That article reads like a list of negative points from The Good Place - it’s impossible to do the right thing.

Make and model aside, what I want to know is when the bars close at two and I see numerous clearly drunk drivers on my way to work at five, what have they been doing for the past three hours?

Tenant: Can you fix my garbage disposal?

AI landlord: I’m sorry Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.

I’m waiting for a tip prompt from the forced self checkout kiosk at the supermarket.

I almost feel like I’ve read somewhere that it has already happened.

On the one hand - big boobs, small boobs, big dick, small dick, short, tall, fat, thin, young, old, whatever quality, people have been happily fucking for the entire history of the species. Internet outrage at any given body type as being unacceptable is akin to virtual media eugenics and is stupid.

On the other hand - big boobs, small boobs, big dick, small dick, short, fat, tall, thin, young, old, what quality, I tire of both the media and its detractors telling me that I MUST be arbitrarily aroused by any given person because it satisfies a given narrative. This particular person is not sexually attractive to me not because of body size but because I’m old and she looks like a child to me.

Love who you want to love, fornicate with whichever consenting partner you wish. Take love where you can find it, and be happy when you can attain it.

On an unrelated note, one of my favorite lines came from Barbara Ehreinreich, though I can’t recall which book, and I’m going to heavily paraphrase as I don’t recall the exact quote: “The media was horrified to learn that elderly, wrinkled, fat couples were rolling around in bed together and enjoying it.”

My parents have long since passed on, so it’s not even possible. I may end up living with my daughter later down the line. I’m SO single and solitary (by choice) that I’m concerned about going all dementia/stroke/heart attack later on with nobody to tend to me, so I’ll likely lean on her when I’m in my mid to late sixties or so.

She’s getting everything I own, and I should have reasonable retirement funds, so it’s not like I’m going to rely on her financially.

My big mistake was fucking up on getting myself long term care, which I no longer can do unless I get a new job. My employer and I mutually fucked that up when I started at my current job.

Fun quotes from my daughter, around age ten or eleven: “You’re going to be the cranky old man that we grudgingly take on vacation with us.” and “You can always live in my basement.”

And yes, we have discussed this topic. I’m not unilaterally just saying this on the Internet.

Closest thing I’ve got to a clover here is literally called the mixmaster. It’s more akin to taking a head first dive into a blender.

If I had fewer scruples, I’d find out who the construction contracts for new prisons go to and invest all in. This guy is gonna get in and imprison a whole lot of people. Like a lot a lot.

This was my introduction to Bill Gates in 1992

The comments are pretty much all with you save one person. If I were you, I’d calmly walk away with that satisfaction before you get baited into a comment that “proves” you are what has been said of you.

(Note that “proves” is in quotation marks there.)

Are you asserting that nobody should ever have any preferences? Do you meet your own standard?

OP didn’t say he’s throwing women out of bed for having piercings. He expressed a preference for them not to.

I prefer dark hair. Sometimes it’s red or blonde or blue.

I prefer pubic hair. Sometimes it’s there, sometimes it’s not.

I prefer a few extra pounds. Sometimes those pounds aren’t there. Sometimes a few extra is more like a lot extra.

In no example above did I shut down the interaction, nor did I experience any less pleasure.

But I still have preferences. That’s all they are though.

You joke but…

I was in a benefits meeting a few years ago led by the insurance rep for our employee health coverage.

Deductibles came up.

I raised my hand and asked, “So if I go skiing for Christmas and snap my femur on December 26, it behooves me to delay any treatment until January 1, right?”

She didn’t miss a beat and said, “Yes, that’s correct.”

There was a stunned silence in the room from that one.

To the immigrant thing - I was on vacation a few weeks ago and took five Uber rides. None of the drivers spoke English. I wonder if ride sharing is going the immigrant predator route these days.

For clarification, it didn’t bother me to have non-English speaking drivers. They were all great.

Until I saw the picture, I had so thoroughly forgotten about these that your title conjured no mental image.

I remember these mostly as soft drinks served at expensive restaurants as a way to keep the refill inclined riffraff out.

I think I also remember seeing them as mixers for bartenders at catered events, but I’m not a hundred percent sure on that one.

My experience in Iowa is limited to seeing Cage the Elephant at a casino in Council Bluffs.

Saw music

Got laid

Gambled

Drank

It was alright

What in Sam hell is that even supposed to be? Like what did it say on the menu?

Product - use daily

Language - speak English, Spanish, and Korean, though the latter two are admittedly falling off from lack of use. Lived overseas for four years in my twenties

Collared shirts - wear daily, but I’d guess that’s not goth chick bait

Dancing - was religiously prohibited from such growing up and never took an interest in it

Personal skill - I can cook like a motherfucker. Like really good stuff. If I believed in love languages, mine would be feeding others. The women in my office make weekly requests for me to cook whatever they’re craving over the weekend and bring it in on Monday.

But I’m talking about energy. Gomez spends his entire existence striving toward being Morticia’s everything. I don’t have enough gas in the tank after seventy or eighty hours of getting yelled at for my income.

Next up, since everything is so easy, I guess I just simply waltz into another job, right?

Gomez lives off generational wealth and thus spends his time culturing himself with dance, art, and seductive languages.

I work until it’s not safe to drive home because I’m so tired and my eyes don’t work. I crawl home on surface streets, collapse into bed for a brief nap, and get up to go do it again because the man needs his dollar.

My spirit may be willing, but my flesh is spongy and bruised.

Yes homestead. I’m not sure how other states do it.

Texas increased from ten thousand to twenty five thousand to forty thousand to a hundred thousand in a short period.

So semantics. I say increase for other houses, you say discount for primary house. Either way you choose to phrase it, you pay less for your primary residence and more for other properties.

I’m a tax accountant.

You’ll never make less due to income tax for making more money.

You can start to get certain credits phased out and can become subject to things like the Medicare surcharge.

But it’s still unlikely that making more will ever get you less.

In a similar track though, I refused raises for a couple years because my kid was in college. If I got a raise, I would be kicked into the next income tier of financial aid eligibility, and that could’ve been catastrophic. Those lines don’t seem to phase as much as they seem to be hard cutoffs - at least as far as my kid’s specific school was concerned. All of her financial aid (grants, not loans) came directly from the school, not the government.

I also was able to enjoy a little bit of education expense credit on my tax return because if it, but that part was nominal.

The biggest hit has been going from head of household with a dependent tax credit to single with fuck all credits. Fortunately, I can itemize my way into a deduction midway between single and head of household, so I got that going for me, which is nice.

Edit: Wow, that was a gibberish filled gummy induced wall of text. Nothing particularly factually incorrect, but man what a slew of non sequitur.