You kids might laugh now, but once upon a time, this was a perfectly valid answer that typically elicited wonderment and awe. Once upon a time, the Internet was some inaccessible, mystical land that very few people had access to or even understood. Kind of like Narnia, but without the Christian overtones. A digital image that you downloaded from the Internet was like Marco Polo bringing opium back from China.
Things change, and things remain the same
I disagree. This may be one of the most quintessentially Lemmy posts that I’ve ever seen, lol
Yeah, the guy who thought a ~10 year break in genociding lgbtq people was “a bit much”.
I still don’t understand why people love K cups so much. They make the coffee taste like plastic. I can’t stand them.
Up all night, and all you got to see was a boob
Also New York. And a lot of places, actually.
I learned how to look at these things a certain way along time ago thanks to Star Trek the next generation:
Captain Picard was, perhaps, one of the most powerful men in the entire galaxy. He was short, bald, and a principaled dork. And he was one of the most respected people in the entire galaxy because of it.
I don’t give a shit about the hair that I’ve lost, and I don’t give a shit about the fact that I’m 5 foot seven. My principles are unassailable, and I will defend my friends to the death, as well, I defend what is right.
Edit: although it may take some serious effort, I am capable of admitting when I am wrong
That’s what makes me a good person. Not what other people think of my hairline.
Yes: The Onion
Is this true? I’m not sure why anyone would lie about such a thing, but, still… is it true?
I don’t know. I’ve been applying for jobs for seven years online, and I haven’t gotten a fucking thing.
I have 30, 20, 15, and 10 years of experience in the four major career fields I pursue, and I can never, not once not ever, get even a reply back, let alone an explanation as to why I wouldn’t fit the role.
That is for shaving his head. Geordi uses one in an episode of the next generation.
I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief.
“Bad news, detective. We got a situation.”
“What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?”
“Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.”
The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?”
“Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.”
“Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.” He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.”
I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside.
“Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t.
“Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up.
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?”
It didn’t seem like they did.
“Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.”
Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing.
I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it.
“Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled.
Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him.
“Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen.
I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!”
He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose.
“All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.”
“Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy.
“Because I was afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.”
I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head.
“Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.”
He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.