Unleash The Archers’s version of Northwest Passage is a real banger.

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Our culture phrases damn near everything in metaphors of war. The war on drugs. The battle of the bands. Bob lost his battle with cancer. It’s absolutely pervasive, to the point it’s almost as invisible as the air.

Rule number one: the kids are alright.

And then squeegee down your forearms and aprons and get back to work.

You just pull the wrist hole open and dump out the excess hand water every hour or so.

A sign that reflects the eternal truth… You don’t buy beer. You rent it.

I think the cleanliness of the blade would be less relevant than the massive infection pouring from your pierced guts into the wound.

when “free water” counted as retail innovation

It depends on where you are. Public consumption laws are local.

Well that’s after the book was mistranslated through version after version.

Utah has an accurate translation that their prophet found by looking into his hat.

Legend.

They clearly needed some good guys with nail guns and toobifores to cage this sumbitch up.

“The Dark Beyond the Stars” by Frank Robinson might fit for you. It’s set on a generation ship that can’t find a good landing spot.

Engineers aren’t in charge of graft.

Sidetalking 2, electric boogaloo

https://sidetalking.com/original/

Spud Webb - 5’6", won the 1986 NBA dunk contest

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spud_Webb

Close. You don’t add liquid and flour. You brown the meat, and render out fat. It’s vital to have a couple tablespoons of liquid fat in the pan. If you don’t get enough from the sausage, augment with a bit of butter or oil. Heat around medium.

Then sprinkle in flour, about equal in volume to the liquid fat, and stir. You gently fry the flour in the oil to cook off the raw flour flavor. It’ll go from white to about sand color. If your proportions are right it will look a bit like wet sand, and will smell like roasted nuts a bit.

Now slowly stir in cold milk while whisking gently to mix and prevent lumps. Scrape the bottom to deglaze any browned on flecks of meat. You want to heat it to just bubbling not to scorch the milk. It’ll thicken up.

Then grind a bunch of pepper in to finish it off, and pour over biscuits, fried taters, or whatever.

All gravy works this way, pretty much. Gravy for turkey? Replace the milk with poultry stock. Gravy for steak? Beef stock it is.

Bad Santa. It’s cynical and hilarious and still ends up weirdly heartwarming.

It’s not so much two infants irrationally arguing. Israel has owned some of this land for three generations. So the folks living there have passed it down as long as they’ve been alive. But another group owned it first, and the oldest among them remember the days before the occupiers came.

It’s like if the Cherokee decided to go full on guerrila warfare in the 1940s. Would they maybe have a point? How would it square with folks that had already been there for 80 years? It’s the settlers generational home now, too. Everyone has legitimate greivances. It’s not about settling tantrums, it’s about mediating between people that have legitimate but mutually exclusive claims.