#Annual Accounting Review

[tracychamberlainhigginbotham]

(via Wednesday Wisdom: The Real Bottom Line)

[xyl4-4444]

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!

I just turned 19, yippee!!!!!!!!!

[vague-humanoid]

Nearly all of the deaths in U.S. immigration detention facilities over a five-year period were preventable, but no officials have faced serious accountability, a new report found.

Of the 52 people who died in detention under the custody of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) from January 2017 to December 2021, 49 of the deaths, or 95%, were preventable or possibly preventable if appropriate medical care had been provided. The new report, “Deadly Failures: Preventable Deaths in U.S. Immigration Detention,” reviewed more than 14,500 pages of documents published by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), Physicians for Human Rights, and American Oversight on June 25.

None of the private prison corporations—which currently hold more than 90% of the detainees under ICE custody—have faced meaningful consequences as million-dollar contracts have been doled out to the same facilities where preventable deaths have occurred, the report showed.

“It is a system that’s rotten to the core,” said Eunice Hyunhye Cho, senior attorney at ACLU’s National Prison Project and lead co-author of the report. “From bottom to top, you see some very minimal slaps on the wrists and blaming of the lowest level employees, but there’s really no true accountability regarding the disaster of the medical care system in ICE’s detention facilities,” she said.

After deaths in detention, ICE failed to conduct rigorous investigations—failing to interview key witnesses, omitting key inculpatory facts, and allowing evidence to be destroyed, the report stated. ICE also withheld information from the relatives of the deceased. To obtain the medical record of a loved one, a family has to take ICE to court and litigate for years to receive often incomplete files.

“It is a system of impunity and lack of transparency as ICE and private corporations are working hand in hand in perpetuating dangerous and deadly conditions,” Cho said.

Amid medical neglect, cruelty, and abuse, more than 38,000 immigrants are held each day in an ICE network of some 190 detention facilities across the country, as of June 16. That number will only increase as Congress approved a record annual budget for ICE to detain 41,500 people daily at a cost of $3.4 billion this year. Most of the detention budget will go to the private prison companies—The Geo Group and CoreCivic being the largest—where most preventable deaths occur.

“The answer that we see over and over again to the failures that produce deaths is to give the detention system more money,” said Andrew Free, an attorney involved in more than 30 cases of deaths in ICE custody and contributor to the report. “That’s been the response at all levels of the system. It’s not just one facility. It’s not just one contractor. It’s not just one fiscal year,” he said.

@dirhwangdaseul @startorrent02

[nightpool]

If you are an auditor, and you call up the chief financial officer of the company you are auditing and ask “hey when is a convenient time for me to come to your office to review the books,” and he replies “no, no office, parking lot,” and you say “okay I’ll drive to your office and you’ll come down—” and he says “oh no, not our parking lot, a different parking lot,” and you meet him in a parking lot 40 miles from his office, and he hands you printouts of the financial statements and drives away, how should you begin your audit? Which of the financial statements is most likely to contain red flags or discrepancies to be addressed? I feel like the answer is “the parking lot”? If I were auditing those financial statements, most of my questions would not be about technical accounting matters but “why are we meeting in a parking lot again?”

Here is a story about the CFO of the Detroit Riverfront Conservancy, William Smith, who was arrested last week for allegedly stealing $40 million from the nonprofit:

"Mr. Smith’s grip on the nonprofit’s finances was so tight that even the nonprofit’s accountant, charged with tracking spending, could not log into one of the group’s bank accounts. Only Mr. Smith had the password. He gave her the bank statements on paper and met her only four times a year, in the parking lot of a Honey Baked Ham store 40 miles from the office. […]

"Brian Mittendorf, a professor who studies nonprofit accounting at Ohio State University, said that the conservancy’s official documents show that it took steps to safeguard its finances — including oversight from its board of directors and annual audits.

"‘All these things sound as if it’s an organization with a pretty robust review in place. On the other hand, only one person can access the money, and provides paper copies in a Honey Baked Ham parking lot?’ Mr. Mittendorf said. ‘Those sound like the opposite of a robust governance mechanism.’"

As it happens, Smith allegedly altered the bank statements by “[removing] the payments to himself and [replacing] them with fake payments to other vendors.” I still don’t fully understand the parking lot, though? Like you can meet the accountant in your office to hand over the doctored paper financial statements; just unplug your computer first. I just feel like meeting in the parking lot sends a pretty strong message of “I AM DOING CRIME” that you might want to avoid, if you are doing crime.

[johnbrand]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The vast majority (99%) of the 281,000 metric tonnes of carbon dioxide (CO2 equivalent) estimated to have been generated in the first 60 days following the 7 October Hamas attack can be attributed to Israel’s aerial bombardment and ground invasion of Gaza, according to a first-of-its-kind analysis by researchers in the UK and US. According to the study, which is based on only a handful of carbon-intensive activities and is therefore probably a significant underestimate, the climate cost of the first 60 days of Israel’s military response was equivalent to burning at least 150,000 tonnes of coal. The analysis, which is yet to be peer reviewed, includes CO2 from aircraft missions, tanks and fuel from other vehicles, as well as emissions generated by making and exploding the bombs, artillery and rockets. It does not include other planet-warming gases such as methane. Almost half the total CO2 emissions were down to US cargo planes flying military supplies to Israel. Hamas rockets fired into Israel during the same period generated about 713 tonnes of CO2, which is equivalent to approximately 300 tonnes of coal – underscoring the asymmetry of each side’s war machinery.

[...]

David Boyd, the UN special rapporteur for human rights and the environment, said: “This research helps us understand the immense magnitude of military emissions – from preparing for war, carrying out war and rebuilding after war. Armed conflict pushes humanity even closer to the precipice of climate catastrophe, and is an idiotic way to spend our shrinking carbon budget.”

[...]

Even without comprehensive data, one recent study found that militaries account for almost 5.5% of global greenhouse gas emissions annually – more than the aviation and shipping industries combined. This makes the global military carbon footprint – even without factoring in conflict-related emission spikes – the fourth largest after only the US, China and India.

[hussyknee]

Applying a conservative estimate of four indirect deaths per one direct death9 to the 37 396 deaths reported, it is not implausible to estimate that up to 186 000 or even more deaths could be attributable to the current conflict in Gaza. Using the 2022 Gaza Strip population estimate of 2 375 259, this would translate to 7·9% of the total population in the Gaza Strip

(Source: The Lancet)

The Lancet is one of the oldest and highest impact peer-reviewed medical journals in the world. Deliberate undercounting of deaths is a key feature of genocides.

The Electronic Intifada estimated it at 193,000 a few days before.

The reported number of martyrs on Wednesday this week was 37,718. It’s important to note that this number only includes martyrs who have been identified by name and civil ID number through the beleaguered health ministry in Gaza. Given the breakdown of reporting systems due to heavy destruction of infrastructure and personnel, this number, even with its limited parameters, is a gross underestimation. Based on more accurate figures of approximately 370 people killed daily, multiplied by 264 days of genocide, the actual number is closer to 97,680 martyred. (Per OCHA estimate of 15 martyrs per hour: Over the course of 264 days, which amounts to 6,336 hours, this number would roughly be 95,040).

...

Based on these estimates, both conservative and data-driven, respectively, the actual figures are likely as follows: • 377,280 buildings destroyed completely or partially • 95,040—97,680 martyred • 221,760 injured • 24,750 dead or dying from starvation • 42,000 missing (presumed dead, kidnapped by Israel’s occupying forces or possibly trafficked). The following ranges represent conservative estimate or lower range of data-driven population estimates: • 17,050—94,049 with chronic illnesses dead from lack of medication • 14,408—255,985 dead from epidemics resulting from Israel’s assault This means the actual number of dead is closer to 194,768—511,824 people, with 221,760 injured. And counting.

(Source: The Electronic Intifada)

Israel surrounded the last remaining hospital in the Gaza Strip with tanks and ordered it evacuated and shut down 12 hours ago.

If you still want to believe the pussy-footing toll of counted and reported deaths that can stand up to Western propaganda, after nine fucking months of dropping more than 70,000 tons of bombs on a 41 kilometer strip, exceeding World War II bombings in Dresden, Hamburg, London combined, rather than the statistical breakdown of humanitarian orgs and medical journals, then have at. There's no point telling you to believe the victims and question your own biases towards your own heavily propagandized establishments.

But if you can do basic math, then please use The Lancet's estimated death toll. The massacre of 8% of the Gaza Strip is a conservative estimate and still apocalyptic. Resist all attempts to diminish it. Remember that this is the result of the United States's obstruction of justice and open-handed abetting of genocidaires. Keep fighting.

Btw:

While the war itself is estimated to have generated between 420,265 and 652,552 tonnes of carbon dioxide equivalent (CO2e) so far—equivalent to burning more than 1.5 million barrels of oil—this figure soars to more than 61 million tonnes when pre-and post-war construction and reconstruction are included. This is more than the annual emissions of 135 individual nations—but there is currently no legal obligation for militaries to report or be held accountable for their emissions.

(Source: EuroNews)

[sheep-from-rad]

Imagines: Batfam x Social Media Handler! Reader pt. II

Note: This is a random idea. I also had coffee and I’m now allowed to have coffee because it makes me throw up sometimes. Well, i’ll get on that later but right now let me publish is mini idea Original: Batfam x Social Media handler! reader Masterlist

After coming back from a good two months of annual Wayne paid vacation, you were immediately greeted by a salary raise, a few more tasks added on your weekly routine, an access to the liquor cabinets and a private therapy. 

One of the new tasks added to your weekly routine is playing fan made games. No, not those games made by big companies but those fanmade itch io dating games. It was Stephanie’s idea, she said that it’s a good idea to keep track of fan’s headcanons and see if a thing is too close to their real identity. The rest of the family shrugged at the idea but now you have a throwaway account for all those games in case you need to sign in and a smaller bank account for paid DLCs. 

Unfortunately, from one to two games a week, you now have to review double the amount because Nightwing accidentally quoted a word for word line from one of the dating games during his patrol. Their idols playing their fan made game= happy fans. Happy fans= more games made. More games made=more stuff for you to review. You now record the gameplay as well and you send it to them during their downtimes to share whatever cringe you come across with. 

Reading fanfics also got added to your weekly routine. The Batfam usually just ignore fanfics most of the time until that one Damian Wayne x reader fanfic got viral in the media. The plot is good really, it’s a fake dating turned real dating  AU where Damian blends in the society with fellow vigilante reader by masquerading as lovers at day. It was good but it almost blew his cover as Robin when hardcore readers started following Damian during school time and then following his other persona during patrols. Damian had to exchange patrol schedules with Tim for a week because of the thing. The fanfic reading is a rare task though because Jason already reads most of it during his breaks. 

The pay raise wasn’t just because of the new tasks added to your job, it was also a compensation for every horror you have witnessed and will be witnessing while handling DMs. Handling creepy/flirty DMs is normal given that you’re the first person that will always read them but you forgot the fact that handling DMs means also opening the private and public accounts at 4 a.m. in the morning and suddenly being greeted by nudes. Kate made a good suggestion for Alfred to give you an access to the liquor cabinet because sometimes coffee is really not strong enough. 

Speaking of handling public account DMs, handling Bruce’s public account is like reading the gossip page of the newspaper every morning. His DMs can be sorted to three things: Business related messages (which you redirects to Lucius Fox), party and social gathering invitations, and of course, nudes and ex-flings claiming that Bruce is their kid’s father (and occasional threats that they will ruin Bruce’s reputation if they don’t pay child support or take them back as a romantic partner). Most of the Friday reports are just you making appointments for paternity testings. Of course, how can you forget? You can’t handle Bruce’s DMs around the Batkids. The last time it happened, Jason took control of the account, and posted embarrassing pictures on the business page.

[uyuforu]

Why your Birthday is your Personal New Year

All pictures were found on Pinterest

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Your Birthday's Significance

Your birthday mark the day you were born (duh), but it's more than just a day we celebrate the day you were born. It marks the day you came into this world. As we know, in Astrology, we calculate our birth chart/ natal chart based on the exact moment you were born. It will ten create a map, with planets, asteroids, placements, and houses based on a rising, and specific degrees represents the specific placements of planets the minute you came into this world, and this detail makes you very unique. In this case, your birthday isn't just a celebration, it's also your personal new year. While humanity celebrate it as a group of individual on a certain date (depending on the culture), you as an individual will celebrate it on the day you were born. You are growing one year older, with one year full of new achievements and new events coming into your life. Let's see what can help you see those!

Your Solar Return Chart

જ⁀➴ Calculate your Solar Return here.

Free Horoscopes > Horoscopes Drawings & Data > Extended Chart Selection > Chart Type: Solar Return Chart

Your Solar Return Chart (SRC) is an Astrological tool that enables you to see what will most likely happen to you during your next year. As it is said, it is your Solar Return, so your Sun's return. Based on your natal sun, on the exact degree, SRC is calculated based on when the Sun will return on the same sign with the exact same degree. You'll see in each SRC, your Sun is in the same sign and degree as your Natal Sun. Only the house will change if you have different risings in your SRC over the years.

This means that each year, on your birthday, or the day before your birthday sometimes, you'll pass through another SRC, and have a view on what will most likely happen to you. You can also use this technique to check previous SRC and understand some life events better. Checking our SRC is a way to see that every years of our life, we achieve and change, and transform, as we are meant to evolve with time.

Annual Profections

જ⁀➴ Calculate your Annual Profections here.

Annual Profections are based also on Astrology, and mostly on our ages and houses. Basically, this tool explains that depending on which age (and so birthdays) we are, we embody a certain house that year. For example, when you will turn 25, you'll embody the 2H more. It usually means you'll probably be more focus on savings, money, perhaps making more money this year, or also changing the way you manage your money, etc. Each House has a different meaning. Of course, this doesn't mean you will need to wait to be on a certain house to do something. It just means as an individual, those houses will represent your more intern focus. And it may actually go naturally, without you need to force anything. Life is most likely to put you through certain transformations based on the houses' themes.

Numerology's Personal Year

This isn't a subject I know very well, I just have some base. So if you are interested in it, I suggest checking more on Tumblr or the Internet. An account that has more knowledge is @lilithsrealm. I suggest checking their account!

Numerology is a great tool too to check on your birthday. Just as with SRC and Annual Profections, Numerology can also tell you in what phase you'll enter this "new year". You'll need to take your birth day, birth month, and the current year of your birthday, add all of those numbers together, and then get a number that will be the total of all of those, and this will be your personal year number!

Example: I was born on August 6th, so 8 / 6. And this is the year 2024. So I'll calculate 8 + 6 + 2 + 0 + 2 + 4. All together this makes 22, so it's my personal year number this year. So, specific case, but 22 is a master number, so in this case we don't really add it together again. But if you end up with any other number than 10/ 11/ 22 or 33, then you add it together. Even if mine is 22, the 4 energy will still be there, but 22 is important. I say 4 because 2+2=4 (lol).

Every year, on your birthday, your personal year number change, indicating you'll go through another cycle of your life. Each numbers mean something specific, so I suggest making more researches after finding out yours!

Destiny Matrix

જ⁀➴ Calculate your Destiny Matrix Chart here.

જ⁀➴ Destiny Matrix Romance Numbers

Destiny Matrix is an Esoteric tool that explores the 22 Arcana's of the Tarot to see a different approach of yourself and your life, as a Chart, similar to Astrology. It's a tool that also enable you to develop your full potential as an individual. Numbers and Chakras are used instead of signs, houses and degrees. Numbers on the Chart will go from 1 to 22, representing each Tarot's 22 Major Arcanas. Colored Numbers are your main energies, they are also great tools to understand your true potential and why you came into this life, but also past life, desires, and your soul's purpose. On each sides of the chart, you'll see your different ages, representing different eras of your life. And above those different ages, you'll see a number, between 1 to 22.

Different ages then represent different birthdays. And the numbers above those age represents the different energies, based on the Tarot's Major Arcanas. It will represent the energy of those specific years, and not only in a specific area, but as a whole. For example, I have 8 this year, so this can represent entering legal matters with someone, for example, a wedding, or a contract with a society. It can also mean being more mature and taking more responsible choices. It's also closing a karmic cycle, etc.

Thank you for reading!

back to index ; ask ; request ; rules

[pillowbugs]

idea: submas au(?) where pre-battle subway, both of them were already somewhat known on the internet, but for different reasons. maybe not super famous, but definitely notable in their various circles.

let's say emmet has a blog / vlog (iamemmet) where he and a couple friends (elesa, burgh, etc) just mess around and battle and stuff (think online / showdown battle videos on yt except they're actually irl). he does talk about trains sometimes, and is visibly excited whenever he does, but most of his fans are there to watch him battle more than anything.

meanwhile, ingo runs a train blog (Conductor I) where he posts long and detailed writeups of virtually anything to do with trains. he is known to be quite passionate, and has gotten into various extremely heated arguments with other railfans on internet forums over the merits of certain trains and railfan etiquette. maybe he collabs with other blogs covering other topics run by his friends (e.g. trains vs planes annual debate feat. highflyinggirl (skyla), starlight express review feat. spectralscribe (shauntal), etc). overall, though, he's fairly guarded regarding his personal life, and most of what people know about him, excluding his train-related opinions, is from whenever he collabs with other people.

they have collaborated with each other before, so people absolutely know they're twins. there is a running joke about how emmet's fans might actually know more about ingo than his own fans, simply because emmet is much more open with his personal life and inevitably that includes a lot of stuff involving his brother.

so one day, they both announce that they're taking an indefinite hiatus from their blogs because of a project. after almost a year of speculation - oh, look, there's a new battle facility in unova! wait, these guys look familiar... and it does happen to be a facility integrated into the subway...

so of course, their existing fans congratulate both of them on their new positions, everyone's celebrating. both of them do return to posting on their blogs after things have settled a bit more (albeit less frequently than before the hiatus, because they have a job now). however, with their newfound mainstream fame, comes a gigantic new wave of fans from the battle subway.

and this is where things get incredibly messy within the fandom. maybe less so on emmet's end - he's quite open on his blog about being a subway boss, and vice versa, and he acts more or less the same way on both accounts, so within his fanbase, the question is just "when did you find him?" because he's been the same throughout. he is emmet. that's it. though, there is of course still a bit of fan elitism from those who found him before the subway and know all the "deep lore" about him.

ingo's fanbase, however, is an absolute bloodbath. there are actual factions. the two most notorious are the subway-onlies, the ones who are most likely to be called fake fans by the rest because they're only interested in his persona as a subway boss; and the conductor purists, who only enjoy his blog and forum presence but not his irl job, and think he has gone downhill after achieving mainstream success. in fact, many of the subway-onlies don't even realise ingo has a 'personal' blog, or any social media presence besides his official account as a subway boss, while the most diehard conductor purists have disavowed the battle subway because in their minds, it's taking attention away from the blog.

a big reason for the divide is that ingo gives a very different image on his blog and as a subway boss; a passionate, friendly railfan who can be quite verbose especially in roasting people online, versus the professional, polite facility head with a serious demeanour. many fans who found him through the subway are surprised at the content of his blog, even if most of them also love seeing this side of him. a certain subset of the fandom is very insistent that the blog shows his 'real' personality, while his being a subway boss is entirely an act.

in short, big fanbase = problems. many people looking in are genuinely terrified and confused as to whatever the hell is going on in there. there is Drama. get the popcorn.

[metamatar]

One of the world’s top arms exporters, Israel exports annually as much as $7 billion worth of military technology, or 2.2 percent of its Gross Domestic Product. An additional 1.35 percent of GDP is dedicated to military research and development, and 6.7 percent is spent on its defense budget— the world’s second largest military budget as a percentage of GDP after Saudi Arabia. All told, 10.25 percent of the Israeli economy is involved directly in arms. Comparatively, for the United States, the world’s top weapons exporter, arms account for around 3.7 percent of its economy. Israel is actually the world’s largest arms supplier per capita, according to data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute and the World Bank, at ninety-eight dollars; it is followed by a distant Russia at fifty-eight dollars, and Sweden at fifty-three dollars.

These figures do not include the contribution from natural resources exploited under occupation in the West Bank and Gaza.50 They do not factor in the service sector’s revenue or general industry and construction taking place in the West Bank. Such figures are difficult to quantify, since many companies operate in the West Bank but have offices in Tel Aviv to obscure where operations take place. Nor does this account for Israeli exports into the Occupied Territories, which are 72 percent of Palestinian imports and 0.16 percent of Israeli GDP. All told, the Israeli economy is deeply involved in a web of expenditure and profit around the ongoing occupation and expansion of settlements.

American military aid supplanting open-ended government grants has had the effect of increasing arms production and diminishing the overall economic reach of the state. No longer is foreign aid and imperialist incentive directly invested in the working class. Israeli workers are now rewarded through the arms economy. This is why, despite the lack of social mobility and the economic degradation of neoliberalism, the working class remains committed as ever to Zionism.

The working class has become dependent on the education, housing, and career opportunities that their participation in the IDF affords them. They have found routes for advancement in the military-fueled high-tech industry, with over 9 percent of workers concentrated in high-tech. And as pensions and real wages are eroded, the cheaper cost of settlement living in the Occupied Territories has become essential.

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 14

@flufftober

Prompt: Mundane AU

Alt Title: One Piece at A Time

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Tags/warnings: Dean being Dean tbh (big ol' warning there), FLUFF, meetcute (I really like these apparently ahaha), Dean is a Mechanic, Sammy Stayed in law school :), John is still dead (I still hate him), Reader knows nothing about cars, 2nd person (female  Reader – use of "lady" once), tattooed! Dean, this is 10000% a grumpy x sunshine now that I think about it

Summary: You have car trouble and head to the nearest mechanic, Singer & Son, where your grumpy mechanic gives you an earful for not taking care of your car.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I may or may not have scared my own mechanic with these things. Mechanics fear me. And if you know Johnny Cash, you'll recognise the title of this piece! Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

Prev | Next | Masterlist

Nothing in particular made you choose Singer & Son Garage as your new mechanic of choice. Reviews were good and it was near your house; you were sold. When you had left your car with the wizened Bobby singer, he had told you that your car should be ready in two days.

That was four days ago.

It was only supposed to be an annual check-up, ensuring everything was in working order. Which it was - when you'd left it at the garage. It drove nicely from point A to B, other than the strange rattling that had started a month ago (or the weird noise when you'd use the wipers). So, when you rang the garage on the afternoon on the 4th day, you certainly weren't expecting to get gruff, clearly annoyed answers from one of the mechanics.

"So... is the car okay?" You asked nervously, beginning to worry about the cost to fix or if there was a scam taking place.

“Yeah. You could say that. “ There’s a scoff and you can practically  see the eyeroll on the faceless person on the other end of the line.

"Uh... Okay? When can I pick it up? " You frown into the phone, unsure what he meant but bit back an indignant huff.

There's a pause. “This evening, if you want I guess. Look lady - I don't know what you did to this car but there's a lot of work that needs to be done. " The voice's annoyance seems to grow but you can't fathom why. “You’ll need to come down so we can discuss what needs done and book it all in.”

Your frown deepens. You weren't well-versed in cars and you were so far out of your depth you weren't sure if you were being ripped off.

"Uh. sure. Just give me a time."

“16:45 work?"

You check your work calendar. "Yeah. "

There's a grunt of approval. "Alright. See you then. "

 The phone clicks off and you're left staring at your phone in disbelief. You even blink a few times at the black screen of your phone. What crawled up his ass and died? The car was okay - that's all that mattered.

You sigh, mentally preparing for your bank account to break.

At 16:40 you wander into the garage, poking your head into the small office. Bobby Singer looks the exact same as he did four days ago, just in a different colour plaid. He's still tired-eyed with a phone pressed to his ear, hidden behind a mountain of paperwork. You give him a small wave and a smile when he glanced at the doorway.

He put his hand over the phone and waved you in. "Hey, again. Here for your car?"

You nod and wring your hands awkwardly. You feel like you're in the principal's office about to get an earful. Bobby gives you a short smile before speaking into an intercom.

"Dean, customer here to collect."

Silence.

“Dean,” He says a little louder. “Customer here to collect."

More silence.

You look around the office sheepishly when Bobby sighs.

"Sorry Sammy, your brother's not answering. Give me a sec,” He says gently into the phone before yelling into the intercom. "DEAN!"

His sudden yell made you jump half an inch into the air and he shot you an apologetic smile. Whoever Sammy is, he must be saying something to Bobby because he huffs into the phone. "He's playing his damn music to loud. Again.”

There's a clang of metal and the gruff voice from earlier calls out from behind you, causing you to turn. “Yeah?"

Stood leaning against the door is probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. He's wearing a white tank although you're not sure why; he's covered in grease and oil head to toe looking like a dishevelled dalmatian. His strong, tanned arms are littered with tattoos and your eyes trail to his ringed hands that are wiping a wrench clean with a dirty rag, that he then tucks into dirty blue overalls that have the arms tied at his waist.

Bobby nods in your direction and in a sarcastic tone says, "Customer."

Dean’s  green eyes cast a glance at you quizzically like he'd forgotten you were coming. Then he looks like he's about to roll them as he realises who you are. “Follow me.”

Dean leads you out back, where ACDC is playing from an old, beat-up greasy radio. You try not to stare, occupying your mind instead with trying to spot your car. It's like a car graveyard; tens if not hundreds of cars in various states of repair are scattered around the lot.

Your nervousness grows the more you walk until you see your car. Or more accurately, what's left of it. It's on a jack and one of the wheels is on the floor. It looks okay, all things considered. You guess that Dean must have been messing with you.

"It's fine!" You say, relieved. Dean shoots you a glare.

"It's not fine." He grunts. "Your suspension is rusted on the front and back, two of your tyre treads are below legal limit, one of your reverse lights is out and the rubber on your windscreen wipers is missing."

You stare blankly at him. "Meaning..."

"Meaning," Dean continues. "Your car should not be on the road."

"Ah," You say, dumbfounded. It was working four days ago just fine, and you tell Dean as much. He just scoffs.

"I don't know how that car did not blow up on you." He crosses his arms across his chest. "There's a lot of work that needs done."

Now your nerves were waking up again and spinning into a frenzy. "H-How much are we talking?"

Dean scratches the back of his head and heaves a sigh, looking thoughtfully at the skeleton of your car. "Maybe a grand. Could be more, depending on parts."

You almost swoon at the price. It was cheaper than buying a new car but that was the kind of money you did not have at hand. "Could I just get.. five hundred dollars worth of repairs?"

You look hopefully at Dean who frowns and then sighs. "Some of the repairs are a quick fix. If you're willing - I could show you how to fix 'em. That'll knock down the price."

You're so happy you could cry. "Thank you so much. That - That's really kind." You give Dean a grateful smile but he turns his head away from you quickly, clearing his throat.

"We'll get it done one piece at a time." He reassures you, voice slightly less grumpy. Only slightly.

"So... can I take it home?" You ask curiously, bouncing your foot on a tyre.

"No, I can't let you leave in it because it will fall apart." Dean huffs. "Sorry, but you'll be without the car if we're doing it bit by bit."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." He huffs, scowling at you.

Walking everywhere would be good for you. It was better than being down a whole grand.

"Look, I can drop you home since you came all the way here. I needed you to see what you'd done to the poor thing." Dean starts to walk back towards Bobby's office, you following his lead.

"I can walk." You insist, eager to not piss Dean off anymore than he already seems to be with you. "It's not far I swear."

Dean still huffs. "No, I'll drive you. Bobby'd kill me if he knew I let you walk home in the dark anyway."

You open your mouth to argue, but he gives you a steely look that tells you he isn't up for debating you; it's happening whether you like it or not. You smile awkwardly and mumble your thanks, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as Dean grabs a set of keys.

"C'mon, we'll take Baby."

You're brows furrow slightly, unsure whom he's calling baby, but teeter behind him.

Baby, as it happened, was a car.

You pull a face but as you drift by the sleek black exterior and peer at the black leather seats, drawing a short breath of awe.

Baby looked sexy.

You can't ever recall thinking a car looked sexy, but Baby was. Especially with Dean in the driver's seat. You slide into the passenger side and close the door with care, terrified to be too rough. Baby smells like car oil and pine and unlike Dean she is pristine. You buckle up and place your hands awkwardly in your lap as Dean turns the key. Baby's engine doesn't roar to life like your hunk of junk - she purrs - setting a steady rumble as Dean's strong arm reaches behind you so he can reverse out of the parking space carefully.

"Do you mind if I...?" Dean points at the car radio once on a short stretch of road and you shrug.

"Go ahead."

Dean turns the dial and Led Zepplin fades in through the speakers. You tap your foot along to the beat, you don't know the song but you do recognise it. After a few moments, you can hear Dean humming along to the lyrics, checking his mirrors at a junction and you bite back a smile. When he wasn't being such a grump, he was actually kind of cute.

The car ride was mostly silent until you got to a busy stretch of road and some asshole just had to dangerously cut up Baby, narrowly missing the car by a few centimetres had Dean not swerved. However, as Dean swerved, you'd slid down the seat and knocked into his shoulder with a squeak of surprise.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yells at the driver, laying on the horn. He looks down at you worried. "You okay?"

You blink up at him, wide-eyed with slightly dishevelled hair. Your heart is racing fast from the near-miss but when your eyes lock with his, heat rushes to your cheeks and you can't seem to sit up fast enough.

"S-sorry. I'm alright." You clear your throat and give him a sheepish smile but he bursts into laughter. "What?"

Dean points at his cheek, snickering. "You have some oil on your face."

"I do?" You pull down the mirror and inspect your face and sure enough, there's a big black smudge on your cheek. The oil from Dean's clothes must have rubbed off when you knocked into him. "Oh, Goddammit." You rub at the smudge, only making it worse.

"Hey, stop that." Dean tuts, glancing back over at you from the road. "Dish soap and water'll make that come right off."

"Oh - thanks. Ah! This street right up ahead. That's me."

Dean grunts and nods, turning into your street gliding up to the curb outside your house. The engine cuts out and on autopilot you unbuckle yourself. Dean watches quietly but doesn't say anything.

"Thanks again," You say, hand on the door handle and flashing Dean a smile. "I don't know how I could repay you for my car."

His cheeks flush pink. Usually, this was where he'd flirt shamelessly, but something about you had his chest feeling tight and his stomach rolling. He finds himself thinking about how you were looking up at him when you'd knocked into him and how his heart fluttered. How he'd willingly offered his unpaid services to fix your car (even if you were supposed to help). How he'd nonchalantly decided to drive you home in Baby of all the cars on the lot. Dean swallows thickly.

"Maybe... dinner?"

"Dinner?" Your eyebrows fly up and you stop opening the passenger door. You falter for a moment before smiling at him, blush back in full force. "Uh, yeah, sure. I'd like dinner."

Dean's hands grip the steering wheel tightly, turning his knuckles white. He nods and struggles to find his voice for a moment.

"When's good?"

"Tonight's good. Or Friday." You say watching him with a small smile. He looks like he's not used to asking someone out on a real date. You decide to help him out a bit. "There's a really good burger joint on Winston Street. We could go there."

Dean’s eyes glitter when he looks over at you, breaking into a grin. "You mean Diego's?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Best burgers I've ever had." You tilt your head slightly at him. "You been before? We could go somewhere-"

"It's my favourite." Dean interrupts. "I'd love to take you there."

Your heart thunders and you nod, beaming at him. "Alright then, it's a date."

"It's a date." He says, a smirk twitching on his lips.

Once you and Dean have said your goodbyes and you're safely tucked against the wood of your front door you slump against it sighing dreamily. Friday couldn't come quick enough.

[prolifeproliberty]

There are 55 pages of jury instructions, but the most important pages are pp. 27-31

This is where the judge instructs the jury on what the charges are and what is required for a guilty verdict.

Many people have spread misinformation that Trump was just convicted of campaign finance violations. This is untrue. He was not tried on those charges.

The charges he was tried on were 34 felony counts of Falsifying Business Records in the First Degree

This means they are saying Trump broke this law 34 separate times (in reality it’s that the same transaction is recorded and reported in multiple places, so each of those would be a separate count)

Normally, falsifying business records is a misdemeanor with a 2-year statute of limitations, which would mean they couldn’t have charged Trump with this UNLESS they could upgrade it to a felony.

To make it a felony, the prosecution is supposed to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that:

1. He actually knew and approved of falsifying the records (Trump does not do his own accounting, if you weren’t aware)

2. He did so or agreed to do so with the intent of covering up another crime

The jury instructions include one possibility of what that crime could be (campaign finance violation), but the prosecution could not prove that he committed that crime and he was not officially charged and tried for that crime. The judge proceeded to tell the jury that they did not need to agree on whether the campaign finance violation was the crime that Trump was supposedly trying to cover up (p. 31). They only needed to agree that Trump was covering up some kind of crime.

Again, for those who haven’t followed this case, here was what the prosecution said happened:

Michael Cohen, as an attorney for Trump, made a payment to Stormy Daniels in exchange for he keeping quiet about a sexual encounter she claims she had with Trump

Michael Cohen claims that he told Trump about the payment and was reimbursed for the payment, and that the reimbursement was recorded as a payment for legal fees (this is where they claim it’s being falsified)

Only the defense was able to completely discredit Cohen’s story about when he supposedly had this conversation with Trump about the payment. (The video has lawyers reviewing the transcript, reading it, and commenting on the significance)

And then there’s the fact that the only evidence that Trump even reimbursed Michael Cohen for this payment is a $420,000 transaction marked as legal fees. Thing is, the payment to Stormy Daniels was $130,000. More importantly, Cohen had previously testified that he had been receiving $420,000 a year as a retainer from the Trump organization for several years. That is, $420,000 was his normal annual retainer fee, split into monthly payments of $35,000.

In this video you can skip to about 49 minutes in to hear these lawyers read the transcript and discuss Cohen’s explanation of how a $130,000 reimbursement somehow ended up looking exactly like his normal annual retainer.

So based on this testimony, it looks like the Trump organization may not have even reimbursed Cohen for the payment, they just paid him his normal legal fees, which is why they were recorded as…legal fees.

So when I say this trial is a sham, this is what I mean.

[kremlin]

I do computer work but it's not very hard and kind of boring. How do I get to do hard computer work? Do I have to go to grad school?

hi i tend to miss these because of slipshod ublock custom filters im too birdbrained to fix.

i worked for a large american technology company which sold business machines internationally for close to a decade until laid off in successful accounting fraud scheme a few years ago. started as developer, erm, pardon me, i started as

junior developer

which is a role similar to routinely-executed court jester and human meatwave conscript meant to soak up enemy bullets to cause exhaustion of enemy bullet supply and finally guy that comes in big gross truck with a pump and a tank and a big hose used to suck the shit+piss out of portable toilet/malfunctioning sewer etc. this is for when you are 20 years old or so and they hit you with this work to calm your ass down a bit. my case was cloud bullshit on ancient rickety php stack. 5% keystrokes/clicks are php, 95% remainder is jira and other members of the axis of evil. LOT of dick sucking and butt fucking. Going into men's bathroom and making eye contact with cubicle neighbor before entering stall and fearlessly making disgusting noises. microwaving fish lunch thrice daily. you get the idea. meager paycheck but six figures takehome technically

next is staff dev, wait, god damn fucking tumblr, you can't adjust fonts mid-paragraph, and Big Text is just another type of font, in case you wanted Big Specific font. fucking fuck hold on. next step is

staff developer

no effective change besides greatly increased workload (click those motherfucking jira buttons!! suffer coworker's asinine bad-faith code review comments that HE AND HE ALONE must manually accept your responses to, on HIS time, before you are allowed to click the jira buttons that start the human meat sausage factory to get your 20 line maximum change into an RC and then release and then push candidate and then prod push!! pay raise one thousand dollars annually (lol). Emails. Now you deal with project manager too. speculate as to what sorts of grievous head injuries that man must suffer daily to describe his logic. his job is like the guy from office space that brings documents from one desk to another but he randomly reorders the words on the page in-flight. make plausibly-deniable wife fucking jokes about his wife in earshot. you're almost at the top of the suffering function. next is, no fucking cute font this time, senior developer, sounds cool right, lol, lmao, "senior" "developer" is like "tallest" "midgit".

no pay increase no workload increase but now manager emails you about extremely, extremely personal issues he's facing and also makes his most difficult problems from his boss your problems. one week will pass and then they will hit you with the "we're considering you for a team lead position". answer:

NO

answer no as this is the prescribed path, you take that role, you are maxxed out in workload, you are dealing with forty employee's worth of bullshit, another one thousand dollarinos a year raise, employer has solved efficiency problem with your sanity and burnout as variables. you're supposed to quit or kill yourself within seconds of hitting 30 y/o. don't fall for tricks. say "NO" in a creative way such as "i have tabulated some data and made it into excel pie chart quantifying diff. departments work output and am considering sending it to whoever Dave is, the guy that is one or two or three report levels over your boss' head, you know, his boss' boss' boss or whatever. or say "you are harassing me sexually, racistly" that kind of shit. make threat clearly.

was worth mentioning before, throughout all of this make as many friends and as much of a splash for yourself as possible as its time to trade on that goodwill, tell your boss you want an open relationship and you're going to fuck and suck other managers, and then find the good one with the good team of old fucking geriatric guys who could never be fooled into working more than a reasonable amount daily and also can kill people with their minds since they have been sitting on the bleeding edge of computing since 1969. their boss will usually be, suspiciously, one report rank higher than everyone else. e.g. their boss has a whole other boss + his reports under him. usually small team. go to their boss, say, hi, look at me, look at my beautiful plumage and captivating mating dance, please hire me, pleassseee. his team will say no, they will say things like "I don't know about that kiddo", "That guy seems like a candy-ass", they will read your papers and look at you in the eyes and say it is not compelling, the boss will kind of hire you anyway. if he doesn't you're fucked. if he does you're now a

STAFF ENGINEER

for fifteen minutes and then

ADVISORY/SENIOR/SPECIAL ENGINEER

and the suffering is over. no code minimal jira + squad of gremlin zerglings under your boss whom you can rank-pull and delegate bullshit to, they will be mostly suckers, take advantage of this. 80% of keystrokes/clicks will be in production of beautiful wonderful lovely .docx and .xlsx's, what a godsend, only in an emergency are you allowed to fuck with your zergling's code, usually in a cool way with bullshit procedure removed.

i worked on high performance computing shit. "what the fuck do you mean 2PB or so in and out a day on flash memory", "what the fuck do you mean special infiniband intel MPI library on CD-R stored in Craig's filing cabinet???". Meetings with company people: webcams off, responses optional, snideness allowed. Meetings with client: you must have your dress shirt starched and white glove the shit out of those motherfuckers. timezones = skill issue. i don't care where germany is, i don't give a shit, wake up at 3am for a 20m meeting i take on the toilet or while eating a boiled lobster complete with cracker + lobster bib. customers countable on one hand, invoices to customers not countable with 32 bits. no fucking mistakes ever allowed except for like whitepaper drafts, you cannot fuck the pumpkin on this one, your actual job relies on your ability to hit a button and suck down a week's worth of compute and millions of dollars, boiling swimming pool's worth of TDP, one mistake that leads result data to being able to be characterized as flawed and your balls are getting ripped off. Quarterly IRL meetings = normiepilled normiemaxxing. Dress sharp. leave at 5pm on the dot, go to bar with Old Fucker coworkers, drink wrecklessly with them, have a blast, let them give you a tour of a lab you are absolutely 100% not allowed to be inside, buildings that have posted weight limits per sq. ft. exceeding 250lbs, such a blast. every paycheck a FORTUNE every dinner a banquet every meeting an email every keystroke life or death. you get to meet /lib/doug mofos too one of whom i wrote a very poor kind of poem thing about. thats about it. hope this helps

[fatehbaz]

In 1901, Liang Qichao, a prominent Chinese journalist, wrote an essay entitled “The New Rules for Destroying Countries” (“Mieguo xinfan lun”).

In it, he presented what he had come to understand were the patterns of nineteenth-century Euro-American colonial-imperialist world domination into which China was being drawn. Egypt is the first among five examples he cited of a people and a state crushed by these “new rules.” No simple military invasion or despoiling occupation, the new rules proceeded under a subtler logic. According to Liang, English financial advisers had inserted themselves into the Egyptian court, inducing the state to indebt itself so completely that international bankers could take over from within. This ingenious mode of domination constituted what Liang called “formless dismembering,” hardly detectable as it proceeds, and announcing itself suddenly once it has taken place. Without quite articulating it, Liang was theorizing the advent of finance capitalism in relation to colonialism, with Egypt at its core. [...]

---

Aaron Jakes [...] takes up the relation between imperialist domination through the financialization of capitalism in the colonies [...] in his comprehensive account of the British occupation of Egypt from 1882 to 1914. [...] The [financial] crises, produced in the metropole [London, Paris, New York, etc.], were analytically and practically worked out by yoking colonies as productive places and colonials as laboring and culturally marked/racially othered bodies to metropolitan concerns over empire [...], making Egypt a “laboratory in which to settle those greater questions of the Empire” (25). [...] [T]he original goal of British colonial governance was to enhance [...] cotton-growing for export to the global market and capital investment/speculation. [...] The British restructuring of rural space and agrarian social relations [...] severely constrained the room for maneuver of the Egyptian peasantry, who had long used the porousness of the relations among land, property, labor, and power to gain whatever advantages they could. Peasants were now locked firmly in place, and when [...] [financial] crisis hit, their indebtedness left them relatively defenseless. By 1905, superficial prosperity hid roiling discontent with economic development but also with colonial legitimacy. [...]

---

[T]he Egyptian journalist Ahmad Hilmi recognized the British discourse of development as “gilded speech” that created an economistic reality without accounting for the lived complexity of actual Egyptians. As Jakes puts it: “despite the occupation’s command over the means of representation, the shared sentiments and experiences of the Egyptian people were irreducible to the charts and tables that adorned the pages of Cromer’s annual reports” (118).

In comparing Egypt’s poverty to the British-produced poverty of Ireland, for example, the economic boom of gushing capital investment was revealed to be a mechanism of wealth accumulation for the few. [...] [T]he gap between rhetoric and reality [...].

---

All text above by: Rebecca E. Karl. “Review of Egypt’s Occupation: Colonial Economism and the Crises of Capitalism.” Jadaliyya online. 21 June 2022. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

[notfinancialadvice]

It's been awhile, but I have a new thought for folks starting out investing

This blog is called "not financial advice" so this is not financial advice. Nothing on this blog is.

And.

I am working on a large-scale D&D-style banking system for a private client (my job is weird). This is putting me in touch with a lot of people in very expensive suits and it I keep pinging them:

"Let's say someone has $100 to start investing, what should they do. Like, literally $100. With $0.00 added after."

I've cobbled together some thoughts (not advice don't sue me) and cut out the bullshit and sales pitches.

Start a high-yield savings account in an FDIC insured bank. As of this writing (April 27, 2023, United States-based), it'll be somewhere between 3.5 - 4.25% APY (annual percent yield -- i.e. interest)

Go with a bank that is FDIC insured. Banks pay for this, you do not. Here are smart people talking about what FDIC is.

The percentage difference listed above is 0.75%. Moving money is a bitch, is it worth chasing 0.75%? That depends on your situation, time, etc. Here are smart people who built a calculator to help you figure it out if it's worth it to you.

Touch it as little as possible.

Start a spreadsheet that tracks your finances.

In the cell that lists the amount of this balance, give it a name. Something fun, something that speaks to you. I did this as an experiment + to participate, mine is "Slime Research Adventurer Destruction Fund".

Write a prospectus (fancy word for "this is what the goal for this cash is to do").

Slime Research Adventurer Destruction Fund prospectus: Follow the path of high-yield savings rates at {bank}. Review quarterly if other banks have a substantially better rate (+1.5%).

The entire point is to break the idea of "them not me" and "today vs. someday" and "I cannot begin to build wealth vs. someone else can."

A $100 savings INVESTMENT IN A SAVINGS ACCOUNT with a rate of 3.5-4.25% will give you interest of $3.50-4.25 at the end of the first year, then continue on growing onwards.

That is your return.

Is it as high as investing in the market? No.

Is it safer? Holy fuck yes.

When you invest in stocks, bonds, etc. you are looking for a return. This is your return.

This is not a grindset mindset work 24/7 chunk of advice. This is not a reality-disillusionment "I am struggling I need to work harder."

You need to be knowledgable about how things can work for you so you can leverage what you have, where you are, when you have it, as you can.

A high-yield savings account is not going to make you rich.

It probably won't make a difference in an emergency.

It will absolutely make a difference in non-emergency times, over a period of time.

Slime Research Adventurer Destruction Fund Destroying Adventurers.

That last point is where I'm coming to.

If you don't have enough cash to invest and/or you're not comfortable investing, that's fine.

Give your savings account a name that speaks to you. This is your investment. Your savings account = your investment account.

There is no moral or ethical difference between "I have cash shoved into a savings account" and "I have cash shoved into the stock market."

The only difference is potential risk, growth, and fees (never pay for a savings account), liquidity ("how quickly can I convert this thing into cash to buy an apple at the grocery store, pay a bill, etc.").

Make money less scary via weird names and fun graphics.

Go to a piccrew site and make a catgirl with pink and blue hair.

Name your fund "Catgirlsnax Fundsies".

Make. Money. Management. Less. Scary. By. Taking. Control. Via your own. Desires. Goals. Weird quirks.

Here is to hoping these gifs are not from horrible shows I don't know anime I know money and business and monsters.

If they are then I apologize for it.

I've read the notes on my blog and a lot of you like anime. I'm hoping these resonate.