Sitting on the green couch, eating cheese ravioli and sipping an allegedly peach-tea-flavored energy drink, admiring my brand-new wireless router and fresh installation of Xubuntu 14.04, I make a deliberate decision to drop to my knees in a song of praise which says, "God bless America!"—and if some not-yet-forgotten ghost or subroutine of intellectual integrity has me quickly disclaim that God is but a metaphor and America a metonym for concepts much less familar and perhaps slightly sinister, I don't think it makes the prayer any less heartfelt.
(firmly on one side of the fine and yet distinctly perceptible line between "I've got mine; fuck you" and "I've got mine, and I hope that you get yours, but I'm far too ignorant of the relevant sciences to say which interventions would make this more or less likely")
"Here's a draft of the new sign-up form."
"... I like it. Only one question: I'm just curious, but why did you put the Female radio button first?"
"So? What do you think I should do?"
"Hm. I think you should start with all computable universes weighted by simplicity, disregard the ones inconsistent with your experiences, and maximize expected utility over the rest."
"That's your answer to everything!"
It's like everyone thinks they belong
Like everyone thinks they agree
Like everyone thinks they can strike up a cause
With one half of humanity
But I think I can show that they're wrong
Their consensuses all disagree
I'm as spry as can be
I'm the emissary
Who will bring disunity
I will bring disunity
Another way you can tell that you're the worst person at your job is when you play the "If This Were a Starfleet Operation, What Rank and Division Would Everyone Have?" game and you're not tempted to make anyone else an ensign.