Yeah. I want the name of the hedge fund. It’s not like it being secret will help; they’ve already given away the strategy. No name, no game; bullshit.
Probably written by some C level extrovert whose panties are in a twist because he doesn’t see “butts in seats.” It’s so sad to not be able to roam around your office space lording your position over the peons, boo hoo.
I’ve occasionally wondered the same thing about sexy time. Like, what if they don’t both like the same kind of sex? One likes it rough, the other sweet and soft?
I suppose the answer to that is obvious, but it leads me to questions like: how are accusations of rape handled when one twin was consenting? Again, the answer seems obvious, but aside from the biological challenges, conjoining raises a whole host of other minor dilemmas.
Not at Starbucks. I mean, you can customize your order and ask them to tone it down on the additives, but if you just order off their menu, you either get a black coffee or (I like how OP said it) a milkshake.
It’s been a couple of generations since we’ve had a world war. We’re due. With any luck, the Russian nuclear arsenal will be in as good shape as the rest of their military.
I’ve heard rumors that, while we see two kinds of mango in the US, there are many more varietals in India, and they’re all better. I’d like to have access to some of those; mangoes rock.
Round, yellow, rough skin? Crisp like an apple, but sweet like a pear (less tangy than an apple)? If that’s what you mean, 100% agree. They’re fairly common, IME; we got them all the time in PA, and see them frequent-ish in the Midwest.
I think that’s a local thing. My grocer carries them, and they’re always in stock. I line in the Midwest. But I seem to remember eating them a lot in Oregon, too?
This absolutely cracked me up, and my wife didn’t understand why I found it so funny. It took a moment for me to realize it’s because it’s the same schtick as one of my favorite passages from any book.
Two stoned people are having a conversation:
VIRGINIA: Are you hungry?
ANDY: No. (Long reflective pause.) Wait a minute. Did you mean am I hungry for food, or am I hungry in the abstract, like hungry for knowledge or adventure?
VIRGINIA: What are you talking about?
ANDY: You asked if I was hungry.
VIRGINIA: Did I?
ANDY: Yes.
VIRGINIA: Well, are you?
ANDY: Am I what?
A Child’s Garden of Grass, by Jack S. Margolis. 1970
Fucker grabbed that tail, and once he had a hold, he couldn’t let go lest he be eaten.
I hate the comparison; Trump’s as much a tiger as I am a blancmange. But his base are like pirhanna, and there’s no apt metaphor involving dumb, swarming fish.
I’m only ignoring it because what you’re saying isn’t in the dictionary definition of “fascism,” and I’m not a political theorist. I’m just going by what the good book says.
belief in a natural social hierarchy, subordination of individual interests for the perceived good of the nation and/or race, and strong regimentation of society and the economy
What about Stalin makes you think he demonstrated any of this?