I use fireball in mine. So the revolution will smell like cinnamon.

I’m not going to say exactly what it would take, but it rhymes with Bolotov Cocktail

It’s one thing to demand justice for those who cannot obtain it themselves. That is noble, and just.

It’s quite another to lament all day about the guy who absent mindedly stole your place in the self checkout lane. To lay in accusations of malice when ignorance would otherwise do.

I’ll grant you that the way things should be is very often at odds with the way things are. But no person I’ve met who I would describe as an obsessively negative person could ever be labeled an optimist. Their view of the world is always one of conflict. No grace given for innocent mistakes, no breath taken when the weight of the world comes down upon their shoulders in a way that simply cannot be changed. These people are ever the victim of their own mentality.

I wonder if they can experience joy because they seem hard wired to find the fault in every bit of happiness. To seek out sour grapes and bitter apples in every bowl of sweet fruit.

Skill issue

I have a picture of luddites smashing looms on my bench at work. It’s one of the first things a tour would see as they walk through.

The guy who’s name is on the front of my building often leads those tours.

WE DRINK YOUR WATER, AND EAT YOUR TENDIES TOO

I always wonder if obsessively negative people ever feel joy. Or are they just wired to carry around rage boners all the time. If it isn’t exhausting I just can’t see how they can be happy