perfectly loved true bird

apparently amazon's AI catastrophically fucked up and equated bytes with gigabytes so started billing aws customers literally billions of dollars for their data usage

Okay I must confess: I do not actually find Count Binface very funny. I think as a comedian he is truly, terribly middling. Every one of his joke proposals or platforms seems designed to amuse my father, and that is not high praise. However. His presence is hilarious. There is nothing funnier to me than a room or stage full of politicians in suits and ties, and Count Binface. Now that Binface for the Commons is, if still a pipe dream, a slightly more plausible pipe dream, we have to face the reality of the bit becoming stale. I think that if he gets into parliament he has to drop the jokes - keep the outfit and voice though - and just stand there in the Commons doing normal MP stuff while everyone around him either tries to ignore him or to take him seriously. This is the only way a Binface tenure can be funny.

Watching my toddler figure out how to language is fascinating. Yesterday we were stumped when he kept insisting there was a “Lego winner” behind his bookshelf - it turned out to be a little Lego trophy cup. Not knowing the word for “trophy”, he’d extrapolated a word for “thing you can win”. And then, just now, he held up his empty milk container and said, “Mummy? It’s not rubbish. It’s allowed to be a bottle.” - meaning, effectively, “I want this. Don’t throw it away.” But to an adult ear, there’s something quite lovely about “it’s allowed to be a bottle,” as if we’re acknowledging that the object is entitled to keep its title even in the absence of the original function.

Another good post to read for those writing small human characters. 

My son was about three when he came to me in the middle of the day and said, “Mommy, there’s a knight behind the bush.” I thought he meant a toy knight or something. So I follow him outside and he goes, “Listen. Do you hear it? It’s night behind the bush.” It was a cricket. A cricket was standing in the little patch of shade under the bush, chirping. So, my son saw this dark area with accompanying nighttime sounds and decided, okay, well, that is a night right there. Their brains are incredible.

My little bean knows she’s two, constantly saying proudly ‘I’m two!’ And the other day she saw this very frail old lady who looked one foot in the grave, pulled a face and said ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’ I almost screamed.

OH SHIT SHE’S THREE

the two year old bean is now 11, that’s how long this post has been going around, and I STILL bust out laughing like a maniac whenever I read ‘oh shiiiit. She’s three.’

Two animals who appreciate the Warm Lamp