I think records were just a little bubble through time and those who made a living from them for a while were lucky. There is no reason why anyone should have made so much money from selling records except that everything was right for this period of time. I always knew it would run out sooner or later. It couldn't last, and now it's running out. I don't particularly care that it is and like the way things are going. The record age was just a blip. It was a bit like if you had a source of whale blubber in the 1840s and it could be used as fuel. Before gas came along, if you traded in whale blubber, you were the richest man on Earth. Then gas came along and you'd be stuck with your whale blubber. Sorry mate - history's moving along. Recorded music equals whale blubber. Eventually, something else will replace it.
Wal-Mart can't seem to grasp an essential fact: in 2006, the company has exactly the reputation it has earned. No, we don't give the company adequate credit for low prices. But the broken covenant Sam Walton had with how to treat store employees, the relentless pressure that hollows out companies and dilutes the quality of their products, the bullying of suppliers and communities, the corrosive secrecy, the way Wal-Mart has changed our own perception of price and quality, of value and durability-none of these is imaginary, or trivial, or easily changed with a fresh set of bullet points, an impassioned speech, and a website heavy with "Wal-Mart facts". If Wal-Mart does in fact double the gas mileage of its truck fleet, and thereby double the gas mileage of every long-haul truck in America, that will be huge. It will change gas consumption in the United States in a single stroke. But it hasn't happened yet. And even if it does, it will not make Wal-Mart a good company or a good corporate partner or a good corporate citizen.
The ten billion animals that are killed every year for meat and the virulent consequences of contemporary animal agricultural practices remain conspicuously absent from public discourse. How often have you seen media exposes on the violent treatment of farm animals and the corrupt practices of carnistic industry? Compare this with the amount of coverage afforded fluctuating gas prices or Hollywood fashion blunders. Most of us are more outraged over having to pay five cents more for a gallon of gas than over the fact that billions of animals, millions of humans, and the entire ecosystem are systematically exploited by an industry that profits from such gratuitous violence. And most of us know more about what the stars wore to the Oscars than we do about the animals we eat.
The attempt to develop a sense of humor and to see things in a humorous light is some kind of a trick learned while mastering the art of living. Yet it is possible to practice the art of living even in a concentration camp, although suffering is omnipresent. To draw an analogy: a man's suffering is similar to the behavior of gas. If a certain quantity of gas is pumped into an empty chamber, it will fill the chamber completely and evenly, no matter how big the chamber. Thus suffering completely fills the human soul and conscious mind, no matter whether the suffering is great or little. Therefore the "size" of human suffering is absolutely relative.
Viktor E. Frankl
Vimes, listening with his mouth open, wondered why the hell it was that dwarfs believed that they had no religion and no priests. Being a dwarf was a religion. People went into the dark for the good of the clan, and heard things, and were changed, and came back to tell... And then, fifty years ago, a dwarf tinkering in Ankh-Morpork had found that if you put a simple fine mesh over your lantern flame it'd burn blue in the presence of the gas but wouldn't explode. It was a discovery of immense value to the good of dwarfkind and, as so often happens with such discoveries, almost immediately led to a war. "And afterwards there were two kinds of dwarf, " said Cheery sadly. "There's the Copperheads, who all use the lamp and the patent gas exploder, and the Schmaltzbergers, who stick to the old ways. Of course we're all dwarfs, " she said, "but relations are strained.
BABY GOT THE GUCCI ON THE FRAMES, FENDI ON THE SHOULDER SHE HANG AROUND THE RAPPERS, SHE KICK IT WITH THE ROLLERS SHE ADDICTED TO THE LIGHT, YOU WOULD SWEAR SHE WAS THE SOLAR SYSTEM ON BANG WHILE SHE DIPPING IN THE ROVER I WAS SIPPING ON A SODA WHEN I FIRST SEEN HER ROLL UP CAR PULL RIGHT BEHIND HER, PARKING AT THE DINER STRUTTING DOWN THE AISLE, EVERYBODY STOPPED TO EYE HER I'M PEEPING IN THE CUT WITH THOUGHTS TO GET IN THAT VAGINA SIMPLE OLD ME, TRIED TO PIMP IT ON SHE BUT DAMN SHE AIN'T HAVING THAT SHE WANNA SEE MY CRIB ON TV WITH A COUPLE HUMVEES AND THEN I MIGHT HAVE A CHANCE, BUT WAIT, WAIT A COUPLE WEEKS PASSED, I HAD STOPPED TO GET GAS HEARD A VOICE TO MY LEFT, SHE WAS TALKING REAL FAST HIGH-PITCHED WAS HER TONE, SMILED AT ME THEN SHE ASKED "AIN'T YOU IN THAT ONE GROUP?" I LOOKED AT HER AND LAUGHED, HIT THE GAS!