Grass-eaters at the coffee shop

So the lab’s coffee machine is out of beans, which means I get to trundle on up to the coffee shop by the bus loop for my latest infusion of Smart Juice.  There, I discover that the Precious Snowflake in line in front of me has become so disoriented by the plethora of choices available to her that she has to pull out her cellphone and call a friend to figure out what to order.  No lie.  “Like omigod what should I get to drink?


(After a couple of minutes of debate she settled on a chai latte.)


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anarchocapitalist agitprop

Be advised

I say fuck a lot



Statistics FTW


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