I honestly think he did this because he knew it’d be awesome publicity for Mar-A-Lago. They recently doubled the membership fees to $200k; this was Trump showing what you get for your investment – a front-row seat as Shit Goes Down and dinner with the Prime Minister of Japan! Who knows what might happen next time Trump shows up for dinner?
When it comes to promoting his own investments and properties, Trump is anything but incompetent. He’s PT Barnum.
Ah yeah, the ‘some asshole’ effect, as described by long-forgotten scholars from the Internet’s ancient history.
'Some asshole’s are everywhere. They’re the people they force us to make regulations and put magnetic devices on everything in our stores. They’re the reason your trip to the salad bar costs 12 dollars – because some asshole balanced a 15 pound tower of bacon bits on his plate. It’s why the bouncer sticks his hand in the front of your pants at the bar – because some asshole keeps a handgun in his. It’s why you have spend $2000 on a car security system or why you’re not allowed to touch strippers. It’s why you can’t buy firecrackers, see tits on TV, drive fast, play cops and robbers in school, or tell a girl she’s sexy. All because of some asshole.
Don’t you worry. First, its not an S7, so no imminent danger anybody would be hurt. Second, Samsung is a South Korean company. They wouldn’t leak confidential information across the wall…
#NotAllArchons
Agreed, If you are gonna run the place you should at least be able to do that.
Perhaps, but 45 doesn’t seem to understand the basic concept of Risk vs Return; the risk he just took could (and should) have a massive detrimental impact on his administration.
I worked in this place that had a metal overhead door that weighed about 3000 pounds (about the same as a midsize sedan). Sometime before I got there, Some Asshole ™ had crushed himself* to death playing chicken with the door, so we had to do Door Training every year. The training went something like this:
“See that door?”
[Lever is pulled and this gigantic metal door judders upward, slowly and with great effort.]
“Don’t fuck with the door.”
[Door is released, and comes crashing down far quicker than it rose.]
“Any questions?”
*you know it was a himself and not a herself.
Consider yourself lucky. Not many years later we didn’t even have the false comfort of “duck & cover” or anti-aircraft installations. We knew full well that when it came it would be without warning and without recourse and without epitaphs.
I thought I was done with that too.
Was his last name Solo?
I shouldn’t give a like to this for the constant knot of tension i feel in my stomach but…
And they say the previous generation doesn’t give us anything.
Charles stross’ laundry series (coldwar paranoia mixed with horror from beyond spacetime) doesn’t seem nearly so entertaining now.
I have this weird obsession with facing death that I picked up from growing up the same era you describe. It’s not exactly that I wander around worrying I’ll die all the time, it’s specifically that I worry I’ll die suddenly and with no warning. It’s fucking theory of relativity meets murder. The radiation that will incinerate you travels at the speed of light - you will never even receive any information, you simply won’t be anymore.
Oh, hello insomnia.
I had dreams of nuclear holocaust well into early adulthood. Hope like hell they don’t come back.
I used to wake up in the middle of the night and turn on the radio just to see if the missiles were in the air.
As a not-teen at the time the Falklands war started, I was absolutely 100% certain and terrified to the point of tears that this was going to end in a nuclear exchange - and I already knew that being close to both a nuclear power station and (then) lots of NE heavy industry and manufacturing, that we’d be within any likely blast radius.
I recall when the building with the regional civil defence command bunker for the area beneath was finally demolished to build a car park - they had a hell of a time with the ‘basement’. I believe they eventually just flooded the entrance points with concrete, and that most of it’s still there.
We did duck-and-cover exercises weekly in elementary school, readying for war. I vividly remember my 5th grade teacher – this was 1984 – explaining to us what would happen in the event of a nuclear war. “All of your duck and cover things won’t do anything, because the missiles will hit very nearby. A few miles down the road to the west is DCSC, the Defense Construction Corps; next to it is the Air Force base. And a few miles in that direction is CompuServe. So we’ll be one of the ground zero sites. You’ll all be vaporized pretty much instantly and won’t feel a thing. So will your families. No need to run if it happens, you won’t be able to escape.”
Yeah, he’s getting increasingly pissed off with the world because it keeps being weirder than/pre-empting his storylines.
Here’s a handy tool for visualizing the impossible (?)
And now back to how candy hearts are made and where Bigfoot is hiding… Happy Valentines Day everyone! (Seriously, sign off and go enjoy your significant other (s)… Peace and love.)
Yes, we do. I received similar notices when I held a TS-SCI a long time ago when I was in the USAF.
