It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a blank check from the Paypal Mafia must be in want of a coterie of sycophants.
"Over Leveraged", Rusty Foster in his newsletter Today in Tabs
Saga also submitted this from the same newsletter entry:
Otherwise, they discovered nothing of value despite more than a decade of driving each other crazy with endless white papers about energy demons.
Over the years she had learned to approach and study these omens obliquely, as though looking at dim stars in peripheral view, because attempting to observe these signals directly would surely obliterate them, so faint they were as to be scarcely indistinguishable from noise.
Babylon, South Dakota, Tom Lin
Submitted by Kevin.
What I am getting at here is that maybe Mitch McConnell was always a pumpkin mounted on the end of a broomstick, being waved around by a ventriloquizing Senate page.
"Is It Mitch McConnell Or Your Own Sense Of Possibility That Has Been Dead For Weeks?", Albert Burneko for Defector
Elegance is a small price to pay for enlightenment, and I was glad to pay it.
The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. Le Guin
Submitted by George.
In my career writing code, I’ve mostly acted as a sandwich maker within the software-as-a-sandwich ecosystem.
"Who cleans up after the vibe-coding party?", Sam Learner for Financial Times
I used to be a big Twitter user, so I have a grudging respect for companies that hate their power users.
"Untruth Machines", Matt Levine for his Bloomberg newsletter Money Stuff
Submitted by Ed.
The combination of dumb and diabolical taps something real.
"Culture Has No Name for This Cursed Vibe. It's Everywhere." , Ben Davis for Artnet
The canary in the mine saves you from what killed the canary when you released it into the mine, but you also don’t get to see the inside of the mine.
This Year: 365 Songs Annotated, John Darnielle
Submitted by Ren. I fell behind on my "read an entry a day" practice with this book and missed it last week, so thanks to Ren for lifting it up.
The I-beams are bending like cigarettes in there.
Cliff Johnson commenting on the Pfizer building in Midtown
Perry Winston’s Thanksgiving dinner special was a satirical political aphorism artfully spelled out in mini marshmallows on a bed of mashed sweet potatoes.
Obituary for E. Perry Winston, Barbara Knecht for The Architect's Newspaper
Ali and I became friends roughly seven or eight months before his dad died, and about a year after my dad died. He was my first friend to have a parent die after mine, and maybe that's why I have the date Perry died (the anniversary was last week) burned in my brain despite never having met him (and despite consistently being plus or minus one day with remembering Ali's birthday, and being worse at staying in touch since he moved back to New York than when we lived on opposite sides of the country). Maybe it's also that I think our dads would have gotten along.
Like most women who love men, I grade them on a steep curve and am still routinely forced to flunk them.
"The Tragedy of Heterosexuality", Rax King for Flaming Hydra
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