My non-joke answer is apprenticeship. Kids could actually learn how to do a valuable job rather than graduating from high school with almost no useful skills.

Dwarves literally only want four things and it’s f—ing disgusting.

My theory is that psychosis due to self-imposed sleep deprivation causes some of the crazier things Elon Musk does.

Not the same thing, but I still have my old Voodoo 2 3D-accelerator card (not the same thing as a video card back then).

Dibs on being the palm tree.

I spent those years in dll hell.

…and why do kids these days say ooh-wooh?

This is why my programs don’t come with documentation. If you want to use them, the best I can do is a messy script that “works for me”.

Sometimes when I open my mouth really wide, I somehow spray a little stream of saliva, like from a squirt gun. It makes me feel like the dilophosaurus in Jurassic Park, but so far I haven’t been able to do it on purpose.

When I was in California, I saw perfectly peeled lemons lying under a friend’s lemon tree. He told me the rats did it - they ate the peel but were very careful not to bite into the sour inside.

buying bottled water

perfectly good pond in background

calls himself a predator

van isn’t windowless

I can’t even.

If Tourette’s involves a compulsion to say socially inappropriate things, what happens if those things don’t turn out to be socially inappropriate? Does the compulsion switch to something else? Does it fade?

Eh, it wasn’t bad as a revenge fantasy. You might like it if you enjoy thinking about how all the people who don’t appreciate you would be screwed if you just left. The political philosophy being proposed won’t be too offensive if you already lean libertarian.

My main objection to the book (other than the infamous speech, which I admit I couldn’t read all the way through) is that it’s a sort of morality play with with exaggerated good and bad and no shades of gray, but it keeps denying this and insisting that the real world really is that black and white. The reader ought to take it with more than a little pinch of salt.

Oh, and that Ayn Rand’s self-insert has a BDSM fetish I really would have preferred not to know about. (Why do authors keep inserting their kinks into books? I’m looking at you, Robert Jordan. And especially at you, Piers Anthony.)