New paper: every law in America is technically public. But not really, until now!
With @DenisPeskoff at UC Berkeley, we built a corpus of ~every publicly accessibly city and county law, and released a huge chunk of it!
2.2 million laws, you're (probably) covered in it!
🧵
Social media trends have turned the world’s most beautiful places into endless bathroom lines at a concert, where everyone waits for hours just to take the same photo to show to people who couldn’t care less 🌎📸
Nothing captures the shallow decay of our time better than this
In America, a warehouse store. A fully roasted chicken costs five dollars, the raw chicken beside it costs seven, and I stood between them like a man between two truths.
Golden. Hot. Seasoned. Spinning in glory under the lights, in a line of its brothers. Four dollars and ninety-nine cents.
I checked the raw birds. Seven dollars. Pale. Cold. You must do everything yourself.
This is not commerce. Commerce does not move backward. Somewhere in this building, mathematics lies defeated.
I asked the man at the counter. "How is the cooked bird cheaper than the raw bird?"
"Been five bucks forever. They keep it that way."
"But the store loses."
"Yep. On purpose."
On purpose. I held my receipt with both hands.
In my land, a lord who lowered the price of rice in a hard winter was remembered for generations. They built him a small shrine. This store does it every day, with chicken, and tells no one.
A woman behind me grew tired of my reverence. "It's just a chicken, sir."
It is not just a chicken. It is a wound the merchant takes on purpose, so that anyone, on any day, with five dollars, eats like a lord. The bird is the message. The price is the vow.
I will confess: I bought two. I did not need two. The second was not hunger. It was gratitude, and it was delicious.
Some prices are not prices. They are promises.
I return every week now. I take one bird. I bow toward the deli, briefly, so as not to alarm the staff. They have begun nodding back.
The vow holds. The bird turns. Five dollars.
Long may it spin.
One thing that needs to be studied is how “farmer’s market” used to mean “farmer’s market”
…and now it means “open-air pop-up shop with laser cut wood signs, 3D-printed fidget toys, and some lady bedazzling Stanley tumblers
Never stop saying "dozen" and "half dozen". Never stop using the word you read in an old novella. Never stop using your regional jargon. Don't succumb to an internationalized English stripped of its whimsy and romanticism in the name of streamlining global commerce.
@andybrohard Both can be true. But also consider that when you pay someone to identify racist organizations, they find more than if you don't pay them. And that is what has been happening with SPLC. So it might be a measurement incentive issue too.
Ça fait longtemps que l’effondrement civique ne m’avait pas autant frappé qu’en voyant Tintin utiliser son journal pour ne pas salir les banquettes du train.
Home, again! Mission complete. I hope we glorified God, humanity, our families and our terrific teams a @NASA and @csa_asc. Time to share the good news!
Harvard circa 1700s:
"No student shall be admitted unless they can translate Greek and Latin authors such as Tully, Virgil, The New-Testament, & Xenophon."
Harvard circa 2026:
"We can't assign whole novels anymore."