#interstate highway removal

[horseimagebarn]

horses traveling on a highway meant for cars these horses are many in number and valiant in spirit as they rebel against the removal of horses from main roads following the invention of the automobile they seem to be on the way to chattanooga or greenville or augusta or macon which places them in the united states state of georgia on the interstate i seventy five these georgia horses are on a mission of rebellion against the status quo which is that cars belong on roads and horses belong not on roads

[kelplordsupreme]

Classic wizard question:

If you could replace any one object with a grilled cheese what one object replaced would cause the most chaos?

Rules clarifications-

It is only one object, not all examples of that object (one single dollar bill is replaced with a grilled cheese rather than every dollar bill In the world)

Must be one continuous object (for example you can do one road but not the interstate highway system as that is a collection of several roads)

It must be able to be theoretically removed while still be recognizable as that object (for example you could do a building, including the foundation but not a mountain as without the land it is over it is not a mountain, just a big rock, no oceans or continents)

Has to be on the planet cause deleting the sun or moon is a boring answer.

[askvectorprime]

dear vector prime,

Are sideways and mirror the same entity? Or is there something weirder going on with those two

Dear Sideways Stumped,

Even all this time after having passed on from that reality… I’m sorry to say that Sideways confounds me still. In my attempts to disentangle the origins and nature of this particular foe of mine, I have sought guidance from my multiversal brother, Alchemist Prime. But when he turned the Lenses on that particular universal stream, and focused them on Sideways… he saw only static, like a television tuned to the wrong channel, the cosmic microwave background of the universe. Prior to Sideways’ first appearance before the Autobots and Decepticons, that fateful day on the interstate highway… we could find no trace of him.

However, Runway was convinced he had met Sideways long ago, back on Cybertron, during the war—or rather, Sideways’ rider, who Runway claimed was not one Mini-Con, but two combined, their names Rook and Crosswise. Many of the other Mini-Cons corroborated their existence, and I have seen these figures crop up in alternate realities elsewhere in the multiverse. What the Mini-Cons seem unable to agree on is who Rook and Crosswise were—how they acted, what they did. Were they class traitors, working to sabotage the Mini-Cons’ efforts to escape Cybertron? Were they reactionaries, sowing discontent towards the Autobots, or the opposite? Was it Rook who suggested surrendering to the Decepticons, or Crosswise? If even a small number of these conflicting accounts are accurate, then it seems that these Mini-Cons were capricious indeed. Runway would have it that the Sideways we knew was nothing but a drone, that it was these Mini-Con steering him all along. Runway can be narrow-minded—why, he made similar remarks about Overload, whose relationship with Rollout was, in truth, vastly more complex than that—but his theory has a ring of truth to it. For when Sideways’ rider spoke, it was with the same voice, as though it was only through some act of ventriloquism that the bike could speak at all.

In one of his final reports, Rhinox hypothesised that Sideways was the successor to the race of Mini-Cons created by Unicron: not one entity, but rather a cloud of Nano-Cons, capable of infecting all forms of computerized life, undergoing constant transformation at a near-molecular level. In a combined state, it would be able to change appearance entirely—which would certainly explain his radical makeover by the time of his reappearance during the search for the Cyber Planet Keys.

Still, this fails to explain where Sideways came from in the first place—not as a collection of matter, but as a set of ideas: a name, a voice, a vehicle, a personality. The Unicron I know is not possessed of the spark of creativity. There must have been someone, at some point in history, who looked like that, and behaved like that… On Earth, there must have been a purple motorcycle, but I have not been able to locate it. Who did it belong to? What happened to them?

If Sideways, Rook, and Crosswise truly did exist… then what became of them? Did Unicron destroy them, and fashion a mirror from their shattered remains, a figurehead for bad luck? Or did he keep them alive, enslaved, at times reduced to mere puppets? In those moments where that cool, aloof temperament yielded to a more sinister and chaotic demeanour… was this simply a mask being removed, or a hand slipping into a glove? I wonder if they gave themselves willingly, as Thrust later tried, in his folly.

The Sideways I knew seemed almost like a different person entirely, a brazen buffoon who delighted in stoking the mistrust of others, and whose final act seemed to serve no greater purpose than simple patriotism. Unicron, by that point, had already been all but defeated; whatever fragment of his essence remained in Megatron’s body, and in the black hole, was little more than an echo, a rerun. If Sideways was still a pawn of the chaos bringer, then he was removed from play before he could make his final move.

But I have walked the streets of Planet X. I have met the gaze of passers-by, so similar in their construction, and thought—“Are you him?” Later, when Alchemist Prime looked, he could only confirm what I already suspected. It’s just a maze of white noise.

That reminds me… did you know that one of the Galactic Guardians pilots a vehicle that looks almost identical to that alien alt-mode of his? I passed by the TV once, and saw it. Safeguard does not see the resemblance…

[urbanism-and-transit]

Minnesota has been a hot spot for Urbanism and Public Transport progress for the better part of the last couple of years.

I-35 is being removed and is now in the process of designing what the new stretch would look like, and if you want to read more on how and why they did this, I will drop their mission statement below

Olson Memorial Highway has been granted the funds to convert into a Boulevard

Lastly to take more about Minneapolis proper, a report done by Fortune in 2023 showcased that the removal of single house zone restrictions and building more mixed used housing that had a percentage carved out for lower income people, was the main reason Minneapolis was about to cool off inflation and basically stop the nation wide rental spike from hitting the cities.

To add on, HF 4009 is a bill that will shore up multifamily zoning and make sure towns and cities use the ground when they are available.

Minnesota is also taking a huge step, with a new law introduced last year to ban parking minimums state wide. Parking minimums are one of the main reasons single family homes take up so much space, and the large, dead parking lots that every shopping center has

And for the final thing, and the most important in my view, the Northern Lights Rail last year had funding allocated from the state for the project and are now waiting for the release of federal funds to complete the last 80% of the funding

Even though Minnesota is seen as a more quiet state where nothing really major happens, it goes to show that when the a group of passionate people gather and want to make a change, and are able to convince a state body to throw their weight around to get the grants for it, the sky's the limit on what can be done for communities

-Wamter

[lucy4242564]

.birds of a feather.

chapter six

Rick’s probably more your type

word count: 3.9k

.georgia, georgia, he has beautiful bones.

“Maybe we should just go back," Glenn suggested, spreading the map out. “There's an interstate bypass-"

"Can't spare the fuel.” Dale interrupted.

“Can we get through here?" Glenn asked.

A car graveyard in front of us, the only sign of life being Daryl leading the RV through it. “Hopefully.” I winced both visibly and verbally when we got a little too close to one of the trucks.

"Scared your boyfriend might get us stuck?” Andrea asked, and had it not been for the boyfriend comment, I might have responded with a light hearted joke. All she was doing was trying to rile me up though— which was disappointing considering I saw so much of my sister in her.

So I stayed silent.

Everything was going smoothly until we heard a loud pop and saw smoke billowing in front of us. We quickly evacuated the RV and found ourselves on the open road.

A graveyard was a euphemism, this place was a ghost town; a permanent traffic jam couldn’t have been any of those peoples idea of their final resting place. It was so morbid how we were just casually looting their cars like they weren’t either dead corpses in the front seats or the rotting stench of flesh left behind by walkers. Lori wasn’t the only one bothered by the bodies- - she just seemed to be the only one that said anything from what I can still remember of that day. That harrowing, tragic evening— we had no idea how bad it really was for an entire week. So much was gained - but so much was lost.

As three or four dozen walkers casually strolled down the highway like it was their morning walk, our group began hiding under, beside, and inside the scattered vehicles. I saw T go down outside the truck I was hiding in, and call it stupid or call it brave -- maybe both, but I peered cautiously from the slightly opened door to see if he was bit before removing my shirt and whistling for him to take it. The tension was palpable as we navigated the dangers of the post-apocalyptic world. Daryl dug his knife into a walkers throat that would’ve been T’s death sentence because neither of us had paid any mind to the fact there were other threats— not just metal digging up forearms. Then the most disgusting thing since all of this had happened was tossed on top of me; a dead geek. Sanitary was at the bottom of my concerns currently though, so I sucked it up and let the body rest on top of my own.

Once the walking dead stumbled obliviously through, I kicked the corpse off of me and started working on getting the one off T-Dog. I hoped my shirt covered his wound enough for it to not get infected with the walker juice.

“Come on, let’s get you to the RV.” I tried to keep my tone as calm as I possibly could, despite the blood-soaked cloth that covered his arm. Shrieks filled the air— it was Sophia and Carol. Daryl looked between T-Dog, the RV, and then the woods, stuck on what obstacle he’d be more use for, “You go, I’ll get T handled.” So I made the choice for him. With a quick nod, he bolted over towards the railing that Rick had just hopped over.

“What happened?” Dale asked, like his day just kept getting worse and worse. I mean— it had, but he was exasperated.

When I saw Andrea with guts all over her, I realized Dale really had been going through it.

“Not sure, but he needs more pressure. I have another clean shirt, give me a minute.” Once T was leaned against the Winnebago, I bolted inside and to my book-bag. One sleep shirt was all I had that was still for sure clean, and I didn’t want to risk T-Dog getting an infection because of an accidental dirty cloth. Groaning to myself, I snatched it out and threw it to Dale. “Keep pressure. I’m going to go find out what’s happening— Carol knows how to stitch.”

Carol did know how to stitch, but she was in no shape to be near a needle. Rick came out the woods empty handed which sent her into another sobbing fit.

I nudged his arm, whispering up to him, just loud enough for him to hear, “Daryl,” then I nodded to the woods. It wasn’t my place to be concerned about a little girl that I didn’t even know— it especially wasn’t my place to silently plead for Daryl to go look for her. I was getting too comfortable.

He didn’t hesitate to take the suggestion, though. Almost like he’d been thinking of doing it without being prompted but needed an extra nudge.

Rick led the way, while Shane, Glenn, and Daryl followed. “You comin’?” Daryl asked, shouting back to me once he’d crossed over the guard rail. My face scrunched up, but I wasted no time bolting behind the four men. Something about him voicing out my inclusion made me feel good about myself— like I could help contribute something.

The fact that we had only walked for a maximum of ten minutes meant Sophia couldn’t have gotten far- - not without really booking it.

"Assumin’ she knows her left from her right.” Shane commented after Rick confirmed everything he’d told Sophia.

"Shane, she understood me fine”

“Kid's tired and scared, man, she had her a close call with two walkers. Y’gotta wonder how much of what you said stuck." Shane didn’t let up.

Rick, Daryl and I stood in the ankle deep water, while Shane and Glenn looked around the wooded area that Rick had left Sophia. Daryl hummed lowly and wordlessly showed me what I could only assume was the little girl’s footprints. "I got clear prints right here.” Daryl confirmed what I thought he was trying to tell me. “She did like you said, headed back to the highway. Let's spread out, make our way back."

I hoisted myself up the short incline before Shane got there to pull me up, then we did like Daryl suggested. We headed back, following his lead for a minute or two before we stopped. We all crouched lower, trying to make sense of why Sophia would’ve stopped going the right way. The tracks veered to the right, but there was only one set of footprints still- - so it made no sense for it to be a walker that caused her to run.

“So, what do we do?" Shane asked both Rick and Daryl. "All of us press on?"

"No, better if you three get back up to the highway," Rick ordered, nodding his head in between me, Glenn, and Shane. "People are gonna start panicking. Let them know we're on her trail, doin' everything we can— But most of all, keep everyone calm."

"I'll keep them busy scavengin' cars." Shane nodded. "Think up a few other chores. I'll keep everybody occupied.”

“Be safe!” I called back to Rick and Daryl. I hadn’t contributed much at all, but the fact that I’d been thought of and brought along was enough for me.

_____________

Shane gave me a clean shirt of his, and despite my personal issues with the his sexist comments, I did plan on keeping the shirt. It was a good shirt. It had that super plush feel, thick but not overly heavy, and a nice stretch. There was a ‘King County Sheriff’s Department’ emblem on the top right corner. It hung pretty low on me, causing me to tuck it in so it pillowed out. The gesture had been nice.

As soon as I checked on T-Dog, I took watch on top of the RV while the rest of the crew moved cars and made a clear path for our caravan to get through. Carol mourned and I wished that I could do something for her, but standing guard in case another hoard of walkers decided to dilly-dally by would have to be good enough for now. The only thing that passed by was time. By the time sun started setting, I saw a display of canned goods, water, weapons, and even some clothes on the ground outside of the RV. The only people that ended the day empty handed had been Rick and Daryl.

A distraught Carol was begging for them to keep looking, and despite how harsh he tended to be, Daryl had quieted her gently. It wasn’t his fault her little girl got lost though, she didn’t put any blame on him. She was angry with Rick.

"I know this is hard, but I'm askin' you not to panic, we know she was out there." Rick explained to the group.

"And we tracked her for a while.” Daryl added, making a point to look at the sobbing woman.

“We have to make this an organized effort, Daryl knows the woods better than anybody. I've asked him to oversee this." Rick continued on, but before he could finish his talking, Carol spotted blood that had covered Daryl’s jeans.

"We took down a walker," Rick was fighting for his life.

"Walker?" Carol whispered, echoing his words. “Oh god."

"There was no sign it was ever anywhere near Sophia-“

"How can you know that?" Andrea implored, cutting Rick off.

The look between Daryl and Rick would’ve been comical if the situation had been different.

“We cut the son of a bitch open, made sure."

Carol’s breaths were coming in heavy and she could only stay supported by the guardrails at that point. "How could you just leave her out there to begin with? How could you just leave her?” She began crying, throwing her grief at Rick yet again.

I think we all felt it.

Nobody wanted to blame Rick, but nobody could blame Carol for feeling how she felt either. No matter how much reassurance Shane tried giving Rick, and no matter how much Rick apologized to Carol- - a piece of the group cracked that day. A piece of Rick cracked that day.

_____________

Hours later, I settled in a truck bed next to Carol. She’d asked to be alone for a while, but I was about to go to bed and I felt the need to provide what little bit of consolation I could. We didn’t talk for a few minutes, just gazed at the tree line, trying to use the force to bring Sophia from wherever she was. We all knew the struggle that Carol and Sophia had gone through up until Ed got bit— they were both adjusting to life outside of abuse. It had been a while, but I knew what that was like. In the old world it had been a difficult thing to conform to, there was no telling how it was these days. Was it even an escape? It seemed like it was out of the pot and into the frying pan kind of deal.

“Hey,” I finally mumbled out, leaning my head on Carol’s shoulder. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, but she pressed her cheek against the crown of my hair. “Daryl’s got a trail, and we’re all going to look tomorrow. We’ll find her. She can’t be that far.”

“Everyone keeps saying that, but why didn’t they find her today if she was so close?” Carol didn’t miss a beat.

I bit my lip and considered what she said. Daryl wouldn’t have lied— not about that kind of thing. If he had a trail, he had a trail. But Carol’s question was just as valid. “I’m not sure,” I admitted plainly, “I wish I had better words for you, but even if I did, they wouldn’t matter unless Sophia came out those woods right now.”

Carol let out a humorless chuckle, “Yeah. You know, she likes you; Sophia.”

“She doesn’t know me.”

“You talked kindly to her. She said that your hair was pretty that night at the nursing home, but I don’t think you heard her.”

I shook my head slowly, trying to recall Sophia talking to me at all. The only real exchange we had was when I told her that I liked her sparkly shoes. “She speaks very softly,” I nudged Carol and tilted my head back up. “A lot like her mom.”

“Do you think he really has a lead on her?”

“Mhm,” I nodded reassurance while sliding out the truck, “If I was lost somewhere, especially in the woods, I’d put my money on Daryl.”

_____________

I woke well before sunrise the next morning— sleeping in the back of a crossover is probably the most uncomfortable sleep I’d ever gotten. At least— so far.

Daryl was puffing on a cigarette, a breakfast of champions. “Nice shirt.” He looked me up and down.

It’s a strange thing, the pit in your stomach that forms when you feel like you’ve been caught sneaking in late at night. I felt stupid all of a sudden- - wearing another man’s shirt while standing right in front of the guy I slept with a few nights before. It wasn’t like we were dating or anything though, he’d made it clear that it was nothing like that. I was okay with it being that way too. The lack of emotional attachment was necessary these days. Even then though - I knew I was already in deep with him. Him, Glenn, Rick, and Dale— they were members of an elite club that they had no idea about; it only existed in my mind.

“I used my last clean one to wrap T-Dog’s arm.” I shrugged, trying to play it off. “Shane threw it at me when we got back, said it was gonna get cold.”

He grunted before offering me a cigarette that I refused.

“Stay close, I’ll try’n show ya some stuff while we’re out today. Trackin’ a person ain’t that different n’ ya already know the basics.”

“Thanks for letting me come yesterday.”

His gaze was focused on stomping out the burnt down cigarette, “S’ our thing right?” The recall of my words coming from him made me smile. “Yer a quick learner.” Then his eyes trained on mine- - I think that was the first time I ever really noticed his eye color. He had cat-like eyes and we hadn’t really been in a position to stare into one another’s orbs, so it made sense that the true blue color hadn’t yet settled into my memory.

“Told ya.” I winked, a small laugh trickling out my lips.

God he was so attractive.

I had fucked that.

Or vice versa.

The morning continued typical — er, as typical as it could be. We split up some food to enjoy as breakfast, Rick made a game plan officially putting Daryl in charge, Andrea was having a hissy fit because Shane wanted to take the guns and give them to Dale. Judging from some of the conversation, they must have already argued about it before. It didn’t bother me, I had my bow and I was decent with a knife. Sure, getting used to using a gun probably wouldn’t hurt, but we were on the hunt for a missing child, not facing off against a herd.

"The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, turn around and come back down the other side," Daryl chewed at his lip, "Chances are she'll be by the creek. It's her only landmark."

"Stay quiet and stay sharp, keep space between you but always stay within sight of each other." Rick announced.

Daryl nodded at me to follow behind him, “Not you, you stay with me.” He muttered under his breath, “Get some learnin’ in, like I said.”

“Yes, sir.”

“S’hot,” he leaned against a truck and wiped his forehead.

“I know you are, but what am I?” I teased, pushing against his side.

Daryl snorted out a half-laugh, “Shuddup.” He pushed me back over. “Ain’t no way yer hot wearin’ them short shorts.”

My mouth dropped dramatically open and a small gape of fake disbelief left my mouth, “I’ll have you know, most men love my short shorts.” I dropped my shoulders, “but I get it. Rick’s probably more your type. Maybe I’ll see if he wants to borrow a pair.”

This time he scoffed and adjusted his crossbow. The banter was quickly ended by Andrea’s argument with Dale. I could one thousand percent see both of their points, but if I needed to choose, I’d have chosen Andrea’s side. Not everyone could deal with the loss of their family— especially right in front of them. I seriously don’t know if I could’ve just continued on after watching my sister get ripped open. That was a little solace to my situation; not knowing. Andrea knew, she witnessed it, and that would have destroyed a lot of people. Dale had a savior complex though. It wasn’t malicious or even slightly ill-intended— he was just trying to protect what he had salvaged out of the end of the world. He still had no right to take that option away from Andrea, not with how shitty the world was now. Suicide had crossed my mind a lot of times, but my will to live was a lot stronger than dying.

When Daryl made the move to head to the woods, I followed at his side along with the rest of the group. The weight of the argument held all of us in silence; our steps a mere lullaby to keep voices down.

A few words here and there -- nothing over a whisper for miles. Daryl gestured to a few things on the ground, indicating how to know certain things. Then we wandered right onto a dud of a tent. Just a man who’d committed suicide— ironic really; considering the argument from earlier. And the church bells rang, but that had only ended in us being attacked by walkers. A very very morbid scene indeed. But the bells were on a timer— a stupid fucking timer.

Our group scattered after that.

Some went into the church, others walked around the cemetery, I took refuge underneath a shady tree. We should’ve found Sophia by now. Unless that little girl wandered off all through the night, she shouldn’t have been but a mile or two out.

“You and Shane?” Glenn questioned, standing above me and blocking out the peaking sunshine that wasn’t quite falling on my face.

I looked at him quizzically, wondering what had stirred that on, then remembered the shirt I was wearing. It could’ve been either Shane’s or Rick’s, but only one of them had been around when I began adorning it. “No,” I sang, “not me and Shane. I just didn’t have any clean clothes, and it was before we scavenged the cars completely.”

“Okay, okay, I was just joking, but I’m not joking about you and Daryl?” He rose his eyebrows teasingly. “He’s been keeping you pretty close.”

“He’s,” my face turned red, and I knew it wasn’t from the heat. I sighed deeply, closing my eyes and trying to hide a smile. “He’s teaching me things…and we may have…” I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter, “possibly had sex at the CDC.”

A rush of air whipped down beside me and the overwhelming presence of somebody sitting next to me, gave me the memo to open my eyes.

“No.” The word was low, but not entirely whispered.

All I could do was nod and crinkle my nose up. There was zero privacy to discuss anything more important or intimate than television shows and video games since we’d left the city. This was actually the most time i’d spent exclusively with Glenn since the quarry. Our fun little routine of talking about nonsense each evening and snacking on whatever he’d found in Atlanta had ended so abruptly that we never really got to say goodbye to it. To have a final time doing that. Maybe when we got to Fort Benning, things could go back to how they had been. Or at least something reminiscent of that.

A year ago, nothing could have prepared me for missing eating sour patch kids in a tent with a pizza delivery boy.

A year ago, nothing could have prepared me for the dead rising and trying to eat me either.

Weird how those two interlace with each other.

Still— we talked about his god awful experience at getting drunk, and how he’d adventured down to the basement of the CDC. Then when his heart was going to beat out of his chest because he thought Shane had been a goner when the Jeep caught fire.

Eventually we saw the others gathering and decided we should probably join in.

Shane began spitting out the plan to everyone, "Y'all’re just gonna follow the creek bed back, okay?" he then looked to the archer that wasn’t me. “Daryl, you're in charge. Me and Rick, we're just gonna hang back, search this area another hour or so just to be thorough."

"You're splittin' us up.” Daryl stated, looking to Rick. "You sure?"

"Yeah, we'll catch up to you," Shane answered instead.

"I wanna stay, too, I’m her friend.” Carl interjected.

Lori looked at Rick briefly before looking back at their son. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will.” The boy responded happily.

"When did you start growing up?" Lori pulled him close and gave him a kiss on top of his head.

"Here, take this.” Rick shoved his pistol to Lori after she gave him a quick peck. “Remember how to use it?"

"I'm not takin' your gun and leavin' you unarmed.” Lori shook her head.

"Here," Daryl interrupted and held out a gun of his own, offering it to Lori. "I got a spare. Take it." Rick seemed to appreciate that, giving Daryl a small smile. “Why don’t you stay with them?” He turned me, fully addressing me for the first time in front of the entire group. “Try’n keep on that little girl’s trail. They need someone that knows what they’re doin’” His tone was unsure, but still firm.

I looked over to Rick, almost asking for permission, but he was already smiling in agreement.

Rick ducked into the church for a few minutes, then back to the woods we went. I was a little nervous at the fact I was taking the lead and was at the front lines of something. It wasn’t that serious or anything; just searching for a little girl like her life depended on it—except it did.

“Hey,” I whispered to the three guys after I’d taken note of deer tracks. “Look.” We’d been walking for about an hour at that point and the sun was getting ready set. Showing Carl the set of prints wouldn’t do much, but it would maybe boost his morale. Kid’s were easier to appease than adults in times like these. “Deer tracks.” And the way his little blue eyes lit up made up for all the depressing shit that was going on.

“Cool.” His voice was in awe.

Without any time for him to really soak it in, a branch snapped not far from us and it was back to reality we went. Then— like the world knew we needed an extra boost, a massive buck stepped out of the bushes. The large animal was such a serene sight, beautiful and paying no mind to the group of us. When Shane aimed his gun, Rick stopped him, just as Carl approached the deer. Step by step, Carl inched closer and closer, reaching his hand out to touch it.

He was so taken in by the animal- - we all were - - then when he little body dropped to the ground reality set back in.

A reality nobody had ever expected.

.and he never lies or picks up his phone.

[transit-fag]

Scenario: there’s a cross-city street (residential and commercial and cuts through a university campus) that’s got two-way traffic with a left turn lane and parking on both sides of the street. It carries a fair bit of traffic, especially folks in town who don’t want to take the interstate, but isn’t a state highway. People fly up and down it making it unsafe for pedestrians and bicyclists alike.

The challenge (should you choose to accept it): make this street safer for everyone.

Remove the left turn lanes and replace them with a center turn lane, use that left over land for protected bike lane, add curb bumpouts at the intersection to increase pedestrian visibility and plant street trees, all of these should work in combination to slow down drivers

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Windy City of Lights

At night, the Windy City transforms into a city of lights, illuminated by the orange and white hues of the Chicago Metropolitan Area. In this nighttime photo, taken by an astronaut aboard the International Space Station, light-yellow lights illuminate the city’s densely populated downtown area.

The Chicago Harbor and Navy Pier in downtown Chicago extend into Lake Michigan. Warm-hued lights illuminate sprawling roadways like Interstate 90, which stands out as the wide, orange line. The range of colors in nighttime cityscapes worldwide, including Chicago, is often due to the types of lighting used. High-pressure sodium lighting has a much warmer tone than the cooler, blue-to-green-hued light-emitting diodes (LEDs).

Flowing through the city, the Chicago River appears as a slender strip of darkness, running nearly parallel to interstates 55 and 90. The Chicago River connects Lake Michigan barge traffic to neighboring rivers, such as the Des Plaines River, through tributaries and various canal systems. The Des Plaines River appears as a dark feature between the metropolitan area and Chicago O’Hare International Airport. This river is lined with nature preserves, golf courses, and parks, all of which appear dark in this nighttime image. In urban landscapes, city lights outline dark and open areas like the Rosehill Cemetery and Big Marsh Park.

As Chicago expanded in the late 1800s, the city needed a solution to simplify navigation. The city was reorganized into a grid layout, restructuring street names, address numbers, and blocks into north-south and east-west orientations. This grid pattern is made obvious by the nighttime lights of the urban area. The warm-toned lights associated with residential areas contrast with the predominantly white lighting of commercial, industrial, and transportation areas. These land uses typically line highways and are spread across the outskirts of the Chicago area.

Astronaut photograph ISS070-E-105097 was acquired on March 1, 2024, with a Nikon D5 digital camera using a focal length of 400 millimeters. It is provided by the ISS Crew Earth Observations Facility and the Earth Science and Remote Sensing Unit, Johnson Space Center. The image was taken by a member of the Expedition 70 crew. The image has been cropped and enhanced to improve contrast, and lens artifacts have been removed. The International Space Station Program supports the laboratory as part of the ISS National Lab to help astronauts take pictures of Earth that will be of the greatest value to scientists and the public, and to make those images freely available on the Internet. Additional images taken by astronauts and cosmonauts can be viewed at the NASA/JSC Gateway to Astronaut Photography of Earth. Caption by Sara Schmidt, GeoControl Systems, JETS II Contract at NASA-JSC.

[zooophagous]

Strauss rested in the back seat of the SUV as best he could. It was his eternal dismay that being dead did not make him immune to motion sickness. Ursula seemed to be trying to make him vomit on purpose, with the way she drove. It was all to make sure they weren’t followed, sure. An hour of riding through it while hiding folded up inside one’s own shirt trying to avoid both sunlight and being seen however was beginning to put him over threshold.

Fortunately there were fewer sharp turns to take once they hit the interstate. She was speeding, yes, but at least the car was going straight and not slamming him into the door with every curve. 

Artemis looked sick too, but her for other reasons than Ursula’s panicky driving. She held a distant, silent stare on the horizon, her brow knit tightly in thought. Nobody spoke. There wasn’t much of a point to it. All of the questions everyone had, they all had the same answers to. Or lack of answers, rather.

Strauss finally broke the silence with one pertinent query. “Where are we going?”

“Home.” Artemis replied flatly.

“Home?”

“The Van Helsing family home.” Ursula clarified. “Technically, it’s Artie’s house. It’s been empty for quite some time however. Nobody is currently living in it, except for perhaps some mice.”

Strauss smirked slightly. “Mice I can fix. Is this a safe place?”

“It’s been vacant for years.” Artemis sighed. “Nobody at the Institute would know where it is, nobody goes there. I don’t even go there. Sylvain never even got to see where it was.” Artemis glanced over her shoulder at Strauss in the back seat.

“It’s going to be dusty. Probably has a few things wrong with it.”

“How far away is it?”

“About another half hour, as the crow flies.” Ursula replied. “I’ve seen to it that the house is kept. Artie may not call it home, but it is part of the institute and its history. I wouldn’t let it fall into disrepair.” She huffed, almost as if Artemis’ comments were some sort of insult. 

“Artie is right, however, it will need a good dusting. We’ll also need some basics. Food. Toiletries. Laundry detergent.” She gave Strauss a sideways glance. “You especially are in desperate need of a change of clothes. We will have to drop you off at the house. You cannot be seen like this.”

Strauss looked down at his shirt, smirched with soot and gore. Ursula was right. The smell of it was pungent, too. Some of the deep red- now drying to maroon and brown- blood stains on it were those of his enemies, but a not insignificant portion was his own. A gaping hole below his collarbone exposed the bloody pit of his emergency bullet removal self-surgery.

“I do not wish to be seen like this, Frau Harker. I do not wish to be seen. I wish to retreat to my grave beneath the earth and sleep for decades.”

“Mr. Strauss, do not be flattered if I tell you I wish I could join you. Today has been Hell.”

Strauss carefully ventured a look out the window of the car. It was shadier here, the further east they traveled. They were cutting deep into forested timberland, slowing along the narrow two lane highway. 

The highway gave way to a small town, most of it invisible behind tall thicks of pine, accented with fire-colored maple trees. Even in the gloom of late fall, it would have been a pretty town, if not for the foul mood of the travelers.

“This is the town of Crystal Springs.” Ursula droned on as she drove. Playing the part of an educator was natural to her, and a welcome distraction.

“It is a pitiful little do-nothing town that owes its existence to the now defunct fur trade and an equally defunct paper mill. Finding food for you here is going to be a task, I can tell you that much. Hopefully you will be as difficult to find as you are to feed.” 

They slowed to a safe crawl as they turned into the main drag of the little town. The wide street was lined with old shops and brick buildings. The elaborate cornices and moldings on the main street stores spoke of history and civic pride, though the more beautiful buildings among them were marred with plywood nailed over their windows like coins on a dead man’s eyes.

Strauss looked away. Something more dead than alive made him feel like he was looking into a mirror, and he hated mirrors. The main street was as short as it was deserted, and they turned onto a side road lined with old houses. These houses were beautiful too, once, though many of them now fallen into disrepair, the work of an unhappy master more interested in rent money than in preservation.

Save one.

At the end of the drive was a long driveway lined with trees. Above the leafless late fall canopy, the edifice rose to the sky. Strauss mistook it, briefly, for a small cathedral. The dark siding and severe roofline gave it an almost comically haunted appearance, but the amount of detail in her stained glass windows and the size and weight of the place showed that was real, and took itself quite seriously. 

Strauss knew what it was before anyone even said anything. “That can only be the Van Helsing family manor.”

“Quite astute, Mr. Strauss. This is Hell House. Affectionate nickname. It isn’t built to cope with all out war, but it will be as good a shelter as any, for now.”

The car slowed to a stop in front of the steps of the great porch. The crew slipped from the vehicle and shuffled in.

“You might be the only vampire to be invited into Van Helsing’s home.”

“After all we have endured, Artemis, inviting me into your home should not be troublesome.”

“True, I’ve always been warned never to do it though, once a vampire moves in with you they tend to be hard to remove.” She smirked.

“If you want him gone I assure you he will be simple to remove, Artie.” Ursula rolled her eyes and fumbled with her keys.

“Hurry up and open the door. The sun is still more than bright enough to hurt.”

“Well, if you’d like to try all 20 keys on the ring and see if you’re any faster at guessing the correct one you’re more than welcome to- ah. Here we are.”

Ursula pushed the door open. A square of gray light flooded the foyer, along with a swirl of fall leaves that blew in from outside on the lightest breeze. The house was dark, cold, old and austere. Everything its owner was not. Artemis stepped inside looking almost nervous, though it was “home” to her.

Or at least the closest thing to it. She looked over her shoulder at Strauss, who still stood back with trepidation, though the sun beat down on his back. She looked at him and gave him the direct invitation he wanted.

“Please, come in.”

He did so quickly, finding a comfortable thick shadow within to hide himself in. Ursula stepped in wearily.

“Will you two be ok here, if I go into town and grab a few things?”

“You want to go alone?”

“Someone has to keep an eye on that one. And I don’t want anyone to see you. I’d rather they come for me, not you. Besides, it might be a long trip. I will need to find a medical clinic and see if I can’t convince them to part with some blood draw supplies. Mr. Strauss will need fed sooner or later, and the cutlery in the kitchen isn’t exactly sterile.”

Artemis looked down. Auntie was, as usual, right. But then something caught her eye, and she got down close to look at it.

“What’s up with your leg?”

Ursula stepped back to hide it. “It’s nothing. Got a bit banged up in the fire is all.”

“That is not nothing!” Artemis demanded, and made to grab at her aunt’s ankle.

“Don’t TOUCH it! It’s tender!”

“Of course it’s tender, auntie, that's a huge burn. You have to go to the hospital!”

“I will GO where I damn well please!” She inhaled deeply and collected herself. “Sorry, sorry. I will… make it a point to mention it when I get to the clinic. But it is hardly my first priority. There is very little they can do for this sort of burn. But making a clean and comfortable and livable house? That is well within my abilities. Stay down and don’t open any doors to anyone.”

“Of course.” 

Ursula limped down the steps and back to the car. Artemis closed the heavy door behind her with a creak and a thunk, and forced the heavy deadbolt to turn. She turned with a stiff smile to Strauss, who had made himself quite at home in the shadowy manor.

“Well? Here she is. What do you think? Will it do for now?”

“It will have to, Frau Van Helsing. This place is old and cold and strange looking. Therefore, it is perfect. Are you quite sure no vampire has crossed the threshold before? It looks like a place a vampire would live.”

He wandered slowly through the foyer, slowly turning his head to take in the details of the dusty old home. It was quite a bit more beautiful than the institute, save for maybe the library. If it still existed.

“Perhaps ‘live’ is not the correct word. It seems a place a vampire would dwell. A place a vampire would haunt.”

“I don’t know about haunting, but you’ll be sleeping here for now. Hopefully we can get a couple of days out of this place before we have to move on.”

“Where else would we go?”

“Don’t know yet. We’ll have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

She made her way to the staircase and turned her head to look back at him. “Come on. I’ll give you the tour.”

The light from outdoors filtered in softly through stained glass windows. It was softened enough to be both safe and beautiful for the shadow lover. Strauss ran his hand along the heavy carved wooden bannister as he followed up the stairs. The dulled light and pleasantly heavy textures seemed to him to have almost been tailor made for a vampire. How odd then, that he was the first of his kind to see it. Perhaps Van Helsings and vampires were not such different animals.

“Here’s the master bedroom.” Artemis motioned to a large room off the narrow hallway at the top of the stairs. It was furnished with heavy wooden antique furnishings, but the mattress was bare without sheets. It smelled of dust.

“And you’ll be in here. This is my old bedroom.”

She opened the door to reveal a much more modest bedroom. It had a stark disconnect from the rest of the house in its contemporary style- at least relatively speaking. The pink plastic boom-box collecting dust on the dresser certainly didn’t match the rest of the home. It did look, however, like a live human at least used to live here once. 

“I like the horse posters.”

“Come on, lets find some sheets and start getting laundry ready. I want to have it done as soon as Ursula gets back with the soap.”

“Yes. I am quite anxious to get out of this shirt. The dry blood is quite itchy.”

“I’m sorry. I’m under so much stress I didn’t even check if you were ok. Did they hurt you?”

“They tried.” Strauss absentmindedly scratched at the wound beneath his clavicle. “I did a better job of hurting them than they did of hurting me.”

“How many?”

Strauss hesitated to answer for a moment, but just a moment. 

“Three.”

“I see. Auntie says she got one. I saw Troy take four.”

“Yes. Herr Cunningham has made mincemeat of the competition. If we get an opportunity for a rematch I will beat that record.”

“I think for now we should focus on survival and not murder.”

“Not murder, never murder. Self defense. Even as docile as I am, I have managed to have my fill and then some this evening. That at least saves you and Frau Harker the necessity of finding a way to feed me for a couple of days.”

“That’s good at least. I highly doubt auntie is on board with you biting either of us.”

“No, and I should rather go hungry than harm you. I had forgotten…”

“Forgotten what?”

“How good it felt.” Strauss licked his fangs. “How good it felt to take it straight from the life source. One could become addicted to this, without caution.”

“Just my luck you’d start talking like that as soon as I have no weapons and no way to hide from you except a wooden door.” Artemis snarked. “I kid, I kid. Come on, sheets are downstairs.”

Artemis made her way back down the stairs, the hunt for clean linens a welcome distraction. Strauss followed her slowly, busying himself in the details of the old house. It was Artemis’ house, but not only her house. The ancestral Van Helsings may be rolling in their graves to see him in their territory.

Well. Let them roll.

He made his way down the sweeping staircase. He startled a moment, as his own great shadow on the wall, looming over the foyer as he was bathed in red light from the stained glass and setting sun. Such nervousness was unbecoming of a creature of the night. He swore to put it from his mind. He reached the bottom of the staircase.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

He froze. There were shapes, human shapes in the colorful glass window that obscured the view into the house from the front door. He could see them bobbing around the glass, trying to steal a look inside.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Far too early to be Ursula, and she had the keys anyway. So much for the safe house. Options fired through Strauss’ brain rapidly. Surrender, hope they take him and spare Artemis. Fight back, likely die fighting. Flee into the forest, be hunted like an animal, likely to die anyway.

Surrender hadn’t worked well the first time he tried it, and now with several of their comrades dead, they would kill for revenge. Death, it seemed, was imminent. He resolved then to die fighting, and give Artemis a chance to perhaps flee for her own life.

He marched towards the door and grappled with the deadbolt. Finally he threw it open, causing the intruders to stagger back. He leapt out the threshold with claws up and fangs bared, lunging on one forward foot with a powerful, almost crocodilian hiss.

His threat display worked. It worked too well. Two women stepped back, nearly falling down the steps, their hands over their mouths, gasping and giggling with apparent glee. Strauss looked down to see, in front of them, a child. 

The boy was wearing a red and black costume cape, one he nearly tripped on- and though heavily cloaked in greasepaint, Strauss could see the genuine terror in his eyes. The boy clutched a plastic pumpkin for dear life.

“UH… Uh… uh…” The boy stammered. “Trick or treat?”

Strauss stopped short, caught entirely off guard. “What is this?” He drew himself up to his full, intimidating height, fangs still bared and balefully glaring at the newcomers.

“Who is foolish enough to accost a vampire in his lair, hm? And what is the meaning of this.” He motioned to the boy. “Have you come for me? Did you dress him in this to insult me?”

The pair of strangers giggled nervously. “Oh wow, you guys really go all out for this. I LOVE your costume! When did you move in? I’m Ashley by the way-”

“Oh, hi neighbors.” Artemis appeared in the door behind Strauss, and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“We actually just got here from out of town a little bit ago. Sorry, we’re prepping for a Halloween party and we totally forgot to get any candy. Can I give you a quarter instead?”

She smiled brightly at the young boy who silently, fearfully nodded. 

“Oh that’s fine. We didn’t know anyone had moved back in. It’s been empty forever, but when we saw the truck earlier we figured we could go check. It’s always been so disappointing that the scariest house on the block never had any candy on Halloween.”

“We’ll have to fix that.” Artemis smiled, and handed a shiny quarter to Strauss. “Just drop that right in the bucket.”

Strauss was silent in his confusion, but did as bidden, and reached out a bony claw to deposit the token in the boy’s basket. 

“Well if your costumes are this good, I can’t wait to see the decor you come up with next year. VERY convincing. You could honestly do movies with stuff this good.”

“Danke, Frau Ashley.” Strauss bowed his head. The child reached up a hand as if to ask a question. Strauss turned his hawkish gaze to the boy.

“Yes?”

“Are… are you a REAL vampire?” The boy asked in a hushed not quite whisper. Strauss bent down to look him in the eye.

“Yes. But do not tell anyone. There are vampire slayers around.” He winked.

The boy gasped, and ran to hide behind his laughing mother. “We better get going, but I’ll stop by later to properly say hi if you’re up for it. Welcome to the neighborhood!”

“Thanks.” 

Artemis exchanged painful glances with Strauss. As they shut the door the eager cries of “That was a REAL vampire! A real one! I saw it!” erupted from the protesting child. His mother gave the house a final, fleeting, questioning glance, but quickly they were gone.

Strauss fell back against the door with a loud sigh of exasperation.

“What sort of backwards American custom is this?”

“I forgot.” Artemis laughed a tired laugh and shook her head. “I completely forgot. It’s Halloween today.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s actually really good timing, all things considered. We got lucky there. Why did you open the door?”

“I thought if it were our hunters, I could buy you some time by taking them on myself.”

“I don’t particularly want any more people to get hurt on my behalf.”

“That’s why you let a vampire do it.”

“Strauss.” She huffed, and approached him. She stood in front of him for a moment before falling into his chest and holding onto him.

She held him, he held her, and she cried and she cried. 

[mightyflamethrower]

Concerns Mount Over Exploding Electric Vehicles

1 day ago

Guest Blogger

65 Comments

From the DAILY SCEPTIC

BY CHRIS MORRISON

Safety concerns around electric vehicles continue to mount with Australian fire and rescue services in New South Wales stating they might have to make a “tactical disengagement” of a trapped car accident victim if the battery is likely to explode. Australian journalist Jo Nova covered the story, which was first mentioned in the EV blog The Driven, and commented: “They say the first responders need more training as if this can be solved with a certificate, but the dark truth is they’re talking about training the firemen and the truck drivers to recognise when they have to abandon the rescue.”

The Driven, a widely-read blog that seems highly sympathetic to a rollout of EVs, was reporting on recent testimony given to the NSW Government’s Electric and Hybrid Vehicle Batteries Inquiry. The writer suggested that first responders did not have adequate training to deal with electric vehicle collisions, and in the most serious cases, crews could be forced to abandon rescues. One particular area of concern seemed to revolve around the need to extract a trapped casualty quickly after a crash by dragging the person out in a “very undesirable manner”. Fires are a grave risk in any vehicle accident, but they can be quickly brought under control in an internal combustion engine (ICE) vehicle.

Worries about the potential dangers inherent in EVs is likely to grow as numbers on the roads continue to rise. EV battery explosions can occur very quickly, triggering the release of highly toxic gases. When they roar into thermal overdrive, they create very high temperatures and are very difficult to extinguish. The explosion can occur after almost any collision, or be due to a fault in the initial manufacture. The fire often takes hours to control and it can reignited days after it was thought to be out. With Net Zero fanatics desperate to drive ICE cars off the road in short order, EVs are the only mass private transport solution offered. Many of the issues, including safety, that make them an inferior product compared to petrol-powered combustion cars are often ignored.

Just what can be involved in putting out a fire in an EV was dramatically detailed in a recent press release from the Wakefield Fire Dept in Massachusetts. It was called out to deal with a burning Tesla on a snowy Interstate 95, and reported:

Wakefield Engine 1 and Ladder 1 initiated suppression operations, applying copious amounts of water onto the vehicle. Multiple surrounding mutual aid communities responded as well to support firefighting operations and to create a water shuttle to bring water continually to the scene. Engines from Melrose, Stoneham, Reading, Lynnfield as well as a Middleton water tanker assisted. Firefighters had three 1¾-inch hand lines as well as a ‘blitz gun’ in operation to cool the battery compartment… Lynnfield crews established a continuous 4-inch supply line from Vernon Street up to the highway. The fire was declared under control and fully extinguished after about two and a half hours… The vehicle was removed from the scene after consulting with the Hazmat Unit… The crews did a great job, especially in the middle of storm conditions – on a busy highway.

There is little doubt that EV fires are on the rise. In the U.K., CE Safety runs Freedom of Information checks on local fire brigades and its latest survey shows an alarming rise in conflagrations. In Greater London in the 2017-2022 period, there were a reported 507 battery fires from a number of EV types, but CE Safety found a “gigantic” 219 conflagrations in 2022-23 alone. Lancashire was said to rank second with 15 EV battery fires, but this was 10 more in a single year than recorded in the five years between 2017-2022. Overall “it was concerning” to discover that the number of electric battery fires during 2022-2023 was higher in most areas than the data showed over five years from 2017 to 2022. During that year, 14 buses suffered battery fires.

There was a substantial increase in the number of e-bikes catching fire, with CE Safety noting that lithium is highly flammable and reactive. “Over-charging presents a massive risk to households with lithium-powered vehicles,” the safety organisation observed.

Concern is also rising over the transportation of EVs on car ferries. Recently, Havila Kystruten, which operates a fleet of car ferries around the coast of Norway, has banned the transportation of electric, hybrid and hydrogen vehicles. According to a report in the Maritime Executive, it is the latest step by the shipping industry, “which has become acutely aware of the increasing danger of transporting EV and other alternate fuel vessels”.

Havila’s Managing Director Bent Martini said a risk analysis had shown a fire at sea in a fossil fuel vehicle could be handled by on-board systems. “A possible fire in electric, hybrid or hydrogen cars will require external rescue efforts and could put people on board and the ships at risk,” he said. That of course is the nightmare scenario. If fire breaks out on a ferry making a 20-mile crossing in good weather, the chances of all passengers and crew surviving are good. Less good, perhaps, if fire was to break out and fill the ship with toxic smoke in the middle of a stormy November night while crossing the Bay of Biscay. Chances of survival would be diminished if the high temperatures caused nearby EVs to explode.

Mercifully, we are less and less likely to see such accidents. The list of disadvantages of EVs is lengthening by the day. Environmental concerns about the manufacture and mining of raw materials have been raised, while ‘range anxiety’ is common among drivers. EVs are more expensive than ICE cars, while knackered batteries mean that second-hand values are very poor. For those who would see the back of them, the graph below might provide some comfort.

This shows the recent decline in the share price of the American car hire giant Hertz. Back in 2021, the company pushed ahead with huge purchases of Teslas. In January it dumped 20,000 of them, and last month pushed another 10,000 onto a sagging second-hand market. Out in the real world – the world where people create wealth by providing what other people actually want – fewer drivers seemed willing to hire them. The share price tells its own sorry story. Meanwhile, EV sales across Europe tend to be driven by unsustainable tax breaks, while the cars are mainly popular with wealthy people as a second or third city runabout. An enforced political adoption of EVs is likely to destroy vast swathes of the European car industry, unable to compete with cheap Chinese imports.

If the aim is to take away personal transport for the masses, EVs are an excellent idea. Whether that will ultimately play well at the ballot box is another matter.

Chris Morrison is the Daily Sceptic’s Environment Editor.

I would not be able to sleep at night knowing I had a ticking time bomb parked in my garage.

[newyorkstate-official]

Interesting read for anyone who's heard about the removal of the I-81 bridge in Syracuse and the insanity that has come with it. It goes more in-depth than what the news has been broadcasting, which turns out the news has been neglecting to mention a whole lot of stuff about it (not all of it bad though!)

[nephyria]

To sum up the situation, since it can be confusing (with as little gross imagery as possible): The big chunky lumpy worm inside of your abdomen does important things, like keeps you hydrated, absorbs certain vitamins and minerals that you Cannot get without injections, breaks down fiber, and reduces the need to have small, frequent meals. Without it, your life becomes very difficult! Think about how often you are able to take water breaks at work; now, imagine having to eat every 30 minutes. Do you see this request being accommodated? If you do, do you imagine it happening in a well-ventilated space where it is safe to unmask?

The long little squiggly worm inside your abdomen absorbs most of your nutrients, and it does a good job. It does! But if it’s the End Worm, it’s going to hose out gross liquid more often than not, and it can be vulnerable to blockages. The long thin worm HAS gotten blocked in the past, when it was temporarily working as the End Worm, so for me it was less desirable for it to stay as the End Worm. Also, chemical burns. The little worm can give you very very bad chemical burns on the skin.

In my case, the tail of the big worm began looking like someone ran sandpaper over the inside and outside. A worm that has no mucus membrane cannot absorb water or nutrients correctly, and fiber abrades it more. It cannot hold onto its slime coat or dermal layer, so it begins shedding off their butt with all their liquids, with increasing pain and frequency. Eventually, the end of the big worm begins getting Very chafed up and swollen, but it stops looking as bad when approximated 12 inches of length from the butt. Ideally, this would mean you could remove the damaged end of the big worm, since worms are good at healing and function well once resectioned.

This is where the snag happens. For reasons doctors aren’t entirely sure about, in cases where the now-shorter big worm is not constantly medicated, the immune system says, “Hang on!!! This thing still has a butt!!! Get him!!!!” and selects the next 8 to 12 inch section of the Big Worm to sandpaper up. And so the cycle continues.

In most cases, the long squiggly wiggly worm is just chilling out. As far as it’s concerned, big worm is the neighbor who cannot get their shit together. None of their business! Until the big worm gets so inflamed that it narrows, and causes a traffic jam that extends up the worm highway. The little worm does not stretch at its little-worm-big-worm junction point very well! This is very painful for it! It’s fine, it doesn’t have sandpapering happening, but if this keeps up its sending everything on the worm interstate back where it came from, no matter what it looks like now. And this is where I’m at/getting to, except the rest of my immune system is like, “hey. [finger guns] I’m gonna turn this place into the new hottest club for whatever wants to stop by. kk love you get fucked babe!”

So essentially the process will be. The doctors will look at me. They will look at my worms. They will look back at me. “I see your big worm is bad. As we discussed,” they will say, and I will say, “Wow it’s like you’re a doctor or something. Let’s discuss the new scars I’m about to get that STILL aren’t cute or hot.” And things will go from there.

[thufir-hawhataburger]

Someone in my small town has been putting up stickers for a couple of different nazi orgs and I've made it my mission to remove them while cursing their entire bloodline every time I find them. They may not be local as we live right off a major interstate highway and I find them most often on or near gas pumps or light posts in parking lots.

Keep an eye out. Keep them from recruiting. Keep them from spreading their message. Take this platform from them too.

To anyone wondering if it's worth it to tear down fascist posters or whatever. I spent a few months last year engaged in silent battle with another student at my school who was putting anti trans stickers up everywhere. I had it down to a system where every night I would walk the five block radius they went up in, and tear down all the ones I could reach, and use a stick to put duct tape over the others. Like, within hours of the stickers going up, I would have already purged the whole zone. I knew the basic schedule of whoever put them up based on when and where the stickers appeared. I probably could have found them in person if I'd wanted to. And I told all my classmates and friends what the stickers looked like and got them to rip them down too. And after a few months of this, the stickers slowed, and then stopped forever.

My point is, a lot of this fashy or right wing stuff is one local weirdo. And if you pay attention, and do a little light organizing with your friends, you can basically make their efforts into a giant sisyphisean exercise in misery. You control your streets!

[rabbitcruiser]

National Read a Road Map Day

Take yourself back to a time before built-in-GPS and smartphones in every pocket, and feel the thrum of adventure from reading a simple, tangible road map.

“The road goes every onward”, but where does the road in fact go?  We could always ask our handy-dandy GPS, but Read A Road Map Day a day dedicated to going back before the time of such handy little devices.  Instead it heralds back to a time when it was actually possible to hold a road map upside down, or stand over the hood of your car on the side of the road with it spread out.  The map represented adventure, it represented places unseen and roads untraveled, and was the ultimate guide back to where we started.   If we could find out where we were on it.

So on this day, it’s time to bust out an old paper map, it doesn’t even have to be a recent one, and discover the wonders that these maps hold.  No one says the map you read  even has to be recent!  Ever found yourself curious about the roads that Rome was so famed for?  There are maps that exist for those, showing what ends of the earth they all travelled to.  But let’s assume you’re going to stick to a more modern map.  Now we’re going to give you a tutorial on how to read one!

The first thing you’re going to want to do is get your hands on is a map of your local area, and a Road Atlas.  This last is particularly useful, as it includes a national map plus one of each state.  You can generally find these in gas stations, bookstores, supermarkets, or if nothing else you can locate one online.   You’re going to want to get one that’s been printed within the last three or four years to make sure they’re accurate.   Nothing worse than finding out a road or highway on a map has changed names and you’re driving right by it!

The next step is an easy one, you’ll note that almost all maps, and especially the atlas, will have a grid laid out, numbered going one direction, lettered going the other.  You can use these to find the co-ordinates of your starting point, and your destination.  If you check the back of the atlas or map, you’ll find that prominent towns are listed by their coordinates on the map.  Locating and marking these with removable stickers will make finding them easier in the future, and give you a clear idea of your route.

The next step is doing just that, finding your route!  There’s usually more than one way to get from a starting point to a destination, and there’s lots of options to take along the way.  If a highway is available, those generally serve as the most direct route between two points, otherwise you’ll have to look for main roads, and side roads.   It’s always a good idea to check out all of these to find the route that suits your needs, after all, the highway is fast, but it’s not much for taking in the scenery.

The way you can tell what all of these are is by checking out the ‘legend’ or ‘key’ on the side of the map.  These lists of symbols will tell you how to identify cities, highways, interstates, country roads, unpaved roads and side roads, and manmade landmarks.  Lots of different options for the intrepid traveler.  By taking the time to look over the map and study its contents, you’ll make sure you’re never lost, even when your phone battery dies and your GPS cuts out.  All of this gained by doing just one simple thing!  Celebrating Read a Road Map Day!

Source

[ffccrxxxsss]

Removed interstates and Highways and roads and dirt roads and streets paid paid paid paid : areas cleaned paid : fcdx areas always used as fcdxgvvv paid loked always useage as fcgvhb paid loked no gvhhh never fcgvhb paid loked always dxfcgvvv placed : paid always used when gvhb them all recy all recyl : 33344455 paid no gvhbjn no fcdddee no gvhhh paid loked never gvhhhhh paid loked no fcdddee loked paid always fcgvhhhu : paid loked paid fcvgvhbhyy signed gvhbhbpais always fcgvhhhu paid loked lay in papers stay fcggg stay paid released mail papers always gvhbhhuu paid loked lay on. Paid. Loked.

[rosstmcd]

My parents told me once that back in the pre-interstate days there was a long, long stretch of highway in California that was perfectly straight, through basically featureless desert. And in the middle of this stretch there was a single tree by the side of the road. It was the only notable visual feature for miles and miles.

The state eventually had to remove the tree, because too many people were ramming their cars into it. Drivers would zone out on this road, and since the tree was the only thing to look at, some drivers would just... fixate on the tree and drive straight at it.

[almaqead]

"Better." From Surah 43, Az-Zukhruf, "The Isotrope."

We have discovered the Quran is a series of spiritual essays, each explains topical matter covered in the banner. Beneath the banner are "reminders" which were named by the Prophert Muhammad to assist mankind with certain adaptations required in a world with intersecting interstate highways of faith. We are reading but not doing as he instructed and things are not going so well.

The Surah continues:

43: 45- 52:

"Ask ˹the followers of˺ the messengers that We already sent before you if We ˹ever˺ appointed ˹other˺ gods to be worshipped besides the Most Compassionate.

Indeed, We sent Moses with Our signs to Pharaoh and his chiefs, and he said: “I am a messenger of the Lord of all worlds.”

But as soon as he came to them with Our signs, they laughed at them,

although every sign We showed them was greater than the one before.1 Ultimately, We seized them with torments so that they might return ˹to the Right Path˺.2

˹Then˺ they pleaded, “O ˹mighty˺ magician! Pray to your Lord on our behalf, by virtue of the covenant He made with you.1 We will certainly accept guidance.”

But as soon as We removed the torments from them, they broke their promise.

And Pharaoh called out to his people, boasting, “O my people! Am I not sovereign over Egypt as well as ˹all˺ these streams1 flowing at my feet? Can you not see?

Am I not better than this nobody who can hardly express himself?1"

Commentary:

God is marking His territory stating if you believe the Quran was given to Muhammad and it is a path to Right Guidance, then first of all you need to show your fellow man empathy, second you must go to his aid. All of us are exhausted and scared of global cascade failure because the police in Russia, Turkey, Iran, and Washington DC refuse to protect their people from war and tyranny. They are Pharaohs and as Allah warned, cannot be trusted and wil never ever do right by the Quran.

We have given you the signs, and verified them and I have prayed alongside you, "rid us of these thieves of time, we beg of you O Lord."

They are making fools and fodder of mankind and this cannot be allowed to continue, it violates the prohibition against mixing linen and wool together, as they are weaker together than they are apart. The reading of the Quran and its rituals must go together. To read an essay in the Quran and then ignore its meaning is slander, it is Satan.

We have read about it many times. We know corrupt politicians and innocent civilians do not mix. The police, who are our only hope, must do their jobs and arrest these men for breaking the law and trust with God. This is the only the wars will stop and things will get better.

The Ukrainians are becoming more heavily armed every day, they are going to maul those Russian conscripts inside their territory and out. Without American guarantees to curb the violence, they will all die. This is not the answer to the world's problems. Those soldiers must be set free. If we show them compassion now and let them go home, they will never forget, and the world will change. If they continue to fight, it will stay the same. Human rights, not mineral rights, these are the linen and the wool we need to separate and then challenge the Kremlin for the lives of its people and those they threaten.