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Next time someone wants to fight on the street, I'll be ready to settle it in seconds flat:

When douchebags think they're funny.

Allrighty then.

that really sucks, Cain.  But you have someone higher up in your corner?

Not that I know of.  But I have, at the very least, access to people who could overrule the pointy head brigade, if they were convinced.

What do you have to do to convince them?

Yep, it was love at first sight for me too.

Next time someone wants to fight on the street, I'll be ready to settle it in seconds flat:

At my temp job for a child company of a major bank, I'm responsible for managing the scanner and computer portion of a project involving the sorting and digitizing of a huge room full of documents.

Every day I have to go unlock their server closet, grab a laptop in the morning, and return it at the end of the day. I always pause and have a silent conversation with the server rack that blinks at me in the cool darkness with it's tangled mass of cables and quiet hum. My what a tall machine you are. I think of the video clip of Aaron Swartz for a moment and then go about my business.

So far, they have had two conferences just next to my cubicle, where I got to hear their CFO on speakerphone droning on about deposits, selling "products", and how no one knows what LIBOR rates will be in the future.

I was very convinced.

I also crushed it on my bicycle last week: just over 100 miles in 5 days. I managed to gain 7 pounds and an infinity of pure hatred in the process.

Somewhere along the way I lost every last shred of fear of motorized vehicles. I rode on a street with no bike lanes and a 50 mph speed limit and gave zero fucks as semi trucks barreled past me about 3 feet away.

It's not that I have a death wish, I have lights running on my bike night and day. I have industrial grade reflective tape all over my frame. I signal and stop at every stop sign. I abide by all of the laws. But every last asshole here has tinted windows, so you usually can't tell if someone is about to get out of their car. The only practical thing to do is ride on the leftmost white line designating the bike lane or a good four feet from parked cars if there isn't one. Which pisses off drivers that don't understand the concept of not slamming into some idiot's suddenly open door.

One of these days someone is going to pull over to road rage on me and I will introduce them to the "flying bicycle" technique.

I'm looking forward to reading about it, Dok.

Today I applied for a program that, if I get in, will make me eligible for funding that would pay me a wage for the time I spend in the lab working on my neurogenesis project, which would be awesome because that would make me that much more likely to have a publishable paper by the end of next year.

Nice! I hope you get it!


Yes he is.

The Richard Nixon school of ballet and the arts / Re: BIG MAN PLANS
« on: April 18, 2015, 08:52:26 am »
When I am rich, I will buy student debt and abolish it instead of collecting it.

When I am rich, I will start a reality TV show called "Who Wants to Eat a Billionaire?"

When I am rich, I will lead pelotons through heavy traffic with one of these:

Literate Chaotic / Re: Five word horror
« on: April 13, 2015, 10:46:25 am »
Descending colon filled with bees

Yeah, it might hurt to get your anal canal stung a few times. But maybe it would be worth it if you could jettison your payload and fill a room full of bankers with a cloud of angry, poopy bees.

Things I hate: When people ask me how it's going and then make suggestions that start with "why don't you...". What is that? I didn't ask for advice. You asked for an update. If I knew that was going to be a lead-in to a conversation in which I'm explaining why I don't do the thing you're suggesting, I would have given a curt one-word answer and cut that shit off at the pass.

I offer unsolicited advice more often than I'd like to admit.

In the moment I think I'm being oh so helpful and clever, and then end up apologizing for being a paternalistic fucknut. In my case, I think it stems from a pretentious sense of superiority and a failure to appreciate the unstated complexities of someone's situation.

Literate Chaotic / Re: Five word horror
« on: April 11, 2015, 03:47:55 am »
The head transplant failed horribly.
The head lived for weeks.
There was so much blood.
The surgeon checked himself in.
He couldn't stop hearing it.

yea, the scary bit is that people can justify that type of shit using just your average standard out of the box human brain. A CEO that exploits child labor to make obscene profits probably isnt a sociopath, at least as it applies to people he actually knows. He probably has plenty of empathy for people he knows and works with and considers part of his "tribe". the problem is that your average human brain can only fit about 200 or so people in this tribe mentality and everyone else doesnt really seem like a person as far as our moral decision making goes. outside of our own little monkeysphere, people seem less like people and more like an idea of people, which is a lot easier to throw under the bus for profit when compared to your buddy Steve.

Yeah, the more removed people are from our immediate experience the easier it is to rationalize, ignore, or even blame the victims of horrible suffering—people don't need some pathological condition to be cruel, selfish pieces of shit.

Though it seems that the more we become aware of these shitty, unconscious predispositions, the more we generally do to counteract them. So at least there's that.

Literate Chaotic / Re: Five word horror
« on: April 10, 2015, 09:19:14 pm »
Ok, I think this helps.

It all started pleasantly enough.  Yesterday, the shadow grew again.  Strange shapes blackened the sky.  The walls kept changing color.  There’s something outside the window.  Her eyes widened in anticipation.  It was an insular community.  We thought they were dead.  But they were dead, yesterday…  There wasn’t time to scream. 

The sun didn’t rise today.  No one sees color here.  They don’t remember the difference.  It is inside the house.  That night, I wasn’t alone.  A voice said, “You die”. There shouldn’t be visitors tonight.  Didn’t I lock this door?

I spoke into the silence.  “I’m not usually like this.  I can’t feel my legs.” 

She said, “I got this.”  She had too many teeth.  Time slowed to a stop.  “This won’t hurt a bit.”  The anesthesia didn’t quite work.  The scab came off again.  It had been an eye.  Below, rows of sharp teeth.  I think those are teeth.  “It’s curable, for a price.”

My voice seemed far away.  “I can’t find the baby.  I have these horrible urges.” 

“They know, they just don’t care.”  Her eyes followed the wound.  “This isn’t my real face.” 

But there was no face…


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