Downstairs, he was informed. That is, down the escalators, where there is both a women’s room (often with a line) and a men’s room (almost never with a line). Or alternately, he could ask the station master to buzz him into the “family” bathroom. He opted to go downstairs.

In the midst of caresses, and without the least pretended incitement, to sputter out the basest and falsest accusations.

They [bankers] would do what has been done by the Bank of France—buy bullion at a premium, on the approach of danger, and keep peril at a safe and respectable distance. Any expenditure that might be incurred for that purpose would be small indeed when contrasted with the immense loss and suffering caused by the present system, and the continual fear in which the public now live of some new crisis—because it has been out of one and into another for a long period now; and that will be the case hereafter, until we have no interval to gather strength, and recruit for the next struggle with Mammon, or Moloch, or whatever other name of evil import belongs to the Tutelarity of Lombard-street and its precincts.

Many nerdcore anthems — “You Got Asperger’s” by MC Frontalot, “Fett’s Vette” by MC Chris, “View Source,” by Ytcracker (“Eagerly awaiting my macro advances/running with my beta cuz I’m taking chances”) — are as much efforts at comedy as they are attempts at sincere hip-hop.