#Modern Food Processing Machine

[frymode-food-equipment]

In the fast-paced world of food production, efficiency, safety, and quality are paramount. One of the key components that help manufacturers achieve these goals is food processing equipment. These machines are designed to handle a variety of tasks in the production process, ensuring that food products are produced quickly, consistently, and safely.

[theskinscanapp]

The Skin Scan App Ever scan a QR code? The Skin Scan App scans, photographs then identifies lesions and other common conditions on human skin. The app then recommends treatments, cures, as well as local doctors and dermatologist. #tech #app https://gofund.me/31d4f6b4

[4rticbolt]

Card DECLINED |Master-List|

Monster Trio+Law x Reader, crack, fluff, modern-au, everyone’s poor.

!Established-Relationship!

Summary: They take you on a date, and their card declines. Head-cannons/Drabble. A/N: Rewritten version! I may or may not have been satisfied with the original—so here you go >:). Word Count: 1,465 words - 364 each

•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-••-•-•-•-•

Luffy

* All of his money? 100% spent on fast-food. He holds a Guinness World Record for the most food eaten—period.

* You’re date’s most likely in a thrift store, having a competition to see who could find the coolest thing. Naturally, Luffy found an item that wasn’t even for sale… and you found something weirdly cheap.

* So, as you placed your trinket of the counter—he offered to pay. Which of course backfired.

“Oh, here—wait! I’ll get that for you.”

“Are you sure? It’s only a few bucks Luffy, I don’t mind.”

“Nope! I pay. My treat.”

* As soon as he checked the card—it didn’t go through. He was incredibly confused, jamming it back in atleast another 20 times.

* “Hey, why’s it not working?! Mr—I think your machines broken!”

* “No… sir, that’s your card. It says insufficient funds...”

* “Huh?”

* It’ll take a moment. Let him process.

* But as soon as it does, he’d apologize and laugh it off. A tad embarrassed, a little pink—but more blaming his card than anything.

* He’d judge it to bits, laughing casually as he slammed it back in his shabby wallet.

* “…Thanks a lot, I was supposed to make a good impression!”

* (As if it was the cards fault. Much less a 10 dollar ring.)

* You’d pay, and he’d go about your date like nothing happened. Which consisted of walking around town, meeting up with friends—getting into trouble, yk— the normal.

* But when you’re distracted—walking up ahead, he’d hit Nami up for a quick Venmo. Which she’d automatically decline.

* So, finding a few crumpled bucks on the ground, he substituted it for something very… Luffy.

* He dragged you into another random store, sneaking off to find something while you were left to your devices.

* Luff ended up getting a cute little hot wheels for free, of course out of pity from the cashier. (Which he was oblivious to.)

* “Is this for your girl?”

* “Shishi, yep! She’s awesome, I just wanted to get her something.”

* (Initiate awkward pause.)

* “Uh-huh.” the cashier slides it back, plopping it in his hand. “For free.”

* “Wait—really?? You’re awesome—thanks, I owe you!”

* “Oh, it’s fine. Just a few bucks.”

* (Money doesn’t have meaning to Luffy. Only actions, kindness, and food.)

* Later, walking you home, he giddily hugged from behind, kissing your cheek with glowing excitement.

* "Here, look at what I got it! Awesome right?”

* “Aww… wait, it’s actually kinda cute.”

* You ended up putting it on your shelf to cherish it.

Zoro:

* Sake and horrible money management was his downfall. He’s minimalistic, but his alcohol sure wasn’t.

* Regardless, you’d think Zoro’s love for booze was a turn off, but he was a responsible drinker and never put you in danger.

* Besides, he didn’t get drunk easy. And on rare occasions he’d ease up into your arms.

* On his date, he’d had taken you out for drinks, and for the first time in awhile he actually paid… though it didn’t go through.

* Much like Luffy—he’d try again, not confused, but out of sheer will it’d work. When the bartender told him there were “insufficient funds,” he’d be in denial, blushing beet red.

* “I don't know what you're talking about, it's gotta be your damn machine..."

* Nope. Not slick. Not at all.

* Royally, he knew he’d fucked up. Because what kinda guy doesn’t pay for the drinks on a date—HE invited them too?!’

* With a casual shrug, you passed the money over—dousing his worries.

* “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

* Yeah. Zoro knew why he liked you. He was relieved, and ever so grateful—he just didn’t know how to show it.

* “Oi, You didn't have to do that..."

* “I really did, what else were you gonna pay with?”

* An hour or so later, he’d drove you safely home, and the whole thing had been forgotten about. Which was much preferred.

* Zoro wouldn’t pay you back immediately, but when he did… It was in his own sweet chaotic way.

* After work, he’d stopped by your house with dinner. However, you’d just gotten out of the shower in a towel—making him even more flustered.

* (Zoro never did well with thanks.)

* “Hey uh, hi…” his stifled a cough, eyes trailing.

* “Zoro—woah! Hello! What are you doing here?”

* “Yeah—sorry. I know. I didn’t call. I just thought I’d just drop by with dinner, Sanji made extra. And I know you like his cooking.”

* “Oh—that’s… really sweet. Actually, thank you. Would you like to come in? Here, let me just go get dressed—“

* (For the rest of that night, Zoro couldn’t get that image of you out of his mind. Under his calm demeanor, he was worked up more than he’d admit.)

Sanji:

* I physically cannot see this man's card declining, so he’d probably used the wrong one...

* Anyway—for the sake of this head-cannon: he’d taken you out to dinner, enjoying a romantic ocean view… and when it happened. Oh. It happened.

* His freak out would be subtle, but there would be signs. He’d be subconsciously tapping his arm, mind blank with anxiety as the waiter told him it wouldn’t go through.

* “I’m sorry, what?” (He’d be in definite denial.)

* However, as soon as you offered to pay—he’d shut it down. Sanji wouldn’t dare let you pay for this, let alone a dinner he’d taken you too. He spoiled you like no other—so forget asking.

* “No—no, it’s alright sweetheart. I have everything handled.”

* (He didn’t, but he’ll act like he does.)

* Sanji believes in women putting their feet up, so he’d rather search the floors for pennies.

* However, after some reassurance and his inability to pay, he’d give in.

* “Sanji, it’s okay. If it means that much to you, you can just pay me back. Don’t worry.”

* He would worry, and he’d pay you back extra. From bouquets, to chocolates, and a home-made fancy dinner—hed go overboard.

* (But when does he not?)

* You’d would think it was overkill—as it was. But to him, that kinda thing is something he’d do on a daily basis. Any sliver of kindness given, he’d soak up like a sponge and reciprocat it tenfold.

* He was a believer of princess treatment.

* “Mon Amour, thank you for the other night. And thank you for joining me for dinner, it meant the world.“

* “I am so very lucky to have you, Mon chéri—here, I got you these…”

* (Cue the nosy neighbor watching him kneel in-front of you like he’s proposing.)

* Newsflash, he’s not. He just has a big heart.

* “Oh—Sanji, thank you… this is uh—a lot. Not complaining, I love it, I just—I wasn’t expecting you tonight—“

* (You’d be momentarily stunned, because what kinda guy does this? You’re not complaining, but you’re definitely cautious.)

Law:

* Law’s a somewhat responsible colledge student who’s learning to be a surgeon, so this? Would be detrimental to his ego and dignity.

* This happened once, and only once. NEVER again.

* He’s a total fanboy, and is a sucker for action figures + comics and mangas—which isn’t cheap. So… you can assume where this is going.

* It was the end of semester, and he took you out to lunch unaware of the tuition fees that clashed with a figurine he bought.

* He took you out for lunch, finally having some free time, but realizing too late what had happened.

* The waiter had handed him back his card and he stilled, before telling them to try it again. It didn’t make a difference, and the chick told him flat out he needed a different form of payment…

* Law would loathe the moment, feeling second-hand embarrassment for miles.

* However, as you overheard and offered to pay—just happy to be there with him… his expression darkened. Broodingly.

“It’s alright. I have cash.” Law’s voice was strained, grumbling. Wishing it happened any other time than this.

* He would pay, and you would would up going to his house to hang out; binge watching horror movies… which he was strangely interested in.

* Yet you were absolutely terrified of, much to his amusement. He cracked a smile watching you hide in his shoulder as the movie progressed, too afraid of the rising tension.

* (You ended up watching some stupid cartoon to the brighten the night)

* Ultimately, Law would forever remember that date, watching his guilty spending habits with a sour expression.

* The possibility of that happening again kept him up at night.

* It would stick with him, but what lingered more was your unhesitant reaction. He hadn’t seen you that happy in awhile, even something as simple at lunch.

* As you lay in his arms, his mind would travel over these things—tenderly brushing your hair back.

* Yes, he was a busy person, but he could always make time. Every minute with you mattered, and he missed you just as much in moments like these.

[apas-95]

What do you think is the best/most efficient/least environmentally damaging way to feed the entire population of the world if we had global communism or whatever

Heavy industry.

Currently, the issue is this -- there is a limited amount of land and water available at any given time. Our food production all, ultimately, depends on plants. Either we eat plants directly, or we grow plants to feed to animals we then eat.

With this in mind, it is clear that industrial animal agriculture has inherent inefficiencies. A cow that eats soybeans and cornfeed is using over 90% of its energy to heat its body, and of the remaining portion, much goes to locomotion, thinking, etc. It is genuinely, within our agricultural system, a massive waste that a battery chicken is born with legs and a brain. In the wild, these would pay for themselves -- a chicken uses its legs and brain to hunt for worms and seeds, the cow stays warm to forage for grass.

Clearly, here, plants are more efficient: you can either grow one acre of soybeans and process them into a dozen impossible whoppers; or you can grow a hundred acres of soybeans, feed them to a cow, and then process that cow into a dozen possible whoppers. This was not always possible -- historically, there were nutrients and structures that could not be found other than from animal tissue, because animals are very complex machines, and this was a good source -- but through modern technology, it is now feasible.

The next step after this, in a hypothetical global communism, is to jump over the inefficiencies of plants themselves, and begin producing food directly. We are already able to synthesise basic starch directly from CO2, in a process several-fold more efficient than that carried out by plants. Our technological level is not there yet, but if it arrives there, we would have achieved the smallest possible footprint for our food production, one that wouldn't even neccesarily have to pollute and occupy Earth itself.

Thanks for writing in!

[exhaled-spirals]

« This is what happens when we allow so many of our previously private actions to be enclosed by corporate tech platforms whose founders said they were about connecting us but were always about extracting from us. The process of enclosure, of carrying out our activities within these private platforms, changes us, including how we relate to one another and the underlying purpose of those relations. This goes back to early forms of enclosure, beginning in the Middle Ages. When common lands in England were transformed into privately held commodities surrounded by hedges and fences, the land became something else: its role was no longer to benefit the community—with shared access to communal grazing, food, and firewood—but to increase crop yields and therefore profits for individual landowners. Once physically and legally enclosed, the soil began to be treated as a machine, whose role was to be as productive as possible.

So, too, with our online activities, where our relationships and conversations are our modern-day yields, designed to harvest ever more data. As with corn and soy grown in great monocrops, quality and individuality are sacrificed in favor of standardization and homogenization, even when homogenization takes the form of individuals all competing to stand out as quirky and utterly unique. This is why The Matrix and its sequels have proved such enduring metaphorical landscapes for understanding the digital age: it’s not just the red pills and blue pills. In The Matrix, humans, living their lives in synthetic pods, are mere food for machines. Many of us suspect that we, too, have become machine food.

And, in a way, we have. As Richard Seymour writes in his blistering 2019 dissection of social media, The Twittering Machine, we think we are interacting—writing and singing and dancing and talking— with one another, “our friends, professional colleagues, celebrities, politicians, royals, terrorists, porn actors—anyone we like. We are not interacting with them, however, but with the machine. We write to it, and it passes on the message for us, after keeping a record of the data.” »

— Naomi Klein, Doppelganger

[a-minke-whales-tale]

Life in a Tank

I often like to imagine how my life back in the water would be.

I know in many ways my life will be entirely unrecognisable to how I live now. Much of my days will be spent swimming in a circle, whichever direction or pattern I happen to decide (which will probably be clockwise just given how I tend to swim around pools), confined to a fairly small pool (though even 15-25 meters of most tanks is plenty comfortable). Even in the suit I will experience many things as any other whale would like interacting with my trainers to check the suit and for feeding. Hopefully I would have some bits of interacting and enrichment. I would really like to have a window in my tank to look through to watch the humans and it would as well be nice to be with other cetaceans, whether those are my podmates or cetaceans that did not have -this- done to them. But still if the humans did not want me out publicly and kept me in a separate tank in the back I would be okay with that as well, though then I would probably require a bit more enrichment from my humans. If the humans wanted me to perform for them I think I would really enjoy that process, both the training and the shows and it would certainly give me something to do.

There are certainly things I will gain, namely that I will have my body back and see and experience the world as a whale and interact with others as a whale. Human life and the human world, at least in modern times and where I live, can certainly be said to be both stimulating and comfortable, though stressful. I would of course lose my various human luxuries, the soft bed on which I sleep and the warm blankets I wrap myself in, the seemingly endless supply of entertainment, and the humans' tasty food, and the ability to simply wander wherever if I fancy. The amount of stimulation in the human world is overwhelming though and I use it heavily to distract from the pain of human life. I may not lay in a normal bed, but I may have a mat to sleep on in my tank or have the water simply surround me floating. And though I will miss many of the humans' tasty foods, in truth I already can have so few of them and steadily eat a more cetacean diet. And though I have been walking much more lately, I cannot say I have so much wanderlust.

There are some things I would lose that really could not be mitigated, I would lose the work that has occupied so much of my life, and even if it was forced to me, it still carries quite a bit of joy, but more importantly I would lose the connection with my family and friends. I think they could accept my returning to the water even if they could not understand, my mother in particular as she does know of at least some of the whale things and my hopes to swim again, though perhaps not the extent. I am fortunate the humans I was assigned to have been extremely kind to me. I would miss them very much, and I am sure they would miss me even more. If I were on display maybe sometimes they could come to the marine park and watch me perform and swim around. I hope they would see that I was happy and comfortable and free as I can be in this life under the humans, and I hope that would make them happy to know I am okay. I would miss them very much.

And yet for how radically different my life would be, very many things would be the same. I will still have periods of being bored as I swim around, I will still have points I will become agitated or frustrated, and I will still have moments of joy shared with others, be they human, or cetacean. I would still have to obey my humans though now in more cetacean ways instead of as a machine to design things for them, and perhaps if I am lucky I can at times have some ability to say no. I will have others that I form bonds with and I will still have sadness and confusion when one disappears and I do not understand why.

I think I would be happy in that life. I wish to live and be treated as any other captive cetacean, for better and for worse. There are very many comforts I would give up returning to the water, but still what I gain would be so much more. I would be me again, and though I will always be captive to the humans, in that tank I would be free. I do not think I have illusions of how tank life will be, and that first bit settling it away from the constant stimulation and comfort of the human world will be difficult, but that I still pursue it anyway and want to return to the water does give me more assuredness in what I am as to most people my hopes and desires are unfathomable. But someday, I will swim again, forever.

Ik worstel en ik kom boven. Zwem ver, zwem vrij, kleine walvis, zwem voor altijd.

~ Kala

[kotoryba]

#I have an idea but no time: what if "cultivation" in MDZS world really means... "farming"?

Based on this post: @dramatic-dolphin , I think you view things in the right direction! 😁❤️

Modern AU, where five powerful agricultural corporations practically rule the life of the country, dividing the workforce and resources for the best food production:

Cloud Recesses Inc. in Gusu — organic vegetables, strictly no pesticides, no chemical fertilisers; only straw mulching, complementary crops, attracting of natural predators for pests (ladybugs and other entomophagous predators), natural irrigation etc. Centuries-long history of family business, no outside high-level management at all. Organised the famous agricultural academy, where share the knowledge about organic farming.

Lotus Cove Company in Yunmeng — fisheries, lotus growing, for seeds, roots and making the dyes (famous "Yunmeng Lotus Purple), river pearls and others; the company unites many small local farms and proposes them the processing and manufacturing of finished products and logistics. Regular searches of new initiative talents for company from local residents, but they keep the controlling stake in the main family.

Jin Golden Carp Corp. in Lanling - floristic and orchard business, have huge greenhouses with exotic fruits; M&A the lands from small landlords and enterprises by cheap prices and in general lead the tons of leasing and funding financial operations. Not clean reputation, but the huge PR&GR and legal departments helps with this a lot.

Butcher's Saber Ent. in Qinghe — meat and dairy production mostly. They propose the best salaries on local workforce market and due to that acquire a strong loyalty among the residents — but have severe corporation policies about the industrial espionage and thefts . And also BS Ent. has the strictest (except Cloud Recesses Inc.) safety standards for all product cycle.

Wen LLC in Qishan — broiler poultry farming, second big competitor of meat production after BS Ent. in region; breeding of new sorts and seed selling business (here we have uncontrollable usage of GMO, chemicals and pharmaceutical products, but all experiments keeps in secret from public). Due to the excessive usage of pesticides and fertilisation, they faced with pollution and soil depletion, therefore actively expanding their cultivation areas by raider attacks and property fraud. Payed the good salaries but have a catastrophic penalty system for keeping the mouths shut, but you must be Wen for obtaining even the middle management position.

Maybe the story begins, where the prominent student WWX (who thinks about agricultural technologies in non-traditional way, for example — builds robots and automatisation programs for harvesters machines, searches the solutions in nano-biology and something similar) entered the Gusu Lan academy as a part of sharing experience delegation from Lotus Cove.

Or from the moment, when Wens decided to attack their competitors, using the false accusations about owners, cyberattacks, sabotage and brute force?

Or when the little WWX's innovative company in the most infertile lands of Burial Mounds became way too bottleneck due to progressive researches of someone's brilliant mind, that the other big corporations collectively decided to wip the unwanted competitor from the market at all?

Maybe in the classic way, when WWX, who was in a coma for thirteen years after a huge fire in his laboratory, received the organ transplant and new face from unknown beneficiary — and waked up? With clear suspicions who was really behind this incident that also killed his shijie and her husband? Now he's unrecognisable for his friends and enemies and can investigate the case freely. Maybe, the little help from LWJ, the second heir of Cloud Recesses Inc., could be useful? They were just-step-before-good-friends in his previous life...

Do you know, guys, that there are real wars in agricultural business nowadays? Maybe, they are even more dangerous, than in imaginary magical world of jianhu...

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I'm sorry that you're going through this. It sounds terrible.

How does a machine make your bones feel like jam? What do you mean, "like jam"? What helps while you're in the machine?

You lamented the lack of a "no downers" Tumblr option before. Is there any kind of fun internet thing your followers could curate for you?

thank you for actually asking me about the Big Machine

so a modern radiation therapy machine looks like this:

It is actually kind of hard to communicate the scale of this thing. It's the size of most people's living rooms, and the whole thing rotates around you. You feel like you're trying to dock with the international space station.

Actually being in the machine doesn't feel like anything. You lay down, they take your boob out of your hospital gown and align the lasers to these little tattoos they've put on your chest and sides, they leave the room, Vivaldi plays for about 5 minutes while things beep and buzz and the space station revolves a few times, and then you're free to get dressed and go home.

Then - in my experience, as someone who is, apparently, "a real outlier" in terms of how sensitive I am to radiation - about 30 minutes later, on the subway ride home, you start to feel extremely bad. Shaky, weak, exhausted, stabbing pains all over the boob, and just an overall feeling of, like...internal griminess. Like there's grit gumming up everything on your insides. You feel wobbly, like your bones have turned to jelly. It feels a little like food poisoning, but without the nausea, if you've ever had that experience. Just that jittery, feverish, whole-body feeling of something being very wrong.

That feeling persists for 4-5 hours, then starts to taper down; but it never tapers down completely, so every day (and you go in for radiation every day, except for weekends) it builds up a little bit more. So on Monday, you feel like shit for a couple of hours, but you shake it off by dinner time; but by Friday, you're dragging yourself through every step of the process and then you get home and pass out for 14 hours.

It's weird, too, because it's not like there's anything that the doctors can do to make it better. Like, they can't give you a different treatment, or give you less radiation. There's a set amount of radiation you need to receive over a set amount of time to be sure that they've killed all the cancer, and the alternative to radiation is cancer, so you're getting radiation. The radiologist was sympathetic to how hard I've been taking it, but all she could really do is remind me that it's temporary. All of the effects of the radiation will be out of my system a week or two after the treatment ends, so like. Knuckle down, camper, it is what it is.

Y'all are sweet to ask if there's anything you can do, but honestly, not really. I vent a bit about this stuff on Tumblr because I don't want my friends and family to have to hear about how tough this is. Sending the occasional nice message or little question is appreciated! It gives me something to think about that isn't cancer.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

What do you think about Catherine's general approach to royal life? What are the things she's done well and can do better?

For the most part, Kate adapted well and she has a good strategy for royalling.

The only thing she can better (and the only thing she should have done differently) is work. There needs to be more. Point blank. Bar none.

But it’s a tough line to straddle. For instance, consider all these "buts" to Kate's workload:

She didn’t need to churn out Anne and Charles numbers, but she should’ve been within a football kick’s distance of Sophie’s numbers. But at the same time, she can’t really outwork her husband, the actual blood royal, who wasn’t really doing much royal work in the first place because he was a SAR pilot, first in Wales and then in East Anglia.

But also, that overlapped with being pregnant and having babies and toddlers. And, well, Kate’s only constitutional role (if we can even call it that) is to produce heir and spare for the monarchy’s future...so technically her job is to make those babies and ensure they grow up to adulthood.

But also, modern society has been trained to expect a certain level and standard of work for individuals in the royal family.

But also, modern society has developed this requirement that the only work that matters by individuals in the royal family is the work that they do in the public arena and nothing else counts.

So respecting that Kate wants to stay home and raise her children, and all these other "buts", how does she do more work?

Option 1 is to aim for quantity - pick up more public engagements. The kids are in school now. There's no reason why Kate can't have a public engagement three days a week in something like a 1:2 schedule - where one of her workdays aims for quality (e.g. an hours-long focused visit that she prefers or an away day) and the other two workdays are smaller, shorter more bread-and-butter type engagements.

Option 2, if she prefers to stay close to home, then she needs to peel the curtain back on her work and let us see all the behind-the-scenes stuff she's doing to prepare for, or in addition to, the public engagements. Because there's a lot of it that we do not see.

I’ll use my line of work as a fed for an example - when you think of “federal spending,” you probably think of things like FBI investigations, social security checks, taxes, TSA airport security, food inspectors. That’s the “front line” of federal spending. But behind all of those people are a crapton of other people and spending that make sure those front-line employees have what they need to do their jobs. For example - that FBI agent needs someone to process their timecards so they can get paid, pay the electric bill for their office so they have a place to work, maintain their company-owned vehicle so they can go where they need to during investigations, train them on gun safety, maintain their IT and fix problems with their computers, collect and process evidence, write and issue subpoenas, research case law, file their case paperwork, make sure the toilets work in their office buildings and they have drinkable water, collect their trash, ensure the locks work on their evidence storage so no one can tamper with it, make sure their gun and ammo storage is in secure access-restricted facilities, buy them new furniture when their chairs break, get them new badges and safety equipment, etc.

In other words, the average American citizen only sees Agent Seeley Booth driving around DC in his black SUV. They don't see, or comprehend, the entire machine that makes it so Agent Booth can even sit in that car in the first place.

And that's kinda what's going on with Kate and royalling. There’s a lot of boring, dry pieces going into Kate’s public engagements that we don’t see and if she just peeled the curtain back so we could see what she’s doing - the calls she has with her patronages, the reports she reads, the meetings she has, the letters she writes - then her workload increases significantly, all without leaving the comforts of Adelaide Cottage. The problem here though is that KP needs to show us that this is happening, instead of just telling us that it's happening. That's videos, press releases, photographs, Court Circular reports.

To use the US for another example - there's a reason why Trump is always having press conferences and photocalls in the Oval Office; it's to show that he's working. I'm not saying KP needs to schedule daily press conferences for Kate at Windsor Castle, but they do need to show her working more. Use the red box strategy (which KP was doing during early pandemic days) of releasing photos of Kate working from her home office.

Option 3 - if it's really a matter of Kate not wanting to be far from home because of the kids, then add virtual events back to her diary. I know, virtual events aren't the same as in-person events, but that's the point: virtual events eliminate long-distance travel and increase her flexibility. So for example, she can Zoom with Welsh Guards deployed abroad or military families who live overseas or meet with Commonwealth baby banks to learn about their mission and then follow up with in-person events when they're traveling again. Those kind of events can also build continuity and create opportunity for when she's traveling again because she'll have already made those connections.

Or restrict her public appearances to the local Berkshire area and pack her schedule with bread-and-butter work - local charities, local hospitals, local garden shops, local tourism sites, local nursing homes, local police, local museums, local art studios, local families, local military, local schools - but therein is the problem. KP's strategic plan involves mapping William and Kate's work exclusively to their signature charitable priorities; mental health, early years, and conservation. They want everything to connect to that work in the Royal Foundation that they exclude, and eschew, everything else. Detrimentally so, at times.

Option 4, if Kate doesn't really want to work, then fine. She doesn't have to work. Her constitutional role is to make sure those babies grow up. But then stop wearing new clothes when she does make public appearances and start recycling her wardrobe. Stop telling us she's working oh-so-hard from home. Stop telling us she's "keen" to do all these things.

But there's a lot more insofar as "work" that Kate can, and should, be doing now. There are ways to boost her workload without having to sacrifice, or compromise, the time with her family and it's kind of...mindnumbing, a little, how much KP refuses to adapt their workplans as the kids' needs evolve. The kids right now are 12, 9, and 7 but the way KP carries on about it, you'd think they're still 3, 2, and 1. And unfortunately, that's establishing an expectation that KP will still be planning William and Kate's work around the kids needing them when the kids are away at college.

[beardedmrbean]

During the summer of 2020, I worked as a consultant for multiple progressive DA candidates backed by George Soros and his foundation. In the places where they won, these DAs have since done immeasurable damage to the local communities. They failed to prosecute offenders, especially surrounding drug use and distribution, and allowed crime to run rampant, hurting communities of color the most—the very people they were supposedly trying to help.

Far from progressive, these Soros-backed DAs did more to hurt progressives than anything the Right has managed; to everyday Americans, the term "progressive" now conjures up images of fentanyl overdoses, crime, defecation in the streets, and riots.

I feel remorse for the work I did on these campaigns. The Soros money that was contributed to progressive DA races would have been better spent on supportive housing, mental health services, and recovery programs. Police need resources to arrest and imprison drug dealers and end open-air drug use. This is just common sense.

Unfortunately, the Soroses are just the tip of the iceberg.

I spent years fundraising for Democrats. I raised millions of dollars. And in the process, I routinely saw and heard about inappropriate relationships between donors and candidates that would bust anyone's bubble about the independence of our leaders. There is an entire donor ecosystem working against the interests of regular Americans—and it's the one top Democrats are swimming in.

Consider the long-time friendship between Kamala Harris and billionaire donor Laurene Powell Jobs, the widow of Steve Jobs. The New York Times described the women as being so close that they've gone on vacation together and consider each other family. Powell Jobs sat in Harris' exclusive friends and family suite at the DNC last month. She was also instrumental in getting Biden to step down to clear the way for Harris; one of her top aides circulated a polling memo to other key influential donors that allegedly showed Biden's inability to win.

It was another example of a megadonor overcoming the will of the people—and making things worse for voters. Now that the Kool-Aid from the DNC is wearing off, people are waking up to the realities of an untested candidate. Harris is barely beating Biden in key swing state polls, dodges questions from the press, and continually gaffes answers on significant policy issues. She can barely answer basic questions about her plans for regular people in friendly encounters with people like Oprah.

This is what happens when a candidate is anointed by donors and not selected by voters.

Or take Reid Hoffman, co-founder of LinkedIn. He is a megadonor—a "big fish" as we would call him behind the scenes—and is expected to spend up to $100 million to ensure that Vice President Kamala Harris beats former President Donald Trump in the presidential election. But Hoffman has an agenda: He has publicly called for the resignation of FTC Chairwoman Lina Khan, who Hoffman said is "at war with American business."

The reality is somewhat different: Khan has been one of the only lifelines for working people in the modern Democratic machine. She stood up for workers' rights by banning non-compete agreements and led efforts to block major mergers of grocery stores like the Kroger-Albertsons, which would have resulted in higher food prices and hurt union workers.

If Hoffman is successful in his public campaign to replace Khan, he will further cement the Democrats as the party of the wealthy, the powerful, and corporate elite. I won't be surprised when he gets the job done.

Another name I've seen pop up many times in my years fundraising for progressive candidates is the San Francisco based Democratic donor and influencer Steve Phillips. Phillips has written books that focus heavily on the importance of race in politics, with titles like Brown Is the New White: How the Demographic Revolution Has Created a New American Majority and How We Win the Civil War: Securing a Multiracial Democracy and Ending White Supremacy for Good.

Yet, Donald Trump is on track to secure more support from minority voters, especially Black men, than any other Republican in generations. It's becoming increasingly clear that the real divide is the one separating the college educated from the working class of all races. But Phillips and others like him continue to focus exclusively on race—and you can see the direct impact this has on Democratic politicians, who talk much more about things like "equity" than they do about the class divide.

It's out of touch with the pulse of the country and deeply alienating to working-class voters who were once stalwart Democrats.

Unfortunately, the Democrats aren't getting the message. Last week, Alexander Soros posted images at his opulent New York mansion on X with Harris' VP pick, Tim Walz.

Is this how you convince people you're the party of the people? By posing with a billionaire nepo baby while Americans struggle to pay for groceries?

Some Democrats surely know how damaging such a photo is to their flailing brand. But Soros has so much power and influence that no one would dare tell him to take the photo down.

Internally, the Democrats know that like the photo of Walz with Alex Sorors, the Soros-funded criminal justice policies have been an embarrassing failure from an outcome, messaging, and public perception standpoint. They also know that Reid Hoffman and Laurene Powell Jobs do not have the best interests of regular Americans at heart—but they will continue to cower to them anyway.

Forget "Kamala is Brat" or the "Joy!" campaign. The image of Soros with Walz perfectly encapsulates the Democrats' real vibe these days—the unfettered influence the donors have over this party and the lives they've destroyed in the process.

[persephinae]

OK SO - SUPPLYCHAIN!!

Supply Chain is what happens in modern society when you want to get your goods to market.

It's not just the factory, it's the people assembling it, it's the people packaging it, it's the people shipping it, it's the people selling it, it's the people marketing it, it's the people stocking it on shelves.

it's the people that created the programs you would use to track everything: your supply, your demand, your shipping, your orders, your invoicing, your accounting.

it's the people that manage inventory, it's the people that manage parts for repairs in any part of this process.

Supply Chain is a web that really factually covers the globe and is interconnected to every port.

Supply Chain is studying the process of how we create things, how we package things, how we ship things, and how we can improve processes.

Supply Chain when done right is seamless, no missed deliveries, no missing stock, customer can grab the item right off the shelf - from widgets to food.

Supply Chain is people, and when you lose sight of that the whole thing comes toppling down. It's many hands assembling not only the product, but the machines that make the product, the trucks and ships that ship the product.

I talked so much i had to convert the audio file to a video (excerpt from my earlier Night Watch post)

Little wheels must spin so that the machine can turn.

[kittynugg]

chapter 2 of A Little Dilemma is out!

<- prev . . . 2 . . . next ->

words: 2,872

(also hey maybe reblog this if you like it :> just sayin it helps me spread my words to the world)

Ford limped into the kitchen with a heaved sigh, flanked of course by a panicked Soos.

“Dude, I’m just saying, but when you just poof into a little baby I promise me and Mister Pines are gonna take care of you,” assured the well-meaning man who just happened to be pushing every button Ford had.

He jerked open the fridge, casting a “I could kill you in fifty different ways and hide your body in twice as many places at the same time” glare at Soos who still didn’t get the message, and took out a can of soda. “You’ve said that eleven times in the past fifteen minutes.”

And this had been going on for two hours. Two. Hours.

He bumped the fridge shut with his elbow and hobbled past Soos. Unsurprisingly, he followed him all the way to the couch, the place he’d been for most of the day. And Soos, Soos had been there most of the day as well. Waiting for something to happen. He’d even closed down the shack for the day! ..Honestly Ford didn’t mind that, that just meant he didn’t have to explain “yes, I do have a laboratory in my basement which is accessible via this vending machine but that’s none of your business” to six different tourists.

But he did mind Soos breathing down his neck when he was just trying to drink some damned Pitt!

He settled down on the couch again, remote in-hand, (character development!) and turned up the volume to drown out Soos’ continued reassurances. He’d actually made a game out of the infomercials, and hence had decided to keep them on. The goal was to guess what they were advertising before it was outright said.

“ARE YOU TIRED OF THE CRUSHING WEIGHT OF EXISTENCE CONSTANTLY BORING DOWN ON YOU!?” The TV crackled.

..What was this one? Prozac?

“COME TO MAMA MISFORTUNE’S TRAVELING CARNIVAL, IN GRAVITY FALLS UNTIL MONTH’S END! THE PERFECT DISTRACTION FROM YOUR MODERN WOES!” 

Oh. The fair. Well, now that he knew he’d already been there the ad was just annoying, so he changed the channel. A documentary about how jellybeans were made came on by chance.

Now that was something he could ignore both Soos and the crushing weight of existence with.

And ignore, he did. 

It was fascinating, apparently Jelly Belly used natural ingredients whenever possible! So.. Hey, wasn’t there a dog food one? And.. barf?

He chose not to think about that. But the process was a marvel! First they poured a slurry of corn syrup, sugar, corn starch and “do you feel any younger yet Mister–”

“Soos!” Barked Ford, whipping in Soos’ direction. “Can you please let me enjoy my mindless entertainment in peace!?” He slapped a hand to his face.

Soos, of course, decided to act like a confused puppy about it! His shoulder hunched and he took a couple of steps back. “I was just tryna make sure you’re okay, dawg..”

Okay, he was done with this!

“It is tap water,” he sighed shakily. “I’ve found the actual fountain of youth. Trust me when I say that that vial has never gone near it.” A circular gesture was made with his finger vaguely near Soos’ pocket where he believed the vial to be. “I am.. Getting close to begging here.” And he was not going to let Soos push him to that point!

It actually looked like at least one neuron fired in Soos’ brain, and a faint smile spread across his face. “You’re sure, dude?” Hearing him not immediately reject Ford’s assurance was like a breath of fresh air. Ford nodded frantically.

“Yes! One hundred percent sure! Nothing is going to come of this, I promise.”

“But what if there’s, like, a tap of youth?”

That one made him do a double-take. Surely that singular functional braincell Soos had was trying its best, h– okay maybe he was being a little harsh now. He mentally vowed to stop insulting Soos. “There is no tap of youth, Soos.” He answered simply, then took a deep breath. In quickly, out slowly. Activate that parasympathetic nervous system before you have a heart attack. “Satisfied?”

“Alright, dawg, I trust you. You’re, like, the smartest dude I know anyway!” Soos chortled, facepalming. That was.. Surprisingly easy. “Dude, I don’t even know why I was so worried. Gonna start sounding like you or Dipper soon. No offense, dude.”

STOP SAYING “DUDE” IN EVERY SENTEN- 

Ford sighed. “Oh, none taken. I know we can be awfully paranoid.” Keep the peace, Stanford, you just got him to potentially leave you alone. “Speaking of which, have you seen him and Mabel?” A glance around returned no information. Wonderful.

“They just went in the kitchen! Hey, are you starting to smell smoke too or is it just me? ..Because I do this weird thing sometimes where I just smell smoke out of nowhere.. Is that some creepy paranormal thing?” Soos wiggled his fingers for emphasis, and Ford’s expression blanked at the sight of smoke starting to waft from the kitchen. “I’unno, dude, kinda suspicious.. And are you seeing that smoke comin’ out of the kitchen? Crazy coinciden-”

He was cut short by Ford jumping to his feet and sprinting into the kitchen. Dipper and Mabel were there, alright, coughing and frantically fanning at the smoke billowing from a pot on the stove. Because stars forbid he sat down for five minutes without something happening. On a habit he couldn’t remember building but couldn’t remember not having, his eyes scanned them for any injuries. 

They were fine at first glance (incredibly scrutinizing stare, actually), but sort of just stared back at him with the wide eyes of a couple of kids who had been caught. Dipper froze mid-panic, then slowly turned to Mabel. “..who’s taking the fall this time,” he whispered as if Ford wasn’t right there.

“I call not it.” Mabel hissed back. Ford was not impressed. He stood against the doorframe, arms crossed and fingers tapping impatiently against his sweater, sure to hover his injured foot off the ground ever-so-slightly because running on an injured ankle made it worse?

“I mean, it was your idea. You can’t just call not it when it was your fault in the first place.” Logic and reason, Ford was rooting for Dipper on this one. He wasn’t exactly planning on scolding either of them, though, just waiting for them to finish their routine so he could clean up the mess. He was the adult, after all, being injured didn’t change that.

Mabel blew a raspberry at him. “I just di- he’s watching us by the way but I just did!” They both looked back at Ford and his.. Disappointed father stance against the doorframe, then Dipper cleared his throat and stepped in front of Mabel.

“We were just–” he began, folding his hands, but Ford silenced him with a raised hand.

He muttered in a steady tone, “save it. Are either of you hurt?” They were subjected to another quick examination, his eyes darting over them before Mabel responded.

“Uh, we didn’t really get far enough to get hurt..” She cast a wary glance toward the pot as Ford limped over to shut off the stove and waved away the smoke. 

Dipper added, “but we did get far enough to completely obliterate that pot,” as Ford squinted into the charred bottom of the pot. There were a few bones resting in the bottom. 

Concerning. In fact, all he could say to that was, “ho.. How?” with a baffled look at Dipper and Mabel. He carefully picked up the dish by the handles and set it in the sink to deal with later, then leaned against the counter and lifted his foot slightly. Ouf, he could feel a headache coming on already.. “What were you even attempting to.. Cremate?”

“Food,” the younger twins said in unison, then Dipper branched off. “We thought you’d like it if we cooked something nice..”

The only thing you cooked is your chances of entering this kitchen without supervision again, Ford thought, whatever was in that pot is far beyond “cooked”.

“Ah, a pot of bones,” Ford commented dryly, but added a chuckle in case the kids didn’t realize he was joking. 

Dipper leaned over the sink with a playful smirk and pointed into the pot. “I mean, there’s also some ash in there if you look really closely.”

“And glitter!” Mabel added in a chirp, and all of a sudden Ford’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling.

He knelt down (awkwardly and painfully) to ruffle Mabel’s hair and rolled his eyes. “Of course there’s glitter, how could you forget glitter?” Then his expression dropped. ..Hold on a minute. “You were going to feed me glitter?”

Instead of explaining themselves, the kids each grabbed one of his hands and pulled him out of the room.

“Don’t worry about it!”

“We can handle the mess!”

“You need rest, Grunkle Ford!”

“Yeah, you’re hurt!”

They both reassured quickly before pushing him back onto the couch. Mabel scampered off to make the kitchen worse– I mean clean it, and Dipper lingered in the living room to fuss over his Grunkle. “You’ve gotta keep it elevated,” he reminded in a murmur as he lifted Ford’s foot onto the arm of the couch. “And what did I say about moving around?”

Ford cast a glare at the ceiling. His eye twitched. “Not for at least two days unless I absolutely have to.” He grumpily quoted what Dipper had told him an hour after he and Mabel got home. Knowing him, he probably spent that hour researching how to care for sprained ankles. Very sweet, but also a little bothersome because he was getting high and mighty advice from a child. “But this time–”

“Mabel and I had it under control! No buts, just..” Dipper sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Give yourself a break for once, okay?” Oh, great, now he was preaching it. The one person he thought was on his side had switched up on him. Wanted him to “rest”.

And yet he had no choice but to listen.

Begrudgingly.

So like any functional adult that wasn’t him, he shifted to make himself comfortable, turned his head toward the TV, shifted again because laying like that hurt his neck, let Dipper adjust his injured foot again, shifted, grumbled incoherently for the sake of grumbling, couldn’t reach the remote, and decided he couldn’t do this.

“I can’t do this.” His brows knitted together as he spoke. “I’m not.. Equipped for relaxation, Dipper.”

A muttered, “oh my god” from Dipper was not lost on him but he chose not to comment. “..okay. Compromise, then. Be stressed, but from a supine position.” That was.. Possible.

Ford crossed his arms and squared his jaw. He knew stress. He knew stress well. This was easy. He swung his legs off the couch to pace–

“Grunkle Ford! Lay! Down!” Scolded Dipper, causing him to flinch back into his original lying position. Yelled at by a child! At least that made being stressed easier! ..and a little harder as Dipper settled down on the couch by him to watch the TV. “Literally just.. Stare at the TV and do nothing. Grunkle Stan does it all the time, you’ll pick it up.”

He. Wasn’t. Stanley. Instead of saying that he decided to just sigh and look back at the television himself. “There’s nothing interesting on,” he complained, more of an excuse than anything. “Your Grunkle Stan thinks The Duchess Approves is quality television, he’ll watch anything.”

“Not anything, he won’t watch any more Dream Boy High with Mabel.” Ford watched as his nephew strained to reach the remote, nearly falling off the couch in the process. “But!” He tossed the remote in his hand with a flourish as if he didn’t almost just faceplant into the carpet. “We live in the future.” The remote clicked as he pressed a button on it, then Disney+ opened.

Hm, right, you can put applications on the TV. He forgot that sometimes. “We really do live in the future..” he whispered in astonishment. 

“Let’s see, uh.. What’s something you’ll like..” Dipper thought out loud, scrolling through the selection of movies. ”Bambi? Too old. Uh.. Frozen? ..ehhh.. You wouldn’t like Inside Ou– oh!” He stopped on a movie called Big Hero 6. Ford wasn’t so sure about it, considering the big marshmallow guy on the cover.. Promo art thing, but the child was excited about it and damn his paternal instincts.

So, of course, he lied! “It looks interesting,” he stated. “Go on, play it. I can tell you want to.” 

Grinning, Dipper put on the movie and they watched.

----

“Have I been perfect? No!” Aunt Cass ranted as she walked toward the building, nephews in tow. “Do I know anything about children? No!” She moved to unlock the door. “Should I have picked up a book on parenting!? Probably!”

Ford gestured with a hand toward the screen. “I can relate to this,” he stated blankly, eliciting a chuckle from Dipper. It was true. He had no idea how those kids hadn’t died yet under his and Stan’s care.

And.. they kept watching. A quick summary:

“Oh, there’s the marshmallow guy.”

“The whole ‘invention getting a person into college’ thing hits just a bit too close to home.”

“TADASHI NOOOOOOOOOO”

And so on. The ending? Pure agony. 10/10. He was wrong about not being interested. Stan and Mabel had joined them sometime during the movie and Mabel had long since made herself comfortable on top of his chest. 

“Is that all I am to you?” Ford complained without any real bite in his voice. “A cushion?”

Mabel giggled in response, “you were gonna get up if I didn’t! I’m helping!” Then shifted to hug him and pulled Stan into it as well. “You and Grunkle Stan are the best cushions, anyway.”

“Quit bein’ sappy, Mabel.” Stan grumbled, though he hid most of his emotions beneath that gruff shell that was completely transparent to Ford. He was clearly trying not to cry. “I can’t take that right now.” He sniffed.

Dipper leaned over to look at him, pausing the credits with the push of a button. “Are you.. Crying?” 

“Wow, would you look at that!” Stan whipped to his feet and enthusiastically pointed at the clock, reading 11:34. “It’s half an hour past your bedtime!” Instead of acknowledging Dipper and Mabel’s groans and protests, he nudged them toward the stairs with a grumpy, “eh!”

Then he turned to Ford with the same stern look. Why did that make him nervous?

“You too, Ford,” the dreaded words came out flatly, like they had no meaning. Ford shot him a glare as an unspoken no. “Don’t gimme that look. You need sleep if you wanna get better.” Stan knelt to nudge his shoulder. “Dipper told me everything.”

Oh, what a rat! ..Not actually he would never say that about his nephew. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look like he wasn’t about to hoodwink his way out of.. “Bedtime”. Eugh. “You know I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to, I’m not tired whatsoev-”

A bottle of red gummies was slammed into the coffee table in front of him, causing him to flinch back and go silent. “..you were saying?” His twin gave an unimpressed look. 

“Is that melatonin?” Asked Ford, clearly reading the “melatonin” label and knowing damn well it was melatonin. “In- In gummy form, nonetheless?” Being the pragmatic problem-solver he was, he’d already developed a plan. Stall for as long as possible. “Hey, wait– how long have you had those?”

As Stan opened the bottle and shook two gummies out, he realized it might be a little late to just rant about neurochemicals until he got bored and left. “Eat,” he ordered curtly and dumped them into his hand. “They’re pretty good, honestly.”

“You didn’t answer my-”

“Stop stalling.”

Ford let out a similar groan to those of Dipper and Mabel after being told to go to bed, then shoved the gummies into his mouth.

Hm. They weren’t bad.. Strawberry with a hint of some kind of chemical. Spicy in a weird way, but it was better than you’d expect a medication to taste.

“You know, I normally get my sugar-right-before-bed fix in via jellybeans,” he commented. Popping gummies just to sleep at night. Gummies. He couldn’t believe this. 

Stan wasn’t impressed, brows lowered and a hand on his hip. “Sugar in something that’s supposed to put you to sleep would be stupid.” He closed up the bottle and shook it. “These don’t have sugar. Anyway, yeah, go to sleep.”

Ford let out a soft sigh as Stan ruffled his hair, blinked up at him a couple of times when he pulled his hand away, then watched as he undid the brace around his ankle (Dipper must have informed him that he wasn’t supposed to wear it in his sleep) and walked out of the room. He reached back in to turn off the light and called, “night, Ford.” 

“..Goodnight, Stanley,” he murmured in response and turned over to go to sleep, figuring he had no other choice.

[sirtaliesin]

Jason Blood Headcanons

Food and Weather

-Does not care for pork.

Jason will eat bacon or other cured/smoked meats but generally speaking he does not enjoy pork and it seems to put him off of eating entirely. If asked why this is, he will tell someone that he’s been on too many battlefields with burning or roasting corpses to find any appeal in pigs. He will not explain over a meal, however. He may instead say that he’ll give his reasons later when no one is eating. Especially since his descriptions can be somewhat graphic if he’s pressed about the topic.

-Favourite fruits

While typically, Jason prefers the tart flavours of pomegranates, cranberries, and green apples, he isn’t strictly opposed to sweet fruit. He does quite enjoy citrus as a general rule, and is particularly fond of oranges. Doesn’t really care for overly sweet preserves, but fig jam is something he likes to keep around. Raspberries and blackberries are also nice.

-Cooking & Baking

The process of cooking and baking is enjoyable when he’s got the time, more so in the modern day than any century previous. Jason enjoys baking as a meditative exercise and as a means of having something nice at the end of the day. Especially if he can control the actual outcome. Tries using a bread machine once when they were a brand-new invention and has summarily dismissed their existence as wholly unnecessary. (He really did not like the texture of the end result, or the smell of the machine in general.)

Doesn’t own a single non-stick pan of any variety, but most of his older pots and pans have built up their own non-stick seasoning from use. Prefers those and cast iron, as they’re familiar and he doesn’t have to troubleshoot them. He was given a set of aluminium sheet pans as a gift by a neighbour once and they’ve also developed a heavy non-stick patina from use.

-Weather and temperature

Jason truly abhors hot weather. Cannot tolerate it at all. A hot bath is wonderful in cool weather, and a warm fire is delightful. Heavy blankets and clean sheets during a rainstorm or good snowfall are a relaxing comfort. Hot summer sun is vile and inexcusable. Heavy snow is beautiful, but he’d rather not be out in it extensively. He will if he has to, and won’t complain, but Gaia’s grace, he is an unhappy bastard. Favourite weather is cool and grey, fog is lovely. Rain is excellent if he hasn’t got to be out in it. Unless he’s got a fever, then he’ll climb out a window to lay in the rain.

-Seasons

Over the centuries, Jason’s opinion of winter has inverted from misery to relief. Fireplaces and better insulation in a house allows him to actually enjoy the chill for longer. His opinions on Autumn and Spring haven’t changed at all, and he’s still pleased by the cool weather and the changing colours. Autumn still yields some of his favourite foods, and Spring does the same when it comes to favourite flowers and herbs. Summer has also inverted in his opinion, from relief to misery, especially in Gotham.

[milk5]

On the Skidelsky/Fuller post I reblogged, I absolutely welcome automation given the following criteria:

1. The output is identical or, holistically, more positive than human labor output

2. This automation occurs within an economic system in which GDP growth (or similarly fraught metrics) is not the primary objective

3. The automation aids the sustainability of nature and humanity

The USA's agriculture industry is a wonderful example of modern automation failing all three of these criteria. Throughout the entire industrial revolution, agriculture has trended away from being a society-wide confederation of family/community-scale, labor-intensive smallholdings to our current reality of a small number of monolithic industrial farms that are maintained by astoundingly few people who operate increasingly complex and expensive equipment.

Our massive-scale industrial farms are fantastic at what they were designed for; they grow as much of a staple crop as possible without regard to human or environmental health, doing so using minimal labor. Fundamentally, it is an extractive industry. Fossil fuels are extracted to power the machinery, processing, and logistics systems. Nutrients are extracted from the soil to the point that crop growth can only be sustained with heavy amounts of industrial fertilizer input. Entire ecosystems are sacrificed when forests are cleared to be exploited and repeatedly battered with pesticides. This is all primarily to produce soybeans, feed corn, and cotton to then process into products like factory farm livestock feed-slurry, corn syrup, junk food, and sweatshop garments. Secondarily, it is to produce flavorless, nutrition-void produce that can be sold year-round. Consistency is the goal, although one may find that nature itself is curiously inconsistent.

This case study of automation's failings can be traced back to a few major factors:

1. Old-style agriculture work is disagreeable to the USA's perverted fascination for infinite GDP growth; each farm laborer that can be replaced by a machine is a potential worker that could move into a city (or suburb) and put in the same amount of hours at a higher-dollar job. It's just opportunity cost, and this is more-or-less what Skidelsky and Fuller find offensive about our current labor zeitgeist; instead of the now-jobless laborers being free to pursue their interests, they are instead shoehorned into some shitty desk job that produces a relatively greater amount of money to be leeched by executives and shareholders -- this is "more productive" to our economy on the basis of GDP growth and thus must be prioritized over agricultural labor.

2. Industrial approaches to large-scale agriculture are inherently reductive to an extreme extent. Nature is far more complex than Liebig or any other enlightenment thinker ever imagined. Industrialization is great at making cars or computer chips or Gucci jackets or whatever, as these are things that can be standardized with relative ease. Nature cannot be tamed and standardized in a similar way; ecosystems, particularly soil ecosystems, can vary massively even in small areas of the same climate type. Our agriculture systems cope with this simply by ignoring such factors and reducing crop growth to a formula. In X region, plant Y variety of Z crop on A date and apply a regimen of B-type fertilizer and C-type pesticide on D date etc etc. This is the most egregious reduction of something in all of history.

Liebig's reduction of agriculture to the NPK model, just three elements, is good for achieving the singular goal of making your plant of choice come out of the ground, but it ignores all the nuance of soil, climate, and evolution. The other factors don't matter. Modern lab-designed fertilizers often feature a plethora of additional micronutrients, but the goal is still to produce a healthy crop, not healthy soil. Soil itself is an organism, it is something that must be nurtured to be healthy; industrial pesticide/fertilizer regimens are to the soil as feed slurry/antibiotic regimens are to factory farm animals.

Natural processes are, itself, the greatest form of automation for agriculture. Plants and animals that are native to a region have evolved to grow there regardless of human intervention. It is our disruption of these processes that forces agriculture to be labor/resource-intensive. This isn't to say that everyone must immediately abandon all non-native foods and adopt a primarily undomesticated Ötzi diet, but instead, it's worth considering that the complexity of modern technology is not even close to being at parity with the complexity of nature; nature has a several billion year head start. There is no way to flawlessly "tame" it with technological solutions, but a comfortable middle ground can certainly be found.

If sustainable, climate-friendly food production is the primary objective of agriculture, this is far more easily achieved by small, ecology-considerate farms than massive, largely automated industrial farms. A healthy soil ecosystem will aid in growth, flavor, nutrition, and, (quite importantly) carbon sequestration. Broadforking, shoveling, and wheelbarrow-pushing is absolutely more labor intensive than sitting back in a huge John Deere tractor with GPS-based autopiloting features, but the extra labor can turn a woefully extractive process into one that is instead highly regenerative.

[puhpandas]

things I consider canon to my flashlight duo universe:

gregory and Evan move in together when they're adults. evan runs to live with the fazbears as soon as he turns 18 and they go from there. whether it's college or just an apartment

gregory is what introduces Evan to drawing and he loves it. they both keep up with the hobby when they're older as well. gregory likes drawing comics and maybe becomes a graphic novelist and I think Evan would like painting

Evan eventually meets vanessa when hes about 14 and she becomes the older sibling he always wanted. he always felt intimidated by her idea because shes Gregory's actual biological sibling and Evan holds that to a high honor because he wants to be. but they get along and vanessa being there for Evan makes him feel like part of the family even more

Roxy and evan are close. roxy kinda takes Evan under her wing because although its not the same experience because roxy had a support system her whole life, she wants to help him through what she also went through. she helps him learn an outlet to control his emotions more to be more manageable and is a calm shoulder to lean on for evan.

in the event that the bite happens (it doesnt usually), I think after Evan heals and recovers he and bonnie would bond over their scars and bonnie would make him feel better about them

evan meets cassidy later on when hes mellowed out some. I dont think she would have liked him a lot before but when hes healed more and gotten better with his sensitivity they get along pretty good. I think cassidy wouldnt have many friends and probably be considered a troublemaker because of her anger issues and her lashing out and Evan uses what hes learned with his emotions to help her. I'll say they're both teens here

freddy and the other adults wanted nothing more than to march over to the Aftons and declare that they're taking Evan forever but they couldnt. I think that they wanted to actually go through a process of adoption and taking custody but that would have affected Michael too and I'm not sure if they thought it was worth it. especially when Evan says hes alright with the fact that things arent perfect and that he already practically spends his whole life there anyway with how he spends the night.

I imagine william isnt the best cook and Michael probably has other means of getting food on top of not minding eating frozen dinners. but I imagine Evan probably didn't like a lot of foods (hes a kid and also. neurodivergent) and didnt have many things he enjoyed. so I think chica saw this and introduced evan to different foods and tried to help him figure out what he likes so he can eat better and enjoy it at the same time

Gregory and Evan are avid claw machine players

off screen when they're not having a moment with eachother every 5 seconds they play games like roblox and minecraft since they're in the modern day. I think Gregory gave Evan one of his older phones that still worked since he didnt have his own (theres nothing wrong with it, just an older model and maybe a little slow) and he plays on that.

gregory will draw during sleepovers and then give it to Evan to color in. gregory always keeps them and hangs them up or puts them somewhere for safe keeping because Evan doesnt want something to happen to them at his house

gregory hates pickles and Evan loves them

evan is an avid sweater wearer and the Fazbears buy him more when he only has like 1 or 2 and his other clothes are starting to get too small. he keeps sweaters at Gregory's house because he basically lives there already

theres a movie night every saturday while everyone is available at the Fazbears

michael starts to lay off a bit after a little while (think a couple years) just because Evan isnt even around as much for him to terrorize. Michael doesn't like being at home either and since they dont see eachother as much bullying Evan isnt in his minds eye as often. it just doesnt come to mind to do as much at that point

because of genes and chica helping him eat good, evan grows to be taller than Michael

evan experiments with gender later in life as a young adult and is lowkey surprised to learn that Gregory has been transgender this whole time

evan develops huge holiday spirit and for the rest of his days loves to decorate and do holiday-ey things for the season

[sixeyescurseuser]

Modern AU where Yuji has to work after school in order to help pay for his grandfather’s medical bills.

He finally gets hired as a cashier/helper at the ancient local library.

It’s ginormous. There are walls of bookshelves, entirely filled with books of all sizes - hardcovers, soft covers, manuals - and different colors.

Understandably, Yuji goes through lots of training: learning how the ship is organized, how to help customers at the register, and how to keep the place clean.

Once, when Yuji is snacking on a few candies he got from the school vending machines, his manager warns him not to leave his food out, especially sweets.

“It attracts nasty, unwanted critters,” she states.

Yuji easily agreed and stuffs the rest of his candies in his hoodie pocket. They’re just about to close, so he gets to sweeping the floors of the bookstore. 

About one month in, Yuji has everything down. He’s a quick and eager learner, and actually had a very sharp memory. This serves him well as the manager who showed him all the ropes suddenly calls it quits.

Something about going insane in the bookshop, seeing things that don’t exist…

A haunted bookstore? Yuji questions himself. Seems likely. 

He’s never actually met the owner in person. And he barely catches sight of the other person who works the early afternoon shift.

For a bookstore so vast and abundant, there weren’t a ton of customers filtering in and out all the time.

One day, Yuji’s friends surprise him with a whole box full of donuts for his birthday. 

Yuji shares the donuts, but alas, there are still two left. He decides to bring the leftover two to work, intent on offering them to any lucky customer that might come in hungry.

Only two customers come in over the next few hours: an older woman who returns a couple books and borrows two more, and a father with a young boy who is looking for a “children’s horror book” about a boy being pulled into the ocean and dragged to hell. 

Weird.

The boy takes one donut. 

One donut remains.

Really, Yuji is unsure of how the owner is keeping this business running. But at least he’s being paid a decent wage. And it’s simple enough work too.

It’s quiet for the next hour. 

Already done with most of his housekeeping tasks, Yuji ventures to the sci-fi section, which is near the front of the store where he can still see the entryway, in case anyone comes in. This means he can also see the register counter, where the donut box lays, lid open.

Pop music softly plays from the store speakers. Yuji hums to the vaguely familiar tune, sifting through the shelves. 

But the music is not loud enough to mask the shuffle of the donut box on the counter.

Yuji pauses his search, scanning the doorway to make sure no one has entered the store. Not hearing any other pair of footsteps, Yuji turns back to the books.

A long moment passes before an unmistakable noise of laughter rings out.

Yuji whirls around because he did NOT imagine that!

He rushes to the counter, right in time to see the donut escaping the box. Or rather, upon closer inspection, a tiny person not even the height of a birthday candle, carrying said donut and bounding away.

Yuji, unable to process anything besides the fact that the tiny person is taking his last donut, chases after them.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

Yuji easily catches up to the tiny-person-donut-blob, cupping them between his palms right when the tiny person makes a leap for a bookshelf.

“Gotcha-!“ Yuji shouts in triumph. He squeezes tight enough to trap, then takes a closer look.

This tiny person is dressed in just as tiny clothes. Human-shaped enough, with white hair and black blindfold over their eyes. 

Before Yuji can ask “What ARE you?” The tiny person finishes chewing what Yuji assumes was a piece of donut, and opens their mouth to yell out:

“Formation B!”

Before Yuji can blink, two other small people fly from opposite bookshelves.

One lands on his right wrist and thumps it with a tiny hammer; this causes Yuji to let go of the white-haired-tiny-person and donut in tow. 

The other smacks right onto his nose, making Yuji go cross-eyed. This tiny human has black spiky hair and dark eyes. His expression offers nothing more than stone-cold as he throws a glittery powder into Yuji’s face- 

Yuji promptly blacks out.

***

The powder was supposed to make Yuji forget about the little people sighting, but it doesn’t work on him.

Now that he’s aware of their existence, he starts seeing the little people everywhere now: hopping from shelf to shelf, meddling in customer’s bags or purses, changing the music from Yuji’s classical playlist to a TWICE song.

(“It’s like TT~~like TT” in the background.

Yuji, in his head: “so that explains the random song changes” 🧐

It was all Gojo. 

Gojo also played pranks on the manager and made her quit lol. )

Au-wise, the major issue is that a real estate company is looking to buy out the building, wanting to create a more high-end shopping strip. The local bookstore is at risk of being closed down, which has been the home of little people for years. 

Many traveling little people even use the bookstore as a place to rest and find community. Yuji finds that there's a whole other tiny world within the bookshelves thanks to Gojo and his little family.

So Yuji has to help figure out a way to generate more business for the bookstore without risking the livelihoods of the little people, or help scout out a new location for the little people in case that doesn't work.

***

Bonus: 

Geto had always been curious about other little people's locations. A few months ago, he set out on his journey to explore outside the bookstore. 

("I'm going on a little adventure! I'll make sure to bring souvenirs for you all!" Geto pats his special bag that has an infinite amount of space before heading off into the big wide world.)

But he never returned, and has been missing ever since. Gojo is :(((. 

(Yuji: “I mean, I go outside all the time. If you tell me what kind of places he’d go, I can help search for him?”

Gojo: “I knew I liked you for a reason!”)

In hindsight, Geto’s first mistake was getting kidnapped by a hawk, which clearly thought he was food. Cue the hawk soaring through the sky and Geto's tiny screaming.

He ended up in a nest with baby hawks. 

See, living with Gojo and the kids back in the bookstore, Geto ran a lot in his life. But he swears, he's never ran so fast until then, away from the birds trying to gobble him up.

Geto simply yanked a tree leaf off the branch and sailed down to the ground. Geto ended up at a cafe a few blocks down. He's been trying to find his way back ever since. 🥹

It comes down to when Gojo tags along with Yuji during their weekly searches and Gojo’s gets enamored by the smell coming from the cafe.

Imagine Geto’s surprise when he’s hiding within the shelves behind the counter and sees a tuft of white hair peeking from this large human’s collar.

Satoru!

And it’s as if he can sense Geto anywhere because Gojo locks eyes with Geto right away.

Suguru!

Gojo jumps down from his perch - he’s gone rogue!

Yuji, internally: “NOOO”

Luckily, most people in the cafe are engrossed in conversation or their work. The only person Yuji makes a fool out of himself for covering the clearly tiny person making a dash for the back shelves is the barista.

Geto hops down the shelves and meets Gojo in the middle of the coffee machine, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

Yuji, stalling his order so the barista doesn’t notice the tiny Satosugu reunion on the mf coffee machine: “Uh, so what do you recommend?”

Geto quickly sweeps Gojo up in his arms and heads towards Yuji. The barista is still talking through their recommendations. 

Yuji: “Oh, um, I’ll actually have one hot chocolate, please. Also, how much is that pastry?”  

Yuji points to the display so the barista doesn’t see him scooping up tiny Satosugu into his hoodie - who whisper loudly among themselves. 😭

(Gojo: “Suguru, your hair got so long!”

Geto: “It did, I didn’t really have anything to cut it. You like?” 😉

Gojo: “Oh I much more than like it~”

Luckily, Geto puts his palm over Gojo’s mouth before he can continue.)

Once they’re back on the street, Yuji feels a tap on his neck.

“Hello, I’m Geto Suguru. What’s your name?”

“Itadori Yuji. Bookstore cashier, shelver, and tiny person transporter,” Yuji introduces himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Geto-sama.”

Geto laughs loudly. 

“Nice to meet you too, Yuji-kun.”

A moment passes, before he adds: 

“Thank you for helping Satoru find me.”