You Are Dumb, which is not a blog, posts new columns every weekday, except for most Tuesdays and the occasional fuckbotch. It is also a Twitter feed, @youaredumb, with content in a similar vein but much shorter. For a take on what a blog by me would be like, check out OLDNERD.
Water, Germs, and Musk
Memo to Marco Rubio, Prevention Magazine, and possibly the New York Times: YOU WERE DUMB VERY RECENTLY.
I feel bad for the middle of my research pile. The old stuff gets used up because it's old, the new stuff gets used up because it's exciting and topical. The middle stuff just has to sit around and wait until it becomes the old stuff. So, yeah, I feel bad. Just not bad enough to make today about the middle stuff. All fresh, all new, it's SPASTIC TOPICAL MONKEY FRIDAY!
Marco Rubio's Liquid Lunge! I don't think his hilariously awkward, unprepared lunge for a sip of Poland Spring says anything about him as a person or a politician, really, although once again, the whole thing came off looking like they forgot they had to actually do it until the last minute. No, what says a lot about him as a person is how he tried to shrug it off on Good Morning America. ACTUAL QUOTE TIME!
"What are you going to do? God has a funny way of reminding us we're human."
Well, one thing you're probably going to do is keep water closer than that. Also, why did you need God to remind you you're human? Were you forgetting? Are you saying God made you all sweaty and nervous and dry-mouthed and lip-smacky? And he did it to take you down a peg? This is why I will always be an atheist. Theology is FUCKING CONFUSING.
Prevention Magazine, by way of the Huffington Post, has advised me to wash my doormats because they are covered in germs. Of course they're covered in germs. They're outdoors. The outdoors is covered in germs. My solution to this? Never, ever lick my doormats.
But Prevention has a "better" idea: "Spray the doormat once a week with a fabric-safe disinfectant.". No thanks, Howard Hughes. I suppose your Rube Goldberg contraption of a vector - shoes to bottoms of grocery bags to countertops to people - might someday give me Doormat Ebola, but I think I'll let my regular countertop cleaning and my immune system handle that, thanks. An ounce of fucking coping is worth a pound of old Prevention magazines, as they say.
The New York Times recently gave a bad review to the Tesla electric car. Which would normally be no big deal. It's a consumer product, they have consumer journalists, they test things, they tell you how it went, you make your purchasing decisions, the world continues to turn.
The Tesla is chock full of computers. And is made by Elon Musk, who may be a Bond villain or possibly a beneficial alien, but the point is, he's crazy smart. So when you tell the world in the newspaper that somehow didn't lose all of its credibility after the run-up to the Iraq War that the Tesla is unreliable because you got stranded between charging stations, you'd better not be full of it.
Because Elon Musk says they've got all the logged data from reporter John Broder's test, and the data says that Broder fucked up all the charging cycles, drove the thing at top speed, and blew past charging stations in what is either gross incompetence or a deliberate attempt to get himself stranded.
Is Musk right? Is Broder a dick? I don't know. Musk is certainly capable of coming up with reams of fake data to discredit Broder. But I've read Broder's rebuttal, and he doesn't address any of the discrepancies between what he said happened and what the logs said happened. All he did was claim ignorance of what to do with the car, under the apparent defense that people shouldn't have to know anything about how their car works in order to drive it. So at least for now, I'm on the side of the helpful alien.