It appears that in toilet paper, just as in life and role-playing games, I am chaotic good.
Found via Dungeons and Dragons memes.
In honor of Juneteenth — the holiday that celebrates the liberation of people who’d been slaves in the U.S. — a Trump joke. Because we need one.
Found via Ian Bremmer.
The “Dad sweatshirt”, taken earlier today.
My move from Toronto to Florida a couple of years back forced me to really apply a rule I try to follow: if you’ve been hanging onto something and never use it, sell it or give it to someone who really needs it. I’ve had to use this rule more since moving from Toronto to Tampa, as the move required me to take only what I could fit in my old car, and because I didn’t want to treat my mother’s basement in Toronto like a free storage place forever.
In spite of this rule, I’ve hung on to one piece of clothing that I’ve had since 1999 and that I almost never wear. It’s the zippered sweatshirt pictured above. There’s nothing terribly bad about it; I like the color, but the cut’s all wrong, it’s a little too big, it has ridiculous snap-straps all over (in the photo, you can see one of them around the neck), and while it’s perfectly serviceable, I don’t like it enough to keep it and should’ve given it to Goodwill or some other charity ages ago. But I won’t because it’s a special gift from my dad.
In 1999, my former high school classmate André Fenton was doing neuroscience research at the Czech Academy of Sciences and decided that he wanted to ring in the year 2000 by throwing a big New Year’s Eve party in the nicest place that he could rent somewhere near Prague.
He found a great place — Zamek Roztěž (although these days, it’s marketed as Casa Serena Chateau and Gold Resort). It’s a “hunting castle” originally built in the late 1600s in the village of Roztěž, located in the Kutna Hora district, about 80 kilometers (50 miles) east of Prague. I was invited to the party, and while there, had a grand old time:
Upon hearing that I would be staying at a castle somewhere in the central European woods in the dead of winter, Dad decided that he’d surprise me by buying me something to keep me warm. That thing was the zippered sweatshirt, and he gave it to me just as he dropped me off at the airport to catch my flight to Amsterdam, and then Prague.
“I got this for you. I don’t want you to be cold when you’re in that castle.”
I thanked him for the sweatshirt, gave him a big hug, wished him a happy new year in advance, and told him that I’d send photos that I’d take with my still-newish digital camera (1024 by 768 pixels in super-fine mode!) to mom via email (he never had an email address).
It’s not really what I would’ve bought, but it’s big and warm, I thought, and it served me well on the flight, in the castle (which wasn’t all that cold — they’d been doing a fair bit of renovating), and especially well on a hike around the castle grounds with some lovely company on the night of January 1st, 2000:
Because I am a big ol’ sentimental softie, not only have I kept this sweatshirt that I don’t really like all these years, but I take it with me whenever I travel far to someplace cold, as a sort of comforting tradition. I wore it walking through the streets of Prague, while shivering on the slopes at Whistler while trying to figure out how snowboarding worked, when I was conducting mobile technology assessments in the bitter cold of Athabasca’s oil sands, and as I drove through the snow-covered hills of West Virginia on those chilly days of March 2014 as I moved to Tampa to be with Anitra. It keeps me warm, not only in the physical sense, but also in the way that it reminds me of his kindness and generosity.
Dad died eleven years ago, but thanks to this sweatshirt that I’m not all that crazy about, I have a little bit of him that I can take with me when I’m cold and far from home. That’s why I’ll never part with it.
Seriously — thanks to the movies’ insistence on showing their own take on Batman’s origin, we all know what happened to his parents:
In fact, the only way it could be worse would be if it was a Mother’s Day card:
Here are three recent videos that will help you on your own path to ruin. Enjoy!
7 ways to maximize misery
Those of you who know me well know how bad I am at being miserable. Thankfully, I can learn, thanks to this video:
At an average rate of about one tip a minute, the entertaining CGP Grey provides these useful ways to bring about the misery you’ve been seeking:
- Stay still.
- Screw with your sleep.
- Maximize your screentime.
- Use your screen to stoke your negative emotions.
- Set vapid goals.
- Pursue happiness directly.
- Follow your instincts.
If these aren’t enough, you’ll want to check out the book on which Grey’s video is based: How to Be Miserable: 40 Strategies You Already Use.
9 ways to kill your charisma
Charlie Houpert, the “Charisma on Command” coach, will show you how to render yourself devoid of charm and social aplomb:
Charlie’s useful tips:
- Don’t proactively introducing yourself.
- Don’t introduce your friends when you’re in a new group.
- Don’t talk about things that no one cares about.
- Don’t solicit feedback that will help you improve yourself.
- When speaking, trail off or mumble.
- Answer questions with single words.
- Whine.
- Don’t put in any effort into remembering people’s names.
- Don’t have principles.
How to ruin your life with comfort
You’ve probably seen some variation of the illustration shown in the notebook pictured below:
Discomfort often leads to action and change, and you probably don’t want that. That’s why you should seek out comfort at all costs! Leadership coach Bill Eckstrom comes oh-so-close to explaining how to do it, but ultimately fails:
I assume this is from an old Star Trek coloring book. As for what’s wrong with this picture:
- Captain Kirk is having a bad hair day (or maybe a bad toupée day), and his cape seems overly starched.
- Not enough George Takei!