Month: October 2020

Physicists talk shit all the time. It’s a game for us to screw with the heads of non-physicists. Why? Because we’re assholes. We’re emotionally damaged. We’re deranged. We should rightly be rounded up and executed for our crimes against human emotional stability. And it’s not really that we necessarily want to screw with the others, but rather than the clarity of the situation unfolds us as it unfolds in front of us.

Why do I bring this up? Because we have probably spent enough time for a while on theoretical physics. We have lost our direction, brothers and sisters. We have become an outmoded collection of unemployed half-assed mathematicians with the main purpose in our lives to train engineers to have stable families and happiness instead of us. There are specific problems and physicists can’t continue to be content with our fundamental asshole structures in the body-centric, just because a sufficient number of us have jobs that either train engineers to have stable families and happiness instead of us, or train the people who will train the engineers to have stable families and happiness instead of us. Some of us will also train doctors and nurses to recognize the inherent limits of their ability sub-inferior to their ability to take and remove life from the crumpled frames that inhabit their workspace. The specific problems, they are medical, infrastructure, and disruptional. And now the world slides into self-orchestrated poverty, the ones who will take it in the shorts are the ones who usually do so, those broken, crumpled frames in Haiti, Bangladesh, Burkino Faso, and any other place that has opted out of the global client state economy in the last two hundred years or so.

We can’t sit on our bony asses and our fat asses doing physics as the world collapses around us. “Not collapsing” you say? Tell that to the mother in Haiti who has buried two baby sons because of diarrhea. Or the dad in Bangladesh who buried two daughters because of pneumonia. The “collapse” is not a disease that kills old people, it’s the diseases that kill babies, and eight-year-old girls who want to be like mommy and weave straw mats for yoga instructors in Pocatello.

Dr. Cassandra apparently wants nothing more to do with me, I guess she’s still pissed about the death-faking thing, but I had to do what I had to do. I get that I was a corrosive influence in her life. She and I spoke last night …

Do you know how to sell things?

I built production in Pocatello for 960 units/month of a new Millennial toy. I haven’t figured out how to sell them yet.

They sell for $24/each, they’re made in Pocatello, buyers pick their colors, and I’m set up to make 960 units/month in the space I have now in Pocatello. I’m making some TikTok style videos, I’m hoping that these will get some traction. So far my Facebook ads are only returning on $5/unit. That shows that the recipe is wrong. It needs to be down to about $1/unit to build momentum. My daughters are good at the TikTok, I think there is a chance with that.

I just saw your Facebook thing on the phone. You’re either an undiscovered supermodel or you’re a retired supermodel. Why are you broke? You could like, make hundreds of millions for recovery and humanitarian projects in Haiti and Burkino Faso. The camera just fucking loves you. The camera wants to BE you! It’s a big deal Cassie, it’s called visual charisma. And then you have this kind of sad elegance at the same time, I do believe that you might be one of the few women on the planet who is actually admired rather than jealousified by the legions of bimbos. It’s weird, it’s like you exude a kind of wisdom.

Are you sure that Aspen is the right place for you at this point? You could save millions of lives of children in Developing Nations if you got involved in that area of philanthropy. You have a have a kind of patience … visual patience. It’s like a complexity buried under the cheerleader. Generally, you should expect to see about 8% of the money you raise. It’s not good to go above that. If you go a little lower, like 6%, you might make more money because it lowers the non-profit’s overhead.

The time is now Cassie. This COVID shutdown is going to be like a tornado in Developing Nations. The U.S. assistance was only a trickle before COVID, now it’s even less because our economy was butt-fucked by COVID. So if someone as beautiful, elegant, mysterious and pissed off as you got involved in this, you could bring hundreds of millions into Developing Nations, employee-equity companies, small business grants for economically disadvantaged communities.

It’s not really ethical to charge a fee on non-profits, but if you incorporate with a 501(c)3, you can draw a salary from that which would approximate about 6% of the money you raise. If you figure in another 4% of internal friction, plus an additional 10% of sub-prime friction, you’re still looking at something like an 80% direct-to-recipient program. That’s good. That would save lives.

Post COVID, we’re going to need a shit-ton of water disinfection in Haiti, Bangladesh and West Africa. Anti-fungals, anti-bacterials, at least 1500 pediatric nurses need to be trained locally. We’re talking about the opportunity to save up to 2 million lives in 2021 from diarrhea, 3 million lives in 2021 from pneumonia, save another 2 million lives from Malaria and Antibiotic mmm Encephalitis.

If you do this, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll take you on a date to the Burj Club.

The current U.S. fundraising industry for Developing Nations needs disruption. It doesn’t need to be elegant, it doesn’t need to be tasteful. We have to get in front of Millennials and get them to adopt kids, get them to vacation in places like Haiti and Ghana, and just get some real change to happen. Because we’re looking at about 4 million children who die every year because of lack of basic sanitation and basic medicine. You can get onboard this train Cassie, we’re going to fucking slam dance this. The era of the e=c is coming. Employee Equity Company. This is the next logical progression after the failure of socialism and the failure of capitalism. e=c is going to change everything. You’ll soon see it everywhere, inthefuture.com, but you saw it here first. I’m the architect. I slam danced this shit, I did the worm in a pile of broken glass while Minor Threat and Screeching Weasel pumped the Universe full of 100% not-from-concentrate love. I can do this, but you can do it better.

You can do it better. I need you. I know I don’t know you. I don’t want to fucking know you because I’ll fall in love with you like all those other assholes and I’ll end up drinking myself to death. With nothing more than Haitian Sunrises and Haitian Lanillas and Uncle Donnie’s Toasted Oranges. I need you to do this. Yes, I’m insane, all substandard humans are insane and I’m sub-substandard. But you need to do this, the kids need you. You are the United States of America, Cassie. You are the best ideals and talents and knowledge and hard work that we can offer. And if you don’t do it, at least please don’t unfriend me here, because I want to copy that letter i just wrote to you and sell it to Stumpy Lefkowitz for a bottle of tequila. I love you.

When a woman turns down a date to the Burj Club, she isn’t into you, dude.

But the point is still the point … we spend a lot of time on physics that isn’t testable for the most part, often even when we happen to have a supercollider in our back pocket. So here’s my hare-brained suggestion … let’s resolve to spend 25% of our time on the most pressing humanitarian issues, 25% of our time doing what used to take 90% of our time, we can waste the other 25% and still be ahead, and then we can spend the last 25% on testable methods to open up some of these hidden areas of science like dark matter and dark energy and the Fine Structure Constant, the sensitivity of the Cosmological Constant, gauge theories, and all that wacky stuff that physicists do. So here’s the pitch … most departments can devote a couple of benches in one of their lesser-used labs to testing the mass-defect. It’s not trivial work, but it’s tractable work that doesn’t require billion Euro grants. Normally, testing nucleus-level resolution isn’t easy, but in this case it’s mostly mediated by the electrons and we’re good at measuring electrons. We can infer what’s happening in the nucleus through the electrons. We should see some variability to the mass defect as the universe expands, and we should be able to simulate an acceleration of that with the far wings in the electron spectra. Again, not easy, but tractable if we can settle our lives sufficiently long to build up a National Instruments bus, and see what we get. We’ll need to build some Josephson Junctions, we’ll need to build some standard Hall Effect sensors and fluid Hall Effect sensors with the opposite charge flow. We’ll need to build some Casimir Effect devices, just some airbag-sensor type neutron etchings, nothing that the materials people can’t build in a year or a few weeks if they’re chugging. (Materials folks, look at the feedback and control for interfacial stress on your cantilevers from oxidized surfaces and surfaces with diffusion barriers like tungsten. You should be able to amplify the small effects near the ground state.)

Yes, we’ve all done this work at various stages in our careers, but rarely with any kind of integrated effort to measurements of changes of the mass-defect in materials subjects to various frames of reference. This is what we need, and it should go a long way to really figuring out how much “wandering” happens around the ground state-barrier, and that might be popular with the dark energy folks.

So mass-defect is a potentially minute-measurable effect, along with those other effects near the ground state. But one other potentially measurable effect should also show up in the Kelvin barrier, which we can measure at around 15 nanometers up to about 150 nanometers depending on the complexity of the molecule. But anyone who has ever seen some electron microscopy images of the crystalline structures down below 25 nanometers or so, knows how sensitive those geometric packings are. Hell, solid state physics is built on that sensitivity, and thank goodness it only takes a tiny bit of dopant to make the layer do what we want it to do. (We do need to incorporate REE extraction from geothermal energy production however, we need to make REE the tail that wags that dog, so that the geothermal extraction is the free co-product, in the same way that nuclear energy was the free co-product of the Cold War’s race to build nuclear warheads. But iPhones and Beats Headphones play way better in Peoria than nuclear warheads, so it’s a safe bet that we’ll need REEs for a long time into the future, and perhaps all countries should have our own domestic production of that, and do so in a way that doesn’t make a pristine river in Ghana the consistency of Chinese egg drop soup? If we pull REEs from the produced waters, I’m quite sure that we can make REE production a human and environmentally-responsible activity. There is nothing in the Laws of Thermodynamics that says a bunch of millionaire engineer CEOs suddenly have the need to become filthy polluting wankers. Yes, it will require more effort to optimize the process to do it cleanly, but don’t heap your lazy ass bullshit onto the Third Law of Thermodynamic, huh?)

I digress again, apologies …

Anyone who has looked at the these crystalline structures knows how sensitive they are to defects. The packing structure shows it like the carcass of a bluebottle fly in a bag in white rice. So, we should be able to see measurable variances of carefully characterized structures near the Kelvin Barrier, and that’s fairly straightforward to measure, because an increase or decrease in the Kelvin barrier directly impacts the number density of the unaggregated particles.

Cassie, I miss you, Happy Birthday, babe. I love you. I hope you’re having fun in Pocatello.

One of the cliches of applied physics theory is that you can’t fuck with entropy. Your harebrained new theory violates conservation of energy? Eh, why not? You just dreamed up a way to de-harmonize the deBroglie oscillation? Give it a try chili-girl, maybe you got something. But your theory violates the Third Law? Perish the thought, you’re all washed up, and that rot.

Entropy is what it is because we have never found an exception, we have never found a causality violation, we have never seen Nature do what Nature does in any way except as a glorious testament to the Laws of Thermodynamics.

But why?

“Why” is the kind of question that physicists don’t like to think about, it forces us to confront our own mortality. Yeah, artists and poets can handle that, but physicists … we all suffered through Jackson together, maybe we even suffered through Cohen-Tenoudji together. We have the keys to the l’automobile, why should we sit in the parking lot smoking spliffs if we can actually drive away?

We don’t think about why entropy increases because if we did, we would have to think about entropy decreasing. And entropy never decreases, right?

Unless it decreases.

Please don’t pillory me yet, just look at the expansion first. I’m going to avoid rational numbers and rational units here to avoid the temptation to do the math and take away the fun from Paul Muni. So say the Universe at this moment expands by an average of 100 knots per second. Okay, so as the universe expands, what is happening to the entropy of the universe? The particles become further apart, even the distance from the mass-defect radius to the nucleus, the decay to the Coulombic radius suffers, shit falls apart, electrons take off for parts unknown, they hang out with seedy neutrinos, they might even oscillate, the neutrons say “fuck you bitch” and leave the protons to manage their weak-force balance until they decay into a new isotope, bingo bango, Bob’s yer uncle, entropy in action. And it’s measurable.

So the expansion of the stuff of the universe itself increases its disorder as it increases the average number density in thea given volume. Things have gone to pieces, right George? (You never did a no-show when I needed your song, good buddy.)
https://youtu.be/4EBCE9OCyok

Volumetric expansion (hell, even fractal expansion between 2D and 3D) is an entropic increase, that defines the limit of the function for the work that we recover from the increased entropy. It’s like Mother Nature coyly hands us all the energy we could need by nudging down the ratio of h-bar omega (Feynman says “fuck the factor of two”) and all we have to do is take credit for sweeping it up.

But what happens when the dielectric constant between the vacuum of the Universe and the empty space that encompasses our delightful bubble of life start to equalize such that the Casimir force becomes repulsive rather than attractive? That’s likely the point that the universe says “nice eating bagels with you shmoes” and starts to collapse again, the long hard slog back to the point where the dielectric imbalance again demands an attractive Casimir force, it crunches as far as it cares and then it starts heading back to this shit again, the endless cycle of renewal and despair.

But what happens to those poor flasluguner shmucks who have to live with a collapsing universe? Because the entire universe has a decrease in entropy all the time. That seems wonderful to our monkey brain, all that delicious and delightful ORDER, but where is this endless well of work to decrease this entropy? Presumably from the fabric of the universe itself, as the mass-defect then starts to expand, and the fermions of destiny coalesce around the new mass defect, probably somewhere near European Opium (aka Europeum) or even Americium, or Amerigo Vespuccium as it will inevitably be known. So the ground-state changes, and it begins to gobble up all the available above-ground-state energy that it can, shuffleboarding it into the ground state, where the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle protects it from illegal energy poaching. (They warned us about renormalization, didn’t they?)

The idea of a universally-decreasing entropy is far more spooky than of universally-increasing entropy. At least on this journey, we don’t really know how long we have, until we actually calculate the dielectric balance of the vacuum of the universe versus the empty space around our bubble of enjoyment. But when it collapses, that’s convergence, and everything that rises much converge, said Flannery, so we look at that convergence point, and our face goes white, we see our destiny, it’s in in front of us, the end of the ride.

How many people have had to face that? Never knowing if the universe would find a way to spontaneously recombust another Tupac? Somehow find a way to grant humanity the ability to make a good batch of ceviche? Miserable. I hope those folks had the good drugs, they deserved them. And it may not have even squished everything to a point … the Big Bang only needs the delectric balance to come within the Kelvin barrier of the component average in the vacuum. (I guess Kelvin barrier wouldn’t be the right word, since it’s vacuum, but say a vacuum barrier) which then varied the dielectric balance between the vacuum and the empty space that surrounds our bubble, then engorged with the luxury of volume, the entropy of empty space, increasing and sucking up the work function of the vacuum. Like a snack gorging on its tail … so are the Days of Our Lives.

From ARS Technica, we are presented of what the future of war in space will be. Link. Okay, what the actual fuck?

Yeah, we get it, the United States of America, and Russia, India, Pakistan, France, China and some others are apparently preparing to go to war in space. What’s the point of going to war in space? It’s hard enough to go to war on the land and the ocean and under the ocean, and in a dark basement somewhere in Frankfurt trying to hack into Lisa Cutter’s website just because you’ve been in Germany for most of your life, working for those goddamn slave drivers at the hacker’s organization that employs you, and woman, it would just be really nice to just just ride your board for a while at Steamboat, chill with a Haitian Sunrise, talk about the later works of Franz Kafka, maybe make a few bucks a week pulling weeds around town in the summer, maybe picking up a little hacking work on the side.

The point is, it’s hard enough going to war anywhere where a war needs to supposedly happen since they are inhabited by people who don’t own credit cards. But in space? Man, what’s the point of that? Yeah, I’ve no doubt there is some square-jawed asshole warning someone somewhere about the directed microwave-enshrouded beta particle beams from space that are going to penetrate the tinfoil on his skull and bake his brains like a can of hobo beans. But as a general rule, there are about 7 billion people on the surface of the earth, that could sufficiently manage the ten million of so psychopathic assholes who seek to enslave us because oppression for some reason makes them feel like they’re coming into a jar of marshmallow fluff. Fair enough, we do tend to let them do it quite often in the short recorded history of our planet. (I read that after the Haitian revolution, the leader outlawed the use of whips on the former slaves, so the bosses switched to some kind of locally-grown whip, made of organically-grown material rather than leather. Zouk la ce sel médicament nou ni!) But things are changing to a degree, over the last couple hundred years we seem to have reached some evolutionary epoch where us humans can process both emotions and logic at the same time, and recognize that just because we don’t necessarily lose sleep over a hundred thousand millionaires who unfortunately died at the too-young age of 98, we can be bothered rather intensely by a Haitian child who dreams of being a professional baseball players someday, and will statistically end up in fact dying of diarrhea if he gets it once too often. We have become better humans to a degree. And it’s not because of social media, or computers, or electric cars, or a package delivery service that rhymes with Mamazon who is unwittingly trying to privatize the people-owned United States Postal Service. The assholes don’t get to claim credit for this change, they were part of the problem, who somehow managed not to get in our way long enough to get this shit done, son. It’s just because time marches forward, as times tends to do, and cultures mature just as people mature. Cultures die as people die, and we just happen to be alive at a moment when the short history of human culture has coincided with a reasonably banal time in the Short History of Temporary Explosions. We happen to be alive at a time when the slaves revolted again, and by some weird fluke, we managed to hold the shit together without letting too many of the ten-million assholes out of their cages to victimize us.

(Odd the irony of that “cage” isn’t it? When a violent criminal who is poor is captured by us, we lock them in a metal box, and subject them to search for humanity in the confines of that hell. When a violent criminal who is wealthy is captured by us, we lock them in a computer, and subject them to search for their own kind in the confines of that heaven. It’s tempting to conclude that the wealthy ones have it better, they certainly are more likely to live to the too-young age of 98 when the unstoppable juggernaut of the disease-du-jour finally finds a way to put them into the box. But it’s a nonsensical discussion. We put them in a box of comfort because their power allows them that comfort. We put the powerless into a box of discomfort because we aren’t really as evolved as we would like to think ourselves.)

Time marches forward, we’re gradually fixing what is fucked up, we’re actually making progress in trying to keep that baseball-dreaming kid in Haiti from dying of diarrhea, so that he can grow up to most likely be some working asshole like the rest of us, but actually pretty fucking happy with a few bucks in his pocket, his kids in school, and his wife able to turn a spigot in the kitchen to get water for the new baby rather than have to walk two miles with it from the only certified safe well-draw, like his mom had to do it to keep him from dying of diarrhea when he was a kid and used to dream of playing shortstop for Miguel Sano and the Twins. Life doesn’t really need to be complicated or wonderful to be okay. Sometimes the bill collectors can be after your ass, the tooth your were trying to save could have just been knocked out of your skull by falling off the ladder while trying to clear The Widow Anderson’s rain gutters, and without even a buck in your pocket to afford a beer, you have half of cigarette left that you found outside the Albertsons, and if you break off the filter, you should be able to smoke it without worrying about catching Hepatitis from whomever had it before you … and yeah, life is still pretty damned beautiful. Life is still worth living, even when they’re trying to explode your brain with that directed microwave-shrouded beta-particle beam from space.

Eventually, the few remaining uncaged psychopaths will get the message that we’re done with war, for the most part. We’re dealing with too much shit in our heads to want to kill anyone. So once we finish up the remaining wars on the surface, and then figure out a way to get all the children with nice fat bellies, and keep them alive long enough for them to realize that real life is even better than daydreams and Hollywood, then why in the actual fuck would we want to start waging war in friggen space?

There’s an unlimited supply of it, and the planets that are down there are generally far more inhospitable to us than the actual space. Assuming we can gather enough energy from above the ground-state to convert Bosons to Fermions, we won’t really need the course matter of asteroids and rocks. The true currency of the universe is energy, not mass. Mass is an odd, temporary state of energy, gradually decaying from Fermions back to Bosons as the critical radius decreases sufficiently that the intermolecular forces no longer dominate, and the interatomic decay both above and below the mass defect can predominate. And if we can’t reduce the entropy of Bosonic systems, then there is no point in even going into space, because there is nothing for us there, and we’ll never be able to go anywhere anyway, nor would we particularly want to go anywhere. So if in a few hundred years, we still haven’t found a way to affordably reduce the entropy of Boson clusters in a motor at least as efficient as a Fuji 488, 2-stroke, 2-cylinder, 2-carb, valve-free engine, then okay, let’s just give up, let the criminals and psychopaths destroy our lives here, because what’s the point then anyway, if we’re all stock on this rock like a prison. But assuming we can do what seems obvious, we should just do that, and then Space Force 7 can field our line of family-fun space boats, and hell, we might even allow political pundits to consume Uncle Donnie’s Natural Bar Snacks while onboard.

Time moves forward, and we’re likely just less fucked up as a collection of people just because we hit the temporal lottery, and we happen to be fortunate enough to live in an era where a boot doesn’t smash our face every morning at 5:34 A.M sharp.

We’re not going to go to war in space, sir. Sorry, we’re going to chill in space, and we’re going to listen to Barry White and drink some excellent cocktails, and we’re going to get laid sometimes, with great effort, but we’re going to get laid nonetheless.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJMru_XqDHk

We have just received notice that Alexandra Petri of the Washington Post and Danielle Pletka at the American Enterprise Institute have taken to eviscerating each other again … well, Alexandra is doing most the field-dressing, but that’s the not the point of this update.

Space Force 7 has long positioned itself as an advocacy organization to the general move away from mass-reaction space transport. We may not have the most famous scientists in the industry, but we do have some of the most level-headed, dead-eyed realism in the space transport industry. Since we are unencumbered with the need for a profit model above our current TRL 3 research, we are also unencumbered with the need for petty squabbles of the news of the day. And as luck would have it, Alex is doing a bang-up job. But c’mon here, can’t we walk a mile in another woman’s moccasins here? Danielle has never had the comfort of essentially owning a piece of a land. She’s like the forboding bride in Ford Maddox Brown’s “The Last of England.” She’s not in the USA because she escaped the death squads of Australia, she’s here because the USA offers certain opportunities that some of the best and brightest might find difficult in smaller markets. But we will stand toe-to-toe with chopping off tall poppies with anyone. That’s the way we do things here as well as any place that is populated with a bunch of sexually-repressed humans raised by robot computers.

Look, both of you are great broads, I mean that sincerely. But we cannot allow either of you to bring any Uncle Donnie’s Fido Fiber onboard Space Force 7 spaceboats. It’s not that we don’t want you to be well-nourished in your ride through the stars and the great vacuum of space and whatnot, it’s just that we’re a low-budget space force, we operate on a thin margin, and realistically, we can’t afford the sewage disposal costs that they’re n0w charging a shit-ton for moving a ton of shit onto the processing stations on Giesse 667 Cc. We appreciate your patronage of our fledgling spaceboat charters ladies, but we would rather you save your business for before or after a ride in one of our spaceboats so that we can keep our tankage requirements low and save on offloading costs.

We understand fully that Uncle Donnie’s Fido Fiber is a delicious and healthful way to increase keratin production in healthy adults and even children. With Uncle Donnie’s mouthwatering ensemble of perfectly dried and expertly seasoned sweet potatoes, mangoes, peaches, roma tomatoes, and apples, we understand fully that you’ll feel as if you’re floating on a cloud of taste sensation and crunchtastic excitement, even as you two politicos plummet through the bowels of deep space. But please understand ladies, we need to keep our tankage costs down so that we can finally get our ideas into the public spaceboat market!

We have long looked for an alternative to the typical mass-transfer spaceboat propulsion system, we see it to be as generally wasteful as throwing gold bars through the ice to gain a modicum of propulsion across a frozen pond. We favor the use of mass-gathering in space, and then using our stored energy to create the mass-reaction pair. However, even at 1 atom per cubic centimeter on the edges of our own home solar system, there simply isn’t a sufficient amount of mass to get to even a low-budget tourist destination in less than 30 minutes. And that’s what this industry has always needed; a thirty minute spaceboat ride where the general adoring public can offload, take a free shit in the spacedock’s head, eat pizza and look at the locals, take another free dump in spaceboat dock’s bathroom, and then get back onboard for a 30 minute ride back home. And then when you get home, you eat your Uncle Donnie’s Fido Fiber there, where you can see if it really is a “snack that is a thousand times more delicious than a bucket of dog hair or your money back, and that’s the Uncle Donnie guarandamntee.”

The point here is that Danielle should be excused somewhat for seeing boogeymen behind doors, she left one place to be in another place, not because there was a death squad at the door, but because there was an opportunity to enslave a bunch of hapless Yanks to lives without unions, to lives without doctors, to survive in a reality where an 8 year old American black girl is more likely to die of asthma than an 8 year old American white girl.

Yeah, Danielle sees boogeymen hiding behind doors, how could she not? It’s actually something of a romantic kind of interlude to see the world dangling in the precipice, the world in danger of hidden forces beyond our control, rather than the Seybold Guillotine cutter that is poised to take off our fingers because some jackass who knows fuck-all about the hazards of the finishing operation, jury rigged one of the buttons so that he could jog the paper while he cuts. Danielle sees boogeymen because she has the luxury to see them, she has time to look into the shadows because she’s rarely chased by zombie pig men.

And yet, this political nonsense aside, we know that two of these things have nothing at all to do with politics. For one, an American black 8 year old girl is more likely to die of asthma than an American white 8 year old girl. That’s not politics, that statistics, and this asthma disparity has to be identified and corrected. We can’t ethically send spaceboats to space by converting integral spin particles into half-spin particles to use in the mass reaction, if we can’t first find a way to kill some American white 8 year old girls from asthma to correct the disparity.

What’s that? We don’t want any additional American white 8 year old girls to die from asthma? Okay, then we need to reduce the numbers of American black 8 year old girls to die from asthma, and American latina 8 year old girls, and American native 8 years old girls. The asthma disparity is real, and it’s another example of institutional racism that cannot stand in a country that is ideally founded on something better than the quest for a really lovely vacation flat in Pott’s Point, right Daniella?

But you see, even if you can’t have that lovely vacation flat in Pott’s Point, or Tararonga, or Wooloomooloo, you can still enjoy the savory goodness of Uncle Donnie’s Fido Fiber, just not on Space Force 7 charter spaceboats. Because we’re saving our money for our weakly-interacting neutrino oscillation driver that we’ve been building that allows us to convert integral spin particles into half-spin particles and use them in the mass-driver of our brand of “30-minutes or less” spaceboats.