#DEADHEADS UNITE

[the--magic-never-stopped]

Mid 80’s tour vehicles documented by Lisa Jennings

[cyberpunkonline]

The Untamed Web: How Internet Culture Rebels, Evolves, and Defines Our Digital Age

What is Internet culture? The question drifts through the ether like a rogue signal, elusive and captivating. To untangle this web, we must trace its lineage back to its inception, a digital genesis rooted in the analog rituals of Deadheads in the 70s. Much like those dedicated followers of the Grateful Dead, early Internet denizens sought connection and community, but instead of tapes and stories, they shared bytes and bits in mailing lists and Usenet newsgroups. Here, intellectuals, hackers, and rebels mingled in a digital potluck of ideas, raw and unfiltered.

As the dial-up tones gave way to the persistent hum of a growing network, Internet Relay Chat (IRC) emerged as the heartbeat of this underground culture. Real-time interaction became the new frontier, a global speakeasy where minds met in channels dedicated to everything imaginable. This wasn't just idle chat; it was a crucible for innovation and rebellion. Hacking groups like Cult of the Dead Cow and Legion of Doom pushed the limits of technology and legality, shaping the Internet in their anarchic image.

Then came vaporwave, the eerie soundtrack of a digital dystopia. This genre, with its nostalgic echoes of the 80s and 90s, felt like the Internet itself was creating music. Vaporwave artists like MACINTOSH PLUS crafted tracks that were both haunting and familiar, resonating with those disillusioned by the encroaching corporatization of digital spaces. It was a sonic rebellion, an aural middle finger to the commercialization of the Internet.

Memes, those viral fragments of culture, became the lifeblood of this digital underground. From the early days of "All Your Base Are Belong to Us," a quirky mistranslation from the game Zero Wing, to the complex narratives of modern memes, these digital artifacts spread like wildfire, uniting and dividing communities in equal measure. The tragicomic saga of Harambe, the gorilla shot at the Cincinnati Zoo, turned into a meme that evolved into a cultural phenomenon and even inspired a cryptocurrency in his legacy. Memes are the modern folklore, ever-evolving and reflective of the current digital zeitgeist.

At its core, Internet underground culture embodies the cyberpunk ethos—an unyielding rebellion against corporate overlords, a fight for digital freedom and privacy. Piracy, casual hacking, and the rise of cryptocurrency are not just acts of defiance but declarations of identity. This culture stands in stark opposition to corporatism, advocating for the decentralization of information and power. The emergence of decentralized networks and cryptocurrencies like Bitcoin are testaments to this ongoing struggle for autonomy.

Influences of Discordianism, with its embrace of chaos and rejection of traditional structures, permeate this culture. The Internet thrives on disruption, finding beauty in the unpredictable and the chaotic. It's a digital frontier where order is constantly challenged, and chaos is celebrated.

Politicians view Internet culture with a mix of fascination and fear. The concept of an "ungovernable" digital populace is both an ideal and a nightmare. Early Internet pioneers dreamed of a decentralized, unregulated space where freedom reigned supreme. However, as the Internet has grown, so too have efforts to control it. Governments impose regulations, corporations seek to monetize it, and the original vision of an ungovernable digital utopia becomes harder to live. Yet, pockets of resistance remain, where the spirit of rebellion and the desire for autonomy continue to thrive.

But like any culture, it has a dual nature. The democratization of information and the global connections fostered by Internet culture are profound positives. Yet, the same platforms that unite can also incubate hate speech and cybercrime. It is a reflection of humanity itself, with its myriad facets of light and dark.

So, what is Internet culture in 2024? It is a digital rebellion, a chaotic blend of nostalgia, anti-corporatism, and radical freedom of expression that continues to shape and redefine the digital landscape. In one sentence: Internet culture is the chaotic digital tapestry woven from the threads of rebellion, nostalgia, and the relentless pursuit of freedom.

We seek resistance. It begins with the maintainance of the culture.

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader (The Living Kill Too) Ch. 2

This is the next installment of the series. WARNINGS/TRIGGER WARNINGS: Gore, Zombies, Medical Inaccuracies, Finding Survivors, Rape (mentioned), Pregnancy (mentioned), Birth (mentioned) You've been warned

The night was calm and somewhat balmy as you walked along the street. Rural town life was usually calm like tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. You had received a text from your friend Kane saying he would be home shortly. He had served in the same unit as you and when you both went back to civilian life you both decided to stick it out together. You had a block left before your house, and you stopped to admire the sounds of the night.

The silence was broken by an ambulance wailing in the distance as it went to pick up a patient. Shaking your head you made your way to your house and let yourself in. Taking a shower helped to calm you some more, and then you started on your late dinner. As you finished up Kane came into the house. He said something about taking a shower then he would be down for his dinner. 

The rest of the night went smoothly other than Kane complaining about the overflow of patients coming into the ER with massive fevers and acting erratic to the point of needing restraints. The dishes could wait until tomorrow as you both said goodnight and went to your separate rooms. That feeling was still there like something was wrong, but you relaxed as you checked your gun on the bedside table.

A banging on your bedroom door had you reaching for your gun. When you opened it Kane stood there fully dressed with a rifle in his hands. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”, you yawned trying to wake up fully. “Somethings going on, people are attacking other people”, he said. “What?”, you questioned. He didn’t explain as he told you to pack and pack you did. You remembered watching your town disappear in the side view mirror.

A couple weeks later and all kinds of reports finally filled you in on what had happened. People dying but coming back to life attacking living people. One bite from the dead meant a death sentence, but you and Kane were doing good considering taking shelter in the mountains. Luck though ran out when making a run into a town for more supplies. 

Kane screamed as he was torn apart by deadheads. You raised your gun with your last bullet in the chamber and fired it into his head. Mercy for your friend was the last thing you could give him as you turned and ran for your life. You ran until you realized there was nowhere to go and you were on the third story. The sparkling water of the outdoor pond in front of the store drew your attention.

You ran dodging grasping hands of the deadheads. You had to make it. Kane had sacrificed himself so you could live. Legs aching, lungs burning, hearing the growls and squealing sounds of the dead drove you forward. You made it to the large glass window and jumped through screaming as you plummeted down into the freezing water…

—-----------------------------------------------

You woke with a jolt as you looked around, finding that you were still in Soap’s medical room. Getting up you walked to the small bathroom to relieve your bladder and washed your hands. That's when it dawned on you they had electricity and running water. You marveled at it for a while, but eventually went back out into Soap’s room. You hadn’t noticed the shadow lurking in the room with you as you checked the machines he was hooked up to. You sat back in the chair beside Soap’s bed when you noticed something in your peripheral.

It was moving slowly and then you realized it was Ghost. “Holy shit Ghost you startled me I thought…”, you started, but noticed the odd jerky movement he had. He stepped more into the light and revealed your nightmare. Rotting flesh, hanging jaw and the horrible sound that the deadheads made. You had nothing to defend yourself with as he lunged at you.

—-----------------------------

You thrashed and screamed until you could hear two sets of voices. Opening your eyes you came face to face with a skull mask and that sent you into more of a panic. You yanked from the grip and fell onto your ass scrambling back until your back met the wall. Panting you looked around noticing that Soap was sitting up talking, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Then your eyes found the mask again, but it wasn’t bloody and the jaw wasn’t hanging. That's when you realized it was a nightmare you had still been asleep. “Easy, ya’ were screaming and thrashing in yer sleep lass. It’s alright yer safe”, Soap’s voice finally broke through. Ghost stood there not sure if he would send you into more of a panic or not. 

“You're alive”, you breathed, looking at Ghost. “Yeah had to hunker down a while for the dead to pass after leadin’ em away”, he responded. You nodded as he sat down in a chair looking at you with those scrutinizing eyes. “Who’s Kane?”, he asked, but it sounded more like a command. “How do you know that name?!”, you hissed. “That’s who you were calling out to in your sleep before ya’ started screamin’ like ya did”, he replied. 

You mulled it over wondering if you should tell them, but figured there was no point since Kane was gone. “He was someone I served with and when we went back to civilian life he offered me a place to stay. He worked at a hospital and had seen the people coming in with all the symptoms before people started coming back ya know. We fled into the mountains and lived there for a while until we needed supplies.”, you relayed.

“Then we went into this town scavenging and found a motherload of stuff we could use. We got trapped on the third story of this shopping center. Kane… he knew there was no way out and the fresher deadheads were closing in. He took out as many as he could then took them on with his empty rifle. They… they… tore him apart while he was still… alive. I shot him in the head with my last bullet so he wouldn’t have to suffer anymore”.

“Then I jumped out of the third story into a pond they had in front of the stores. I’ve been on my own since”, you finished as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “What else”, Ghost said. “That’s it I stumbled onto you all by accident scavenging for food”, you responded. Ghost stared you down and you knew he wasn’t convinced, but you were not going to tell him how you thought he was a deadhead because of a nightmare. 

Ghost let Soap talk on how the doc was concerned because they were running low on some much needed supplies. That piqued your interest because if your calculations were correct there was a hospital a couple days journey from here. The one that Kane used to work at you knew the layout and where all the things they could ever need would be. “I know where we can get all the medical supplies you need”, you blurted. 

They both stopped and turned your way as if waiting for you to go on. “Kane used to work at the hospital there and I know where everything is”, you continued. Soap and Ghost shared a look then Ghost stood motioning you to follow him. “Where are we going?” you asked, getting up to walk towards him. “Yer going to tell Captain Price exactly what you just told us”, he remarked. You swallowed hard wondering if this was just a ploy to get you alone to slit your throat like he tried to do before.

The walk didn’t take long and once Price waved the both of you in Ghost had you explain about the hospital. You tried to convince Price to let you go alone in case the hospital was a death trap so he wouldn't lose any of his men, but he insisted Ghost go with you. Begrudgingly packing the small supplies you would need, Ghost watched you carefully. No weapons for you was a let down, but Ghost was strapped with knives all over, a pistol and an assault rifle. 

The daylight peeked through the trees as you were led by Ghost to the compound gate. The walk showed you just how large this base was. They had gardens, greenhouses, cattle, chickens and horses. How you wished you could take the horses as it would make the trip faster, but a bad idea the closer to the city you got. Once the gate was open the both of you started the journey. 

The bag for supplies that had been given to you only held a canteen for water and twelve MRE’s to sustain you the trip there and back. It should only take four days in theory to get the supplies and get back. Ghost had his pack with his canteen and own MRE’s although one of the cooks in the mess hall had given him something thickly wrapped in old newspapers. It didn’t take long to realize that he kept his head on a swivel at all times, and would grouse at you if you started ‘laggin’ behind' as he called it. 

You walked all day until Ghost stopped abruptly causing you to bump into him. He looked back at you over his shoulder as you apologized. He had his gaze fixed on some houses at the edge of a small town. “We’ll pick one for the night and sleep there until we’re ready to move in the mornin”, he said. “Okay well which one are we picking? It's getting darker by the minute”, you huffed. Night meant darkness and darkness could keep you from seeing danger until it was too late. 

The first house was a small block house that seemed like it had a small stove pipe coming out of it and the second house was a two story. The small block house only had a few windows and two doors, and the second house had multiple windows and doors. You were leaning towards the two story house, but of course Ghost picked the small block house. It didn’t take Ghost long to sweep and clear the house, and as soon as it was clear he waved you in. The windows were somewhat boarded up, but left a small gap between two boards to be able to see outside. 

You barricaded the back entrance while Ghost went out to a small shed. He came back in with some wood to start a fire in the small stove. Once it was nice and warm he took to fixing his MRE. You watched the outside world for any signs of movement, but nothing was out there. It took you a couple of hours until you felt safe enough to eat. The MRE was the best thing you had tasted as you realized how hungry the journey so far had made you.

Ghost took watch by the door as you finished up your food. “Are you going to sit there all night?”, you questioned. “No jus’ until I know the smell of smoke hasn’t attracted any attention' ', he responded. Nodding at his answer you quickly walked around finding some blankets and pillows. Shaking the dust off of them you could tell they would be warm, but then came the next dilemma. The couch looked inviting, but you figured Ghost would want something more comfortable than the ground so you scooted close to the fire and put your pillows down.

Ghost glanced at you and seemed to raise a brow at you, but he didn’t make any comment as you chucked a pillow next to him followed by a quilt. The silence was deafening, but as you lay there you couldn’t help but feel anxious about the next couple of days. If you made it to the hospital and managed to get in you would have to be cautious and vigilant for any dead that may be roaming the halls. About two hours after he had sat at the window Ghost settled on the couch quickly getting comfortable.

It felt like eight minutes had passed when you heard a slight snore coming from Ghost. ‘Well at least he can sleep’ you thought. You looked over at him seeing his arms crossed over his chest as it rose and fell. Looking up towards his face in the glow of the fire light he still had his mask on which was a little unsettling. You wonder what he looked like underneath it and those thoughts helped you to settle in for sleep.

The next morning you woke up to see the couch empty and nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand placed itself over your mouth. When you turned your head Ghost had a finger to where his mouth would have been. You nodded as he withdrew his hand and you went to gather your stuff when Ghost shook his head and pointed at the window. When you looked out your blood turned to ice in your veins. 

There were dozens of deadheads roaming in the street. “Where did they all come from?”, you whispered. “Dunno but it may have something to do with that”, he said, watching a woman carrying something against her chest dart between houses to avoid the dead. “She is heading this way, she must have seen the smoke. We can’t leave her out there”, you harshly whispered. He shook his head no, but you moved to the door before he could grab your wrist. 

Unlocking the door and quietly as possible you waved to her to hurry. She darted quickly through the door as you closed it just as quietly as you had opened it. She turned to see Ghost and almost let out a scream had you not covered her mouth. “We aren’t going to hurt you I promise. We need you to be quiet or we attract the flesh eaters out there”, you told her. She slowly blinked at you then nodded. “ I have been making my way here off the mountain since this morning. I thought you may have been my husband. “Your husband?”, Ghost asked. 

“Yes he left a day ago to come down here to scavenge for supplies, but he didn’t come home. When I saw the smoke I figured he had holed up in this house”, she explained. “We haven’t seen anyone”, you replied. “Show me your arms n’ legs”, Ghost cut in. “What?”, the woman questioned. “Show. Me. Your. Arms n’ Legs”, he said again more sternly. “It’s to make sure you don’t have any bites”, you explained to her as she slowly showed her arms then legs. When she moved, that's when you noticed the curls of dark hair peeking out of the swaddle attached to her front.

“You have a child”, you pointed out. “Oh yes this is my son Jack”, she answered with a smile. “How old is he?”, you conversed. “He is two and a half years old”, she responded. You noted she was very young and it was unsettling how young she looked. “What’s your name and how old are you?”, you questioned. She hesitated a little before answering, “My name is Josie and I’m eighteen”, she said. She pulled the toddler out of the swaddle and put him on the floor.

He stood up shakily and waddled over to Ghost and looked up, cocking his head. Ghost tensed, but stood still as the toddler seemed to assess him. Then he put his hands up as he giggled as if waiting for something. Ghost cocked his head at Jack until his mother apologized saying something about that was his way of asking to be picked up.

For the next couple of hours Ghost kept watch as the deadheads moved out of the town. “Alright pack up (Y/N) and be ready to move out”, he informed you. “Wait where are you going, maybe we can come with you”, Josie seemed on edge. “Where we’re going is dangerous and we will need to be quiet. I doubt you can keep him from crying if it were life or death���, Ghost harshly told her. 

You glared at Ghost as he shrugged and packed up his things. “Maybe you can wait here and we can get you on the way back. That way if your husband shows up you won’t be far away”, you suggested. Josie seemed very hesitant and that is when you noticed the signs. “You didn’t choose your husband did you?”, you asked. 

Josie’s head flew up so fast you thought she would snap her own neck. “How did you…”, she trailed off as Ghost stood by the door watching this little drama unfold. “If you were truly looking for your husband you wouldn’t have ran in when you saw me waving to you. You don’t seem too concerned about finding him, which I assume is why you are running from him. On top of all that if you're eighteen then you were sixteen when you had Jack”, you finished. 

Ghost watched as Josie’s face fell as she was about to speak again. “You can tell your story on our journey”, Ghost said as he shouldered his pack. You grabbed your stuff as Josie put Jack back in his swaddle on her chest. About forty-five minutes later Josie explained to the both of you how she had been traded by her father for food. How the man at first made her clean and do mundane things to keep his cabin tidy, but after a month of living there he kept talking about how she reminded him of his wife. How she was eaten right in front of him.

Josie continued to talk about how he and his wife had wanted to start a family. Then he suggested he could start a family with her, and when she refused he tied her to the bed raping her until she got pregnant. Ghost stiffened and had a white knuckled grip on his rifle. He made up his mind if he ever came across the man he would kill him slowly. You listened with tears in your eyes thinking of how terrified Josie must have been. You all stopped for an MRE on the way giving one of yours to Josie and Jack, before picking back up on the trek.

“I so badly wished that I would have miscarried, but he watched me like a hawk. I tried to kill myself a couple of times, but he found me before I could fully commit. Then when I started feeling the kicks I couldn’t bring myself to kill either of us. He was gone when I went into labor. I was so terrified I had no idea of how to deliver a baby let alone my own baby. It went by so fast, several pushes and he was out. I pulled him into my arms and I promised I would never let anything happen to him naming him Jack”, she finished. 

Ghost was in his own head remembering his time when he had been captured and tortured. His mind was a dangerous place, but it kept him alive and that’s what mattered. You watched Ghost as he continued ahead. You noticed he seemed somewhere else as he continued. Night was four hours away, but you had made it just outside the city. Ghost quickly pulled his binoculars off and surveyed. It was a small city and he quickly spotted the hospital on the other side. It would take too long to hike around you and he would have to go through it. 

“Josie, there was a house back there that we passed. I want you to stay there while we go for supplies”, Ghost commanded. “No I want to go with you”, she argued. “It's too dangerous and we don’t know what’s down there”, he countered. “Fine when should I expect you back?”, she questioned. “Before nightfall”, he responded. You assured her that you both would return as Ghost had said. She headed off back towards the house he had mentioned. 

“Ya’ see any deadheads down there or does it seem clear”, you asked hopeful. “The streets have some wanderin’ aroun’, can't say for the streets I can’t see' ', he gravely replied. “Well no time like the present”, you said. He nodded and you both set off towards the city to get the supplies you had come so far for.

[narrettwist]

Thanks for the tag @redhoodinternaldialectical . Sadly I'm a Pandora music person and they refuse to give us fun things like user listening stats so I just picked 5 songs that I'm known to put on repeat, plus I changed it a bit so it wasn't all songs by Electric Callboy.

@bonefydskeleton @nrofthedeep @magsdomino go for it I guess.

[1863-project]

So obviously a transcontinental train takes a while to get across the country but how does that work is it just like two guys on a train for a week????

Hi, anon, and sorry for the belated response! There's a lot to work through in my inbox and my new job keeps me verrrry busy.

Crews in the United States actually switch off every twelve hours, as per the FRA mandate. They're also legally required to have at least ten hours of rest before they work again. For those freights that take their damn time crawling across the country, this means that every twelve hours there's a change, a lot like a horse change for a stagecoach or sled dogs switching out. The locomotives will generally stay on the train unless there's a mechanical problem, at which point they'd be switched out ASAP, but for the most part it's the crew that does the changes these days, and they legally have to every 12 hours.

If a crew is riding somewhere on the railroad infrastructure they work on, usually to get to their work positions, but not operating the train, they're deadheading.

[guerrerense]

101 Passing Through Eagle por Kevin Madsen Por Flickr: WSOR 101 passes through Eagle, WI with the four car passenger deadhead move from Horicon to Madison behind the Wissor's A-B-A E-units on 11/11/11. Left Superior on Veteran's Day morning and drove about 5 hours, almost non-stop to Eagle for this shot. Got out of the car while the chasers were arriving and as the clouds were clearing the east. Five minutes later we were treated to this. Good timing for me going to my first Beecherfest, shooting this train on the way. First time I have shot the WSOR E-units. The buildings along the tracks in Eagle remind me of towns further north, like Champion, MI in the U.P.

[aryburn-trains]

There was a time when GO Transit had quite a variety of locomotives leading its trains. Like many commuter agencies it expanded its network in fits and starts and its motive power followed suit. GO 904 was one of GO's APCU fleet (Auxiliary Power Control Unit), F units that no longer powered the train but provided power to the cars and a cab when the train was in push mode. This is train #982 deadheading back to Willowbrook for the night after an afternoon rush hour trip to the old CN station in Hamilton, just getting out of town ahead of the shadows. June 13, 1989

[adammiller454]

What is the difference between a pruner and a secateur?

Pruners and secateurs are indispensable tools for gardening and landscaping, frequently employed to trim, cut, and shape plants. Although these terms are often used interchangeably, there are slight differences between them based on where they are used and how they are specifically applied. Having a good grasp of the distinction between pruners and secateurs can assist gardening enthusiasts in choosing the appropriate tool for their specific requirements, resulting in improved plant well-being and more convenient upkeep.    Understanding Pruners and Secateurs  Pruners are a must-have for any gardening enthusiast. These versatile tools come in different sizes and designs, perfect for pruning, trimming, or cutting plants. From compact hand tools to longer-handled loppers, there's a pruner for every gardening need. There are various types of pruners available, including hand pruners, loppers, hedge shears, and more. There is a wide variety of tools available, each designed for specific gardening tasks. As an avid gardener, you'll appreciate the versatility of hand pruners and loppers. Hand pruners are perfect for delicate tasks like trimming stems and branches, while loppers are designed to tackle those thicker branches with their long handles. CutAbove Tools offers the best long handled secateurs.    Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, Australia, and various other regions, the term "secateurs" is used to describe hand pruners. These handy tools are perfect for meticulous pruning and cutting of plants. Secateurs are commonly used for tasks such as trimming shrubs, cutting small branches, and deadheading flowers. They are essential tools for any gardening enthusiast.    Simply put, pruners encompass a variety of cutting tools, while secateurs are a specific type of hand-held pruner designed for smaller, more precise cuts. However, it's common for people to use the terms pruners and secateurs interchangeably when discussing this particular tool.    Functionality and Usage  Although the terminology may vary, the purpose and use of pruners and secateurs are quite similar. Both tools are essential for trimming and shaping plants, promoting healthy growth, and eliminating any dead or damaged portions.    There are a wide range of tools available for pruning, each serving a specific purpose. For instance: 

  Hand pruners/secateurs are perfect for those who have a passion for gardening and enjoy tending to their plants with care. They are specifically designed for delicate cutting tasks such as trimming shrubs or cutting flowers. 

  Loppers are a fantastic tool for cutting thicker branches that are too large for hand pruners. They are perfect for those who have a passion for gardening and want to tackle those bigger pruning tasks with ease. 

  Hedge shears are an essential tool for maintaining the perfect shape and appearance of your hedges and bushes. 

  Secateurs are a specialised tool designed for precise pruning. They are compact and ergonomically designed to fit comfortably in your hand, typically measuring between 6 to 9 inches in length. These tools are perfect for pruning small branches (up to ¾ inch in diameter), removing dead flowers, and delicately trimming plants. These tools offer accuracy and are typically crafted for more intimate gardening projects in a garden or backyard setting. 

  Pruners and secateurs come in a variety of types. 

  There are various types of pruners and secateurs available, each with its own cutting mechanism. Here are some examples:    Pruners/Secateurs: These function similar to scissors, utilising two curved blades that glide past each other to create a precise and neat cut. These tools are perfect for trimming fresh, vibrant plant material like stems, flowers, and branches.    Anvil Pruners/Secateurs: These feature a single cutting blade that closes onto a flat surface (anvil), mimicking the action of a knife against a chopping board. These tools are perfect for trimming lifeless, parched, or sturdy branches.    Pruning Tools: These handy tools provide a cutting action in stages, making it a breeze to trim through thicker branches without putting too much strain on your hand. They can be quite beneficial for individuals who have limited hand strength or suffer from arthritis.    Main Distinctions 

  There is a notable distinction between pruners and secateurs when it comes to their terminology. In the world of gardening, there are slight variations in the terminology used for certain tools. For example, the term "secateurs" is commonly used in the UK, Australia, and other Commonwealth countries, while in the U.S., "pruners" is the more frequently used term. When it comes to gardening, secateurs are essential tools. They are handheld pruners that every gardening enthusiast should have. However, it's worth noting that the term "pruner" can also encompass larger tools.    Pruners are a must-have for any gardening enthusiast. They come in different types, each designed for specific pruning tasks. From small cuts to heavy-duty work, there are hand pruners, loppers, and hedge shears to choose from. Secateurs, however, are specifically designed for hand-held pruning tasks that require a more delicate touch.    When it comes to cutting branches and stems, secateurs (hand pruners) are typically designed to handle materials that are around ¾ of an inch in diameter. If you're dealing with larger branches or thicker material, you'll need to use different pruners like loppers. These are not usually called secateurs. CutAbove Tools offers the best long handled secateurs.    Basically, the distinction between pruners and secateurs primarily boils down to the way they are referred to and used in different regions. When it comes to tools for cutting and trimming plants, there are pruners and secateurs. Pruners cover a wider range of cutting tools, while secateurs are specifically designed for more precise and smaller-scale cutting tasks. Through a thorough understanding of these differences, gardeners can carefully choose the right tool to meet their unique requirements, resulting in vibrant and impeccably cared-for plants. 

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

Cash Swanson was about to sit down to his favorite meal. Cash’s wife, Patti, knew all of his favorites and prepared a new one every night. Prior to Patti, Stafford wasn’t a big eater because he didn’t know how to cook anything that he liked, and everything that he liked cost an arm and a leg if he went out to a diner, so it was mostly hot dogs, hamburgers, tuna fish mixed into macaroni, and lots of Budweiser. He had, in fact, once characterized his diet to a group of horrified acquaintances as “burgers and beer, bitches.”

This was all BP (before Patti), so it was deep twentieth-century stuff. Stafford was a heavy-duty boomer who had gone from peanut gallery to Mouseketeer to card collector to rock and roll to Beatlemania to pothead, acidhead, deadhead, hippie, drummer, road-tripper college guy, professional, sports writer, married guy, father, farmer, gambler, divorcee, remarried guy, (AP) stepfather, grandfather, retiree, and TV addict.

Of all his myriad twentieth-century addictions, TV was the most ferocious, and CNN was rapidly becoming the snarling king of that jungle when he wasn’t watching the Mets or the Yankees or the Knicks.

Cash considered himself a twentieth-century man. He got the delivered fishwrap every day and loved it. Cash had no credit cards; he let Patti take care of all that !*&!@. He didn’t know Twitter from Fakebook, and as he often said, "couldn’t give a rat’s ass less." He didn’t have a cell phone as he appreciated his alone time almost as much as Patti, who loved it.

The news on this day was all about Charlottesville.

Despite his disdain for the 24-hour news cycle and the constant barrage of sensationalism, Cash found himself irresistibly drawn to the screen, compelled to watch what he often opposed.

Cash’s compulsion to tune into CNN was driven by a need to stay informed, even though he was fully aware that the news often left him feeling more disillusioned than enlightened. He saw the network as a snarling beast, reigning over his TV habits with a ferocity that both repelled and fascinated him. The more he watched, the more he felt the tension between wanting to stay connected to the world and wanting to escape its madness.

This dichotomy was particularly evident in his reaction to the news about Charlottesville and the removal of Confederate statues. Cash was conflicted—on one hand, he respected history and understood the significance of figures like Robert E. Lee; on the other, he recognized the toxic use of these symbols in contemporary society. CNN, with its relentless coverage and often polarizing narratives, forced Cash to confront these uncomfortable truths. It was as if the channel was holding a mirror to his own internal conflicts, magnifying his anxieties about the changing world.

The news on this day was all about Charlottesville.

That was quick, Cash thought to himself. I went from being an objective historian to a fascist Nazi just by sitting on my ass.

When he heard they were taking down the statue of Robert E. Lee, Cash wondered, Why bother with Robert E.? The guy is an iconic figure in American history. Why are they taking his ass down?

According to CNN, which is pretty much the truth, He ain’t no hero, Jim. He’s a goddamned racist, terrorist who waged war against the United States. In other words, he was a revolutionary who took a side and lost, as opposed to Washington, who took a side and won.

Then how do we deal with our brothers and sisters from the South who were related to terrorists, which means millions of folks? Do we tear them down too? You better believe if they show their racist, terrorist asses again like they did 150 years ago.

Don’t those assholes know that when they say the pledge of allegiance, they are saluting ONE republic INDIVISIBLE, goddamnit.

The issue with these statues isn’t just about history; it’s about how they’re being used in the present. Folks are using these statues as rallying points to rationalize their hatreds.

Cash didn’t hate anybody. Although, I suppose I hate Nazis. Does this mean I hate Nationalists? Does this mean I hate Socialists? And if I don’t HATE Nationalists and/or Socialists, does this make me a Nazi? I am not a goddamned Nazi.

All because of a statue. All because of a golden calf, y’all. Nobody told me there’d be days like these. Strange days indeed.

Who knows, pretty soon it might be dangerous to watch Gone With the Wind anymore or enjoy The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, maybe even Elvis.

Jeezuz Christ.

“Cash, turn off the TV. Dinner's ready.”

Cash headed for the table. Twenty minutes later, he would be a changed man. A gut full of chicken French kinda takes your mind off of anything other than digestion.

Yet, despite his grumblings, Cash couldn’t bring himself to turn off the TV. There was a part of him that thrived on the outrage, that needed to engage with the very things that disturbed him. It was a peculiar kind of masochism, where the discomfort of watching CNN became a weirdly satisfying ritual. He wasn’t just consuming news; he was grappling with it, wrestling with the implications, and trying to reconcile his own beliefs with the reality being broadcast to him. Cash was a man caught between eras, longing for the simplicity of the 20th century but unable to completely detach from the complexities of the 21st. His attachment to CNN, despite his disdain, was symbolic of this tension—he was a 20th-century man trying to make sense of a 21st-century world, one news segment at a time.

Although he never “served,” he knew enough to say “welcome home” to his brothers who had served in Nam. Stafford thought his “service” was all about doing whatever he could to get us the hell outta there.

All that was behind him now, and what was in front of him was his first serving of Chicken French. Both Cash and Patti knew that there were at least three more helpings available. Cash also knew that he would say no to anything other than the first helping and then go on to helpings two and three, intoxicating himself and pleasing Patti with his suddenly gargantuan appetite.

Cash wasn’t hungry before he caught a whiff of the French. When he saw it in front of him, he was famished as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, as if last night’s banquet didn’t count.

After dinner, Cash turned CNN, and Wolf Blitzer blitzed him again.

[brookewalkerblog]

Carpooling Revolution: The Eco-Friendly Future of Taxi Services

In recent years, the rise of taxi booking apps has transformed urban transportation, offering convenience and efficiency to millions of users. However, as entrepreneurs and startup leaders in the mobile app development industry, it’s crucial to understand the environmental impacts of these services. This article explores the dual nature of taxi apps' influence on sustainability, backed by relevant statistics and insights from industry experts.

The Environmental Landscape of Transportation

Transportation is a significant contributor to greenhouse gas emissions, accounting for approximately 29% of total emissions in the United States alone. Traditional taxi services, primarily powered by fossil fuels, exacerbate this issue. The combustion of gasoline and diesel vehicles releases large amounts of carbon dioxide (CO2) and other pollutants, contributing to climate change and air quality degradation. The urgent need for sustainable alternatives has never been more pressing.

The Role of Taxi Booking Apps in Promoting Sustainability

Taxi booking apps have emerged as a key player in the shift towards greener transportation. Here’s how they contribute to sustainability:

1. Encouraging Electric and Hybrid Vehicles

Many taxi apps are now integrating electric and hybrid vehicles into their fleets. This shift not only reduces emissions but also promotes the adoption of cleaner vehicle technologies among taxi operators. A study highlighted that ride-hailing services could reduce emissions by up to 50% if they transitioned to electric vehicles. As a mobile app development company in USA, investing in features that support electric vehicle options can position your app as a leader in sustainable transport.

2. Optimizing Routes for Efficiency

Advanced algorithms in taxi booking apps analyze real-time traffic data to optimize routes. This capability minimizes unnecessary driving and reduces fuel consumption. According to research, efficient routing can cut fuel usage by 10-20%, translating to significant emissions reductions. By prioritizing route optimization in your cab booking app development, you can enhance user experience while contributing to environmental goals.

3. Facilitating Carpooling

Carpooling features in taxi apps allow users to share rides with others traveling in the same direction. This not only reduces the number of vehicles on the road but also lowers emissions. A study found that ride-sharing can decrease the number of cars needed by up to 40%, significantly alleviating traffic congestion and its associated environmental impacts. As you develop a white label taxi booking system, consider incorporating robust carpooling functionalities to appeal to eco-conscious users.

4. Promoting Multi-Modal Transportation

Integrating taxi services with public transportation options enhances urban mobility sustainability. By offering seamless transitions between taxis, buses, trains, and bikes, apps can encourage the use of public transport, further reducing reliance on personal vehicles. This holistic approach to transportation is essential for reducing the overall carbon footprint of urban travel.

The Flip Side: Environmental Challenges

Despite these positive contributions, taxi booking apps also face criticism regarding their environmental impact:

1. Increased Vehicle Miles Traveled (VMT)

The convenience of ride-hailing services has led to an increase in vehicle miles traveled. Research indicates that ride-hailing services contribute to a rise in VMT, with some studies suggesting that they can increase emissions by up to 60% in urban areas. This phenomenon, known as "deadheading," occurs when drivers travel without passengers, further exacerbating congestion and pollution.

2. Traffic Congestion

The proliferation of taxi apps has been linked to increased traffic congestion in cities. The ease of booking rides can lead to more people choosing taxis over public transport, resulting in higher vehicle counts on the road. A report noted that ride-hailing services could contribute to a 15-20% increase in congestion, particularly in densely populated areas.

3. Diversion from Public Transport

The availability of ride-hailing services can divert users from public transportation, cycling, and walking. This shift can lead to a net decrease in the use of more sustainable transport options, which is detrimental to overall environmental goals. As an entrepreneur, it’s vital to consider how your app can complement public transport rather than compete with it.

The Path Forward: Innovating for Sustainability

As the taxi app industry evolves, there are several strategies entrepreneurs can adopt to enhance sustainability:

1. Invest in Green Technologies

Partnering with electric vehicle manufacturers and investing in charging infrastructure can significantly reduce the environmental impact of taxi services. By promoting electric vehicles within your app, you can attract eco-conscious consumers and contribute to a cleaner environment.

2. Implement Dynamic Pricing

Dynamic pricing strategies can encourage off-peak travel, reducing congestion during peak hours. By incentivizing users to travel during less busy times, you can help balance demand and decrease the environmental footprint of your service.

3. Foster Community Engagement

Engaging with local communities and educating users about the environmental benefits of using taxi apps can foster a culture of sustainability. Consider implementing features that allow users to track their carbon savings or participate in community initiatives focused on reducing emissions.

4. Collaborate with Policymakers

Working alongside city planners and policymakers can help integrate taxi services into broader urban mobility strategies. By aligning your app with city sustainability goals, you can play a pivotal role in shaping the future of urban transportation.

Conclusion

The environmental impacts of taxi booking apps are multifaceted, offering both opportunities and challenges. As entrepreneurs in the mobile app development space, it’s essential to recognize the potential for these services to drive sustainability in urban transportation. By embracing innovative technologies, optimizing operations, and fostering community engagement, you can create a taxi app that not only meets user needs but also contributes to a greener future.

The journey towards sustainable transportation is a collective effort, and as a startup leader, you have the power to influence this transformation. By prioritizing sustainability in your cab booking app development, you can position your business as a leader in the green transportation movement, paving the way for a cleaner, more efficient urban mobility landscape. Together, we can drive forward into a future where technology and sustainability go hand in hand, ensuring a healthier planet for generations to come.

[kingjain]

The Grateful Dead Rock Band Hawaiian Shirt And Short

More Than Just a Shirt: A Statement of Belonging This isn't just a Hawaiian shirt. This is a passport to a community. It's a way to express your love for the Grateful Dead, the music that defined generations, and the spirit of peace, love, and unity that resonates with you. Imagine yourself at a festival, surrounded by kindred spirits, all united by the shared joy of the music. This shirt, with its bold design and vibrant colors, is a visual declaration of your connection to that experience. You'll feel a sense of belonging, a sense of shared history, and a connection to something bigger than yourself. This isn't just clothing; it's a conversation starter. It's a way to connect with fellow Deadheads, to share stories and memories of unforgettable concerts.It's a symbol of your commitment to the music, the values, and the community that surrounds it. With every wear, you'll be reminded of the power of music to bring people together, to inspire and uplift. You'll be part of a legacy that transcends time and generations, a legacy that celebrates individuality and acceptance. This Hawaiian shirt and short set isn't just about looking good. It's about feeling good, about being part of something special, about embracing the spirit of the Grateful Dead and its message of peace and unity. It's about expressing yourself and finding your place within a community of like-minded individuals. This isn't just clothing; it's a badge of honor, a symbol of your passion, and a reminder that you are part of something truly unique. It's more than just a shirt. It's an experience.

Get it here : The Grateful Dead Rock Band Hawaiian Shirt And Short

Home Page : tshirtslowprice.com

Related : https://kingjain.tumblr.com/post/722547409911152640/personalized-villain-ursula-purple-white-baseball

[the--magic-never-stopped]

9/7/90 - Richfield Coliseum

[meghanfabulouss]

Music and Fashion Unite: Women's Grateful Dead T-Shirts

Express your love for classic rock with our Women's Grateful Dead T-Shirts. Featuring vibrant designs and iconic band graphics, these shirts are perfect for any Deadhead. Made from soft, high-quality materials, they ensure comfort and style for everyday wear or concert nights. Available in various sizes and styles, our Grateful Dead T-Shirts let you showcase your musical passion effortlessly. Add a touch of nostalgia to your wardrobe with these unique and timeless pieces.

[usacountryguide]

Guide to Extending or Changing Your B1/B2 Visa Status

There are many people who may desire to extend their B1 or B2 visas. A B1 or B-2 visa can be requested by individuals having other sorts of visas in order to modify their status. These upgrades in status and extensions are becoming highly appealing. You may not be aware that B1 B2 visa renewal without interview is possible. B2 or B1 visa application renewal often times do not necessitate an interview, yet resting on each applicant’s circumstances, the decision of conducting an interview and visiting the embassy might be needed. Now it is doable to change B1 B2 visa to work permit indicating B1 & B2 visa holders will now be capable of applying for work authorization & finding employment in the United States under the current rules.

Why Obtain a B1-Visa?

Consulting with colleagues in the company

Travelling on certain dates to attend a conference, meeting, or event for business, science, or education

Estate administration

A contract is negotiated

Taking part in temporary training

Certain individuals holding a B-1 visa are permitted to travel through the United States.

Deadheading: With a B-1 visa, several members of the air crew may enter the country as deadhead crew.

Why Obtain a B2-Visa?

Taking a trip to the US

Visiting the different American cities

Time spent with friends and family

Taking part in various organizational or social activities

Getting medical care from American clinics or doctors

Taking part in amateur musical or sporting events or competitions

Enrolling in study programs that will not earn you any credits, such a cookery class.

Time Limits for B1 & B2 Visas

Since B1 & B2 visas both are non-immigrant visas, their holders can only visit the United States temporarily. The US embassy often stamps a visa sticker onto your passport. The sticker's expiry date throws light on how long (up to 5 years) you require in utilizing the visa.

An immigration officer will indeed examine your passport & visa post your arrival in an airport (or may be some other entry point) to decide whether you are permitted in entering America. The entry stamp, or I-94 stamp, that highlights the entry date, immigration status, & the date via which you should depart (expiry date), in fact will be handed over to you provided admission is permitted. Such visas typically permit the bearer in residing in the United States for about six months to one year.

How to Extend the Status of B1/B2 Visa?

The fundamental procedure for b1 b2 visa change of status is to submit Form I-539. Key Form I-539 criteria include some of the following:

Filing the I-539 form PRIOR to the expiration of your status. In general, it is preferable to speak with a knowledgeable immigration attorney who is familiar with the I-539 filing procedures. Holders of B1 and B2 visas should get assistance or submit Form I-539 at least 45 days prior to their existing visa expiration date.

Filers must justify their request for an extension. The better the clarification, the more precise it should be.

Holders of visiting visas must make it clear how they plan to pay for their daily expenditures, such as food and housing, throughout the extended term.

Filers are needed to demonstrate that they have "already made some arrangements to leave the United States on or prior to the new extension date." Examples include receiving written confirmation of your flight ticket purchases and making plans with your home workplace.

Holders of B1 and B2 visas must also provide justification for why their continuing residence in America will not have a detrimental influence on their ability to find job there. A note from your job verifying that you are allowed to stay, for instance, may be helpful.

Make the $370 filing fee payment. In some circumstances, you could be permitted to submit the Form I-539 extension request beyond the expiration of your B1/B2 visa if you can demonstrate:

There are exceptional situations that cannot be avoided, such as the requirement for hospitalization to treat severe wounds or an unexpected sickness.

The delay's duration must match its cause. You cannot wait months to get an extension if you were just in the hospital for a few days.

It is your responsibility to ensure that you are not "in removal proceedings."

Explain how you did not breach your nonimmigrant status, such as by taking up unauthorized job.

It is never a good idea to wait until the visa has already expired to request an extension. Any late extension request will be met with skepticism by US consulate officials.

Eligibility Requirements

The following criteria must be met for b1 b2 visa adjustment of status, according to the USCIS:

You must presently have a non-immigrant visa and be in the United States.

You need to maintain your nonimmigrant status.

You cannot go against any rules governing your status.

There are no offences you can conduct that would disqualify you.

Steps to Follow for a Change or Extension of Visa Status

To file online, you can create USCIS online account and:

Electronic submission of evidence and payment of fees

Get notices online.

Get case updates and view the full case history for your case.

Connect directly and securely; and

Answer questions on the evidence.

You can use paper to file. You will require:

Observe the guidelines -

Complete and submit the I-539 form.

Pay the filing fees and, if necessary, the biometric fees.

Give the required proof and supporting documentation.

Evidence to Help B1/B2 Visa Extension

You will need to provide documentation for a variety of justifications that can influence the consulate officials to grant an extension, some of which include:

Medical documentation

Letters from family members if they have certain medical requirements and you can only help them if you stay.

A letter from your overseas employer confirming that they are aware of your prolonged absence & that you will have your job whenever you return, together with bank statements and pay stubs, are required.

When the Stay cannot be Extended?

If a foreign national entered the US under one of the following categories, they generally cannot extend the stay (few exceptions may apply:

Visa-waiver scheme

(D nonimmigrant visa) crew member

(C nonimmigrant visa) Passing through the US in transit

Without a visa, passing through the US in transit

Dependant of a fiancé or the fiancé's fiancée (K nonimmigrant visa)

Informant on terrorism or organized crime (and accompanying family; S nonimmigrant visa)

Conversion to Green Card

Through switching from B-1/B-2 visa into the green card, the overseas travelers can live in the US permanently. A nonimmigrant visa or B-1/B-2 Visa is accessible for instant trips to the United States for business matters or pleasure. Non-citizens of US can live, work, & freely travel across the country through the help of a Green Card. With an investment-based immigration employment-based immigration, or family-based immigration, one may convert B1 B2 visa to green card.

Bottom Line

While you are already in the country, it is possible to switch from a B1 or B2 visa status to other sort of visas status, such a work or student visa. However, this needs special steps and USCIS clearance. It is vital to consider that every case differs and that changing the status of your immigration could be a challenging procedure. Thus, it is recommended you consult with an expert who can provide personalized advice catering to your unique situation. Additionally, immigration policies and processes might alter, so for the most recent information, always check the official USCIS site or speak with the legal professionals.

[thewestern]

Chapter 5

Helplessly the Mick looked as Mayor Mockingbird seemingly gravitated toward the small stage. The band was in between songs. Did Larry intend to sit in? Another funny thing about him was that he played the banjo. It was sort of his calling card — a whistle stop parlor trick for all the yokels. Sometimes you had to hand it to him. City slick politicians would go to great lengths to achieve the au natural aesthetic of down-home folksiness. Dress in head-to-toe denim … climb up on some farm equipment … pose with a prize hog. ( … But enough about his wife … ) Heck, the Mayor’s close friend and party-mate wore a bolo tie, boots and a six-x cowboy hat — day in and day out — and he got himself elected to the United States Senate. He stomped them genuine ostrich shitkickers all over them Capitol steps, and would you know what happened next? The President gave that wannabe hillbilly a cabinet appointment … Secretary of the damn Interior. Sure, by the time the next president swore in he was bucked off that gold pony before you could say Jack Robinson. He hardly lasted the eight seconds, but by the grace of god Himself he landed quite softly in a very cushy gig: consulting on behalf of Morningstar Petroleum. (Or more officially the industry group which fronted for them.)

Yes, in American politics it paid to be pastoral, or at least to appear as such. But whatever country-fried humiliation a man was willing to suffer for electoral advancement, few if any would go so far to learn the banjo and pick the fucking Foggy Mountain Breakdown. But that was Larry Mockingbird for you. Shameless in service of himself.  

Scurrying out a few steps ahead, the Mayor’s waifish male page removed a three-by-five note card from his leather padfolio, handed it to the musician stage left with the acoustic guitar, and scampered on back to his boss. The guitar player took a look down at the card, stepped to the mic and said: Ladies and Gentleman, thank you so much for being here on this lovely afternoon. The boys and I are going to take a short break. In the meanwhile, please give a warm welcome to the stage for our dear friend, Mayor Lawrence Mockingbird. [Metered applause.]

Thank you! Thank you all. So much. You know in my line of work it’s rare you have to follow live music, and if you’ve ever had the pleasure to attend a meeting of my colleagues on the City Council, you’d understand why. 

[Polite laughter.]

So let’s hear one more round of applause for this spectacular band, and please go easy on me, I beg you. 

[Frisbee golf clap.]

And … aand … I couldn’t help but notice the song you were playing when I came in. At the risk of incriminating myself, I’ll let you all in on a little secret, but you have to promise not to tell those persnickety councilmembers, because then I’m really in a pickle. Okay, so brace yourselves … Before I entered the beer business, once upon a time, I … was a Deadhead. 

[Stray yelps.] 

I know, I know. Shocking, but true. And people who know this about me often ask, how did you manage to go from following around the Grateful Dead with a bunch of hippies in your twenties — and to be completely honest a good part of my thirties — to becoming the Mayor of the greatest city in the world in your middle forties. And I’d tell them, I haven’t the slightest idea. 

[Incrementally shorter spurt of obligatory laughter.] 

It’s been a long strange trip you could say. 

[Laughter still, with interspersed groans.]

And … aand … It was the man who we’re all here to honor today, our beloved friend Hank, who traveled with me far and wide over this great country, from coast to coast and back, on our quest to see as many shows as was humanly possible. And I’ll spare you the details, for the sake of sparing my political future, so you’ll just have to believe me when I tell you we had the time of our lives. 

Already, the Mick couldn’t help but bristle at this, what was obviously revisionist history. Hank had gabbed incessantly about his Glory Days following the Grateful Dead. Like he himself was playing in the band. These were his war stories. Slanging grilled cheese sandwiches for gas money, rolling around a haystack with the farmer’s daughter, fixing a flat in a white-out blizzard on I-69 (his Vietnam). 

For a few years there I just went Kerouac on everyone’s ass, he’d reflected once, wistfully. Like any half-decent story, a fixture of these psychedelic parables was the comic relief, Larry Mockingbird. And it was laughter at his expense, in case there was any confusion. Recall: Moffett, Mary Ellen. Misadventures with the opposite sex aside, Larry was your classic Touch Head, or an In-the-Darker, which are just two ways of saying he was a phony, a pouser, a tinhorn, a Johnny-come-lately. (Or rather a Larry-come-too-early, as was oft-rumoured in various concentric social circles. Well, it beats the alternative, as Russ argued in a rare and telling defence of his nemesis, Lawrence.) Accusations not to be taken lightly, for If there were one thing a TrueBlue Deadhead could not abide, it was the misappropriation of their culture. 

On the low down, Larry was always more into that yacht rock, adult contemporary sound, Hank said. You know, Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan… blue-eyed soul and all that jazz fusion horse crap. He only tagged along with us to shows to chase skirts, not that he had hardly any luck at that. Give him credit for trying though. That was one thing you had to begrudgingly admire about Larry … he always went where the getting was good. I mean, you try getting laid at a Christopher Cross concert. 

But don’t you be fooled by any of that foolishness, Hank would warn the Mick. When you got between Larry and something he wanted, he could be meaner than a badger. A sow, on her period. For a fact, the most dangerous place in the Metro Area was anywhere between Mayor Mockingbird and a camera, once said one of his most trusted aides turned most fiercest political rival. Yea, he had the banjo, the big words. But when the chips are down? Well, you would do good to forget all that quirky bullshit, lickety split. Make no mistake. Mockingbird was a cold-blooded killer. He would cut your arm off to carry the Seventh District. Sell his own mother into white sex slavery. He’d do it. In a heartbeat.  

The Mayor continued … 

As for the man of the hour, let’s toast, to Hank. [Collective raising of glasses.] If I could be so bold as to try to describe him, I would say, here was a man for his place and time. You know, there’s this word that I love, and the word is Topophilia. Topophilia means love of place. More than anyone I ever knew, Hank had Topophilia.  

Sounds like an STD, the Mick thought. In which case, Hank probably did have it. 

A love of place. [Rehearsed contemplative pause.] Loving something means being willing to sacrifice for it. And we all make sacrifices. Though there are some who sacrifice all — the brave men and women of our armed services, ... and if any of you are here today, I’d like to personally buy you a beer. First responders, too. [Drunken hollers.] I think we all would. [U-S-A, aborted chant.] But, we all have to make sacrifices. When I think back on my life, I’m proud to have worked for the Federal Government as a citizen contractor, and here for the City Government as a civil servant. Still, I can’t think of a time when I’ve had to sacrifice more than when I was an entrepreneur. 

Here I am in a room full of entrepreneurs, and I’m seeing a lot of nodding heads. You’ve all spent the endless days that turn into sleepless nights. You know that to build something for your community. To create jobs that provide for families. To serve your customer in the marketplace. That, my friends, requires a sacrifice that is truly uncommon. 

Oh my god, this is taking forever, Grace thought. Julie was giving her all the signals … She was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. Lay it all on the line. Grace needed an exit strategy to get them out of this bar and back to her apartment, pronto. She had never gotten with a metal chick before. Jam bands were her scene, which made her a strong culture fit at the Newfy. Preferably they could beat her roommates back from their hike, Grace thought. She had a feeling this could get loud.

But then this asshole, who Grace did not recognize from Adam — she did not care for politics or keep abreast of political issues — was making a speech for some fucking reason … And these nerds were standing around all quiet blocking the way out of the booth. That he made allusions to the Grateful Dead had not charmed Grace in the slightest, even as a jam band fan herself. Most fans of the contemporary set — Phish, to a lesser extent Cheese, WSP, etc. — at the very least revered the Dead as the spiritual and artistic vanguards of the genre, such as it was. By contrast, there was a reactionary faction of hardliner Deadheads that dismissed the new school as derivative and shallow. Most of the younger generation were willing to overlook this minority resentment, but a defiant few, Grace among them, returned the favor and resented the Grateful Dead right back. Them and their Baby Boomer, Greatest Generation-ass fans could pound sand. 

Fuck’s sake, here he goes again … 

And I’ll tell you one quick story to that effect. One of our startup war stories, so to speak. When we were just getting going, before we sold our first pint, I called every wholesaler within a hundred miles, every direction. Every last one of them said, no thanks. So not only were we working seven days a week, fourteen hours a day to get our fledgling excuse for a beer business off the ground, but unbeknownst to us, we were simultaneously entering the highly competitive business of beverage distribution. Of course we didn’t have a truck with temperature control. We didn’t even have cars! We had both driven company leases to the jobs we got laid off from before starting the Newfy! 

So, Hank had an on-again-off-again girlfriend who had this busted-up old station wagon. This hunk was a beater’s beater — chipping orange paint job, accented with the wood paneling, lawn mower engine, had to be rolling started. And let me tell you before my administration got to work on the pothole problem afflicting our great roadways, driving that thing was like navigating the Titanic through the North Atlantic. But … buut, when you removed the back seat it could fit six kegs standing up on end. And that was all we needed. On good days we’d even have one riding shotgun, strapped into the passenger seatbelt. 

I can’t recall the girlfriend’s name, it’s been so long … 

(Liar … he fucking remembered.)

… But bless her heart, because somehow Hank convinced her to sell us that jalopy for a song. And I’ll tell you what else, we rode her till she bucked us. Driving to and fro to every dive bar, liquor store, VFW, pool hall, bowling alley. You name it. 

When we were through with it, or I should probably say when it was through with us, that car had more than two hundred thousand miles on it, which some of you know to be about the distance from here to the moon. We thought that was kismet, given our previous careers. As was alluded, many of you know that Hank and I were co-workers before we became co-founders. We spent a combined thirty years at Cavness-Baumann. And then the Space Race ended and the party was over. Here we were, a couple of down-and-out rocket scientists without a clue. 

Again, Hank would have strenuously objected to the Mayor’s accounting of their personal histories. One, not that it mattered, but Hank had worked twenty of those thirty years to Larry’s ten. Second, the term rocket scientist had been applied quite loosely indeed. Larry was a project manager, meaning his job was to hem and haw at the real rocket scientists until they got through with whatever it was he so urgently wanted. 

Hank was one of those quote-unquote rocket scientists, but even he wouldn’t be comfortable with that exact phrasing. Not the title as he understood it implied — guys that work on spaceships. It was true Cavness-Baumann had some NASA contracts, but those guys working on the shuttle program were the real hard cases. They had them boys locked away in a bunker somewhere, doing long division for the rest of their lives. Engineering a quarter-inch rubber gasket that made it onto a rocket booster would count as a career achievement. Unless those rubber gaskets weren’t adequately temperature tested and it was colder than usual on launch day. 

As for them two getting shitcanned when the Space Race ended, again, Larry was half right. The silent starter pistol for the Space Race was the Cold War, and the falling Berlin Wall its finish line. That was the real reason for the contraction of their industry — Aerospace, and Defense. Hank was more of a rocket scientist in the latter sense. Hellcat, Thunderstick, The Penetrator. These were missiles. (Although Hank always thought they sounded like sex toys, especially that last one.) All types — surface-to-air, air-to-surface, air-to-air, submarine-launched cruise missiles, ICBMs, antitank, antiship, assault, tactical. You name it. Yes, they made the rockets that blew up on purpose. Albeit quite often a safe distance from their strategic targets, at the expense of untold collateral damage and civilian casualties. 

If he did work on an aerospace application, it was almost always space-to-earth, as in satellites. Quite often as they applied to missile defense systems, CB’s second most profitable product line to the missiles themselves. Some bad faith critics would construe that to be a conflict of interest. More generously it could be interpreted as vertical integration. 

Other times though it was straight telecom — zapping hundreds of tv channels to a dish on your roof, or pinging that cellular phone in your pants pocket, holstered there atop your pelvic girdle, and by extension your reproductive organs, all throughout the day and the night. 

Privately, Hank was ashamed of what he’d done for Cavness-Baumann. (Would ashamed be the right characterization? Rather, conflicted? Let’s go with conflicted.) He could admit it to himself, and maybe that was more than most, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say so out loud. No, he had trained evasive maneuvers for whenever his previous life’s work came up in polite conversation. For his part, Larry did not share a mutual feeling of contrition. Factually, it was his idea to go with the whole Space Theme when they started out — the brand name being a reference to then-Senator Kennedy’s famous DNC speech, accepting the nomination at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum in ‘Sixty, the rocket tap handles, etc. Since he couldn’t contribute around the brewhouse in any useful capacity, Larry appointed himself the strategic marketing and brand manager. Said rocket scientists-turned-brewers was a compelling founder story. When he sold his shares shortly thereafter, Hank thought about changing the name to something that didn’t remind him of how he personally made the world a worse place, but it was already screen-printed on so much stuff. Glassware, coasters, stickers, t-shirts, the big sign out front. 

Then Hank and I had this crazy idea. What if there was a third place? There’s the home, the workplace, and then what. For many that third place is a church or a temple or some other house of worship, but neither Hank nor I were regular parishioners. More spiritual — in the grand, cosmic sense — than religious. Besides, I don’t know that any congregation would take a pair of tramps like us. 

[Polite laughter, dissipating now quite noticeably.]  

A Third Place. Whither to be among family and friends. Or perhaps to meet new family and new friends. A place for love and fellowship. For community. A place for thinking about the future. 

###

That morning in the handicap stall of the ladies' restroom Kitty took a pregnancy test. I wonder how many girls have pee’d on one of these plastic indicator wands in a bar bathroom, she wondered before stopping herself. She just hated to be judgmental, of herself or others. Beside, it’s not like this baby, if there even was one, was conceived in said stall. Not that it would have made you a bad person. Although couldn’t we all agree though that it wasn’t especially hygienic or considerate of your fellow pub goers. Unless maybe they were into that sort of thing?

All empathy for exhibitionism aside, she would have preferred to take the home pregnancy test at her home. Unfortunately those quarters were somewhat cramped. She felt fractionally better about using the public toilet with the F-word graffitied right there on the door, than she would have, smuggling the soiled applicator stick out of the house in an old hamburger bag.  Either which way she wasn’t ready to tell Mick, whatever the result. And she felt really bad about that. Blend that bad feeling together with what she perceived to be morning sickness, and it had been an all-around crummy day so far. 

She even felt bad about feeling bad. By any reasonable metric, this was supposed to have been unequivocally the best year of her life. Starting a new job at what was considered to be one of the most innovative middle schools in the country. Sure the pay still wasn’t stellar, but it was commensurate with her experience, which was much more than she could say about her last gig. Getting hitched, to the love of her life. That also happened in a bar … this bar … but that was on purpose. Exchanging vows right there beneath the altar of Bertha the bison head. It was a beautiful ceremony, and a damn sight shorter than any nuptials you’d have witnessed in a house of worship. Only thing missing was the officiant. 

Now she was about to find out whether she was about to start a family with that man whom she loved like the sun would shine forever. The most joyous news of her life, it would be — all she ever wanted and more. And yet she couldn’t commit to telling him, the way she had always told him everything else, one way or t’other. Kitty wasn’t the secret-keeping type.

So she tried in vain to occupy her mind, first by grading five-paragraph essays, now by helping the bar replenish for the onslaught of orders sure to be inbound whenever Mayor Peckerwood was through delivering his speech. As for what he was saying, she wasn’t but half listening. 

We spent a lot of time in bars in those days, which we chalked up to our competitive advantage. But this wouldn’t be just another bar. We would brew our own beer! In that way we’d be self-sufficient. Cultivators of our own garden. A company of yeomen craftsmen. Crafting eccentric beer for eccentric people. Truly progressive ales that pushed the boundaries of expectations of style and flavor profile. Recipes that made use of local ingredients whenever possible, imparting our own Western American terroir. Simply put, beer that would inspire a stronger sense of topophilia in all those who imbibed. 

Beer that would make a promise to them. Challenge them. To be more. 

[Fart noise.]

Here we are, many years later. I look around this room. What do I see? Not only does the promise of the New Frontier endure, but here today there are people from all over this Nation who have risen to meet the challenge we set forth. And it all but brings a tear to my eye. You know something — Hank and I’d use to joke: wouldn’t it be great if this were a place where there could be a group at one table, planning a heist? And then maybe a group over here at another table, planning a revolution? Well I believe that dream came true. Because, in a way, you are all rebels. Freedom fighters, in a Craft Beer Revolution! 

Not what Hank was talking about. However, Larry had made out like a bandit. 

Say it with me now: I am … a craft beer … revolutionary! 

[Silence.]

You folks have taken an idea and made it an industry. I know that if Hank were here, he’d be proud as heck about it. 

If Hank were here he’d be wielding an axe, looking for whatever cord was connected to this funky-ass microphone, the Mick annotated again internally. Short of that he’d have been long gone.

And I can assure you that I am proud to be a part of this network of entrepreneurs, craftsmen and craftswomen! [Whoos.] Everyday, I’m inspired by the example you set. As such, in the Mayor’s office I’ve worked tirelessly to transform our city into an Incubator for Innovation, and not just in beer. We are a category-agnostic accelerator — across sustainable energy, natural foods, technology and telecommunications, health and biotech and aerospace and defense. 

The results speak for themselves. Our aggressive corporate relocation recruiting efforts and competitive tax incentive packages have attracted major companies to move their headquarters to this great city. Companies like Morningstar Petroleum, which has committed to creating hundreds of new, high-paying jobs right here in the Metro Area. Morningstar is making sure the world meets its energy needs, responsibly. They’re leading the charge to produce new technologies that reduce emissions. They’re creating more efficient fuels. Now they’re doing it all from a state-of-the-art, multi-million-dollar campus right here in our Seventh District!

That’s because the companies that do business here are a lot like the people that live here. They are engaged members of our community. Perhaps there’s no better example than one of your craft brewing brethren, #x_brüing (pronounced, X [space] Brewing … the hashtag and umlaut were silent and superfluous). Through the One Percent for the Planet initiative, #x_brüing has dutifully pledged to donate one percent of its net profit to social good causes, including crucial programs like the Urban Tree Initiative, which works to maintain and grow our city’s majestic Green Spaces. No doubt work that our friend Hank, who loved the outdoors so dearly, would find worthy of our admiration and support. 

Is Jaime Delano here? Where is Jaime? There he is … Let’s hear it for Jaime and all the folks at #x_brüing for all the great work they’re doing. [Applause muffled through ambient professional jealousy.] Not only have Jaime and I become close friends through his participation in these and other civic issues, but perhaps its no surprise that we are both proud Newfer alumni.

One percent, the Mick pshawed. Quite literally, the least they could do, assuming it’s integers we’re talking. He had a whole separate bone to pick with Delano. For one thing, back when they worked together, Jaime (HI-may) was still Jamie (JAY-mee). Motherfucker done iglesia’d up his goddamn name. No matter. The Mick would continue to call him Dandy Jim, by and by. He was three assistant brewers before Grace — Zeke’s predecessor’s predecessor. If Russ were alive, he’d say, Mick, your ABs have about the retention rate of a Spinal Tap drummer. But that reference would be lost on him; he was not familiar with that band. In any case, Dandy Jim would just have to wait until whenever Mayor Mockingbird was through, if they could ever be so lucky. The Mick trafficked in one grudge at a time … 

But it doesn’t stop in the private sector. We’re taking that very same entrepreneurial spirit and applying it to innovation in civil service. First and foremost, is public safety. Thanks to our public-private partnership with the Downtown Renewal and Revitalization Project, we’ve successfully activated our network of SAFE cameras, which enable the brave men and women of our law enforcement to better harness data and artificial intelligence toward protecting and serving our great city. Since the system went online, I am delighted to report that violent crime is down four percent year-over-year. 

An important aside about the SAFE (Surveilling Activity For Evidence) cameras. Among other peacekeeping applications, the devices were perhaps most effectively deployed in tandem with an integrated gunshot detection technology, which utilized acoustic sensors to identify the sound and pinpoint the location of any firearm discharge within an echo radius of several hundred feet. The camera systems were manufactured by a wholly-owned IT solutions subsidiary of Karakuchi, Ltd., the Japanese conglomerate. Although it provided advanced digital solutions to customers across industry sectors, the Karakuchi brand was perhaps best known for its Kuchi Kendo Stick line of vibrating personal massagers, which was widely adopted by the marketplace for the misintended use case as a masturbation aid for women. 

Secondarily is education. My administration has empowered high-achieving schools like Collegiate Academy of Scientific and Technological Excellence as they disrupt the increasingly obsolete model for public education in this country. Last spring they graduated their inaugural senior class. One hundred percent college matriculation rate. Kids of all races and socioeconomic backgrounds. Truly remarkable. In case any of you haven’t had the pleasure to visit the SciTech campus, I would urge you to seek it out. The architecture and interior design are stunning in and of themselves. Really, it’s the coolest school I’ve ever been inside by a long shot. 

As for the existing schools within our network that have perpetually underperformed, under my leadership, we no longer tolerate failure on behalf of our kids. Look no further than right down the road, to West High School. As of just a few weeks ago, our groundbreaking experiment is underway. With generous philanthropic support, we’ve made massive capital infrastructure investment, manifested in dividing the student body into three micro-academies, thus manufacturing more intimate and engaging learning environments, furthermore fostering a more competitive landscape, or dare I say entrepreneurial spirit among the student body. 

Make no mistake … The rest of the country is taking notice of what we’re building here. Assorted national media publications have ranked us the third best city in which to start a small business, the fourth best city to raise a family and a top eleven city for overall quality of life. And for everybody out there with their love lights turned on, according to another reputable ranking, we are the number two city for singles and dating. [Assorted oohs]. 

Get a grip, Zeke, he scolded himself. On this, unequivocally the most important day of his already fledgling career, all Zeke could think about was Grace, with whom he was deeply in love, and quite hopelessly by the looks of things. Like a flesh eating bacteria, love consumed him. From morning, stepping on his first bus of the day, commuting to work … Till night, stepping off his sixth bus of the day, headed for home. 

Really he was having his first office crush, which anyone with experience can tell you is an altogether separate phenomenon from your standard school crush, for some inexplicable reason. But to Zeke, each new infatuation, regardless of from whence it came, was exactly the same — like spring bloomed anew. Indeed, he was a sensitive young man. And because he also filled out a large frame, he was the sort one might call a Gentle Giant. But really wasn’t that moniker misapplied to any big man who wasn’t proportionally brutish? It’s true Zeke did possess an innocent exuberance that endeared him to many, although usually not in that way. Romantically speaking. So on the other side of the coin, his unguarded personabiity could be a double-edged sword, when even a fleeting attraction would be so easily misconstrued for undying devotion. This making His an existence that was at once blissful and torturous.

Far as he knew, Grace was the first gay person he’d ever known. Here it was just his luck to fall head over heels for someone so uniquely unavailable. The amorous feelings were almost totally unspoken; they had hardly uttered more than a few stray words between them — out of paralyzing nervousness on his account, and unconscious indifference, hers. Rather for Zeke, the spark was physical. Something to do with the way she moved about the brewhouse, with undo elegance, exceedingly worthy of her name. Shot putting fifty-pound sacks of malted barley like they were feather pillows, on which for him to dream of her. Shoveling spent grain from the mash tun with the mechanized fluidity of an excavator, razing the planetary core of his soul. Spraying down the kettle as if to extinguish the fire that burned within him for her. Perhaps he was attracted to her competency in the occupation for which he had proven so inept. Who could say? Whatever it was, the suffocating feeling of seeing her with Julie, and also Margot the night prior, had emotionally metastasized into a fist-sized lump, lodged right there in his larynx. Somewhat confusingly, that sensation was a symptom of heartbreak and asthma. 

Both afflicted him chronically. 

Powerless to fight this feeling, Zeke wanted desperately to shake free from the shackles of his woe, and seize this professional opportunity that had fallen into his lap. After all, here was the Mayor, giving an unannounced speech at one of his coordinated events. The possibilities for social media engagement seemed endless. Actually it was the only moderately engaging thing to occur during his short tenure, outside of a heated dispute over Harry Potter-themed pub trivia that de-escalated just shy of magical violence. (The would-be combatants had managed to fire off a couple of rounds of dueling spells: Expelliarmus and Expecto Patronum, respectively.)

He was even peripherally interested in politics and other local issues  —another thing he and Grace lacked in common — and had in fact cast his very first vote in any election for this very elected official. Twenty-some months previous, during his final semester before graduating West High School, Mayor Mockingbird had appeared at a special assembly to announce the aforementioned awarding of a multi-million dollar grant, endowed by the second richest man in the world, at the time. Wasn’t that something, Zeke thought. The money would be allocated to divide West High into three autonomous academies, to be housed within the existing facility. They were: an academy for culture and the arts, an academy for global marketplace and international studies, and an academy for Future Leaders. 

Zeke didn’t have to give much thought unto which category he fell, being that he already had plans to attend City College in the fall, where from he had since taken a sabbatical of indefinite duration. He also didn’t have any opinion on the consternation the decision caused among his classmates and the broader community. In that moment he was more swept away by the spectacle of the thing. The mayor, visiting his school, on behalf of the second richest man in the world — at the time — no less. Alas, the latter could not attend personally. However in his stead, he was kind enough to dispatch one of those really big checks for the photo opp. You mean like Happy Gilmore, Mick would have asked. Zeke didn’t know who that was, so no … he could not be certain. 

In a flash of clarity, Zeke remembered his new touchscreen camera phone. The Mick had issued it to him for work purposes, under the auspices that he could take photos and post them to the internet. But really because Kitty wanted Zeke to have any phone at all, on account of how he took the three buses to-and-from work, even though he only lived the five miles as the crow flew.  In case of there was an emergency. Actually it was the same phone she had given to Mick on his last birthday. Not the same model — that exact one. Mick favored the old Flippy anyway, and he knew Kitty wouldn’t take offense to his regifting, especially if Zeke were on the receiving end. 

Further snapping himself into focus, Zeke trained his digital lens on the Mayor, who any minute now would be arriving at a point … Before I raise one last toast to our old friend, Hank, I have a small announcement I’d like to make here in this place that was so special to us both. Before that though, I want to leave you with an old marketing parable I have cellared away from my days in the beer business. It’s something I share with all my incoming interns, as Charlotte and Schuyler here can surely attest. 

Here the Mayor briefly gesticulated in the direction of the two Larry Youth members whom the Mick saw arrive in his wake. That brief moment of public acknowledgement was one they would not forget as long as they lived. 

It concerns an old brewing outfit by the name of Schpunk Beer. When was the last time you all had a sip of Schpunk? Have any of you even ever tasted Schpunk? Here I am dating myself. Your fathers probably all drank Schpunk. I certainly guzzled more than my fair share of Schpunk as a young man. In any case, there was a time when this company you’ve never heard of, Schpunk Beer, was the third-largest domestic beer producer in the country. Life was good at the Schpunk plant. Until one year, all the corporate bigwigs got together in a boardroom, and some young hot shot came waltzing up with a presentation. He said, you know we’ve done some market testing, and we can change the recipe to cut costs on our ingredients by X percent, whatever it was, and our consumers can’t identify any discernible difference in the taste. 

All the Schpunk VPs looked around at one another and said, well, what are we waiting for? And so they changed the recipe, ever so slightly. Two years go by, and some new slick marketing guy gets back up there in front of the boardroom — by now his predecessor has been promoted for saving the company untold millions — and he makes the exact same pitch. You know we could change the recipe … save X percent …  can’t taste the difference … yada, yada, yada. And all the Schpunk guys say, wow, what a great idea. And they change the recipe again, ever so slightly. 

This cycle repeats itself a handful of times until about a decade goes by, and all of a sudden Schpunk is in the toilet. Chapter Eleven. All those executives are looking around at each other as they’re cleaning out their corner offices, wondering what in the Sam Hell happened here? For Pete’s Sake, they did the market testing … And the tests were accurate. After each time they changed the recipe, and remember they only tweaked it, ever so slightly, the Consumers could not tell a difference in taste. However, what the executives failed to account for, was that all those small compromises compounded on one another. And when you taste-tested the nectar of the gods they started out with, against the backwater dregs it became … You could see the difference from outer space. 

Listen here. 

This is something I tell all my old friends, and I’ll tell you now. In the history of this great country, we are the first generation that is in danger of leaving less to our kids and our grandkids than we had. Take a moment and let that sink in … It’s true. And we are taking losses across the board. The economy, our education system, the environment. Bottom line: in the so-called land of opportunity, the next generation is heading toward a future with less of It. I look around the faces here and I can tell that scares the hell out of you just like it scares the hell out of me. I know you don’t want less. I can promise you I don’t want less. And we can be damned sure that our old pal Hank wouldn’t put up with less. 

No-no-no. We want more. More for our future. More for our kids’ future and their kids’ future. We want more economic development. More education. More environmental conservation. More public safety. And we don't just want more … We need more … We demand more … And no matter what the cost … … … We will sacrifice for more!

As the gathered crowd roared, Mick looked up to the wall at Bertha, then down to the bar at Kitty who met his gaze intently. 

So I put it to you, let’s make a choice, together, right now … to invest in our future. And make no mistake, it’s up to us right here in this room. The leaders. The disruptors. The innovators. The builders. The dreamers. The crazy ones. Those who will show up. Do the work. Folks who get things done.  

Now allow me to put my money where my mouth is. It is my great privilege, in honor of my friend Hank and the dream we all together made come true, to declare my candidacy for the governorship of this great state. 

Welcome to Day One … starting right here and now, we all take more! Thank you all! 

As the Mayor again stuck both hands to the sky, a small passel of balloons fell from the ceiling. Where in the smoking hell did those come from, the Mick wondered, feeling bamboozled.. Right on cue, the band started back in on what figured to be the official campaign song. Out of a career that spanned decades and thousands of hours of recordings, for the Grateful Dead, this was their only ever single to crack the top-one hundred charts. Their one hit. How about that?

Sorry that you feel that way

The only thing there is to say

Every silver lining's got a

Touch of gray

[Groovy standup bassline] 

The Mayor resumed shaking every hand within a wingspan radius, retracing his steps on his way back out the door, his campaign already rolling with the popular momentum of a runaway train. Zeke was holding his camera phone behind the news cameraman, demonstrating the cinematographic instincts to piggyback off his pro lighting rig and better capture the moment. Grace meanwhile was stuck in a moment she wished she could escape. Margot had arrived unexpectedly and had sat right back down in the booth on the other side of Grace from Julie. There she sat betwixt them, awaiting their inevitable discovery of her romantic indiscretion. Kitty was situated behind the bar, still awaiting the oncoming rush. She was wearing her same back-to-school ensemble, accessorized for the fall season with a denim jacket she’d had since she was herself a student. How had Hank’s sort-of funeral been highjacked by a popup campaign rally, she wondered, not that he’d have minded much — whatever animus he felt toward the Mayor. I know I like to take the piss at Larry, he confided in Kitty one Wednesday, getting late, but I want you to know that I truly do hate the man. And it’s a rotten hatred too. It scares me how I could hate another person so completely. Frankly I’m ashamed of it. 

One of the preppy minions — the puggish female page — reached across the bartop and handed her an envelope. The underside was a form for making a donation. In the box marked required, you had to fill out your Name (First and Last), Address, Occupation and Employer. And credit card number and expiration date if that was your preferred form of contribution. The envelope itself was for depositing checks, or better yet cold hard cash. Kitty flipped it over. In the corner there was a little rectangular outline for postage, and then the logo. A shooting star underlining the slogan: More for Mockingbird.

The Mick drop-kicked a balloon away half-assedly as he watched the Mayor make his grand exit. Dandy Jim had joined the party. They were standing back by the front door, waving back at the adoring mass. The news anchor remained in the foreground, producing a microphone and talking into the camera. The sheriff’s deputy was in the shot, chewing gum with purposeful rigor. Off to the side, the representative from Morningstar Petroleum was chatting up an as-yet unidentified woman in a wax canvas barn coat with a corduroy collar, worn over a black turtleneck sweater. The Mick knew he recognized her too, but from where, he couldn’t immediately place. Wait, now he got it.

Well I’ll be damned, he said, out loud this time to no one in particular. 

There goes Hildy Wolff.

[ear-worthy]

Groove On These Sonos Radio Music Podcasts

When listeners think of the most prominent podcast networks, Sonos Radio doesn’t immediately come to mind. First, because Sonos is known for its wireless speakers. Second, because it’s a bigger player in internet, curated radio.

Since Sonos is so focused on music, its podcasts mirror that same degree of emphasis. It’s stable of music podcasts is impressive. More important, if you’re a music fan, they are great fun and a sonic pleasure. I think what separates Sonos’s music podcasts from other music podcasts is the innate sense of excavating the creative forces behind making music.

Between the launch of brand-new series like Margo Price’s Runaway Horses or Emmett Malloy’s America’s Dead — diving deep into the Grateful Dead’s enduring impact with Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig, Mac DeMarco, Animal Collective, mycologist Paul Stamets and so many others — plus the return of Hanif Abdurraqib’s Object of Sound, DJ Lindsey’s Black is Black and more detailed below, the platform has united a boundless community of musicians and collaborators through the power of personal, audio storytelling.

For music fans, these podcasts are a delight. Check these out:

America’s Dead

With GRAMMY-winning filmmaker, producer and Deadhead Emmett Malloy as its spiritual guide, this limited-run, ten-episode series is a journey to understand how the Grateful Dead forever changed music, culture and consciousness. As Variety says, “America’s Dead asks listeners the question: What can the Dead tell us about us? The podcast reveals the answer through a compelling audio story that identifies the power of the Dead in constructing identity and community.” Fascinating conversations are shared with multiple generations and genres of musicians, a religious scholar, mushroom scientist, streetwear designers, original band and business members, the founder of a sobriety group and more. Start with “Paul Stamets Says Eat Your Mushrooms,” “Finding Sobriety Through the Dead with Grateful Don,” “The Dead are Channeling God with Dr. Varun Soni and Sage,” or “Ezra Koenig, in Defense of the Dead.”

Object of Sound

Hosted by poet, essayist and critic Hanif Abdurraqib, the latest installment of the acclaimed podcast has further brought listeners in tune with the music shaping culture. Blending the eclectic curation of freeform radio with textural storytelling and artist interviews, each episode guides you to a new way of listening. Recent highlights include Björk, Mavis Staples, a mini-series on The Wonders of Songwriting featuring Carly Rae Jepsen, Nick Hakim and Ravyn Lenae, a tribute to Frightened Rabbit’s Scott Hutchison, Eddie Fowles & Imani Dixon on Detroit Techno, NY Times critic Wesley Morris on favorite Black movie soundtracks, and Yaeji, which Vulture named one of the Best Interviews of 2022 So Far.

Runaway Horses

GRAMMY-nominated singer, songwriter, published author and generational talent Margo Price hosts inspiring conversations with artists who aren’t afraid to break the mold and follow their own path. All six episodes in this first season are about the search for freedom through music and the shared human experience, featuring heroes and contemporaries like Emmylou Harris, Amythyst Kiah, Swamp Dogg, Bob Weir, Bettye LaVette and Lucius.

Black is Black

A monthly show exploring the significant and continuing legacy of the Black Diaspora, hosted by visionary creative and nightlife contributor DJ Lindsey. Highlights include “The Roots of Jungle / Drum & Bass with DJ Krust & DJ Flight,” “Where’d The Saxophone Go?” on the most recent disappearance of the instrument from pop music, and “Amapiano,” a sound created in South Africa and spawned from house music, kwaito, bubblegum, bacardi, jazz, hip hop, and gqom.

Sheroes Mixtape Memoir

Each womxn’s life has its own soundtrack — songs that become symbolic of important moments and relationships, creative sparks, challenges, and triumphs. This is where you’ll hear womxn who make music share the music that made them. Hosted by radio personality and trusted interviewer Carmel Holt, the bi-weekly show explores the power of song and its lasting impact on womxn’s lives and creativity, bringing a new twist to artist-curated playlists through female and feminist perspectives not yet equally represented in music. Episodes challenge stereotypes, break barriers and build understanding. Start with Tori Amos and Santigold.

Radio Hour

In a weekly show hosted by Elia Einhorn, listeners connect with artists through their musical influences and obsessions, shared through in-depth interviews and DJ sets. The year’s eclectic and visionary array of guests include Arooj Aftab, Baxter Dury, Cate Le Bon, Cecile McLorin Salvant, Charlotte Adigery & Bolis Pupol, Lido Pimienta, Lykke Li, Ravenna and many more.

Imaginary Soundtracks

Every music supervisor has a stash of tracks they’ve earmarked for future use in a project. Sometimes they are well-known songs, but mostly, these are deep-cut, obscure, and beloved. With each episode, host DJ Bunny Ears (aka Eric David Johnson) brings in a fellow music supervisor and together they build an incredible playlist — effectively pretending it’s an imaginary soundtrack made of hidden-gems. Start with Matt FX and Maggie Phillips.

From The Basement

Audio episodes from the relaunch of the critically-acclaimed live music series are available exclusively on Sonos Radio. Produced by Nigel Godrich, sessions include IDLES, Sons of Kemet, Caribou, Warpaint and more.

Music Made Us

The show from Wax Poetics and Sonos Radio takes listeners on an eight-stop journey across the United States, exploring how music’s influence helped shape and build the character of each locale. Highlights include Detroit with Waajeed and Philadelphia with DJ Jazzy Jeff.

Dada Strain Radio

Investigating the crossroads of improvisation, rhythm, and community, the monthly show is hosted by prolific writer and editor Piotr Orlov (NY Times, Pitchfork, NPR), who hones in on the rich intersection of jazz and dance as a blueprint for the development of music, and potential social futures. The first season finale, “Bird Songs for Breezy,” honors the memory of late trumpeter/composer/improviser Jaimie “Breezy” Branch.