someone will remember us

And they were like "What?"

And I was like, "Agility isn't the ultimate form of preparedness. Contingency is. Agility still requires you to flounder and figure out a solution in the moment, but if you have a contingency plan, all you have to do is implement it."

And they were like "But you can't make contingency plans for every situation!"

And I was like, "Yeah, you basically can if you just identify all of your basic dependencies and contingency plan around the loss of any dependency," and then I gave a few examples.

And they all stared at me like I'm an alien.

As he described to the interviewer a moment of panic and how he he overcame, the interviewer said, in one of those, summarise-last-answer-given-with-appropriate-levels-of-respect-in-order-to-proceed-to-next-question phrasing’s, “Wow, so you rose to the occasion -“

sees some incest mpreg

Picture 2: a sinking boat. On the part of the boat that is still afloat, you can see its name, “no worries”.

Picture 3: a road sign that reads “thank you for driving carefully”. Just behind it, there is a car that fell outside the road and is laying on its side.

Picture 4: a pole with two road signs. The top one reads “New Life Ln”, while the bottom one, pointing to the left, indicates “dead end”.

Picture 5: closeup of a shop’s shelf. The card that tells you what item it is reads “invisible spray”. Behind it, there are no items.

Picture 6: a shop’s insignia that reads “Antique tables”, and, just below it, in smaller size, is written “Made daily”.

Picture 7: a truck that fell halfway inside a huge hole on the road. On the truck there is an ad that reads “join the club!”, and “get into this!”.

Picture 8: a sign inside a shop that reads “fasteners”, hanging on by only one corner because one of its fasteners broke.

Picture 9: inside a bookshop, the misspelled word “dictinary” is written above the dictionary section.

It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.

Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.

Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.

The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.

The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.

She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.

She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."

#i didnt reblog the first time #because i wanted to verify this #and now that i have? hell yeah brownie grandma

What I did was find sources that made the claim (in this case, that a woman named Mary Jane was a medicinal marijuana activist in California, USA in the 1980s and 90s.) I checked the dates to get some certainty those sources aren't AI slop, then checked that the sources are generally reliable.

Then I followed useful details about the place and time, and other people involved, to explore it more fully.

The first thing I did was search for "Brownie Mary" and see if that turned anything up at all. It turned up a LOT of results. Predictably, some of them were recipes, but not all of them.

Next up, I checked sources and dates. Wikipedia can be dodgy for academic use, but their policy on LLM-generated input is very clear: they don't want slop. I started by reading that page and then went on to read others.

The Atlas Obscura article is from 2018. I found another one from SFWeekly from 2017.

Both of those are decent sources - Atlas Obscura gets a High factual reporting rate from MediaBiasFactCheck, and while MBFC doesn't have a rating for SFWeekly, the verbiage in that article is very close to what GastroObscura has. (Also to what the post itself has, right down to the choice of pull quote.)

Now, we can stop there and feel pretty confident that articles published before the wide availability of LLMs are not, in fact, LLM generated.

...or we can go deeper, and run this all the way back to source.

I spotted references to a Chicago Tribune imterview of Mary Jane Rathbun, published in 1993.

My search string of "Chicago Tribune 1993 Mary Jane Rathbun" hit it in the top 3 results. That article includes some fun new details: she wore a cannabis leaf shaped pendant to her trial!

She also objected to being portrayed as a cuddly grandma up against The Man, so I must retract my flippant tags, above.

The evidence now strongly points to Brownie Mary being a real woman who really went to court for giving AIDS patients weed brownies. But can we get closer? I've now seen several mentions of a 1980 attempt at convicting her too.

The articles have mentioned Sonoma County and a nonprofit called the Shanti Project, so let's hook onto that and see what we get.

Searching for "Mary Jane Rathbun Sonoma County 1980" gets me an article from a law firm; that mentions the prosecuting attorney by name, and points to a book: Lust for Justice: The Radical Life & Law of J. Tony Serra, by Paulette Frankl. It even has an excerpt!

We can run the book down too, just for fun (now we have a primary source.) My favorite used book site has a copy for $1. Amazon gives a view of the back cover, too:

...wow. I should see if my library has that!

The excerpt on the site has a mention of a candelight vigil held for her death in 1999. It took some hunting past things I'd already read and a bunch of shops giving written tributes, but I found a news report about that, too.

There's a lot of information out there, and it's worth digging into. Otherwise it's altogether too easy to think something real and worth knowing is just another bit of slop.

Signal boosting for the Truth.

OP: If ordinary people wear commoner-style Hanfu, will it enhance their aura as much as wearing elaborate Hanfu?

Got a message asking why so many hanfu in transformation videos are elaborate styles for officials and nobles, like do "commoners’ hanfu" get no representation? That's actually one of the hot topics in China's hanfu community. It's been discussed so many times, and there are already a lot of well-formed views on this.

The revival of hanfu is incredibly diverse and inclusive — commoners’ hanfu is definitely part of it. In this context, “commoners’ hanfu” generally refers to simpler clothing with less decoration and less luxurious fabrics, worn by everyday people like peasants, townsfolk, urban residents, small traders, household servants and so on (they held no official posts and had no noble titles, and they weren't wealthy merchants either). Hanfu enthusiasts have actually recreated many such styles based on historical records.

Back in feudal times, ordinary people were not allowed to wear colors reserved for the imperial family or use embroidery patterns that symbolized noble rank or official status. This doesn't mean they dressed in rags—far from it. In dynasties known for open social customs and economic prosperity, commoners, especially women, could dress quite elegantly and colorfully. Chinese people in those era placed great importance on festivals. During celebrations like the Lantern Festival, Spring Festival, and Shangsi Festival(Double Third Festival for Spring Outing), they would go out to meet people, so they pay extra attention to their attire. It was very common for ordinary people to save up for a few nice sets of clothing — not being wealthy didn’t mean they had no decent clothes to wear.

Particularly during the Song and Ming dynasties, it was common for ordinary people to wear brocade. In the Song dynasty, wearing floral headpieces(huaguan花冠) was popular among women, whether noble or common. By the Ming dynasty, women could even wear bridal attire resembling phoenix crowns and embroidered capes(feng guan xia pei凤冠霞帔) for their weddings — as long as they avoided patterns exclusive to the nobility. Even maids from noble households could dress in lavish and delicate attire, thanks to the advanced silk weaving techniques of the time. Though they were commoners by status, their clothing was often indistinguishable from that of the young ladies of wealthy families.

Also you can often see commoner men in classical paintings wearing long robes like formal gowns, cloaks, or even loose-sleeved garments, while commoner women usually wore a top layered over a skirt. Basically, commoners and nobles wore very similar styles of clothing. The real differences were in the fabric, decorative patterns, and craftsmanship.

In discussions among Chinese netizens, there is a divide in opinions regarding Hanfu. Some argue that there should be greater promotion of "commoner hanfu""everyday hanfu""modern hanfu" – simpler, more practical styles suitable for daily wear and relaxing at home – rather than always opting for elaborate, ornate Hanfu that requires time-consuming hairstyling and makeup. Others believe that in the modern era, intricate Hanfu represents the artistic heritage of past laborers and artisans, not just the privileged class, and that people should be free to wear whatever they prefer.

Nowadays hanfu content creators widely share this sentiment: Many of today's Chinese people are descendants of resilient ordinary ancestors who survived generations of war, natural disasters and hardships. In this era of material abundance, they now wear exquisitely crafted hanfu. Wearing hanfu feels like fulfilling a long-cherished wish on behalf of their forebears—after all, everyone hopes to dress as they please; These garments embody the craftsmanship, wisdom, and diligence of historical laboring people (even royal hanfu was made by embroiderers and weavers, who themselves came from ordinary backgrounds); so exquisitely crafted hanfu never belonged exclusively to the wealthy; it truly belongs to the people.

Of course, not all hanfu content creators share the same view. Some hanfu bloggers still believe that daily outings should feature simpler, more casual Hanfu styles rather than always dressing in elaborate attire. Their reasoning is: “I still hold the view that the revival of Hanfu depends on reaching a broader market. Only when people who don’t follow traditional culture become aware of Hanfu can it truly take root.” Other bloggers respond in a more conversational tone: “Public tastes vary. While some prefer simplicity, most people are first drawn to eye-catching, gorgeous outfits, which then spark their interest to learn more. I don’t think we should dictate what others should wear—clothing is a personal expression. Those who prefer simple, everyday styles should wear them, and those who love intricate designs should embrace those.” In practice, it’s common for people to switch between different Hanfu styles depending on the occasion and their needs. Many content creators have also shown interest in commoners hanfu and have recreated styles suitable for both lounging at home and going out.

He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.

At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.

At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive's wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.

At 2:47 AM she was there.

I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.

But I had never met my grandmother.

"One ticket, please." she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. "Of course. "

It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.

"Your ticket." I presented, and without thinking added "Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?" It is how I was raised.

"Yes. Assist me." she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.

We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. "A friend of yours?" she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive's family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?

"No, grandmother." I responded truthfully. "He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone." It is how I was raised.

The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.

"You are a well-mannered girl." she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.

A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.

The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.

I had a nightmare last night.

I was a reporter.

I spent a lot of time thinking about The Rules, and wondering how things worked. Thank you for reading.

Part 3 coming soon.