I have to be juvenile.
Electric cars are like those rubber boots made by Hunter; they're not doing anything special compared to all the other options, they're just what everyone is buying right now.
You want to hug some timber? You want to "make a difference," but you'd prefer to do so without involving the bus? You want to look at hydrogen. That's where the actual car-oil-jihad-can't we all get along solution lies.
"Melt your Ducky Boots. We've decided that rain gear is fashionable now."
Overnight, the women of an entire municipality are a bunch of Christopher Robins.
Sad.
What if The Internet (capital 't', capital 'i') crapped out tomorrow? What if we all had to fall back on our merits?
It was originally designed to direct missiles, y'know. The military developed a global communications system so they could e-mail missiles right at Khrushchev.
However, the fellas figured out that if they were willing to wait seven hours for the loading time, they could send nude pictures of Bo Derek to one another.
It all kinda snowballed from there.
I won't name names or tombstones, but Andie told me about how her friend's next door neighbor kept banging on their wall while her friend had sex (with someone else; not with her). So, he's trying to set the mood, and this faceless cat next door is banging on the wall, yelling, "Stop having sex!" Two days later, the faceless neighbor hanged themselves.
Now, the question is, why did I find that hilarious? Oh, I laughed when she told me about it. I laughed and laughed.
What are we going to do with me?
