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@foolishowl Excess caffeine.

Excess.

Caffeine.

Like ... caffeine, but *too much*?

I'm not sure I understand.

All too often, when I finally do learn what happened to them, it's permanent. I know this will only get worse as the years go by.

Okay, 's is as embarrassing as everything else about him. But we're rapidly reaching the point where it doesn't matter, and may be there already. *Most* people under a certain age have lives which are thoroughly documented , and when they run for office, other voters their age just aren't going to care. Vance is the first to run for national office, but he won't be the last. What we old folks think about it will become less relevant with every passing year.

washingtonpost.com/technology/

So you're hanging out in your rock, doing the same thing for a couple billion years, and these busybody multicellular organisms come and break your rock open and dump a bunch of fluorescent dye on you just so they can take pictures to show their friends? RUDE!

Seriously, this is nifty.

popsci.com/environment/oldest-

Today I saw my name in print for the first time in twenty years.

Oh sure, I've been in various journals since then. A couple of first-author papers, about a dozen others with my name buried somewhere in the author list.

But I honestly don't recall seeing any of those issues in physical form, even for those which publish paper copies at all. In any case, is such a different kind of writing that it hardly seems like it should go by the same name.

This is a . A *book*, with my name (among those) on the cover. To paraphrase Damon Knight, what I point at when I say "writing." I don't quite have words for how that feels. Which I guess is kind of a strange thing for a writer to say.

A . Yeah. That's me. Cool.

In case you were wondering, because of course you were: amazon.com/SF-Horror-Boundary-

Large portions of this country have gone completely insane. We knew that already, but here's further proof, as if any were needed:

washingtonpost.com/weather/202

This particular flavor of madness has been metastasizing for almost exactly a decade, since the standoff. That was the point where the loons found out they could the with armed force and get away with it. And from there to to 1/6, we've been treating with suicidal gentleness.

We made the same mistake after , but it was at least understandable. Almost everyone was sick of killing. Now, after a century and a half of seeing the legacy of that misguided mercy, we have no excuse.

If these exist, we should hunt them down like the rabid dogs they are, and deal with them accordingly. Whether they do or not, those calling for their existence are suborning : *that* would be an appropriate use for "seditious conspiracy," as opposed to the charges of that should be levied against the 1/6ers.

But we won't. And when the Republic falls, it will be because we refuse to face up to this cancer on the body politic. Unpleasant but survivable treatment now, or slow agonizing death later. Those are our only choices. So far I'm not optimistic about which option we'll take.

theorists are rapidly moving up my not-so-little list. are still at the top, of course. But these clowns are in a solid second place.

"What do have to say about the millions of blacks leaving the Democrat party this year?"

"Мы говорим, что вам нужно придумать лучшую пропаганду, или вы можете обнаружить себя с тяжелым случаем рака окна или отравлением чаем. Царь Владимир ждет результатов."

I've made this post before.

When someone is telling you about an unpleasant confrontation—an encounter with a hostile stranger, an argument with a friend or family member, contemptuous treatment by their boss, rude and uncaring customer (dis)service, whatever—there are several acceptable responses.

"That's terrible, and I hope it doesn't happen again." "Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help?" Even a simple "I'm sorry." These are all fine things to say, as long as they're sincere.

Unless they are specifically asking for advice, it is *never* advisable to say, "Well, what *I* would have done is ..." Just don't. The instant you feel those words start to form in your mouth or on your keyboard, stop. It is better to stay silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt.

First of all, you're not them. What you would have done is completely irrelevant. They may not want to do what you'd have done, they may not be able to do what you'd have done, or they may believe that what you (say you) would have done would only make the situation worse.

Second, it's really easy to be a chest-thumper or a keyboard warrior. "What I would have done" in your imagination might be exactly what you'd have done in that moment—but let's face it, probably not.

I spend more time than I probably should thinking about what I *wish* I'd done in a lot of situations (some confrontational, some not) and I know I just wasn't witty or brave or quick-thinking enough to do it. If I can't live up to my own standards, I sure as hell don't get to impose those standards on other people.

Third, ask yourself honestly if "what I would have done" has ever helped *you*. I guarantee someone's said it to you, probably more than once. Did it make you feel better? Give you a useful strategy the next time something like that occurred? Strike you as clever or wise? I bet I know the answer.

BTW, yesterday someone made a credible threat to kill me. What I'd have done if I'd had time to think about it was ... exactly what I did: drive away. Fortunately I had that option. What anyone else would have done, I really don't want to hear.

@bedirthan Yeah, it's the precise layout that made me think of a dungeon on graph paper.

Helping a friend at a the other day, I had a revelation: indoor storage units are dungeons, in the sense. Long straight , all at right angles, neat units of distance, and full of to either side.

Which makes me think it would be a lot of fun to run a game in a far-post-apocalyptic- setting, preferably without the players knowing at first that's what it is, where they are exploring a which turns out to be a buried building. The niches all have cryptic symbols above them they can't decipher, but which appear to be some kind of numbering system. When they pick or break the ancient locks, they find some niches have ancient treasures, while others contain incomprehensible , and still others are full of plain junk.

The main danger on the upper levels comes not from , but from precariously piled heaps that fall down as the doors are opened. The players, of course, will perceive these as .

A dungeon needs *some* monsters. Here they're more numerous on the lower levels, in the form of employees. The players will eventually discover that they venture forth from a chamber on the bottom level, known in the ancient tales as the "Manager's Office." The itself is the final boss fight.

Upon defeating the Manager and venturing out the door, they find that the lower levels of the building are surrounded by a vast , with an oddly flat floor and the ruins of a huge sign. The party sage puzzles out the ancient writing: PUBLIC STORAGE.

... I guess outdoor units are ruins, but anyone DMing that game needs to figure out how they've lasted that long. A is a chillingly believable explanation.

Well, this is mildly terrifying.

Let's be careful out there.

Brad Mitchell  
September 12, 2024- “Patients With Long-COVID Show Abnormal Lung Perfusion (*aka blood supply, likely the cause of shortness of breath) Despite Nor...
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