I was looking for a new job recently and found a listing for Part-time Manhole Cover Inspector. Was tempted to apply, but I was not qualified.
My younger brother had a summer job in high school as a worm farmer.
Eat enough alphabet soup to give yourself diarrhea then look at what comes out. Same effect.
Sit in a cubicle for 8 hours a day.
If they pull a knife, you pull a gun. That’s the Chicago way!
But he was excellent at being completely full of shit.
Primarily listen on Spotify. I try to expand my horizons using their discovery playlists or artist/track radio for songs I already like, but they’ve got me heavily pigeonholed into late 90’s college rock and early/mid 00’s pop-punk…which is harsh but fair.
I occasionally check out place like Bandcamp or Tapefear for some rut busters. Most recently, Bandcamp turned me on to Irish hip hop artist Denise Chaila, which was a welcome surprise.
Ryan’s Hope - Apocalypse in Increments. It’s from 2006 but I didn’t discover it until around 2012, by which point they’d already rebranded as The Reaganomics and adopted a more pop-punk sound that didn’t resonate with me.
Exiled Kingdoms on Android.
Loved Cryptonomicon. Have you read his Baroque Cycle? It deals with some similar themes and ancestors of the same families around the turning of the 18th century.
My Teacher Flunked the Planet, by Bruce Coville.
The final book in the My Teacher is an Alien series, it follows a group of 6th graders who are tasked to explore the best and worst of humanity in order to help defend our right to exist to an intergalactic council of aliens that fears us. It deals with some pretty heavy fucking themes that have stuck with me since I first read it at the age of 10.
“Forty thousand,” said Duncan. His eyes were closed, as if he were reading from a page inside his head.
“What?” asked Susan.
“Forty thousand,” he repeated. “That’s how many kids die every day from things that could be changed if we, all of us, the people of Earth, decided they should be.”
I took in a sharp breath; forty thousand people was more than twice the population of Kennituck Falls.
“Forty thousand a day,” continued Duncan relentlessly. “That’s a quarter of a million a week. Over a million a month. Nearly fifteen million a year. They die from not having vaccines that cost less than a dollar apiece. They die from dirty wells and lack of food. They die from the fact that people don’t care, at least, not enough to change it.”
Duncan sat frozen, as if in a trance. Tears leaked from beneath his lowered eyelids, cutting paths through the dust of the camp that still covered his cheeks. His voice was like the voice of God, listing our sins.
“Last year, fourteen million children died because we earthlings decided to spend our money elsewhere. It happened the year before, too. And we’re going to let it happen again this year.”
Suddenly he opened his eyes and looked right at me. “Peter, I learned a lot in the last few weeks. I read more than you can imagine.I have millions of facts in my head that I’m trying to put together. I don’t know what it all means, but I know the numbers. I know one day’s worth of the money our world spends on guns and bombs and soldiers could save fifty million children over the next ten years.”
As Duncan spoke I had a vision, a fantasy, that the people of Earth - not the leaders, not the governments, just the people - were suddenly able to speak with one voice. And they said, “Enough. We don’t want it to be this way anymore. Make it right!”
But we couldn’t speak with one voice. For some reason we were no better than mute in the face of a disaster we all wanted to pretend wasn’t happening.
I was sick with shame and anger. And I knew that I would never be the same after that night.
I had been witness to a crime.
Now I would have to testify to what I had seen. Because to keep silent would also be a crime.
Too soon? Also just realized that I misquoted the anthem, which probably didn’t help.
But does that flag still wave?
But how your body senses a full bladder isn’t known. Certain proteins can be activated by cells being stretched or squeezed. One gene, called PIEZO2, holds the instructions to make such proteins. PIEZO2 has been shown to play a role in sensing mechanical stimulation, including touch, vibration, pain, and proprioception (the awareness of one’s body in space).
You’re supposed to be out of office, get off of Outlook.
Go to your settings, you probably have NSFW filtering on.
Just fucking legalize it already.
I was going to counter with, “what about Real Time w/ Bill Maher,” but I’ve never actually seen that show so you’re still correct.