from the Binghamton Bridge Run:
06 May 2018
03 May 2018
SPEL-adjacent in the media
http://news.wbfo.org/post/tick-season-underway-sparks-concern-new-virus-great-lakes-region
No one knows why there’s more cases in the Great Lakes states. Cornell’s Laura Goodman works on a project that screens ticks for diseases like Powassan.
She says, climate change could be a factor, because warmer winters extend the lifecycle of ticks. And, she says folks should be on the lookout for more ticks this year.
“Every indication is that we’re going to have lots of tics this summer,” she said. “We’re already seeing them being submitted this year we’ve already had ticks removed off of people and animals this spring.”
01 May 2018
this is a dumb week
Someone on CNN just said Kanye needs to read Kant's Critique of Pure Reason— Tom Gara (@tomgara) May 2, 2018
30 April 2018
29 April 2018
these amuse me
Because you deserve it, for a limited time....https://t.co/UJOvRw3uom pic.twitter.com/MhH1kM8pFV— Litographs (@litographs) April 5, 2018
from the Comps list: Plato, Machiavelli, Nietzsche and Adam Smith are available ...
27 April 2018
a word for the goat
https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/as-a-new-yorker-i-am-many-things
As a New Yorker, I am many things. I am a bodega sandwich. I am a subway rat. I am a milky puddle of viscous substance leaking onto Eighth Avenue. I am a Louboutin. I am a chicharron. I am a mosque between a taxi depot and a wholesale wig shop. I am the lonely fainting goat in the Binghamton Zoo. I am the curious darkness that descends on a daytime street when the sun falls below the skyscrapers. I am a singing waiter belting out today’s specials. I am a sawmill outside Schenectady. I am the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the streets at dawn looking for an angry fix. I am a confident strawberry blonde with an unabashedly leftist platform who refuses to define her sexuality. I’m also me, Andrew Cuomo.
As a New Yorker, I am many things. I am a bodega sandwich. I am a subway rat. I am a milky puddle of viscous substance leaking onto Eighth Avenue. I am a Louboutin. I am a chicharron. I am a mosque between a taxi depot and a wholesale wig shop. I am the lonely fainting goat in the Binghamton Zoo. I am the curious darkness that descends on a daytime street when the sun falls below the skyscrapers. I am a singing waiter belting out today’s specials. I am a sawmill outside Schenectady. I am the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the streets at dawn looking for an angry fix. I am a confident strawberry blonde with an unabashedly leftist platform who refuses to define her sexuality. I’m also me, Andrew Cuomo.
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