#Seaboard System

[20th-century-railroading]

SBD0056

The southbound CSX Hopewell Switcher passes through downtown Richmond, VA on March 21, 1987, led by Seaboard System GP40 No. 6750. That is the James Monroe Building towering in the background.

[beltway-insider-komeradlurkr]

Lessons for Nationalization:

Mergers

A thing I've learned reading about the railroads is there's a good and bad way to go about merging a company. The good way is planned, gradual, and thought out to the circumstances of the companies. The foremost example would be the "affiliation" and merger of the B&O and C&O RRs into the Chessie System over 10 years from 1963-73. Another good example is the slow merger of Chessie and the Seaboard System into CSX that took place from 1980 to 1987.

Conversely what not to do is illustrated by the Infamous merger of the Penn Central. Before merging the Pennsylvania and New York Central Railroads were well established but struggling. However after the companies joined together there would be an exodus of former NYC managers and personnel, with PRR employees clamoring to fill the empty positions. The new management that was unacquainted with the operations and circumstances of the NYC subdivisions would be one of the factors that set PC down the path of financial ruin. The decay of Penn Central would require the creation of Conrail in 1976 to prevent the destruction of rail completely in the Northeast.

What the Sucess of Chessie/CSX and the abject failure of PC can tell us is merging railroads is not something to be done without careful planning and knowledge of the complex functions and dynamics of both organizations. Nationalization of the class I Companies would require the input of Railworkers, Shippers, and Insiders with intimate knowledge of company affairs to keep a continuity of service and ensure a smooth, well organized transition from private to public ownership. Only with such knowhow, forethought, and measured action would a national carrier be able to avoid the mistakes that destroyed Penn Central and preserve the networks of the pre merger companies.

[ratherembarrassing]

2025: week 6 and 7

previously, on ratherembarrassing, our heroine was fleeing the mothercountry for the new world...

around the world in thirteen days: so all up, i made my way through every timezone in 13 days. i... don't recommend it, i don't think. it's possible that it was less good because, uh, i didn't sleep for 2 weeks, but who the fuck can say. in any event, onward to the ununited states!

newark!: the calmest airport in the entire country?! the cute little monorail to the train station?!?! the complete lack of signage about the two different train operators and the requirement to get a completely different ticket for each????? i will never fly anywhere else ever again if i can help it.

wet dream tomato: that congestion tax really is working because the streets of midtown were quiet at midday. the vibe was really off until hours before i departed when i saw what looked to be an eight year-old smoking. a shout out to myself for dropping a pin in the three theatres i was seeing shows in on maps and booking a hotel in the middle of the triangle, because that was, actually, sweet as fuck.

theatah!: oh, mary! (lyceum theatre, broadway). as previously said, laughed so hard i nearly peed my pants in a new york theater. as not previously said, i also sucked every bit of myself up and stage door'd in the rain and told betty gilpin, through the power of close proximity, that i love and adore her. go see this.

and then i bought a coat: this truly was an endeavour. the half abandoned basement of a macy's in brooklyn could well have been where i met my end, but i lived to see another h&m and the sweetest sales girl in the world found me the last remaining coat in all of the eastern seaboard. getting this home became a whole thing.

bagel bagel bagel!: so many bagels, the most enchanting of which was one filled with birthday cake flavoured cream cheese from a BTS (the band???) themed bagel store. new york, you are so weird and i love you so much. honestly, because of the weather i was really committed to just not leaving a 4 block radius if i didn't have to (alas, brooklyn) and just wringing the weirdest shit out of those four blocks was incredibly fun. i've been visiting new york for eighteen years and lived there for long enough to pay rent three times, and i've never spent so much time in times square, but i had a fun snowy time.

also, tho: you get mobile signal with data on the subway now?!?!?!?!

theatah!: sunset blvd (st james theatre, broadway). i actually have an entire post in me about this so i'm going to just say that you are free to picture me in the world's largest puffer coat, snoopy style, attempting to melt into the floor as nicole scherzinger said she liked my good luck babe hat as it quietly midnight snowed all around us. byeeeee. (go see this, oh my god go see this!)

theatah!: death becomes her (lunt-fontanne theatre, broadway). i did not know destiny's child's michelle williams was in this until she appeared and i very rudely said out loud, oh my god that's destiny's child's michelle williams. regardless, i was three for three with bangers on this trip. go see this.

go west! life is not peaceful there: absolutely nobody appreciated the moment we were all standing on line for an aggressive pat down by the tsa at jfk when wind beneath my wings started playing over the pa system. i was not amongst my people at all, so i had to leave. on the way, i visited texas for a grand total of 5 minutes. please picture me running off my plane, dashing 3 gates down the terminal, hugging @xactodreams, and running onto the next plane.

a brief interlude: once again they let me drive on the wrong side of the road. they probably shouldn't. why are the traffic lights only on the other side of the intersection. hertz does this thing now where you can just wander around the lot and take whatever car you want, which was more stressful than anticipated.

conclave conclave: this is, actually, the entry for @tgifemslash, my beloved little gay con that you too could attend if you want to do things like, uh, sit in a circle for an hour raving madly about the various wonders of 2024 movie of the year conclave. at this point in our story i had slept very little and was about to commence 3 nights of approximately zero sleep before 4am.

taco taco taco!: i admittedly have historically not been a fan of most mexican food, entirely because it's just not good in australia. in the hands of @wanderson20 mine eyes have been opened to the glory.

traditional shoutouts: clark street diner (my favourite place on earth). the grove (why do i always end up here) (i had to buy a suitcase). erhewon or however the fuck it's spelled (i joined a cult). the nice woman at the qantas desk (thank you for not charing me to check my second suitcase (see grove, the)). panda express (lax's international terminal's only good quality).

oh also: kbox karaoke in a deserted strip mall at 9pm on a sunday in an otherwise entirely empty karaoke place is, actually, it. were there other patrons for a brief window of time, howling on the other side of the wall, or was that the ghosts of patrons never.

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE: swerved 20 minutes out of my way and paid homage at the chappell roan billboard. shout out to the other person there doing the same thing. then i had to go home :(

and then a hero comes along: entire row of seats to myself, love of my life. it's such a rare treat these days to commandeer three tiny, shitty pillows and three gross blankets, strap yourself awkwardly to a bench slightly too short for even your shortass body, and drug yourself into unconsciousness for 11 hours. amen.

and then nothing good ever happened again the end au contraire.

cannibal club!: the yellowjackets is BACK, BABY! the severance/yellowjackets double feature is the only reason to get up in the morning, tbh.

a little brunch: little molli's (abbotsford). the smoked pork neck french dip is to die for, but the blood orange cream soda is to live for.

if anything else happened, i will never remember it, good night.

[rjzimmerman]

Insurers Are Deserting Homeowners as Climate Shocks Worsen. (New York Times)

Excerpt from this New York Times story:

Since 2018, more than 1.9 million home insurance contracts nationwide have been dropped — “nonrenewed,” in the parlance of the industry. In more than 200 counties, the nonrenewal rate has tripled or more, according to the findings of a congressional investigation released Wednesday.

As a warming planet delivers more wildfires, hurricanes and other threats, America’s once reliably boring home insurance market has become the place where climate shocks collide with everyday life.

The consequences could be profound. Without insurance, you can’t get a mortgage; without a mortgage, most Americans can’t buy a home. Communities that are deemed too dangerous to insure face the risk of falling property values, which means less tax revenue for schools, police and other basic services. As insurers pull back, they can destabilize the communities left behind, making their decisions a predictor of the disruption to come.

Now, for the first time, the scale of that pullback is becoming public. Last fall, the Senate Budget Committee demanded the country’s largest insurance companies provide the number of nonrenewals by county and year. The result is a map that tracks the climate crisis in a new way.

The American Property Casualty Insurance Association, a trade group, said information about nonrenewals was “unsuitable for providing meaningful information about climate change impacts,” because the data doesn’t show why individual insurers made decisions. The group added that efforts to gather data from insurers “could have an anticompetitive effect on the market.”

Senator Sheldon Whitehouse, Democrat of Rhode Island and the committee’s chairman, said the new information was crucial. In an interview, he called the new data as good an indicator as any “for predicting the likelihood and timing of a significant, systemic economic crash,” as disruption in the insurance market spreads to property values.

“The climate crisis that is coming our way is not just about polar bears, and it’s not just about green jobs,” Mr. Whitehouse said Wednesday during a hearing on the investigation’s findings. “It actually is coming through your mail slot, in the form of insurance cancellations, insurance nonrenewals and dramatic increases in insurance costs.”

The map of dropped policies shows how the crisis in the American home insurance market has spread beyond well-known problems in Florida and California. The jump in nonrenewals now extends along the Gulf Coast, through Alabama and Mississippi; up the Atlantic seaboard, through the Carolinas, Virginia and into southern New England; inland, to parts of the plains and Intermountain West; and even as far as Hawaii.

[allwormdiet]

Interlude 6

Justice for Paige McAbee

This is. Fucking evil. Chaining a woman up like an animal and parading her around the courtroom. Like what the shit.

Utterly fucking barbaric

Brief detour I guess to provide exposition on the existence of rogues

Going from heartbreak to outrage this quickly in succession was some fucking whiplash when I first read this arc, fucking tell you what

Actual torture.

The inhumanity of this entire arrangement is borderline sickening to see play out. What an utter failure of the system

Oh hey you two

I can see how people would get. Touchy. About a power like that. But touchy enough for a life sentence is fucked.

Also, credit where it's due, Bakuda's ingenuity in this situation is still pretty well on display

Bakuda is playing with fucking fire here, and not just pyrokinesis, har har

Okay you know what, callousness and cruelty aside, this is a fucking badass display from Bakuda.

Okay so what the fuck is up with the ABB capes, actually. Bakuda built a bomb that would've devastated, like, the entire Eastern Seaboard, and probably even further beyond that into the west and north. I'd say that she was slumming it as part of a gang that's only got a minor presence in one city and a few neighboring areas, but honestly Lung feels just as cracked.

Dude basically only fights harder over time, he would've taken down everyone in that warehouse if Skitter didn't make a Hail Mary play with Newter's hallucinogen. Kaiser, Sundancer, Bitch, Newter, and one or both of the twins would've been fucking smoked, maybe Labyrinth if Coil's guys didn't bother to pull her out. This dude could've been putting up massive numbers throughout his entire reign as the head of the ABB.

So what the fuck was he doing instead? If he's a gang boss with this kind of power at his fingertips, where's the fucking appetite that should come with it? Skitter didn't even think he was an A-lister before they fought and he proved her wrong, she thought he was like, a step above Uber and Leet? In what world does that misconception become publicly accepted?

I'd say this is gonna bug me, but uhh, Lung's going to the fucking oubliette to end all oubliettes so it's a bit of a moot point, isn't it

Like, okay. Fucked up, sure thing. But this is still such a massive injustice; it was a one-time thing and she couldn't have possibly known if this was the first time it ever happened. You could've demanded training for her power, if nothing else, but you throw her into Hell on Earth. Fuck me.

This is a level of determination that I think has so far gone unmatched in this story. Like, I'll give Taylor time to pull off something even more outrageously self-harming for the sake of an objective, it's her story after all and there's a lot of words left, but Bakuda really is something else.

Of course that "something else" does include being an abrasive piece of shit, but hell, she's a parahuman, I don't think I've met one of them that's without some kind of baggage.

Maybe there's a world out there where after her trigger event she comes down on the other end of the hero/villain line. Bombs aren't exactly heroic but she could build non-lethally for standard use and save the big damage for shit like Endbringers. Plus the obvious potential of having a bomb Tinker as an EOD expert, that would be game-changing.

She'd still probably be an asshole, but like. You don't have to be pleasant to be a hero, we know that one for sure.

Alas.

I was torn between wanting Paige to get out of this and wanting Lung and Bakuda to get what's coming to them.

Hi Dragon, wish you weren't the warden of the worst prison I've ever heard of in my life, see you later in the story maybe

Also. Six hundred prisoners in the Birdcage. Not counting whoever's died. That's a fucking lot of them.

Wait what the fuck happened to Newfoundland

Oh, Dragon hates this too, well there's a small fucking mercy.

Also, "the hole the men opened into the women's half of the Birdcage" is a fucking alarming phrase. We're just fucking letting anything fly down here, huh? Jesus Christ.

Dragon's description of the Birdcage's security measures is. Fucking extreme. This is a fucking nightmare, an absolute cavalcade of human rights abuses that I can't even begin to fathom.

Have children been born in the Birdcage? If not, who's preventing that? Is everyone being covertly dosed with contraceptives to keep them from having children? Do the block leaders have people on hand to deal with abortions? How do you handle dietary restrictions? Religious restrictions? What if it turns out you were wrongly convicted?

Literally everything about this place is a horror show. Every implication is dark as fucking Vantablack.

Gross

I guess this is what passes for society down here, huh

Well shit, I guess I'm glad Bakuda has some enrichment at least.

Okay, so, Marquis is a supervillain who's taken over a cell block, and he's a Brockton native invested in learning what he's missed out on

...Easy money says he's Amy Dallon's old man.

Not entirely shocked that Lung's spent time behind bars, though I assume that was before he got his powers.

And uhh. I'm gonna be real, I feel kinda bad for Bakuda here. Like she's a piece of shit, obviously, but for all her insults she seemed happy to work for Lung, enough that she made a point of freeing him from the Protectorate and putting him back in charge when she could've stayed in charge, taken advantage of his arrest and done whatever she pleased

and now he's gonna kill her. Because she insulted him. Because it'll make life in prison easier.

I mean, shit. I do not like Bakuda's odds in this exchange. It probably doesn't take a lot for Lung to have her debilitated, and from there the kill is even easier. Maybe he dies too, but I don't expect that to be the case.

Current Thoughts

Justice for Paige McAbee

The Birdcage is, I think, a very reasonable simulacrum of Hell, and its very existence probably gives in-universe philosophers, ethicists, defense attorneys, and human rights activists fucking hives.

Also, justice for Paige McAbee

I'm not going to mourn Bakuda, but maybe I'll mourn the version of her that could've been in a kinder world.

Last thing, just in case we weren't clear:

Justice for Paige McAbee

[sketchy-lizards]

New StEx oc alert ‼️⚠️ Her name is Cordelia

~Character info under cut ~

Google told me her name means daughter of the sea and I thought that fits for a CSX character (it was formed as a merger between Chessie system and Seaboard)

Cordelia and Jessie have a sister like relationship. Jessie trained Cordelia through the early 80’s before her retirement. CSX has Cabooses/ Shoving platforms, so Cordelia is still in service :)

Don’t worry! The line Cordelia works on runs next to the museum Jessie lives at. They get to see each other all the time :3

[mllemaenad]

I'm not convinced the Commonwealth forces represent the majority of the Eastern Brotherhood, but the mention of their expanded reach in the Eastern Seaboard has me wondering whether they might be in a similar situation to the NCR in New Vegas - trying to claim too much territory with too few men.

Eh. I don't know. I really think that might be most of them, and the reason I think that is tied to your thought.

The first reason I think this might be most of the Eastern Brotherhood is, well, the Prydwen itself. Maintaining even the ship itself over long distances must be a massive undertaking and we know Ingram is battling with engineering problems:

Fr: Proctor Ingram IG-444PR To: Elder Maxson MX-001E As you know, in order to get the Prydwen rapidly to the Commonwealth, I had my engineering team pull her older power plant and replace it with an updated fusion plant we pulled from that aircraft carrier wreckage. I was able to squeeze almost one hundred percent efficiency from the new reactor, but the system is burning through our coolant supply faster than expected. As we've been docked over the airport, I've been able to deactivate the main engines to cool down the reactor, but we're still eating up coolant when we're in hover mode. We're eventually going to hit a point where we'll run out of coolant. If that happens, we'll need to put the Prydwen on the ground. I desperately need your help if you want to prevent that from happening. I'll be certain to provide you with the details at our next briefing. – Arthur Maxson's Terminal, Prydwen Concerns, Fallout 4

That takes people. But more than that, the Prydwen is not a fighting ship. It's built to haul people.

Now the Prydwen might be a big beast, but she's not built for fighting. – Proctor Ingram Dialogue, Fallout 4 Have you ever seen anything like that? The airship? God, they must have an entire army on that thing. – Piper Dialogue, Fallout 4

This is a giant sky bus. You're meant to pack a tonne of knights into it to do your fighting for you, because it's durable, but it can't shoot or manoeuvre. And we do know that the Brotherhood did bring quite a lot of knights with them, both because it's integral to their stated intention of picking a fight with the Institute, and because we see a lot of them in spawns and random encounters. Once the Prydwen arrives, Brotherhood knights are a reasonably common sight in the Commonwealth.

That brings me to the second reason I think this is most of them: they've recently come from the Capital Wasteland and ... well ... how many soldiers do we think that region can even support? Armies, so the saying goes, march on their stomachs. And, well, you've seen the Capital Wasteland, right? In Fallout 3 the population was scattered, miniscule, and in several settlements actively described as dwindling. Nor were they exactly winning on the agriculture front.

I keep thinking of the Giant Bag of Stuff in the Fallout TV series.

You don't get a knight without a squire and a Giant Bag of Stuff.

I get that the visual is supposed to be funny, but I think it's also worth paying attention to what they're saying about the Brotherhood here. Historically, knights have typically been the most expensive soldiers on the field. You don't get knights without a massive support system behind them. Every time you see a squad of knights wandering around in Fallout 4, think of all the squires, initiates and scribes who must exist to cook and clean, maintain their power armour, their clothing, and the ship itself – and do all the other stuff necessary to support those guys having the freedom to stand around and be rude to you when you walk by them on the road.

Of course you can only expect so much realism from a video game. I don't expect a Fallout game to show me a fully fledged textiles industry unless that's important to the plot. But that doesn't mean those people don't exist. If they're hauling a bunch of knights around, they're also hauling a bunch of support staff around.

I just don't think the Capital Wasteland could support significantly more than one airship full of these idiots. You can be generous and assume that Project Purity could have improved the agricultural situation a bit. You can also say that, once the airship was built, it would have allowed them to extend their reach – and potentially gain access to more food and other supplies over a wider area. Sure.

But on the first point, it almost seems as though the opposite is true: there are enough characters recurring between Fallout 3 and Fallout 4 to give the impression that maybe the exodus out of the Capital Wasteland isn't slowing as much as one might like. And on the second ... well, neither Point Lookout nor the Pitt looked well equipped to support an army either. I don't think there's a secret resource-rich area just out of sight. I think this is pretty much it.

So, to the third reason: well, there's your thought. Do I think the Brotherhood is overextending itself here like the NCR did in New Vegas? Well. Nah. Because the NCR is a government and the Brotherhood of Steel is not.

Take an example you'll find really early in Fallout: New Vegas – the Powder Gangers. From their presence you can learn several things.

The NCR has a justice system that includes incarceration – which in itself requires all the resources to feed, clothe, house and guard all of those people for the term of their sentence.

As the Powder Gangers are supposed to be maintaining the railroad, we also know they have public works projects – for which they've elected to use prison labour

Presumably there are instances of this system still functioning as intended closer to the capital.

Out on the frontier, however, they lack the resources to maintain it: the prisoners have escaped, and thus the NCR has lost control of both its penal system and its public works project. They have overextended themselves.

Yeah. The thing is ... I don't think the Brotherhood is doing any of that. It's not in their nature.

We've had people go rogue, though, and start helping people. One chapter had a small civil war over it. We take our isolationism seriously. – Veronica Dialogue, Fallout: New Vegas

Even the considerably more open Lyons Brotherhood was still pretty damn isolationist. They're not present in any of the settlements in the Capital Wasteland, and you can't get into the Citadel until the Enclave create bigger problems for everyone as part of the The Waters of Life quest. And one thing that we know for sure is that this "helping people" idea pretty well died out with the reintegration of the Outcasts.

I don't think they're out there repairing roads or laying pipes to get water out to the settlements faster. I don't think they're working with the various governments in the region to establish law and order. It's not their thing. The Brotherhood really only works to benefit the Brotherhood.

Fr: Proctor Teagan TG-477PR To: Lancer-Captain Kells KS-390LC Now that we've arrived in the Commonwealth, I'd like to establish trade relations with the locals. I'm going to need a standard sweep and retrieve team and one of our vertibirds in order to make that happen. There are several caravans that roam the Commonwealth, and we'll use the vertibirds to track them. If any of the caravans gets jumped, we can swoop in and lend a hand to let them know that we're the friendly eye in the sky. Since you can't normally buy that kind of protection from mercenaries, we'll be certain to get the best prices and values for trades. I've used the same tactic in the Capital Wasteland and it worked wonders. Out here, with the threat of the Institute looming over their heads, we'll have these merchants eating out of our hands. – Captain Kells's Terminal, Fallout 4

The noteworthy thing here is that this is an initiative thought up by the quartermaster in order to get better prices, and it's something that he came up with back in the Capital Wasteland. Teagan doesn't have principles or anything: he'll also happily send you to extort supplies from the local farmers. He's open to any and all tactics to keep the Brotherhood well supplied ... and has learned that one big gesture can earn you a lifelong discount. There is no standard Brotherhood policy to protect the trade caravans. There isn't in the Commonwealth, and there wasn't in the Capital Wasteland. They don't care. Teagan just wants a coupon.

Okay, but one might reasonably ask, what about this?

Aftermath Elder Maxson reigns supreme in the Capital Wasteland, and his authority and influence have been spreading across the Eastern Seaboard, thanks in no small part by the mobility afforded by the Prydwen. He has the full support of the Elders back on the West Coast, who have proudly reported that they've begun eradicating cults that have popped up, worshipping Maxson as though he's some kind of god. Maxson himself is almost offended by the idea of being referred to as a deity, as it goes against everything he believes in. Arthur Maxson is happy to be one thing… the perfect human specimen, an example of everything a human being can achieve. Assisted, even enhanced, by advanced technology, but still very much human. – Quinlan's Terminal, The Rise of Elder Maxson, Fallout 4

Do I think this is pure bullshit after all? Well, no. I think it just means that when the Brotherhood say they "reign supreme", you have to remember that they are wildly uninterested in doing the work of government.

They've never shown significant interest in holding or maintaining territory, and they typically piggyback on the success of the surrounding area. In the original Fallout they are confined to their Lost Hills bunker. There are growing settlements in California, but the situation is still pretty precarious. By Fallout 2 they have a number of small bunkers scattered across multiple settlements. The region has stabilised significantly. Oh, sure, there are a range of problems: raiders and slavers and drugs and corruption. But prosperity is on the rise. When the NCR is established, we know there is a state named after Roger Maxson – but that the Brotherhood neither rules it, nor is part of the NCR. Later, of course, they come into conflict with the NCR.

So what does "reigning supreme" in the Capital Wasteland mean? Well, I think it means that Arthur can fly up and down the coast in his ridiculous airship untroubled. I think he can send knights into pre-war ruins to search for tech with no difficulty, that he can kill super mutants and ghouls (whether peaceful or no) with impunity, and that he can compel settlements to hand over food or any interesting technology.

I don't think they're overreaching because I don't think they're really holding anything, at least outside their personal bases. They're just flying around bullying people. And the region is not organised enough to successfully resist. If they were doing anything else, I doubt they'd have as much support from the West Coast Brotherhood. This, however, is very much in line with traditional Brotherhood goals.

I think it's reasonable to assume that they left a garrison to guard some of the more interesting pieces they had hold of in the Capital Wasteland – Project Purity, the Operation: Anchorage simulation, the presidential metro and whatever is left at Adams Air Force Base. But ... I also think it's at least possible that they didn't.

Why? Because they packed the stupid robot. They packed the stupid robot even though it's broken. Again. It's worth remembering that the Brotherhood ... doesn't care all that much about Project Purity, and to the extent that they did care, it was Owyn Lyons's initiative. Lyons was willing to provide security for James's team while they worked ... but he devoted not one scribe to working on it after James left. The outcasts, on the other hand, are less interested in the simulation tech than they are in the weapons and armour completing it can unlock.

What do the Brotherhood care about? Liberty Prime. They love Liberty Prime. They spent years tinkering with the fucking thing while the wasteland fell to raiders, super mutants and rampant radiation. Then it worked for ten minutes and broke again. And they hauled it to the Commonwealth to fix again.

You might reasonably object – this sounds like lunacy! Project Purity is the big scientific breakthrough in the Capital Wasteland. Replicate that in any area with a water problem and you've solved one of the biggest barriers to rebuilding. Sure. But that's what Veronica keeps trying to tell us, in New Vegas. The Brotherhood doesn't really care about any of that. They want to find better weapons and armour, and ideally big shouty, shooty, robots that they can hoard and use against people they don't like.

They don't innovate any more than they govern.

So I think – rationally, they probably should have left a garrison. And maybe they did. But maybe they didn't. Because they packed the only thing they found in the Capital Wasteland that they really thought was cool.

Now, that doesn't mean I don't think they ran into trouble. We know they did. That is, in fact, the plot of Fallout 4. When they arrive in the Commonwealth they encounter an organisation prosperous enough, and technologically advanced enough, to resist them: namely the Institute. Depending on the player's actions they may also find the Minutemen and Railroad in solid shape.

Now, obviously, player choice comes into it here. You can back the Brotherhood and lead them to victory, but equally you can back any of the other factions and take them down. The Brotherhood in 2287 have a massive airship, some power armour and a stupid broken robot – but they have no allies or resources to lean on.

So, yeah, I do think that's most of them in Fallout 4. And I don't think they can overreach the way the NCR did because they aren't a government. They're an isolationist military cult with a deeply ambivalent relationship to technology. They aren't trying to govern and improve swathes of land, they're just bothering people. But what this means is that a sufficiently determined group of people armed with laser muskets can in fact kick their arses.

[malevolent-muse]

Echoes from the Edge - NBC Hannibal Fan Fiction -

I got bitten by a particularly feisty plot bunny and ended up contracting a touch of writer's rabies. The only cure? Writing this one-shot to get it out of my system! I think it makes for a decent read. *fingers crossed* Okay, I know crossover stories can be a little controversial, but hear me out—both Hannibal and Law & Order: Criminal Intent were NBC shows, so it actually makes sense to pair them together! All I’m doing is taking a character from one world and dropping him into the twisted, psychological universe of Hannibal. I promise, it’s not as crazy as it sounds. Stick with me on this one!

Fandom: Hannibal/Law&Order:CI Status: Complete Word Count: 2,902 Rating: Teen Summary: After the bloody crescendo of Hannibal Lecter's twisted relationship with Will Graham, the aftermath demands clarity. With FBI investigators reeling, Jack Crawford turns to an outsider: NYPD Detective Robert Goren, a seasoned profiler known for his uncanny insight and unorthodox methods.

Goren arrives to sift through the wreckage, unburdened by the tangled web of involvement with either Lecter or Graham. But as he delves into the crime scene, he finds himself haunted by the lingering remnants of the chaos. The scene tells a story of a trap, betrayal, and violence.

Can Goren uncover the truth Jack seeks, or will the echoes from the edge of the Atlantic leave him questioning more than just the case at hand?

*** Cross Posted on AO3 - which has a better user interface for fanfic, IMO.

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Tagged: @agoraphobiaismyname , @cherryyredd8 , @irlmarkhoffman , @eat-sleep-ship-the-ships , @tujhse-raabta , @gabalicious-g , @buggaboorenegade, @diaely, @blessupblessup, @jssnsl , @fancybananagarden , @thebkwyrm , @breannaherman638 , @drwho-ess , @malindacath , @mrsmorganprentiss , @privatetruths

The wind carried a chill as it whipped around Jack Crawford, tugging at the edges of his upturned collar. Not far away, the roar of the ocean echoed faintly in his ears as he waited. The gravel road that led to the cliff-side house was long and winding. And even though the car was in sight, it still took a few minutes for it to reach its destination.

Grime from the road covered the black exterior, making the vehicle look more gray than anything else. Beneath the dirt, with its New York tags, the license plate was barely visible. Grinding to a halt a few paces from the Agent-in-Charge of the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit, a cloud of dust billowed around the car’s tires.

A man emerged from the driver's side of the vehicle. Exiting, he stretched his legs and squared his shoulders beneath a brown trench coat.

Jack eyed him thoughtfully, foremost noticing the man’s striking height and imposing build.

“Detective Goren,” Jack greeted him.

Approaching, the detective returned, “Agent Crawford.”

"I take it that you’ve read over the notes I sent?”

“Yes,” Goren said with a nod. “Were you able to secure the photos I asked for?”

Holding up the thick folder in his hand, the FBI agent wordlessly indicated his response.

“Come,” Jack instructed. “Follow me. I’ll show you to the crime scene.”

It was as the pair of them plodded up the footpath to the house that Jack realized he had been rather remiss in his niceties.

“I suppose I should thank you,” he stated.

“For what?”

“For coming all the way down from New York.”

“Did I have a choice, Agent Crawford?” Goren questioned. “I am aware of the strings you had to pull to get me here. You do know that I’m not the only profiler on the Eastern Seaboard, don’t you?”

“My options were limited.”

There was a hint of cautious speculation in the detective’s voice as he replied, “Will Graham’s been teaching at Quantico for a while now. Before then, he was in the field. Would it be fair to surmise that he has close ties to or has trained most of your agents?”

In response, Jack grunted a wordless reply. He was acutely aware that he had placed Will in a position where fellow profilers, both unseasoned and experienced, held him in high regard. Bringing any of those individuals into this investigation would not be prudent.

“All I’m saying is that I was surprised to get the call,” Goren supplied. “I knew Will too, after all. Even if it was just in passing.”

At this, Jack chuckled.

“Hard to imagine Declan Gage’s protégé being surprised.”

Behind him, the agent could hear the footsteps abruptly halt. Jack paused as well, turning to look at the NYPD detective.

“With all due respect, Agent Crawford,” Goren said, his jaw visibly tightening as he met Jack’s gaze, “is that why I’m here? Because Declan Gage was my mentor 30 years ago? I’m not gonna lie. If you’re going to associate me with Declan, I can get right back in my car and head home to New York.”

Uneasy at having inadvertently upset the detective, Jack explained, “I meant no disrespect. Declan Gage was one of the best.”

“And yet, I cannot think of a worse legacy to leave behind,” Goren replied with a huff.

“Because his daughter began murdering people?”

“Jo just desperately wanted his attention. Declan was the one who went truly insane. My brother is dead because of him.”

“That,” Jack replied, extending the folder with the crime scene photos, “is exactly why I need your skills, Detective Goren.”

Goren silently took the folder, as though he were accepting an unspoken apology.

Jack continued, “My former agent followed a similar path. Will Graham has unique abilities, but he is not the only person to possess such talent. I need someone who can walk that line without falling over the edge and going insane.”

Turning slowly on his heel, Jack walked the remaining few yards toward Hannibal Lecter’s cliff-side home. It was an impressive structure of concrete and steel. With a roof that resembled a bird in flight, and glass walls giving the illusion of nothing but air beneath, it was unforgettable. It was only its solitary position along the bluff that afforded it any pretense of anonymity.

The NYPD detective had now come to stand alongside Jack. Though, instead of staring at the house, Goren’s attention was primarily focused on the contents of the file’s manilla folds. Thumbing through the stack of glossy photos, he remained silent.

Shifting a bit in his shoes, Jack questioned, “Where would you like to start first?”

“Outside,” Goren answered flatly, briefly lifting his head and nodding in the direction of the patio.

“That’s where Dolarhyde was found.”

“Francis Dolarhyde? The man that the papers called The Tooth Fairy?”

Though the perpetrator was dead, the weight of his crimes still weighed heavily on Jack’s heart. And so it was with a sigh that he answered, “Yes.”

Unmoved by the agent’s apparent unrest, Goren questioned further, “Wasn’t this the plan? To use Dr. Lecter to lure in Dolarhyde?”

His face contorting with frustration, Jack clarified, “The plan was to take Hannibal to a secure location. Not here. I wish I could explain where it all went wrong, but all the other agents and officers involved in transportation that day are dead. It took us too long to find this place and when we did ... we could only locate Dolarhyde’s body.”

Goren’s fingers flipped through the photos until he came to one that pictured Dolarhyde’s remains. The image only conveyed a two-dimensional sense of the scene, but Jack didn’t need to look at the photograph to remember the condition of the dead man’s body. Spread eagle on the patio’s stone square stone slabs, the dark blood had blossomed out around the corpse.

Pulling the picture out from amongst its fellows, the detective strode out onto the stone terrace. Goren’s eyes flickered back and forth between the image in his hand and the scene of the crime. It wasn’t until he had positioned himself in the exact spot from where the photo was taken that he stopped and merely stared at the ground.

“Detective?” Jack questioned, coming to stand across from the seasoned investigator but careful not to step into the area where the serial murderer’s body had lain.

Instead of answering, Goren simply handed back the file with its remaining photographs. He seemed to expect the FBI agent to hold on to them, protecting them from being blown away in the wind. However, it felt strange to Jack to be playing second fiddle to a lowly police detective; especially without so much as a “please” or “thank you.” He wondered if this was how Goren typically operated. Little doubt this is how the detective had earned a reputation for being odd.

Goren crouched down, the hem of his suit pants lifting to reveal the tops of his worn black leather shoes: a minor detail quickly overshadowed by what the detective did next. With his head lowered and cocked to the side, the detective’s face was parallel to the ground as he stared out towards the edge of the terrace and, just beyond it, the cliff’s edge.

A bit unnerved by the detective’s methods, Jack found himself supplying information about the condition of Dolarhyde’s body, despite not being asked.

“A shell casing was found out here, but Dolarhyde wasn’t shot. His death was of a more violent nature. They didn’t use a gun to kill him, but rather a knife and an ax.”

“And teeth,” Goren added.

“That would’ve been Hannibal.”

“Are you sure Graham acted alongside him?”

“Will was drawn to Hannibal like a moth to a flame, except he knew better and tried to keep his distance. The problem was the flame, in this analogy, craved the moth and wouldn’t cooperate without him. Am I making sense?”

Goren lifted his head and sat back on his heels, replying, “A convoluted analogy, but I get the picture.”

“Analysis of the DNA recovered revealed three distinct profiles. I don’t think I need to tell you who they belonged to.”

“Both Lecter and Graham were injured during the altercation,” the detective noted.

Jack nodded and said, “There was a lot of blood.”

“I know.”

“Of course, the photos.”

“The smell,” Goren corrected.

“The smell?” Jack questioned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Detective, it’s been over a week. There’s been rain. You can’t possibly smell a thing.”

Tracing his finger along the sand between the patio stones, Goren briefly brought it up to his nose. His lids closed over his deep brown eyes as he inhaled deeply.

“Most of it seeped into the ground,” the detective said, “and only the faintest scent remains. But it is there.”

As much as the FBI agent was intrigued by Goren’s talents, he hadn’t brought the man all the way down from New York to tell him things he already knew. However, not truly knowing what made the detective tick, Jack was limited in the ways he could nudge the process along.

“That,” Jack finally said, after a moment of deliberation, “doesn’t tell me where they’ve gone. We know they were injured, and yet the only evidence we found points to their arrival on the property. There’s nothing indicating how they left.”

Goren shifted out of his crouch, straightening his legs and bringing himself to his full height. A few long strides were all it took for him to cross the patio and make his way over to the edge of the cliff.

“Maybe they didn’t leave,” he tentatively speculated.

At this suggestion, Jack gave a disgruntled huff.

“Goren,” he challenged, “there’s no sign that they went back into the house. And my team searched every nook and cranny of the structure.”

Jack glanced back over his shoulder at the house. A massive sheet of plastic rattled tightly in the ocean breeze as it covered the space once occupied by the floor-to-ceiling window that had formed much of the living room’s outer wall. Consequently, there was a considerable amount of broken glass still remaining on the exposed concrete slab that made up the structure’s foundation.

“We even scanned for trapdoors and concealed passages,” Jack continued, his tone tinged with frustration. “It’s like they disappeared into thin air.”

Looking back at the detective, Jack immediately noticed that Goren was now standing just at the brink of the cliff’s edge.

“Detective?!” he said, his voice raised ever so slightly. “I think you’re close enough.”

“Are you afraid of heights, Agent?” Goren called back.

“I am not afraid. I just have a healthy respect for the consequences of falling from a great height.”

A sizable stone lay between the terrace and the sheer drop of the precipice. Goren lowered himself onto it.

“The sea is eroding the bluff,” Goren said quietly.

The soft cadence of the detective’s voice drew Jack closer as he strained to hear him over the distant roar of waves crashing far below.

Resting his arms behind his back, Jack replied, “Such is the course of nature. It ebbs and flows with time.”

Another moment passed, perhaps two, where neither of them spoke. Once again, Jack found himself breaking the silence.

“Should we go into the house? There is more I’d like you to see.”

Goren turned his gaze back toward the agent, though his focus seemed elsewhere. Pensive, his eyes traveled from the spot near the raised metal fire pit (where Dolarhyde’s body had been found) back to the edge of the cliff. This, in itself, was not unusual. However, the detective’s eyes flickered, as though tracking movement. It was as if he were watching a scene play out before him.

“Detective?” Jack questioned.

When the other man gave no response, Jack tried again.

“Goren, what do you see?”

Still, the detective remained silent.

Jack stepped closer and prodded one last time.

“Robert.”

The detective shifted his line of sight, the glaze of aberration leaving his eyes as he focused on the agent standing before him.

A smile played at the corners of Goren’s lips as he spoke.

“It’s just ‘Bobby,’ Agent Crawford. Not ‘Robert.’”

“Okay, then, Bobby. What do you see?”

Instead of answering, Goren posed a question of his own.

“The wall of glass…” he speculated. “It shattered. How many casings did you say you found?”

“Just the one,” Jack replied.

“And the gun?”

“It was located in the house, along with an antique video camera. There’s also a significant amount of blood, mostly Hannibal’s and Will’s. Though I should mention that a wine bottle was found smashed on the floor, so you’ll probably smell that first.”

“Glass like that doesn’t shatter easily.”

Confused, the FBI agent asked, “The wine bottle?”

“No,” Goren clarified. “The window would have been made of multiple layers of tempered glass laminated together. It was only by shooting it out that Dolarhyde gained entry into the house.”

Finally catching on to the detective’s line of reasoning, Jack picked up where Goren had left off.

“Hannibal and Will would’ve been in plain view,” he said, outlining what might’ve happened next on the night of the Tooth Fairy’s death. “The plan worked. They lured him in.”

“Was the plan that when Dolarhyde attacked them, they would fight back and kill him?” Goren questioned sharply.

It was at that moment, Jack fell silent, unwilling to answer.

“Who did you want dead??” Goren asked.

“The plan was a gamble to begin with. Everyone involved knew the risks.”

“Did they? Tell me, Agent Crawford, whose life did you risk without a moment of hesitation?”

“I think you know,” Jack bit back.

“Doctor Lecter?”

Jack gave a curt nod. There was no need to elaborate.

With a look of incredulity, Goren questioned, “How many men died that day just for you to put Hannibal Lecter in the line of fire?”

“Eight.”

Goren abruptly stood, turning his back on the FBI agent and once again facing out toward the Atlantic. Taking a single step forward, he muttered under his breath, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Alarmed, Jack quickly moved within arm’s reach of the detective. Goren was dangerously close to the edge—too close. If the need arose, Jack was prepared to grab him, ready to stop the detective from tumbling over the precipice.

“A decision had to be made,” Jack explained. “I was merely the one who made it.”

“And what about the men who died? What about Will Graham? You said it yourself. He was like a moth to the flame.”

Unable to find the words to explain why he had done what he did, Jack swallowed hard. He blinked away the rising emotion and, as he always had before, maintained his unwavering demeanor.

“Like a moth to the flame,” Goren uttered, briefly repeating his prior sentiment. “It wouldn’t change him, though.”

“What wouldn’t?”

“Getting consumed by Lecter’s intensity.”

Confused by what the detective meant, Jack waited for Goren to provide some clarifying remark.

“Empathy is a terrible gift,” Goren continued. “To knowingly be attracted to something that causes so much pain... feeling that pain. Will would want to stop it, even as he was consumed by his desire for it.”

Jack paused, acutely feeling the wind snap at his face, making his blood run cold.

“What are you saying?”

Goren craned his neck, looking down the bluff’s ridges of earth and rock until his eyes met the ocean below.

“They went over the edge,” he said. “The waves smashing them against the rocks or currents pulling them out to sea. They are gone, Agent Crawford, one way or another.”

Skeptically, Jack asked, “You think they were so careless to topple over the edge?”

“No. I think Will put an end to not only his suffering but Hannibal’s ability to inflict more.”

Leaning back on his heels, Jack stuffed his free hand in his pocket and grimly stated, “They’re dead.”

“Dead?” the detective postulated. “Most likely. But I can’t say for certain. Reading a scene is one thing,” he continued, gesturing toward the patio, “but the ocean is another. Still, I very much doubt they would’ve survived the fall.”

“So, that’s it, then?”

Goren sighed softly, the sound a quiet lament that seemed at odds with his imposing stature. The loose dirt and small rocks beneath his shoes made a grating noise as he turned and walked back onto the stone terrace. As he passed, he silently placed the photograph of Dolarhyde’s body atop the folder still clutched in Jack’s hands, a subtle yet telling gesture.

“There’s no evidence they returned to the house,” he remarked. “Nor is there any indication they drove away or walked off. There’s only one possibility left, and Will had both the means and the motivation. It’s enough to close this case, even with the unknowns. ‘All suspects are either dead or presumed dead.’”

As Jack watched the other man leave the scene, he raised his voice and protested, “Presuming that Hannibal Lecter is dead is pure folly, Bobby.”

“And it is pure folly to chase after ghosts!” Goren shot back, pausing long enough to turn and look at Agent Crawford. “Dead or alive, the lingering memory of what happened here will haunt you either way. There’s nothing else you can do that you haven’t already done. Trust me, I know from experience.”

[scp-detector]

i fucking love this guy

Two meteorological phenomena in a row! Interesting coincidence! =)

SCP DETECTED! KETER CLASS OBJECT!

Item #: SCP-8920

Clearence Level 3: CONFIDENTIAL. SECURE INFORMATION NOT INCLUDED.

Object Class: Keter.

Disruption Class: 4/EKHI.

Risk Class: 5/CRITICAL.

Special Containment Procedures: MTF Tau-10 ("Storm Chasers") is tasked with monitoring global weather systems to identify potential SCP-8920 instances. Civilian meteorological data is regularly screened for anomalies, including abnormal pressure fluctuations and wind speed irregularities. Advanced weather modification systems, formerly effective, are now used for disaster mitigation rather than neutralization.

Upon identification of SCP-8920 instances, Foundation assets are to initiate large-scale evacuations under the guise of civilian storm warnings. All public data concerning SCP-8920's anomalous nature is intercepted and altered to reflect standard Category 5 hurricanes. Amnestic treatment is administered to survivors reporting cognitohazard-related behavior.

Research into improved pre-landfall detection and neutralization methods continues.

Description: SCP-8920 is an randomly annually recurring meteorological anomaly resembling a hybridized hurricane and supercell thunderstorm that manifests between June and October. The phenomenon consistently forms within the North Atlantic Basin, typically developing off the coast of Bahamas, before following a westward path toward landfall along the Eastern Seaboard or Gulf Coast of the United States.

Despite possessing the general size, pressure gradients, and wind speed of a Category 5 hurricane, SCP-8920 maintains a rotating mesocyclone similar to a supercell, located in the storm’s eyewall. This mesocyclone sustains highly organized convection and updrafts that generate violent tornadoes at a rate far exceeding any known meteorological phenomena. Detection of the mesocyclone inside an SCP-8920 instance using any known technology is as of now impossible.

Read more on the SCP Wiki! CLEARENCE LEVEL 3 REQUIRED.

[20th-century-railroading]

CSXT - Dolton, IL

A trio of Seaboard System B36-8s roll a northbound intermodal train from the UP Villa Grove Sub to the B&O at Dolton, in May 1987.

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

Zavesky Observatory — Mafia 2

Located in Hillwood, northeast of Empire Bay. Named after Peter Zavesky (1850—1911), it's home to the largest planetarium dome on the eastern seaboard. The construction took six years, and was funded by Carlo Falcone, who's known as a generous benefactor with a love of astronomy. The facility is used by universities throughout the region for scientific and educational purposes, and includes a picturesque park with a view of the city. There is also an older, abandoned observatory located nearby.

planetarium brochure text:

WELCOME TO EMPIRE BAY'S PLANETARIUM The office of the director of the planetarium operates via the Department of Astrophysics at Morton state university. Our mission is to bring the frontiers of science to the public via exhibitory, books, public programs and more.

LEADING YOU TO THE FRONTIERS OF SPACE We aim to serve as the premier conduit between the frontier of exciting cosmic discovery and your appreciation of the cosmos! Thanks to the generosity of the Falcone Family Trust and Empire Bay National Bank, we are able to provide ground breaking glimpses into the workings of the Universe. From the outer reaches of the Solar system to our exciting "Voyage to the Moon" our exhibits are constantly updated to bring you the latest in scientific research.

FAMILY ALL ACCESS PASS Kids of all ages can join our Junior Space Ranger Program to learn all about new advances in space technology. View a life size replica of a German V2 rocket and real engineers' drawings of proposed spacecraft capable of rocketing a man to Mars! Be the first on your block to own a genuine Empire Bay Planetarium Junior Space Ranger pin! This month meet Clyde Tombaugh, discoverer of the newest planet, Pluto! A competition will be held to suggest an official Planetarium name for the upcoming discovery of "Planet X."

special mention: scary door

[shallowseeker]

Election: So, obviously, I am very nervous about the election. Almost every organ system that I have is affected by my illness, and one side wants to dismantle the care I deserve. So, I feel a little sick just thinking about it.

Even with COVID, I feel like my heart is finally beating right again, and I don't wanna feel nervous about having access to care, you know? Ahhh.

///

Food: I have NOT made good on my promise to myself to buy cinnamon rolls. I had wanted to eat them all while we wait together on Tuesday...

But the place I order them from is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so I missed my window to pick them up!

So tomorrow I may venture out and get either this or this

I started coughing and fevering again two days ago, but not testing positive, so if I put on the mask and am very careful, I feel like it's a reasonable errand run.

(I feel like it could be my primary illness actin' up, cause my lungs are technically already scarred even before covid. I have to go for a CXR anyway on Monday afternoon so... gonna get one of these to cook. Still gonna wash my hands and be careful. My nightmare is getting others sick, I think.)

///

Fic: I did write the first chapter of the fic I promised. It's currently hanging out on Google docs, if anyone wants to help me proofread it, but I'll post Monday warts and all. :D

It's very long, like... almosst 19K and this is just part one! Part two is currently at 15K but will need sooo much editing before it's even ready (and ofc even if the election goes south, I will definitely finish it I promise).

Blackout on the eastern seaboard Chapter one: A one-time victory celebration (DEAN POV) Ft. Dean Winchester, Castiel Still riding high on their near-fatal run-in with Raphael, Dean decides to make it up to Cas for screwing things up with Chastity. Alternate Free to Be Me and You (season 5, episode 3). Notes: In this world, John is alive. But his presence has the opposite effect than what you’d think, pushing Dean further in Castiel’s arms.

How are y'all holding up? I think maybe everyone's nervous, even and especially those of you in other countries.

[dehqpromo]

the world as we know it no longer exists… the eco-system has completely changed, thrown off and upside down from the inescapable radiation of chemical and biological weaponry. civil war broke out first, dividing the united states into three regions after years of fighting with each other. the rest of the world followed suit in a race to obtain the last of depleting resources, starting a new world war that would stretch on for years. some say the afterglow corporation, a world leader in science and technology, saw this as an opportunity to make a power grab and when they all disappeared underground one had to think that maybe there was some truth to the whispers. 

the year is 2125. with a third world war came the use of nuclear weaponry that sent the wealthiest of society underground for safety as thriving cities were leveled to irradiated heaps of ash. the eastern seaboard as it once was is no longer — instead, the coast has become home to stretches of desolate wasteland scattered with sporadic signs of survival. in rural appalachia, the woods are home to insects the size of birds and birds that just seem... off. society is restoring itself as new cities rise up from the ash, becoming home to rebellion, criminals, cultists, and normal citizens alike. all trying to survive under the watchful eye of afterglow who controls the east atlantic governance and army. abandoned mine shafts seem to carry voices like whispers on the wind. on the horizon, burnington is a glowing beacon of debauchery and corruption with a side of hope— 

welcome to wild & wonderful appalachia!

DEVILSELBOWHQ is a literate, original character roleplay based in appalachian west virginia post-apocalypse. centered around plot and character development with occasional dark and mature themes pulled from crime and horror influenced plotlines. inspiration from media / games such as︰ the last of us, fallout, the walking dead, elder scrolls, annihilation, mayans, resident evil, the stand, along with cryptozoology sources. we aim to create a safe and relaxed environment for writers and muses who are 18+ to develop plots and work together.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mark Sumner at Daily Kos:

The race to see who can demonstrate the most cartoonish level of Donald Trump cult worship is unending. It’s only been a few months since House Republicans tried to rename Dulles Airport after Trump, but that seems positively picayune when compared to the bill Rep. Greg Steube of Florida intends to introduce on Friday. Steube wants to rename the ocean after Trump. Not just one ocean, but the entire shoreline wrapping around the U.S. and covering over 4 million square miles. 

His goal is for everyone everywhere—from Maine to Florida, along the Gulf Coast, up the Western Seaboard, all around Alaska, off the islands of Hawaii, and even in Puerto Rico, Guam, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and American Samoa—to be surrounded by the Sea of Trump. All to celebrate a guy who is terrified of fish. [...] Even so, Steube is proposing a bill that aims to rename the entire 4,383,000 square miles the "Donald John Trump Exclusive Economic Zone of the United States." The bill insists that this name be used on “any applicable laws, maps, documents, and other records.” It’s not quite stamping every map with Trumplantic, Trumpacific, and Gulf of Trump … but it’s every bit as ridiculous. Like other Republican efforts to show their loyalty to Trump, this proves that there really is no limit. Now that Steube has raised the ante, stand by for the Trumpissippi River, the great state of Trumpessee, in the United States of Trump, on planet Trump, in the Trumpar System, in the outer arm of the Trumpy Way galaxy of the Trumpiverse.

The MAGA Cult comes coming up with whacko ideas, such as Rep. Greg Steube (R-FL) proposing a bill renaming the entire coastline the “Donald John Trump Exclusive Economic Zone of the United States”.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this article from DeSmog Blog:

This piece is about what we talk about when we talk about ‘climate change.’

Mostly, whether in the campaigning world or the policy world, the tech world or the business world, the everyday world or the world of international summitry, we mainly talk about cutting carbon emissions. And if we talk about impacts, we talk about the impacts of global heating, plus the impacts of the growing chaos.

But we don’t talk enough about climate impacts, our vulnerability to them, let alone how to prepare adequately for them, or to tackle them ‘upstream’ before they land or get worse. And if we talk about chaos, we virtually never talk about it in a big enough context, or in terms of its full potential dimensions.

This article is designed to start to change that situation.

The recent unprecedented worldwide epidemic of flooding, followed swiftly by the dire Los Angeles fires has woken another significant tranche of people up. Devastating climate impacts are here. Climate chaos is here. The adaptation challenge should now be getting strategic pre-eminence. That it isn’t is a key marker of how far off the pace the dominant (still decarbonisation-centric) climate narrative now is.

And the growing evidence of the true scale and nature of the coming chaos should decisively change that narrative. 

Our future is far more complex than the simple narrative of ‘global warming’ suggests, and we need to be prepared for a range of outcomes, distributed in different regions, that include both extremes of hot and cold.

Our knowledge concerning the climate is of course growing all the time. But it would be fatal hubris to assume that this means that the level of uncertainty concerning what will happen in the future is concomitantly reducing. If anything, the uncertainty surrounding our climate is growing at present, because we are finding that the Earth-system is behaving in novel (and dangerous) ways as it moves literally into Terra Incognita that we didn’t fully anticipate; and because the destabilisation of our climate is having some very counter-intuitive effects.

Our actions have inadvertently created a hot new world that is more and more difficult to understand, let alone predict, let alone ‘control’.

In short, the uncertainty surrounding our climate is growing, and with it, the probability that countries such as Britain and (the eastern seaboard especially of) the United States (like other countries bordering the north Atlantic) might face a future that’s not just hotter, but ironically also (before long) colder. 

Why? Because of the escalating Arctic ice-melt, which could lead the North Atlantic Gyre ocean current system, and perhaps the larger system known as the ‘Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation’ [AMOC], to slow, or even stop. These alarming, growing possibilities have entered the media recently; but they’re yet to be absorbed into the vast majority of climate campaigning, preparedness, and policy. 

[guerrerense]

Nesquehoning Surprise por David Blazejewski Por Flickr: How about F Unit Friday take two. This was from my fall trip out to Jim Thorpe and frankly I'm shocked I got this. This spot is only a mile west (railroad south) of this shot that I shared earlier: flic.kr/p/2qqFaWAI had scoped it earlier in the day and had cur down some trees and brush and marked exactly where to park so after getting that earlier shot I hustled right here and to my pleasant surprise pulled it off! Reading and Northern train JTOS (Jim Thorpe to Reading Outer Station) has 10 cars trailing three diesels all dressed in the Fast Freight scheme. Leading the way are RBMN 270 (rebuilt F9A ex NS 4270, originally blt. Jan. 1952 as an F7A for the Baltimore and Ohio as BO 937) and 275 (a rebuilt F7B ex NS 4275 originally blt. Oct. 1950 for the Chicago Great Western as CGW 113D). Both were rebuilt to GP38-2 standards by Norfolk Southern in 2006 and along with another A and B unit the four unit ABBA set spent a dozen years leading NS executive trains system wide until November 2019 when Norfolk Southern divested their executive office car power and the RBMN won these two at auction. Trailing the pair of streamlines is RBMN 5019, a rebuilt SD50-2 acquired from CSXT that was originally blt. Mar. 1984 as Seaboard System 8550. They are charging thru a colorful tree tunnel at about MP 116 on the modern day RBMN's Reading Division mainline, a former Central Railroad of New Jersey Railroad branch built in 1870 as the Nesquehoning Valley Railroad Company. Nesquehoning, Pennsylvania Saturday September 5, 2024