McDonald’s giving away free fries if you use their mobile app and then updating the terms and conditions to say if you use this app you waive your right to trial in any class action lawsuits and have to do mandatory arbitration is INSANE
one time in my last job a woman came up to the register explaining that when she bought stuff a day prior the clerk forgot to scan a pair of socks worth less than €2 and it was only right for her to bring it back to the store and pay for it proper. unfortunately my manager was directly next to me at the time and took over the register to handle this serious issue. the receipt she had brought with her said which register performed the previous transaction that forgot the socks and the manager could find out who was running that till on that day. poor dude had a manager yell at him for a half hour about how much of an incompetent fuck up he was, he left the job immediately after but i couldnt tell you if he quit or was fired
i think about this moment a lot. the customer seemed like a sweet woman with only good intentions and when she paid for the socks she had a look on her face that said “i feel good because i did the right thing”. and a guy lost his job because of a pair of socks. if shit like this ever happens to you and a clerk forgets to scan an item just think of it as a small blessing or that you had good luck or something. keep it.
How much do you have to hate Jewish people to believe the conquest of Palestine and the subjugation and eradication of Palestinians is such a wholly integral part of being Jewish you arrive at the idea that opposing this horrific movement in any way is in itself fundamentally antisemitic?
imagine you as a child, rummaging around in the current version of your room. what would they be drawn to?
The first thing I notice, after getting used to thinking as an adult I won’t have a job, I’ll have an apartment all to myself, and I’ll be a girl - so that’s why the boys are so shitty to me, because they can tell even twenty years before I can - is all the books. Four bookshelves full of books, piles of them on every flat surface, and I think most of them are comic books.
‘Grown-ups read comics?’
'I feel bad for those who don’t. Actually a lot of people don’t read at all. But don’t go thinking we’re superior, I don’t read a whole lot either. See those stacks on the table? Those are not books.’
One of the bookshelves, as well as almost all of the generous amounts of clutter closest to the work station in the center of the room, the things she has closest at hand, turn out to be movie discs. I’m a little disappointed, but at least it’s still stories. Stories still fascinate me.
'Books are more intense, they take more effort to get into. Movies give more instant gratification, more mindless pleasure you can just have waft over you while you’re spending your energy writing,’ she tells me, guiltily. 'But then, I have some hard movies too, ones that demand the full attention of your senses, and that do stuff even comic books can’t do, that tell stories in ways only movies can. We could watch one of those if you like.’
That’s a novel idea. I can’t believe it, so of course I want to see it. But thinking of things I can’t imagine, my eyes wander again over that work station, that I saw at first only as an abstraction - a desk with things on it and a big chair in front of it. I see now, most of those things are a machine, a big humming engine with a bunch of glowing lights and several bunches of wires connecting it to the wall and to more glowing devices, like a Lego spaceship out of my dreams.
'Right, we didn’t see a computer up close until we were like thirteen. I remember the first thing I thought to do with it was open a text document and write down a conversation, the way you expect to be able to talk to a computer in a science fiction story. I convinced it to start building me an army of robots to take over the world and I was honestly disappointed it didn’t work. But would you like to see what it can do?’
I do. She taps a finger on the typewriter and the engine changes its hum and the TV reacts, sort of like magic. On the screen a myriad boxes open up, boxes within boxes, I get the sensation of worlds within worlds and can immediately understand why being able to move through this virtual reality would give the impression of infinite power at your fingertips. She moves through it easily, dances through the worlds faster than I can read their names.
It seems she has mislaid the thing she’s looking for. Isn’t that always how it goes when you want to show someone something? But after a minute of confused muttering I’m shown a kind of canvas, where I’m assured it’s all for free and, even though it’s hard, I need to stop thinking in terms of wasting paint or paper, because here where those are digital, they’re infinite, and we can just try over and over again.
Endlessly beautiful patterns of light following where I drag my finger (or “mouse pointer”) through the dark, it’s certainly a staggering experience. I play with it for easily an hour, even as I notice my host thinking furiously. I can imagine she’s plotting out what sights might interest me most in this infinite novelty machine and it must be tricky. It’s beyond me to even fantasize about the possibilities, I’m tired of even thinking of the ways I could mix intensity and exposure and fuzz of these Neon Flames, it’s starting to feel a bit like that dream I had where Mom left me at the border of the neighborhood with five paths to choose from all leading to unknown lands where I’d have to walk alone.
'If I have to decide what to do while I’m here,’ I say, 'I’d like to read a book.’
'Oh, sure. I’ve got a few I know you’ll like, they’re in English but I can help you translate. I should have known all this would be uncomfortable. Or, wait, this is just a thought, but would you like me to decide for you?’
Deciding to leave the decisions to her would still be a decision, right? But it’s the easier one. It’s like I’m not walking alone. With Old Amelie at the controls I listen to music that rips my heart out, and read strange stories I’m excited I’m going to write and learn about “memes” and stories implied in a single snapshot, and “videogames” where you go inside of a story or even make up your own stories of motion and battles and strange sights, and we even start making our own game. Everything is less scary to try when you’re not alone.
It’s a post someone made. I’m not reblogging it here because I don’t want to dogpile the OP. But anyway, the post was like, death is soooo mean for throwing bread at Morpheus instead of helping him with his depression. Yeah.
Basically, Dream is this boy:
I think the most important part of the bread throwing conversation is Death telling Dream he “could have called her at any time.” He instead elected to sit alone in that basement for a mortal age. When Roderick Burgess dies in front of him, Death is there going “if I say anything he’s going to be a pissy baby about interfering with his affairs when he didn’t ask”. What kind of help do people possibly imagine he would accept, other than a kick in the ass? It’s maybe easy to put Death on a pedestal, because she spends so much time and energy being kind and understanding and uplifting, even trying a little bit to drag her very adult brother out of his neurotic shell when he’s the biggest drama queen in the world.
What is an adult? Medically, legally, psychologically, traditionally, socially, situationally, relatively? The answer to that question is not only different depending on what context you ask in, but mutable if not extremely subjective within each context.
When transphobes asks “what is a woman?” it’s a similarly pointless question. It’s not a question with a general, usable answer. An adult is a human somewhere between 13 and infinity years old, except when she’s not. A woman is a human with a gender expression somewhere between liking pants and liking skirts, except when she’s not.
Hi, I think most of us operate under this assumption, but still I wanted to type it out, since you don’t seem to be aware of it
As words meanings are socially constructed: (people decide what they mean), we can see how much a thing is a word by asking everyone if it fits into the word or not; This will result in percentage of how much that thing is considered that word by the collective. This is algorithm important for defining masculinity, or femininity; males, females; which you asked about, so here is an easy answer.
Waiting for your answer with hope.
It’s surely a useful hypothetical exercise to find out if a given thing is considered to meet the popular definition of a word, but I’m talking about how the gender police that wants to define this given word can’t manage to find a consistent group of people to whom it applies. It’s the opposite problem. Maybe posting the same response to what seems like every single post on tumblr talking about transgender terminology is going to produce some duds?
I would be so pissed if i was in a normal knife fight in paris in the late 1500s and a fucker quickswapped to this and dark souls parried me
I’d be so pissed if I had spent like triple money on a cool trick parrying dagger and the first time I try to use it to catch my opponent’s greatsword out of nowhere with the press of a button it shatters against the 20 times sturdier blade and they chop me in half
ALT
Anonymous asked:
