#consumer staples

[biglisbonnews]

Amazon is trying to make shopping easier with one tiny button A popular feature that was rolled out over the past year is quickly gaining traction on Shopify and other shopping sites. https://www.thestreet.com/retailers/amazon-shopping-way-easier-with-one-tiny-button

[alphst]

Tyson Foods Inc (TSN) Q2 2023 Earnings Call Transcript

$TSN Q2 2023 Earnings Call Transcript #earnings #markets #investing

Tyson Foods Inc (NYSE:TSN) Q2 2023 Earnings Call dated May. 08, 2023. Corporate Participants: Sean Cornett — Vice President, Investor Relations Donnie King — President and Chief Executive Officer John R. Tyson — Executive Vice President, Chief Financial Officer Wes Morris — Group President, Poultry Brady Stewart — Group President, Fresh Meats Stewart F. Glendinning — Group President, Prepared…

[validwords]

Net Worth of Coca Cola in 2022

Net Worth of Coca Cola in 2022

If you are curios to know about the net worth of coca cola, you’ve come to the right place. This report will show you what the company will be worth in 2022, as well as the company’s market cap and recent weekly and quarterly values. Similarly ups and downs in the net worth of coca cola revenue you can also look up the company’s best and worst weeks. There are  different sections of the report,…

[shameboree]

You know when you get trauma induced food aversions? Very sad to report that The Poisoning has lead me to loathing something i have quite a fucking bit of in my freezer.

[threeawfulfruits]

FINALLY SAW ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE!!! Holy shit. I was sitting here thinking people were exaggerating saying it was even better than the first, thinking there’s no way you can top that genre-changing masterpiece and I shouldn’t get my hopes too high...I was so wrong. It WAS truly, genuinely a sequel that took the source material and ELEVATED IT x100 while also honoring and building off of it.

The first one made it so obvious that a great deal of love went into every frame, and even more love went into every detail of this one. Truly terrifying scenes, viscerally unsettling visuals, heavy themes, solid callbacks and references, fantastic new characters...this bitch has got it all. My brain is scrambled. I can’t even put my thoughts together, I’m just like *standing ovation*

Perfect balance of making plot points/themes/twists obvious enough that you could guess them coming but not SO obvious that it feels like spoon-feeding, you know??? They did us DIRTY at the end though what do you MEAN it’s a two-parter?!?!?! I said “NO!” aloud in the theatre, I was so wholly gripped by the last five minutes and now we have to wait HOW many years?!?!?!

[minglana]

cardo my beloved😩

[rambling-robot]

i cannot imagine what it's like to not be lactose intolerant. and i hate it when there's a long post about "easy recipes with minimal/no cooking!" and half of it is "just eat cheese!" yeah man. can't wait for the nutritional benefits of tummyache and diarrhea. i'll be taking this one to heart for sure.

[californiasplit]

Literally where would I be as a person without plain Greek yogurt

[dictee]

What program is Anthy from?

revolutionary girl utena!

[1800duckhotline]

also unfortunately heres rina's kinlist

[earningselite]

Don't Say We Didn't Warn You - More Downside Ahead In Store For This Sector

Waiting for the upcoming recession to head back into the stock market? You may be waiting a while... #sp500 #spy #bullmarket #bearmarket #newsletter #trading #earnings $spy $ndx $qqq $xlp $rsps #consumerstaples

AS MEDIA OUTLETS CONTINUE TO PRINT DOOMSDAY DATA ABOUT AN UPCOMING RECESSION, BIG WALL STREET FIRMS ARE VOTING WITH THEIR DOLLARS THE OPPOSITE IS TRUE On August 15th, an Earnings Elite article was published about a big player in the Consumer Staples space entering a bear market. Well, if a rising tide raises all ships, a falling tide seems to sink them all as well. The chart included here is a…

[magpie-murder]

okay we need to have an intervention.

i've noticed that people don't leave the same kind of unhinged compliments under fanfics that visual artists usually receive (eg, "i want to eat your art"), so i've come up with a list that you need to start employing when your friends send you their WIPs and when your favorites update on ao3 but you're having a hard time commenting something that sounds intelligent and you still want to support them

"you're like if [famos author] (eg, Victor Hugo if the fic is angst) was into [fandom]"

"well THIS has been added to my pre-sleep daydream schedule"

"this fic invaded my mind and consumed my brain like a spore"

"I'M LOSING SLEEP OVER THIS ONE, FOLKS"

"yOu'Ve AlReAdY lEfT kUdOs HeRe"

"this fic has me scratching at my yellow wallpaper, it's so good"

"this fic has me checking under my floorboards for the heart of a kind man i murdered, it's so good"

"i'm making my parents read this"

"i know only one chapter is out so far, but i'm going to print this out, staple it together, and put it on my bookshelf next to the canon material"

"this fic gave me another mental illness"

(you can only do this one once) "i made an ao3 account specifically to bookmark this"

"i'm going to print this out so i can eat the words on the paper"

and a couple that are just nice (without the feral nature):

"i made a custom playlist to listen to while i read this fic"

"this fic reminds me of [song]"

"i really liked the part where [x], it really stuck with me"

"i really liked this line, [quote the line,] it was so well-written!"

artists: draw fanart of the fic!! it doesn't matter if you think your art skills are good and it doesnt matter if it's just a sketch!! let the author see it!!

make a moodboard!! for the fic!! let the author see it!!

[alphst]

J & J Snack Foods Corp (JJSF) Q2 2023 Earnings Call Transcript

$JJSF Q2 2023 Earnings Call Transcript #earnings #markets #investing

J & J Snack Foods Corp (NASDAQ:JJSF) Q2 2023 Earnings Call dated May. 02, 2023. Corporate Participants: Norberto Aja — Investor Relations Dan Fachner — President and Chief Executive Officer Ken Plunk — Chief Financial Officer Analysts: Connor Rattigan — Consumer Edge — Analyst Jonathan Anderson — William Blair — Analyst Todd Brooks — Benchmark Company — Analyst Andrew Wolf — CL King —…

[zvaigzdelasas]

US rice exports to Haiti, which account for the bulk of supplies of the country’s key food staple, contain unhealthy levels of arsenic and cadmium, heavy metals that can increase risks of cancer and heart disease, according to a recent study by the University of Michigan.

Haiti is among America’s top buyers of rice, alongside Mexico and Japan, and cheap imports are more affordable than local options in the Caribbean nation, the poorest state in the western hemisphere.

According to the study, average arsenic and cadmium concentrations were nearly twice as high in imported rice compared to the Haitian-grown product, with some imported samples exceeding international limits.

Nearly all imported rice samples exceeded the US Food and Drug Administration’s recommendation for children’s consumption. [...]

The study, which attributed the dominance of imported rice to lower import tariffs and long-term contracts signed during [US-supported] political turmoil in the late 1980s and 1990s, said Haiti imports nearly 90 per cent of its rice, almost exclusively from the US.[...]

When researchers ran the study in 2020, they found that Haitians on average consumed 85kg of rice per year, compared to 12kg in the US

23 Feb 24

[vanderilnde]

House of the Rising Sun butcher/neighbour simon x reader

-

The rusty knob of your shower gratingly creaks as you twist it. You look up at your showerhead, toward the sparse drops of water falling from the nozzle. How they splatter against the floor of your bathtub in quick, light taps. Dripping like a leaky faucet, emptying itself out. 

Annoyance congeals under your skin. You have a meeting in an hour, for a second job somewhere north of here, and still smell like the sweat you’re sleek with from the nerves. And, naturally, your shower isn’t working. 

It’s rashly undertaken desperation that pushes you out of your flat and in front of Simon’s. Clutching your towel and clothes to your chest, rasping on his door. You know he’s home—you can tell by the hum of the football match thumping behind the wall—and Simon confirms this by swinging his door open, looking down at you with his depthless, burnt eyes. 

He’s wearing a mask again. And before that deep-seated urge to see him without it, to see him bare, fully consumes you, you’re blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Can I shower here?”

Simon’s brows purse together, his eyes marginally widening, and you realise how odd that sounds. 

“M-mine isn’t working,” you tack on, “and I’ve got an interview in an hour.”

Simon grunts. The short, guttural sound carries an undercurrent of disapproval. “You gettin’ a second job?”

Temperately, you nod. Feel your knees grow tender as you’re dwarfed by his stature. 

He throws his chin over his neck, shepherding you inside. Simon’s flat smells of salt and antiseptic, a little bitter, and is flecked with things like fishing implements and staples for hunting. A bolt-action rifle is mantled above his television. A cobweb-cracked picture frame holds a photo of four men on the coffee table, inscribed in perfunctory writing, Scottish Highlands, 2019. That makes you avert your eyes, stare at your shoes, not wanting to seem pervasive as he leads you to his restroom. 

Here, you realise Simon is a red-blooded minimalist. He keeps his restroom barren, save for an eroded bar of soap on the lip of the bathtub, a two-in-one shampoo and conditioner bottle, and a shaving kit that looks stolen from an inn. 

Simon recovers something from a cabinet under the sink. When he stands back up, he holds it in his hand, awkwardly curling in on himself. It’s a little unseemly to see—a man of his big stature, trying to sheepishly make himself smaller in your eyes.

“A candle,” he grunts. “I heard birds like showering’ with candles or somethin’, yeah?”

Softly, you smile. A pang of something sweet hits your chest when you see the shells of Simon’s ears turning pink, his hands fumbling in his pocket for a lighter. He sets the burning candle on the counter, then proceeds to bull-headedly stand in the middle of the bathroom, staring at you. He reminds you of a dog on guard. 

You call his name and his spine straightens.

“What?”

“You need to leave when I’m showering.” 

If Simon had dog ears, they’d be sagging. He twitches like he’s confused, disappointed, and only now realising you’re waiting for him to leave. 

He turns and exits the bathroom. 

And even when you turn the knob, stepping under the shower, you notice the hot water can’t replace the warmth Simon had taken with him.

And you also notice, that while lathering yourself in Simon’s shower, invading his space, an affinity takes hold of you. A pinprick of belonging, and, an avaricious undercurrent for wanting something more.

[cryptotheism]

She awoke to a boxcar full of corpses,

which was damn lucky, because it meant she now had a one-way train ticket to exactly where she wanted to go. All that was left to do was pass the time.

The student took inventory of her body. It was the first thing she knew to do in case of catastrophic injury, but the ritual of it was almost meditative now. Start at the bottom, work your way up.

Feet: Sore from walking. The leathery sheathe of mutagenic skin that ran up to her shins was largely unfeeling scar tissue at this point. They looked and functioned like a pair of high-topped hiking boots, except permanent and a part of her body. They were a rough custom job, designed for traversing the pools of acid that dotted the necrotic swamps common to her homeland. Home. Not much left of home now. She was getting sidetracked.

Legs: Also sore from walking, but less so. The musculature was hers, but the skeleton was reinforced with carbon-steel after a fall when she was little. Shock absorbing hydraulic femurs were nice for someone who did as much walking as she did. Skin was necrotizing again. Gotta get that replaced. Maybe one of the corpses is fresh enough to provide a graft.

Pelvis: Mercifully unfeeling. The surveyor had grabbed her by the hips. Skeleton was completely replaced a long time ago, but she could feel a hitch in the joint of her left leg whenever she moved it just so. An easy fix but time consuming, and not the sort of work to be done on a moving train. No necrotization here, at this point it was all synthetic. Uterus was completely original, not that it meant much. The little bundle of braided tubes that assisted her endocrine system remained stapled to her skin. The jangling was annoying, kept getting stuck on her hatchet, thus, staples. Fluids were looking a little dark, she must be dehydrated.

Torso: Felt fine, aside from the strain on her spine from carrying her things. Even with the augments, spines in general were just poorly constructed. Flesh was scarred, lots of burns, but mostly original. Both clavicles were removed and replaced with cargo sockets. She rolled her shoulders, it seemed like everything was working well. Breasts and sternum had been removed too, replaced with subdermal bulletproofing. She had spent extra for the good stuff there. One solid hand-ground piece of sloped armor. Getting shot in the lung was a lesson you only needed to learn once. Heart was completely mechanical. She even had a backup in her bag just in case. She traded the old lung and the breast tissue for that.

Right Arm: She rolled back the sleeve of her heavy coat and stretched her arm, watching the little electric motors dance. It was strong and dexterous, with half a dozen small tools built into the length of her forearm. No need for skin. In a pinch she could perform everything from network intrusion to basic surgery. Most of it was covered by the sleeve of her heavy coat. The amputation was above the elbow. She had leased her original arm for the current mechanical one when she was working on the pit crew for for an order of knights. She ended up keeping the arm.

Left Arm: She liked her left arm. She was proud of it. The trademark of a sythetimancer. It was pretty. Biological and mechanical features blending seamlessly together. Coils of veins and circuitry making intricate braids up her arm terminating in perfect Fibonacci spirals. Softly bioluminescent blood, filaments formed from calcified nerve tissue, synapse clusters under crystal clear de-pigmented bulbs of alpha-keratin. She concentrated for a moment, allowing the whirls on her palm to twist and readjust themselves with a tingling sensation. Carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, all recombining into butane. She snapped her fingers, igniting a tiny flame, letting it dance along her fingers for a few moments burning and repairing the flesh as she went, spirals parting and coalescing like leaves navigating the twain of a gentle river. They looked like the little shell fossils she found at the white desert when she was little. Memories. Loss.

The spirals in her hand began to twist and pulse, little corkscrews of bone began to form, growing outwards against the thin layer of biosynthetic skin. It hurt. She winced, and regained control a moment later. Careless. She shook her arm, and the flame on her finger went out.

Head: Still a bit hazy from the pain. Where to start with the head? Neck. Parched. Currently being warmed by a scarf with a length of handmade maille hidden in the folds. Rebreather was working well because it was made well. It was made well because she made it. She made it because it used to be her job. Like everyone of her strain, she had no teeth, only two solid ridges of tough bone, largely blunt and made for gnashing but gradually coalescing into a single triangular point, evolved for ripping flesh. She clacked her jaws together experimentally. Clack. Clack.

Eyes were tired and dry. There was a short mechanical hiss and a snap as she the shields over her eyes retracted back into their sockets in her cheekbones. The only light was from a pair of grates in the ceiling, but the glare nearly blinded her. She snapped the shields back into place, and the heads up display came slowly back into focus.

Originally her skin was the sort of rust color common to her strain. By now it was a deep weather-worn red, except for the parts that were charred black and rotting. Gotta replace that. If she could grow hair, she had done a damn good job of making sure it was thoroughly singed off. It occurred to her that it might be fun to have hair one day. Maybe she could make it herself. Would it grow in spirals? She looked down to open the bag of genebending tools at her waist, and her heart jumped into her goddamn throat.

Staring up at her from the pile of corpses was a pair of bright red eyes on an unnaturally pale face with no nose or lips. Which would not be terribly upsetting or surprising, had it not just said “well met” in an oddly pleasant female voice, attempt to sit up, fail, and then ask politely if its new acquaintance would stop sitting on it.

This is the first chapter of Amber Skies. The complete story can be read here, along with its currently-in-progress sequel, Emerald Seas.