new communication theory

separation of numbers to determine policy
and incidents that demonstrate policy loopholes

Everything’s out there, we need to decide what we care about (a guide to thought, not a prescription, and evolving with the times, a crux of democracy) ::: OR, censor. Censorship is bad.
• Once we know that everyone is imperfect, we need to worship the ideal as an abstraction, and aim for such with empathy and wisdom.

Shipping as a moderator of corporate financials?

lightning as evidence of time stretched simulation.

cupid’s arrow of god

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Happy Mrs. Simon

David was our kindergarten troublemaker, and often disrupted our nap time. Lessons about the ABCs interwove with our teacher’s, Mrs. Simon’s, admonishments of David. Inevitably, the more paste and construction paper our projects involved, the more Mrs. Simon seemed to yell at him.

A negative attitude toward David emerged among my classmates. He had apparently been following each of them into the coat closet, pulling them close, and whispering profanity in their ears. I heard various accounts of this misdeed. “David is weird and says bad words.” “David just cursed in my ear.” “Eew.”

So not only did he possess persistent mucus stalactites hanging from each nostril and talk like Elmer Fudd, but he also cast a blight upon the sanctity of the coat closet? Retrieving my personal outerwear now involved assuming the risk of boogers and verbal assault from the class monster? I resolved to avoid him.

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If You Offer Free Grilled Cheese

Perched on the uncomfortable stool at the corner pub, with several IPAs in my belly, I broke from tradition and ordered a grilled cheese. I had passed up many of their creative (and, at times, difficult to pronounce) weekly gourmet recipes. But “fresh” Vermont White Ceddar and mushroom on sour dough was irresistible to my beer-addled hypothalamus.

It was delicious; and, on an admittedly rare occasion during which I was strategizing about work (specifically, how to remind coworkers of my existence after my recent move to the isolated second floor), I ordered six more that I would share with my fellow employees the next day.

After some haggling (and mild discouragement via my wife), a logistical discussion ensued. The chef could not fathom my serving his creation after it sat in the refrigerator over night. And so, I agreed that he would partially cook the sandwiches, and I would prepare them in a toaster oven the next day (per his instructions), with a delicately generous discount.

After waking up too early, I remembered: My office has no toaster oven.

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