I got an interesting question about the #TSMC fabs, which are better-than-Class 100 cleanrooms (fewer than 100 particles of <.5 microns per cubic foot), and have the cleanest air I’ve ever breathed. The question from @marcaross: What does it taste like?
I’m curious what engineers who actually WORK in best-in-class cleanrooms say, but here’s my answer:
It’s interesting how much the coveted effects of speed/meth (used on the midcentury battlefield, say) can be attributed to the decongestant part. And presumably, air with such low particulate matter is more easily breathed, thus the speedy effect
Same with steroids. Opposite with opiates which relax the lungs and slow the breathing.
Oh and this is the piece I’m talking about that documents the experience of the fabs (and other stuff):
Which reasoning for wearing black do you prefer? BONUS: identify sources for all. 1. I'm in mourning for my life. 2. I wear black on the outside
'Cause black is how I feel on the inside. 3. I have that within which passeth show;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
No one is getting these? Has Musk unlettered us all?!
Brilliant addition from @alohagordy, and I'm a dunce for missing: 4. I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down
Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town
Boris Johnson: “There are some Republicans who take a very peculiar view of what is going on. They somehow have come to identify, through a really weird piece of logic, Putin with conservatism...and Ukraine as being woke. I mean, Give me a break."
This was inevitable. Just as "politically correct," which once referred to cultural affections came to mean "anti-torture" at Gitmo, so "woke" now means "pro-democracy."
You have the NYT hammering away at their is-this-a-dagger-I-see-before-me wokeness phantom—the fucking *endless* anti-trans stuff—& the letting the GOP turn the airhead centrist opposition to wokey into an opposition to democracy, humaneness, and—as Putin has it—humanity itself.
—It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold,
sallying forth
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow'rd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds
Which for that service had been husbanded,
By exhortation of my frugal Dame—
Motley accoutrement, of power to smile
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,—and, in truth,
More ragged than need was! O'er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets,
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Just saw "The Insider" for the first time in 23 years.
Staggering to think that if you had a blockbuster world-changing interview in 1995 the only way to get it to the world was to work through immovable corporate forces like CBS, Westinghouse, Brown & Williamson, and all of their lawyers.
Equally staggering to think that the only people who got death threats in 1995 were whistleblower bent on destroying whole sectors of the economy.
Today it's anyone with a Twitter account who says something marginally critical and completely ineffectual about its CEO.
There's a great distinction in the work of (CW for haters of philosophers) Bruno Latour. A better notion than "bias" is "interest." Chapelle's snickering cruelty is now clear. But the mystery really is why Chapelle is interested in—so anxious about & fixated on—trans people.
He doesn't make jokes about Etruscans, or his mother, or customer service reps. The question is why this specific profusion of interest.
It's almost hysterical, like echolalia. The topic is so compelling to him that he must return to it over and over, and will give up everything for it, let it capsize his work, his intelligence, his legacy. JK Rowling too. The question is why.