I was worried about Man of Steel. The most obscenely over-powered superhero of all time as presented by Zack Snyder, maker of the offensively awful Sucker Punch? I didn’t feel much better when the movie started on the MMO-inspired planet of Krypton, complete with flying dragons (or something). But I got a lot more comfortable back on Earth, where we meet a bearded Superman working on a fishing boat, and Snyder’s talent for creating beautiful, memorable images kicks in. Snyder has cited video games as an artistic influence, and that’s obvious on Krypton. Back in the more real world Snyder finds more restrained, but still striking moments that are sprinkled throughout the whole film.

There’s more sci-fi and more action than in a film like Iron Man 3, but the film doesn’t rush much. That’s partly to be expected: most of the Superman origin story is talking in the arctic and talking in cornfields. The film uses flashbacks to break up these long, potentially boring pieces of exposition though and also manages to keep Kansas and the Kent family present for most of the time. It’s not a revolutionary concept by any means, but it meant, for me, that something surprising kept reemerging: sincerity.

I kept thinking about Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster during the film. They’re the Cleveland, Ohio boys who began creating Superman while they were in high school in the 1930s. What they made is a superhero that should be pretty boring today: he can do everything. The movie reflects this: the fights are obscene and stretch from the Indian Ocean to Metropolis and into orbit. It’s pure excess like you’d expect. And when you look at Superman as an aspirational, Christlike figure it doesn’t help matters. It’s been done. The epic sacrifices in the film are practically endless and rather than building on one another they just start to feel old. Yes, Siegel and Schuster created something larger than life, but the aspirational character is Clark Kent, not Superman.

Every kid wishes he or she could fly, bend steel and shoot lasers out of his or her eyes. But what makes Superman special is not that he has those powers, it’s that he chooses the empathy and humility that the Kents teach him, and that he does the right thing even though it’s frequently the hardest thing. It’s his sincere affection for humanity that makes Lois Lane trust him. And it’s that personal sentiment that runs through the small sacrifices and changes of heart in the film that are affecting.

Toward the end of the movie there are big battles and explosions—but there’s also a flashback to Clark as a very young boy, playing with his dog in his parents’ Kansas yard. He wears a red cape, blue and white jeans and socks wave on a clothesline in the warm afternoon sun. It’s another of Snyder’s striking if heavy-handed images that glorifies Truth, Justice, and the American Way. But it’s not the American Way of globalism and capitalism—it’s the youth, innocence, and optimism of two high school boys who made an idol that does the right thing because it’s the right thing to do and elevates people around him because of that.

Frankly I didn’t think Snyder had it in him. I expected the movie to be more of the same old glossy, isolated, infallible alien who loves humans like pets. And while the movie is certainly not going to win any Oscars there’s a quiet earnestness under all of those spaceships and sonic booms. It doesn’t reinvent anything about the universe—he fights Zod, like we all knew he was going to fight Zod—but it rediscovers the smallness and the personal part of Superman that it’s easy to overlook 75 years later.

Yes there were nerds yelling across the theater at each other after the movie ended because they were dissatisfied with things. But most of the bland, generic action stuff fell away for me and what I left with was a new affection for Clark Kent that I’ve never felt before. I swear it only had a little bit to do with how much I like a beard on Henry Cavill.

- Lisa Olson

The post Zack Snyder Defies Expectations: “Man of Steel” Doesn’t Suck appeared first on The Tangential.

Opening shot: the Blue Settler (Russell Crowe) is standing at the edge of a wheat field, looking out over a barren plain. He crouches down to inspect the crop, and he’s pounced upon by a robber (Bobcat Goldthwait). They tussle, and eventually the robber escapes with a sheaf of grain. The Blue Settler balls his fists and screams at the sky in rage. The title appears: SETTLERS OF CATAN: THE MOVIE.

The Blue Settler returns to his settlement, where his advisors are in council. “We must build cities!” cries one advisor (Jeremy Irons). “Without cities, we shall be overcome!”

“No,” says the Blue Settler. “The prophecy tells that the Island of Catan shall be won by he who possesses the longest road. Our brick and lumber are plentiful, and we shall build west towards a port where we can make advantageous trades.”

As the meeting continues, the advisor slips quietly out of the tent and steals away with a sheaf of grain.

Cut to the compound of the Red Settler (Clive Owen), high on a mountain to the east. “Come,” he says when a knock is heard upon his door. The door creaks open, and in walks the Blue Settler’s advisor.

“I bring grain,” hisses the advisor.

“Very good,” replies the Red Settler. “For this grain, I shall trade you two ore.”

“Nay,” says the Blue Settler’s advisor. “I want no ore. Instead, I want your daughter’s hand!”

The Red Settler’s daughter (Emma Stone) recoils. “But,” she protests, “I will not bring you victory!”

“It’s not whether you win or lose,” cackles the advisor. “It’s how you play the game.”

“Never!” cries the Red Settler’s daughter. “I love another!”

Both the Red Settler and the Blue Settler’s advisor look on in shock as the Red Settler’s daughter leaps out of the window…only to land on the horse of a knight who gallops away into the darkness.

The next morning, the knight and maiden arrive at the compound of the Green Settler (Jon Hamm), who welcomes the Red Settler’s daughter into his arms. “I fear our bliss may not last long,” he warns. “I still have the largest…[pause for humor]…army, but my knights are exhausted, and the robber now stalks our fields, getting off with my sheep.”

[quick cut to shadowy scene involving panting robber and bleating sheep]

“We must make peace with the Blue Settler!” says the Red Settler’s daughter. “We must tell him that he has been betrayed by his trusted advisor!”

“So we shall,” affirms the Green Settler. “He is a good man, though he doesn’t have such vast…tracts of land.” [romantic music on soundtrack]

“Mmm,” murmurs the Red Settler’s daughter, looking significantly downward. “It looks like this is going to be my Year of Plenty.”

Cut to the next day, when two exhausted knights carry the Green Settler and the Red Settler’s daughter to the hut of the Blue Settler. “Greetings!” calls the Green Settler. “We bring news of your betrayal, and sheaves of grain.”

“I know of the betrayal,” says the Blue Settler wearily, “and I have no need of grain. What I have need of is brick.”

“But,” says the Red Settler’s daughter, “I was given to understand that you have brick in plenty.”

“Things,” intones the Blue Settler, “have changed.”

[quick cut to shot of robber cursing in field, flattened into ground by a load of brick on his back]

“I have brick for you, fool!” booms the Red Settler, suddenly appearing with a heavily-laden donkey. “But from you, I shall accept only grain.”

“I…” The Blue Settler pauses dramatically. “…have no choice. I must accept your offer.” He waves his arm towards his last sheaf of grain, and stumbles sadly over towards the donkey. “Come, boy.”

“And from you,” cries the Red Settler, pointing at the Green Settler, “I shall take my daughter! As well as all of your other resources, since with this grain I shall build a city that will make me the ruler of…what’s so funny?”

The Blue Settler’s advisor walks up, laughing wickedly. “I laugh,” he says, “because you mistook me for a traitor. In fact, I was only distracting you. We may have no cities or knights, but we have eight settlements, and with that brick my lord has gone off to complete our ninth segment of road. That gives us…”

A look of recognition, then a slow smile, appear on the face of the Green Settler. The Red Settler gasps in horror. “No!”

The Blue Settler’s advisor continues. “That’s right. We just built the longest road, bitch.”

Cut to the shore of Catan, where the Blue Settler, alone, lays the last brick connecting his kingdom to the sea. He grunts in satisfaction, then stands up smiling broadly. The music begins to soar, and it would seem the movie is over…but what’s this?

“Ahoy!”

The Blue Settler lifts his eyeglass to look out to sea. Cut to the view through his eyeglass, where a sea captain (Johnny Depp) waves, then turns and drops his trousers.

“I knew it!” The Blue Settler lowers his eyeglass and spits on the brick he’s just laid. “Seafarers!”

- Jay Gabler

The post Pitch for “Settlers of Catan: The Movie” appeared first on The Tangential.

1. Non-Linearity

Each episode of the this season of Arrested Development is a piece of a puzzle for a larger story that makes more and more sense the more of them you see. Is this an experiment that the writers undertook to take advantage of the unique platform that is Netflix, and the fact that people often mass-consume a show in one or a few sittings? Did Arrested Development do this on a smaller scale in former episodes – and is that one reason why it was canceled, as opposed to regular sitcoms that bottle up plotlines at the end of every episode?

2. Isolated Stories

This season had isolated stories, mostly because they couldn’t get all the actors together at once very often. Did you notice they’re only all together at the trial preparation/George Michael college sendoff party? (Me neither until my boyfriend pointed it out.) This doesn’t necessitate a non-linear plot, necessarily. Skins focuses on one character at a time, and the plot is still mostly linear, for example.

3. Is Michael not funny on his own?

The beginning of the season, which focused on Michael and George Michael, was arguably the worst part a) because you don’t understand the story yet b) because Michael isn’t that funny – and that’s ok. That’s not what he’s there for. Here is my theory: Michael is meant to be the foil for how crazy the other characters are, the normal person amidst the madness. That means he’s good for a few recurring jokes and funny disasters but for the most part Buster, GOB and Tobias are the funniest characters because they are the most insane. When Michael is somewhat separated from the family, he loses his chance to be the foil and his plot lines fall a bit more flat.

4. Lindsay’s Brows

Ok, so I’m late to the party and the Internet has already overanalyzed why Lindsay looks so weird. But my contribution to this is a theory centering on her brows. They are bleached half the time and dark the other half, and not in a way that always goes along with the plot. For a second I thought that Lindsay was possibly played by Portia De Rossi and someone who looked like a botoxed version of her, but I think this is due to inconsistent brow color. (As well as wigs and possible plastic surgery.) Either way, the plot seemed designed to keep an air of confusion around why Portia looks so different.

5. Who makes this show funny, the writers or the actors?

Since each one focused on just one character, they really ended up varying in terms of how funny they were, in my opinion. The Buster and GOB episodes were standouts, making me wonder just how much the actors had to do with it (especially in the case of the Buster episode). How much of what makes this show good is intentional writing and how much is improv acting? Is actor Tony Hale a genius?

6. Was it all just a preview for the movie?

The ending is the opposite of precious, and feels very unfinished, with a lot of questions left over. Was this one of the world’s smartest strategies for getting people excited about a movie? Did it work? Or have you gotten bored with the show?

-Becky Lang

The post Talking Points on the New Arrested Development appeared first on The Tangential.

Four Loko on Law & Order SVU is “Five Crazy” in case you were wondering

— Hazel Cills (@hazelcills) June 4, 2013

bellybuttons make me nauseous

— Alessandra Cat (@alessandradite) June 3, 2013

boys simply love promising to teach you guitar someday

— lauren mc (@laurenbutt) June 2, 2013

marriage should be like a presidency term after 4 years you should get to vote if you still want to be married

— Sarah Beattie (@nachosarah) June 2, 2013

RT if you are a sim and there is a feral horse stuck in your bathroom because of a glitch and now you cant get to the toilet

— XTine Friar (@christinefriar) May 31, 2013

Gin and Bear It

— The Frenemy Online (@The_Frenemy) May 31, 2013

“listen buddy i gotta sea level with you…” – a frank ocean

— crispin best (@crispinbest) May 31, 2013

I hope this Clif bar gives me the energy I need to check my phone a million times today.

— sammy rhodes (@prodigalsam) May 31, 2013

“You look sexy eating that burger” is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.

— Jessica Cabot (@jessicacabot) May 31, 2013

Every relationship in my life now needs to be defined as who’s the Liberace and who’s the Scott?

— Little Esther (@littleesther) May 28, 2013

every time someone starts a new lit mag, a fairy is murdered in cold blood

— LK(@LKShowbiz) May 27, 2013

- Compiled by @JayGabler

The post Best/Realest Tweets of the Fortnight, 5/26-6/8/13 appeared first on The Tangential.

Katie Sisneros and special guest Timothy Otte demonstrate how to make delicious cocktails with Prairie Organic Vodka—and also Karkov bottom-shelf vodka. Directed by Jay Gabler.

The post A.B. Dining: Summer Vodka Fun appeared first on The Tangential.

1. Harbor irrational fear 

While America marveled at the gravity-defying finesse of the parkour craze, I foresaw bone breaking against concrete and braced myself for shock footage of compound fractures. My instant cowering from dodge balls, volleyballs, and even ping-pong balls is not just human reflex.  That is because as a terrible athlete, you are not necessarily injury-prone. You are injury phobic.

As a terrible athlete you are able to imagine—in the split-second it takes to pitch a baseball—the crunch of bone and the taste of blood, the tragedy of paralysis, the shame of an irreparably broken and deformed nose. Another second later you find yourself, once again, crouching at first base with your arms shielding your upper body as though you are caught in an air raid. Soon follows the familiar, collective groan of your teammates. But you have no regrets. The sighs from your coach make no impact on you. You know what’s really at stake here, and walk shamelessly back to the dugout.

2. Lack (any) competitive edge

I, like all terrible athletes, lack a powerful force that guides “serious” athletes to victory. That is competitive edge.

Almost every card game I participate in ends with my opponent throwing cards on the table in exasperation because “you weren’t even trying to win” and “what’s the fun in that?!” To which I’ve always wondered: What exactly am I winning here? Is there some kind of meaningful recognition I’ll earn? A cash prize I’m unaware of? 

Similarly, my teammates in phys ed shrieked in frustration when I refused to “dive” for the volleyball. What will shattered elbows earn me exactly? I wanted to know. At 10 AM in a mandatory “class,” what could motivate me to willfully “dive” into a hardwood gymnasium floor?

The gift of competitive edge doesn’t need reasons. Like an animal instinct, it drives deeply rooted insecurities and need for control and VICTORY I’M A CHAMPION GODDAMMIT attitude to the forefront. With competitive edge, one can stand fearlessly in the way of fast moving objects, leap over hurdles arranged over a cement track and otherwise risk all injury for the sole pursuit of the big win.

As a non-competitive terrible athlete, you’ve known from a young age that calling yourself “a winner” is both trite and delusional. And that’s not because of low self-esteem. For you, victory is as meaningless as it is improbable. You simply see no tangible advantage in “winning.” Unless, of course, there’s a cash prize.

3. Be reluctant to explore the great outdoors

I cherish my outdoor time, when the weather isn’t hellishly humid or below freezing. I’ve lived all my life in the upper Midwest, where those comfortable weather days are seldom. But even if I lived in my ideal climate of moderate temperatures and constant overcast, I still wouldn’t want to run a 5k or go kayaking—though I’m almost always game to dine outdoors.

Mine is a personal preference, but as a terrible athlete your aversion to nature can be also be innate. Maybe you sunburn easily, or have debilitating seasonal allergies. Your asthma is severe, or your poor alignment prohibits you from walking uneven terrain. Or perhaps, as one junior high classmate thoughtfully noted to me on the tetherball court, you are simply “a natural born pussy.”

These are not weaknesses; they are blessings in a lifelong career of terrible athleticism.

4. Let your mind wander

I spent most of my time as goalie on my elementary soccer team sitting in front of the goal, squinting against the sun and picking at crab grass. Periodically my thoughts were interrupted by the distant shouting from our coach, who gestured furiously from the side lines for me to “get in the game!”

Bear in mind “get in the game” is synonymous with “get your head in the game.” If you are more interested in blowing on dandelion puffs, cloud formations, or your cuticles, you have great potential to be a terrible athlete. In fact, you are half way there.

Poor focus and total ambivalence are your keys to success. Because it’s not always about winning, it’s about trying your best and having fun. And that requires giving an ounce of a shit, and not just “participating” for the post-game juice boxes and Rice Krispie bars.

You are not a winner because you do not care, terrible athlete. But more importantly, you do not care that you will never be a winner.

- Katya Karaz

The post How to Suck at Sports appeared first on The Tangential.

If you just said that a movie “epitomizes the spirit of our era,” people are allowed to say you’re reading too much into it.

If you just pointed out that a movie’s minority characters are offensively stereotyped, do not allow people to tell you you’re reading too much into it.

If you just referenced a writer—especially Hemingway—people are going to tell you you’re going too far, and they may well be right.

If you just referenced a director, people should get the hell off your back.

If you said that from the standpoint of genetic biology, X-Men is impossible, people are allowed to roll their eyes at you.

If you said that the plot of a Vin Diesel movie makes no sense whatsoever, that’s fair. Even “dumb action movies” need to be coherent.

If you say you miss the days when the Rambo movies were social statements about the Vietnam War, that’s going a little far.

If you ask how Rambo managed to completely cover himself in mud without an invisible third arm, that’s totally fair.

If you say that a movie is sure to cause eating disorders, that’s ridiculous.

If you say that no actual human being could look like Megan Fox or Channing Tatum without an ironclad fitness regime, an expensive diet, good genes, and a makeup team, that’s true.

Most importantly: under no circumstances should you let someone tell you you’re not reading enough into a Miranda July movie.

- Jay Gabler

The post How to Know Whether You’re Overanalyzing a Movie appeared first on The Tangential.

Last night my girlfriend and I pulled Braveheart up as a kitschy couch-potato flick, and in that respect we were not disappointed. It didn’t seem like a film anyone would confuse with a good movie, and we attributed its Best Picture win to the Academy’s predictable taste for historical epics.

I was surprised, then, to later read the reviews and find that the film was immediately adored by critics—not just the famously unsnobbish Roger Ebert, but by the New York Times, whose writer Caryn James called it “one of the most spectacular entertainments in years.” Even The New Yorker‘s Anthony Lane, as fun to read as he is hard to please, gave the film a largely positive review that included complimentary comparisons to The Passion of Joan of Arc and Laurence Olivier’s Henry V.

Why has this film, acclaimed less than 20 years ago, aged so poorly?

1. It looks and sounds dated. There’s a certain fascination to watching historical epics from years past: despite attempts to evoke a distant era, they inevitably hint at the time of their creation. The best example of this in Braveheart is Mel Gibson’s hair, which seems to have been taken as authentically unruly (Lane, impressed: “Gibson has to speak with the right accent, wear a kilt, and scrupulously avoid anything than resembles a comb”) but now looks like a blow-out created by a celebrity stylist whose chair had been recently vacated by Michael Bolton. James Horner’s wheezy score also shows its age: there are the trembling flutes you’d find in any Scot-centric epic, but then there are also the Hearts of Space synths.

2. The gay subplot is offensive. With gay marriage becoming legal in states across the country, it’s hard to understand how policies like Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and the Defense of Marriage act could have been espoused by a Democratic president within the lifetime of today’s teens. In that sense, Braveheart is an illuminating time capsule. The prince of England is a simpering stereotype, incapable of leadership and impotent to impregnate his strategically-garnered French wife. For plot purposes he’s homosexual, but the tone of the film makes him asexual: a hapless eunuch. The offensive suggestion that being gay is akin to having no sexuality at all—no potency in any respect—earned Braveheart a statement of protest from the Gay Alliance, and yet passed notice by all three reviews I read. Ebert, in fact, seems to have missed that there even was a gay subplot, referring to the prince’s lover as “his best friend.”

3. Mel Gibson. In 1995, Braveheart was seen as evidence that Gibson’s flair for acting was matched by behind-the-lens savvy, a talent that had brilliantly matured. That didn’t last long. It took Gibson nine more years to direct another film, and that film was The Passion of the Christ. For anyone who’s seen—or even, really, just heard about—that latter movie, it’s impossible not to see Braveheart as an earlier, more palatable, product of a deeply disturbing set of fascinations. The masochistic martyr, the abuse of human bodies, the uncomplicated tie between ethnic origin and moral character. It’s understandable why Gibson, a man who likes to very explicitly remind us of the unspeakable agonies our forebears suffered for our sakes, would be interested in producing a Holocaust film—but given Gibson’s anti-Semitic inclinations (to put it charitably), it’s just as well that the director has kept his focus on the distant past.

1995 wasn’t all that long ago, but Braveheart makes the 20th century seem almost as distant as the 13th.

- Jay Gabler

The post Three Reasons Why “Braveheart” Seems Way Worse Today Than It Did In 1995 appeared first on The Tangential.

“Monogamic marriage, with divorce granted only for good and sufficient reasons and not because one or both of the parties directly concerned tire of the union and desire a change, is the sheet anchor of our civilization, and anyone who seeks to injure or destroy such time-honored and respected institution must be regarded and treated as a foe to civilization.” (p. 118)

“In the paragraphs we have quoted from Engels we have [...] the promise to those pulsating with sex love, who ever hunger after forbidden sex fruits, that along with the new economic conditions socialism will cause the fruition of their fondest sex hopes, and they will be permitted to satisfy their sexual cravings to satiety.” (pp. 31-32)

“Prostitution, that vile traffic in women, entailing, as it does, the prostitution of women’s noblest functions to the bases possible purposes, has never been glorified, even indirectly, in modern times, except by socialist or feminist writers.” (p. 36)

“Though denied again and again by the slick socialist apologists, the student of socialism can not help but come to the conclusion that community of property necessarily and logically involves community of women.” (p. 47)

“The long, rakish craft that plies the political seas, flying at its masthead the blood-red flag of riot and revolution, in like manner considers it necessary at times to appear as other than it really is. Its flag undergoes a transformation, appearing for the moment as the symbol of the brotherhood of men; the motley crew appears in other and more favorable guise; the assaults upon property by the syndicalist and I.W.W. corps, the sappers and miners of the socialist army, upon religion and morals, evolved in the countless centuries to their present stage, upon the most sacred and cherished institutions of men, the better to deceive the progressive elements of society and enlist the support of all who make war on the evils that menace society ceases for a time, again to be taken up when conditions become more favorable.” (p. 49)

“In [a] socialist age—to the men and some women afflicted with sexual lust—the man who conceives a momentary sexual passion for his neighbor’s daughter merely goes through the mummeries of a socialist mariage, or an agreement is entered into without being recorded by a socialist functionary, and the maid is his for as long or short a period as he may desire. When he tires of her charms, when the other party to the contract ceases to please, when, perchance, broken on the matrimonial wheel, she loses that which made the man a willing captive in other days, or when his sex lust lights on another victim, the law affords him the means to dispense with his now irksome matrimonial burdens, to throw aside the old wife and take on the new, and to repeat—to him—such pleasant experience until he becomes thoroughly sated.” (p. 50)

“The peoples of Rome, Greece, Egypt, and of other of the ancient countries also fretted and chafed under the restraints upon their passions imposed by laws of church and state, and demanded and in some measure secured material modification of what to them were onerous laws. [...] Men and women were emancipated from conjugal ties, were in a measure freed from shackling bonds wisely ordained during the flood time of their nations’ careers, and physical and moral enervation and degeneration resulted.  [...] Men became more effeminate and women more masculine—that is, to the extent of acquiring the vices and not the virtues of the other sex.” (pp. 126-127)

“Those foolish women who ever hearken to the siren voices of the preachers of sex liberty, who would that men and women should have the widest range of sexual liberty, would do well to heed the fact that the laws of society they ever decry are made to protect women more than men—yes; even from themselves and the consequences of yielding to their unholy desires.” (p. 130)

“Women are radically different than men, not only in external appearance but temperamentally and psychically. Women’s mind runs in a different channel, her impulses are different, her affections take an entirely different turn from men. One of our philosophers asserted that ‘man has sex; woman is sex.’ We see the truth of this assertion on every side, else we hopelessly are blind.” (p. 131)

- Compiled by Jay Gabler

The post Insights from “The Red War on the Family” (1922) appeared first on The Tangential.

This is a sliding scale depending on how much your car is worth.

$50,000+: Ok, your car alarm can go off for awhile. I get it. Your car is worth 2x the national average student loan debt ($24,000). Your burglar could send two of his burgling kids to college on what he might make selling your car off. Let’s let that beep until it’s rightful owner can save it. (Unless it’s more than half-an-hour, then fuck you).

$26,000+: Your car seems pretty new, like you probably saved up your money to buy it over the course of 3 Christmas bonuses. You deserve at least 25 minutes of your neighbors’ kind patience with that alarm should any mean car thief happen to touch it (or any random person deign to put their Chinese takeout on top of it for a minute).

$15,000: Ok, I get why you have a car alarm. You’d be screwed if your car got stolen. Wouldn’t we all. But can’t you program your car to just send you a text message somehow? It’s not quite beautiful enough for us to deal with an alarm that goes off endlessly.

$5,000: Why can’t car alarms just be programmed to go off after 2 minutes? Isn’t that enough time to scare away any car burglar? Sitting next to a beeping car, rubbing your hands together is embarrassing enough to make anyone skedaddle after 2 minutes, right? Why does it have to go off indefinitely? After 4 minutes, 3 of your neighbors have woken up from what was probably a really nice dream. After 9, someone’s latent mental illness has been triggered. Is your car worth ruining someone’s mental health? No.

Generally, if your car alarm goes off for more than half an hour, YOU are the real plague on society.

-Becky Lang was just woken up by a car alarm

The post How Long Your Car Alarm is Allowed to Go Off Before You Are Morally Worse than a Car Burglar appeared first on The Tangential.