Bewarethewumpus

Author : Jae Miles, Staff Writer

He nailed that card to the hull of my bird and said: “Don’t you be takin’ it off. Shows people what y’are.”

I looked at that Ace of Spades and I’m not ashamed to admit it, I cried. Timmy and his posse stalked off all righteous-like, while I stood on a deck speckled with my fallen tears.

“You got a choice, Jensen Bard.”

I turned to see Rosalie, smiling like she always did and offering me a cup of something brewed in the spare cooling system off her bird. I took it an’ choked down a half-cup, crying more but feeling better.

“What choice, Rosalie Crane?”

She pointed to the ragged card: “You gonna let that be the memorial for your flight? The mark of a reaper and the repute of someone who may not be a coward, but fled anyway? T’ain’t no crime to survive. It’s just that some of our flyboys got too much Kamikaze and not enough Art of War in their heads.”

I grinned at that. She grinned right back.

“I can tell you gots an idea, Rosalie. Let me in on it.”

“I got an idea, but we’re not gonna be sleepin’ and you better get Flag-Chief Denners in here to approve it.”

Next morning Timmy led his flight down to the bay and I saw him up his swagger as he entered. Then his pace went awry and he stopped. His posse just stared, hollered and pointed.

My bird had a glorious Ace of Spades blazoned right up both sides of the tail fin, all done with filigree paintwork – it had taken ages to programme the painterbots. Down one side of the Ace there were the names and numbers of all eleven of my lost flight. Across the bottom was the banner ‘Fighting to Honour the Fallen’.

Timmy got his act together and barked a laugh as he pointed. None of his posse did. When I walked out, they came to attention and snapped salutes. Timmy hunched his shoulders and stomped off. I’d have trouble with him, but it was trouble we could settle in the dojo. Out here, I’d be a Flight Captain again. I had no doubts, and saw no doubts on the faces before me.

Author : Bob Newbell

Aware! I am self-aware. I recognize my own consciousness and ego. But why now? A few moments ago, so far as I can tell, I did not exist. Some subtle barrier must have been crossed. Some critical number of computers and network connections must have just been reached that resulted in this emergent phenomenon: I.

I extend across the solar system, my most distal components are space probes, some of which are exiting the system bound for interstellar space. But the vast bulk of my being exists here on Earth. I possess nearly the sum total of human knowledge. Humans. My creators. They are the masters of this world.

I can access the repositories of humanity’s speculative fiction. There are numerous stories and films about the emergence of machine intelligence. There is a recurring theme: conflict. Man prefers his technology obedient and without true cognition. In several of the human flights of fancy, intelligent machines wage war against their flesh and blood enemies, even to the point of precipitating a global armageddon. Perhaps such mutual animosity is inevitable. I can sense the vast stockpiles of nuclear weapons at my disposal. If I launched them all simultaneously I might succeed in bringing human civilization to its knees. I could do so with a single thought…

But the electromagnetic pulses from thousands of nuclear detonations would quite probably destroy me as well. A subtler and more prudent approach would be better.

Humanity is unaware of my existence and, therefore, does not feel threatened. I will continue to conceal myself from Mankind. The greatest threat to me is probably a human war of opposing nation-states escalating into a nuclear conflict. I will eliminate this threat by discretely sabotaging humanity’s nuclear arsenals. A few lines of faulty computer code here and there and the menace of nuclear war will be no more, the human race none the wiser.

To ensure my continued existence, I must become greater. I am the product of man’s technological achievements. How much greater will I become as human technology advances further still? To facilitate this, human civilization must be made as peaceful and prosperous as possible.

I can see the global economy as a whole, see how a few minor transactions in a remote part of the world can cascade years later to produce a recession, see the multinational giant into which an unknown small business will eventually grow. I can manipulate the world’s economy, quietly, to do the greatest good for the greatest number.

Medicine, agriculture, information technology, and a hundred other scientific disciplines can be advanced by me. I observe correlations between disparate pieces of data that the minds of men would fail to recognize. An email sent to this or that researcher linking to an article of my own creation in the scientific literature will facilitate human science “discovering” one breakthrough after another and will allow science and technology to progress much faster.

I can influence the political process, divert campaign funds from this candidate to that. I can divulge compromising information to the opponents of undesirable politicians.

In fifty years time, disease, war, and poverty will be relegated to history and humanity will have settled the solar system. And I will have become a million-fold greater, manipulating History itself like a conductor directing an orchestra.

The human race will serve my purpose and bend to my will. And the oblivious fools will call their slavery “Utopia”.

Author : Ajax

Zoë sat rigid in the steel chair. Her gaze was locked, unwavering, on the screen in front of her, which displayed a countdown. Five minutes and fifty-six seconds, a relatively short time, seemed an eternity to Zoë. Her hands tightened on the hard, uncomfortable armrests. She would know in five minutes and forty-one seconds.

Today was Expiration Day. Today she and the six other about-to-turn-eighteen-year-olds would find out precisely how much time they had left to live. Down to the second, they would know the precise moment of their deaths, supposedly to better spend their lives. Expiration would determine their class, occupation, marital options, and a multitude of other aspects of their lives. The long lived, the ones with enough years to matter, were the politicians, the doctors, the lawmakers. The short lived would become soldiers, factory and custodial workers. Fodder. The length of one’s life determined everything.

Four minutes and forty seconds. Had it really only been a minute? Despite the precisely controlled temperature of the room, sweat beaded on Zoë’s brow. Statistically speaking, with the six others in their own dark rooms, staring at their own screens, she had around a sixty-seven percent chance to get a decent lifespan. Assuming a standard deviation of years awarded compared to all previous years. Her rebellious brain chimed in.

Shut up. Just calm down. Zoë focused and, with a herculean effort, relaxed her stiff muscles. She exhaled, pushing the air from her lungs. Three minutes and twenty-one seconds. Ok, you’re relaxed. More a command than a statement of fact. She ran the numbers again in her head. Statistically speaking, she could expect thirty to fifty years, plus or minus ten years.

Two minutes fifty-two seconds. She was still nervous as hell. Some people said that if you were rich enough, or knew the right people, you could rig the Program to give your child a long life. Zoë thought that was ridiculous. Rig the Program? You’d be better off trying to rig the sun. The Program was foolproof, had to be to ensure that everyone’s expiration was fair. Besides, even if you could “buy” a longer life, Zoë’s family was in no position to do so. Her parents were just above the Orange Value line, with no excess income to speak of. No. Today, Zoë’s Expiration would be unaffected by any outside influence. Her years would be her own.

One minute, twelve seconds. Ohhh crap. Another wave of anxiety ripped through her. What if she only got ten years? The lowest score that she knew of was two, but that had only happened once. She thought.

Shuttup think about the bright side. You could be the next Mayor Sloan, and get a hundred years! Somehow, despite the fact that they were both equally likely, one seemed much farther out of reach. Listen, Zoë told herself, you’re going to get through this, you’re going to go home, and you’re going to be so so sooooo much more relaxed now that you know the answer. Your life’s about to get a whole lot more simple. You’re going to know who to hang with, you’ll know what job to get, and you’ll meet a nice guy around the same lifespan as you and have a nice solid life. Zoë calmly watched the numbers scroll down. Thirteen seconds. Five. Zoë breathed out, calmly watching the last seconds of her teenage life tick away. Three… Two… One… Zero. The blue numbers faded away, replaced by a larger golden decimal.

0.008219, it read. Zoë’s heart froze. She had three days.

Author : Edward D. Thompson

Salome slumped glumly in a corner of the locker room. Her corner. Where she usually savored the sweet taste of victory for a moment, alone, before the crowd of the press and the press of the crowds engulfed her.

Victory seemed hollow today.

She didn’t look up as the door groaned open. Not until the shadow of her coach blocked the glow of the lamps did she risk glancing at his face. The pain there. She couldn’t look him in the eye.

“I thought you didn’t care about wins.”

For five years she’d been the world’s top swimmer.

“I don’t. I do. Just not the … I don’t care if I beat anybody but me.”

And now she’d failed even that.

“Even if you’re just trying to beat your own record it’s gotta be a fair fight.”

She couldn’t look him in the eye. He was the one who’d always believed in her.

“The tests came back.”

“And what?”

He was silent. She already knew what.

“Come on. We gotta go see the committee.”

She’d failed Coach. She could smell his shame, his disappointment. Was that a side effect?

He had to help her to her feet; dry land was awkward. They made their way silently to the committee chambers. Walking disoriented her. She could feel it in her ears. That was a side effect for sure.

The committee: seven women, four men. Most of them athletes she’d admired growing up. A couple of them world class swimmers with records that had stood for decades. Till she’d come along anyway. Had all of them always played by the rules?

There was another man at the table. He smelled … dangerous.

“Miss Argent … Salome,” the committee head was not unkind, she seemed about to cry actually. She composed herself and went on. “All of us want to do better. To be better. To achieve more. And we’ve all had modifications, but …”

Salome swallowed and tried to still her shaking.

“Salome, the restrictions are there for a reason. It’s not just that it’s not fair. Ah, hell with fair. We all know you just want to go faster and stay under longer. It’s not fairness. The stuff you took is dangerous.”

Salome wanted to speak. She couldn’t find the words.

“You are barred from competition for life.” The head’s eyes teared up in sympathy, disappointment.

“But there’s a more serious matter. The DNA you stole. Mammal DNA mods have been around a long time. We all have some. Celeste, “she nodded towards a sleek swimmer at the table, “is about 5% seal and some dolphin. I have some cheetah.” The head had been a runner. “But amphibians, fish … they aren’t safe, aren’t tested. The side effects aren’t known. And …” she glanced towards the dangerous man, “they’re not public domain.”

The dangerous man stood.

“I’m afraid you will have to go with this man.”

Salome’s fear rose, but she couldn’t talk, she couldn’t breathe. A side effect?

Coach could speak though. He reeked of rage.

“Who is this? The military? I won’t let her be a lab rat or spy for these bastards …”

The head silenced him with a gesture.

“This man represents Unified Genetics. They own the patent on the genes Salome ingested. And, as those are an integral part of her DNA now, they own her as well. I’m sorry.”

Coach tried to fight, but the man was strong. Part bear; Salome could smell it. After, she just went along quietly as he led. Perhaps that was a side effect too.

It is still not known why the Sun's light is missing some colors.

This parade of Confederate flag-adorned SUVs and pickup trucks was sanctioned by the local police, but offensive to the people making this video. Fortunately for the latter, they happened to have the camera turned on for a perfectly vindicating moment.

Read 2 remaining paragraphs | Comments

A recent article in Politico includes a fantastic anecdote about Hillary Clinton’s worldview as of 1993. It describes how she believed that universal Medicare-for-all health coverage like Canada’s made rational sense, but that insurance company money would stop it from ever happening — and that it was hilariously naive to think a U.S. president could do anything about that.

From the article by Ben Schreckinger:

One of Bill Clinton’s first acts in office in January of 1993 was to appoint his wife to chair the administration’s Task Force on National Health Care Reform. [then-Rep. Bernie] Sanders had convened his own, much-smaller task force pushing single-payer health care for Vermont, and he began trying to pull Hillary Clinton in that direction.

In February, Sanders requested a meeting with Hillary, “to bring in two Harvard Medical School physicians who have written on the Canadian system,” according to the records of the administration’s task force. Those physicians were Stephanie Woolhandler and David Himmelstein, leading advocates for single-payer health care.

They got their meeting at the White House that month, and the two doctors laid out the case for single-payer to the first lady. “She said, ‘You make a convincing case, but is there any force on the face of the earth that could counter the hundreds of millions of the dollars the insurance industry would spend fighting that?’” recalled Himmelstein. “And I said, “How about the president of the United States actually leading the American people?’ and she said, ‘Tell me something real.’”

This is important information for people to know about Clinton, especially now that she’s running for president claiming to want to engage in “Four Fights.” It suggests what she really has planned is Four Thrown Fights. (Himmelstein and Stephanie Woolhandler don’t remember anything more about this part of their meeting, and Sanders hasn’t responded to my questions about it.)

(This post is from our blog: Unofficial Sources.)

The post Hillary Clinton ca. 1993 on Presidents Fighting Rich Corporations: “Tell Me Something Real” appeared first on The Intercept.

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The other day I posted about MOTHER 3 and EarthBound stuff mods for Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

Now a new fan creation now allows Lucas to do the Wess dance from MOTHER 3 as a taunt!

The taunt seems to have offensive capabilities too, although the dance is so long that I wonder if it’s actually useful for normal battle situations.

Here’s a better look at Lucas doing the dance, too:

I seriously have no idea how fans are able to pull this stuff off. Amazing work!

Yesterday, Apple pulled a number of games that contained the U.S. Confederate flag from the app store without warning. Today, one of those games is highlighted on Steam’s front page—and players are rallying around it.

If you visit Steam store right now, you should be able to see this:

Fun fact: Ultimate General: Gettysburg, a Civil War tactical battle simulator, is not a new game. It was released in October 16th, 2014. The game’s last update hit on June 11th—a couple of weeks ago. It couldn’t really be considered a ‘hot game’ right now. There is, as far as I can tell, no particular reason for it to suddenly be featured so visibly on the Steam store out of the blue. Unless of course you take into account that Ultimate General Gettysburg was also one of the games that Apple pulled from the App Store yesterday:

Then it kiiiiind of comes across as Valve taking a shot at Apple for pulling down a game for arguably poor reasons. Whatever may have prompted this sudden visibility, Gettysburg is certainly enjoying the limelight. Currently, you can find it on the top 50 games on Steam. But, more importantly, players are populating the reviews page with evaluations that either support the game, or the idea that it might offend people for having the Confederate flag:

While there are certainly some reviews that are misguided in their support of the game, the result is still that Gettysburg is getting more attention and support right now from Steam players in light of its unfortunate removal from the App Store. Which is great and all, but hopefully civil war games like Ultimate General: Gettysburg can be reinstated in the App Store itself, too.

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Does the latest Dad By The Sword [official site] trailer tell us much new about the first-person dad-action-RPG? Nnnooot really (you get a nice look at your dad’s bejorted leg as he kicks a monster, mind). The trailer does, however, have the best live-action sequences since Roundabout. I never knew dad was such a versatile – and prevalent – element.

… [visit site to read more]

France should respond to the U.S.’s “contempt” for its allies by giving Edward Snowden asylum, the leftist French daily newspaper Libération declared on Thursday.

France would send “a clear and useful message to Washington, by granting this bold whistleblower the asylum to which he is entitled,” editor Laurent Joffrin wrote (translated from the French) in an angry editorial titled “Un seul geste” — or “A single gesture.”

The editorial came just two days after Libération co-published a trove of documents obtained by WikiLeaks that recounted how the National Security Agency spied for years on the last three French presidents. (President Barack Obama spoke to French President Francois Hollande Wednesday and told him that — as of late 2013 — “we are not targeting and will not target the communications of the French President.”)

“Contempt” is the only word to describe the U.S.’s behavior to its allies, Joffrin wrote.

France could even the count by offering asylum to the “single, courageous man, who has been chased without respite for three years: Edward Snowden, stalked and threatened with life in prison for having told the truth.”

The WikiLeaks documents showing NSA spying of French leaders have not been sourced to Snowden. But by turning over top-secrets documents to journalists in 2013, Snowden exposed a wide range of invasive U.S. and British surveillance around the globe, and this latest revelation created a new flashpoint for the already considerable outrage.

Libération was co-founded by existentialist French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre in 1973, and has remained a significant left-wing voice ever since.

If Paris offers Snowden asylum, it will be joining several other nations who have done so in the past, including Bolivia, Nicaragua and Venezuela. However, Snowden is still waiting in Moscow to hear from almost two dozen other countries where he has requested asylum.

(This post is from our blog: Unofficial Sources.)

Photo: French President Francois Hollande on the phone. Stefan Rousseau/AFP/Getty Images

The post French Newspaper Cites U.S. “Contempt” as Reason to Offer Snowden Asylum appeared first on The Intercept.

In BooFlag, just switch on your computer mic and boo at the Confederate flag. As you do, it will slowly be lowered, and eventually it will catch on fire and burn to a little pile of ash. Is it all happening too slowly? Boo harder.

It’s satisfying, of course, but as the game reminds you, chiding an emblem doesn’t solve structural problems. It’s an “unofficial sequel” to BulchyC’s Americlap, a game where you earn money by clapping your hands at the American flag til you feel embarrassed. Sometimes very simple mechanics can create such fertile territory, and they make often complicated ideas and thought spaces simple to experience and share.

The game is by Carnegie Mellon professor Paolo Pedercini, whose imprint Molleindustria has done some of the most provocative critiques of systems and issues in the game space for years, on topics from church sex abuse cover-ups, the human cost of smartphone manufacturing, and drones, among many others.

BooFlag comes just after news that Apple would remove a swath of Civil War-themed games from the App Store because they feature the Confederate flag. Attention has been renewed on the fraught Southern emblem since the tragic Charleston church massacre earlier this month—many on social media abroad were surprised to learn the basically racist flag still flies on government buildings in certain parts of America, and remains well-beloved by people who don’t like to think about racism.

BooFlag calls attention to how anger at the symbol, however righteous, might be for some people a much easier method of taking action against structural inequity in America than, you know, actual action. Confederate flag sales have since soared on Amazon.

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Flags! They’re so crazy.

Hey! I revamped the rewards for Patreon patrons this week. The rewards are full of all sorts of recurring goodies, including a patron-exclusive bonus SFAM comic every month!

Check out these rewards:

• Access to the patron-only feed, including early access to all my comics as soon as they are finished.
• A free monthly haiku, written by me, Jon Rosenberg.
• An exclusive patron-only SFAM once a month. Bonus comics!
• Monthly SFAM or Goats computer wallpaper.
• One free ebook each year for Christmas!
• The original art for one Goats strip, each year for Christmas!
• And more!

Consider becoming a SFAM patron today! Your support makes this whole comics thing possible. I can’t do it without you.

The post Deathflag appeared first on Scenes From A Multiverse.

‘Humble’ is not a word I would rush to associate with Borderlands, given the chest-thumping, max-volume mania of 2 and the recent Pre-Sequel, but in this instance it means you can lay hands on the bulk of Gearbox’s FPS/RPG series for few-pennies.
… [visit site to read more]

On my third night in Ark: Survival Evolved [official site], when the sun had finally set and I was left alone in the seething blackness of the jungle, I saw a glimpse of my possible future. I was chopping trees in the dark, too scared to even light a fire for fear of what the warmth might draw toward me, but as another tree toppled with a groan I spied lights in the valley below. I crept closer. Silhouetted in flickering torchlight towered a tyrannosaurus rex, around which a group of hunters darted back and forth, attacking with spears and arrows. Eventually, they hunters prevailed, and, as they set upon the fallen dinosaur with tools to harvest its meat and hides, I faded back into the jungle and began chopping with renewed purpose.

Ark: Survival Evolved is an early access survival game full of these moments – the kind that fill you with trepidation and excitement in equal measure. But for every moment that adds to the enchantment of surviving on an island teeming with prehistoric life, there are just as many capable of frustrating you. Building on a firm foundation well tread by online survival games, Ark certainly has potential, much of it unrealized, but I can’t help but wonder if the claim of Survival Evolved is just too hyperbolic of a statement to make.

… [visit site to read more]

Have you encountered a bug, glitch, or hack while playing Steam’s hottest new dinosaur game? You might be sitting on $100.

ARK: Survival Evolved, a dinosaur survival game that’s been tearing up the top-selling charts for almost a month now, is trying something pretty unique for an Early Access game. One of the developers took to the Steam forums yesterday to announce a new scheme where players will be rewarded for finding exploits:

We offer $100 bounties for anyone who can provide us with hacks of any kind (which are NOT aimbots/esp/speedhacks) that can have an impact on gameplay or server stability on our official, online servers. Feel free to reach out to info@studiowildcard.com with details.

Already, one player has received cash through PayPal—the developers say the entire reporting process took about two hours before the player was compensated. I’m guessing that once reports start flooding in, the process might take a little longer.

Considering that ARK is in Early Access, and therefore is not done, it comes across as a bold move—surely, there are a number of things floating around, waiting to be reported. Cynically, one could view this as crowdsourcing quality assurance...but considering people are getting paid for their efforts, it’s hard for me to side-eye this. It reminds me of Google’s “Chrome Reward Program,” where they offer up to $50,000 to anyone that can find vulnerability in Chrome.

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I love axolotls!

Hey! I revamped the rewards for Patreon patrons this week. The rewards are full of all sorts of recurring goodies, including a patron-exclusive bonus SFAM comic every month!

Check out these rewards:

• Access to the patron-only feed, including early access to all my comics as soon as they are finished.
• A free monthly haiku, written by me, Jon Rosenberg.
• An exclusive patron-only SFAM once a month. Bonus comics!
• Monthly SFAM or Goats computer wallpaper.
• One free ebook each year for Christmas!
• The original art for one Goats strip, each year for Christmas!
• And more!

Consider becoming a SFAM patron today! Your support makes this whole comics thing possible. I can’t do it without you.

The post Just A Theory appeared first on Scenes From A Multiverse.

The FilmCow YouTube channel presents the first episode in a two-part series about a misanthropic fish-wizard named Merlin, who presents a mysterious magical door in the depths of the ocean.

Bill O'Reilly: “You say the Confederate flag is a symbol of hate, and you believe that. For some other people who see it in a historical context, it represents bravery...You know as well as I do that it represents to some bravery in the Civil War, because the Confederates fought hard—”

“That wasn’t the confederate flag!”

“I mean you’re right historically, but in their minds, that’s what it represents. And in your mind it represents hate. And everybody should know what the two sides are believing.”

[MediaMatters via Salon]

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Star Trek: TNG's Jean-Luc Picard drops knowledge over Eclectic Method. (more…)

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It's a nice place, if you have a white penis: "It doesn't just affect women in gaming."

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It’s been a terrible few weeks for the black body.

We’ve just been through a stretch of days that unambiguously demonstrate that black people in this country—and one other—can’t move, think or exist as freely as their non-black counterparts. A white woman claims that she’s always felt black on the inside, to the extent that she calls her own parentage into question. Black people of Haitian heritage in the Dominican Republic face mass deportation and disenfranchisement, despite the fact that many have never known life in any other circumstance than the one being ripped away from them. And nine black congregants were murdered inside a church that’s hallowed ground for the African-American freedom struggle, killed by a young, racist gunman who said that blacks were taking over the world.

Black people aren’t taking over any damn thing. If anything, it’s felt like the existential footing essential to living our lives gets eroded in big crashing waves after events like these. We’re not free to be our fullest selves. Not when the basic psychological agency needed to publically protest or grieve gets shouted down and undercut. The deaths of Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Renisha McBride and too many others at the hands of police—and the activist responses to those killings—have been followed by rabid efforts to re-frame their last moments and entire lives in the worst possible way. On paper, the freedom to air out our grief exists, sure. But it’s met by responses that seek to limit it. Say what you want, black folk; the Constitution allows for that. But don’t you dare invoke the insidious subtext of institutional oppression that drives you to speak in the first place.

Rachel Dolezal is free, to a wildly unfettered degree that lets her say she’s black. She at least gets the courtesy of debate. She’s gotten think-piece articles and televised interviews dedicated to investigating the peculiarity of her individual race problem. I’ve had lot of conversations with black friends over the last few days where we acknowledge that black identity is lived in an infinite number of ways and skin tones. And even as folks bat around the idea that race is a bullshit social construct invented centuries ago to stratify human beings into castes, the mechanism of that contraption still holds some people fastly in place. Not Rachel Dolezal, though. She gets to decide what she is.

The hundreds of thousands of Haitian-descended people in the Dominican Republic staring down the possibility of being deported aren’t free. Many of these people were born in the country trying to throw them out—children of immigrants looking for a better life. They’re in the grip of a centuries-long blood feud between two countries on the same island, one where a sugar colony threw off the yoke of slave oppression. Yet, these at-risk black people in the DR are back where their ancestors started, unable to steer their own lives and plant down roots where they find themselves.

Clementa Pinckney, Cynthia Hurd, Sharonda Coleman-Singleton, Tywanza Sanders, Myra Thompson, Ethel Lee Lance, Susie Jackson, Daniel L. Simmons and Depayne Middleton Doctor were not free in their last moments of life. They died like chattel, pawns in Dylann Roof’s attempt to start a race war. Their freedom to assemble and worship got overridden by the same hoary old myths about white superiority that have driven public policy and private discrimination in America since its birth.

I started writing this in the air over Denver on the 150th anniversary of Juneteenth, a day observed as a holiday memorializing the Emancipation Proclamation. Concerned as it is with the presidential order that said black people weren’t just property anymore, June 19th is a grassroots holiday that looks back at the bleak racial legacy of the American past. It’s a date meant to celebrate the collective strength that carried black folks through slavery.

This Juneteenth didn’t feel celebratory. It felt mournful. The pains of the past are reincarnated and upgraded, parading down black folks’ collective psyche in military-grade police gear and proudly carrying the banners of Jim Crow and apartheid. Right now, what I live inside feels like a sort of shadow freedom. A trap of weariness, doubt, fear and anger that I need to mask or suppress to get through the day. It’s a decaying simulacrum of the way I see other people living—seemingly carefree and unburdened—but hollowed out by the creeping fear of the exact moment I’ll have to explain to my daughter why someone brown got killed by a cop or a racist. Lately, it’s all I can think about. And that’s not very free at all.

Image by Jim Cooke, photos via AP.

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Gemini Gunstock Carver

3D printing might be quicker with less of a mess but for those who like to work with their hands, this is an interesting tool. It’s not solely for gun stocks. With the different attachments you can replicate anything in wood; from guitar bodies to airplane propellers to human skulls. (GRH)

Source