Me, trying to get rid of anything that doesn’t spark joy: Ugh I’m such a dumbass I should throw myself away.
Marie materialising in my room: Yes, this negative attitude doesn’t bring you joy. You should thank it for getting you through your past traumas but you no longer need it or want it so it should go.
And this is why we used to make cars out of STEEL instead of FIBERGLASS! Sure, fiberglass is a lot lighter in weight and hence a hell of a lot better for gas mileage. But you hit anything at more than 20 mph and the entire body explodes off the fucking thing, and now you’re spending more to repair the car than it’s worth because you need a entire front end, read end, or side panel. They can’t just take the damaged section off, beat it out with a hammer, sand it, and repaint it.
Everything is made with the idea of it being easier to replace than to maintain, aka planned obsolescence. Thanks, capitalism
You guys are obscenely, dangerously wrong.
It’s not planned obsolescence, it’s physics.
Modern cars crumple to absorb and distribute the forces of impact in an accident in an effort to protect the occupants. When cars didn’t have those crumple zones, the occupants, being the soft, squishy things they were, took those forces and were mangled or killed in horrible ways. Also, those older cars took hidden damage that often went unnoticed and made them very dangerous to drive. IT’s really easy to hide a twisted frame when all you need to do to make the car look okay is a bit of sanding and paint.
I recently watched a TV show where a small sedan was run over by the trailer of an eighteen-wheeler. Run. Over. They had to unwrap the crumpled ball of a car from the undercarriage of that trailer. Guess what? The driver suffered only minor injuries because the car collapsed in exactly the way it was designed to so that she, in the very strong frame surrounding the passenger compartment, was protected.
And no, don’t thank capitalism for these modern cars. Thank Ralph Nader and countless other safety activists who worked tirelessly to make car manufacturers accountable for the safety of the people who drove their cars.
I’m an estimator for a major insurance company which means I spend all day, every day, around wrecked cars. I’ve been to the NHTSA, I’ve attended a crash test. I have actually seen and put hands on both the vehicles in the .gif above. The idea that old cars are somehow built better or are “tanks” or whatever is not only wrong, it’s dangerous. New cars are built to “crunch” so you don’t have to.
This is the 59 Bel Aire post crash – notice that the area where the driver sits is significantly compromised. The person driving this car would have died in this 35mph crash.
This is the Malibu – crunched? Yes! But the area where the driver sits is not crushed.
I have seen modern cars keep people alive in horrifying accidents. Cars are objectively better and safer in every single way than they were 10, 20, 30 years ago. Anyone who tells you otherwise is wrong. Period.
Also modern passenger cars are definitely not made of fiberglass. What even?
Dude! This is timely! An old friend of mine just got in a high-speed crash (t-boned at 45mph) the other day. Her car was totaled. All airbags deployed.
Her ONLY injury was a bruised tailbone.
Fuck yeah, crumple zones! 😀
Tl;dr version: When the car doesn’t absorb the impact of the crash, your body does instead.
Anyone else wanna make a conlang with as little standardized spelling as medieval English. Like you just spell things however feels right
People keep adding “lol that’s how french is” to this when France has one of the most rigorously controlled language standardization systems around. They’ve got the Académie française over there frantically trying to make up new French words for stuff like walkman and email to prevent English loanwords from entering common parlance.
I’m not just talking about spelling being disconnected from pronunciation, English is already knee deep in that. I’m tualkng abaut efferee worde beying spelt diferent eich tyme. Absoulut wyrd anarchie. Daythe to perskriptivizm, aul puhwer too thee piepull
Spelle itt howe yoo lyke, but god it shoor isse a fite agnst the autocorrekt
Me, looking over the architecture plans for my evil organization’s base: “Hmm. Looks good, but there’s just one one problem. The vents need to be bigger. Make those air ducts easily accessible and large and strong enough for a well-muscled adult man to crawl through them.”
Henchman: “Isn’t that a security risk?”
Me: “What? No. Also, make sure they form an unbroken connection between all the most important rooms in my lair.”
Me: “Actually, now that I think about it, why not add plush carpeting to the floor of the air ducts? Something soft and cushioning beneath knees. Can you place drinking fountains throughout? Maybe scatter some protein bars.”
Henchman: “Um… boss?
Me: “And one of those motivational posters! Is the ‘hang in there’ kitten too cheesy? Maybe… maybe I should leave handwritten notes taped to the walls. Flowers? Is flowers too much? What about tic-tacs?”
Henchman: “Jesus, boss! Do you want me to go ahead and hang up an artistic nude oil painting of you in the air ducts?”
Me: “Ooh. Do you paint?!”
Excuse me…?! Why, I never! Who do you think you are? Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you think such a thing? Disgusting. You have such a filthy, depraved mind. Gross! Ew! Ew ew ew! I built this death trap to KILL my nemesis. That’s why I included a deactivation switch in easy reach. And sexy, sexy straps… so that I can see that they’re not hiding any secret weapons, of course! I’m all business. I’m all about business. Now, get out of my sight. I need to take a bath with my nicest bath bomb and scented oils.
Henchman: “Are you alright, boss?”
Me: “Hm? Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
Henchman: “Well. I mean. You’ve been listening to ‘Genghis Khan’ by Miike Snow on repeat for sixteen loops while watching yourself sexy-cry in front of a mirror.”
Me: “And?”
Henchman: “Sir, have you… considered making an online dating profile?”
Me: “Uh, no. What for?”
Henchman: “I just thought it might make it easier to, you know… meet cute guys.”
Me: “Don’t patronize me, you useless fool. I know how to meet cute guys. That’s easy! You just take the mayor hostage or build a bomb that looks like your face and they come running.”
Henchman: “Okay, okay, fair enough, you know how to meet cute guys. But what about getting them to stay? I really think an online dating profile could help with that.”
Me: “It’s not MY fault they’re always carrying lockpicks!”
Me: “Well. It’s happened again. He left me… he shot me in the leg… I just don’t know what he wants anymore!”
Henchman: “Perhaps you should learn to take a hint, sir.”
Me: “What do you mean?”
Henchman: “Well, I think ‘a bullet’ is a pretty strong hint that he’s just not into you.”
Me: “How can you be sure of that?! He’s so wily and complicated. He uses bullets all the time – it could mean anything!”
Henchman: “Sir, do you know why I continue working for you after all these years?”
Me: “….job security?”
Henchman: “No.”
Me: “The atmosphere?”
Henchman: “God, no.”
Me: “The… uh. Retirement benefits…?”
Henchman: “You’ve got to be kidding me…. ugh! Just shut up and remove your pants so I can dig that bullet out.”
Me: “I can’t believe this! My own right-hand man, betraying me in my hour of triumph! After all this time—why, you back-stabbing snake?! I made you! I brought you to glory! You could have had everything you dreamed of and more… why turn on me now?! You viper! You scorpion!”
Henchman: “‘Why’? Well, my lord, because there’s only one ‘love language’ you seem to understand.”
Me: “Ha! I speak all the Romance languages fluently, snake. I am exceptionally well-educated.”
Henchman: “And yet you are a miserable fool. I am tired of this charade. Step away from the doomsday machine and fight me.”
Me: “But it’s… we made this together… it was important to us…”
Henchman: “I can’t let you activate it, sir. I have a world to save.”
Me: “That’s not your job! That’s his job!”
Henchman: “He isn’t here right now. I am. You may be oblivious, but surely you’ve noticed that.”
Me: “Are you… are you suggesting…”
Henchman: “Coffee? No. That’s not your style. There’s a laser tag arena down the street, I could sneak in some adult beverages, we could see where a little competition take us, and… well…”
Me: “This is so fast, I… I don’t know what to think…”
Henchman: “Give yourself time. Sure, you could destroy the world, but if you do that, if you press that button, there won’t be any more laser tag. No more retro discotheques, either. In the immortal words of ABBA, take a chance on me…”
Man though you know what makes me sorta sad is when nerdy, “quiet” kids latch on to me during camp and they just talk and talk and talk about a thing they’re into (Skyrim, Pokemon, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, dinosaurs, whatever). And I see the kids just light up when they say something and I can chime in with an ‘oh hey, are you talking about [x]? I love that thing! Tell me more about it.’
Like, their parents will warn me ‘so-and-so is pretty quiet and hard to engage’ but no, man, just listen, your kid is so smart and so into This Thing, they’ll engage like fuck and talk your damn ear off it you let them. Frame it in their damn terms. Or! Just! Listen to them about their Thing! And they will engage with the rest of the material! Because they know you care about them! Amazing!!!
Quiet kids are usually that way because either no one listens, or there is always someone more dominant speaking wise in their group that always talks over them and then they give up. Some quiet kids are starved for attention and really really want to talk, but don’t always get the chance to
Everyone who reblogged this are good people. Bless you, this made me happy to read
does anyone ever do the opposite of dissociate?? where youre just suddenly and uncomfortably aware of your situation and reality
more to the point why do i get that feeling when im sitting on top of my kitchen table watching a velveeta mac and cheese pack spin in the microwave for three and a half minutes and im just like I Exist I Am Here And Theres Nothing I Can Do About It
okay this one wins, everyone can stop reblogging this now
