The way McLaren and Aston Martin progress flipped in two different direction since the beginning of the season needs to be studied.
Aston is going downhill and McLaren is going uphill and that intersection between the two is Ferrari.
This is how the chart looks.
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Okay...okay...so...sososo...you know how Twitter finally made good on revoking all the verified accounts from people who weren't paying the $8/mo asshole tax?
NO!
NO, THEY DIDN'T!
There's no way to automatically remove the verified flag on all the accounts, they would have to have gone account-by-account to remove them individually.
So instead...THEY JUST HID THE CHECKMARK ICON!!
You can still see if an account is legacy verified by putting in the search filter:
filter:verified from:@namehere
Anyone with a legitimate verified account you search for will show up. Anyone with a this-mfer-paid-for-Twitter account won't.
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Whew, what a crazy week. Things are finally winding down. Spent most of today helping Fannie get settled, and also tracking down random knickknacks Treeso left behind so I can pack a box to send to him. I’d forgotten about his Gungan army miniature collection…he used to hide the figures in random places to annoy me. I just found General Jar-Jar Binks hiding in my underwear drawer.
I have so much room in the bedroom now. But I can’t take up too much space, ‘cause I’m gonna have to share the room again come September. (With whom? Great question, you have one day left to cast your vote…)
Fannie’s taking the living room. Honestly, it’s a pretty sweet deal for her—the air conditioning unit is in there. Because, for some reason, it’s the year 29 After the Battle of Yavin and we have flying cars and droids nearly indistinguishable from sentients, but I live in an apartment that can’t have air conditioning in both rooms—something something landlords. Yeah, yeah, Mr. Property Manager, my apartment’s a historical unit, a well-preserved relic of Theed’s rich heritage, blah blah blah. I’m a corporate news underling now; I know how to market stuff too.
Ugh, and it’s getting so hot here. When I leave for work in the morning I’m already covered in sweat. I’m gonna have to become one of those douchebags with the tank tops cut all the way open on the sides, since I would like to wear something around the house at least vaguely approximating a shirt, if I’m living with a girl.
I haven’t told my parents yet about Fannie moving in. I one-hundred-percent guarantee that they will make it Weird and A Thing.
But I did mention it to Rey, who, fortunately, gets that we’re just friends. Even if her reasoning is that I’m “super dumb and butt-ugly,” and Fannie’s “too pretty for me.” But hey…I’ll take it!
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You know, it's not fair to be in the cyberpunk capitalist dystopian future without all the fun gadgets that made those stories memorable and fantastical and even, potentially, livable.
It's just not fair.
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It's really lovely that my old work bestie (who is still a friend, just no longer works with me) invited me to her wedding but it's costing me one thousand dollars like GIRL
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