#cross-border energy trade

[nepalenergyforum]

MCA-Nepal's Four-Year Commitment to Project Completion Announced

Electricity transmission project, contract agreement for three substations, road maintenance, significant progress claimed in access to project and construction sites, and livelihood restoration. Kathmandu — Millennium Challenge Account (MCA-Nepal) made public the one-year progress of the project on Wednesday. MCA-Nepal also clarified that the project will be completed within the stipulated…

[m1d-45]

dead leaves

summary: the creator is meant to be worshipped and praised, exalted to the highest of high. so… what went wrong?

word count: 1.2k

-> warnings: mentions of blood, you die multiple times, bitter(?) ending, spoilers for xiao lore (but it’s not said to be xiao specifically so technically you could read and just not know it’s him but now that i’ve said that you know it’s him so-)

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me

< masterlist > || next >

it wasn’t meant to happen like this.

it was never to occur at all, in fairness, but like this?

the clouds parted to make way for a single glitering star, shining a white hot gold. the whole world turned, stopped and stared in awe, every leaf on every stalk bearing witness to the one they called god.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. the golden shine poured through the tall windows of a palace meant for you, the heretic in a crown ordering your people to betray you. their hands shook where their followers could not see—perhaps even they were aware of why the trees were rejoicing.

you, blessed you, torn from your home by the divinity in your blood, picking yourself up from sand with barely a vague memory of your location. walk, climb, walk again, and that’s where you learned how to swim, led on by the crumbling stone of barbatos’ statue. the squirrels chittered and the hilichurls retreated, not wanting to frighten you, bandaged hands seeking shields and clubs to keep busy instead.

mondstat is the nation of anemo. happy and bustling, merchants calling across courtyards, adventurers waking with the sun to continue their trade. a cool breeze welcomed you, tugging you along a stone bridge, the winds quiet.

so quiet, in fact, that the archon stirred from his slumber early, reaching for his bow.

you never even made it to the city gates. the doves on the bridge hopped closer as you approached, the knights on duty watching how eagerly they pressed themselves against you. a nod, a twist, a chain of knights leading up to the headquarters, all set on edge the moment the acting grandmaster cleared them to engage.

the first casualty was a bird. it had flung itself into the air, halting the arrow in its tracks, drawing your attention to the man standing atop the city wall. another bird died before you understood his crime.

leaves dappled the ground in shades of green, warm light falling on you as you ran. you didn’t know where you were going, really, and why would you? who had a contingency plan for when everyone they loved turned away? the river tumbled over smoothed rocks, the bright beacon of the statue of the seven pleading for forgiveness even as it’s archon wanted you dead.

mondstat was the city of freedom. could it still be called that when you bled out before you could reach the border?

you couldn’t die. literally, you couldn’t. ley lines converged where you were crossed, absorbing the dissipating flakes of your physical body. the earth hummed beneath the anemo archon’s feet as he watched divine blue blood be sucked up and swept away. was it a hallucination? how would he know?

elemental energy coursed through the earth, sprouting again at the geo through which it bled, releasing the holy light it carried and supplementing with its own. within the hour your eyes opened again, unsure whether to pray it was a dream or wonder which god could hear you.

liyue, nation of geo. the stone hummed beneath your feet, though you didn’t walk toward the city. you’d learned your lesson fast, and a spear to the gut would certainly take longer to kill than an arrow to the neck. not that it mattered, of course—the adepti are too in tune with the land to not have noticed your arrival.

as it turned out a spear does hurt more, which you learned when you found it sprouting from your stomach in the split second before the pain hit. bright jade stained blue, betrayal glimpsed in the dying eyes of the one alatus once called his savior.

and it began anew.

teyvat bubbled with anger, torn between enacting vengeance on those that hurt its maker and protecting you. you were taken to places of shelter, but people learned to follow where nature raged loudest. even if they didn’t, if storms kicked up in false alarm to draw them away, intuition toward their creator was sewn into the hems of every living creature. hilichurls could only hold up for so long, and the millelith were used to dealing with vishaps. the dense forests of sumeru were memorized by the most vigilant forest watcher, the consecrated beasts in the desert too big to keep up with the agility of the general mahamatra.

how cruel for you to die like this, at the hands of the ones you should have been able to trust. how cruel for you to die at all, stabbed in the back by those who should have worshipped you.

the one on your throne was tolerated, just barely so, rationalized as the people needing an idol to follow in your continued absence. but now you were here, now they had no reason to be, and visions began to go haywire whenever they entered the throne room. boars outran hunters, trees tangling over boots as nature wrought vengeance on behalf of its god.

you were everything.

every scholar sought to understood your world further, your spirit found in every star in the sky. to study the world was to study you, how every string was woven into the universe. when you looked to the earth the soil said hello, the trees bowing before their creator, and yet your most beloved artwork was the one that hated you the most. was it hubristic to think a mortal could truly kill a god, or pathetic that they believed the fraud so quickly? they didn’t have elemental energy buzzing at their fingertips, they didn’t have the respect of the world, only commanding people, those easily swayed by a similar face and lucky coincidences. they were nothing like you, you who held galaxies in your blood, you who created the sky and the seas and the creatures within, who created everything. who was everything.

…and now you were nothing. lost in the ley lines that frantically searched for a place to host your body, outrunning the hunt for the god of all. nothing, half conscious in the heart of the earth, within a cave that had cracked open for this very purpose. hidden, the entrance sealed by stone itself, only allowing in slimes that helped sustain you. how cruel, the skies wept, torrents of rain falling in punishment. the fraud barely left the palace anymore, which was only standing thanks to reinforcement from the geo archon. were it not for their lie, they would be dead a thousand times over, killed in every way you had.

but they were in the palace, hidden where the world could not reach. so stone cradled your body, carefully ensuring you still continued to breathe, leylines redirecting to offer energy. not awake, not asleep, stuck in a stasis while hell raged around you.

it’s alright. teyvat would have its revenge eventually. lightning would find its way into the palace, someone would bring something carrying elemental energy into the throne room, something. the fake would die and you would be born anew from the earth, weak and tired but alive, most importantly.

anemo brushes off dust that begins to settle in your clothes, hydro doing its best to soothe the cracks on your lips. geo rolls you over so you don’t bruise, dendro adjusting its net of vines to keep you stable.

eventually…

[ruiniel]

In Aeternum

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Alucard x Reader

Count: 2.2k

Rating: M

Tags: Pining, Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Dark Romanticism/style, Castlevania References, Reincarnation, Post-Castlevania 2017-2021, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, F!Reader, Herbalist Reader, Magic, References to Speakers, Creatures, Shapeshifting, Second Person POV

AN: Bringing back a story written on the old blog for an ask (I believe it was from @mightyarsh? Let me know if not!). Oneshot for now, TBC if there's interest for more.

Edit: here's Part II

Summary:

Alucard centered story, where his s/o in ~1476 is a herbalist who eventually dies of old age. Fast forward to the 1790s, Alucard stumbles into you: a herbalist and magician, with the same appearance of the one he knew long ago.

“There you are,” you whisper gleefully to yourself, bending down. Your gloved hand reaches to pick the buoyant cluster of white and yellow feverfew at your feet.

The forest sings with life, and sun rays brush bright, dappled fingers over the forest ground. Your satchel is almost full, and you’re pleased to see you’ve crossed most needed supplies off your list for the day. Dusk will soon be upon you, and while you’re more than capable of protecting yourself against any manner of disturbances, the wisest approach would be to head back sooner than later. Carefully, you wrap your quarry in a rough strip of paper and tuck it inside your bag with other scented packages. You rub at your nose with fingers smelling of yarrow, valerian and meadowsweet, considering being done for the day. Looking at your compass, you aim to follow North, towards the town where you run your trade and livelihood.

You take a few steps, thoughts on the newest concoction recipes you’ve been provided by a member of your guild.

At first, you don’t mind the eerie shift in the air. A smell, a reek rises and engulfs you, and though you sense no movement, the tendrils of impending threat weave around your ankles. You stop short.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end; your heartbeat quickens. You know this instinctual warning, you’ve felt it before.

You’re being watched.

Eyes narrowing, you wait, then take a step forward. A stir deep in the tall, dark undergrowth has you lifting your left hand, your stance gone rigid, fingertips sizzling with a rush of hot, elemental energy.

You falter as the creature reveals itself, emerging from of the shadows descended over the wood like moving shrouds; you can’t deny the beast’s unreal beauty as your gaze skims over the white, shining hide, to the golden eyes catching the last drops of sunlight spearing through the trees, watching you with an interest bordering on human.

No, you realize, swallowing hard; its eyes are human, but for all your knowledge in the arcane arts, you can’t for the life of you place its kind. You’re all too familiar with the unmistakable scent of foreign magic, and now it crackles around the dire wolf like rising thunder.

A thought, a forgotten piece of knowledge crosses your mind. Shapeshifter.

If it weren’t for your less than favorable situation, you’d be hopelessly entranced by the rare apparition.

The creature remains still, observing you with curiosity while you place your right foot behind you and drop your satchel. Your fingers form the conjuration symbol of fire.

“I don’t know what you are or why you’re here, but I warn you, one wrong move and I will not hesitate to burn you to a crisp!”

Your voice shakes beneath your bravado, but you don’t get to finish your shaking threat. Before you can muster even a wisp of a firebolt the wolf bounds in a great leap, and in primeval fright you trip over your own legs, falling to the floor amid wilted leaves and dirt. Your unremarkable life flashes before your eyes and only late you notice you’re still breathing, still in your body; still breathing, not dead.

You swivel around, rising to your knees.

Your eyes widen; you balk at the ghastly sight and scramble backwards on your arms and legs, watching the wolf ripping out the throat of another apparition reminiscent of rotting corpses. Guts splatter the trunks of trees, skin tears and bones splinter. The pestilence of ancient necromancy fills your nostrils; your head is spinning, and through your daze and the vicious, threat-induced pounding in your head, you barely see two booted feet instead of a four-legged stance. Closer they come, as your panting breath hitches in your throat.

You lift your gaze, heart struggling between your ribs. Ahead, a widening pool of murky green blood drools beneath the carcass of his kill.

“You should... watch yourself better out here,” come the soft words, and as your shocked eyes move over him, you see broad shoulders, a well-knit frame garbed in black, and looking into his face, you’re struck by a deep, wrenching familiarity.

His unblemished features possess that same stillness, but also honesty and reluctant kindness; and something else. Indefinable, like grasping at a half-forgotten dream at the strike of dawn.

You can’t speak, and mutely stare as he kneels before you. The first impulse is to back away, but through the remnants of your panic you squint at him, and recognition flares. “You!”

You’ve seen him before. You remember now. You… you know him. He’s been a recent, frequent customer in your apothecary shop, coming by regularly to purchase herbs and powders used for an array of purposes. He never skimped on payment, even for the most expensive of wares.

Those otherworldly traits you remember: in truth, how could you forget. His presence is always the hallmark of the familiar, though in what way, you cannot say.

“You…” you repeat dumbly, staring at his proffered gloved hand.

You hesitate before reaching, allowing long fingers to wrap around yours as he helps you to your feet. The grip sends a rush up your spine and warmth down your body, and you marvel at how fast you turned from paralyzing fright to cursed reactions of a completely different kind.

“I never knew you were a shapeshifter, Mr. Țepeș,” you croak, deeply embarrassed by the uncanny rebellion within. You release his hand, perhaps slower than would be deemed appropriate.

“And you never mentioned you were a magician.” He smiles as you dust off the leaves and dirt from your clothes. “But then, these are not things commonly shared among acquaintances in this day and age, are they?”

Despite the near brush with a gruesome death and his unexpected, though fortuitous, presence, you still find a shred of mirth within you. A wry smile curls your lips. “No, I suppose it is not. Though we’ve come a long way from deeming magic devil’s work, and burning witches at the stake.”

His brows furrow at that, and something twitches in his jaw. You wonder if your words had somehow upset him, though in what way, you haven’t the slightest idea.

What was he doing here?

Whatever shadow crossed his expression is gone, however, and he shakes his head. “Indeed, we have. Still, I think you agree caution is key. And please, just ‘Adrian’,” he follows, as gallant as you remember him, as if there’s not a dead abomination he’d disemboweled lying only a short distance away.

“Very well, Adrian,” you find your voice. The word is easy on your tongue, like a fresh, blooming flower. Here you are, alone and at his mercy, for you have no inkling of his true power, but your fear sluices away with his closeness. You wish you knew the reason why. “I won’t tell anyone, if you won’t,” you add, astonished at the sudden shift in mood.

“You’re a long way from home,” he ignores your light remark, watching you strangely, a near wistful gleam in burnished eyes.

“Yes, well, I was out gathering supplies, and I’ve encountered no trouble thus far, but,” you pause, an eyebrow raised as suspicion rears its head. “...you were following me?”

He looks away. “I was hunting it,” he gestures behind him. “Stray creatures of the nether still lurk in the whereabouts of my home, and I’ve encountered too many bodies around abandoned pathways and ditches to allow the prowling to continue.”

You’ve heard of this. You know of at least two families who had recently lost someone; people disappearing without a trace, none ever returned.

Misery for their plight fills you, but now your curiosity has peaked at his words, and there brims a need to know more. “You mention your home… you live close by, then?” Throughout your sparse dealings, he always kept things professional, and despite having met countless times before, you obviously know close to nothing about him.

Adrian hesitates beneath your searching stare, biting his lip. “For now.”

You’re left to wonder at the meaning of his words, your gaze straying behind him. “Oh, how horrid of me! You saved my life. Thank you,” you bow your head, your gratitude genuine.

Adrian looks up to the skies. He smiles. “Darkness falls,” he says. “My deed will prove useless if you end at the hands of brigands or whatever other things haunt this part of the wood.” Unsettling amber eyes are on you again, and something warm and sweet settles in your belly. Now, of all times.

“I…” you choke, “I better get moving then,” you avert your gaze, bending down to retrieve your abandoned satchel.

“I could escort you to the edge of the forest, if you wish.”

The words take you by surprise. Your eyes cut to his again, and in the half-light, their gold is deeper, brighter. Wolf-like, but without the trace of a threat.

“... two wards are better than one, that sort of thing,” he smiles thinly, almost shyly, his gaze intent on your face.

“... that would…” do you want him to? After all, he is little more than a stranger to you, but then again, you are not exactly powerless either, were he to try anything. The thought shames you for some unknown reason, and deep inside, there comes the truth: shapeshifting powers aside, you want him close, you want to know him beyond the placid stares and the memory of those fleeting, close-lipped smiles; beyond the all too brief encounters. Something rooted deep pushes past all sensible misgivings.

You shoulder your satchel, meeting his stare. You sense no danger coming from him, none. Instead, a pang of sadness coils around you, leaving you breathless in your confused stupor.

Your heart beats so fast it might break your sternum, but in his shuttered expression you find nothing. A cool wind shivers through the branches, lifting his pale hair, sending strands astray as he silently awaits your decision.

You nod slowly with a sigh. “... that would be very kind of you.”

You walk in comfortable silence, exchanging questions of mundane import here and there, then falling to silence again. If there’s still a waver to your step, or a hitch to your breath since you nearly lost your life today, your travel companion makes no mention of it.

You tread through dust and leaf until you reach the forest’s edge, and before you lies a vale, and a town tucked within it. You glance over to see your new acquaintance walking in a smooth, determined glide, looking left and right.

When your eyes meet, the question forms immediately, more so since you’ll use any excuse to explain the staring. What has actually happened to you? More annoyed at yourself than expected, you ask, “I haven’t seen you around here often. Before, that is,” you nibble on your lip as his gaze flicks away from you in the fallen twilight.

“I could say the same about you,” he muses, “I’ve always lived close by, actually. But I’ve been… absent these past few years, let’s say.”

Odd. And yet. “Oh, I see. I had settled here after leaving my caravan and parents to find my luck in the world. They knew I needed to channel the talents they’d noticed growing and affecting my life more and more with each passing day. For all the dangers I’ve met, great or small, I’d found some use for my skill in herbalism, found odd jobs until I scraped enough which, along with the help my parents offered when I left, allowed me to rent a place of my own.” You look swiftly his way. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry,” but the look in his eyes cuts through your cresting apology.

“No,” Adrian shakes his head, “It is no bother,” he says, an odd quality to his voice. “No bother at all.” 

It’s a long walk to your cottage at the edge of town, through the same muddy, unpaved road you’ve trod day after day, month after month, year after year. You’ve been alone for so long it’s become a way of life, and you mull over that thought, making your way to the worn, crumbled building of your little shop.

Pausing before the door, you turn around to face your unlooked-for savior. “Well, then.” You smile, catching the peculiar stares of one or two neighbors. Irritation flares—of course, none would even think of minding their own business.

“Well, then.” 

The niggling prickle of something in your mind remains, but you know better than to linger with a stranger in the evening outside your home. The town is not so large as to be impervious to wagging tongues, and that is nothing you want to be a part of.

“Thank you, again,” you offer, not knowing what else to say, for he is so still again, staring through you as though seeking something. 

“Until next time,” is all he says.

“... Under better circumstances. I hope,” you try a jest, turning to unlock the wooden door to your cottage.

“So do I.”

The wind has become stronger. You turn around, wanting to add something that disperses from your mind as you find yourself alone, the night and a rising moon your only witnesses.

MASTERLIST: CASTLEVANIA SERIES x READER

More of my work is on AO3

BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)

Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated

[healix17]

Saw your announcement and willing to take the risk.

MegOP but Megatron is a Femme, OP stays the same. That's it, cuz for the love of me I cannot find any Femme!Megs fanfic out there. Like everyone is the same (or not) just that Megs is a femme.

I'm so, so sorry for the late reply. Like who knew collage was so hard? But here's you fic and tell me if you had any specific thoughts or scenes and don't be shy.

P.S. I've been reading too much Twilight.

P.P. S I changed her name to Megantron

Edges Of War

Humorous Rivalry Moments

The battlefield was shrouded in smoke, the acrid scent of energon mingling with the distant roars of engines and the crackling of blaster fire.

In the midst of the chaos, Optimus stood his ground, gaze fixed on the silver and crimson figure stalking toward him with deliberate grace.

"Megantron," he called out, voice low but carrying over the din of battle.

She paused, helm tilting as she regarded him, crimson optics blazing with amusement. "Prime," she purred, the name rolling off her tongue like a caress—a stark contrast to the sneer curling her red lips. "I see you’ve finally decided to show up."

He shifted his stance, raising his blade in a defensive posture. “I could say the same. Though, I must admit, I’m curious. Did you arrive late because you had trouble fitting through the door again?”

Her optics narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing her faceplates before she chuckled—a low, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down his spinal struts. “So you do have a sense of humor. I was beginning to worry.”

“Merely making an observation.” He allowed himself the smallest smirk, the edge of his mouthplate twitching up as he met her gaze evenly. “After all, it’s not every day I see a Decepticon leader struggle with—what was it—‘her dreadfully inconvenient proportions’?”

Megantron’s optics flared, and she took a step closer, the air around her thrumming with restrained power. “You dare mock me?”

“I’d call it… friendly banter.” The smirk widened just a fraction, and he saw her optics flicker, a subtle shift that only someone who knew her well would notice.

It was a dangerous game, taunting her like this, but something inside him—some spark of long-buried defiance—wanted to see how far he could push.

And then she laughed—softly, almost under her breath, before shaking her helm. “Oh, Prime,” she murmured, voice dipping into something almost intimate. “You’re lucky I find you… amusing.”

The words should have been a threat, but there was something else there, hidden beneath the layers of animosity. Something that made his spark stutter, just for a moment.

But before he could reply, she lunged, blades flashing as she brought them down toward him with a snarl. He blocked the strike, their frames inches apart, and he could feel her energy field crackling against his own, hot and electric.

“Shall we?” she whispered, optics blazing.

And with that, they were back in motion—dancing through the chaos, trading blows and taunts with a familiarity that bordered on unsettling.

Casual Meeting

The truce was uneasy at best.

A fragile, brittle thing held together by mutual necessity and the unspoken agreement that neither faction could afford to lose more soldiers to this endless war.

And so, for the first time in vorns, Optimus Prime found himself in the heart of neutral territory, standing alone in the echoing, empty corridors of a long-abandoned Cybertronian outpost.

The space was vast and hollow, the only sounds the soft hum of energon lines beneath his plating and the faint creak of metal settling into silence.

He was early, as always.

He wasn’t surprised when she arrived with a soft click of heels against metal, her presence a sudden, tangible weight in the stillness.

Megantron stepped into view, optics gleaming crimson in the dim light, her frame sleek and deadly even without the trappings of battle armor.

“Prime,” she greeted coolly, her voice a low, velvety murmur that sent a ripple through his systems. “So punctual. I’d almost think you were eager to see me.”

“I take our negotiations seriously,” he replied, tone carefully neutral as he turned to face her fully. “It’s a matter of respect.”

“Respect,” she echoed, the word dripping with a sarcasm that made his sensors twitch. “Is that what this is?” She moved closer, her optics sweeping over him with a calculating gaze, as though searching for something. “Funny. I would have thought it was stubbornness.”

He straightened, meeting her gaze evenly. “If I’m stubborn, then so are you.”

“Touché,” she murmured, a smirk playing at the corner of her lipplates. “But then, we’ve always been alike in that regard, haven’t we?”

The words were a knife to his spark, a reminder of the history that lay between them—of battles fought and words exchanged, of betrayals that still lingered like ghosts in the space between them.

But he refused to look away, refused to let her see the way her presence unsettled him.

“We are not alike, Megantron.”

“Mm.” She tilted her helm, her optics dark and searching. “No, I suppose we aren’t. You’re far too sentimental.”

The jab was half-hearted, almost gentle, and it threw him off balance. Before he could respond, she stepped closer, her field brushing against his—a subtle, fleeting contact that made his plating buzz.

“But perhaps,” she murmured, voice softening, “that’s not such a bad thing.”

He stared at her, caught off-guard by the sudden shift in her tone, by the way her optics seemed… sad, almost.

And then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment was gone. She straightened, stepping back with a small, self-satisfied smile.

“Shall we get started?” she asked lightly, as though they hadn’t just shared something almost—almost—intimate.

“Yes,” he managed, voice steadier than he felt. “Let’s.”

Shy Romantic Tension

It was raining on the Nemesis, the steady patter of water against the hull a soft, almost soothing backdrop to the tension thrumming between them.

Optimus stood alone in the darkened control room, the faint hum of machinery the only sound besides the rain.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come—why he’d agreed to her request for a private meeting. But when Megantron called, he answered. Always.

“Optimus,” she murmured softly, stepping into the room like a shadow, her frame lithe and graceful as she moved to stand beside him. “You came.”

“You requested a parley,” he replied, voice low, careful. “I’m here to listen.”

“And nothing more?” Her optics were half-lidded, her tone light and playful, but there was something beneath it—something raw and aching that he couldn’t quite place.

“Megantron,” he began, and she flinched—an almost imperceptible motion, but he caught it.

“Stop,” she whispered, stepping closer, too close. “Just… stop.”

And before he could react, she reached up, the sharp lines of her clawed digits brushing lightly against his faceplate, a touch so gentle it made his spark clench.

“Why do you always have to be so…” She trailed off, optics shuttering closed as if the sight of him was too much to bear. “So good?”

“Because I have to be,” he murmured, helpless, his own hand lifting—hovering inches from her frame, afraid to touch but unable to pull away. “Because someone has to be.”

Her optics snapped open, blazing crimson as she glared at him. “And what about what I need?”

The words hung between them, a plea wrapped in anger, and he felt something inside him twist and fracture.

But before he could reply, before he could think of anything to say, she turned away, shoulders tense, frame trembling with the force of her own suppressed emotions.

“Forget it,” she spat, voice hard again. “Forget I said anything.”

And then she was gone, the rain and the dark swallowing her whole, leaving him alone with the sound of his own shattering spark.

Again I'm so sorry but if you need any more ideas or want a change of genera, then inform me.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 27, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 28, 2024

Tonight was the first debate between President Joe Biden and presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump, and by far the most striking thing about the debate was the overwhelming focus among pundits immediately afterward about Biden’s appearance and soft, hoarse voice as he rattled off statistics and events. Virtually unmentioned was the fact that Trump lied and rambled incoherently, ignored questions to say whatever he wanted; refused to acknowledge the events of January 6, 2021; and refused to commit to accepting the result of the 2024 presidential election, finally saying he would accept it only if it met his standards for fairness. 

Immediately after the debate, there were calls for Biden to drop out of the race, but aside from the fact that the only time a presidential candidate has ever done that—in 1968—it threw the race into utter confusion and the president’s party lost, Biden needed to demonstrate that his mental capacity is strong in order to push back on the Republicans’ insistence that he is incapable of being president. That, he did, thoroughly. Biden began with a weak start but hit his stride as the evening wore on. Indeed, he covered his bases too thoroughly, listing the many accomplishments of his administration in such a hurry that he was sometimes hard to understand. 

In contrast, Trump came out strong but faded and became less coherent over time. His entire performance was either lies or rambling non-sequiturs. He lied so incessantly throughout the evening that it took CNN fact-checker Daniel Dale almost three minutes, speaking quickly, to get through the list. 

Trump said that some Democratic states allow people to execute babies after they’re born and that every legal scholar wanted Roe v. Wade overturned—both fantastical lies. He said that the deficit is at its highest level ever and that the U.S. trade deficit is at its highest ever: both of those things happened during his administration. He lied that there were no terrorist attacks during his presidency; there were many. He said that Biden wants to quadruple people’s taxes—this is “pure fiction,” according to Dale—and lied that his tax cuts paid for themselves; they have, in fact, added trillions of dollars to the national debt. 

Dale went on: Trump lied that the U.S. has provided more aid to Ukraine than Europe has when it’s the other way around, and he was off by close to $100 billion when he named the amount the U.S. has provided to Ukraine. He was off by millions when he talked about how many migrants have crossed the border under Biden, and falsely claimed that some of Biden’s policies—like funding historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and reducing the price of insulin to $35 a month—were his own accomplishments.

There is no point in going on, because virtually everything he said was a lie. As Jake Lahut of the Daily Beast recorded, he also was all over the map. “On January 6,” Trump said, “we had a great border.” To explain how he would combat opioid addiction, he veered off into talking points about immigration and said his administration “bought the best dog.” He boasted about acing a cognitive test and that he had just recently won two golf club tournaments without mentioning that they were at his own golf courses. “To do that, you have to be quite smart and you have to be able to hit the ball a long way,” he said. “I can do it.” 

As Lahut recorded, Trump said this: “Clean water and air. We had it. We had the H2O best numbers ever, and we were using all forms of energy during my 4 years. Best environmental numbers ever, they gave me the statistic [sic.] before I walked on stage actually.”

Trump also directly accused Biden of his own failings and claimed Biden’s own strengths, saying, for example, that Biden, who has enacted the most sweeping legislation of any president since at least Lyndon Johnson, couldn’t get anything done while he, who accomplished only tax cuts, was more effective. He responded to the calling out of his own criminal convictions by saying that Biden “could be a convicted felon,” and falsely stating: “This man is a criminal.” And, repeatedly, Trump called America a “failing nation” and described it as a hellscape.

It went on and on, and that was the point. This was not a debate. It was Trump using a technique that actually has a formal name, the Gish gallop, although I suspect he comes by it naturally. It’s a rhetorical technique in which someone throws out a fast string of lies, non-sequiturs, and specious arguments, so many that it is impossible to fact-check or rebut them in the amount of time it took to say them. Trying to figure out how to respond makes the opponent look confused, because they don’t know where to start grappling with the flood that has just hit them.

It is a form of gaslighting, and it is especially effective on someone with a stutter, as Biden has. It is similar to what Trump did to Biden during a debate in 2020. In that case, though, the lack of muting on the mics left Biden simply saying: “Will you shut up, man?” a comment that resonated with the audience. Giving Biden the enforced space to answer by killing the mic of the person not speaking tonight actually made the technique more effective.

There are ways to combat the Gish gallop—by calling it out for what it is, among other ways—but Biden retreated to trying to give the three pieces of evidence that established his own credentials on the point at hand. His command of those points was notable, but the difference between how he sounded at the debate and how he sounded on stage at a rally in Raleigh, North Carolina, just an hour afterward suggested that the technique worked on him. 

That’s not ideal, but as Monique Pressley put it, “The proof of Biden’s ability to run the country is the fact that he is running it. Successfully. Not a debate performance against a pathological lying sociopath.” 

A much bigger deal is what it says that the television media and pundits so completely bought into Trump’s performance. They appear to have accepted Trump’s framing of the event—that he is dominant—so fully that the fact Trump unleashed a flood of lies and non-sequiturs simply didn’t register. And, since the format established that the CNN journalists running the debate did not challenge anything either candidate said, and Dale’s fact-checking spot came long after the debate ended, the takeaway of the event was a focus on Biden’s age rather than on Trump’s inability to tell the truth or form a coherent thought. 

At the end of the evening, pundits were calling not for Trump—a man liable for sexual assault and business fraud, convicted of 34 felonies, under three other indictments, who lied pathologically—to step down, but for Biden to step down…because he looked and sounded old. At 81, Biden is indeed old, but that does not distinguish him much from Trump, who is 78 and whose inability to answer a question should raise concerns about his mental acuity. 

About the effect of tonight’s events, former Republican operative Stuart Stevens warned: “Don’t day trade politics. It’s a sucker’s game. A guy from Queens out on bail bragged about overturning Roe v. Wade, said in public he didn’t have sex with a porn star, defended tax cuts for billionaires, defended Jan. 6th. and called America the worst country in the world. That guy isn’t going to win this race.”

Trump will clearly have pleased his base tonight, but Stevens is right to urge people to take a longer view. It’s not clear whether Trump or Biden picked up or lost votes; different polls gave the win to each, and it’s far too early to know how that will shake out over time. 

Of far more lasting importance than this one night is the clear evidence that stage performance has trumped substance in political coverage in our era. Nine years after Trump launched his first campaign, the media continues to let him call the shots. 

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[nsewell]

tw: brief discussion of religion

North America, 1935. They’ve done a twenty-four kilometer dead sprint circumference of the farmland that borders a desolate inkspot on Nat’s map of the Texas Panhandle, and it’s all rows of cultivated fields and nothing, nothing, nothing. At a copse of cedar elms there’d been a cage lodged into a flaky patch of mud, but that was all that remained of the Trapper caravan that had passed through this area. They’d since moved on, taking their captives with them, and from the tarnishing metal, it seems they’d done so a while ago. Somewhere vaguely westward is all they can gauge.

Ava kicks the cage in frustration, hard enough to crack a bone that mends before the pain can topple her, and then says with mustered control, “We need to be quicker. We need to get back on the trail.”

“We need to rest,” Nat returns patiently and it only takes that for Ava to concede, exhausted with sun and hunger and loathe to deny her. 

They slouch in the weeds and the sun burnished grass together and sip from their canteens of blood, replenishing energy expelled in the chase. Nat’s half ration reserve beads down her chin as she drinks with always just a tinge of desperation, and tells Ava about a drought to the north. She talks like this sometimes, just to talk. Relays to Ava current affairs that she’s read in a paper, and does not expect her to answer. 

The sky is a yawning chasm above, the heat a brutalizing line on their necks. They’ve kicked up enough muck and dust to coat their bodies entirely, and warrant a thorough washing before reconvening at the inn with the other half of their team for the next leg of their journey. They end up tracing their steps back to a lake that they’d passed, and when they get there Nat says, “Oh,” with a wary eye on the wide waterline and her arms tucked against her sides and Ava understands. As if in a desire to be clean and cool she had forgotten the manner to achieve it. 

“I miss the Turkish bathhouses,” Nat sighs. “We’ve traded mint leaves for river reeds.” Ava thinks it a rather meager attempt to cover her trepidation when she can see the way the curve of her wrists are shaking against the fabric of her blouse. Instead, reaches over to grip her shoulder in a reassuring squeeze and lending of strength. 

“You philistine. Come to the shore, and I’ll help you.” 

Ava wades calf deep to fill her empty canteen with water and returns to Nat who is watching her from the pebbled bank, all willowy grace like a river nymph, or else a specter at the water’s edge. Who will go no further. She directs Nat to kneel low enough so she can douse her face clean, and the younger vampire emits a soft chuckle when Ava presses her thumb into the divot of tender skin behind her ear and hold her gaze to the sky.

 “What’s so funny?” Ava asks.

“Just a thought I had. This feels baptismal.” Nat crosses her arms across her chest in an affected, reverent gesture.

Ava lifts a brow. “Were you baptized?” It means nothing to her and she isn't sure why she has a notion to ask. In the swathe of wide topics that have carried them debating through the centuries, religion has never come up.

“Yes, of course. I was born into a self respecting Anglican family of the gentry. Or half of one at least,” Nat recalls, and her accent slips a touch to the cadence of palatial drawing rooms and garden soirees. The one she'd had when they'd first met. “My mother and step-father didn’t want to illegitimize me further, for all the good it did my soul.” 

Ava takes a half-step back and carefully watches Nat's face. “You don’t believe that.” They’ve dealt with hauntings, yes. Banshees, ghouls and the like. Things that have slipped through the perilously thin cracks of the Echo World. Never something that was an inclination of the human soul, evidence of a life beyond this one. “After all you’ve learned and seen.” 

“In the soul? I’m not sure. I’ve thought a lot about it. Sometimes. Aren’t we as vampires spirits by definition? Left behind imprints of a human that once walked the Earth. If we die do we leave a trace, or has the trace already been left?”  

“If you’re going to philosophize you can do this yourself,” Ava tells her wholly fond.

A thread of warm laughter always underscores any teasing that Nat does and this one melts into the dry breath of wind sweeping the north Texas plains. Genial and tender. “There's a very old adage I'm sure you're familiar with, even with all your reclusion, my friend-you started it.”

[darkmaga-returns]

Donald Trump wants to ensure that America’s neighbors to the north and south help him fight the migrant crisis, announcing that he will punish both Canada and Mexico with a 25% tariff on goods until migrants stop crossing into America from their lands.

Justin Trudeau reportedly called Donald Trump within two hours of his public remarks. “Canada is essential to US domestic energy supply and last year 60 percent of US crude oil imports originated in Canada,” read the statement issued by Trudeau, finance minister Chrystia Freeland and public safety minister Dominic LeBlanc. This certainly would hurt any attempt at a Keystone XL Pipeline revival. The long-negotiated USMC deal would be moot. The problem with tariffs here that Trump does not understand is that they will hurt the people on BOTH sides. Mexico has not responded to Trump’s statements at the time of this writing, but the president stated in an interview that tariffs would be met with retaliatory tariffs, further stifling free trade.

Trump also noted his dissatisfaction with China’s handling of the fentanyl crisis. Until China implements the death penalty to fentanyl producers, the entire nation will face a 10% tariff on goods. “’I have had many talks with China about the massive amounts of drugs, in particular Fentanyl, being sent into the United States – But to no avail,’ Trump wrote. ‘Representatives of China told me that they would institute their maximum penalty, that of death, for any drug dealers caught doing this but, unfortunately, they never followed through, and drugs are pouring into our Country, mostly through Mexico, at levels never seen before,” Trump stated.

Skilled at diplomatic relations, China agreed with Trump and said that they are working to meet his demands. “The Chinese side has notified the US side of the progress made in US-related law enforcement operations against narcotics,’ said Liu Pengyu, a spokesman for the Chinese embassy in DC, later adding that “China believes that China-US economic and trade cooperation is mutually beneficial.”

Trump would unintentionally punish the American people through these tariffs as the costs are always passed on to the consumer. We cannot threaten top trading partners by punishing them with fines as the private sector and personal consumer will be punished, not the governments. Positive reinforcement has worked for Italy, for example, as Meloni has negotiated favorable deals with neighboring nations to entice them to curb the flow of migrants. Tariffs are certainly NOT the way to deal with this crisis.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Capitalist elites are driving the rationalities of overproduction while overconsuming and disproportionately intensifying extraction, commodification and usage of various resources, thereby threatening planetary systems and justice. Through media, advertising, influencer culture and control over means of production, they exacerbate not only inequities but perpetuate destructive growth models and logics of overproduction, overconsumption, disposal/wastage and disregard that crosses boundaries and borders. These global elites participate in accumulation by dispossession with disproportionate capitalist benefits from resource control and the promotion of neocolonialist policies via outsized policy influence. As a result, they contribute directly to ecological harms, biodiversity crises, water pollution, air pollution and climate breakdown that they themselves rarely experience firsthand, but which undermine wellbeing and safety of the majority, particularly BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and people of colour) communities everywhere. More insidiously still, socioecologically destructive and unfettered economic growth models and institutional policies shape the responses to the problems they create, influencing what desirable outcomes and solutions should be and what individuals should aspire to behave like to be modern. Instead of tackling the root causes of climate breakdown, the implication is that ideal global subjects should participate in particular notions of economic progress and consumption, even across the Majority World. As a result, the imperial modes of living of the globally-rich are promoted as global aspirations for all. The capitalist model of hyperconsumption, extractivism, commodification and a discard culture of increasing waste production are presented as signifiers of progress, while discounting their environmental consequences. This is affluence, but unsustainable affluence. The externalities are often overlooked, borne by the global poor who are simultaneously blamed for their poverty while being told they should support unsustainable capitalist models of progress. Rarely, by contrast, does the fact that the ever-expanding global billionaire class have carbon footprints thousands of times larger than average citizens feature in the models designed to curb the impacts of their behaviour. Yet this inequality is fundamental to climate breakdown. Ecological and planetary boundaries are being transgressed predominantly by capitalist elites in the Global North (or the high-energy industrialised economies), causing disproportionate social and ecological harms to large numbers of marginalised communities elsewhere. Extraction and discard culture are embedded in the economic models and processes which govern not just natural resources exploitation and commodification, but also the destruction of human lives and potentials, resulting in a disregard for the care economy and resilience of ecosystems. It also often involves lip service to basic welfare of billions caught in exploitative and neocolonial labour relations with global capital and extractive resource-based trade that causes irreversible harms, usually locally more profoundly.

[gamdaughter]

giggile,s,, hi soffaaa,,,))

[][]

"Bye Mama, bye mom, bye Auntie!" Chike exclaimed, waving bye to his mom's and auntie, a bag on his shoulder. Ever since his Auntie Josefina (who was originally his real mom???) told him he had a half-sister (how does she know this??) somewhere in Sumeru. Though she had not a lot of exact details, Auntie Josefina gave him the letters that she and a friend mailed to each other. She also gave him some information about her friend- and hopefully it'll help him on his journey to find the lady. "Bye Panda! Bye Coco!" Chike kneeled down to pet Panda, a tuxedo kitten he had gotten a few months prior and then patting Coco's head. Coco was a small Qucusaur, a baby to be exact. "I'm going to miss you guys, keep Panda safe, okay Coco?" He chuckled softly as the Qucusaur gave a small roar.

He got up from his kneeled position and left, as they all had been surrounding the entrance of Natlan to Sumeru's desert. "Love you guys!! See you guys soon!! I promise to visit!!" Chike shouted as he jogged, watching their figures becoming pixels in the distance. It was going to be a long journey.. For exactly two days and sixteen hours, he had been away from Natlan and in the desert. Chike was always been curious of the desert since it didn't look like the books said it did.

"Huff.. huff.." Chike pressed his hands on his knees as he crouched, panting from the run he just had to do from escaping some eremites. He didn't really want to fight to drain his energy more. A sigh left his lips, soon getting up from his crouched position to finally enter the rainforest. "Big trees.." He muttered, looking down at a map of a city his auntie gave him. "I guess I'm far from that place..?" He mumbled to himself, not expecting to encounter anyone, so he just started walking towards (what he'd like to assume) the way to Sumeru's city. "I can't believe Sumeru, Fontaine, Liyue and Natlan is so close to eachother! It's so cool!" Chike had started speaking to himself, since the silence was deafening to him.

[][]

I hope you enjoy,,, :33

It was a rare occasion that Geegee ever dared to step foot outside of the rainforest. Meaning crossing the border to Liyue, or stepping into the desert. Yeah, no. Geegee wouldn’t survive a moment in the desert. Nonetheless, she had been all over the forest, really, though she spent most of her time by the City. It was quite a wonder that the girl had even decided to even TRY to step foot towards the desert this time. She didn’t even dare go close to the small trading village of sorts that was centered on the border of the desert and rainforest. Caravan Ribat, is what it’s called. Or, well, that’s what the Kalpalata Lotuses(No, not the Ishtar, the actual flowers.) told her. 

Sitting on the branch of a tree, Geegee watched as sand blew in the distance while gazing at the giant bark(was it bark?) wall. Also, Caravan Ribat was nearby as well, so. Geegee watched as people went in and out of Caravan Ribat as well, though, AWAY from Caravan Ribat, was the figure of a man stopping after running from around the Wall of Samiel. The girl watched quizzically as he stopped to crouch slightly, his hands on his knees. Man, what is that guy doing?! Geegee watched as he then straightened his posture, propping his hands on his hips as he gazed at the rainforest, seeming as if to speak.. To himself. Er.. Is that normal..? Don’t humans usually just.. Talk in their heads when there’s nobody to hear them..? Even Ishtar do that!

Leaning from her post atop the tree branch, Geegee watched as the man who was perhaps about thirty meters away’s expression melted into that of pride. Well, reasonable enough, if her assumption was correct. Said assumption being that he had just crossed the vast desert. She’d be pretty proud of herself too if she could make it all the way across, really. Squinting at the man to try and see better, the girl let go of the branch, moving her hands as to put them above her eyebrows to peer at him.

Ah. 

That wasn’t really a good decision of her to make.

With a loud cry, the girl tumbled off her branch, falling face first into the dirt below. It was a lot drier than dirt deeper in the rainforest, a small cloud of dusty dirt forming from the impact of her fall. Yikes.

[misfitwashere]

June 27, 2024 

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 28

Tonight was the first debate between President Joe Biden and presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump, and by far the most striking thing about the debate was the overwhelming focus among pundits immediately afterward about Biden’s appearance and soft, hoarse voice as he rattled off statistics and events. Virtually unmentioned was the fact that Trump lied and rambled incoherently, ignored questions to say whatever he wanted; refused to acknowledge the events of January 6, 2021; and refused to commit to accepting the result of the 2024 presidential election, finally saying he would accept it only if it met his standards for fairness. 

Immediately after the debate, there were calls for Biden to drop out of the race, but aside from the fact that the only time a presidential candidate has ever done that—in 1968—it threw the race into utter confusion and the president’s party lost, Biden needed to demonstrate that his mental capacity is strong in order to push back on the Republicans’ insistence that he is incapable of being president. That, he did, thoroughly. Biden began with a weak start but hit his stride as the evening wore on. Indeed, he covered his bases too thoroughly, listing the many accomplishments of his administration in such a hurry that he was sometimes hard to understand. 

In contrast, Trump came out strong but faded and became less coherent over time. His entire performance was either lies or rambling non-sequiturs. He lied so incessantly throughout the evening that it took CNN fact-checker Daniel Dale almost three minutes, speaking quickly, to get through the list. 

Trump said that some Democratic states allow people to execute babies after they’re born and that every legal scholar wanted Roe v. Wade overturned—both fantastical lies. He said that the deficit is at its highest level ever and that the U.S. trade deficit is at its highest ever: both of those things happened during his administration. He lied that there were no terrorist attacks during his presidency; there were many. He said that Biden wants to quadruple people’s taxes—this is “pure fiction,” according to Dale—and lied that his tax cuts paid for themselves; they have, in fact, added trillions of dollars to the national debt. 

Dale went on: Trump lied that the U.S. has provided more aid to Ukraine than Europe has when it’s the other way around, and he was off by close to $100 billion when he named the amount the U.S. has provided to Ukraine. He was off by millions when he talked about how many migrants have crossed the border under Biden, and falsely claimed that some of Biden’s policies—like funding historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and reducing the price of insulin to $35 a month—were his own accomplishments.

There is no point in going on, because virtually everything he said was a lie. As Jake Lahut of the Daily Beast recorded, he also was all over the map. “On January 6,” Trump said, “we had a great border.” To explain how he would combat opioid addiction, he veered off into talking points about immigration and said his administration “bought the best dog.” He boasted about acing a cognitive test and that he had just recently won two golf club tournaments without mentioning that they were at his own golf courses. “To do that, you have to be quite smart and you have to be able to hit the ball a long way,” he said. “I can do it.” 

As Lahut recorded, Trump said this: “Clean water and air. We had it. We had the H2O best numbers ever, and we were using all forms of energy during my 4 years. Best environmental numbers ever, they gave me the statistic [sic.] before I walked on stage actually.”

Trump also directly accused Biden of his own failings and claimed Biden’s own strengths, saying, for example, that Biden, who has enacted the most sweeping legislation of any president since at least Lyndon Johnson, couldn’t get anything done while he, who accomplished only tax cuts, was more effective. He responded to the calling out of his own criminal convictions by saying that Biden “could be a convicted felon,” and falsely stating: “This man is a criminal.” And, repeatedly, Trump called America a “failing nation” and described it as a hellscape.

It went on and on, and that was the point. This was not a debate. It was Trump using a technique that actually has a formal name, the Gish gallop, although I suspect he comes by it naturally. It’s a rhetorical technique in which someone throws out a fast string of lies, non-sequiturs, and specious arguments, so many that it is impossible to fact-check or rebut them in the amount of time it took to say them. Trying to figure out how to respond makes the opponent look confused, because they don’t know where to start grappling with the flood that has just hit them.

It is a form of gaslighting, and it is especially effective on someone with a stutter, as Biden has. It is similar to what Trump did to Biden during a debate in 2020. In that case, though, the lack of muting on the mics left Biden simply saying: “Will you shut up, man?” a comment that resonated with the audience. Giving Biden the enforced space to answer by killing the mic of the person not speaking tonight actually made the technique more effective.

There are ways to combat the Gish gallop—by calling it out for what it is, among other ways—but Biden retreated to trying to give the three pieces of evidence that established his own credentials on the point at hand. His command of those points was notable, but the difference between how he sounded at the debate and how he sounded on stage at a rally in Raleigh, North Carolina, just an hour afterward suggested that the technique worked on him. 

That’s not ideal, but as Monique Pressley put it, “The proof of Biden’s ability to run the country is the fact that he is running it. Successfully. Not a debate performance against a pathological lying sociopath.” 

A much bigger deal is what it says that the television media and pundits so completely bought into Trump’s performance. They appear to have accepted Trump’s framing of the event—that he is dominant—so fully that the fact Trump unleashed a flood of lies and non-sequiturs simply didn’t register. And, since the format established that the CNN journalists running the debate did not challenge anything either candidate said, and Dale’s fact-checking spot came long after the debate ended, the takeaway of the event was a focus on Biden’s age rather than on Trump’s inability to tell the truth or form a coherent thought. 

At the end of the evening, pundits were calling not for Trump—a man liable for sexual assault and business fraud, convicted of 34 felonies, under three other indictments, who lied pathologically—to step down, but for Biden to step down…because he looked and sounded old. At 81, Biden is indeed old, but that does not distinguish him much from Trump, who is 78 and whose inability to answer a question should raise concerns about his mental acuity. 

About the effect of tonight’s events, former Republican operative Stuart Stevens warned: “Don’t day trade politics. It’s a sucker’s game. A guy from Queens out on bail bragged about overturning Roe v. Wade, said in public he didn’t have sex with a porn star, defended tax cuts for billionaires, defended Jan. 6th. and called America the worst country in the world. That guy isn’t going to win this race.”

Trump will clearly have pleased his base tonight, but Stevens is right to urge people to take a longer view. It’s not clear whether Trump or Biden picked up or lost votes; different polls gave the win to each, and it’s far too early to know how that will shake out over time. 

Of far more lasting importance than this one night is the clear evidence that stage performance has trumped substance in political coverage in our era. Nine years after Trump launched his first campaign, the media continues to let him call the shots. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

[nepalenergyforum]

MCC Awards First Construction Contract: New Butwal Substation to be Completed in 39 Months

NAWALPARASI, May 9: The Millennium Challenge Account Nepal (MCA-Nepal) has inked a pivotal contract with Linxon India Pvt Ltd for the construction of the 400 kV New Butwal Substation in Nawalparasi (Bardaghat Susta West) district, Lumbini Province. The 400 kV Gas Insulated Switchgear (GIS) substation will be constructed within the contract duration of 39 months. The signing ceremony was attended…

[zvaigzdelasas]

[The Standard is Private Kenyan Media]

Kenya remains determined to secure a deal with China for the completion of the Standard Gauge Railway (SGR) to Malaba, the government has maintained.

Kenya’s announcement comes days after high-level discussions between President William Ruto and China President Xi Jinping in Beijing failed to bear such a deal or an extension agreement.

Transport Cabinet Secretary Kipchumba Murkomen, however, says Kenya will maintain its ongoing engagement with Beijing to secure support for the expansion of the SGR, starting from Naivasha [...] with the ultimate goal of reaching Kampala.

He spoke soon after returning from the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) forum held in Beijing recently.

“I thank the Chinese government for always working with us to implement our infrastructural projects, and look forward to closer partnerships on roads, rail, ports and airports through public-private partnerships and government-to-government agreements,” Murkomen said.

“I also appreciate the willingness of the Chinese government to work with us to find the most appropriate framework for extending the SGR from Naivasha to Malaba, and thereafter to Kampala and beyond.”[...]

The Mombasa port serves Uganda, Rwanda, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), South Sudan and Burundi as well as northern Tanzania. Prior to President Ruto’s visit, Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua and Murkomen earlier said Kenya would seek the extension of the SGR to Malaba, on the Uganda border.

The visit would also have seen President Ruto negotiate a $1 billion (Sh157 billion) mega deal and seek concessions from Beijing to restructure Kenya’s debt owed to China.[...]

“It is important to note that BRI investments in Kenya include an expanded and improved road network, the standard-gauge railway (SGR), and air and sea port projects. These projects have transformed connectivity within our country by making greater productivity and efficiency possible,” said Ruto during the BRI forum.

“They have also transformed Kenya’s connectivity regionally, facilitating cross-border trade and regional integration.”

Ruto’s maiden visit to Beijing was keenly watched by diplomatic observers. The visit marked Dr Ruto’s U-turn on his earlier rhetoric against Chinese loans.

During the Beijing forum, Xi lauded his grand BRI plan of building global infrastructure and energy networks connecting Asia with Africa and Europe.

25 Oct 23

[climber-123]

From Heather Cox Richardson:

June 27, 2024 (Thursday)

Tonight was the first debate between President Joe Biden and presumptive Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump, and by far the most striking thing about the debate was the overwhelming focus among pundits immediately afterward about Biden’s appearance and soft, hoarse voice as he rattled off statistics and events. Virtually unmentioned was the fact that Trump lied and rambled incoherently, ignored questions to say whatever he wanted; refused to acknowledge the events of January 6, 2021; and refused to commit to accepting the result of the 2024 presidential election, finally saying he would accept it only if it met his standards for fairness.

Immediately after the debate, there were calls for Biden to drop out of the race, but aside from the fact that the only time a presidential candidate has ever done that—in 1968—it threw the race into utter confusion and the president’s party lost, Biden needed to demonstrate that his mental capacity is strong in order to push back on the Republicans’ insistence that he is incapable of being president. That, he did, thoroughly. Biden began with a weak start but hit his stride as the evening wore on. Indeed, he covered his bases too thoroughly, listing the many accomplishments of his administration in such a hurry that he was sometimes hard to understand.

In contrast, Trump came out strong but faded and became less coherent over time. His entire performance was either lies or rambling non-sequiturs. He lied so incessantly throughout the evening that it took CNN’s fact-checker Daniel Dale almost three minutes, speaking quickly, to get through the list.

Trump said that some Democratic states allow people to execute babies after they’re born and that every legal scholar wanted Roe v. Wade overturned—both fantastical lies. He said that the deficit is at its highest level ever and that the U.S. trade deficit is at its highest ever: both of those things happened during his administration. He lied that there were no terrorist attacks during his presidency; there were many. He said that Biden wants to quadruple people’s taxes—this is “pure fiction,” according to Dale—and lied that his tax cuts paid for themselves; they have, in fact, added trillions of dollars to the national debt.

Dale went on: Trump lied that the U.S. has provided more aid to Ukraine than Europe has when it’s the other way around, and he was off by close to $100 billion when he named the amount the U.S. has provided to Ukraine. He was off by millions when he talked about how many migrants have crossed the border under Biden, and falsely claimed that some of Biden’s policies—like funding historically Black colleges and universities (HBCUs) and reducing the price of insulin to $35 a month—were his own accomplishments.

There is no point in going on, because virtually everything he said was a lie. As Jake Lahut of the Daily Beast recorded, he also was all over the map. “On January 6,” Trump said, “we had a great border.” To explain how he would combat opioid addiction, he veered off into talking points about immigration and said his administration “bought the best dog.” He boasted about acing a cognitive test and that he had just recently won two golf club tournaments without mentioning that they were at his own golf courses. “To do that, you have to be quite smart and you have to be able to hit the ball a long way,” he said. “I can do it.”

As Lahut recorded, Trump said this: “Clean water and air. We had it. We had the H2O best numbers ever, and we were using all forms of energy during my 4 years. Best environmental numbers ever, they gave me the statistic [sic.] before I walked on stage actually.”

Trump also directly accused Biden of his own failings and claimed Biden’s own strengths, saying, for example, that Biden, who has enacted the most sweeping legislation of any president since at least Lyndon Johnson, couldn’t get anything done while he, who accomplished only tax cuts, was more effective. He responded to the calling out of his own criminal convictions by saying that Biden “could be a convicted felon,” and falsely stating: “This man is a criminal.” And, repeatedly, Trump called America a “failing nation” and described it as a hellscape.

It went on and on, and that was the point. This was not a debate. It was Trump using a technique that actually has a formal name, the Gish gallop, although I suspect he comes by it naturally. It’s a rhetorical technique in which someone throws out a fast string of lies, non-sequiturs, and specious arguments, so many that it is impossible to fact-check or rebut them in the amount of time it took to say them. Trying to figure out how to respond makes the opponent look confused, because they don’t know where to start grappling with the flood that has just hit them.

It is a form of gaslighting, and it is especially effective on someone with a stutter, as Biden has. It is similar to what Trump did to Biden during a debate in 2020. In that case, though, the lack of muting on the mics left Biden simply saying: “Will you shut up, man?” a comment that resonated with the audience. Giving Biden the enforced space to answer by killing the mic of the person not speaking tonight actually made the technique more effective.

There are ways to combat the Gish gallop—by calling it out for what it is, among other ways—but Biden retreated to trying to give the three pieces of evidence that established his own credentials on the point at hand. His command of those points was notable, but the difference between how he sounded at the debate and how he sounded on stage at a rally in Raleigh, North Carolina, just an hour afterward suggested that the technique worked on him.

That’s not ideal, but as Monique Pressley put it, “The proof of Biden’s ability to run the country is the fact that he is running it. Successfully. Not a debate performance against a pathological lying sociopath.”

A much bigger deal is what it says that the television media and pundits so completely bought into Trump’s performance. They appear to have accepted Trump’s framing of the event—that he is dominant—so fully that the fact Trump unleashed a flood of lies and non-sequiturs simply didn’t register. And, since the format established that the CNN journalists running the debate did not challenge anything either candidate said, and Dale’s fact-checking spot came long after the debate ended, the takeaway of the event was a focus on Biden’s age rather than on Trump’s inability to tell the truth or form a coherent thought.

At the end of the evening, pundits were calling not for Trump—a man liable for sexual assault and business fraud, convicted of 34 felonies, under three other indictments, who lied pathologically—to step down, but for Biden to step down…because he looked and sounded old. At 81, Biden is indeed old, but that does not distinguish him much from Trump, who is 78 and whose inability to answer a question should raise concerns about his mental acuity.

About the effect of tonight’s events, former Republican operative Stuart Stevens warned: “Don't day trade politics. It's a sucker's game. A guy from Queens out on bail bragged about overturning Roe v. Wade, said in public he didn't have sex with a porn star, defended tax cuts for billionaires, defended Jan. 6th. and called America the worst country in the world. That guy isn't going to win this race.”

Trump will clearly have pleased his base tonight, but Stevens is right to urge people to take a longer view. It’s not clear whether Trump or Biden picked up or lost votes; different polls gave the win to each, and it’s far too early to know how that will shake out over time.

Of far more lasting importance than this one night is the clear evidence that stage performance has trumped substance in political coverage in our era. Nine years after Trump launched his first campaign, the media continues to let him call the shots.

[mariacallous]

On Sept. 19, Azerbaijan launched a large-scale military offensive against the autonomous ethnic Armenian enclave of Nagorno-Karabakh, known in Armenia as Artsakh. Within 24 hours, Azerbaijan secured effective control over Nagorno-Karabakh, and the Artsakh Defense Army was disbanded. These seismic events ended a three-decade frozen conflict, which included large-scale wars from 1988-1994 and in 2020, and resulted in the exodus of almost all ethnic Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh to Armenia.

Azerbaijan’s dramatic takeover in Nagorno-Karabakh has far-reaching geopolitical implications. Turkey views it as a strategic victory but is wary of Armenia’s resistance to its plans to economically integrate Nagorno-Karabakh with Azerbaijan and Turkey. Iran regards Turkey’s win as its loss, as it fears Azerbaijan’s empowerment and opposes Turkey’s transport corridor projects, which could obstruct Iran’s shared border with Armenia.

While Russia was weakened by its refusal to defend its treaty ally Armenia, it maintains substantial capacity to destabilize and project power in the South Caucasus. Azerbaijan’s takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh could also create new opportunities for China’s Belt and Road Initiative. And Europe and the United States face an uneasy dilemma between providing humanitarian aid to Armenia and maintaining energy supplies from Azerbaijan.

Turkey believes that Azerbaijan’s takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh will enable its Zangezur corridor project. The corridor would facilitate trade between Azerbaijan and the Nakhchivan Autonomous Republic, an Azerbaijani exclave located to the southwest of Armenia. This would allow for direct commercial ties between Turkey and Azerbaijan via Nakhchivan and fulfill Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s vision of uniting the Turkic world.

Turkey also supports Azerbaijan’s plan to construct a railway from Horadiz, Azerbaijan, to Kars, Turkey, which would cross through 25 miles of Armenian territory. Due to its infringement on Armenian territory, Armenia and Iran strongly oppose this railway project.

Turkey also sees an opportunity to bolster its energy connectivity with Azerbaijan. On Sept. 25, Erdogan and Azerbaijani President Ilham Aliyev attended a ceremony to launch the construction of a Nakhchivan gas pipeline. This pipeline, which was formally proposed in December 2020 and scheduled for completion in 2024, runs 50 miles between Igdir, Turkey, and the Turkey-Azerbaijan border, and a farther 11 miles into Nakhchivan. The pipeline would allow Azerbaijan to provide natural gas to Nakhchivan, which is currently reliant on Iran for supplies, and aid Erdogan and Aliyev’s ambitions of converting the Zangezur corridor into an energy transit route.

The success of Turkey’s connectivity projects hinges on Armenia’s acquiescence. The November 2020 cease-fire required Armenia to allow for unimpeded trade between Azerbaijan and Nakhchivan. Despite this stipulation, both Armenia and Azerbaijan have disagreed on the necessity and location of border checkpoints. Armenia also fiercely opposes Azerbaijan’s plan to create a buffer zone on its territory, as it would result in no Armenian security officers being stationed within 2.5 kilometers (1.5 miles) of an Azerbaijan-run transit corridor.

To break the impasse, Turkey will likely highlight the economic benefits of Armenian participation in its connectivity projects. An Azerbaijan-Turkey pipeline that passes through Armenian territory would help Armenia divest from Russian natural gas giant Gazprom and increase Armenia’s value as an energy transit hub to Europe.

Despite these benefits and the reduction of Turkish-Armenian tensions since December 2021, domestic pressure could prevent Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan from accepting Erdogan’s proposal.

The potential outcomes of Armenia’s rejection of Turkey’s connectivity projects are unclear. Erdogan recently claimed that Iran was open to allowing the Zangezur corridor to pass through its territory rather than Armenia, but Tehran has historically resisted this idea.

If Iran proves uncooperative, then Azerbaijan’s Aliyev could seek to forcefully construct a land bridge between Nakhchivan and Azerbaijan. An Azerbaijani invasion of southern Armenia’s Syunik province would be the most plausible pathway toward achieving this goal. Armenia’s ambassador to the European Union, Tigran Balayan, warned on Aug. 6 that “We are now under imminent threat of invasion into Armenia.” While Azerbaijan may be well-placed militarily to vanquish Armenia, an invasion of Syunik could trigger Western sanctions on Azerbaijan and derail Erdogan’s South Caucasus reconciliation vision.

Iran treaded cautiously in response to Azerbaijan’s takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh. Iranian officials have engaged regularly with their Armenian and Azerbaijani counterparts. After Aliyev advisor Khalaf Khalafov and Armenian national security advisor Armen Grigoryan visited Tehran last week, Iranian officials called for an Armenian-Azerbaijani normalization and the expulsion of foreign forces from the region. Iranian Foreign Ministry spokesman Nasser Kanani voiced support for Nagorno-Karabakh’s integration with Azerbaijan, while the chief of staff of the Iranian Armed Forces, Mohammad Bagheri, demanded equal rights for the few minorities remaining in Nagorno-Karabakh.

Despite its neutral-to-positive reaction to Nagorno-Karabakh’s integration with Azerbaijan, Iran views the new status quo in the South Caucasus with consternation. The empowerment of Azerbaijan is concerning for Iran, as relations between the two countries have deteriorated sharply since Iranian President Ebrahim Raisi took office in 2021.

Israel supplied Azerbaijan with an estimated nearly 70 percent of its arms between 2016 and 2020, which was strikingly higher than Turkey’s 2.9 percent export share from 2011 to 2020. Iranian officials view this close security partnership with deep suspicion. Provocative moves, such as Iran’s holding of large-scale drills near its border with Azerbaijan in October 2021 and Azerbaijan’s periodic arrests of alleged Iranian spies, have escalated tensions. While Raisi told Khalafov that he wanted improved relations with Baku, and Iranian-Azerbaijani relations did flourish from 2014 and 2016, mistrust between the two countries remains high.

Despite Erdogan’s questionable claims of a shift in Tehran’s position, Iran is steadfastly opposed to the Zangezur corridor as it is currently envisioned. In theory, Iran should welcome the corridor’s new road and railway networks. Enhanced regional connectivity would link Iranian exporters to markets in the South Caucasus and reverse the economic damage caused by Iran’s severed access from Soviet railway networks in 1990. Yet even with these commercial interests, which Erdogan has cited in his appeals to Tehran, Iranian officials view the project with deep suspicion. Iran fears that the Zangezur corridor will block its ability to trade across its shared border with Armenia and recently warned Azerbaijani officials against an invasion of Syunik.

The Strategic Council on Foreign Relations in Tehran, which is headed by former Iranian Foreign Minister Kamal Kharrazi, has expressed fears that the corridor could allow Azerbaijan, Israel, and Turkey to foment instability in northern Iran’s Azeri regions. Iranian hard-liners view these destabilizing plans as part of a broader NATO strategy of encircling Iran, China, and Russia.

While the strategic picture is relatively optimistic for Turkey and potentially problematic for Iran, the implications of Azerbaijan’s takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh for Russia are less clear. Russia’s security guarantees, which date back to a 1997 treaty with Armenia, only apply to Armenia’s internationally recognized territory.

Even though Russia’s passive response to Azerbaijan’s May 2021 incursions into Syunik undermined these security guarantees, the security pact categorically does not extend to Nagorno-Karabakh, which is legally part of Azerbaijan. But Pashinyan, the Armenian prime minister, still denounced Moscow’s inaction. Pashinyan publicly criticized Russia’s unreliability as an ally and highlighted the degradation of Russia’s military capabilities in Ukraine. The relationship has continued to decline: After the deaths of five Russian peacekeepers in an accidental clash with the Azerbaijani Armed Forces, Russia dismantled its observation posts in Nagorno-Karabakh on Oct. 5.

Despite these setbacks, Russia is not a spent force in the South Caucasus. As Russian-Armenian relations soured, its partnership with Azerbaijan has strengthened. Russia’s trade with Azerbaijan increased by 55.3 percent during the first quarter of 2023, compared to the previous year. Under a November 2022 agreement, Gazprom agreed to ship up to 1 billion cubic meters of gas to Azerbaijan’s SOCAR, a state-owned oil company, which fueled speculation that Azerbaijan was repackaging Russian gas and selling it to European markets. Leonid Slutsky, the chairman of the Russian State Duma’s Foreign Affairs Committee,  recently described Azerbaijan and Belarus as Russia’s two most reliable partners in the post-Soviet space.

Russia has also expanded its presence in Georgia. While the ruling Georgian Dream Party is not explicitly pro-Russian, as it has spearheaded Georgia’s European Union candidacy and broadly complies with U.S. secondary sanctions on Russia, it maintains a working relationship with the Kremlin. Russia’s naval presence on Georgia’s Black Sea coast is also set to expand, as it constructs a base in the separatist region of Abkhazia.

While its South Caucasus strategy will likely pivot toward Azerbaijan and Georgia, Russia will play the long game to rebuild its alliance with Armenia. Through information campaigns highlighting Pashinyan’s futile forays toward the West and his passivity regarding the plight of ethnic Armenians in Nagorno-Karabakh, Russia can foment anti-government unrest and boost Kremlin-friendly alternative candidates ahead of Armenia’s 2026 parliamentary elections.

For its part, China has taken an ambiguous stance toward the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. This ambiguity should not be confused with impartiality. Although China has historically exported weapons systems to Armenia, such as 130-km-radius AR1A multiple launch rocket systems, and viewed Pan-Turkism with suspicion due to its fears of Uyghur unrest in Xinjiang, it has strengthened its relationship with Azerbaijan in recent years.

Since 2005, China’s trade with Azerbaijan has increased by a staggering 2,070 percent. This far outstrips the 380 percent increase in Chinese-Armenian trade during the same time horizon. Chinese telecommunications company Huawei has expanded its digital footprint in Azerbaijan, and China has exported weapons systems to the Azerbaijani military, such as Polonez multiple launch rocket systems and Qasirga T-300 missile systems.

Due to Chinese President Xi Jinping’s courtship of Baku, China is well-positioned to benefit from Azerbaijan’s takeover of Nagorno-Karabakh. As the Belt and Road Initiative already has developed a transit route from Georgia to Europe, the Zangezur corridor could give China a second access point from the South Caucasus to European markets. Shortly after the fall 2020 war in Nagorno-Karabakh, Chinese Ambassador to Azerbaijan Guo Min controversially stated that the Zangezur corridor would contribute to China’s “One Belt, One Road” transport project.

Azerbaijan’s aspirations of becoming a trans-Eurasian telecommunications hub also dovetail with China’s so-called Digital Silk Road initiative. The new status quo in the South Caucasus could help Turkey market its “Middle Corridor” project to China. Like Beijing, Erdogan wishes to outflank the proposed India-Middle East-Europe corridor that was announced by multiple nations on Sept. 10 and would pass through the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Israel, and Greece.

Shifting power balances in the South Caucasus present quandaries for Western powers. Tensions between Armenia and Russia create opportunities for closer Western ties with Yerevan. The European Union Mission in Armenia, which was established in February 2023 without Azerbaijan’s acquiescence, and the U.S. joint military exercises with Armenia reflect Pashinyan’s Western pivot.

While France is poised to send military gear to Armenia, many Western officials acknowledge their inability to rein in Azerbaijan’s alleged ethnic cleansing policy in Nagorno-Karabakh. Hungary vetoed a European Union joint statement condemning Azerbaijan’s conduct, which prevented the bloc from pushing back against Baku’s narrative that it wants Armenians to stay in Nagorno-Karabakh.

And Azerbaijan’s 18 percent increase in gas exports to Europe in 2022, which included a 41.2 percent uptick in sales to Italy, as well as its critical role in the recently completed Greece-Bulgaria natural gas pipeline, limit the West’s ability to influence Baku’s conduct. Aside from providing emergency humanitarian assistance to help Armenia’s resettlement of refugees from Nagorno-Karabakh, the United States and EU will likely be bystanders to Aliyev’s next moves against Armenia.

Despite the mood of euphoria in Baku and despondence in Yerevan, the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict’s resolution could benefit faraway powers even more than regional stakeholders. As external powers scramble to capitalize on new transport infrastructure projects and court an empowered Azerbaijan, human rights are likely to be put on the backburner. That is a tragic outcome for the more than 100,000 ethnic Armenians who saw their lives upended by Azerbaijan’s rapid-fire offensive in Nagorno-Karabakh.

[unpluggedfinancial]

The Role of Bitcoin in Global Stability

In a world increasingly defined by financial instability and geopolitical tension, the search for a reliable, stable store of value has never been more urgent. Traditional financial systems, once considered bastions of stability, have shown cracks under the weight of economic crises, excessive money printing, and political uncertainty. Amidst this backdrop, Bitcoin has emerged not only as a revolutionary financial technology but as a potential anchor of stability in an unstable world.

Bitcoin as a Hedge Against Inflation

Inflation is a silent thief that erodes the purchasing power of hard-earned money. In countries where hyperinflation has taken hold, such as Venezuela and Zimbabwe, local currencies have become nearly worthless, driving people to seek refuge in more stable assets. Bitcoin, with its fixed supply of 21 million coins, offers a stark contrast to fiat currencies that can be printed at will. This scarcity makes Bitcoin an effective hedge against inflation, preserving value over time.

The recent surge in Bitcoin adoption in countries experiencing economic turmoil highlights its growing role as a lifeline for those seeking financial security. As governments continue to devalue their currencies through reckless monetary policies, Bitcoin’s inherent deflationary nature becomes increasingly attractive.

Decentralization as a Source of Stability

One of Bitcoin's most powerful features is its decentralization. Unlike traditional financial systems controlled by central banks and governments, Bitcoin operates on a peer-to-peer network, free from centralized control. This decentralization provides a level of security and resilience that is unmatched by any other financial system.

In a world where trust in institutions is waning, Bitcoin offers a transparent and tamper-proof alternative. Its blockchain technology ensures that transactions are secure, verifiable, and immutable, reducing the risk of fraud and corruption. This trustless system is particularly valuable in regions where financial corruption and instability are rampant, offering a reliable store of value and medium of exchange.

Bitcoin's Impact on Global Trade

The global trade system, burdened by currency fluctuations and the complexities of cross-border transactions, is ripe for disruption. Bitcoin, with its ability to transcend national borders and operate independently of any one country's monetary policy, has the potential to streamline international trade.

By reducing the need for costly currency exchanges and lowering transaction fees, Bitcoin can facilitate smoother and more efficient global trade. This efficiency not only benefits large corporations but also small businesses and individuals who can now participate in the global economy without the barriers imposed by traditional financial systems.

As Bitcoin adoption grows, its role in global trade could become a key factor in stabilizing international relations and fostering economic growth, particularly in developing nations.

The Environmental Impact: A Double-Edged Sword

Bitcoin’s environmental impact has been a topic of heated debate. Critics often point to the significant energy consumption associated with Bitcoin mining, raising concerns about its sustainability. However, this narrative overlooks a critical aspect of Bitcoin's relationship with energy: its potential to stabilize energy grids and contribute to the development of renewable energy sources.

Bitcoin miners often set up operations in regions with abundant but underutilized energy resources, such as hydroelectric power in remote areas. By converting excess energy that would otherwise go to waste into Bitcoin, these miners not only create economic value but also contribute to grid stability. In times of high energy demand, mining operations can be temporarily scaled back, allowing that energy to be redirected to where it is most needed.

Moreover, Bitcoin mining is increasingly being integrated with renewable energy projects, turning what was once seen as an environmental liability into a potential asset. As the world transitions to more sustainable energy sources, Bitcoin’s role in this ecosystem could prove to be a game-changer.

The Future of Bitcoin in Global Finance

Looking ahead, Bitcoin’s potential to serve as a cornerstone of global finance is becoming more apparent. As more institutions, corporations, and even governments begin to recognize Bitcoin's value, its adoption could lead to a more stable and equitable financial system worldwide.

Imagine a world where Bitcoin serves as a universal reserve asset, underpinning national currencies and fostering a new era of financial stability. This is not just a pipe dream; it is a real possibility as the global financial landscape continues to evolve. Bitcoin’s transparent, decentralized, and deflationary nature makes it uniquely suited to play this role.

Conclusion

Bitcoin is more than just a digital currency; it is a force for global stability in a world fraught with uncertainty. Its role as a hedge against inflation, its decentralized nature, and its potential to revolutionize global trade all point to a future where Bitcoin plays a central role in the global financial system.

Furthermore, Bitcoin’s interaction with energy grids and renewable resources adds a new dimension to its potential as a stabilizing force, not just in finance but in the broader context of global sustainability. As we move forward, the world will increasingly look to Bitcoin as a beacon of stability and a foundation for a more secure and equitable future.

Now is the time to recognize the transformative power of Bitcoin and consider its broader implications beyond mere price speculation. The future of global stability may well rest on the shoulders of this remarkable technology, and those who understand and embrace it will be at the forefront of a new era in human history.

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[oldcrowshag]

@actualblanketgremlin stoke the fire, pull up a chair, draw the blanket round your shoulders. do not heed the tap at the window.

lost ships. haunted beaches. wildfires and mother bears. getting older. starting this post was a slap in the face at first because I had to conclude I've had this blog almost ten years. I entered this sphere of the internet in an age where everything had a neat label and correspondence-- and I could have never written about the great lakes back then. their spirits are ancient and wild, inland seas that cast off anyone's bridle.

I spoke on Superior being a psychopomp, but it's lake michigan with the most recorded drownings in her waters. it helps that she borders chicago, and besides the city it also has the most developed shoreline for tourists. I spent every childhood summer there, camping in the dunes. the crashing waves call to you all night until you wake to their sound in the morning.

we all believe in the spirits here, but whether you do or not you are compelled to agree that the lake is haunted. sometimes we just don't recognize a ghost staring us in the face. when the great lakes were some of the country's busiest trading routes there were great ships crossing back and forth day and night-- and some of these the lake never gave back. michigan.org talks about the lost ships we managed to find and cling to:

"The bottomland of the Great Lakes is a time capsule of another era, with thousands of lost schooners, steamers and barges carefully preserved by the cold, fresh waters. They're also now preserved by the Michigan Underwater Preserve System, created by legislation in 1980 that preserves them for generations by making it a felony to remove portholes, anchors, even a fork from a wreck within."

now you can find some with just a snorkel-- if you feel ready to look in the mirror. with all of the wrecks we honor, there is a lingering presence beyond the horizon of the souls we never found. did you know we have our own bermuda triangle of lost things? the michigan triangle is said to stretch from around ludington down to benton harbor or so, and then its third point concludes across the lake in wisconsin. the violent storms in this region have swallowed ships and planes throughout the history of colonization in the area. what do you need accomplished so badly that you would cross a sea of storms to see it achieved? can you confront and embrace that kind of power in your life without letting arrogance drag you to the depths? this is the type of working you can bring to her.

there's an anishinaabe legend that I assume was read aloud to everyone who went to public school in michigan. in ancient wisconsin a mother bear and her two cubs were trapped on the shoreline of lake michigan as the forest they lived in burned to ash. in a desperate bid to save her young, she led them into the water and they began to swim. as they were nearing the opposite shore (about 118 miles later) her struggling cubs succumbed to the depths and drowned. the mother bear reached the shore and collapsed facing the lake, waiting for her cubs that would never come. the Great Spirit took pity on her after watching the events unfold. They raised the cubs from the depths and turned them into the North and South Manitou Islands. the mother bear became the Sleeping Bear Dune, an ecological highlight that still waits for her cubs to this day. can you define a maternal energy in your life? who would you address as mother and what protections can that bring? if nothing else just go climb the dune, the view is worth it.

this post is getting long so I'm going to stick with this maternal discussion, which leans into is very upg. I take from lake michigan a high priestess/suit of cups energy which aligns well with a lot of the hekatean rites I make up. in lighter magic I have drawn a lot of healing energy from this lake and I think others would say the same. I'm not really in the "thin veil" crowd but many lake michigan beaches are a gorgeous, powerful place to make an outdoor altar and connect with both ancestors and the locals. use the driftwood and stones of every color. consulting your preferred divination tool on the shore can reveal very interesting threads. storm water collected respectfully from this lake has shattering results-- good luck collecting it.

choose your own adventure on lake michigan. I leave out years' worth of stories-- ghost towns, lights in the woods, the time I found the Hunt. along with many afternoons on a towel with a good book. if visiting for spiritual purposes, take care in putting up your protections, and that includes sunscreen! 💋

(planning to write more of these about michigan but hearing interest or perhaps requests is nice!)