(lol just kidding. what you're describing is almost as bad as unscrewing a security flathead screw. look it up. invented by Satan, with help from Brian Thompson)
Easiest, yes. And wheels are easier than repulserlifts. If sometime said "Ya know, greasing axels sucks balls. Let's invent something better", they probably developed something better than the shittiest screw head in the history of sentience.
You clearly haven't had to screw a flathead screw.
Anyone that's dicked around with those little bastards starts hating life after about thirty seconds. A fastener I can screw in a without having to be perfectly in line with the shaft? Yes please! I don't care if it's a shitty Phillips screw, sign me up. I'd even take those goofy square Canadian screws. Hell, anything is better than flathead.
I challenge you to find a screw worse to use than a flathead screw.
23 years ago I met a guy at work that was really cool. We became friends of a sort, in the way that a shy introvert considers friends. Every once in a while he'd invite me to hang out with his friends, which was always a good time. I'm not sure if he considered me a friend. I always felt like an outsider in those groups. But he was kind to me, and I love him. Eventually we both moved away from that area. I'm not good at keeping in touch, especially over long distances. For instance, my brother lives a couple of states away, I love him to death, and we talk maybe once a year.
So I'd call my friend every once in a while, and we'd catch up.
Eighteen years ago I lost my friend to depression. The details aren't important. How he did it. Who found him. The 3 am phone call. But it was 18 years ago. It still hurts. You think you'll always have someone, that they're just a phone call away. That you'll get to hear their weird take on that thing we'd always argue about. That you'll get to hear his latest poem…
And you'll always wonder if you could've done something to help them stay.
People don't realize that they bring light to the world. That they'll be missed. That there will be a hole in the world where they were. That they are loved more deeply and profoundly than they can know. The memory of them is a poor substitute for their presence.
No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone’s life is only the core of their actual existence
"I Worked It Out. You Have Killed Two Point Three Three Eight People," said the golem calmly.
"I have never laid a finger on anyone in my life, Mr Pump. I may be–– all the things you know I am, but I am not a killer! I have never so much as drawn a sword!"
"No, You Have Not. But You Have Stolen, Embezzled, Defrauded And Swindled Without Discrimination, Mr Lipvig. You Have Ruined Businesses And Destroyed Jobs. When Banks Fail, It Is Seldom Bankers Who Starve. Your Actions Have Taken Money From Those Who Had Little Enough To Begin With. In A Myriad Small Ways You Have Hastened The Deaths Of Many. You Do Not Know Them. You Did Not See Them Bleed. But You Snatched Bread From Their Mouths And Tore Clothes From Their Backs. For Sport, Mr Lipvig. For Sport. For The Joy Of The Game.
It… has not aged well. The practical effects are decent, and the comedy is okay. The brown-face? Not so much. NGL tho, Fischer Stevens had some great lines:
Howard: What if it goes out and melts down a bus load of nuns? How would you like to write the headline on that one!?
Clearly you've never had to bake for a gluten intolerant spouse with several other dietary restrictions
Call me Heisenberg, cause at this point I'm a goddamned chemist