Only 35 of the 97 total passengers were killed in the Hindenburg Blimp disaster. This has really taken a toll on my love life.
&nbsp;
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Wow, I suppose it is pretty amazing that you have the same birthday as your dog. Oh, the craziest thing that&rsquo;s ever happened to me? Well, I was in the Hindenburg.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Whoa! Wasn&rsquo;t that the blimp that exploded in mid-air in 1937? Were you the only survivor?</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Well, no. Actually, 65% of us survived.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Oh&hellip; really? I thought everyone died. Are we talking about the same Hindenburg?</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">The blimp called the Hindenburg that blew up in the sky, shocking the world from its prior innocence? Yeah, I&rsquo;m pretty sure it&rsquo;s the same one.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Well, that&rsquo;s very nice but I need to go. My boyfriend&rsquo;s picking me up.</li>
</ul>
&nbsp;
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Near-death experience? Well actually, yeah, I&rsquo;ve got one. I was in the Hindenburg.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">I think the majority of people actually survived that.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">The blimp&hellip; exploded&hellip; in the air&hellip;&nbsp;</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">But your best near-death experience? Really? I mean, my husband survived the Hindenburg. So did I. Really, almost everyone did.</li>
</ul>
&nbsp;
<ul>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">You know, I was in the Hindenburg.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Really? Tell me more..</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Exploding blimp. Hydrogen gas. It was wild..</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">How about you tell me the rest of the story&hellip; at your place&hellip;</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">I also sleep in a blimp-shaped bed&hellip;</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">That&rsquo;s&hellip; so sexy&hellip;</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">My bed&hellip;they say it also has a 65% survival rate&hellip;&nbsp;</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">What?</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">I mean, I used to have three cats but I rolled over one of them in my sleep.</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">(Passing Young Boy:) I survived the Titanic!</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Wow, you&rsquo;re so much sexier than this creep over here&hellip;</li>
<li style="font-weight: 400;" aria-level="1">Damn you, young boy!</li>
</ul>

Only 35 of the 97 total passengers were killed in the Hindenburg Blimp disaster. This has really tak...

Hindenburg

Ever since I earned my online economics nanodegree, I&rsquo;ve been controlling my fourth-grade class using precise marginal incentive structures. It&rsquo;s working a little too well. They just earned their sixth pizza party of the month, so it&rsquo;s our fifth time watching Happy Feet 2 because it&rsquo;s the only disc I have other than Happy Feet 1 and we watched that on the first pizza party.&nbsp;&nbsp;
It started simply enough. Kids do their homework, I start grading it during lunch, I realize they&rsquo;ve earned another pizza party, I realize pizza party points are inflationary and we are rapidly approaching a pizza party economic crisis, I don&rsquo;t have time to think about this, I don&rsquo;t even have a pizza for today&rsquo;s pizza party, I steal the lunch pizza out of the cafeteria warmer and bring it into the classroom before the bell rings, Mrs. Thatcher&rsquo;s kids are hungry but my kids are only temporarily hungry, we have a pizza party at the start of class, and everyone is happy except for Gluten Free Josh who is never happy.&nbsp;
Things turned sour when the kids started collective bargaining after I raised the price of a pizza party. You know that thought experiment where you consider how many fourth graders you could take in a fight, and you realize it&rsquo;s more than 1 but less than 20, but actually any fight with a fourth-grader is a Class A offense on your already shaky record? I began to beg. &ldquo;A small amount of inflation is actually good for an economy,&rdquo; I pleaded to unsympathetic ears. &ldquo;A small amount of pizza party is good for tomorrow,&rdquo; they said ominously, before all skipping out of the classroom in unison. &ldquo;Deal,&rdquo; I said to an empty room because it made me feel strong.&nbsp;
On our final pizza party of the year, negotiations between me and the students finally cooled down. Now that pizza is a symbol of the working class, the cool kids don&rsquo;t like it any more. They&rsquo;ll only eat Gluten Free Josh&rsquo;s special tofu with spicy dip because its low supply indicates higher value. The principal came by to congratulate the class on getting perfect scores on the state&rsquo;s standardized test. Little does he know my kids&rsquo; biggest secret &mdash; they only work hard because doing so benefits their long-term expected earning potential.

Ever since I earned my online economics nanodegree, I’ve been controlling my fourth-grade class usin...

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