the police department in our state capital was called because a skunk was wandering down main street with its head stuck in a yogurt cup
not wanting to risk getting sprayed, and unsure of how to remove a skunk from a yogurt cup anyway, the police googled “how to get a skunk’s head out of a yogurt cup”
Imagine how pissed you have to be to engrave a rock
Ok but there was this guy called Ea-nasir who was a total crook and would actually cheat people ought of good copper and sell them shit instead. The amount of correspondences complaining to and about this guy are HILARIOUS.
Are you telling me we know about a specific guy who lived 5000 years ago, by name, because he was a huge asshole
More like 4000 years ago but yes. Ea-nasir and his dodgy business deals.
And we haven’t even touched on the true hilarity of the situation yet. Consider two additional facts:
He wasn’t just into copper trading. There are letters complaining about Ea-nasir’s business practices with respect to everything from kitchenwares to real estate speculation to second-hand clothing. The guy was everywhere.
The majority of the surviving correspondences regarding Ea-nasir were recovered from one particular room in a building that is believed to have been Ea-nasir’s own house.
Like, these are clay tablets. They’re bulky, fragile, and difficult to store. They typically weren’t kept long-term unless they contained financial records or other vital information (which is why we have huge reams of financial data about ancient Babylon in spite of how little we know about the actual culture: most of the surviving tablets are commercial inventories, bills of sale, etc.).
But this guy, this Ea-nasir, he kept all of his angry letters – hundreds of them – and meticulously filed and preserved them in a dedicated room in his house. What kind of guy does that?
Okay, but imagine from the other guy’s point of view. You send angry letters about how Ea-nasir shipped you half a ton of subpar copper, and then 3800 years later—
I’m in my mid-twenties, and honestly get so much hate over being childfree that I’ve started telling people I have an adopted daughter when they ask about my kids. I just conveniently leave out the fact that my adopted daughter is, in fact, a 40-pound sheep, one of roughly two dozen that live in my back yard.
It isn’t even a lie, I raised that lamb on a bottle from the day she was born, as far as she’s concerned I’m her mom. And as long as I’m vague enough, the problems of dealing with sheep sound totally believable as human toddler parenting problems. “Oh yeah, my daughter’s two, she always puts everything in her mouth.” “Ugh, my daughter is always climbing on stuff, I swear she’s part mountain goat!”
I live for seeing how long I can keep it up before someone asks to see a picture of my little darling. “Sure!” I say, “Here she is! Isn’t she adorable?” then relish the horrified confusion when they see this tiny little brown sheep like:
It’s the best thing. It’s my favorite thing I’ve ever done, next to raising sheep in the first place.
Steel Phoenix Studios 