No. Because it has always been Denali National Park. It was the mountain’s name that changed, not the park’s.

They definitely jumped into the deep deep snow at the end of last season? I mean, you can’t really know how deep it was, but it seemed pretty deep and fluffy.

Yes, how dare they charge for providing a service they have spent years of their lives becoming experts in.

Edit: The numbers in this story really don’t add up. Must be more than one daughter. Piecing together her trail of “It happened to me”s across the internet is sure an interesting read though.

And this:

Missing and not given expansive attention aren’t the same. The article is a broad overview of a number of topics touched on in a particular book and their implications, not an in depth look at just that one aspect. Missing just seemed a bit misleading when you could have framed it as adding more information about…

You mean where the author says this:

No no. The real question is what is this cover of Shake it Off?

What the heck is the point of going all the way to Bermuda for beach glass if you’re just going to cover it up with wire and beads?

Shrimp forks. When my grandmother died I got her silverware set since I didn’t have any and was moving into my first apartment. It came with forks, dessert forks, teaspoons, tablespoon, knives, butter knives, and shrimp forks.

I have one too. I call it “Cheesy Mouse”. Although come to think of it, I mostly grate cheese with my box grater and then use Cheesy Mouse as a container to store the leftover bit.

I have the non-bird shared version of this and it does a wonderful job venting steam out of pies as they cook. Cutting a perfect slice of pie is a little harder with it in though.

Once I discovered that a dish I loved loved loved secretly had gluten in it (my bad - always ask about all the things even if you can’t imagine why there would be wheat in it). I had just taken a bite and everyone I was at dinner with and the waiter asked me if I wanted something else. I got something else, but what I…

I accidentally ate gluten bread three months ago, and now whenever I eat my gluten-free bread I am sad because I reminded myself what I was missing.

This is my theory. On the rare occasion that I realize I’ve just taken a bite of something with gluten the responsible reaction would be to stop eating it, but I just say, “Fuck it!” and go right on stuffing my face. I already ate it. It is already going to suck. I might as well enjoy whatever it is.

Edited to partially take that back - MTA had an app come out a few years ago where you could see where trains were along certain lines, but if I remember right it didn’t have an overall map, you had to pick by line not station, and it didn’t give directions.

I was vaguely listening to an NPR piece on the upcoming city council vote in New York a few days ago and several callers mentioned their frustration at the lack of a yellow cab hail app. If I could hail a yellow cab the way I can hail an Uber, I would absolutely do that.

Who are these people who want to eat meat flavored potato chips? And is there an island we can ship them all off to to live apart from those of us in civilized society?

We know you have rights, but if you exercise them we have to actually do some police work and that just can’t be how things are supposed to work.

You didn’t get drugs? I got drugs! My doctor wrote me a script for a muscle relaxant ahead of time and had me take it before my appointment. I think I love her more now, if that is possible.