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The Tesla CyberTruck is ugly as hell and looks like something a 10 year drew in art class using a ruler and got a "D" for because it looked like crap.
The Tesla marketing group was tasked with making it more appealing to the US market and one guy came up with this solution and a matching slogan "This is the car Greg Brady would buy today!"
- while feigning interest in this option, most of the review board were fantasizing about boffing Marcia instead.
Time, and more specifically the way in which we interact with it, is weird.
A few nights ago, I was searching around for recipe inspiration. One of the threads which popped up was the Gourmet thread here on MT, which makes sense given the keywords I was using.
It was a post which I made here about three years ago, patting myself on the back for having mastered the absolute hell out of a pastry recipe which I had been warring with at the time.
And then the very next post after that, the next morning, was me saying that I'd just learned that my father died the day before, and that was kind of weirdly feel-ey at the time (despite the fact that we'd not spoken in decades), because the post I'd made about the pastry recipe talked in depth about how it wasn't actually specific a recipe per se, but more of a memory from my childhood, which was my very most favorite thing in Hato Rey in 1981 or thereabouts, which I vividly recalled walking down to Panadería La Viña in the morning along with my father to pick up, along with two fresh loaves of Cuban bread.
Every single morning.
Several posts later, Braineack said:
Originally Posted by Braineack
:(
beats finding out about your grandma 2 years later...
(pictures of food)
And then I replied with:
Originally Posted by Joe Perez
Honestly, I more distraught when Lexie the chihuahua died a few years ago. She was the bestest little fuzzbutt.
Ok, so we're all on the same page, we're now talking about dead parents, dead grandmas, and dead dogs all within the space of like a dozen posts.
And, for context, this is me now speaking to you in real-time. Because I didn't go out searching for this extremely awkward topic to write a rant about,
Ooooh, no. As proof that God is not merely NOT dead, but is in fact ALIVE, and living in his mother's basement in Peebles, Ohio... My own mother, a woman who I cherish and respect, elected not to mention to me until twenty minute ago that Milosevic, the chihuahua-based embodiment of a theoretical black hole which absorbs only food and belly-rubs, and the second-bestest little fuzzbutt ever to waddle the Earth, died a month ago.
So I seem weirdly calm about this?
I feel concerned that a neutral observer might judge that I am being suspiciously calm about this.
Photo of Milo absorbing energy from me in the form of belly-rubs:
"Oh, yea... Sorry. I know we've spoken several times since then, it just didn't occur to me to tell you that the being which you share a special bond with stopped being alive quite some time ago."
Like, you can't use profanity against your own mother because, you know... you can't.
But fockthermoemeter, I loved that dimwitted little monochrome ****-for-brains.
Sucks that your buddy’s gone, Joe. At least you didn’t have to decide his time was up - it took me a lot of years to get another dog after having to say “No, I think it’s better to let her go now.” I really dread doing that again, but still didn’t stop us.
this is interesting because we are pretty sure Pookie has cancer and is slowly dying in front of me.
Here I'm absorbing his last remaining fluff-butt energy.
Worse was, his symptoms started right after Sonny basically died in front of us in mid July so we attributed some of his behavior changes to the loss (they were always together). One minute I called him upstairs to hang out in the office as we were doing a project, about 5min later I turn around and he was dead on the floor. Nothing like finding your cat dead after just playing with him, burying him in the backyard, then going back to finish your project...
this is the last photo i took of Sonny, I JUST put that bird feeder there to attract that chipmunk that he was always starting out -- it would sit on the front porch -- so i wanted to lure him in closer. I'm glad he got to enjoy it at least once.
I mean, here we all are on the eve of the historically inaccurate two-thousand and somethingth birthday of a guy who some people believe got nailed to a tree for saying that everyone should be nice to each other, and we have thus far collected:
One dead father
Two dead dogs
One dead cat, and
One cat which appears to be fading from this mortal coil.
The next post which appears in this thread is going to have to be something along the lines of "Oh, did I forget to mention that I grew up next door to The Girl In The Red Coat" in order to not break the trend.
Or maybe some Pony / Furry ****.
And, oh, btw, it turns out that my sister (the one who has had two separate bilateral lung transplants and has basically no immune system at all) is presently in the hospital yet again with an as-yet-undiagnosed infection which is filling her lungs with a mucus which is sufficiently lightweight that it can be removed by periodically pumping salt-water into her lungs and then very quickly sucking all of the liquid out again before she actually dies of drowning.
Because, apparently, that is actually a routine therapy which they do at Mayo.