I’m glad the portrait of Ben Franklin stayed the same on the new $100 bill. There’s something about his slight, tight frown, the paternal hint of disappointment in his eyes and those pursed, sealed lips that seem to say, “I don’t approve of what you’re doing, but I can’t stop you from rolling this banknote into a straw and ripping a fat rail of white lightning in the Buffalo Wild Wings handicapped bathroom stall, you goddamn beautiful disaster.”
This is my favorite post on this entire goddamn shitshow of a website lord bless
god bless gordan ramsey
Dude is only a dick to adults, awesome.
because, those adults should know what they’re doing, they’re cooks these are kids hes teaching to cook, therefore he is patient.
gordon ramsey is one of my favorite people in the whole world ok
The only reason he gets so angry is because the people he’s yelling at claim to know what they are doing and are charging people accordingly. If you listen to why he’s actually angry more than half the time you’d realize you’d be furious too. This man is beyond patient and kind toward people in normal circumstances, but he is really serious about his profession and what should be demanded of it. He’s one of my favorite people too
But have you seen “Hotel Hell” tho.
There was an elderly couple on there who lost EVERYTHING and he bought them a FREAKING APARTMENT.
The guy has a huge heart, no kidding.
Gordan Ramsey is my favourite person in the entire world
Sometimes he’ll tell me about his college days, about an Afghanistan I have never known and very few people would believe ever existed.
"In the College of Engineering, there was this lecture hall, with seats for 1,000 students," his says as eyes begin to get bigger. "At the end of the lecture, the seats would move. The whole auditorium would shift as you spun along the diameter. The engineering of the building itself was very interesting." He continues to describe the construction details, then sighs. "I wonder if it’s still around?"
There is a pause. For 25 years I have tried to fill that silence, but I have never quite figured out what to say. I guess silence goes best there. He is the next one to speak. “You see, even your old-aged father was once part of something important.”
When he says things like that I want to scream. I don’t want to believe that the years can beat away at you like that. I don’t want to know that if enough time passes, you begin to question what was real or who you are. I am unconcerned with what the world thinks of him, but it is devastating to know that he at times thinks less of himself.
We are the same, but we are separated. People don’t see him in me. I wish they would. I walk in with a doctor’s white coat or a suit or my Berkeley sweatshirt and jeans. High heels or sneakers, it doesn’t matter, people always seem impressed with me. “Pediatrician, eh?” they say. “Well, good for you.”
I wonder what people see when they look at him. They don’t see what I see in his smile. Perhaps they see a brown man with a thick accent; perhaps they think, another immigrant cabdriver. Or perhaps it is much worse: Maybe he is a profile-matched terrorist, aligned with some axis of evil. “Another Abd-ool f——-g foreigner,” I once heard someone say.
Sometimes the worst things are not what people say to your face or what they say at all, it is the things that are assumed. I am in line at the grocery store, studying at a cafe, on a plane flying somewhere.
"Her English is excellent; she must have grown up here," I hear a lady whisper. "But why on earth does she wear that thing on her head?"
"Oh, that’s not her fault," someone replies. "Her father probably forces her to wear that."
I am still searching for a quick, biting response to comments like that. The trouble is that things I’d like to say aren’t quick. So I say nothing. I want to take their hands and pull them home with me. Come, meet my father. Don’t look at the wrinkles; don’t look at the scars; don’t mind the hearing aid, or the thick accent. Don’t look at the world’s effect on him; look at his effect on the world. Come into my childhood and hear the lullabies, the warm hand on your shoulder on the worst of days, the silly jokes on mundane afternoons. Come meet the woman he has loved and respected his whole life; witness the confidence he has nurtured in his three daughters. Stay the night; hear his footsteps come in at midnight after a long day’s work. That sound in the middle of the night is his head bowing in prayer although he is exhausted. Granted, the wealth is gone and the legacy unknown, but look at what the bombs did not destroy. Now tell me, am I really oppressed? The question makes me want to laugh. Now tell me, is he really the oppressor? The question makes me want to cry.
At times, I want to throw it all away: the education, the opportunities, the potential. I want to slip into the passenger seat of his cab and say: This is who I am. If he is going to be labeled, then give me those labels too. If you are going to look down on him, than you might as well peer down on me as well. Close this gap. Erase this line. There is no differentiation here. Of all the things I am, of all the things I could ever be, I will never be prouder than to say that I am of him.
I am this cabdriver’s daughter.
WHY ARE NONE OF YOU FUCKERS FLIPPING SHIT?!?
NASA HAS DECLARED PLUTO A PLANET AGAIN
IT HAS MOONS!!!!! IT HAS MOONS!!!!!!!
WHAT. WHAT! PLUTO YOU FUCKING DID IT!
VIVA LA PLUTO, YOU DID IT!!!
I can’t find a source. Does anyone have any? I won’t believe it until I get a source.
VIVA LA PLUTO
Look, I honestly mean no offense, but this is fucking stupid. The ultimate nature of the Solar System has been billed down to a god damn popularity contest! There are numerous planet-like bodies orbiting the sun that are closer than Pluto, larger than Pluto, and, at least in my opinion, waaaayyy more interesting than Pluto, but they ain’t gonna become planets any time soon because nobody even knows about them!
Pluto is a shitty fucking ball of lame which has so much of its mass composed of ice that if it was like an AU closer it would become a comet, and I am experiencing legitimate nerd rage about it being called a planet again.