if Racing Point where really that good go be the fifth best car or if maybe, Checo just got more out of the car with his experience and talent. And than, you have to consider that he was still young and only had one season where he was truly competitive (that 2018 Williams was not something you could truly challenge anyone with.) And to then be up to one of the best midfield drivers who is widely appreciated and adored by the paddock, is a lot. Maybe for some of you it was too big of a gap which is alright.

However, don't dismiss his talent. He has had a good junior career and was up to some of the drivers you love and call talented, he even beat some of your faves. Maybe you don't see him as the next great driver but he is not a bad one and truly deserves a seat if you consider his achievements. Maybe he could have proven himself more if he had a season in F2 which is fair but that doesn't take away from anything he has achieved.

And even if you don't see him as talented, that gives you no right to bully him online. He can't change who his dad is.

Now,onto the money. I see a lot of people saying that he is only in F1 because of the money (which I hope you have by now realized is not the case.) But really, let's talk about the money.

Money is something that sadly plays a big role in F1. F1 is above all still a business. And businesses want money. So, why not take someone who has money and talent like Lance? Where are you all saying Michael only got his seat because of money (he is a pay-driver after all or at least he was one when he came to F1.) And now let's talk about his move to Racing Point. Can you truly blame Lawrence for wanting to make his sons dream come true? Wouldn't any father if they had the resources do this? Wouldn't any father want to fufill his son's dream, even if it might be seen as unethical by some or criticized? Would you really care if you saw how happy your kid was? Would you really care if you saw the glow you kid had? I don't think so.

I already said it but he was at Williams before he was at RP. His dad doesn't own that team or have any chairs in it.

Let's forget his profession for a second. Let's say you don't find him talented as a driver or just don't like him, fine. You are entitled to your opinion and sometimes we just don't like people, it happens.

What else would you have against him?

He doesn't post on social media often because people already bully him enough for his family. There is basically nothing you can dislike about him there.

And as a person? He is quiet and basically does nothing to anger people. He is literally just a normal dude. He goes on trips with his friends, he does sports to stay in shape and watches sports. He is not even posting personal stuff because he doesn't want to give people more room to bully him.

If you saw him on the street, would you think he is from a rich family? He does not look like it at all, he looks like that guy from your local sport who is literally just a college student trying to get through life.

And not only was he discredited for all his accomplishments because of something he had no control over but he also saw another driver proudly display a symbol that has been used by people who killed people who belonged to his religion. He saw a driver weat that symbol in cooperation with a company whose boos seems to be a Neo Nazi.

Lance has had to go through to so much shit just because his dad was rich (which Nicky's and Lando's also are, yes I know it's less but it's still more than any of us will probably ever have.)

This boy does nothing wrong.

Did he make a mistake with the maneuvers on Lando? Yes. But he is still so young and also new to F1, he can still learn and is growing as a person and driver. He is expected to perform more just so he proves his worth which he already has because people discredit him for having a rich dad.

Have you seen what he has done this season? He would be in the top 5 had it not been for the last races where none of the DNFs where his fault. Neither was getting Covid or being ill but people literally made fun of him for being in pain, saying stuff like "Did Daddies boy have a little stomach ache?" Yeah, because F1 drivers aren't trainex to perform no matter what, aren't putting their health last when it comes to these things and might have to be really bad if they can't drive and are not even going out of their room.

He has improved so much, he is not blaming other drivers even if they clearly hit him (see Charles) and he stays calm. Because he can't afford to be to emotional since some people would hate him for rightfully calling out others mistakes and just maybe saying that their faves are not flawless and make mistakes (like Charles.)

He has to act a certain way or be a certain way because what would happen if he just showed more of his personality? You call him dull, boring but you don't even try to get to know him. You don't even look up videos where he is more open and comfortable.

He is awkward infront of the press because he has to fear to be discredited or to be questioned about his worth every second.

And all of this pressure, this mask and this pretend eventhough he is just as human as the rest of us. And you see how hard it is, how much he questions himself, how his self-doubt increases and ultimately what happened has happened.

Because while it is just an easy insult for you that you can post anonymously online, it is one of thousands for him.

And you know, he didn't grew up in Europe. Sure he competed with some of the European drivers later one but he didn't have any of them when he started racing and he might already have been an outcast because people would already have seen him as different since his family didn't need to make sacrifices to get him to wear he is now. At least not financially ones. And then, when he came to Europe there were these already formed friend groups and it wasn't easy to get into them. The only friend he had was Esteban and I am so glad. This seems like such an unlikely friendship because they are from totally different backgrounds but that might have been what connected them in the first place. So, with basically only Esteban who liked him from the competitive times, it must have been pretty bad (not to say that the others hated him but I don't think they really cared for him.) I am so glad to see that he now also has Checo and that they get along and I hope that stays this way eventhough all of what has happened (which is also not his fault and I am sure that if he had any say in it, it would have been done differently.) Maybe we can even see their friendship when Checo stays on the grid. And with the potential of Seb next year, that might be the only other friendship or friendly connection he might form.

He is so strong for having to endure the dislike of so many people and he is still so kind and so sweet.

This has been a long post but one that I have wanted to make for a long time. If you got this far, I applaude you.

[daddysamu]

This might sound like a complicated question but...what kind of cars does it look like everyone in the squad drives? meaning based on their looks only. Like kenma looks like he would drive a nissan ultima etc.

Hmm. I don't know too much about cars but lemme try. Also this is purely based on looks:

@nishinoya-yuu-rolling-thunder : honestly? Strikes me more as a biker kinda guy. Somethin' like this?

@official-futakuchikenji: an old Convertable. He's had it fer a while and it's on its last legs but he has so much pride in it.

@officialkunimii : wouldn't drive. Waits for self during cars.

@bodaddybokuto : beat up Honda minivan. Has dents in it and scuff marks and mismatched tires. (S really went off on this one 😂)

@official-kitashinsuke : Volkswagen Beetle in gray

@officialakinori : 2018 Rolls Royce Wraith in red

@officialhajimeiwaizumi : gray lexas RC 350 RWD

@official-lev-haiba :

This car with blue flames down the sides

@officialkeijiakaashi : 2012 Acura TSX Sport Wagon in black. He has a starbucks cup in the cupholder at all times.

@daddy-kusa : black audi r8

@dxddytetsu : Subaru outback in that weird forest green color

@daddydaishouu : porshe taycan in black

@kodzukenanon : pre-owned Honda Civic. Probably silver

@thexyakuxmorisuke : Lamborghini Sian in gold (S said that there would also be flames on the side of his car)

@daddymakki : tesla roadster in red

@official-hinatashouyou: 2014 Nissan Versa in white

@tendousatoriii : Bugatti veyron. The black and red one

This took a while but it was real fun!!

@sunatheerintaro : black jaguar f-type

@daddysemi : silver Toyota Camry

[emeraldjulez]

I feel the need to rant because I don't know you people and you guys won't know who I'm talking about.

A lot of things have been on my mind lately.

One being, how I define a relationship and how I don't define a relationship

A relationship is defined as (IN MY OPINION): each other being treated as an equal, both are supportive of each other, both will take turns when buying things (one pays for dinner one night, the other one pays for dinner the next night, etc. Etc).

I wouldn't define a relationship as (because I've been through this personally): manipulation, one person always paying for EVERYTHING, one person driving EVERYWHERE, one person pulling all the weight in the relationship, and a person thinking they're better than the other.

Second thought:

I have no idea why but this is the trend that's been going around with my friends for some fucking reason and I'm getting sick and tired of it.

So one friend has been working two full time or part time minimum wage jobs for the past ten years. Never finished community college. This friend is assistant manager and I've asked him multiple times if he would ever work toward being manager, and he said no. I don't understand why but it seems like he wants to stay working two minimum wage jobs the rest of his life. I asked him if he wanted to at least go to trade school and he didn't seem interested. LIKE WHERE THE FUCK IS THE MOTIVATION????

Another friend, he graduated college in 2018, communications major. For the past three years since he graduated he's only been working at either Starbucks or a car dealership place doing sales position (Toyota/Mercedes Benz). His dream job and what he went to school for is to be a sports commentator and yet, I don't see him at all working his way towards that. Salesmen and a barista, yep definitely screams sports commentator. He thinks that he'll instantly get a job as a sports commentator. It doesn't work that way! You have to work your way up and get experience to do that. Yet he doesn't look for working at sports commentator company and working towards being a sports commentator.

This other friend, he has one part time job and gets unemployment. On multiple occasions he has complained to me about being low on money and can't spend money on stuff he needs. I told him to get another job and he's like nah I'm fine with having this part time job and unemployment money. So he's unmotivated to get another job just because he's "comfortable" where he is. If you're so "low" on money but yet "comfortable" then DON'T COMPLAIN ABOUT IT!!! He's also now not getting enough hours with his part time job🤷

It's just these kinds of mindsets and these kinds of views is what bothering me. They're not striving toward the goals they want to achieve and with their current mindsets, it honestly seems like they won't ever achieve them. No offense to them. I do want the best for them and for them to get off their lazy asses and find an actual job that they want or to get work experience to work toward their goals!

[multipleservicelisting]

My Search for Lost Time in a Slice of Jewish Rye

Was it really as good as I remembered?

My wife was asking. For years she’d heard me rhapsodize about the rye bread of my youth, and now, after decades of privation, I had before me the genuine article: a sandwich on Gottlieb’s rye.

Gottlieb’s Bakery, in downtown Savannah, Ga., had shut its doors in 1994, and I’d left town years before that. It had been more than 30 years since I last tasted its rye bread. It was conceivable that I’d romanticized it in the intervening years.

The sandwich at hand was pedestrian: vegan bologna, power-washed greens from a plastic clamshell, a slice of purple onion and Dijon mustard. But the first, sharp bite of rye was transporting. The last time I’d eaten it I was a carnivore, making Reubens with my mother’s corned beef instead of the tempeh I use now.

The knotty-pine-paneled kitchen of our postwar suburban home was steamy and redolent of corned-beef brine, mingled with the intoxicating waft of rye turning golden in the chrome Sunbeam toaster. My job, which I relished as a teenager, was to carve thin, even slices for the whole family with a finely sharpened butcher’s knife. As the six of us crowded around the kitchen table, the usual banter and bickering gave way to quiet industriousness as we each assembled our sandwiches.

I took the bread for granted. But now I realize that my parents went to some trouble to make that taste of the Old World part of our mid-20th-century American diet. The standard then was packaged factory-made bread from the supermarket.

Now and then, Dad would pick up a loaf from Gottlieb’s on his way home from his downtown office, and ask for it to be thinly sliced. As a child, when I happened to be with him, I would watch in awe as one of the Gottlieb men would nestle it in a machine, flip a switch, and a maw of serrated blades would jounce up and down, sawing it into an accordion of perfect slices.

The bread, with its chewy crust and sharp tang, graced school lunch sandwiches of chicken and roast beef. At home, I’d toast it for a shrimp salad sandwich. But there was nothing better than a naked slice of rye for breakfast, toasted with butter; eggs and grits optional.

Finding a suitable replacement was the least of my concerns when I moved to New York in the early ’90s. The city, after all, was the world capital of Jewish baking. It had the best bagels, the best rugelach. The brash, bumptious New Yorkers I’d encountered in college had assured me that everything in New York was “the best.”

On a childhood visit, I’d marveled at the city’s Jewish delis, black-hatted Hasidim and Jewish mayor, all sources of wonder to a boy from Savannah, where Jews were a tiny minority. Surely this city had world-class rye bread.

For years, I sampled the city’s brands and bakeries. One of my childhood friends, a kid named David Levy, had a poster in his bedroom, purloined from a famous ad campaign of the era, of a smiling Black child eating a rye sandwich under the slogan, “You don’t have to be Jewish to love Levy’s.”

I tried Levy’s. I didn’t love it.

I tried the other supermarket brands. I picked up loaves from the best Jewish bakeries on the Lower East Side and uptown. I ordered sandwiches on rye in the famous Jewish delis (“the best!”) in Manhattan and Brooklyn, where I lived. None equaled the rye of my memory.

After a few years, a startling truth began to creep up on me: That rye was a rare thing.

And a corollary: Perhaps, in this case, New York did not have the best.

I stipulate that I do not claim to have tried every rye bread out there. Nor have I carried out a rigorous side-by-side blind tasting. I cannot assert with any objective authority that Gottlieb’s rye was the best in the world ever.

My wife wisely suggested that perhaps the best rye was whichever one you grew up with. I’m sure there’s truth to that. Especially if you grew up in Savannah when Gottlieb’s was around.

Gottlieb’s was the city’s only Jewish bakery. That was not always the case. In its early decades, it had competition from Buchsbaum Bakery, my great-grandparents’ storefront enterprise. My grandfather delivered bread by horse and wagon to the working-class Jewish community on the Westside, then Savannah’s shtetl of striving Eastern European immigrants.

Our family’s bakery did not survive my great-grandparents, but Gottlieb’s, founded in 1884, persevered.

One reason Gottlieb’s endured had to do with local synagogue politics. Savannah, to the astonishment of my Yankee college friends, had been home to Jews since shortly after its founding in 1733. But by the early 20th century, the few thousand Jews had divided into three congregations representing the main branches of American Judaism. And for any communitywide activity, like Hebrew school or day camp, the Orthodox rabbis sought to impose their strict rules on everyone, including kosher food.

One consequence, since Gottlieb’s was the only kosher bakery, was that snack time at day camp was bug juice and a thick, dense Gottlieb’s shortbread cookie.

No bar mitzvah party was complete without a bad local band — a cover of the Doobie Brothers’ “China Grove” was de rigueur — and tables piled with Gottlieb’s goodies: rich brownies, moist rainbow cakes, canasta cakes and iced white petit fours adorned with a silver candy pearl or the name of the boy or girl of honor in blue icing.

In those years, Gottlieb’s rye was part of how my parents cared for my three sisters and me. Decades later, it reappeared when we were taking care of my widowed, octogenarian mother.

In 2018, she was laid low by Guillain-Barré syndrome, an autoimmune disease that kills most people her age. My sisters and I began visiting Savannah in weeklong shifts to help care for her.

During one visit, I learned that two members of the fourth generation of Savannah Gottliebs, Laurence and Michael, had reopened the family bakery in a soulless strip mall on Savannah’s Southside. Shiny and modern, it lacked the flour-dusted ambience of its precursor in the city’s oak-lined Victorian district. But it offered many of my old favorites: pecan sticky buns, cheese Danish, chocolate chewies and, I was delighted to discover, rye bread.

I began tacking a stop onto my visits: I would swing by Gottlieb’s on the way to the airport, pick up two loaves, thin-sliced and double-bagged, pack them in my suitcase and freeze them immediately upon my return. I would then make grilled cheese, tempeh Reubens, tomato-and-mayonnaise sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches and smoked whitefish salad on toast until my stash ran out.

It was the same bread I ate as a child, Laurence Gottlieb told me, the recipe given him by his father, Isser Gottlieb, who ran the bakery, initially with his father and uncle, for more than 50 years. Isser said the recipe was the same one his grandfather had brought with him from Eastern Europe, according to Isser’s widow, Ava.

Jewish-style rye is a sourdough, and that rye tang embedded in my taste memory comes from the starter. Laurence makes his with medium rye flour, water and natural yeast.

The recipe is equally spare: “Salt, yeast, caraway seeds, flour, water and the starter — that’s it,” he said. “The shelf life isn’t there,” he admitted, but that’s not the point.

There had been minor adjustments over the years, not to the heirloom recipe but to the process. The old bakery on Bull Street had no air-conditioning, so the bakers threw ice in the dough as they mixed it to lower the temperature. The starter was mixed by hand in a large bucket, a job no one wanted because it would stick to your skin like wet cement.

Gottlieb’s made deli rye, corn rye, onion rye, seedless rye, rye rolls and marbled rye with swirls of pumpernickel. They were shipped by Greyhound bus to small towns in Georgia and South Carolina that didn’t have their own bakeries, and expressed overnight to devotees farther afield who were happy to pay a premium for a superior sandwich.

Like me, Ava Gottlieb remembers visits to New York City delis that were culinarily thrilling, but the bread disappointing. “It wasn’t because I was prejudiced,” she said. “Our bread was better.”

The original bakery succumbed to supermarket competition in 1994, a victim of the American preference for convenience over quality.

Laurence, now 47, had grown up in the bakery, but had trained to be a chef and was cooking in elegant restaurants. Then one day he happened into a bakery. “I walked in and fell in love with it,” he said. “The odor, the yeasty sweetness of the bakery just does something in my mind.”

In 2016, he opened the new Gottlieb’s bakery with his brother.

In March, our Savannah trips ended. My mother’s assisted-living home barred visitors as the front end of the pandemic edged into view. That didn’t stop my mom from contracting Covid-19, landing her in the isolation ward of an understaffed rehabilitation center. She recovered from the virus but died there, alone, in August after a fall.

My sisters and I flew to Savannah to bury her. The funeral, in a cemetery overlooking the marsh on a warm August morning, was spare. A handful of relatives sat amid rows of empty folding chairs and the insistent sound of cicadas. The rest watched on Zoom.

Before returning to New York, I had one last errand to run. I drove my mother’s battered Toyota to Gottlieb’s.

It was gone.

Part of the shopping center was being torn down. The bakery had been evicted. With the retail market in a tailspin, the Gottlieb brothers had no plans to reopen. The all-too-brief reprise of Gottlieb’s rye was over.

The smell and taste of things, Proust wrote, hold in the “tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence the vast structure of recollection.” A morsel of madeleine in a spoonful of tea evokes a childhood in a French village; a bite of rye with Dijon mustard calls up mine in Savannah.

In the white-roar silence of the plane back to New York, my mother’s voice was already attenuating in my head, the solid force of her life fragmenting into snatches of half-remembered anecdotes. The rye bread was gone.

It was as good as I remembered.

  Multiple Service Listing for Business Owners | Tools to Grow Your Local Business

www.MultipleServiceListing.com 

from Multiple Service Listing https://ift.tt/2LNWs5O

[teddy-bear-surprise]

Chapter 2: The Brink of Darkness

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 Part 1 || Chapter 7 Part 2 || Chapter 8 || Almost The End || Chapter 9 ||

WARNING: Mentions of death/murder and excessive drinking

It was nearing five o'clock when Ophelia wandered through the aisles of some random corner store in Downtown LA, picking up, examining, and adding items to her basket. She was thinking about what to do for New Years', only two weeks remained before she would enter 2018 and she could not wait to celebrate. She considered crashing a party in LA, staying at home and watching the ball drop on the television, or possibly even flying out to New York to see it for herself.

Ophelia had made a lot of money in her youth, showered in promotions and offers from some of the biggest engineering companies in the United States and beyond. Now, at the age of thirty-seven, she rarely had to work anymore. Her days and nights were generally spent in the solitude of her home, simply reading or researching novelties. It was rare for Ophelia to go out and travel, so visiting New York City on New Years' sounded like a swell idea. She nursed the idea as she walked, deciding to look into it further once she returned home and she continued her shopping.

The first items that she picked up were two fresh linen-scented candles, one bottle of acetone, and a nice bottle of cheap, red wine. It felt like just yesterday she had turned twenty-one and buying alcohol still felt like a crime... frankly, a lot of things she did felt like that. She was about to enter the snack aisle to look for some decadent snacks, but she heard a television chittering from the front of the store, catching her attention.

"One more dead celebrity this morning, it's absolutely tragic. Rachel, what do you think is happening? These murders are scaring everyone, myself included."

"Well, Diego, it seems as though the perpetrator, or possibly perpetrators, are targeting rich, male celebrities. Why exactly, we do not know. More about the Golden Murders after this break–"

Ophelia was amused by their ignorance, "If only they knew who those men really were," she thought to herself.

An ad began playing and Ophelia's attention was once more drawn to her hunger. She found the popcorn first, stocking up on three boxes of the salty snack before searching for her other craving. Once she added a bar of dark chocolate to her now overflowing basket, she headed towards the checkout lines.

She acted incredibly nonchalant, her expression never faltered from its indifferent norm, even as the clerk conversed with her.

"You see what they just showed on the news? Scary stuff, huh?" The cashier looked up at Ophelia, raising his eyebrows.

"Uhhh, yeah. It is kind of scary, I guess. I'm not a man though, so I don't really think I have to worry," she did not want to divulge much on the subject, preferring to keep an ambiguous expression.

The cashier ignored her dismissive tone and continued rambling on, "Y'know, when the first one happened I wasn't that surprised, these rich people can get mixed up in some shady things sometimes so I was like, 'It's just one dead rich man, what's the big deal?' But now. Now, I'm definitely thinking that something's up. Either they're all in the same cult," he lowered his voice and leaned towards Ophelia who withdrew from him.

"Or they've all done something really, really bad," he straightened up again and finished scanning her items, "Your total is gonna be twenty-three dollars and forty-eight cents. Cash or card?"

His demeanor returned to normal and Ophelia shrugged off the odd tangent he had gone off on before replying, "Cash, exact change," and picking up her bag as she dropped her money on the counter.

She exited the store quickly and threw her purchase into the front, passenger's seat of her 1982 Chevrolet Citation. A classic, but somewhat ugly, light blue car. She inserted her key into the ignition, pushed down on her brake pedal, and twisted it a few times as the engine sputtered. Annoyed at her junk car, she smacked her hand against the key angrily. This time when she turned it, however, the engine started. She pulled out of the crowded, street-side parking spot and started on her way home.

Her brain was clouded and churning, both hating and loving all of the attention she was indirectly receiving on the news. Despite slightly enjoying the attention, she wished people would not talk about it as much, especially if they were spending most of the time idolizing the abusive men who were killed. Even opening the windows to feel the brisk air as she drove did nothing to clear her mind. She turned to her last resort, the radio. She cranked up the volume, which was not actually loud at all, and turned the station to one that was playing one of her favorite songs from the 2012 era. Ophelia sang along loudly, enjoying the rhythm and lyrics equally.

When the song ended though, the station's hosts brought up the Golden Murders once more, infuriating her and her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

"So, we've just received news that federal law enforcement will now be taking interest in this upsetting case. What do you think of this?"

"I think that it's a great idea. I have no doubt that our local law enforcement was doing their best, but these are celebrities we're talking about, their faces are plastered everywhere and people look up to them. It's scaring people, you know? The faster they can get to the bottom of this, the better."

"You heard it here first, folks. The FBI will be landing here in LA in two days, whoever is behind these murders, you better buckle up buddy. Until next time on 97.9, the station of your dreams!"

Ophelia rolled her eyes and clicked it off, so much for escaping her problems. She hated the way that these reporters always made her feel like the prey when in reality, she was the hunter. But she was not the only hunter in this game. Her partner, Catherine, was just as guilty and probably nowhere near as worried as Ophelia. She was almost certain that it was just Catherine's clinically psychotic tendencies that gave her the upper hand in situations like these, but she still felt a tinge of jealousy.

She had met Catherine 'Cat' Adams a few years ago on Tinder. Cat's profile surprised her, bringing all of the spunk of a younger woman, despite being only a year younger than Ophelia, but without the immaturity. On their first date, they went out to one of those silly drive-in movies and watched the worst possible movie in cinematic existence. It did not matter to them though because they talked the entire time, sharing their favorite and their most hated things about life.

Ophelia soon realized that she and Catherine were near mirror images of each other, in terms of ideologies at least. After only three more dates, the two became an official couple. Cat even admitted, two months into their relationship, that she never intended to make a Tinder account and said that it was much too irresponsible in her line of work. When Ophelia asked Cat what this line of work was, she received a very ambiguous answer.

"I'd love to tell you, hun, but I don't think I can. Not yet, at least. Maybe someday," she could remember Cat tucking her hair behind her ear and cupping her chin as she said this next part, "when we've been together for longer, I might even invite you to come work with me."

She never expected that a couple of years later, she and Cat would become a murderous duo, slightly resembling the women of the musical, Chicago. Though they had broken up the first time that Cat was sent to prison, they remained extremely close and it was not until she escaped in August that they began their moonlight endeavors.

According to Catherine, it had been 'shockingly' easy and 'way too fun' to escape, not even requiring her to employ her 'Plan B'. Ophelia did not even know that she would be seeing Cat again within the century, but when she showed up on Ophelia's doorstep in the middle of the night, her ex-lover could not help but let her back into her life.

Cat's slightly off-kilter and bold mannerisms were some of Ophelia's favorite things about her. Now, unfortunately, Cat was forced to be much more low-key. She drove the most average car in existence, a run-down 2008 Toyota Corolla; lived in an extremely average apartment with one room and one bathroom; and looked like the average Los Angelean thirty-year-old-woman with her now blonde hair.

Ophelia paid for all of Cat's expenses, like her apartment and groceries, and though it barely dented her pockets, she always made sure that Catherine respected the fact that she was spending Ophelia's money and not her own. They had an incredibly symbiotic relationship, of course, living apart did make some aspects more difficult. Ophelia took care of all of the necessities, such as materials and planning and Cat took care of the creative aspects of their 'activities'.

They could not fully remember how it all happened. It started innocently with some tequila shots and the celebration of Cat's return. Within an hour, however, the two were stumbling around drunk and preaching their hatred for their abusive fathers and men in general which, for a while, was fine. Suddenly things took a turn when Cat asked if Ophelia had ever considered killing her father. Ophelia laughed drunkenly for a few minutes before managing to spit out the fact that he was already dead. The two of them burst into a cacophony of drunken laughter that rang throughout her house. When they calmed down though, Cat asked again, this time even more serious. The rest, including a bit of an entanglement between them, was history because what happens on a drunken night, stays in the drunken night.

For some reason, thinking about her and Cat's history brought her a sense of peace. So much so that she was already pulling into her driveway when she switched her train of thought. The yellow-beige tones of her house repulsed her, but they were neutral and bland, practically guaranteeing that she would stay out of people's line of sight. Ophelia opened her car door, leaning her elbow on the top of it, and looked behind her admiring the landscape of the mountains that surrounded her home, because even if the home itself was ugly, at least it had a good view. She leaned back into her car to grab her purse and shopping bag before slamming the car door and heading towards its trunk. Inside, she retrieved a trash bag, which although very large and cold, was surprisingly light and easy to carry.

She carried all of these into her house, struggling to open the door with only one free hand, and set them down near her back door. After writing down a quick note to look more into the idea of going to New York, Ophelia began putting up her new purchases. She was incredibly tired and not entirely in the mood to do menial cleaning duties but continued anyway. The two candles each earned a spot on either side of her countertop, the wine went into her refrigerator, and the snacks got tossed into the pantry. The acetone, on the other hand, got a very special spot in her pocket. She carried it with her outside, picking up the trash bag on her way to her backyard.

Ophelia stopped in front of an oddly-shaped fire-pit, one of her own inventions from her time at MIT (it seemed useless at the time but now came in handy), and lifted its cover. It featured a thick, steel, rounded lid and a sturdy concrete body. She dumped out the contents of the trash bag into the strange pit, promptly followed by her pouring out the bottle of acetone and banging the top shut. After waiting a few seconds, enough time for enough of the acetone to accumulate inside the pit in its gaseous form, she clicked a small red button and heard a blast go off inside. It had been specially designed to withstand the accumulated pressure of an incredibly powerful flash fire, though the ones she was creating were not very large. A few more seconds later, following the activation of the pit's exhaust system, Ophelia opened it back up to reveal the ashes of her once bloodied clothing.

She coughed at the pungent smell and rushed back inside to where there was cleaner air. Even within her house, the smell followed her, so she decided to light her two new candles and take a shower.

When she exited, her stomach let out a low grumble which she felt deeply. Ophelia shuffled over to her refrigerator to grab a slice of cold pizza. She devoured it hungrily, still feeling unsatisfied. Now turning to her second plan, wine and popcorn, she pranced to her pantry, grabbing the popcorn, and then to her fridge to retrieve the wine. Ophelia carefully poured herself a glass of the red liquid as she waited for her bag of the unhealthy, salty snack in the microwave to finish popping. Once the microwave dinged, it was time for her to start the party.

She downed her first glass of wine in one continuous gulp and turned on some absurdly loud music, which, thanks to her somewhat isolated location, no one else could hear. Ophelia now danced with a hand full of popcorn and the bottle of wine in the other. It had barely been ten minutes and she was already drunk. She stumbled into her kitchen to grab some more popcorn from the bag when she saw her phone light up out of the corner of her eye. Ophelia tried to distinguish the name that had appeared on her screen, but her vision was much too blurred for her to tell.

"It's probably nothing, just a scam call... I mean, who else would call me at," She tried to read the clock on the wall, "I don't know, but it's late why can't they just leave me alone."

Her drunken thoughts slurred together as she ignored her phone, only inciting her to increase the volume of her already blaring music. Popcorn, in her drunken state and time of night, tasted extra good and Ophelia finished the bag almost immediately. She rounded the corner, into her living room, and continued to dance to the beat of the music with the bottle in her left hand. Her clumsy feet stumbled slightly, leading her to bump into a bookshelf.

Ophelia looked up at the bookshelf angrily, almost as if it was a real person that she had bumped into, but her eyes softened when they settled upon a picture frame. "'Germs'", she recalled lovingly as she touched the glass gently. It was a framed photograph of her and Spencer at their first Science Olympiad competition.

They were the only members on their team, but it did not matter because they still managed to garner themselves a shining, first place trophy. She remembered how difficult it had been to convince the teachers at her school to let them start the club, how they spent hours going over budgets, fundraising, and game plans. More than anything though, she remembered how happy Spencer had been to take home his very own prize.

A feeling of sadness and longing welled up inside her, wishing she could be as innocent as that girl in the photograph, wishing that she had not lost contact with her first 'best friend'. Alas, the night was coming to an end and she could not bear the pain of her sorrows, so with another prolonged swig, Ophelia finished the bottle of wine.

She gave it a few minutes to act, turning off her music and sitting herself down on her couch awkwardly, before feeling its sedating effects. Quietly, she placed the bottle on the ground and looked up once more at the picture on her bookshelf while her heavy eyes closed for a night of dreamless sleep.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic: 05 Mar 2020 (New Pinkwater, RIP Jim Tyre, Right to Repair and covid, Radicalized is a bestseller, African Whatsapp modders)

Today's links

Daniel Pinkwater wrote a new novel! Yippee for "ADVENTURES OF A DWERGISH GIRL!"

Warner Chappel discoved a new form of copyright fuckery so dense it blew a wormhole into another dimension: From the people who fraudulently claimed to own "Happy Birthday" for decades.

RIP, Jim Tyre: The free internet just lost one of its most dedicated defenders.

Decentralizing the web is a human problem: The web needs stewards, not owners.

Right to Repair is the right to resilience: Independent repair is how we keep things going during emergencies.

Keyless car fobs can be defeated with a cheap RFID cloner: Car manufacturers wontfix a showstopper bug. Again.

Bookstores, libraries, human thriving and mental health: Books are great, even if the science behind their greatness is thin.

Copyright experts' panel on fair use removed from Youtube: A strange game. The only winning move is not to play. How about a nice game of chess?

Radicalized is out in paperback: Just hit every one of Canada's national bestseller lists, too!

African Whatsapp modders are outcompeting Facebook: Adversarial Interoperability is how you beat digital colonialism.

This day in history: 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

I'm coming to Kelowna, BC today! I'll be at the library from 6-8PM with my book Radicalized for the CBC's Canada Reads. It's free, but you need to RSVP (and most of the seats are gone, so act quick).

https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Daniel Pinkwater wrote a new novel! (permalink)

Well, this is amazing news. Daniel Pinkwater has a new middle grades novel coming out in September: ADVENTURES OF A DWERGISH GIRL!

https://tachyonpublications.com/bestselling-author-daniel-pinkwater-returns-in-classic-form-with-the-illustrated-middle-grade-adventures-of-a-dwergish-girl/

Molly O'Malley is a clever, adventurous girl. She is also a Dwerg. Dwergs are strange folks who live very quietly in the Catskill mountains, have lots of gold, and are kind of like dwarves (but also not!).

Molly isn't interested in cooking and weaving, as she is expected to be. So, she sets off to see the world for herself. Which means a new job, a trip to New York City, prowling gangsters, an adorable king, a city witch, and many historical ghosts. More importantly, it means excellent pizza, new friends, and very quick thinking.

Now someone is pursuing the Dwergs for their gold. Can Molly O'Malley save the day?

IOW: this is a book with every single thing I love about Pinkwater novels. Reading Daniel Pinkwater – as a kid and as an adult – was hugely important to my development as a writer and a human being. Meeting another Pinkwater fan is always a sign that you are among good people.

Warner Chappel discoved a new form of copyright fuckery so dense it blew a wormhole into another dimension (permalink)

I've seen some next-level copyfraud fuckery in my day, believe me, but Adam Neely's tale of Warner Chappell's copyfraud reaches a new height of absurdity.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM6X2MEl7R8

This is sleazy even by Warner Chappell standards, and they're the crooks who fraudulently claimed ownership over Happy Birthday for decades.

https://vimeo.com/172715640

Buckle up for this one, as it is an onion of bizarre, bad-faith corporate behavior, with each layer peeling back to reveal another, even weirder and more terrible one. It starts with a garbage lawsuit against Katy Perry for including a piece of background music in her song Dark Horse that was similar to another very generic lick in an obscure Christian rap song called "A Joyful Noise."

No one claimed that Katy Perry lifted the brief snatch of music from Joyful Noise. Rather, the case turned on the precedent set when Martin Gaye's heirs sued Robin Thicke over "Blurred Lines," arguing that the song had a similar vibe to Gaye's. Gaye's heirs should not have won that suit. But they did. And it opened the floodgates to nuisance suits targeting the likes of Perry and her publisher, Warner-Chappell. They lost the suit and got hit for $2.8m.

This isn't even the fuckery part, by the way.

Enter Adam Neely, who created a massively successful viral video defending Warner Chappell and Katy Perry, arguing that the suit was garbage. The video was so successful he went on national media to discuss the case and was even asked to sign onto an amicus brief.

Let the fuckery begin:

Warner Chappell has claimed copyright over Neely's video, claiming that a few seconds of music that he used was the "melody" of Katy Perry's song.

Further fuckery:

In the case, Warner Chappell argued that this specific musical phrase was not the melody, and was rather some incidental background sound.

Fuckery extreme:

The Warner Chappell claim was not automated. A human manually claimed this phrase of music as Warner-Chappell's, despite:

a) Them having disclaimed ownership of it in a lawsuit,

b) Losing that suit and being told by a court that it wasn't theirs.

Fuckery to the max!

But the musical phrase they claimed ownership over was from "A Joyful Noise," the song they lost two point eight million dollars over, having claimed that their song was not confusingly similar to it.

The two musical phrases – the one from "Dark Horse" and the one from "Joyful Noise" – were so similar that Warner-Chappell's own copyright enforcers mistakenly claimed copyright over the wrong one!

2020 folks. Don't forget to tip your servers, they work hard.

RIP, Jim Tyre (permalink)

My old EFF comrade Jim Tyre just died.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/03/rip-eff-special-counsel-jim-tyre

Jim was a tireless civil liberties litigator, a titan of First Amendment law whose entree to tech law was defending people who criticized censorware companies who wildly overblocked what schoolkids could see. He was also incredibly garrulous, funny, a born raconteur whose encylopedic memory served him well both as a storyteller and a litigator.

Jim worked on the 2600 DMCA case, he defended Ed Felten when he was threatened by the RIAA, he fought ICANN, and he was key to our longrunning suit against NSA over mass surveillance.

Jim always worked offsite. He lived in LA and had eye problems that rendered him nearly completely blind. But he kept a stash of cash at the EFF offices so he could contribute to every whip-round for a baby gift or a wedding present.

He was a true mensch.

Decentralizing the web is a human problem (permalink)

My old EFF colleague Mai Sutton just published a smashing primer on competition, interoperability, and stewardship and the world of tech:

https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20200228/22053744006/defeating-tech-giants-with-open-protocols-interoperability-shared-stewardship.shtm

After delivering a good backgrounder on the history of the wars between shared protocols and proprietary technologies, Mai delves into the thicket of laws that have cropped up to prevent technologists from adding interoperability to existing technologies.

This has led to a new online enclosure, with "Google" becoming synonymous with "search" and "Facebook" synonymous with "social media." These businesses once competed, but today, they preside alone, over protected territory.

But some of that is changing. Between legislative proposals, new standardization efforts, the Decentralized Web movement and its protocols, and a reinvigorated threat of antitrust enforcement, there's some hope that the web will reopen and redecentralize.

Ultimately, Mai writes, this has more to do with how we view the web than how we use it. If we think of the online world as a shared space for humanity then the technologists who keep it running are stewards, not owners.

(Image: Dietrich Ayala (https://hacks.mozilla.org/2018/07/introducing-the-d-web/) and Open Clip Art (https://openclipart.org/)

Right to Repair is the right to resilience (permalink)

Writing in Wired, Kyle Wiens makes the crucial link between the Right To Repair and resilience, especially during moments of disruption to global supply chains.

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-the-right-to-repair-will-help-us-endure-outbreaks/

It's no coincidence that farms and farmers have been leaders in Right to Repair: when you're isolated and you're not allowed to fix your stuff, it means that you can neither nip down to the shops for a replacement, nor easily have an authorized repair tech come to your place.

Covid can put everyone – even entire nations – into the position of that isolated farmer. As Long Beach port is denuded of shipping containers, as air- and rail-links are broken between parts of the country, the stream of parts, replacement units and technicians stops.

A key principle of resilience is to put resources at the edge, replacing hub-and-spoke models with point-to-point, peer-to-peer ones that infuse the system with redundancy. Neoliberalism hates redundancy and equates it with wastefulness.

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1228326004508151808

But redundancy is the key to graceful failure-modes. Limiting repairs to authorized service centers works well (reliable, and certainly great for shareholders), but it fails very, very badly. Right to Repair is how our hospitals, schools, infrastructure maintenance, first responder and other vital services will keep the lights on if things go horribly wrong. Resiliency may be bad for shareholder value, but it's vital to human survival.

Keyless car fobs can be defeated with a cheap RFID cloner (permalink)

Toyota, Hyundai and Kia keyless ignition fobs can be cloned by attackers who get within a few inches of your pocket (say, at a conference), thanks to implementation errors that the auto-makers made with their Texas Instruments DST80 security systems.

https://www.wired.com/story/hackers-can-clone-millions-of-toyota-hyundai-kia-keys/

All you need is a Proxmark RFID scanner, which retails for about $300. That's more than the range-extenders used to steal cars from out front of targets' homes, but unlike those attackers, fob-cloners can start and stop the car as often as they like.

https://hackerwarehouse.com/product/proxmark3-rdv4-kit/

The researchers who did this work come from KU Leuven and the University of Birmingham. Their paper is great:

https://tches.iacr.org/index.php/TCHES/article/view/8546/8111

The attack on its own does not let you start the cars. All it does is disable the immobilizer that stopped people from hot-wiring the ignition system with a screwdriver.

"You're downgrading the security to what it was in the '80s." -Flavio Garcia, University of Birmingham.

The implementation mistakes by the car companies are embarrassingly basic. Kia and Hyundai's implementation only has 24 bits of randomness ("a couple milliseconds with a laptop"). Toyota uses a serial number as a seed, then transmits that serial number in the clear. The companies, naturally, are saying it's no biggie. Toyota claims the attack requires "a highly specialized device that is not commonly available on the market." This just isn't true. I found it with literally one search.

None of the vendors have offered to fix the problem for drivers who bring their cars to garages.

It's depressing, but at least now you know whether you can trust your car's security.

"It's better to be in a place where we know what kind of security we're getting from our security devices. Otherwise, only the criminals know." -Flavio Garcia.

Bookstores, libraries, human thriving and mental health (permalink)

I love Lydia Smith's hymn to the mental health benefits of books, libraries and reading (even if I think the science is less than convincing)

https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/transformation/how-books-and-bookshops-improve-our-mental-health-and-why-we-must-protect-them/

Reading fiction definitely stretches your empathy. For a novel to work, you have to be invested in the lives of people who don't even exist. The death of the yogurt you digested with breakfast this morning is technically more tragic than the deaths of Romeo and Juliet. The yogurt was really alive and now it's really dead. Romeo and Juliet neither lived nor died. Fiction reading is varsity-level empathy!

I agree that the traditional fiction arc – adversity met and overcome – can lighten a dark day. I turn to Kim Stanley Robinson's "Pacific Edge" whenever I'm blue for that reason. I even played a small role in getting adapted for DRM-free audio.

https://boingboing.net/2015/01/15/audio-edition-of-pacific-edge.html

(Pacific Edge was just reissued as a "Tor Essential" in an omnibus with the other two "Californias" novels, sporting a fabulous intro by Francis Spufford. Run, don't walk!)

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250307569

It's also utterly true that books are a path to resilience and self-reliance, filled as they can be with how-tos, analysis and technical knowledge. As the Whole Earth Catalogues used to have it, "Access to tools and ideas."

(It must be said that the net is infinitely better at this than print books, provided you can get online. The use of a time-transported town library to jumpstart post-industrial civilization during the 30 Years War in Eric Flint's 1632 is delightful)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1632_(novel)

Libraries, of course, are the last place in our civilization where you are welcomed because you are a human being, not because you are an ambulatory wallet. Librarians, resist the urge to call people "customers." They're "patrons." That's far more dignified (and accurate).

And working in a bookstore is certainly therapeutic, for certain values of therapy. It can be a grind, but OMG is it ever great connecting people with books that you love and watching them fall in love, too. Generally I'm in accord with the essay. I just don't think the studies cited are of very high quality and/or recency.

It's OK to say, "I love bookstores and libraries because they're fabulous" without having to provide evidence for that fabulousness.

Copyright experts' panel on fair use removed from Youtube (permalink)

NYU law school's Engelberg Center on Innovation Law & Policy held a symposium on copyright and the net with a panel on "when one song infringes the copyright of another and to prove if the accused song is 'substantially similar' enough to be illegal."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVQTz65Bq70

The video of the panel was taken down from Youtube after multiple copyright complaints from rightsholders who claimed that the brief clips, chosen by America's leading copyright experts as being fair use, were infringing.

https://www.law.nyu.edu/centers/engelberg/news/2020-03-04-youtube-takedown

These clips weren't just fair use; they'd been chosen by top legal scholars to illustrate what fair use was.

The rightsholder reps who issued the takedown claims for these videos did so manually – that is, these complaints were not automatically generated.

In the grand tradition of copyfraud fuckery, when the law professors appealed, the rights enforcement dimbulbs (trained on xeroxed procedures in three-ring binders) reasserted their claims, putting the law school at risk of losing its Youtube account.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/05/warner-chappell-copyfraud#warnerchappell

The law profs knew they had the law on their side, but they weren't ready to appeal, because if they lost their appeal, they'd get a Youtube "copystrike," which could also cost them their accounts. And since there were multiple claims, they weren't sure if they'd get multiple strikes by appealing. Youtube's docs don't make this clear, and going through Youtube channels yielded nothing but radio silence.

Now, these are eminent law professors at a top university, so they were able to make some insider calls to Youtube, who lifted the complaints altogether and reinstated the video. But no one ever clarified the multiple-claims/multiple copystrike procedure.

Moral: When it comes to Youtube, it doesn't matter if you're a nationally recognized copyright expert. You can't argue with anonymous, hamfisted rights-enforcer assholes to assert your speech rights. The only way to guarantee those rights is to know someone on the inside.

Radicalized is out in paperback (permalink)

My book Radicalized, a collection of four science fiction novellas, just came out in paperback!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250229250

It's quite a week for the book! It's a finalist for Canada Reads, one of Canada's national book prizes, and the paperback immediately hit all of Canada's national bestseller lists!

I'm especially delighted to make the indie stores' bestseller list:

https://www.cbc.ca/books/the-bestselling-canadian-books-for-the-week-of-feb-23-29-2020-1.5484366

It's headlining the Toronto Star's list:

https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/books/2020/03/04/toronto-star-bestsellers-for-the-week-ending-march-4-2020.html

And there's one more national bestseller list that it's hit, but I can't name it until later this week, when it's published. But yeah, it's a hell of a week!

African Whatsapp modders are outcompeting Facebook (permalink)

Whatsapp is more popular than Facebook in Africa – but unauthorized, souped-up, third-party mods of Whatsapp are more popular still.

https://qz.com/africa/1804859/fake-whatsapp-app-more-popular-than-facebook-instagram-in-africa/

African software developers have modified the Whatsapp app to make it suitable to local users. The mods are transmitted from person to person, and sideloaded onto mobile devices.

The king of mods is GB Whatsapp, which allows for multiple accounts on a single device, ups file-transmissions from 16MB to 50MB, and includes privacy features like masking when you're online. GB Whatapp alone has more African users than the Facebook app.

All these mods communicate with users of the stock Whatapp system and with each other. They're tremendous examples of #AdversarialInteroperability, where hackers give users better, situation-appropriate tools without asking an incumbent's permission.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

They really cleanly illustrate how Adversarial Interop defeats network effects by using it against incumbents. The fact that Whatsapp is the most popular app in Africa is an ADVANTAGE for Whatapp modders: they get to treat every Whatsapp user as a potential customer. These mods also show how Adversarial Interop is key to technological self-determination. Rather than meekly submitting to digital colonialism, modders ignore the choices and preferences of a massive US firm and its shareholders and deliver local solutions for local people.

Facebook's response is predictable. Mods violate our terms of service. Modders are crooks. Users caught using mods face bans.

Modders just tell their users to sign up with secondary phone numbers to avoid bans.

Colonial American industry enjoyed a huge advantage over UK rivals because it disregarded UK patents and copyrights, allowing American firms to leapfrog the former colonial masters. Now that it is a net exporter of tech, it expects foreign countries to respect its rules.

This day in history (permalink)

#5yrsago Justice Department issues "scorching" report on Ferguson's Police Department https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2015/03/ferguson-cops-routinely-block-public-from-filming-them-doj-says/

#5yrsago Matt Haughey retires from Metafilter https://metatalk.metafilter.com/23626/Sixteen-Years

#1yrago The NSA has reportedly stopped data-mining Americans' phone and SMS records https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/04/us/politics/nsa-phone-records-program-shut-down.html

#1yrago Jibo the social robot announces that its VC overlords have remote-killswitched it, makes pathetic farewell address and dances a final step https://www.theverge.com/circuitbreaker/2019/3/4/18250104/jibo-social-robot-server-shutdown-offline-dead

#1yrago BATHDOOM: A Doom level based on a terrible bathroom remodel https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/eveknn/the-hot-new-doom-mod-is-a-nightmare-diy-bathroom-renovation-bathdoom

#1yrago The People's Republic of Walmart: how late-stage capitalism gives way to early-stage fully automated luxury communism https://boingboing.net/2019/03/05/walmart-without-capitalism.html

#1yrago History is made: petition opposing the EU's #Article13 internet censorship plan draws more signatures than any petition in EU history https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-stop-the-censorship-machinery-save-the-internet

#1yrago London councils plan to slash benefit payments with an "anti-fraud" system known to have a 20% failure rate https://news.sky.com/story/thousands-face-incorrect-benefit-cuts-from-automated-fraud-detector-11651031

#1yrago America is not "polarized": it's a land where a small minority tyrannize the supermajority https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/05/opinion/oppression-majority.html

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Carl Sondrol (https://twitter.com/sondrol), Naked Capitalism (https://nakedcapitalism.com/), JWZ (https://www.jwz.org/blog/), Danny O'Brien (oblomovka.com/)

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Canada Reads Kelowna: March 5, 6PM, Kelowna Library, 1380 Ellis Street, with CBC's Sarah Penton https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Currently writing: I just finished a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel now, though the timing is going to depend on another pending commission (I've been solicited by an NGO) to write a short story set in the world's prehistory.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopias: https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/01/disasters-dont-have-to-end-in-dystopias/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

[onestowatch]

Why Virtual Reality May Be Our New Reality | Music and Its Digital Past, Present, and Future

Pre-quarantine predictions about the music industry painted a picture of one its best years yet. Such predictions were overflowing with promising new releases, sold out tours, and unique marriages of music and technology just beyond horizon. While coronavirus has shifted many a release schedule and left tours and festivals in a state of indefinite hiatus, alliances between music and technology remain increasingly vital, both in the name of technological progress, and, more recently, as a supplement to the live experience industry inhibited by the ongoing pandemic. 

Discussions of technology in relation to music range from video games to virtual reality. Travis Scott and Marshmello both held concerts in Fortnite, Paul McCartney had a hand in the Destiny soundtrack, and Ariana Grande had both a song and a playable character in Final Fantasy Brave Exvius. Billie Eilish, Panic! At The Disco, Imagine Dragons and many others have also made their concerts available to stream in virtual reality. But there is another game changing intersection between the music and digital world that challenges not only how we experience music, but also how music is created. It’s called the vocaloid.

Early versions of software designed to synthesize human speech have existed since the late 1930s. Fast forward about two decades, the earliest form of synthesized singing had arrived. The IBM 7094, installed in 1962, was the first “computer to sing,” singing a song called “Daisy Bell” by Harry Dacre (the technological advancement would go on to inspire a similar scene in Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 sci-fi epic, 2001: A Space Odyssey). Since then, vocal synthesis has come a long way, and has also been marked by a different name. 

The year was 2000. The place was Barcelona, Spain. Hideki Kenmochi developed the vocaloid, a voice synthesis software short for vocal android, which was designed to emulate singing. Commercially adapted by Yamaha and distributed by Crytpon Future Media in 2004, the company launched the first Vocaloid and initially called it “Daisy,” after IBM 7094, but due to copyright issues, settled on “Vocaloid 1.” This is where the game changing begins.

Using this first iteration of the software, Yamaha created Meiko, an animated persona designed to serve as the face to the sampled voice of singer Meiko Haigō, with both English and Japanese vocals. Meiko was followed by the release of Kaito, a male vocaloid, two years later. As time went on, the software became increasingly realistic. 

In 2007, Yamaha launched Vocaloid 2, which Crypton Future Media used to bring us Hatsune Miku, a vocaloid persona that quickly went from software to stardom. With long turquoise hair and a heavily anime-inspired look, Miku was sampled from voice actress Saki Fujita, and her Japanese name fittingly translates to “the first sound of the future.”

Hatsune Miku is the first vocaloid to top the charts, has been involved in countless advertisement campaigns, such as those with Google Chrome, Toyota and Louis Vuitton, and opened for Lady Gaga’s ArtPop Tour in 2014. And if it were not for COVID-19, 2020 would have seen her make her Coachella debut. Though other vocaloids have since been created, none have reached the full cultural immersion achieved by Hatsune Miku. Hatsune Miku is now not only the face of vocaloid but also one of Japan’s most recognizable pop stars. Though Miku’s virtual existence isn’t palpable, her real-life fandom and influence certainly are. So much so that in 2018, Akihiko Kondo formally “married” the vocaloid, making for the ultimate ultramodern love story.

But it doesn’t stop there. In 2016, a transmedia startup co-founded by Trevor McFedries called Brud created Miquela Sousa, the first computer-generated social media influencer, programmed as a half-Brazilian, half-Spanish bisexual 19-year-old from LA. With 2.4 million Instagram followers, the mysteriously charming avatar is an ideal fit for advertisers. Miquela did an Instagram takeover for Prada and a Calvin Klein ad with Bella Hadid, in which Hadid, too, was animated, prompting a fascinating elusiveness. 

Miquela is also openly progressive, showing support for Black Lives Matter and other movements. Her creators have noted their intention to help promote social justice through their pioneering of virtual personalities–and talented ones, at that. Miquela is not only an influencer with multiple brand partnerships but also a musician who has collaborated with Lauv and Baauer and is now signed to CAA.

McFedries, Miquela’s manager and one of her creators, is not new to the music industry, having been a DJ, radio show host, director and manager himself. He also created two other virtual personas, Blawko and Bermuda, who are friends with Miquela and whose frequent dramas are created and conveyed through their social media and Youtube vlogs, like a relatable, sympathy-inducing reality show. The three unique virtual influencers portray an obvious self-awareness that they are not human, addressing themselves as robots. Despite not having a true pulse, the self-awareness of these bots certainly shows they have a pulse for the culture, for humor and for connection. So much so that Miquela was listed as one of Time Magazine’s “Most Influential People on the Internet” in 2018, alongside Rihanna and, unfortunately, President Trump.

The creation of both Hatsune Miku and Miquela sparked a paradigm shift in the role of technology in music, an intersection that will lay the foundation for the potential digital future. But this article taps only the tip of the iceberg. From self-driving cars to self-writing songs, the potentially unpredictable nature of innovation sparks anxiety in some and optimism in others.  

Unlocking new worlds of music technology can equip new levels of human creativity. But some may wonder, where the line is drawn when humans are not the only ones making art? Technology is meant to be a resource for the artist, not a replacement. On the other hand, who is to say an artificial collaborator is not a tool? Who is to say the creators and drivers of these vocaloids or virtual artists are not artists themselves? 

Perhaps the increased role of technology will bring a heightened appreciation for the human elements. Perhaps all this live streaming via social media will create a heightened appreciation for the physically live experience while also giving us new tools to reach people around the world. Similarly, while vocaloid hologram performances allow us to experience music in a new way, perhaps this will reinforce an appreciation for the live, human performer.

Fear is an inevitable part of progress, as people before us feared the advent of trains, television, and the internet. Technological progress does not exist in a vacuum, as we have witnessed its challenges but also its immense rewards. Ultimately, we are veterans in experiencing the result of groundbreaking technologies sewing their way into our everyday lives, and adapting accordingly. As technology expands exponentially, we are still only at the cusp. (If you don’t believe me, just google the quantum computer IBM has sitting in their refrigerated basement).

Though the future can be daunting, it is also exciting. Having Miquela in a Calvin Klein ad in which Bella Hadid, a familiar face, was also animated is like opening a portal between the virtual and real world (like the princess in Enchanted jumping out of the sewer, morphing from cartoon to human). Bonding with artificial characters is not new. But this portal allows virtual influencers to become a notable real part of our reality as they themselves claim to be part of it, whether via music, fashion or fandom (or marriage, in the case of Miku’s now supposed husband, Akihiko Kondo).

The newest Miku update is Vocaloid 5, launched in 2018 and now more adaptable across formats and also available in Chinese, Spanish and Korean. As she shared on her instagram, Miquela dropped two singles this year and is still seeing her friends Blawko and Bermuda.

With coronavirus still very much a reality, the longing for a return to normal is absolutely understandable; however, with so much of our world changing, our world may never return to its pre-pandemic state. Instead, it is likely to return to a new normal, in which live streaming and virtual reality are not supplements for the live experience but directly part of it. Whether virtual musicians like Hatsune Miku or Miquela are a momentary fascination of our present or a glimpse into a very real future, one thing remains certain. Our potential digital future is much closer than we think. 

[beblebumm]

lesbian mom

My sister told me I dress like a lesbian mom. With no offense meant towards lesbian mothers because as Chloe put it- if I was a lesbian mom, my style would be closer to cool. But because up to this point in life I have been straight and childless, I’m just an appropriator. Which I definitely don’t want to be by the way, but I'm an American and blind appropriation is the American way. Working on it. I’m in the kitchen in Cedar Falls finding all my last sporadic, traveled with items to shove in my XL backpack* by the time Chloe brings her new opinion up to her roommates, my family. “Cathy, don’t you think Maddie looks like a lesbian mom?” “a what? A lesbian? I didn’t hear you” ...and dad’s reaction: “oh.. did you get a surrogate then?” * (United and Frontier front like they will be strict about charging you based on the sizes of your luggage, but they won't be. Apparently my size of backpack does not count as a personal item (free) but instead a carry-on (not free). It's a glutinous excuse for a backpack. However, they don’t say shit to you when you show up on the day of your flight. In the words of my friend Grace: If it's on your back and not on wheels, you're fine. I have had to repack a backpack once, throwing on a sweatshirt and carrying socks in my hand to make it through. But you know what that was? Free.And Fyi- U.S. airlines alone made 5.1 billion bucks in extra baggage fees in 2018. Don't contribute to that mess.) * But anyways, to come to the defense of lesbian moms, I think I dress with the best intention. I don’t think I have bad taste, but I can have bad execution. It's not entirely my fault though, as I feel bigger boobs make a lot of outfits merge towards mother. Tops are always an issue because you have the possibility of looking tenty, and opposite that- the issue of looking too tucked in. It can make the attempted effortlessness come off as starchy. I also straddle this line of wannabe skater and NOT wannabe school teacher, meaning I would love to come across as someone who deserves to wear Vans and less like someone who is reading to your child over snack time. That one is harder to explain, but has a lot to do with stripes. I don't bother running all of this past her, but I told Chloe that if I was flat-chested she wouldn’t be saying this. She didn’t argue but offered to help pay for my reduction. My dad and I get in the car after I make an everything bagel with some onion flavored cream cheese. A Thomas brand bagel, of course. Because it’s the cushiest and you can find them everywhere. We love a processed carb. He drives me to the airport in his new-but-used Toyota Highlander, which doesn’t reek of cigs like his previous whip. He only likes this new car because it has a cassette player, but the low mileage is a plus. I just want to say that the Cedar Rapids airport is low entertainment. It’s a trade-off because you are through security in seconds, but you have to do things like chase after people to hand them their ID’s they left on the counter to help the employees out because we’re Iowa nice and when in the homeland you have to act right. And people wear really ugly printed leggings and foul footwear. Lots of camo and lots of Hawkeye logos, which I do not identify with despite it being my alma mater. I was caught in a very vulnerable spot with my thick and tall Doc Marten's, (not a good airport shoe but a good everyday shoe so what can you do) hunched over the ‘Get Your Shit Back Together Very Quickly Bench’ that comes after security, when I see this rushed looking, young nerd man in a long black trench coat. He LOUDLY and SO abruptly asks this similarly aged gal he was coming up behind whether her hair was red or blonde. She had long red hair with dyed blonde ends. She said “red?” and he says nothing but “HUMPH” without breaking speed at all. Why did he need to know that and also why could he not see that her hair was both colors? And if he cared so much to know, then why did he not respond? Did he think this was considered to be hitting on her?? Because practically yelling at her to inquire about her appearance is not cutting it. I wish for his sake I could at least call him a boomer but he didn't meet the age requirement. Whatever. She looked around for confirmation that what had just happened to her was so weird, which of course I gave to her by saying: “That was so weird.” The sole restaurant by the gates has Blue Moon so that’s redeeming. But it’s in a tin can which is not so good. I used to prefer a draft pour with an orange slice but I am partial to a cold bottle now, plain- no orange. It’s more consistent this way, as some places don’t clean their draft lines regularly and it shows. I met an icon on my flight today. I, of course, was assigned my usual middle seat as I am certain I paid the littlest amount of airfare out of everyone on the plane. Deals only. But as I step up to my row and make that apologetic eye contact with the dude who is about to have to move and let me assume my usual middle spot, the guy asks me if I want to switch spots with his son- WHO HAS AN AISLE SEAT. YEAH SIR, I DO. And this is how I was seated next to the only stranger I’ve had an extended conversation with on an airplane, ever. At least to the point where I was sure I wanted to be buddies with her. She was not stoked on the middle seat, but it’s the one she had in our row. The icon is named Erin and she said: “I’ve been ignoring people on planes for 20 years but you seem like an absolute riot.” I realized I also tend to spend a lot of time ignoring people on airplanes. I actually spend more time trying not to bother the people around me, aka holding urine in until I am nearly bursting because the awkward fumbling out of my usual middle seat is too much. I did, however, have slight banter with a guy sitting next to me on the way into Iowa from Denver on this same trip. All he wanted to say to me was that he had just been skiing in Vail or something. People love being able to say sentences like this, by the way. "Skiing in Vail". It's supposed to impress whoever they tell. Ok. But later on, he and I would exchange terrified eyes as we watched this awful moment unfold after an older fellow in the row across from us ignored all social rules and played his voicemails on full blast, speaker volume, for about 10 minutes. A young gentleman near us let him know that “We can all hear that!” which I would have never said but was also thinking. Obviously. The Voicemail Blarer says “Oh sorry” calmly but is very caught off guard. I thought- wow. That went well. But the Voicemail Blarer takes all of 30 seconds to stew before erupting. He belly yells that he is a “WAR VETERAN AND THAT IS WHY I CANNOT HEAR OUT OF THIS EAR WHICH IS WHY MY PHONE IS ON SPEAKER AND BY THE WAY IM ON THIS FLIGHT BECAUSE MY MOM JUST DIED AND I AM FLYING BACK TO IOWA FOR THE FUNERAL. PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE AHHHHHHHHH KDFKSJDFLKJDFLJSDF”... I feel like the percentage of people flying to Iowa for funerals is probably a decent chunk. Either you're visiting your family or someone died. Just speculating. ANyways. The Mourning Vet Voicemail Blarer said some pretty harsh remarks towards the Complainer that I can’t remember because I was so nervous as a witness to this that my adrenaline was working overtime to suppress. I remember being proud of The Complainer as he kept very level and only said a couple words to defend himself followed by: “I’m sorry you’re going through that man but we don’t all need to hear your voicemails.” I see both sides of this interaction. On the younger Complainer dude’s side, it’s not socially courteous for the vet to be playing his voicemails out loud. Especially for ten minutes. I mean Larry David would have lost it. On the other hand, no one was insulting his status as a vet or poking fun at his late mother, but he has obviously been through more life and more challenges than I and plus he’s grieving. I don’t know. I didn’t mind the voicemails THAT much. Back to today- Erin is the second stranger I’ve met who inspired me this month. Technically this year, and technically this decade, too. Happy 2020. From what I saw, she’s a kick-ass, take no shit, lay it all on the table kind of individual. She had a natural openness about her and radiated warmness but is the type to probably gaurd herself just enough. The kind of person who you would hate to see sad. Born in cedar rapids, went to Iowa for Journalism, got her masters at Syracuse. Has lived all over- New York, London, LA (I think she said). Will not donate to her old sorority, Chi O, because she can’t affiliate with that anymore because it’s lame. But she’s loyal enough to one of her sorority besties to fly to Denver and sit with her while she undergoes a chemo treatment. She asks me about work and I say I have enough side hustles to equate to having a real job. She tells me I need a podcast and says I must have been told this before. I haven’t. But If I had one, I would have her guest star immedieately. She oozes content. Apparently, there’s such a thing as coaching people on how to talk on camera because this is her job. It can be split up into different categories based on the size of the screen. Phone, computer, TV, etc. She kept saying things about “inches”. I thought this was wildly specific, exactly the sort of job you wouldn’t think about until you thought about it. Niche. Hopefully future me is doing something niche right now. But only if I'm enjoying it. She also mentioned some clients she has that I should speak to so I can learn how to travel the world for free. I could have clung to her and never let go after she said this, as that would make my life and her encouragement inspired me. Before this though, we agree I need a credit card that rewards with airline miles instead of cashback. It’s third up on my “to-do now” list- which is different than my “to-do” list becasue that one is for things like making dentist appointments. For the things that should not be put off but can and will be. Until they can't. She asks what my sign is, which is Sagittarius. She said of course. She’s a Virgo. I have no clue what this means. People ask me this sort of thing a lot now though so I need to read up. This guy I met recently who works at Wax Trax Records told me not only extensively about my sign but about my rising moon and one other part of it that I can’t remember. Or is it your rising sign and moon sign as separates? Idk. He told me that every girl he knows has an ex-boyfriend who is a Pisces. True. Erin also told me she’s on some board in Iowa City that is currently discussing the ped mall. I had a lot to say about THAT, as I feel the ped mall has turned into wasted space other than maybe one and a half shops. She agrees. It’s not being utilized like it should be, we think. Too many frat bars. Apparently, her family owns the Bluebird cafes or used to, and I said "ooooooooh!" but that I could never get a seat in the Iowa City location because every hungover kid within a ten mile radius is trying to eat there every Saturday and Sunday morning. I also thought of the time they burned my friend Madison Wood’s toast and she sent it back. I didn’t tell her this though. I like Bluebird. And I hate when people at my table complain about the food. She tells me I'm too good to write for random freelances, which I have dipped my toes into doing. Pays like shit. I agree and listen to her tell me about someone she met when she was just one year sober (she is now ten years along) who pushed her to take charge of her own point of view. It sounded to me like she was inspired to trust and invest in herself. I liked that. As if I needed another excuse to stay out of corporate America. Right before she fell into meditation and soon to be sleep, Erin comments on my middle part and my “nice natural eyebrows” which is funny because I helped the brows out right before going through security. (By helped out, I mean makeup-ed. In the airport bathroom, too far away from the mirror, two different pencils- one chubby for careless shading and one skinnier to help the endpoints of my brow that is otherwise dead.) On the topic of my appearance, I tell her that my sister had just told me that I dress like a lesbian mother. She said she loves my sister.

[songficsbyrissi]

Same Girl (T’Challa x Black Reader x Erik Killmonger? 😧)

Warnings: Swearing (of course), sexual content, slight fuckery, Reader is on some bullshit

“We messing with the same girl, the same girl She's the apple of my eye and my potential wife The same girl, the same girl Man, I just can't believe that we been messing around With the same damn girl.” - R. Kelly and Usher A/N: ok I don’t know what possessed me to write this but I wrote it 🤣 I know y’all heard the legendary song that is Same Girl which I know word by word by heart. Fun fact: I used to sing it all the time in my senior English class with my high school friend to annoy my teacher. Anyways, Reader is gonna be a fuckgirl in this oneshot so let’s get our ain’t shitness onnnnn.

*************

“Ahh my beautiful Y/N, I wish I could be in Oakland with you.” T’Challa sighed looking at you amorously through the screen of your rose gold iPhone. “But duty calls, love.” “And I completely understand. I’ll be counting down the minutes you come back to me, honey.” You replied as you lathered your body up with cocoa butter. You were fresh out of the shower when one of your boo’s T’Challa called you for your night calls. He was so sweet and loved to call you every night to hear your voice last. “I know you will. Good night, inkosazana.” You giggled at his pet name. “I think I’m catching onto your language. That means princess, right?” A bright smile came across his face. “Yes it does because that’s what you are. A princess.” You cooed holding your chest. “Aww you are such a sweetheart! Good night, handsome.” You blew kisses at the phone and hung up. You looked up to your door entrance to see your friend/roommate Isabel shaking her head at you. “Tsk tsk tsk.” She clicked her tongue in disapproval which caused you to groan and roll your eyes. “Bitch, what?” Isabel stepped inside your bedroom with her hands on her hips. “How are you going to be playing that man like that?” You waved her off and continued getting dressed. “Girl, I’m just having fun. No strings attached. Besides, we never said we were in a relationship so if I mess with other dudes, it’s not wrong.” Why should you feel bad? Niggas do it all the time. They always have multiple girls in their phone that they’re talking to whether they’re in a committed relationship or not. No one even bats an eye or condemn him for his actions. They find a way to blame the girls and call them stupid. When the roles reversed, it’s still your fault? “So you mean to tell me if African boo was to fuck another shorty, you wouldn’t be upset?” When you shook your head, Isabel snorted. “You are full of shit, Y/N. And you know it.” “Girl, why you all up in my pussy? I’m young and having fun. If I wanna mess with more than one guy, I can do that shit because I’m grown. Niggas be fucking with multiple girls all the time and y’all don’t tell them shit. I’m tired of the double standard.” You checked your other phone, a silver iPhone, trying to see if Erik, your other boo thang, hit you up yet. “Oh shut up. If you wanna be a fuckgirl, just own that shit. Don’t pull the double standard card. I know for a fact both of these niggas you’re fucking with have no clue they’re not the only ones. You gave them the impression that you’re their girl. Don’t lie. Shit, that’s why you got two phones.” She raised an eyebrow with a face that was daring you to lie. You put your hands up in defeat. “Ok, ok! But I never explicitly said I was their girl! They just assumed and I ran with it. T’Challa is a sweet, romantic gentleman but Erik is a hood nigga that treats me right and down to do some hood rat things. They’re everything I want a man but in 2 separate men. Why not date both?” Isabel shook her head for the hundredth time. “Your logic is fucked up but makes sense. Anyway, this shit is gonna blow up in your face. Everything that happens in the dark comes to the light.” “Girl please. I’m too good at this. I’ve got both of these niggas wrapped around my finger. The only way is up.” You smiled slyly as your phone lit up with a text from Erik. You ran quickly past her and went straight for the door, flinging it open. There stood Erik, in all his fineness. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, grey sweats and Nike slides, just like you instructed him to. “Hey Erik.” You leaned against the door frame biting your lip. “Hey ma. I missed your sexy ass.” He said stepping inside and kissing your lips. “Show me how much you missed me.” You whispered seductively causing Erik to throw you over his shoulder and march to your bedroom. You smirked knowing you were truly living your best life. **************************** T’Challa sat in his office attempting to get his work done but thoughts of you clouded his mind. Your smooth skin, beautiful face, beautiful hair, and lovely smile. Everything about you had him wanting more and more of you. He wanted to call you but it was the morning. He knew you liked to sleep in so he didn’t bother calling. T’Challa wanted to tell somebody about you but he would face too much judgement being a king and falling for an American woman. Suddenly, he knew who wouldn’t judge him. His cousin N’Jadaka who also went by Erik. “Ughhhh T, the resource centers are straight. I already told you this. When you gonna trust a nigga?” Erik groaned when he answered the phone. “Ahh N’Jadaka, I’m not calling about that.” T’Challa stated still in his trance. Erik raised an eyebrow as he started his black 2018 Audi. “You’re not? Then why you calling me?” “Because I have deep feelings for this woman I met in America. I had to tell you this. She is so wonderful, umzala.” Erik snickered as he drove away from your apartment building. “Ahhh shit. It’s about time. I was beginning to think your ass was gay.” T’Challa ignored his last comment. “Yes it is about time. I believe she is the one for me.” Erik snorted. “Shit I guess we really are cousins then because I’m feeling a shorty too. Tell me about your girl then, nigga. I feel like she’s white. If you ain’t gay, you seem like the type to like colonizer coochie.” “She is not a colonizer, N’Jadaka.” T’Challa pinched the bridge of his nose out of annoyance. He was beginning to regret calling him. “She is a beautiful black woman.” “Oh shit! She’s black?! And American?! Nigga, tell me more.” Erik pulled into the driveway of his home. He was even more intrigued, dying to know what black woman that wasn’t Nakia gave his “soft ass cousin” the time of day. “Yes, cousin. She is so beautiful. Her hair, her smile is just perfect. She dresses well and has a captivating body. She is funny and smart. A complete vixen. I met her in Oakland.” “Oakland? I might know her. What’s her name, cousin?” Erik turned off the ignition. “Ahh her name is so beautiful. Her name is Y/N.” Erik dropped his phone at the sound of your name. He began to sweat at his brow then laughed it off. He must be talking about another girl by that name but curiosity got the best of him and he had to ask. “Um, cousin? Do she live in a nice little condo and have a roommate named Isabel?” Erik laughed nervously and T’Challa’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Yes she does.” Erik shook his head in denial as he exited the car and entered his house. No, he couldn’t be talking about you. But how many bitches in Oakland are named Y/N with a roommate named Isabel? “That’s funny. My girl is named Y/N and has a roommate named Isabel too. That’s crazy.” Erik chuckled some more and sighed. “So what kind of car does she drive?” T’Challa sat up in his chair trying to understand what Erik was getting at. “A red Toyota. She told me it was a gift from her father.” “And she loves In and Out?” “......yes.” “FUCK!” Erik dropped his phone and paced his halls up and down. “THIS IS SOME FUCKING BULLSHIT! HOW THE HELL! YO! WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!” T’Challa heard his cousin continue to yell curse words away from the phone. “N’Jadaka?” He called for him. “Are you saying you know her?” Erik picked up the phone in a haste. “Yes nigga I know her! I really knew her last night!” Erik sighed punching a wall. “We messing with the same fucking girl, T!” T’Challa shook his head as if his cousin could see him. “No. Impossible! This can not be!” Erik pulled the phone away from his ear and found a sexy picture of you that you sent to him. He sent it to the other man and waited. “Check your phone, T’Stupid.” T’Challa looked at the picture and dropped his phone just like Erik did earlier. “SHIT!” He shouted away from the phone angrily and continue to curse in Xhosa. He paced his office still cursing then picked up his phone. “We are involved with the same woman, N’Jadaka!” “Yeah. No shit. That’s what I said.” Erik sighed rubbing his face then slammed his fist on the table. “We gotta catch this trick!” T’Challa was confused. “Why should we play a trick on her? We must confront her in her indiscretions.” Erik sucked his teeth not knowing who he was more frustrated with. T’Challa for not knowing his slang by now or himself for assuming he did. “Man, just bring your ass to Oakland ASAP.” Erik hung up groaning and shook his head. “This nigga. Out of all the niggas Y/N could’ve played me with, she chose this nigga. That’s that shit.” Once T’Challa had his affairs in order, he hopped on an “emergency” flight to Oakland. Erik picked him up from the airport and they had a little staredown when T’Challa got in the car. Erik snorted shaking his head and putting his car in drove T’Challa squinted his eyes. “What, N’Jadaka?” “Out of all the niggas in this world, I was sharing pussy with your ass. This is some bullshit. Did you even ask her if she had a man?” “She said no. Did you?” Erik groaned gripping the steering wheel. “Yes and her ass said no. She told me she wanted my ass once she first saw me.” T’Challa hit his forehead. “She told me the same thing! What should we do?” Erik pulled out his phone smirking with a plan on his mind. He asked Siri to call your phone and you picked up with no idea you’ve been caught up. “Hi papi!” You cooed on the other line and T’Challa made a face of disgust, wanting to say something but Erik gestured him to shut up. “Yo what’s going on, ma? This is last minute but I wanna take your fine ass out to eat tonight. I hope you ain’t got nothing planned.” T’Challa was confused as to why Erik was making plans to go to dinner with your deceitful ass. Was he not ready to wring your neck five minutes ago? “I always got time for you, baby. Let’s meet at TGI Friday’s at 8.” You replied ‘This lying hoe.’ Erik thought but instead said, “Aight bet. See you at 8.” Once Erik hung up, T’Challa shot him a confused and frustrated look as Erik kept a smirk on his face. “Why are you making dinner plans with the woman who has been playing games with the both of us?” Erik glances at him chuckling. “Don’t worry, cousin. I got a plan.” In another part of Oakland, your dumbass was getting for this date you had with your boo with no clue that you done showed your ass and all the shit you’ve been doing is going to blow up in your face. But we’ll let you rock for now. Anyway, you get dressed in your grey ripped skinny jeans and white crop top. You purposely put on a crop top to show off your belly button piercing that Erik loves so much. You put on strapped sandals to show off your fresh white painted toes, which was every nigga’s weakness. Once your makeup was done, you admired yourself in the mirror. Shit, you might be able to get a third nigga looking this fine. You picked your braid out, fluffed it, and made your way out the door. “Don’t wait up for me, sis!” You smirked to Isabel who laid on the leather sofa watching Empire. “I’m most likely getting dick for the second night in a row.” Isabel shook her head with her eyes still on the TV. “You do you. Just know God don’t like ugly, sis.” “With that logic, God don’t like you, bitch!” You cackled exiting your condo and walking towards your car. You hopped into your Toyota and drove to the restaurant. Once you parked, you went inside and found Erik waiting in a booth facing you. You smiled strutting over to him and sliding in the opposite side of the booth. “Hey boo.” You leaned over to peck his lips and sat back down. “You gonna feed me good?” “Oh Imma be feeding you good, alright.” He bit his bottom lip seductively and you grinned getting turned on. “But first, let me introduce to my cousin real quick.” You sighed because you thought this was a casual one on one date but this nigga got you meeting his family now? Whatever. You’ll entertain it. It couldn’t hurt meeting his cousin, right? You looked up and your face turned stone cold as your heart picked up its pace. There was your boo, T’Challa, taking a seat right next to Erik, your other boo, in the crimson booth. They both looked at you with devious smirks on their faces and you gulped nervously. How the fuck did you not know the two niggas you were messing with were cousins? You are so fucked. “Nice to see you, Y/N.” T’Challa spoke slowly with a face that basically said “you’ve been caught, bitch.” “Um....” You were speechless as fuck. You’re pretty sure you had “dumb bitch” written on your forehead. You were beyond embarrassed and wished the ground would swallow you up. You were a good person, you didn’t deserve this.............okay, maybe you did. You did mess with two guys at once. “You see, Y/N. I’ve noticed that my cousin and I have a lot in common. We both speak Xhosa fluently, we are both right-handed-“ “We both ate your ass!” Erik snapped cutting T’Challa off. You scanned your surroundings praying nobody heard his loud ass. A couple of people looked at you guys and you hid your face in shame. Aww shit. T’Challa stared at Erik with a stunned expression. “I....I never ate her ass, N’Jadaka.” You peeked up to see Erik’s eyes widen and his mouth form an O as he pointed at you accusingly. “You......made me eat your ass?! And this nigga didn’t do it?!” Erik pointed his thumb at T’Challa. “Um, well, see, you, um, I, You-“ Erik mimicked you as he stared at you in annoyance. “Now you can’t speak English?! I don’t even be eating ass but I ate yours! Because I thought I loved you, girl!” “Ain’t nobody force you to do it!” You found your voice. As Erik continued being melodramatic to himself, T’Challa discreetly pushed Erik’s drink away from his and cleared his throat. “The point is, you have been playing the both of us which is unfair and hurtful, Y/N. I really had feelings for you. I thought I loved you as well. Do you care to explain yourself and apologize for hurting us when all we did was treat you so well?” T’Challa’s words made you realize you were a complete piece of shit. Both of them did treat you like a queen and what you did was fucked up. Your mama raised you better than this. You stared at both of them sadly and felt a huge weight on your heart. These two wonderful men that you had the nerve to play with like that. They deserve apologies. You opened your mouth. “Well, T’Challa, you see-“ You didn’t finish grabbing your purse and running out the booth. You were RUNNING RUNNING. You were deadass bolting to your car and got in quickly starting the ignition and driving off. You called Isabel on your phone and she picked on the second ring. “Yo.” “Bitch, they are fucking cousins! Cousins! T’Challa and Erik! They are fucking cousins and fucking found out I was messing with both of them! Bitch, both of them showed up to the restaurant!” You shouted even though you were completely out of breath. “Bitch, I got all the way caught up! Shit!” Isabel was laughing her ass off on the other line. You knew she was holding your stomach and tears were probably coming out. You sucked your teeth hard. “I TOLD YOU GOD DON’T LIKE UGLY! I WARNED YOUR ASS BUT FUCK ISABEL, RIGHT? YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DO CLOWNERY? THE CLOWN COMES BACK TO BITE, YOU STUPID HOE!” She continued to cackle and you rolled your eyes trying to calm yourself so you don’t kill your roommate once you make it back in the condo. “I’m glad you entertained by this shit.” You replied sarcastically as you pulled up to a red light. Isabel continued to giggle and finally calmed down. “I don’t feel sorry for your dumbass. Now what did we learn?” She sung the last part. “I learned that......I gotta start asking these niggas about their families and shit. Now I know, the next time I’m fucking with two niggas at the same time, let me make sure they don’t know each other at all.” Isabel sighed deeply. “Y/N, I love you but you are dumb as hell.”

******************************

Lmao Y/N was out of there like:

Translation:

Umzala - cousin

Tags: @marvelpotterlove @dramaqueenamby @brianabreeze @blackpinup22 @cancerianprincess @brattywriters-anonymous @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @ljstraightnochaser @airis-paris14 @vibranium-chakra @yourfavoritefavorite @nerd-lovely @slimmiyagi @purple-apricots @ohliyaxoxo

[durfeehtbelloraco98insuranc-blog]

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jeep car insurance new driver

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