I used to think any conspiracy of three or more was doomed to someone talking, but now I’m pretty sure there’s a bipartisan cabal of billionaires who get together and laugh and laugh about how they can get with absolutely every American underaged daughter if they just keep people scrolling material that paints an opposition as lunatics void of all humanity, such that a pack of horny dimwitted robber-barons seem positively electable by comparison.
Know its inevitability. Ride its currents.
After getting freaked out, realize that being freaked out changes nothing. Might as well see the unfolding of an uncertain event as the unwrapping of a gift.
That was so long ago. Since then, I’ve come full cycle to find that I’m not.
I haven’t tried them all. Supposedly, there could be as many as 6,600 restaurants in the greater metropolitan area (but there are at least 2,700.) I eat out once or twice a week when at home, so… Plus, I have no idea what constitutes “best,” and I don’t trust single experiences as evidence. I once thought I’d had the best fried chicken in the world from a vendor cart in Bangkok. The chicken was probably okay, but I think the fact that I’d walked ten miles and hadn’t eaten in as many hours pushed said chicken into its exalted spot. And I very much don’t trust hype. Long story short, I guess we’ll never know.
