How To Avoid Getting Proofed

If you are under 21, how do you go to a place and order a beer without getting proofed? This was something I figured out a long time ago. A facebook post from A.B. Dada reminded me of this story.

I have no idea why a google search for “how to avoid getting proofed” doesn’t provide any useful suggestions.

I would have thought there would be entire forums dedicated to this topic.

If this story helps you out in any way, please consider making a small contribution to my well-being so that I may continue to think up loopholes like this.

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Pre-Internet: How Did People Make Nasty Comments?

It used to take some genuine effort to say nasty stuff to someone.

If they pissed you off, you had to contemplate it, get a pen and paper, write out your thoughts, fold it up, put it in an envelope, bring it to the Post Office, wait on a line to mail it, and then wait the 3 to 10 days for the Post Office to deliver it to the recipient.

Of course, this type of long drawn-out process also led to a lot of rubbing hands together and cackling with maniacal laughter.

Now it’s trivial to just leave a comment on their blog or on their facebook wall. That’s progress!
Just wanted you to know, me and my friends with nearly the whole school, HATE you.

Letter to the Rolling Stones in 1966 via:


I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

I stumbled across this site quite accidentally. It’s about an experiment with cute little robots that are fairly helpless and seeing what happened when they relied on the kindness of strangers to get where they were supposed to go.

The creator of the experiment made the robots as cheaply as possible — expecting them to meet their doom in the cruel, cruel world — but was pleased to find that even in New York city there were strangers who were willing to help a little defenseless robot.

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Reality, What A Concept…

Something to think about:

I think this took place in my apartment back when I was in college:

I was doing something like throwing a ball out the door of my room so that it bounced around and wound up bouncing down the stairwell. Some sort of thing that I could tell what the ball was doing by the sounds of what it was bouncing against.

After spending so much time studying physics, it was pretty amazing to me how the ball managed to figure out its own path without needing to solve any complex equations or even be visually observed by anyone. The ball, hallway, stairs, etc. all did their own parts without even needing a calculator (much less a supercomputer).

I said to my roomate, Jay, “Isn’t it amazing how reality interacts with itself?”

He replied, “It’s almost as if it has its own existence outside of our minds.”


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The following link is not for people: I do not like it, Sam I Am.