GORDON RAMSAY: Alright, mate. I’ll forgive the cockup with the soup course, but I want that caprese salad, and if there’s any more forbidden knowledge of the future in it I’m going to need words with the chef de cuisine ME: Absolutely, chef. We have your caprese salad coming out now *additional member of waitstaff brings out a dish on one hand, and lifts the cloche to reveal basil leaves, fresh mozzarella, and slices of San Marzano tomato artfully arranged to spell out “MARCH 15, 2048 - AUTO ACCIDENT”* GORDON RAMSAY: Hold on a moment. Is that when and how I die? ME: I don’t know, chef. It seems at odds with the concept of free will that knowing such a thing would even be possible GORDON RAMSAY: Not even through the antipasti and I’m already being asked to subscribe to a non-deterministic universe. Fuck me
ending an argument by typing “youtube.com/watch?v=” then keymashing & hitting enter & having it miraculously link an inexplicable video of the person you’re arguing with in the beam of a flashlight wading through waist high garbage in a dark cramped stone tunnel whimpering & speaking in gibberish
