#primary drive engine

[sw5w]

Droid Control Ship Destroyed

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 02:03:30

[wolfwarrior142]

But ya also have to remember that the F-150 is the smallest "full size" truck that Ford makes. And thus also the weakest. It's a nice truck, better than nothing, great if that's all you can afford. But not the beefiest truck that Ford makes. There's also the F-250, F-350, and even the F-650 that's basically like a diet semitruck. We have a 2003 F-350- that thing has taken a beating and hauled lots of shit and does well with it. It has been out go-to hauling truck since we got it, even for pulling a trailer out in the pasture if needed (aka bumpy, uneven, sometimes muddy ground). And it's 21 years old. They chose the weakest - but still decently performing - Ford truck possible and put it up against a truck that's supposed to be amazing and beat out all competition. And Ford's weakest full sized truck still did better in some areas than the shit cybertruck.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[carbt1]

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[keepthedelta]

thinking about the rosberg family and how a kardashian or dts style documentary about them would be amazing.

you have keke rosberg, a hard racing cigar smoking legend of motorsport from one of it's most dangerous eras, whose name literally means pixie rose mountain. the man who basically invented formula one in finland but was hated by his own media for being too cosmopolitan and when they tried to recognise his achievements refused to let them put his face on a postage stamp because he wouldn't make money off of it. studied to be a dentist but missed the entrance exam and became a racing driver instead. got out of having to take german in school by persuading the master that he would never need it but as soon as he met a hot older german woman went so insane over her that he proposed just months after meeting her and agreed to make it their primary language at home. set a record for the fastest lap in f1 history that lasted until 2004, won his first f1 race and then won a world championship before he won his second. known as a crazy racer who would go through you if you didn't let him past. also the softest dad who loves his baby boy more than anything else.

then there's sina, the coolest person in the rosberg family. was so hot and smart and talented that a man willingly sacrificed his cultural identity to be her husband. professional interpreter who knows a bunch of languages and taught them to her polyglot son. married a f1 world champion but hated his driving so much that she drove herself everywhere, even to events that she attended with him. showed up finland's independence day ball in a suit and bow tie against all dress customs. planned to give birth on her own because it's basically the same thing as going to the dentist, and she doesn't need a man for that. has an f1 champion husband and son and still banned f1 talk in her house for nico's entire career. got so nervous watching her baby race that she vacuumed the entire apartment each time. ditched her husband in dubai so that she could make it to the track to see nico become world champion in person. got drunk and talked about keke's sperm on live television.

nico rosberg, the saddest wettest kitten who ever lived. the most beloved baby in the world. cried at everything as a child. cried when he lost at tennis and when he won. uber competitive. incredibly athletic, competing internationally in karting and tennis. total nerd who had no trouble with his schoolwork despite missing school constantly and got accepted into imperial college london to study engineering. at the time the youngest person to ever drive an f1 car. the biggest single cause of sexuality crises in motorsport since 2006. was once sponsored by the german version of mtv. nicknamed after a teen pop sensation. met the love of his life when he was four and hit her over the head with a bucket while they were making sandcastles. had an incredibly difficult incredibly public divorce from a man he was never legally married to. dropped the mic said thank u, next and is so so happy in his retirement. has stripped down to his underwear on television and done a river clean up in designer coats. boy mom to an orange cat, girl dad to human children. loves his daughters more than anything, the kind of man who will leave a 2 million dollar car on a hill to hitchhike, with his videographer, to his daughters's christmas party. can pinpoint the amount of time lost in a corner exactly and needs everyone to know about it. deeply annoying, absolutely hilarious, incredibly kind.

and of course, vivian. ceo of the rosberg family. still planning the long game revenge on nico for hitting her with a bucket when they were children, born in germany, studied design in milan, can party harder than f1 drivers. has done the interior design for private jets, because apparently that's a thing. owner, creator and namesake of the best rated ice cream shop in the balearics. makes her daughters matching outfits for a taylor swift concert and publicly teases her husband for not being a fan. stages elaborate christmas photos with a different colour theme every year. wore a white dress with turquoise louboutins and chanel bag to match nico's race suit in one of the most iconic and yet deeply underappreciated wag moments in f1 history. ruined them with champagne but didn't care. wants her children to be happy. definitely pegs her husband.

most interesting motorsport family of all time. forget dts, i just want to know about them

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - The Almost Kiss

Requested: yes

Prompt: Lando is out for the season and catches feeling for his replacement

Warnings: nope

Y/n jolted awake to the buzzing of her phone on the bedside table, the sound pulling her out of a deep sleep. Her hand fumbled for it, and when she finally answered, the grogginess was replaced with confusion. "Hello, Y/n." She mumbled. "Y/n, it’s Andrea. You need to come to the McLaren factory. Immediately." Her heart raced. She wasn’t used to getting calls this early in the morning. What could possibly be happening? Y/n was a reserve driver, sure, but there hadn’t been any news of anything happening to the main drivers. "Yeah, I'll get dressed and be in soon."

Half-dressed, still trying to wake up fully, she rushed to the factory, nerves on edge. By the time she arrived, her mind was racing with possibilities. When she stepped inside, the atmosphere felt tense, and she spotted Zak waiting for her. "Y/n." Zak started as soon as she was within earshot. "What's happening?" Y/n asked as Zak put his arm around her to lead her up towards the meeting rooms. "Lando’s out. He’s had an accident, nothing too serious, but enough to sideline him for the rest of the season." Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, how's that happened?" Zak rubbed his forehead. "He was out last night, partying because of his first win, took a fall, broke his tibia. We’ve had it confirmed that he won’t be able to drive for the rest of the season."

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest. This was it, this was her chance. But the weight of the situation also sank in. Lando was injured, and she was being thrown into one of the biggest opportunities of her career. "We need you to step up." Zak continued, his voice firm but encouraging. "You’ll be taking Lando’s place. Effective immediately." She nodded, adrenaline pumping. This was what she had trained for, but the circumstances made it feel surreal. She was going to be one of McLaren’s main drivers.

The next few days were a whirlwind. Hours in the simulator, endless debriefs, and preparing for her first race as the primary driver. Every evening, Y/n found herself staying late, pushing herself in the simulator, wanting to prove she was ready for the challenge.

One evening, as she was deeply immersed in the simulation, the door to the room creaked open. She glanced up to see Lando standing there in a set of crutches, but a smile on his face. "Aren't you meant to be in a wheelchair for a while?" Y/n asked. "Yeah, but I like walking around on my one leg." He replied. "So you're a cripple then?" Lando laughed as he hobbled over towards the side of the simulator. "Need some help?" He asked casually. Y/n blinked, surprised. "You sure? I know you have to go to rehabilitation training and physio and-" Lando chuckled. "Yeah, well, I’ve got time. And besides, I figured I could help coach you a bit. You know, since I’ve been around for a while." Y/n smiled gratefully. "I’d appreciate that."

For the next few hours, Lando stood in the race engineer box of the simulator, giving tips and feedback, helping her adjust to the intricacies of McLaren’s car. His advice was invaluable, but more than that, it was nice to have him there calm, supportive, and surprisingly humble.

As the weeks passed, they grew closer. Between races and simulator sessions, they began to spend more time together. It started with casual meals in the motorhome, sharing laughs about life on the circuit, and then evenings spent debriefing together. The more time they spent with each other, the more their friendship deepened, and Y/n couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to be around him. It wasn’t long before she found herself in Monaco with him, where he had invited her to move into his place, just to make things easier between races. What had started as a practical arrangement became something much more meaningful. They would cook together, joke around, and occasionally sit in comfortable silence, watching the sunset over the harbor.

One of the first mornings she had spent in her bew apartment, Y/n had barely stirred from her peaceful slumber when a knock echoed through her apartment. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The world outside was only starting to light up as the sun rose over the principality through her blinds. She glanced at her phone. 7:00 AM? Who could that be? Reluctantly, she slid out of bed, tugging a hoodie over her sleep shirt as she padded barefoot toward the door. The knock came again, more insistent this time.

"I'm coming, hold on." She mumbled under her breath, unlocking the door and swinging it open. To her surprise, standing on the other side of the threshold was none other than Lando, looking fresh despite the ungodly hour. He offered her a crooked grin, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. "Lando?" She asked in disbelief, her voice still thick with sleep. "How on earth did you get up here?" He gave a nonchalant shrug, his boyish grin widening. "The lift."

"Obviously." She deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe with a raised eyebrow. "But why? And why are you knocking on my door at-" She glanced at her phone again. "7 AM?" Lando shifted on his feet, looking almost sheepish for a moment. "I have a rehab session and I really don't want to go alone. Thought maybe you'd want to tag along?" His eyes met hers with a hopeful glint. Y/n blinked, processing his request. "You came all the way here just to ask me to go to rehab with you?"

"Well, yeah. Plus, I needed a ride." His grin turned cheeky, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes, though the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "Lando, you have a whole team of people at your disposal. You could’ve called one of them."

"Yeah, but they're not you." He said with a smirk, and something in his casual tone made her heart skip a beat. "So, you coming or what?" He asked. "What's in it for me?" She challenged, letting him in. "A stop at the cafe du Paris if you get me to physio on time." Y/n sighed, shaking her head in amused disbelief. "Alright, alright. Let me get changed. Give me five minutes." Lando slumped down onto her sofa. "You're the best."

She quickly disappeared back into her room, rifling through her drawers for something more appropriate than her pajamas. As she threw on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, she couldn't help but smile to herself. Lando showing up out of the blue like this wasn’t exactly unusual—it was one of the things she liked about their friendship. He was spontaneous, always keeping her on her toes. Within minutes, Y/n was ready, grabbing her keys and slipping on a pair of sneakers as she met Lando by the door. He was already scrolling through his phone, humming under his breath.

"Let's go." She said, as Lando turned and hobled out the door. "Jesus, mate. You need to get out of these crutches, it's scaring away all the women." She joked. "Chick's dig this." Labdo replied. "I must be immune, Norris." They headed down the hallway and into the lift, Lando still chatting away about his recent races and how his shoulder injury was making training a nightmare. Y/n listened with a fond smile, appreciating how comfortable their conversations always were. It didn’t matter that it was now half 7 in the morning, and she hadn’t had her coffee yet; being around him always had a way of brightening her day. Once they reached the car, she slid into the driver’s seat, glancing over at him. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"Of course." Lando said, buckling in. "It's just rehab. But I appreciate you coming with me." Y/n nodded as she started the engine, pulling out of the parking garage. The early morning streets were quiet, making the drive peaceful. The two of them fell into easy conversation, and before she knew it, they were pulling up to his physios home. Lando turned to her as they parked. "Thanks for this, really. You didn’t have to."

"I know." She replied with a soft smile. "That's what makes me so nice." He returned her smile, lingering for a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt and stepping out of the car. "Oh, the bestest ever." He replied mockingly.

The teasing,the coffees, it was all just part of this great friendship they had going on. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a growing tension. Unspoken feelings hung in the air between them, but neither dared to address it.

One race weekend, however, everything changed. Y/n had been hit with a penalty that she fiercely believed was unjust. After a heated argument with the stewards, she was slapped with a fine, and her frustration boiled over. Storming out of the stewards’ room, she avoided everyone, ignoring the calls from the press. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, let alone deal with interviews. She locked herself in her driver room, letting the anger simmer as she paced the small space. A knock came at the door.

"I'm not doing press today guys!" She shouted, her voice still edged with anger. There was a pause, and then a familiar voice replied. "It’s me." Her heart skipped a beat. It was Lando. Hesitant, she walked over and unlocked the door. He stepped inside, his expression soft, understanding. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly, closing the door behind him. Y/n huffed, her hands running through her hair. "I just… I can’t believe this. That penalty wasn’t fair, and now I have to deal with a fine on top of it." Lando watched her for a moment, then stepped closer. "I get it. I’ve been there before. But you need to calm down, or it’ll just eat at you."

Y/n turned to him, her frustration still evident, but his presence was oddly comforting. There was a silence between them as they stood close, neither knowing what to say next. The tension from the room seemed to shift, no longer about the race or the penalty. They gazed at each other, the air between them thick with something unspoken. Slowly, they leaned in, the distance between them closing. But just before their lips could meet, there was another knock at the door. Y/n jerked back, startled. "Interviews, Y/n. You need to go." Came the voice from the other side of the door. Her heart racing, Y/n glanced at Lando, her mind spinning. Without another word, she bolted for the door, leaving Lando behind.

As she rushed to the media area, her thoughts were a whirlwind. Was Lando in love with her? Did she feel the same way? She couldn’t stop replaying that almost-kiss in her mind. Meanwhile, Lando stayed back in her room, wondering the exact same thing.

[dear-ao3]

could you tell me what the deal is with indycar?? i want to get into it so bad but need to be spoon fed info like a baby

alright well im not an expert. not by far. not even remotely. but enough people have asked so ill try to give you something. but please take this with a grain of salt. or perhaps even the whole shaker. i admit that this is likely not entirely correct.

first: what the fuck is indycar

another open wheel racing series, like f1 kinda, but based in the us and sometimes canada. and its definitely more off the walls than f1.

but first the differences. these are not all the differences. but they are some of the differences:

fueling: theyre allowed to refuel mid race, which f1 does not do anymore. this makes things kinda spicy.

tires: they only have two kinds of tires. primary and alternate. (or i think theyre also called black and red) and theyre made by Firestone. if you watch indycar you will hear this commercial about 5 million times over the course of the race. there is also the firestone hawk mascot.

the cars themselves: they go a lot faster than f1 cars. and theyre aparently a lot harder to drive according to a lot of the drivers, making it more physical for them than driving an f1 car. and they are also designed differently. f1 cars are designed to break upon impact to distribute the impact away from the driver. indycar cars are designed to...not do that. they largely stay together upon impact, which transfers the impact to the drivers and if a car does come apart its probably a really bad crash. most cars are pretty salvageable post crashes. (and they have far better safety protocols than f1 does, usually medical is at the scene literal seconds post crash in indycar)

the points: if you finish the race, you get points no matter what position youre in. but only if you finish.

the start: in f1 the cars line up on the grid and its a whole big ordeal of lights out and away we go. indycar is gentleman start your engines! and they start them down in the pitlane and then do like a lap and have a rolling start.

the teams and the drivers: each team can have 1-3 drivers. the drivers do not have specific numbers, rather its the cars themselves. so you wouldn't have a driver say that they are number 000, rather, they drive the number 000 car. so the teams maintain the same number cars year to year, not necessarily the same drivers. for this reason, qualifying is also a little different. in f1 if someone qualifies but then cant race for whatever reason, then no one else can race their car. in indycar, as long as the same car is doing qualifying and the race, a different driver could drive it in qualifying and the race it it was necessary. and the sponsorships differ depending on the car and the driver. so no two cars look the same, no matter whether or not they are on the same team and they often look different race to race because the sponsorships change all the time. its confusing.

the tracks: we have road courses (like your f1 looking tracks) and oval tracks (in the shape of ovals)

qualifying: now heres. this is the goofy part. so because theres 27-30 (?) cars at any given race they first divide the grid in half based on practice times. so theres group one and group two. and they both go and try to set the fastest lap time they can (a la f1). and then the top 6 people from group one and then the top 6 people from group 2 go again for the Fast Twelve (yes thats the real name). (everyone from 13 down is done with qualifying and theyre put in order based on their fastest lap time). then from the Fast Twelve the top 6 fastest go again for the Firestone Fast Six (again, real name) which battles it out for pole position.

but now for the fun stuff that you all want to get to.

because indycar, much like f1, has its very own cast of characters. and theyre somehow even slightly more bonkers than f1.

i dont know everyone, and i definitely dont know all the tea, but ive got Some, so if people really want to hear, ill try to explain a bit of this years indy 500

[w2soneshots]

could you write about being at school with harry as your mate/ friend thta you fancy? need something get me tgrough this shithole of a school🙏

Highschool sweethearts -W2S

words: 0.7k+

warnings: light angst, pining, making out.

summary: you and Harry both fell for each other, though nether of you wanted to admit it. One night, at a party on the beach, things change.

notes: I’ve never done a young Harry fic but I had so much fun writing this! Hope you’re okay lovely, you’ve got this!!🤗💞🌟

I watched as Harry walked towards me, a cheesy grin plastered on his face. "Hey, y/n?!" I tilted my head to the side. "Yeah?" I wondered what he wanted, I'd been avoiding him recently since I caught feelings and don't want to ruin our friendship.

"You going to the party tonight, at the beach?" He asked, leaning against the locker next to mine. "Uh- I dunno..." "oh come on! It'll be fun... please?" He stared at me, awaiting an answer. I thought for a second before nodding. "Okay, okay, I'll go." He swiftly pushed himself off of the locker. "Yes! Great! see you later."

My mind was whirling as I got ready, all of the possible outcomes of tonight running through my head. It's currently summer in Guernsey so it's pretty warm outside, though it'll get cooler once it gets dark, so I grabbed a jacket before I left.

As I walked to the beach I tried to calm myself down. I wasn't sure why I was getting so worked up over the boy I've been friends with since primary school but it was definitely becoming a problem. I couldn't be near him without going bright red if his arm grazed mine or he smiled at me. It was extremely annoying.

When I got there I spotted my friends. I walked over to them and sat down on one of the beach towels laid out. One of my friends nudged my arm. "Guess who's coming over?" She whispered into my ear with a teasing tone. I sighed. "For fuck sake... Harry," I muttered to myself.

"Hey! You made it." Harry plonked himself next to me, with a cheerful smile. "Mhm," I replied, dryly. "You okay?" He asked, brows furrowed. "Yes, I'm fine." I smiled, trying to reassure him. He didn't look convinced but thankfully he dropped it.

As it started to become dark some of the boys set up a fire that we all sat around. Harry left me alone after our previous encounter but I caught him staring multiple times. Some of my friends were now extremely drunk, I had decided at the start of the night that I wasn't going to drink and it seemed like Harry had done the same.

As it approached two in the morning people began heading home. I was dreading the dark walk back to my house. "y/n?" I heard my name so I turned. It was Harry once again. When he had my full attention he continued, "did you want me to give you a ride home?"

I thought for a moment. "Uh- yes please," I put on a smile. He smiled back, though his was genuine. "Come on then, let's go." He turned and we walked side by side to his car. I got into the passenger seat, buckled myself in and then he turned the engine on.

The drive was silent, the only noise being the wind coming in through the open window. I sighed softly, leaning my head against the side of the car and wrapping my jumper around myself. "You alright?" He asked. "Mhm, just tired."

When he pulled up in front of my house I turned to him. "What's going on with you?" He asked abruptly. I was slightly taken aback. "Uhm... what do you mean?" "You know what I mean. You've been avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?" He seemed to be annoyed.

I sighed, realising I was going to have to stop putting off telling him the reason. "Okay, okay," I took a deep breath, "I- I think I... fancy you Harry." I said quietly, not looking into his eyes. "You- wait, you fancy me?" An embarrassed grumble left my mouth as I leaned forward to put my head in my hands.

The car was completely silent for a good fifteen seconds, though it felt like an eternity. "This is so stupid." I swiftly looked over at him. "What?" "You fancy me, I fancy you and nether of us told the other." He explained. Surprise covered my face. "You fancy me?" "Of course I do you donut." He laughed slightly.

I smiled back before leaning towards him, our faces only centimetres apart. He leaned forward, closing the gap between our lips.

When I eventually pulled away I opened my eyes to see him chasing my lips. "I've got to go, I'll see you at school?" His face softened. "Yeah,  yeah, okay bye." I kissed him one last time before getting out. He waved, waiting until I got into my house safe then drove home with a bright and content smile on his face.

[reasonsforhope]

Note: Reasons to Be Cheerful has had weirdly huge formatting issues for the past six or so months, so if that version is a mess, this link should work better.

"Florida Power & Light Company (FPL), the Sunshine State’s largest power utility, employs all the people you might expect: electricians, lineworkers, mechanical engineers — and a few you might not. For over 40 years, the company has kept a team of wildlife biologists on staff. Their task? Monitoring the giant carnivorous reptiles that reside in one of the state’s nuclear power plants. 

Saving the American Crocodile

What sounds like a low-budget creature feature is actually a wildly successful conservation story. It goes like this: In 1975, the shy and reclusive American crocodile was facing extinction. Over-hunting and habitat decline caused by encroaching development had pushed its numbers to a record low. By 1975, when it was listed as endangered under the Endangered Species Act, there were only 200 to 300 left. 

Three years later, in 1978, workers at the Turkey Point nuclear power plant in Homestead, Florida happened upon something that must have made them gasp: a crocodile nest along one of the plant’s 5,900-acre “cooling canals.” Rather than drive the crocs away — perhaps the easiest solution — FPL hired a team of biologists and implemented a Crocodile Management Plan. Its goal was unconventional: provide a suitable habitat for the crocs within the workings of the nuclear power plant, allowing both to coexist.  

Over the course of the next 30 years, FPL’s wildlife biologists monitored nests, tagged hatchlings and generally created a hospitable environment for the reptiles. As it turned out, the plant’s cooling canals provided an ideal habitat: drained earth that never floods on which to lay eggs directly adjacent to water. Over the years, more and more crocs made the cooling canals home. By 1985, the nests at Turkey Point were responsible for 10 percent of American crocodile hatchlings in South Florida. In 2007, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service downgraded the American crocodile’s status from endangered to threatened, singling out FPL for its efforts. 

The program continues to this day. To date, biologists have tagged some 7,000 babies born at the plant. In 2021, there were a record-setting 565 crocodile hatchlings at the Turkey Point facility. 

"Reconciliation Ecology"

Turkey Point’s efforts are an example of what is known in the conservation world as “reconciliation ecology.” Rather than create separate areas where nature or animals can thrive in isolation from humans, reconciliation ecology suggests that we can blend the rich natural world with the world of human activity. Michael Rosenzweig, an emeritus professor of ecology and evolutionary biology at the University of Arizona, was a leading force in establishing this concept. The author of Win-Win Ecology: How the Earth’s Species can Survive in the Midst of Human Enterprise, Rosenzweig has pointed out that although human encroachment has typically been considered a threat to biodiversity, the notion that the world must be either “holy” or “profane,” ecologically speaking, is simply not true.  

“In addition to its primary value as a conservation tool, reconciliation ecology offers a valuable social byproduct,” writes Rosenzweig in his first chapter. “It promises to reduce the endless bickering and legal wrangling that characterize environmental issues today.”

-via Reasons to Be Cheerful, May 5, 2022. Article continues below. All headings added by me for added readability.

Dr. Madhusudan Katti, an associate professor in the Department of Forestry and Environmental Resources at North Carolina State University, was inspired by Rosenzweig when he did his postdoc at Arizona State. Katti has now been in the field of reconciliation ecology for two decades and teaches classes on the subject. “To me it’s finding solutions to reconciling human development with biodiversity conservation,” Katti says.

This common ground between development and conservation can be consciously planned, like FPL managing a crocodile habitat at a nuclear power plant or the state-sponsored vertical gardens and commercial farms on high-rise buildings in Singapore. Other examples include the restoration of the coral reef around an undersea restaurant in Eilat, Israel, or recent legislation in New York City requiring patterned glass on high-rise buildings, making windows more visible to migratory birds. Other planned examples of reconciliation ecology can be more individually scaled: a rooftop garden in an urban setting, modifying your garden to earn a “backyard bird habitat” certification from the Audubon Society, or even just mowing your lawn less often...

Reconciliation Ecology: Nature's Already Doing It Without Us

But there are countless examples of “accidental” incidents of reconciliation ecology, as well. One of Katti’s favorites is the kit fox of California’s San Joaquin Valley. “The kit fox was one of the very first species listed on the Endangered Species Act,” Katti says. Its decline was caused by habitat loss through agricultural and industrial development, as well as the extermination of the gray wolf population, which led to an increase in coyotes. So kit foxes adapted and moved to new habitats. One of these was the city of Bakersfield, California.

“Bakersfield, surrounded by oil pumps, would be the last place you’d expect to find an endangered species,” Katti says. But researchers think kit foxes have migrated to Bakersfield because they actually have more protection there from predators like coyotes and bobcats. “The kit foxes have figured out that if they can tolerate the human disturbance and live with people, then they are safer from all these other predators,” he says. 

Living in the city has led to some interesting behavioral changes. In the wild, for instance, a female kit fox gives birth to her young and raises them by herself in a den. But in the city, researchers have observed multiple females raising their litters together in the same den. “It’s like a form of cooperative breeding,” Katti says. “That wouldn’t happen in the wild.” ...

The Big Picture: How We Think about Conservation

Reconciliation Ecology isn’t just we humans welcoming animals like crocodiles and foxes into our environments, though. It’s also living with nature in a way that most Western societies haven’t done since the Enlightenment. “In recent years, there’s been a recognition that the ‘fortress conservation’ model — keeping nature separated from humans and not thinking of or valuing human-inhabited landscapes — those ideas are outdated,” says Katti.

In fact, in Katti’s classes on reconciliation ecology, he embraces the notion of reconnecting people with their land if they have been unjustly separated from it. “The term reconciliation also applies to all the colonial legacies where both nature and people have been harmed,” Katti says. “For Indigenous communities, the harm done to ecosystems, it’s happened together. So you can talk about addressing both. That’s where a lot of my thinking is at the moment.” 

A hopeful version of this sort of reconciliation is happening in California where colleagues of Katti’s who are tribal members are re-introducing “tribal burns” in some areas. Controlled burns have been a part of many Indigenous cultures for millenia, both as a way to prevent devastating forest fires, but also to encourage the growth of certain plants like hazel that are used for basket-weaving and other crafts. 

“The notion that people don’t belong there and ‘let nature take care of itself’ doesn’t really work,” Katti says. “That’s the legacy of Western European Enlightenment thinking — a divide between human and nature. That is a real faulty view of nature. People have been part of the ecosystem forever.”

-via Reasons to Be Cheerful, May 5, 2022

[ronqueesha]

A random 40k lore thread from me! Featuring another cool thing I like in the setting:

Space Hulks!

Rogue Trader mutuals kinda saw a few space hulks in the game. Technically, any ship that is adrift in the void, powerless and often without a living crew can be considered a space hulk. But the 40k galaxy is much cooler than that.

There have been SO MANY space empires, so many THOUSANDS OF YEARS of constant warfare and such gigantic fleets built by the Imperium and other species. These countless ships, wrecks and victims of horrific tragedy tend to clump together over the millennia. These amalgams grow and consume other, smaller wrecks into themselves like planets forming in a new solar system, taking in debris and smaller pieces into the larger whole. Some of them have grown so big that they are literally micro-planets in their own right, with gravity and light atmosphere.

To make things worse, many of them drift in and out of the warp seemingly at random. Whether it be through malfunctioning warp drives on the ancient vessels, the whim of the chaos gods, or something else.

The Imperium regularly tracks every space hulk it can find, and often sends in teams of space marine terminators and other brave souls to explore their depths. As I said before, some space hulks are as ancient as they are big, and sometimes contain traces of humanity's technological past. Or holy relics of the Imperium thought lost centuries ago. Exploring space hulks is dangerous to the extreme, and so it's often only space marines with the combat experience and weaponry to even survive such an expedition. Regular humans rarely stand a chance inside these things.

But it's not just the Imperium that likes to explore space hulks. One of the primary ways the Orks spread around the galaxy is hijacking these things and using them as mobile bases of operations. They don't care when or where it randomly appears in the warp, because it will eventually lead them to a good fight. Tyranids and their genestealer cults also famously ride on space hulks, waiting for an opportunity to come near a planet full of biomass for them to consume.

And of course, Chaos makes frequent use of space hulks as well. During the Horus Heresy, the Dark Mechanicum pulled a space hulk out of the warp, fitted it with engines and shields like a warship at an impossible scale, and used it against the Imperium. In the current era, some chaos space marine warbands use particular space hulks in much the same way the orks do.

[sw5w]

Oh, Dare It Is

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 00:48:47

[cherrari]

if i say idk what the turbo or crankshaft is will u laugh

don't worry i would never laugh at people asking questions because i rarely laugh in the first place

the current major components of the pu (and their allowable allocations per season) are:

the internal combustion engine (currently the v6) -> 4

the motor generator unit-kinetic (mgu-k) -> 4

the motor generator unit-heat (mgu-h) -> 4

the turbocharger (tc) -> 4

the energy store (es) (aka the battery) -> 2

the control electronics (ce) -> 2

the exhaust (ex) -> 8 per set

i will go through them one by one. i'm not going to list every single component connected to them because that would take way too long and honestly isn't necessary... i'm just listing the most relevant things, if you look up an actual f1 car there will be more going on than what i'm saying here.

the ice is the primary source of power. it turns fuel into kinetic energy. combustion engines are very common but can get quite complex, especially one that operates at such high efficiency like f1's... but the basic idea here is that it operates in a four-step cycle where air is taken in, compressed, mixed with fuel, then ignited. this creates a force which pushes a series of pistons, and finally this force travels through a few other components until it reaches the rear wheels to accelerate the car. the crankshaft is one of these; it takes the pressure from the pistons and uses it to drive a rotational force which is then used by the succeeding components.

the mgu-k is attached to the crankshaft and electronically to the es (battery). during braking, it harvests energy from the rear that would otherwise be released as heat to put into the battery. (it cannot harvest energy from the front) when accelerating, it can then redirect energy from either the battery or the mgu-h into the crankshaft to add extra torque. there is a strict limitation on how much power the mgu-k can contribute, but the 2026 regulations are increasing this massively (like 3x the amount). also the mgu-k is why f1 cars can self-start when stalled mid-race, as even if the engine is off it can still power the crankshaft so long as there is energy in the battery.

the turbocharger is attached to the ice's exhaust manifolds and is composed of a turbine and a compressor. the exhaust gas from the ice rotates the turbine which activates the compressor. the compressor compresses incoming air before it enters the engine for combustion, allowing for more air to be taken in overall. basically it makes the engine more efficient without it becoming too heavy or large.

the mgu-h is mechanically attached to the turbo's central shaft and electrically connected to the battery. it harvests otherwise unused heat from the exhaust gases and sends it to either the mgu-k or the battery. back in the old days before the mgu-h existed and turbos were far less efficient, drivers would need to sit on the throttle to keep the it running. nowadays the mgu-h is used for this, as it can use energy from the battery to control the turbo's speed, including when at low revs. the mgu-h is the component being ditched for 2026 and is the reason why the mgu-k's capacity is being beefed up (to compensate for its loss).

the energy store is the battery. energy harvested by the motors is stored here until deployment. the battery (and the ce) are comparatively small, flat, and very efficient because they need to rapidly charge and discharge energy according to the driver's inputs. when people refer to f1 pus as being hybrid, they're referring to the mixture of power from the ice and the electrical energy from the mgu units that is stored in the battery.

the control electronics that's being referred to here is what converts the energy from the motors into an energy format that can be stored in the battery and vice-versa. this is not the same as the ecu, which is a standardized controller for the electronics of the car (such as the braking system), despite the confusing names.

the exhausts are attached to the engine's exhaust ports. they are divided into sets, with three on either side of the engine and then a connection to the turbo.

as i said i didn't talk about every component that powers the car here because that would be effectively every single one... but let me know if you have any questions. i deleted like 1k words from this because i realised i was going off topic 😭

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Dodge HEMI Challenger

Once a Battered Movie Star, This 1970 Dodge HEMI Challenger Is Now a Museum-Grade Gem

What's your favorite movie car? Are you into Batmobiles, or do you prefer production vehicles like Steve McQueen's 1968 Ford Mustang from "Bullit?" How about an unassuming Mopar like the white 1970 Dodge Challenger used in "Vanishing Point?"

While not quite as famous as "Bullit," "Vanishing Point" is one of the greatest action films when it comes to car chases. The movie follows ex-policeman and race driver Kowalski delivering a muscle car cross-country to California with the police on his tail. Played by Barry Newman, Kowalski drives a white 1970 Dodge Challenger.

The studio borrowed five vehicles from Chrysler. Four Challengers had the big 440-cubic-inch (7.2-liter) RB under the hood, while the fifth car used a 383-cubic-inch (6.3-liter) big-block. Despite Kowalski talking about the delivery car being supercharged, all vehicles were stock save for suspension upgrades.

Even though it did not receive positive reviews upon its initial release in January 1971, "Vanishing Point" became a critical success in the UK and Europe. This prompted 20th Century Fox to re-release it in the US on a double bill with "The French Connection."

A cult following began to develop in the mid-1970s, and "Vanishing Point" eventually went on to inspire other films, including Quentin Tarantino's "Death Proof" and Edgar Wright's "Baby Driver."

In 1997, Fox released a remake of the film. It starred Viggo Mortensen as Kowalski and has a slightly different plot. Now a Gulf War veteran and former stock car racer, Kowalski is an automobile restorer and delivers high-performance cars to pay his wife's medical bills.

But while the story differs, Kowalski still drives a white 1970 Dodge Challenger. Moreover, Fox went with a HEMI version this time around. The rig you see here is Unit 1, the primary camera car and the vehicle that appears in most close-up shots and high-speed scenes. And yes, it's an authentic HEMI Challenger.

Like most movie cars, it became battered and worn at the end of filming, but it was given a complete restoration and used as a promotional car. Some 25 years have passed since, and the HEMI Challenger is now a museum-grade classic. And it's pretty rare, too.

What makes it scarce? Well, it's mostly the 426-cubic-inch (7.0-liter) HEMI engine. While Dodge sold almost 77,000 Challengers in 1970, only 356 of them left the assembly line with the range-topping mill. The run included nine convertible and 60 R/T SE examples, making this R/T hardtop one of only 287 units sold that year. It's also a four-speed manual car, which narrows it down to one of 137 built.

The HEMI Challenger was recently spotted at Holley MoParty in Bowling Green, Kentucky, and you can take a closer look at its perfect body and super-clean engine bay through the video below.

[lune-moon-nuit]

Does our future depend on technology?

Since the Industrial Revolution, technology has established itself as a major driver of human progress, profoundly transforming our lifestyles, knowledge, and relationship to the world. From medical breakthroughs to information technologies, through automation, technology seems to guide the major directions of our future. But can we truly say that our future depends on technology? Does this mean that technology determines our destiny, as an unavoidable, even uncontrollable force? Or should we understand that, while humanity's future is shaped by technology, it still relies on other dimensions — ethical, political, spiritual — that technology cannot encompass?

Thus, we shall ask: Is technology the necessary and sufficient condition for our future, or is it merely one means among others, subordinate to more fundamental human choices?

We will first examine how technology appears to be the primary engine of human evolution and thus of our future. Then, we will show that it does not necessarily guarantee a desirable future and that it cannot by itself guide humanity. Finally, we will argue that if our future does depend on technology, it is insofar as we choose how to use it — which brings us back to our ethical and political responsibility.

I. Technology as the decisive engine of human development

Technology, understood as the set of means invented by humans to transform their environment, is one of the fundamental traits of humanity. Since prehistoric times, the use of tools has distinguished Homo habilis from its ancestors: technology appears as consubstantial to our species, as Henri Bergson points out in Creative Evolution: “Man is the being who makes tools.”

Since then, every technological advance has marked a major turning point in history: writing, printing, the steam engine, electricity, the Internet… all these inventions have radically changed our societies, our modes of production, communication, and thought. Today, innovations in artificial intelligence, biotechnology, robotics, or energy heavily shape economic models, public policies, and ecological prospects for tomorrow.

In this sense, the future seems to depend on our ability to invent new technologies, to respond with technical means to the challenges of our time: climate crisis, pandemics, aging populations, resource scarcity. From a deterministic perspective, technology appears not only as a driving force but as a condition for humanity’s survival. This is what Heidegger discusses in The Question Concerning Technology, when he asserts that modern technology is no longer merely a tool, but a “challenging” of nature — a way of extracting all its available resources. It shapes our worldview, and therefore, our future.

II. But a future governed solely by technology is dangerous and illusory

However, to consider that our future depends exclusively on technology is to forget that it does not think for itself. It is a means, not an end. It is at the service of human intentions — for better or for worse. History abounds in examples of technology being used for destructive purposes: nuclear weapons, mass surveillance, uncontrolled genetic manipulation. As Hans Jonas warns, technological progress does not necessarily imply moral progress.

Technology can therefore both serve the future and harm it, depending on how it is used. It is a power that is fundamentally ambivalent. The atomic bomb and radiation therapy both use nuclear energy, but their aims are radically different. Far from automatically ensuring a better future, technology raises fundamental ethical questions: how far should we go in manipulating life? Are we still free in a world dominated by algorithms? Who truly benefits from technological innovation?

Consequently, reducing the future to a technical dependency would be to deny humanity’s capacity to choose, to exercise free will. It would mean abandoning our future to a logic of efficiency and profitability that ignores essential values such as justice, freedom, or human dignity.

III. Our future depends on technology, insofar as we remain its masters

Rather than viewing technology as a fatality, we must acknowledge that our future depends on how we design, regulate, and direct it. Humans remain the originators of technology: it is the fruit of our inventive mind, but also of our collective choices. In this sense, our future depends on technology only insofar as we integrate it within a broader political, philosophical, and ethical vision.

Hannah Arendt, in The Human Condition, emphasizes the distinction between labor, work, and action. While technology belongs to the domain of “work” — that is, fabrication — “action” involves freedom and responsibility. It is through political action, democratic debate, education, and critical reflection that humanity can direct the use of technology toward a desirable future.

Moreover, some of the most crucial questions for our future — such as the meaning of life, social justice, the relationship to others or to nature — cannot be answered by technology. These questions concern our deepest humanity. Technology can offer solutions to problems, but it does not define what a good life is, what a just world is, or what a harmonious society looks like. These concerns belong to philosophy, culture, and ethics.

Therefore, our future does not depend on technology per se, but on our ability to inscribe it within a vision of the world that is both humane and responsible.

Conclusion

It would be unrealistic to deny that technology plays a fundamental role in shaping our future: it transforms our ways of living, addresses major challenges, and opens unprecedented possibilities. But it is not neutral, nor self-sufficient. The future cannot rely solely on a means, without reflection on the ends.

Thus, our future does depend on technology, not as a fatality, but as a choice — the choice to use it for the common good, in accordance with human values. The real question is not whether technology will shape our future, but whether we will be able to shape technology toward a truly human future.

[chambersandfogg]

June 2nd, 1935

Los Angeles is a remarkable city, and one that continues to surprise me. New York is always on the cutting edge and the Exhibition in Chicago certainly had its marvels but every time I come back to the City of Angels after traveling, I feel I am stepping into the future. Everyone here seems to be living in the age of tomorrow, and I will confess to having trouble keeping up from time to time. 

Just the other night, I was at dinner with a jovial group of acquaintances and the conversation turned to the subject of science. And one gentleman (I’m embarrassed to admit I’ve now forgotten his last name, his first being easy to remember given it is my own) began to speak of “rocket science”. Apparently, there are people who not only believe it possible, but are actively working on building a path to the stars. Imagine! A rocket going into the heavens, away from this world, entirely away. 

I suppose I shouldn’t be too shocked by the concept. After all, I grew up taking a horse and carriage everywhere, and now I own and drive myself in an automobile. Why, I even met a fellow the other month who has actually flown in an airplane. For leisure! This commercial flight business is really kicking up these days. I know it is probably only a matter of time until I make the cross-country journey through the air, but at the moment it feels hard to fathom. 

And all these, things that I would’ve witnessed in the course of one mortal life. What wonders will I see in the life I’ve been given?

I should write to Charles and ask him about this so-called rocket science. It seems so much like fiction to me, but perhaps its more feasible than I think. I know chemistry is an entirely different beast from whatever kind of engineering this is, but he may have insight. Then again, he was never one for frivolity and he may consider the mere idea of rocket ships to be such. 

Still, it’s probably worth a letter. Unbelievably, I think it’s been a two full weeks since we last exchanged letters—the telephone really is a remarkable invention and I do so love to hear his voice, but I’m still not quite accustomed to that form of communication as a primary mode of staying in touch. Perhaps that will change as the years and technology march on but, for now, I far prefer the written word.  

[from the personal diary of J.S. Fogg]

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[twopoppies]

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sorry, but why is it assumed that she was the bad one or something like that? I remember it was his merch she was always wearing.

In that case, it was probably his team who wanted to sell and push the relationship and made her wear the merch among other things. And how do you know it was her team that were talking to the tabloids? Maybe it was his team. Remember the Asoffs are the most powerful people on the industry.

She was trying to keep a low profile.

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

She was trying to keep a low profile.

I'm going to take it you weren't here. She was the absolute epitome of taking advantage of the moment and having ZERO chill and trying to be noticed at literally every opportunity. She doesn't know the words "low profile." Give me a fucking break.

She was wearing his fucking merch every chance she got so she could pretend he gave it to her or she pulled it out of his closet. Come on. PR 101. I'm not wasting my time answering your questions because your tone ius obnoxious. Go look through my tags from day one. If you actually take the time to watch the progression of how fucking awful that nightmare was, you'll see she was the primary instigator.

Of course he was part of it. And of course the Azoffs had their fingers all over it. But she was the engine driving it and she had all the power in that situation. Harry was absolutely not in charge (that doesn't make him innocent, but wasn't making her do anything). The Azoffs might have pushed certain things, because I think they had money invested in the film. But she wanted the whole goddamn world. When have you ever seen a film where the director is the ONLY one doing promo, where the director is on the cover of Vogue, where the director is on late night chat shows, and literally all the actors want nothing to do with them? She was the captain of that shit show.

Go do a little reading and then come back to me and tell me how low profile she was: HOLIVIA

And for good measure: OLIVIA WILDE IS A NARCISSISTIC ASSHOLE.