The band Chicago performs their hit song “26 or 6 to 4” live at Tanglewood, July 21, 1970. This is the most 70s video ever. That hair! The handlebar mustaches! That bangin guitar solo!
The neighbors have a baby living with them from time to time (I am not sure of the situation), and it’s just starting to become mobile enough that leaving it outside for more than a second is becoming unwise.
I know this, because their back door is directly next to our bedroom window and while I can’t see over the fence, I can hear a lot and I just heard the woman exclaim very loudly, “Oh, honey, no don’t–!” followed by a weary sigh and then, “Well, you’re an outside baby now. Hope you enjoyed central heating…”
The baby’s just laughing, shriekingly unrepentant at whatever just happened. Good for them.
The ribbon and button department of a Copenhagen store, ca.1904.
Fuck it, I’m going back in time. My autistic ass was designed to work in a ‘buttons and ribbons’ department. Oh, you want me to show you a dozen spools of fancy ribbons and go on at length about their qualities? You want me to sort little buttons and know far too much about button manufacture and styles and help you find the perfect buttons for the new dress you’re making custom for the summer YES I WILL HELP YOU WITH THAT.
NYC is so big that when some small disaster happens here we mostly hear about it from relatives that live out of state and see it on tv and then text us assuming we were nearby. Like no mom I didn’t get squished by the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man I was in a different borough
We live in the world of paywalled content, unilateral contract modification, micro transactions, serialised content, upsells, and the list goes on and on and on. Everyone is trying to find a way to extract money in one way or another, and that is something I find personally draining and soul-crushing.
I follow conversations among professional educators who all report the same phenomenon, which is that their students use ChatGPT for everything, and in consequence learn nothing. We may end up with at least one generation of people who are like the Eloi in H.G. Wells’s The Time Machine, in that they are mental weaklings utterly dependent on technologies that they don’t understand and that they could never rebuild from scratch were they to break down.
