@Steve_Sailer Would just have to look at strokes gained also - .3-.6 per 100 yds so I think you’re right - somewhere around 1200 yds shorter than the setup of this week - so around 1800 shorter than the men
@Steve_Sailer She would have had to shoot -18 to tie the men’s winner in feb - I’m guessing quite a bit. It was wet and soft for men which is why they did so well so hard to tell because conditions weren’t the same
A new study of more than 111,000 women ages 45 to 80 found those on GLP-1 medications had a reduced risk of developing breast cancer by about 30%. https://t.co/d88z6D6YBQ
Wildest takeaways from my time at the Ballot Processing Center today.
✍🏻 Signatures only need to be 40% accurate (!) this is the setting the machines are set at for LA County (called the ASV)
����️ The last two drops disproportionately supported Raman. Are those coming from specific neighborhoods since they’re such an anomaly? Or are the neighborhoods pretty spread out that you count from on a given day? “We’re not sure.”
💌 If you’re unable to sign, you can make a “mark” like a dot or slash instead of signing. A witness then signs below.
I asked them how they verify these signatures. Turns out, they simply don’t.
Well, you must check the witness signatures, right? “No, we don’t.”
So what if I stole a ballot, made a dash by the person’s name, and signed my name? “You shouldn’t do that, but in theory it would be counted,” they said.
How many of these “marked” ballots get in per election? “We don’t know,” they said.
Ripe for fraud, no?
@notgaetti The truth is, gaetti, you’re a bigot towards Christians. I myself am not religious but I can recognize your inability to be thoughtful and measured. Just comment on what you normally do because this discourse is beyond your depth
Whatever your beliefs, it should horrify you that a guy who gets paid $11,000,000 per year can’t be bothered to wear his employer-assigned uniform for the 5 minutes he spends in the ballgame.
Blake Treinen is not a team player.
@TheeRayRivera32 you ever have an umpire call and infield fly and then after the play overturn it because it wasn’t caught and the reasoning was because it landed in the grass of the outfield?
In America, a stranger will rename you in a single breath, and you are simply expected to come when called.
I went to eat at a busy restaurant. A young man at the front asked for my name, to mark my place in line. I gave it the weight it has carried for eight hundred years.
"Nobunaga."
He smiled, nodded, and wrote it down with great confidence. Then he read it back to me, to be sure he had honored it correctly.
"Perfect. Banana, party of one."
Banana. He had heard my name, held it a moment, and returned to me something rounder and more cheerful. To refuse the name a host gives is to refuse his welcome. I bowed. I was Banana now.
Then he handed me a small black disc, said it would "light up and buzz" when my table was ready, and turned to the next guest as though he had not just placed a living thing in my hands.
I held it in both palms, the way one holds a small sleeping beast that may wake. I found a place to stand. I waited, ready.
It woke.
It screamed. It flashed red. It leapt and shook in my hands like a captured spirit demanding release. A lesser man would have dropped it. I did not. I gripped it, steady, looked into its blinking lights, and told it, in a low voice, that its time had come. Then I carried it back to the host with both hands, the way one returns a hawk to its master.
He took it without looking and shouted across the entire room.
"BANANA! Party of one, your table's ready!"
A hundred strangers turned. I rose. I crossed that floor as Banana, spine straight, chin level, a man answering to his name. A child pointed at me. I gave the child a small bow. He had recognized me.
All through the meal they kept me. "How's it tasting, Banana?" "More water, Banana?" The check, when it came, said Banana, and thanked me for visiting. By the end the whole staff knew me. They waved as I left. "Night, Banana!"
So tell me honestly.
For eight hundred years my clan answered to one name. Tonight I answered to a fruit, calmed a screaming relic in my bare hands, and ate among people who were glad I came.
When the little disc lights up, is the table truly mine, or am I only keeping it warm for the next Banana?
Because I have already decided to return on Friday, and to ask, very humbly, for the same disc.