One of the things I resent most about being Animal Brain Apex Predator trapped in Maximum Productivity Society is that I have to work when the weather is gross, instead of following my natural instinct to burrow myself into something dry and soft and sleep until Optimal Foraging Conditions
It is dark and cold and wet and miserable and I have a warm dark quiet hideaway full of food and drinking water that is safe from interlopers and for some ungodly reason instead of holing up there to conserve my energy, I am standing up in a brightly lit beige room for several hours. A possum wouldn't put up with this shit. I'm going to bite someone
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the problem with tumblr spells is all of you lil sluts are casting and not giving it time to charge so you're all casting cantrips and not 9th level death spells. everyone wants to be the one to take them down no one wants to be the one who assists
About color: Everything you’ve been taught so far is (most likely) a lie.
Generally, what we know about color, is extremely “basic” knowledge, in the sense that classical art teachers don’t really know what they’re teaching. They’re just going by the book, rather than studying the book.
I’ve had the honor of being taught by Lawrence Marvit, a teacher who studied everything he wanted to understand to the point where he could tear up old theories with no answer and explain them as simple and correct as possible.
I was asked a while ago if I could give my opinion on a video about how to understand and study color, and if what they said in the video was correct, and I had to say no. I copied my answer for future use, and here’s what I said, just corrected and with more detail:
The things he taught in the video are not actually the most important - it’s just what people are made to believe are important. They are still very much valid, but they make color so much more complicated than it actually is, especially when it comes to putting different colors together in a picture.
Some of these complications come for example from painting. You are told that you can go to an art-store and buy only blue, red and yellow, and then you will be able to mix all the other colors. You will then get surprised to see that you can’t mix a proper blue toned green - you have all the colors, so you’re supposed to be able to get a blue toned green, right?
It’s because we don’t just need the RGB colors, we need a Blue and a red tone of each color, for example a blue toned yellow and a red toned yellow
If you mix a warm blue and a warm yellow together, you’re going to get a muddy sort of green, while if you mix the cold yellow and the cold blue, you’re going to get the blue toned green. As soon as we were taught this in class, so many of us went “IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN THIS JFC DLJFLSKDS” because many of us had tried painting, but stopped the moment we thought we couldn’t mix the RGB colors well enough and that we were stupid, when in actuality - we needed two tones of each color, and no one had told us this.
It’s the same with color harmonies; as much as harmonies are good and all, harmonies are only used if you want your eyes to “feel at rest”. But if you look around in your everyday life, there are basically no color harmonies and yet your eyes are fine and usually also at rest.
It’s because everything is lit under the same light and therefore it ultimately also has the same shadow.
In color class, we were taught about local color and lighting our local colors and giving them a shadow, so no matter how many rainbow and lego colors we splashed on our drawings, everything would still fit together, purely because it’s all lit by the same light and has the same colored shadow. Even with multiple light sources, it still works like this :)
An example could be this;
This is a picture with numerous characters, all of them wearing different costumes with different colors. If it hadn’t been for the red light showering them all, it would have been rainbow barf, and it’s the same thing below! They’re all under the same light and they all have the same shadow so they fit together in the picture.
Local color is the base color aka how does something look under white light when it’s not affected by its surroundings.
For example; A plant is green, but under red light, it looks almost brown and the shadow is blueish.
Btw, a super easy way to find out what the color your shadow would be; invert the color of your light. Like, if you have violet light, invert it and the shadow is going to be green :)
of course you have to make it clear that one thing is the shadow and the other is the light, so desaturating one and lighting up the other is going to help so it’s not the same value. Kind of like this but probably more extreme!
Something that is also important to remember: color is always, ALWAYS in relation to other colors. Even if you put your finger up in front of you, there is still all the colors around your finger which slightly changes how the skin color is perceived. If you take a yellow color and put one square on a white piece of paper and another square on a black piece of paper. On the black piece the yellow color will look like a much more saturated compared to one on the white piece.
You can play with any colors you want as long as they’re lit! Of course if you’re doing a picture with flat colors and no shading, then you have to be careful with the colors you choose so they don’t blend together(unless it’s what you want). That’s mostly a matter of taste though, and color wheels can’t teach you what’s right or wrong, but they teach you what works by the book :)
At the gate for my flight home from visiting friends and there's a woman here with a service Shiba Inu. No pics because he has a Do Not Disturb vest and taking pics of strangers is illegal but I need to stress how ON DUTY this animal is. Ears up. Eyes doing Lazer scans of everything. Examining everyone who passes within 10ft like a security guard. Ass planted on her feet. I have never seen a dog with such intense chivalric guardian energy before. He has tiny eyebrows and they are FURROWED with concentration.
Man behind me having unhinged phone conversation. There is an internationally famous dairy in the area I was visiting and he was commissioned by the lady on the other end of the phone to collect specific cheeses from there. The lady is very high strung about the type and condition of the cheese.
The man does not know from cheese. The man "ain't never seen no cheese but orange before" and "I showed ya list to the cheese lady so if it's wrong it's her fault ok?"
I am 80% sure she sent him there for a really specific bleu cheese, 40% sure he does not have the very specific bleu cheese, and 100% sure he's done with her shit.
Our flight is delayed.
He does not have the cheeses in a cooler, just a regular backpack.
I need to emphasize that there is no cooler bag in the backpack. He has Jansport backpack that is jam-packed with cheeses. There is apparently $405 dollars worth of cheeses in that backpack, which I know because he has been trying to get the lady to venmo him the expense, which she has failed to do. It is unclear whether his relation to the lady is romantic, familial or what, but I'm leaning towards "what".
Two more people have joined us. One is a very elegant man with a perfect manicure in a tailored business suit, the other is a neon-haired person of indeterminate gender wearing a fox kirigumi. The Shiba Inu has been staring at the latter for three minutes now.
Cheese man has been demanding payment because apparently he went like six hours out of his way and paid with his own money and between the cheese and price of gas, he is pretty sure he does not have enough money in his account for an Uber home.
The lady is FLABBERGASTED that he is demanding payment at all, as she was under the impression he was doing this for her out of the goodness of his heart.
He's not having it. He's insisting she told him she would pay him back- he would have gotten her maybe one cheese somewhere closer to his business in the area out of love, but he went out of his way because she agreed to pay him costs+ extra to cover it.
"YOU ALWAYS DO THIS! YOU ALWAYS DO THIS AND I FALL FOR IT EVERY TIME! NO! NO! FUCK YOU! IF YOU'RE NOT GONNA PAY ME, YOU DON'T GET FANCY CHEESE."
"OR ELSE WHAT?"
"I'm gonna-? THE BABY SHOWER? MONICA CAN'T EVEN HAVE THIS CHEESE SHE'S PREGNANT!"
"The cheese lady asked if it was for someone because the mushrooms or whatever in the cheese are dangerous for the baby or something?? You wanna poison Monica?"
"WHY WOULD I LIE ABOUT THAT?"
"YEAH OF COURSE I GOT THE CHEESE, THATS WHY I DON'T GOT MONEY FOR UBER!"
"YEAH, GO TELL! GO TELL MOMMA I STOPPED YOUR STUPID ASS FROM KILLING MONICA OR THE BABY! FUCK!"
*hangs up phone*
*head in hands, borderline hyperventilating*
The man in the three piece suit is in the chair next to him. He waits a moment, then reaches into his carryon and pulls out an entire bottle of wine with the TSA pre check sticker on it, and taps cheese guy on the shoulder.
"If your friend doesn't want it, would you be amenable to having it right now?"
1. This is some fucking great Camembert. I have compensated cheese guy accordingly. So have like six other people. He's recouped like half his losses.
2. Cheese guy is crying a little about the cash and opening up about his problems. The cheese lady is his younger sister. Suit guy is being very generous with his Pinot Blanc. We are having a picnic/improv family therapy session.
3. This is apparently the latest in a long string of his sister asking for something and then flaking when he asks to be paid back. Started with paying him back only some of what he was owed, then claiming something she paid for him was of equal value when it was not, then recently telling him his memory is wrong and he said it was a gift or that he'd do it for free.
"Yeah, the specific thing of trying to convince you your memory is unreliable is called gaslighting and it's really fucked up." I say
"yeeeeah. The other stuff I forgave because she's never really had a good job so she can't pay me back all the time but at least she was making an effort y'know? But that was. That was over the line."
"If you haven't already, check on the rest of your family's finances. My brother started trying to gaslight everyone when he started stealing from our parents." Says Pinot Blanc.
4. Shiba Inu Lady has purchased a cheddar. Apparently, the dog's name is Donut, and he's her service dog because she's severely visually impaired.
"Oh, he's a guide dog?" Asks cheese guy.
"oh, no." She laughs. "He's too short, and the way my eyes are, it's easier for me to navigate with a cane. No, the problem I have is that some morally impaired people see the cane and think they can get away with stealing my bag or assaulting me because I wouldn't be able to give a description- which is wrong, but rather than deal with that I got Donut, and he helps me by howling at anyone who gets in my personal space and biting anyone who grabs me!"
"Uh." Says Kirigumi. "He's been staring at me do I need to back up or..?"
"Ohdear! No, no- He wasn't looking at you! He loves cheese but he knows he's not supposed to beg so he decided the way to deal with something he wants but can't have is to stare in the other direction."
"OKAY!" Says Kirigumi. "I'm wearing fox pajamas and thought like. He thought I was another dog or something."
"No, no- he doesn't care about dogs, and you get a warning before he goes for the calves. Very helpful, when I was living in Italy!"
"Oh what part? I have family in Tuscany." Says Pinot.
"Does he want a cheese? There is still so much cheese." Says cheese guy.
1. Cheese guy has sold all but two or three cheeses that he an Pinot are going to eat on the flight.
2. I know they're planning to continue because Pinot talked to the gate agent so he and cheese guy can sit together and talk about family drama and cheese.
3. Pinot has been teaching him about different types of cheese and how to enjoy them.
4. Cheese guy apparently repairs computers and other technology devices for a living and is currently doing the software version of scraping barnacles and other crap off Pinot'macbook.
5. Pinot is now convinced that cheese guy is the smartest and most interesting man in the world.
Ok so the Wifi wasn't working on the plane (also like, nonstop turbulence) and also they got seated in a different row from me, but:
Now that I've heard the word aloud, and they are an astrophysicist. Who correctly believes in being comfy as fuck on planes. They are also familar with the concept of a meet-cute and is rooting for them too.
Got to walk the nice lady and her Tactical Assault Shiba to her next gate because it was on the way out and talk for a bit. Donut is called that not because he is the color of a Donut (which he is) but because he likes to sleep curled up in a perfect circle. He has a sister who does the same thing named Bagel.
Lost track of Pinot and Cheeseguy for a bit but when I saw them again at Baggage claim, Cheeseguy was holding both their jackets, and Pinot was on the phone to his hotel about "Well do you have any rooms with TWO beds?". The rest of the call indicated that yes, there were rooms with two beds, but Readers, I Had A Moment.
:)
Anyway, it's 2AM, I need to sleep, if you feel like supporting this kind of hard-hitting reporting, I have a Tip Jar!
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Okay, I was just going to reblog this without commentary, but I can't keep this to myself. I'm a PhD student in environmental science and this is my fucking highway.
The first published study about climate change (that I am aware of-- feel free to point out if there's an older one) is an 1896 paper by Svante Arrhenius. He pointed out the link between the greenhouse effect and changes in atmospheric CO2.
Plate tectonics, which the geoscience community now recognizes as near indisputable, was a fringe theory until about the 1960s.
Just in case anyone thought that climate change was a "recent fad" in research.
The practice of fossil fuel companies knowing about and actively covering up scientific data about climate change and running disinformation campaigns to protect their bottom line is older than any existing fossil fuel company.
Day one of trying to resurrect my dead wife and my assistant who for some ungodly reason is the only necromancy expert that agreed to work with me keeps asking things like “where's the lucky body, so to speak” and “are we still in the clandestine promenade to the graveyard with a couple of shovels stage orr” until I snap and tell him I don't need a body for all the advanced reconstruction that I'm pioneering here and I can swear the fucker is giggling behind my back as I type this. The fucking nerve.
Day two of trying to resurrect my dead wife and my assistant keeps insisting it's “not, strictly speaking, necromancy” and I inform him if he keeps going on like that I'll kill him and bring him back to show him what real necromancy looks like, and he makes doe eyes at me and says he's my necromancy expert. I fear one of us may not survive this. Perhaps multiple times.
Day one of trying to ✨reconstruct✨ my dead wife and now that I've conceded on the front of dialectics we can finally get some work done. Maybe exact language is really important when you're a ghoul or a vampire or whatever he is but I'm pretty sure being an asshole played the biggest part in this. Anyway, I showed my assistant (henceforth referred to as The Menace) all of the material I've gathered from my wife's journals and interviews with her friends and the more responsive members of her family and maybe going through all of her browser history and how I have been mapping my findings to an experimental neural guide that I can use as basis for growing a brain (something nobody has done this precisely before, not that it's a big deal) and The Menace went “woww you sure had to do a lot of research to figure out your wife”.
I shut myself in the dungeon as a murder-prevention measure and by the time I cooled off enough to reemerge he has plugged all kinds of new data into the neural guide, data that I have already deemed useless, might I add. The Menace has currently locked himself in the dungeon. Why the actual fuck did I think it's a good idea to have a dungeon that locks from the inside.
Day two of trying to reconstruct my wife and the janky data The Menace plugged into the system seems to have, by some miracle, improved its output’s correlation with the sample data I have of my wife's preferences and ideas as they are presented in her journals by nearly 15%. The Menace still refuses to leave the dungeon even when I inform the bastard I have put away both the medical saw and my poisons kit. Highly unprofessional of him, but what could I expect. I try plugging in some of the other discarded data and correlation drops by 2%.
Day three of trying to reconstruct my wife and The Menace- well I do need them to understand who you are, don't I- has agreed to exit the dungeon on the condition that I refer to him by name, and also that he has his input in making the logs, which currently consists of him peeking over my shoulder as I type and giving even more smug comments than usual. Are you happy now, Derek? Can we finally get to work? And why wouldn't I use Tumblr it's a perfectly adequate blogging platform-
Day three of trying to reconstruct my wife, unmonitored log. Derek passed out as soon as I said we're done, so I have something akin to privacy, snoring notwithstanding. Today has been… productive, actually. Although he won't reveal his methods, he's been doing well enough consistently enough with sorting the data for the neural guide that I left that to him and switched my attention to constructing the body. If work continues at this pace we might get to prototype testing in no more than a week. Fast work. Too fast, maybe. Fuck, I don't know what I'm talking about. I should go to sleep.
…I should probably move Derek to the couch at least. If he sleeps in the chair he's bound to have a headache tomorrow.
Day four of trying to reconstruct my wife and the making of the body turned out to be trickier than I thought. Yes, yes, I know, it has been largely deemed impossible but I figured out the brass tacks easily enough, the devil’s in the details. I know the basics, I have pictures, memories, but they don't particularly detail the inside situation, do they? The deviations in textbook anatomy that make a person something like themselves. She was always fine when we were together. Well, physically at least. I don't have any x-rays or ultrasounds or the like and so I have to turn to the most dire of measures.
I have to go talk to her mother. Derek, if you're reading this, carry on with your tasks as normal. Keep the log going if I don't write tomorrow.
Day five of trying to reconstruct this guy's allegedly dead wife and. God, I do not know what to write here. The neural guide, as he likes to call his pretty janky database, is going fine. Could start growing the ol’ brain tomorrow, if he'll be around to give the go-ahead, but. Well.
Day six. I started growing the brain. I'm pretty sure he'll be mad he wasn't around for the occasion but he's bound to be mad at me anyway, so what the hell
Day eight of trying to reconstruct my dead wife and I have.. not managed to retrieve the medical information. Derek has made significant progress in the meanwhile. I suppose I'll just have to improvise.
Day ten of trying to reconstruct my wife. Taking a break. The trip has had.. an effect. I suppose I know now why she was so eager to get out of that house. Derek will provide updates if there are any.
Day eleven. The brain’s fine. Everything’s fine, except for this whole mess of a project. Janush is moping around in the dungeon and he didn't even care to ask if I am up for continuing the work after.. that. Why wouldn't I be, right? Big, strong Derek. Died before just fine Derek. I ask the brain who its father was and it says he was a musician. It is wrong. I recognize the voice.
Day eleven. I have to acknowledge the lady's capacity to turn a face and a table. Mother-in-law was.. remarkably polite. Gentle, one could say, if one was not in her basement five days prior praying for his life. And there was some logic to her words. She does have, prior experience? Making this body? Of her flesh and all that. It wouldn't be unreasonable to entrust that project to her in exchange for some mother-daughter bonding time and I don't have the resources to do this myself anyway and-
who am I kidding. She wouldn't have wanted this. If I am to drag her back from the dead I need to be honest about who I'm doing this for. What I'm doing this for. If it's worth her being trapped again.
I need to talk to Derek - I think he went to the dungeon just as mother-in-law arrived.
Somehow still day eleven of trying to reconstruct my dead wife and this fucking menace - yes I remember our agreement I don't care - drags a fucking bell tower - no I will not be thanking you for leaving the tower behind there's still a goddamn church bell in here and. Okay if that's how you want to do it let's do it. Let's type out a little q&a, shall we? Keep the record straight.
Q: How did you know there was a secret passage in the dungeon?
A: You're really stuck on that one huh? There was a draft, J. I poked around the first time I was hiding there and found where it was coming from. It's frankly embarrassing you didn't.
Q: Why did you leave?
A: Because I had a genius plan that only worked if I did it right then?
Q: Why did you leave me?
A: I was not aware you’d fancy an elopement. I was under the impression you were in the middle of becoming a happily married man again- okay okay fine put the scalpel down. Jesus Christ. I needed a distraction, it would be suspicious if we both up and left. I thought she would behave if she wasn't on her home turf, and I thought right. It worked perfectly. I am curious when you're planning to hold my celebration party.
Q: So it was all calculated?
A: Yes. My Machiavellian schemes are going very well for me, thank you for noticing.
Q: You are aware I can backread the thread, right?
A: …
Q: Your parting note didn't sound very Machiavellian to me.
A: I fail to see the question here. Yes, she's scary. I was scared. I do some of my best scheming scared.
Q: Fine then. Why the bell?
A: In my opinion it is the best material for the body.
Q: Why?
A: You didn't really bother going through the data you gathered, huh? It's the bell she and her father made together. The personal connection will aid in readjustment greatly. Second to her actual body, which we cannot get or copy, this is the best shot we have.
Q: Why are you doing this?
A: Because you're going to pay me extremely handsomely any day now?
Q: Then why were you the only one willing to help me?
A: I mean, look at this mess. Look at where we are. Holding a q&a in your basement on tumblr dot com while your frankly terrifying mother-in-law is keeping critical information hostage, your phone screen is cracked and typing is hard because the damn thing doesn't recognise my fingers half the time. There's a draft from the secret passage you apparently didn't know about. Not what most would call an ideal work environment.
Q: Then I'll ask again. Why are you here?
A: Look, believe it or not I like what I do, and I like being good at it. If I can squeeze a successful reanimation out of this I can safely consider myself the best in the business. It's professional interest. And the fact that you’ll pay me handsomely any day now doesn't hurt, either.
Day twelve. The body is ready - quick work, but my assistant assures me it is without fault. I think to ask him how he is so sure, think better of it. Maybe it'll all click into place when she's here. Who knows. I miss her. I hope I see her soon.
Commencing the unification and reanimation procedure.
Hiiii. So, I did look over your shoulder when you were logging in to write one of your logs and maybe memorise your email and password just in case, well, in case of this, I guess. I'm so alive you wouldn't believe. Your wife did go up in flames though. Again. My condolences. Your mother-in-law is probably fine? Didn't particularly bother to check. Didn't particularly bother saving our project, either, and I do feel like I owe you an explanation for that.
I wanted her to be real so badly. It would be my greatest work.
Some version of her existed since I was fifteen, perhaps before. I don't remember clearly. She was a necessary invention to keep some of myself: different mannerisms, different likes. Different laugh, all chime and no sting. My father was a bellmaker. He wanted to make music but all he made had the sound of him, and that he could not stomach, so my father was a bellmaker and his wife was a woman with whom he could share a dislike of everything he was, the common interest biding him over to his grave, and then I was left with the metal, my mother and her.
By the time I married you I knew more about her than I did about myself. I'm sorry, you had no chance. She was warm and agreeable and a good listener and she had a beautiful laugh, oh, the chimes in it. I dressed her like a doll and loved the way you looked at her, awed, small glances that caught nothing I would wish to hold. You did not question why our new house had a dungeon that locks from the inside, did not notice the hidden passage leading to the cemetery.
My father was a bellmaker: I know how metal learns to sing in careful hands. Flesh is much more pliable.
I will not bore you with the details – suffice it to say I made myself with much more care than I made her. You had ample opportunity to observe the finished work.
What I do need to tell you is what came of her.
You were right to not go looking for a body: not really much to find. Some parts I used in the transfer - it is a profoundly bad idea to transplant one’s own brain without any assistance, in case you were wondering - the rest are ash in the flower pot in your lab. I thought it’d be a nice touch. I’d love to tell you I had thoughts of coming clean then and there but I am trying to cut back on all the lying, so. You were useful enough, and nice, and I made no plans of missing you. I did not account for how much you'd miss her.
It flattered me, in a way, to see the impact of my craft. Its surprising longevity. I began to wonder whether I had misjudged her, discarded her too easily in my desire to exist. She wasn't real, sure, but who said she couldn't be, given the chance? It was all half formed doubts until I saw your posting and knew exactly what I had to do, which is to reroute all calls and emails to myself and show up a few weeks into the search, when you should have been just desperate enough to accept however. You didn't get any, by the way. Calls or emails. Shouldn't have bothered with the whole interception thing.
To my delight your data had only scraps of me in it, her making up the bulk, and most of the me-scraps you had already discarded as your lovely wife having a particularly bad day and saying things she wouldn't say, otherwise. To my surprise the thing had no chance of living.
It is hard to explain to someone who'd never worn her face: every bit of “I want to be here, I want to exist” was an error, a slip of the mask. Something I failed to separate as cleanly as I would have liked. The more void of me you rendered her the less use there was in trying. So I compromised - threw in a few of the discarded bits and watched the model confirm likeness.
I was an idiot. Probably still am, but now I am aware of at least one of my glorious fuck ups. The mask only works if it fits the face. Do you understand? No matter what he did my father's music had the sound of him.
This would be a great time to stop and walk away but. I’m not sure but what. Sure Mother did piss me off but it's not like she did anything she wouldn't do, and anyway it had nothing to do with me now. Maybe I wanted to figure out what your angle was. Maybe it was too much fun to throw dead wife introspections at you and see the wheels in your pretty head all crash into each other.
Anyway, sorry I didn't save your wife. The whole question of personhood was really getting to me and no matter if she could be her own person or was truly just a piece of me it would be unfair for her to be born trapped into the same old bullshit. Also fires make me nervous. You can think that she broke free if you want, which wouldn't be the truth but wouldn't be as much of a lie as I thought. It was fun. Lying to you less. Scary as shit at times, but fun.
You can DM me on Discord if you want to hang out or something.
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part of being an adult is figuring out what eveyone else's definition of "going crazy" is. to you it is not sleeping for 60 hours, writing 80k words in one sitting and expiriencing enough anxiety to kill a horse. to beth from accounting its buying a ticket to Columbus, Ohio. and to your friend its consuming so much ketamine you lose all of your posessions and wake up with five broken bones in a ditch somewhere and then proceeding to do it again the next day. to your other friend its writing a letter to their favourite actress about how much they appreciate her work. to your neighbour its laughing loudly in a grocery store whilst in pajamas. maya from uni hears the voice of her dead father making jokes with no punchlines and she considers that to be quite normal - to her going crazy would be hearing her husband instead. your downstairs neighbour will take night walks naked sometimes and claim there is nothing weird about him. there are literally no rules to life and all meaning is in the eye of the beholder.
happy disability pride month to mean cripples, nasty addicts, people with down syndrome who arent nice and talk constant shit, wheelchair users that WILL run you over, autists that dont care and arent about to pretend to, people who lie to their psychiatrists, people that sit on the floor in public places with no benches, amputees that lie profusely about "what happened", ; to the "noncompliant", the "drug seeking", the "mean", the "difficult" and the "undeserving", and so on and so forth, i love us all and we deserve the world actually mwah mwah
to people that hide contraband in their assistive devices. to people that do party tricks they arent supposed to and people who will spit on you if you ask them to do party tricks. to people that weaponise the infantalisation of disabled people for their own purposes (theft et. al.). to the people who "misuse" their medication and people who dont take it at all. to my mother, who takes out her hearing aids when she doesnt want to hear shit anymore but will still pretend to be listening so you dont catch on. to people who sleep all the time and to people with "abnormal" circadian rhythms who are unwilling to alter their sleep/wake cycle to best appeal to societal (and moral) expectations. to people that complain loudly about inaccessibility and refuse to try and "make it work". to people that charge money for invasive questions and people that pretend not to understand the question at all.
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In science it's important to resist the natural human impulse to ascribe telos to inanimate things. The things we study simply are; while their interactions may reliably produce certain outcomes, this does not imply that the production of these outcomes is what those things are "for". So, yes, the ray often causes death, but that doesn't make it a "death ray".
