The monkey-to-deer solicitations that we recorded during the course of heterospecific consortships were persistent and conspicuous. They were diverse in their form and directed toward a particular target. Inter-mount behaviors exhibited by female monkeys included intense behavioral patterns (e.g., biting, bouncing, and pulling) focused toward a particular deer target. While gazing at their deer partners, they emitted high-pitched vocalizations that are indistinguishable from the typical estrus calls performed by females in this primate species during homospecific consortships. Finally, when their deer partners walked away from the heterospecific consortships, the female monkeys often displayed sexually motivated tantrums which consisted of crouching on the ground, body spasms and screaming, while gazing at the deer.
"It's a pain in the ass. That's why everyone doesn't like it. And there's like a bunch of random strangers, one of who might be a serial killer, OK, great."
""The man trying to build tunnels around the country is awfully unimpressed by the basic concept of shared, mass transportation."
@mattdpearce: first thing I thought of was that Danish inventor guy and his private murder submarine.
@Vinncent: Thinking everyone is a serial killer is a very normal thing to do, rather than serial killer behavior. hey I'm just asking questions
@alexnpress: in musk's defense, if I'd spent years of my life working with peter thiel, I'd probably think there were a lot more serial killers in the world than there actually are
@nandelabra: There's really no way to prove that neither he nor Peter Thiel are in fact not low-rent Patrick Batemans.
@YePirateLiberal: I will eat my own hat if @elonmusk has ever ridden San Francisco's (efficient, if shabby) BART train or (quaintly adequate) Muni trolley as anything but a publicity stunt to "prove how terrible they are".
@collumbo: In fairness getting public transport to / from your hollowed out volcano can be a challenge
@MyDickerson: Have you considered that you don't hate public transit, you just hate the poor? This is so removed from the actual experience of riding the bus. You are a misanthrope.
@brandcoachkelly: Serial killers don't drive? I mean it seems that would be a better way to get away with the crime, but ok!
Life down on the Rubber Band Plantation, brought to you by Dole Pineapple and the British East India Company
Mitch McConnell, prince of dust, took his current form on February 20, 1942, molded of a strange flesh, his mouth open and already seeking.
Mitch McConnell, for whom the ghouls slaver, spent his childhood crushing spiders in paper napkins and stuffing them into his mouth, one after the other, and never was he seen to expel them at all.
Mitch McConnell, who waits in the gravel pit, attended high school in Georgia, where he sat with the cobwebs and giggled, and would not say where all the town's dogs had gone.
Mitch McConnell, possessor of a human smile, frequently took it out of its jar to woo his wives. They would admire it, play with it, but only Sherrill asked where it had come from. Elaine does not care.
Mitch McConnell, lord of misrule, moved to Kentucky in a single night. Those houses he passed sickened, and lie even now, windowless, in gardens of ash.
Mitch McConnell, whose handshake is like grasping an ankle, ran for the senate in 1984. He performs no real function there. He only sits in his office and smells the women walking by, even up to three miles away.
Mitch McConnell, weaver of cartilage, has three children. Nothing is known of them. He has three children. He has three children, all his own. He has three children. You mustn't touch them, those three children.
Mitch McConnell, beloved of frogs, is always facing you. The longer he watches you the more sweat you see on his face. But he says nothing. There is a pulse in his chin. And still he says nothing. Mitch McConnell, priest of the unshriven, gnaws upon cotton during votes, which he tallies with rows of dead flies. His colleagues know to leave immediately after voting, or, grinning, he will force them to eat their tally mark.
Mitch McConnell, the dampness between the toes, knows intimately the taste of stone. When in his confusion he takes hold of your shoulder and feels your bones, he only wants to know that taste again. When his fingers touch your ribs and his jaw stretches open --
Mitch McConnell, whose inward parts are wet cardboard, does not understand the sun. He sees it from his window each day and vows anew to destroy it. His children assure him he can, and then he smiles and kisses their tough, soft faces like old earlobes.
Mitch McConnell, licker of shrouds, believes in God. He feels he must, for people cry out to Them so often in his presence that it is best to assume God is there somewhere. And it is also best to stop that crying, but then he must in turn stop the struggling, but then
Mitch McConnell, whose true name is a worn tooth, tells his cartilaginous children that corporations are people. And his children agree, and he smiles and kisses their foreheads, where after all these years the slime of their creation is still wet.
Mitch McConnell, drinker of vipers, is not a scientist. He distrusts them, in fact. They know too much. They might know about HIM. So he chews on some red ragged thing and makes a plan he will forget by daylight.
Mitch McConnell, whose tongue is far too sleek, has a gun. He kisses it every noon and calls it by Elaine's name. His children smile and kiss it as well, with their lips like tendons. Mitch wants everyone to have an Elaine to love.
Mitch McConnell, whose breath smells of hawthorn, loves his children. One day he will love them so much they will crawl back into his mouth & nestle there. And then so will we, smiling & free from sin. He loves us. He forgives us. One day we'll understand. He looks forward to it.
Not that this is even particularly clever vandalism, but one of the few charms of Wikipedia used to be that their vandalism lived on for eeeeeevvvvvveeeeerrrrrrr...
Ajit Varadaraj Pai (born January 10, 1973) is a bought-and paid for corporate shill for the telecom monopolists, who's dicks he sucks for money. His only mission in life is to destroy net neutrality, a favor for which his corporate overlords will reward him with more fat sacks of cash. If this is allowed to happen, the freedoms we now have on the web will cease to exist. He is the first Indian American to abuse his office. He also has an incredibly punchable face.
While it is a glorious sight to behold, I think we can make it better!! I propose to install an artistic fountain at the tip of the tower (above the shaft). To conserve water we will build 2 large spherical water tanks at the base of the tower that will collect and recycle the water as it flows down the shaft of the building.
Please sign this petition to show your support for helping us beautify the tower and the skyline!