whales never use generative AI, but they do make poop from a butt, which is similar except that whale poop is essential to the health of our oceans and generative AI is essential to being a fucking loser
Bought a grilled cheese sandwich on my way home to fill it with leftover salmon fillet. It seems kinda backward, but it’s terribly scrumptious; it may be my best idea of the day.
It gets lonely being the only person in the history of the universe who has never watched or had any interest in watching a Spider-Man movie, TV series—animated or otherwise—or any other Spider-Man-related media.
Early on, I learned from my mother that we don’t turn on our heater until it’s below freezing and the a/c does not go on until you’re swimming in your own sweat.
AI has decimated the newspaper vending machine industry and thus has limited my ability to acquire cheap and convenient papier-mâché supplies. When will this savagery end?
I see the humor,
the intellect,
the ethics,
the sexuality,
the vulnerability,
and the resilience in you.
None of them contradicts the others.
They are all you.
This is one of my favorite Dickens paragraphs (to read aloud):
Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards, and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little ’prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.
Bleak House (1853)