I love how the cable plug used on the switchboard is still the same plug used on electric guitar amplifiers well over a century later; and a downsized version became our modern day headphone port (that is slowly being phased out, but frankly, why mess with something so great?).

I'd like to think, in a parallel universe, there's a film crew taping the tire removal, to air later this summer, as a special episode of The Crocodile Hunter with Steve Irwin.

There's a book that I'm rereading, Mentally Incontinent by Joe Peacock, that was visibly...distorted, due to water damage following a ruptured hot water heater. But I decided to keep it, and have re-read it a couple times since. I have no hesitation to folding corners, writing in it, etc, and at some point I will simply throw it away. I say people should treat books like they own the book, meaning however the hell they want to, just like their cars. Well-worn books are a sign of love. Comic books, however, should just never be read, immediately sealed in an airtight container, and forgotten about until its time to sell your collection, which is too difficult to do properly, so left in a dark box, forever.

I hope the accident victims' cars are equipped with dashcams.
Idiot driver: "What, 5 seconds to red? I can totally make that!", except they're 8 seconds away from the intersection. Crash.

Another interesting, and sadly cancelled, Star Wars project was the game 1313, which looked amazing in this trailer. It was cancelled by Disney just after the grand acquisition. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffgQCQtGzLw

It annoys me that adult+"anything" means sexual, and not grown-up. Oh well, English, amirite?

I'm remembering stories of how many prophylactics are used during the games (hint: a lot), so I'm betting several of these beds will be put to the test.

I was guessing a half-melted wax figure. I was way off.

I really hope that croissant isn't as brown as it appears in this photo...because at first glance, my brain said, "Well, that's obviously a piece of poop."

Aaand his adoptive parents are dead. Because one of the huge number of Superman's enemies was watching the news. And they revealed his secret identity. That everyone in the bank somehow already knew. Still funny though.

**SPOILER**The first one is 7-Eleven. 11-7=4. I don't know the rest, but I'm assuming it's because I don't know the locations by symbol alone.

They should really be a hand model.

It was thinking along these lines (maybe in less depth, maybe more, I don't know) that led me to a completely different belief system than I had in the 1990s. Is there only one soulmate out there, or are there thousands that drift in and out of a Venn diagram saying, "Compatible with You"? What religion is the right one -- are there several or possibly none? If I'm in the mall, and I spontaneously stop walking for 10 seconds, how many lives will this affect through a personal butterfly effect? On that last one, when I'm feeling particularly down, I tend to go somewhere populated and do this, knowing I have had a weird reality-altering effect on the Earth, and maybe the universe, in some minute way. I have both created and destroyed the next Hitler or Hawking, Stalin or Sagan, and so on. I have both totally enriched and utterly wrecked days of my own life, through random happenstance. In what ways, it's impossible for me to ever know, unless this is all a simulation that I can review later.

So...breadsticks? Like most pizza places roll some dough and make breadsticks, same stuff as pizza crust. But half of marketing is selling the same crap as the other guy but with a differently angled ad campaign.