The old tower was stuffed with books. Over the years distinct sections formed.
The crafting manuals had gathered near the kitchen, which was dominated by recipe books.
In the sunniest spire sat books about woodland critters making mischief against mean farmers.
In the renovated former-dungeons the romance novels shuddered, yearning for warm hands.
It was all protected by a dragon, who owned the tower and preferred books over princesses.
It's trying to rent an apartment, or buy a house, the costs of which increase steadily as they fall into fewer and fewer hands.
It is, in other words, inequality.
It just keeps on going. I remember when I first saw the gap between productivity and wages documented, in my 20’s, I went absolutely off the wall. How were we accepting this?
I'm almost 40 now. It uh, hasn't really gotten better. Everyone is just kind of walking through the mud.
as long as we're ragging on towels. @Sophistifunk ...
... I have come to detest the MICRO-FIBER type material for this application.
If I'm trying to dry my CAR, fine, but
I hate it in the kitchen or bath. I DO THINGS and my hands are a bit rough... not bad, but still... those towels SNAG on my hands.
It's a horrible feeling. Blech.
The threat to you is just a hypothetical one—that you may someday no longer be able to decide who lives and who dies.
The threat to everyone else is the one you are creating, with the actual massacre weapon you are holding in your actual hands.
It strikes me that these are things that you can really only believe in a world if you have convinced yourself that other people are not actually people.
And that's how everyone recognizes that you are a gun supremacist.
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