I'm At Soup

I learned at an engineering conference recently that one crypto mine in TX, 100s of MW, makes more money off ERCOT demand response markets than it does off crypto

It was society, ultimately, and their inability to examine the truth of a situation, to view things objectively rather than through the strict lines of debt and duty and class. There's no way he didn't realize that.

Lan Wangji is the Lightbearing Lord. He goes where the chaos is to ease the burden on as many people as he can. He always did that, it's in his nature and how he got his title, but in the past 13 years he's been actively teaching that philosophy so that the next generation spreads kindness and gratitude and one-step-at-a-time is now working to make the world a better place where what happened to Wei WuXian and the Wens is less likely to happen again.

The old guard is just the same, as Wei WuXian notes when they all turn on Jin Guangyao, but the upcoming new generation can look at a guy in facepaint wailing and rolling around and give him enough sincere attention and consideration to realize he's extremely competent, change their opinion, and come to trust and rely on him.

The next generation will be better than them, and then the next, hopefully. It's incremental, but very real progress that has demonstrably not been really possible by working in the established systems.

Lan Wangji is a guy that's pretty certainly going to cultivate to immortality and live centuries and millennia. Likely he's cultivating his mind for that scope of living as well and therefore thinking in this kind of vastly long-term for achieving his grander goals.

I genuinely think one of the way's he moved on and coped with losing Wei WuXian was by deliberately, hopefully taking a chance and investing/trusting to the next generation to make the world safe for future Wei WuXians.

Anyway. I was painting the wall when it hit. My friend heard me make a noise and asked what was wrong—I explained that I had just fallen through several portals. I realized that painting the wall fulfilled my entire hierarchy of needs, and was absolutely sure that I was on track to escaping the cycle of samsara if I just kept at it a little longer. I was thwarted on my journey towards nirvana only by the fact that I ran out of paint.

Seeking a surrogate act of humble service through which I might be redeemed and made human, I turned to unwashed dishes in the sink and took up the holy weapon of the sponge. I was partway through cleaning the blender when it REALLY hit.

You ever clean a blender? It’s a shockingly intimate act. They are complex tools. One of the most complicated denizens of the kitchen. Glass and steel and rubber and plastic. Fuck! They’ve got gaskets. You can’t just scrub ‘em and rinse them down like any other piece of shit dish. You’ve got to dissemble them piece by piece, groove by sensitive groove, taking care to lavish the spinning blades with cautious attention. There’s something sensual about it. Something strangely vulnerable.

As I stood there, turning the pieces over in my hands, I thought about all the things we ask of blenders. They don’t have an easy job. They are hard laborers taking on a thankless task. I have used them so roughly in my haste for high-density smoothies, pushing them to their limits and occasionally breaking them. I remembered the smell of acrid smoke and decaying rubber that filled the kitchen in the break room the last time I tried to make a smoothie at work—the motor overtaxed and melted, the gasket cracked and brittle. Strawberry slurry leaked out of it like the blood of a slain animal.

Was this blender built to last? Or was it doomed to an early grave in some distant landfill by the genetic disorder of planned obsolescence? I didn’t know, and was far too high to make an educated guess. But I knew that whatever care and tenderness and empathy I put into it, the more respect for the partnership of man and machine, the better it would perform for me.

This thought filled me with a surge of affection. However long its lifespan, I wanted it to be filled with dignity and love and understanding. I thought: I bet no one has hugged this blender before. And so I lifted it from its base.

Eight for a wish Nine for a kiss Ten for a chance you must not miss Eleven for a wasp Twelve for a bee Thirteen for a coffee Fourteen for tea

Fifteen for a pencil Sixteen for a pen Seventeen to hear these options once again

Eighteen for pepper Nineteen for salt Twenty for an accident in which you were not at fault

Twenty one for Jerry Twenty two for Tom Twenty three - where are all these magpies coming from?

Twenty five no seriously Thirty this is weird Forty eight from where have all these magpies suddenly appeared?

Sixty two stop counting Seventy just run Ninety nine the revolution of the magpies has begun

Two hundred no more sorrow Five hundred no more fears One thousand for how long the empire of the magpies will last in years

Specific detection of the SARS-CoV-2 virus, not simply general "contamination", in wastewater data is pretty much the only reliable method that gives a proper overview of how the virus currently trends and circulates.

Come on Tumblr, don’t be fucking cowards

Fan The Flames

Everyone needs to bring this up. Every TV appearance needs this question answered.

lol, lmao etc but someone in the comments posited ’Hey maybe a TESLA just sees a child as an adult who is further away and thus there’s no need to brake just yet’ *THUD*