#solar suburbia

[heres-to-all-that-is-mine]

Making little character reference images!

[s2z]

Airport West, Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. 2022-10-25 10:55:16 by stuart murdoch

[charliemwrites]

There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Next

Masterlist

[solhaelan]

Here's my (probably only, sadly) post for Solarpunk Aesthetic Week! Originally made for Andrewism's 2023 Solarpunk Art Collab!

This digital painting depicts the Southern Great Lakes Ecoregion, within the Interior Plateau & Southern Great Lakes Forests Bioregion, within the Temperate Broadleaf and Mixed Forest Biome.

I chose a suburban setting for this piece because I've not yet seen a Solarpunk artwork that features this. I'm aware of the problems with the suburbs, but it seems to me more sustainable to try to adapt them than to demolish them and start over. So instead of lawns I've depicted beds of native Indiana plants, including but not limited to:

Amsonia Tabernaemontana (Eastern Bluestar)

Spartina Pectinata (Prairie Cordgrass)

Echinacea Purpurea (Purple  Coneflower.

The roofs of the houses are either white to help reflect heat, or green roofs. Some of the houses are equipped with solar panels on the south sides, and one is shown with a greenhouse on that side as well.

While perhaps not explicitly ecologically focused, I have shown there to be more art in this setting than is usually found in american suburbia. The sidewalk has a mural painted with hydrochromic paint, which only appears while it is raining. The houses are painted bright colors (white or greige is  considered  'Normal' ) and are occasionally decorated with murals.

This particular area is among the cloudiest in the so-called U.S.A. To reflect that, the weather is overcast and it is currently raining.

Hope y'all enjoy this, and Happy Solarpunk Aesthetic Week!

[probably-nothing-maybe]

Reblog with the craziest will wood quotes here

Mine below

Quotes:

“I gaze into the void and beneath the black I only see more black and beneath me it sees the same and I die. Glockenspiel.”

“America. America. America. America.”

“Are you on acid?” “ No, not right now”

Lyrics:

“Cry like a baby with autism strapped to a ceiling fan” thermodynamic lawyer

“I’m not a flower, not a solar powered calculator” dr sunshine is dead

“He cums radiation” (obviously). From suburbia overture

This one isn’t crazy but I still love it: “And my sponsor said do nothing; nothing works. And my doctor said don’t do that if it hurts.” Cicada days

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Jaune: Nanotube engineering leading to orbital manufacture, leading to the creation of the dandelion seeds. Hollowed out asteroids repurposed as intergenerational star craft. Home to potentially hundreds of thousands of people if willing to make the journey. To unlearn grass and sky in favor of where next and why. Now look to that half century when in a flurry of tentative hope we gouge and renovate those old dead God eggs so that they may beget twenty generations yet. And with the sky parked with them then, four hundred and all, we know this will be the last time we find ourselves occupying a single world. And they set off, millions of farmer astronauts flung out into the wilds of gravitation and light miles, brains of meat and metal now return to wheat and petals now. Centrifugal suburbia and tea around the kettle now. Human pollen blown on the solar winds while back on the mother planet we wait and we wait. As a bird how does one live best with an empty nest?

[lucasstarkid]

A while ago I was going to make one of these intro/aesthetic type of posts for Nuketown and I’ve had it sitting in my drafts for so long that I forgot all about it while working on the actual book!😂

TITLE: Nuketown

GENRE: Science Fiction (Space Opera, Atompunk)

SETTING: A futuristic, spacefaring version of The Cold War and the 1950s from the seemingly peaceful suburbia of Atom Valley to the war-torn battlefield of Jupiter’s moon Io.

INSPIRATIONS: Watchmen, The Outsiders

STORY: The United Earth Federation is in a not-so-silent war of attrition with the Republic of Martian Colonies, having brewed since the Second System War. But when an assassination attempt on Earth President Dexter Oppenheimer is thwarted by a group of youths led by Robinson Curry, a dangerous chain of events is set in motion that could spell the end of all life in the Solar System, whether from mutually assured destruction at the hand of nuclear armaments, or something even darker and deadlier.

STATUS CHECK: Published and available to buy on Amazon!

THE CHARACTERS:

Robinson Curry

A sensitive youngster, being raised by Smith and Kate Curry, alongside his headstrong sister, Marie. Together with Marie and their tinkerer best friend Kennedy Hudson, they intercept an assassination attempt on the Earth President, and end up hunted for their trouble. Through his journey on the run, his trio is taken into a pack of greasers, where he must learn to fight like he’s never fought before to survive.

Dr. Jones

A mad scientist under employment of the C.I.A., sent clean up the mess when the Earth President is attacked. Whimsically sadistic and criminally cruel, he will stop at nothing to preserve Earth’s political power.

Gossamer Jones

Dr. Jones’ supersoldier creation, with the strength of ten men, and the heart of a lamb. While out on their mission, Gossamer secretly seeks to break free from his father’s grip, and end the suffering he has been ordered to cause. 

Dexter Oppenheimer

The President of the United Earth Federation, with his V.P. Ford Hammond at his side. From the war with Mars, to the attempt on his life, President Oppenheimer is caught in a wicked weave of political trickery that threatens the lives of Earth’s citizens.

[daemonduality]

Seems like our connection to Tumblr is dependent on how far away we are from Gotham City. Neither my employer's girlfriend and I could access the multiverse while out in California.

What's terrible is that one would think that Gotham City would be more chaotic during these turbulent times, but it's really just the opposite. Probably because Gotham deals with turbulent times on a semi-weekly basis depending on whatever supervillain wishes to cause trouble.

There's fighting and rioting everywhere. Had to scry out a safe path when it seemed like the suburbia around San Francisco had rioting everywhere including attacking any vehicle that looked like it screamed money which included tinted windows. The city proper is okay, mostly because of the military presence currently there.

I keep telling my employer's girlfriend we should fly, but I think she's a bit acrophobic. We drove from East to West by RV, though her excuse was that she's looking for good spots to build rest areas and solar power plants through her government contract.

But hello. I'll be around again. Cooking, I guess.

[3ammicrosleeps]

Also the "acs and portable acs makes things worse actually-" you know what makes things a lot worse for me? Dying. And you know what damn portable ac unit we've been keeping in our collective houses for years and just deal with? Our God damn fridges. Those fuckers pump out heat at the back, same with water coolers. They're heat pump units that take the heat from one source (the stuff we consume) and throw it somewhere else (the rest of our goddamn house). And yet. We have figured out that banning fridges would be bad, actually.

So how the fuck do we stay cool while also making as few heat islands as possible? Well first, stop trying to throw fucking swamp coolers at everything. A more humid environment is NOT going to help. In addition, as things get more humid the evaporative cooling method gives diminishing returns until it's useless. Second, it's about timing. Checking when the cooler parts of the 24 hour cycle are and then making sure as much of that air gets inside your home, and closing shit up so there's just enough airflow after not to bake, is key... but that also depends on you living on a safe enough area to do that because. That tends to be night. Not everyone lives far enough up or in a place where they can rawdog that air.

I mean. If that air is even safe at the moment.

Third are longterm solutions. We need to really look into how we handle our cooling and "waste heat". Like. Take a look at the ground, you know that good old Terra firma? Go down deep enough and the Temps stay the same, year round. Play like you're watercooling your pc but it's your home or apartment and you have what's called a ground source heat pump. They are expensive, and over time they fluctuate the ground temp by a few degrees, but the earth is such a MASSIVE heat sink that it dissipates the heat steadily and SLOWLY, which is what you want. That means is costs less in energy to bring Temps up or down to where you need them. That means less strained grid. Ideally it means low or no heat and emissions thrown into the air. You can connect up multiple loops to this method. You could connect up an entire city with this method. You could have the "waste heat" go not into the ground but instead into water boilers and public pools and communal greenhouses. You can slap solar panels to this so that the power grid gets a boost and the waste heat from the panels is cycled into your or your city's hot water tanks. Do you know how much heat it takes to raise the temperature of a pool by even a degree? If we're talking a single person suburbia setup it'll virtually never happen, if we're talking a city that load can be spread throughout the whole slew of resources that actually want that heat.

This is before we talk about the tech that just uses reflective technology to just shoot heat right the fuck up into *space* and can be used to cool a cart by 10 degrees (f) underneath the material. Or building the places we live and work so that they work with the landscape and thermodynamics instead of fight against it.

But to get to those larger solutions we have to survive in the first place. So. I'm just gonna keep blasting this ac in the one room of the house that has it, and fan relay it to the rest, until this damn heat wave ends.

See also, "We're in a drought; conserve water!" Meanwhile, bottled water companies and golf courses for rich folk empty the aquifers.

[heres-to-all-that-is-mine]

Smug prick rendered in different art style! <3

[diffusedcreations]

Solar Suburbia: A Green Community Haven An idyllic suburban neighborhood on a bright summer day. The scene features charming two-story houses with brick facades and large windows. Solar panels are visible on some rooftops. The houses are closely spaced, with green trees and shrubs filling the spaces between them. A paved alleyway runs between the houses, lined with green recycling bins and black trash bins. Several parked cars are scattered along the sides. The sky is a vibrant blue with fluffy clouds, casting soft shadows on the ground. Sunlight highlights the green trees and creates a warm, inviting atmosphere. The overall scene feels peaceful, clean, and community-centered.

[dallasareaopinion]

Something even I forget, and Happy Thanksgiving

So the better half and I had to go out of town to take care of some family business and on the way back we decided to take the scenic route. We had a wonderful 2/3 of a trip. The last third it began to drizzle so it took some of the luster off the whole trip, however the first part was all sunshine and blue sky.

You forget how beautiful this country is when you take the interstates all the time. I was thinking as we were driving that everyone in D.C. needs to get off their back ends and go see America. It might remind them of the people they should be representing. I know it is too late for road trips back home for Thanksgiving for all our Representatives and their staffs, but sometime soon they need to make it a priority.

They might see parts of the country that make up our agriculture, the solar power plants, the wind farms the oil pumps, and even the road work on the two lane highways. Yes we drove mostly through Texas and all of the above was almost side by side as we drove. You pass a field of cotton, then cattle grazing, a solar field, some oil pumps still going and it was quite an eye opening experience. And all of it with the horizon stretching forever. And this was especially nice with the sun shining.

You pass through many small towns and see the old businesses boarded up and the new chains taking over and wonder what could be done to revitalize local economies. Towns where main street is thriving, but the periphery is old boarded up hotels and restaurants, yet the fast food chains and chain hotels thrive. You see buildings of unknown businesses falling apart. At one time each of the towns had their own economy, yet either through various recessions or changes in the local economy it has slowly disappeared to be replaced by the various corporate entities that populate suburbia. These towns are losing their character. These are the descendants of the people that made this country great and yet they are the visible signs of the wealth gap in this country. People that use to own local businesses have children that make minimum wage in the corporate world.

And you know their educational opportunities are slowly disintegrating as the town loses its economic base. Those corporations are not reinvesting in local infrastructure. All those profits are going back to Wall Street. Schools in these towns are ignored in state capitals and then you read about the school voucher system in Texas and wonder what it all means for the children of farmers and the energy laborers. Will they be able to have the wherewithal to rebuild their towns? If the family is struggling, if the opportunities are working for out of state profiteers, if the schools are rotting, what does this mean for the future of what use to be the backbone of this country. Yes I am being somewhat idyllic, however we need the caregivers of our open spaces and producers of what we eat given the opportunity to thrive. If we let the corporations run everything, they will run everything into the ground then move on. If profit is our country’s only goal then when the well run dries what happens next? Death, depletion, desertion, despair for large portions of our country do not make for greatness.

And if you stop and do grab a bite to eat, or get gas you find they are the same wonderful people you might want them to be. They are friendly, cheerful on the outside, but when it is slow in the convenience store you can see in their eyes the fatality of having no future. The children still behave as children, laughing, talking running in and out, yet you worry what happens when they turn 18. What do they do next? I think it was fortunate that not too many Wal marts dotted the landscape, yet they were there slowly sapping the money out of the town to make billionaires even richer while the worker bees struggle to pay for housing and food. A few do well, especially the people who owned land and were able to hold onto it. They had the oil boom, now it is windfarms, but they are the minority. They lease the land and take in their royalties, but their money is spent either at the chain restaurant or they go out of town to buy what they need such as brand new trucks or other luxuries that they alone can afford. The car dealerships are scarce, the repair shops are non existent, an occasional real estate company has a sign, there are no farmer markets, no grocery stores, just the Dollar General, where the market isn’t big enough for a Wal Mart, which is an overpriced substitute for basic necessities.

Yes, it is Texas but the price of gas in these towns is much higher than the truck stops on the interstate. And honestly some of this is because the markets are not big enough to support large businesses, but that same small market at one point had an economy and people thrived, hair was cut or styled by local people, furniture was bought or was available in one town for a few, sundries existed so people could do their sewing or craft work that was actually needed and wasn’t just some hobby for people at church.

So what can be done to bring back strong local economies, give people an opportunity to thrive again, and why does Washington ignore so many of our own?

The drive is beautiful, the scenery breathtaking, the rounding of a bend to see more and more, the cattle eating lazily near the fences by the side of the road, a horse galloping by, the field full of cotton or other deep green crop, (couldn’t tell what it was, but there were quite a few fields of this really deep green, and it wasn’t too tall either) fills the land between the towns. And yet the towns are losing their luster, their hometown feel, their people so what becomes of not a nostalgic era, but of the livelihoods of so many who choose not to live in a big city. Does Washington think they do not matter?

Yes it would be a fantasy to believe that all of a sudden thousands of pretentious lawmakers take it upon themselves to do a bit of fact finding on the future of large swaths of our country. Unfortunately it is necessary. Instead though they take the lobbyists money and campaign donations to stay in power. Their stench stays in Washington to appease Wall Street and a few others, but what would make the country great again rots away with a different kind of stench. The stench of economic decay. And at some point it will be too late and the greed of the uber wealthy will not be able to sustain any economy as it sucks dry the people it has built its wealth upon.

These small towns are the first to go. They have survived hard times before, yet as corporate greed takes over their economies the well will run dry and many beautiful locales will be like the withering structures of a bygone era that now appear on the roads in and out of town. Main street still has some continuity going, but if you actually drive the speed limit through town it is way too easy to see the dye cast for their lack of future.

So as you enjoy your Thanksgiving dinner and even though this is bleak I do hope I haven’t ruined it. I just want to remind you that we still can be a thankful nation, but it takes action and understanding. Why give up on something that was so integral to our country’s growth? We should be thankful for what we have, have had and what we can have, and not lose sight of the whole of our country and what everyone brings to the table.

Cheers

[wingzoffeather]

Also digital purchases are great until: - you can no-longer afford the subscription.

The way capitalism only functions with constant profit growth means that flat-rate & relatively cheap subscriptions are increasingly unsustainable (in the view of the media mega-corps, anyway)

- you can't afford a decent internet connection

I grew up in rural Canada and decent internet connections that can support streaming are STILL very much not consistently cost-accessible to people who live outside of suburbia without at least upper middle class income

-there's a political uptick in media censorship

-a strong solar flare event that can take out the satellites, wireless signals, and electrical infrastructure that we depend on for the modern internet.

Physical data storage is crucial for potential longer-term outages. The Carrington event took out most of the few telegram signals in existence for a couple days in the 1800s. It can happen again & NASA does predict it will.

When I found out Paramount+ was removing Star Trek: Prodigy I bought all 20 episodes of S1 from Amazon Video since that was the only way for me to watch all 20 at the time. On 6/27, I lost access to episodes 10-20. Amazon has done what they can, which isn't much.

All 20 were accessible when I paid for all 20. The full season is what I was buying. Now, I only have access to 9 of the episodes.

What is the point of buying digital content if they're just going to steal it back from you afterwards?! Is this not false advertisement?

Seems appropriate

[reiasindia1]

Emerald Floors Sector 65 Gurgaon | Reais India

Emerald floors have become a popular and alluring trend in the real estate industry, drawing in both investors and purchasers. These superb living areas provide a distinctive fusion of luxury, beauty, and functionality, making them a desirable option in the current home market. In this thorough study, we'll delve into Emerald Floors' many facets and examine why they have recently gained popularity in the real estate industry.

Exclusive Way of Life:

Emerald Floors are considered to be luxurious and exclusive. We provide homeowners with an unrivaled living experience highlighted by airy design, cutting-edge amenities, and exceptional craftsmanship.

As low-rise or mid-rise structures, these houses frequently offer a sense of privacy and seclusion in the middle of urban environments.

Common features include private gardens, terraces, and balconies that let homeowners take advantage of the outdoors in their own private space. 

Greenery and Serenity:

Emerald Floors itself alludes to a close relationship with nature. These homes are generally surrounded by lush vegetation, which creates a calm and pleasant atmosphere.

A healthier and more laid-back lifestyle is promoted by Emerald Floors' landscaped gardens, parks, and jogging trails.

This trend is in line with the increased understanding of the value of green spaces in urban environments.

Customization:

The level of personalization Emerald Floors provides is one of its main draws. People who buy homes frequently have the opportunity to customize their living areas to suit their interests.

Residents can design a home that reflects their distinct style and likes, from picking out the interior decor to picking out the kind of flooring and fittings.

Privacy and Security:

Security is a top priority in these gated communities, ensuring that residents feel safe and protected at all times.

Many Emerald Floors complexes employ modern security systems, including CCTV surveillance, access control, and manned security personnel. 

The concept of a gated community fosters a sense of community and togetherness among residents.

Investment Potential:

Emerald Floors' potential for long-term value growth is one of the reasons why investors are becoming more and more interested in them.

When it comes to real estate investments, these properties frequently fetch high prices, making them a desirable choice.

The increasing demand for such upscale living quarters also adds to their desirability as an investment. 

Sustainability and Energy Efficiency: 

Numerous Emerald Floors designs include environmentally friendly elements like solar panels, energy-saving appliances, and rainwater collection systems.

This is consistent with the increased focus on sustainability and energy efficiency in contemporary construction.

Multiple Locations:

Emerald Floors can be found in many different places and serves a variety of tastes.

Some are tucked away in peaceful suburbia, while others are placed in prime spots near bustling cities, providing the best of both worlds.

Where people choose to live frequently relies on whether they value serenity and peace or convenient access to facilities and entertainment.

Neighborhood Living:

Emerald Floors fosters a strong sense of community among residents through common facilities such as clubhouses, swimming pools, and sports courts.

Social gatherings, events, and recreational activities are commonly organized, promoting a vibrant and interconnected community.

High-Quality Building:

The builders behind Emerald Floors projects put a high priority on fine craftsmanship and high-end supplies to make sure that these houses withstand the test of time.

From the architecture to the finishing touches, these properties exhibit meticulous attention to detail and craftsmanship.

[thejaymo]

[nomadman108]

Give Thanks to Brother Sun and Brother Wind #AUSTRALIA #travel #newsouthwalesaustralia #country #town #rural #countrytown #brokenhill #farwestproud #desert #suburban #suburbia #suburbs #akindofsuburbia #kindsofsuburbia #solar #power #windpower #solarpanels #colourphotography #colorphotography #park #publicpark #trees #renewables #renewableenergy #environment #naturalenvironment #symbiosis (at Broken Hill, New South Wales) https://www.instagram.com/p/CfTBdhIPnI7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=