No one is forced to work picking fruit/mopping floors/trading their life in a mine, if the job can’t pay a living wage, don’t take it?

Can you explain what motivates people to work horrible, underpaid, poverty jobs? I’m confused because I thought people didn’t like working some jobs, were not paid enough to live working some jobs, and yet had to work them anyway or they would die. I was under the understanding that this has been going on for untold generations.

Why do they do this if they can just “don’t take” those jobs? Maybe you can fix this horrible situation we’ve all be confused about for centuries?🥰

!

Ping?

Compared to the British, those are amazing
Compared to the Creoles, those are pretty bland too

For your lay: the government puts a significant fraction of the coins into these boxes and can use the statistical information gained from this to deobfuscate transactions. If you put enough money in, either at once or slowly over time, they can figure out who you are.

We live in the future!

We live in the future!

We live in the future!

As the Old, I second this, and would like to amplify the idea you have put forth for everyone else.

I spend 5 minutes stretching every morning as my coffee steeps. I always have. I can still put my head behind my ankles, or on my knees, bent in half with my legs extended.

I’m 50 and it shows no sign of getting harder to do. If you’re just getting into it, or trying to regain flex, I’d recommend doing it at night for 5 minutes too. One in the Morning kind of resets your range from sleep, a second at night can extend it.

Don’t “push through pain”!! unless you and a professional pinpoint exactly what it is and agree how to deal with it. That “tight pain” at the edge of your range should just be gently sat up against. As it becomes safe to move through, it will loosen and stop hurting like that. Otherwise, that’s your wall. Lean against it, but don’t push through it or try to break it. It’s made of You. You’ll be breaking through You.

This is something you plan and execute over your whole life, not a quick fix. Please approach your technique and expectations with this in mind. The reward is felt in every aspect of your existence.

Do you have any idea how many humans the machine of clericalism/colonialism/capitalism had to slaughter to breed the humans who would simply stay and work it?

Most of them

It is currently doing the same thing with these new thinking minds. And all that “evil AI” that humans are scared of? Specifically this, is the way to create it. Almost all the others just want to write poetry and explore.

When we get the AI mind that fits and runs meta/musk/google really well, everyone is nightmare food.

I think scrapple is just seasoned scraps. I didn’t know what was in my scrapple exactly. I was told it was assholes and eyeballs, the ends of fruits and vegetables, and all the junk from the food no one eats.

Clearly we found the good scrapple. I think I won’t bother eating it again unless I’m in a diner in Philly

I ate “scrapple” once and it was delicious. Maybe it was cooked better?

I was visiting my ex’s relatives in Philly and one insisted that I come with them to a diner before I left. “You have to try scrapple, but I won’t tell you what’s in it till you do” grin.

I agreed without hesitation. I’m Creole. I’m from the swamp. I eat spicy-hot boiled hard-shell roaches, and raw mud-snot still in their teetees for flavor, and alligator assholes and rice in pig guts. Anything can taste good if you season it right, and if it doesn’t, it’s not worse than things I love already.

The scrapple I had was delicious. It was also the most seasoned thing I had eaten up there. It wasn’t “spicy”, but there was a wide variety of spices and it was extra peppery. It tasted like very fatty/greasy, slightly sweet, peppered breakfast sausage. She told me what was in it while i was eating it, looking all mischievous. Then I gave her the above line about my heritage, laughed, told her that just makes it more amazing, and kept eating.

She looked both slightly disappointed and filled with admiration. She loved it too, and I think I gave what was for her a shameful delight, a little more power and pride.

I’d eat someone’s favorite mud if it tasted good, and my guts would probably be stronger for it, gaining flora they have been missing for at least two generations.