./Steve

indians think Starbucks = rich, so they’re dumping lattes on camera to flex wealth 💀

future historians are going to have a nightmare trying to explain why we ran out of drinking water because we needed to cool down the machines generating 4K AI fruit videos

just got a life verdict on a death penalty case

Yesterday, using multiple one-way attack surface drones, CENTCOM forces successfully struck a submarine and ship maintenance facility in Iran. Three Corsair unmanned surface vessels hit the port at Bandar Abbas Naval Base, marking the first time American forces have employed sea drones in combat operations. Last night’s strikes degraded Iran’s ability to continue attacking commercial shipping.

Come on, guys, it's time to invent the wheel.

I left Alabama. I am in Georgia now. At 3 a.m. I saw a yellow sign glowing beside the highway. Waffle House. I went in. The parking lot was full. At 3 a.m. I asked the waitress when they close. She looked at me the way you look at a child who has asked when gravity ends. She said, "We don't close, baby." Two things happened in that sentence. One: I learned Waffle House has never closed. Not at night. Not on Christmas. Not during hurricanes. Two: she called me "baby." I am a grown man. I have a mortgage. It repaired something in me I did not know was broken. I ordered hash browns. She said, "Scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped, or topped?" I did not understand a single word in that sentence. I said, "Yes." She nodded and wrote it down. Apparently that was a correct answer. Then I learned something, and I need you to know I did not invent this. The United States government measures the strength of hurricanes by whether the Waffle House is open. Open: the storm is fine. Limited menu: the storm is serious. Closed: evacuate. It is over. This is called the Waffle House Index. FEMA uses it. FEMA. The disaster agency. Japan built earthquake satellites. America watches a diner. Both systems work. At 3 a.m., the Waffle House contained: two truck drivers. A nurse still in scrubs. Four teenagers in prom clothes. One man who had clearly made several mistakes that evening. And one Japanese man with a notebook. Nobody asked anybody why they were there. At Waffle House, being there is the answer. Then a man at the counter noticed my Alabama shirt. It was a gift. Long story. He did not speak. He pointed at the shirt and shook his head slowly, the way you correct someone in church. Then he said, quietly: "Go Dawgs." I panicked and used the only word I own. "Roll Tide." Every fork in the building stopped. The cook looked up from the eggs. The waitress said, "Baby, no." I understand now. Every state here has its own word. My word is from one state ago. The man bought my waffle anyway. He said, and I am quoting him exactly: "You didn't know. Bless your heart." I have been told that phrase has two meanings. I believe I received the gentle one. I believe.