COF 211 - dfs-archiver/dfs-archive GitHub Wiki
When I came home, the water was running in the kitchen sink, full blast, but the kitchen was empty. The sink was empty, too, except for a single plate and fork.
My baseline assumption is that my flatmates are grownups, so I ignored it. There are plausible reasons a person might turn the faucet on and leave the kitchen, so I walked past the sink and into my bedroom, and closed the door.
When I came out of my room an hour later, the faucet was still going, full blast. Still nobody around, and it was hot water running. I was surprised that the hot water could run for an hour without running out of hot water, but since I was about to take a shower and wanted some hot water myself, I turned the faucet off.
Undoubtedly it was Dean who'd left the sink running. A pound of raw hamburger was on the counter, forgotten, and that's the proof. Robert never cooks anything but potatoes, and L never cooks at all. It had to be Dean.
If I was a nice guy, a caring neighbor, maybe I'd mention it to him next time I see him. Next time I see him, though, like every time I see him, he's going to want to talk to me for longer than I want to be talked at. Anything I say would be an encouragement for longer talk-time from Dean, so I'm not saying anything to him about it.
Ranting madman at the transit center: "It's a butcher, man. A butcher! Do you know what a butcher does to you? It haunts me. It scares me. It ought to scare you too, man."
He'd been quiet before he started to rant. After he'd said what he said, he repeated the above several times, loudly, with only slight variations. The way he spoke, it sounded like he was talking to someone, but there was no-one nearby. And then he was quiet again, and finally he walked away.
Ranting madmen are why so many people are afraid to ride public transit. It's understandably scary. I know what the solution is, but I've said it before and won't bore you with it today.
Most people just want to have such ranting madmen arrested, as if that solves the problem, but it only solves the symptom. There'll be a different ranting madman in an hour.
Arrest him too, and there'll be another. The American way — bootstrap yourself, constantly cut aid programs and make sure they're difficult to access — manufactures ranting madmen.
This must be said, though: My whole long life, I've frequently gone where I'm going on public transit. For many years, I didn't even have a car. In thousands of bus, train, streetcar, trolley, subway, and cable car rides, only twice has any ranting madman physically assaulted me.
Once it was while we were riding a bus, and once while I was waiting at a bus stop. Both times I fought back, of course, with nothing but fists, and I'm a complete weakling. Me throwing a punch is a joke, not a fight, but both times I held my own and wasn't injured.
From this I conclude, scientifically, that most ranting madmen, and most homeless people, are wimps, and nothing to be afraid of.
I was going to San Francisco's famous cleaners at the top of the hill, and as everyone knows, the hill is steep, so they've installed moving stairs for the foot traffic. It's not an escalator, but stairs that you stand on, push a button with your foot, the step rises a yard or so, and then you step onto the next step, push that step's button with your toe, and that step rises by a yard or so. With a few hundred rising steps, eventually you get to the top of the hill.
There was a long line of people carrying their laundry to the cleaner, so we were all going up by just one step at a time. I'd been in line for ten minutes, riding up one step at a time, and then finally when I'd reached the top of the hill and the door to the cleaners, some guy inside hung a 'closed' sign on the door.
That wasn't even frustrating, though. I was the only person on all the stairs who didn't have a sack of laundry with me, because I've never gone to a cleaner in my life. I'm a coin-op laundromat guy.
I was only on the hill to ride the cool moving stairs, and then cross the street to ride down the hill on the six block-long slides going down. You slide down one block at a time, then cross the street and slide down the next slide. It's not quite as cool as the moving steps going up, but still pretty cool.
Oh man, sometimes I miss San Francisco. It's a city of hills, but none are as steep as the hill in my dream, and none of them have moving stairs going up or a slide going down.
Cool dream, though. Thanks, mugwort pillow.
Another dream from last night: At work, we'd completed some long-term project, so the company bought a case of champagne and bubbly was flowing in the office, like in the locker room when a ball club wins the pennant.
I was in my normal cubicle, the seat I always try for in any office, way at the back of the room. I prefer the distance, but this time it was working against me — everyone was pouring themselves champagne, and by the time a bottle was passed all the way to me in the back, it was empty. Next bottle, too. Every bottle worked its way through the office toward me, but every bottle was empty when it reached me.
The idea of getting up and getting myself a plastic glass of champagne never occurred to me in the dream, and I woke up thirsty. Thanks again, mugwort pillow.
If you click just one link on this page, this is the link to click.
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Rent too damn high? Blame YieldStar, a secret algorithm from housing hell
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Café in England charges different prices, depending on how rude or polite a customer is
One-word newscast, because it's the same news every time...
Climate change isn't 'coming', it's underway. It'll kill billions, and we're not doing squat about it.
• climate • climate • climate • climate
All cops are bastards, or they know who the bastard cops are and do nothing about it, which is the same thing.
• cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops • cops
Republicans are the enemy of common sense, common decency, simple truth, and democracy.
• Republicans • Republicans • Republicans • Republicans • Republicans • Republicans • Republicans • Republicans
Where in the world was Anthony Bourdain?
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Mystery links
"Like life itself, there's no knowing where you're going"
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The End
10/18/2022
Tip 'o the hat to Linden Arden, ye olde AVA, BoingBoing, Breakfast at Ralf's, Captain Hampockets, CaptCreate's Log, John the Basket, LiarTownUSA, Meme City, National Zero, Ran Prieur, Voenix Rising, and anyone else whose work I've stolen without saying thanks.
Extra special thanks to Becky Jo, Name Withheld, Dave S, Wynn Bruce, and always Stephanie...