When I purchased Kate Nashʼs album Made of Bricks from iTunes, it helpfully sanitized the filename of the song Dickhead so that my computer wouldnʼt be offended.
Then, sometime later, Appleʼs Music program — the successor to iTunes — upgraded the quality of the song, and at the same time kept the filename “Dickhead.” Iʼm sure my computer is clutching its digital pearls.
If Abraham Lincoln asks you to hold his hat, donʼt.
The sixteenth president was notorious for storing things in his famously capacious hat. But you never know what might be in there.
It makes sense that heʼd stuff it with a Lincoln logbook, or a few pencils, or even a draft of a speech to Congress. But if you were to rummage through his stovepipe chapeau you might not only encounter legal briefs, but Mr. Lincolnʼs actual briefs. Thatʼs because the hat was something of a catch-all for him. Half filing cabinet, half trash can.
Apple cores were a particularly common hazard, though why he should save apple cores is unknown to me.
Also unknown to me is why I know this. When I lived in Illinois, I never visited any Lincoln musea. When I lived in the South, I did visit the Abraham Lincoln Birthplace in Hodgenville, Kentucky. So perhaps I picked it up there. Or maybe I just imagined the whole thing.
One of the buildings near me that has a WeWork co-working space in it proudly bears the companyʼs slogan on the front door: “Do what you love.”
I wonder if that sort of thinking is the reason the world is filled with puppy sitters, yoga instructors, and food trucks; but has a shortage of doctors, garbage men, and homeless advocates.
Ever have one of those days when the I.T. department asks you for the password to one of its own machines?
And you have to tell the I.T. department that the super-duper high security password it assigned to a production machine is Password123?