Category Archives: Relationships

Damned Environmentalists vs It’s All About Money

Posted on July 17, 2012 by | 22 comments

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

The neighbor up the hill drove down to sit awhile yesterday evening.  We discovered once again, as we have before, there are areas where we’re rigid enough in our certainties so’s there’s no room for civil discourse.  We found two of those more quickly than it takes to tell it.  One involved multi-national corporations.

Neighbor:  Sure.  They’re shipping jobs and industry overseas because labor, costs of production are cheaper.

Me:  That’s what I’m saying.  They’re indifferent to the well being of US workers, the US economy. 

Neighbor:  It’s still jobs.  Still people working, making a living.  Africa, South America.  They’re all people.

Me:  Yeah, they’re people.  But why should a guy in Minnesota trying to scratch out a living favor losing it so’s someone in Asia can have a job?

Neighbor:  He can buy products cheaper.

Me:  He can’t buy products at any price if he doesn’t have a job.  Part of the job of his government is to make sure his job stays inside the country.

Neighbor, clamping jaw:  We aren’t going to talk about this.  You and I see it differently.

Then, a few minutes later:

Neighbor:  They want to build a pipeline to bring oil from Canada to the Texas coast.  Damned environmentalists are protesting, keeping them from it.

Me:  So why don’t they refine it up there.  Canada, northern US?

Neighbor:  No shipping ports.

Me:  What they need shipping ports for?  Nobody in Canada, Minnesota needs gasoline?  Cities don’t need hydrocarbons to produce electricity?

Neighbor:  They need to sell it overseas.   It’s all about money.  They can get better prices selling it to China or somewhere.

 Me:  Who needs to sell it overseas?  The people living on the land they’d take by government mandate to  put in a pipeline?  The people in the US who’d be heating their houses and running their cars on the gasoline if it’s refined close to where it comes out of the ground?  Who?

Neighbor, getting up:  Sorry I brought it up.

Luckily, neither the neighbor, nor I, depend on any sort of agreement between ourselves.  Neither has anything invested in the opinion of the other.  And whatever we might think about it, that oil’s going to arrive where the people who burn it pay the highest price.  The Canadian sands producing oil belong to people who might be anywhere, but who own stock in a company who bought the mineral rights.  They want the most dividends so they can buy more stock and get more dividends.

Old Jules

22 Comments

Posted in 2012, Current Issues, Government, Human Behavior, Nature, Relationships, Senior Citizens, Solitude, Texas, Transportation

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Certainties, Self-Examination and BS

Posted on July 10, 2012 by | 11 comments

Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

If I hadn’t carefully avoided ever typing the words, “I’m dismantling Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle here,”  I’d find it easier to understand how a casual acquaintance could call this blog BS.  Anyone who’s certain Heisenberg’s correct usually has a conviction at a religious-level and genuflects muttering Hail Marys and Amens to the concept enough times per day to keep it fresh.  If I’d ever come right out and flatly stated it’s a fig-newton of the imagination I’d expect to be damned from hell to breakfast.

But I haven’t.

So I’m forced to conclude there must be something else I’ve posted here during the past year that a person considering himself prudent, reasonable, intelligent, could disagree with.  If I had time I’d scroll back over the entries and try to figure out what it could be.  Seems to me everything I’ve ever posted here is so patently obvious as to be absolutely outside the scope of rational argument.

For instance, I’ve frequently implied, but probably never come out and actually said I consider cops to be lowlife scum no better than the people they’re sworn to chase and catch.  Motivated by greed, lust for power, and cowardly, weak-kneed, vacuous need to find something inside themselves to rhyme with an ambiguous concept of self-worth.  Admittedly, it’s probably an over-generalization.  No doubt there are exceptions. 

Exceptions that prove the rule.

Same with politicians, rabid rabbit-frightened patriots, flag wavers, lawyers, CEOs of multi-national corporations, Texans, people with “WHOOPTEEDOO!  I’M A VETERAN” bumper stickers and mostly the rest of us.  Whomever we might be.

What’s not to like, what’s to disagree with in any of that?

But, of course, I’m a man with a weakness for brutal, honest self-examination, so I’m going to have to think more on all this.  Possibly scan over some past posts in an effort to find some slip I’ve made in my posts someone might be able to construe as BS.

Old Jules

11 Comments

Posted in 2012, America, Astronomy, Communication, Current Issues, Human Behavior, Police, Politics, Relationships, Science, Senior Citizens

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Opposing Thumbs, Tools and the 21st Century

Posted on July 8, 2012 by | 8 comments

Hi readers.  You 21st Century people probably see this sort of thing every day, take it for granted.

If a person has a piece of land with too many trees on it the 21st Century’s figured out a way to get them off in a hurry.

All that old fashioned 20th Century stuff with chainsaws, backhoes, bulldozers and such seemed futuristic when compared to a double-blade axe and a span of oxen.  But opposing thumbs don’t sit still for inefficiency.

Enter:  The Tree Terminator.

He’ll run spang out of trees before he runs out of machine, I’m thinking.  But he’s got a rock rake he can put on it to pile up all the rocks exposed by the overgrazing cows, cutting out trees and general devilments of geology.  And once that’s done there’s probably an attachment to castrate goats and another to balance the check book.

The 21st Century don’t need no stinking badges.

Old Jules

8 Comments

Posted in 2012, Country Life, Homesteading, Human Behavior, Nature, Relationships, Science, Texas

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Magnetic Fingers et al Preliminary Hypothesis

Posted on July 6, 2012 by | 2 comments

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

Flux Transfer Event Topology,

Old Sol – Fondling Mother Earth With Magnetic Fingers

I doubt anyone’s going to be edified by this, understand what I’m saying, or assign anything serious to it.  But I’m going to say it anyway. 

Those flux transfer events between earth and Old Sol and their 8 minute dayside intervals are manifesting themselves in a number of indirect, measurable ways a person in his right mind wouldn’t be inclined to attribute to them.   The 8 minute gap isn’t actually an 8 minute gap, but is filled in with flux transfer events targeted somehow to other solar system bodies.  Those show up as reflected energy detectable and measurable on darkside earth, distinguishable by the magnitudes and distances of the objects doing the reflecting.

The hypothesis, weak enough to begin, weakens further relative to the ‘active’ and ‘passive’ events sunside, spinward and anti-spinword, and the ‘hidden’ events the guy at University of Iowa detected.  But there’s a body of indications the passive events are actually the boundary zone where the reflective energy merges and influences the weakening dayside events.

It’s not my intention to persuade anyone to the accuracy of what I’ve said here.  The limited testing I’ve done to form the hypothesis has been almost entirely on darkside and twilight-zone data.  However, the data I’m using is probably only one of the ways these events are manifesting themselves and being recorded as unrelated phenomena.  Anyone with an interest and a smidgen of imagination can probably find other datasets equally measurable and testable.

And anyone not interested enough to do it probably is better qualified to judge whether there’s any validity to it.

Old Jules

2 Comments

Posted in 2012, Astronomy, Human Behavior, Relationships, Science

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Old Sol – Fondling Mother Earth With Magnetic Fingers

Posted on July 1, 2012 by | 5 comments

spaceweather.com

Me:  How’s the hammer hanging this morning, big guy?  You ready to rock and roll?  Ready to kick some serious ass of darkness?

Old Sol:  Depends on the part of the spectrum you’re referring to.  I imagine where you’re standing it’s the impression you’ll be left with.

Me:  Cool.  Hey, while I’m thinking about it, been intending to ask you about this a couple of days.  About all this sneaky pinching and feeling around on Mama Earth’s magnetic field every eight minutes . . .[Flux Transfer Event Topology]

Old Sol:  Hold on just a minute there, Bubba.  Just because you took so long noticing doesn’t mean I’ve been hiding anything.  Nothing illicit, surreptitious going on at all.

Me:  Okay.  Forget I said that part.  But We, and I think I speak for everyone on the planet in asking this.  We, I was going to say, are curious about a couple of things.  First, what are you getting back out of it?  Some sort of erotic feedback? 

Old Sol:  You need to get your mind out of the gutter.  First off, my relationship with your planet is strictly platonic.  Free exchange of hmmm, not ideas, exactly, but something that rhymes with ideas on a somewhat larger scale.

Me:  Yeah.  So you say.  But those little throbs every eight minutes don’t seem all that platonic to the disinterested observer.  Is this connection, this rubbing around against one another something you just do with Earth?  Or are you doing with the other objects you can reach, too? 

Old Sol:  Think about it before you start your holier than thou moralizing.  Do you think I can resist a magnetic field anywhere close enough for me to feel it?  I’ve been watching you long enough to know, when it comes to issues of resisting, you’ve got no more going for you than I have.

Me:  We’re not talking about me here.  Quit trying to dodge the issue.  You got your pulsing little fingers out there on Jupiter, Neptune, Saturn, Uranus all the time, too?  And what’s with the eight-minute thing?

Old Sol:  Some are more satisfying than others, I’ll admit.  Those crustal magnetic fields don’t give me much of a lift, but they can be a nice quickie.  But there’s nothing like a good core magnetic field to wake up against on a cold morning.  I’m an old renaissance star in a lot of ways.  I can go either way, crustal, or core.   Either way’s fairly celestial on my end of things.  And nobody out there’s complaining, that I’ve heard.

Me:  Mama Earth know about all this?

Old Sol:  No.  And don’t you go telling her about it, either.

Old Jules

5 Comments

Posted in 2012, Astronomy, Communication, Relationships, Science

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The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test

Posted on June 29, 2012 by | 13 comments

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by.

Maybe the reason I lured myself into allowing my hopes to include that 1977 C60 school bus was just a time warp slipped in briefly.  Fond memories have a way of coming back to haunt folks as they approach the jumping off place, I reckons.

A million years ago, Back Just Before Hippies Were Invented, summer, 1964, when KoolAid was just KoolAid and acid was still just something to excite a strip of litmus paper, I had my first experience driving a school bus.

As described in the post linked above, I’d gotten out of jail in Rochester, NY, walked halfway down Ohio, been picked up by a taxicab going deadhead back to Terre Haute, Indiana, after taking a drunken businessman to Columbus, OH, to see his estranged wife and kids.  He left me on a street corner in Terre Haute, where I dodged beer bottles thrown by kids the rest of the night.

Mid-morning a yellow school bus pulled across the intersection where I was standing, a car pulling a trailer pulling in behind it.  Loma Linda Academy painted on the side.  The door popped open and the driver yelled, “Do you know how to drive this thing?”

I had a middling amount of experience driving dump trucks and such when I was younger, and I was hungry enough for a ride to lie through my teeth.  “Sure thing.  Nothing to it!”  He vacated the driver seat, I took it, and we said goodbye to Terre Haute.

Turned out he was a Baptist minister moving his family to Las Vegas, New Mexico.  He’d contracted with the manufacturer to take the bus to Loma Linda, California, figuring he’d stack the seats in back, load up his belongings in the empty space, and get the hauling expenses paid for by delivering the bus.

Rick Riehardt was his name.  Young, 30ish man with a nice family.  One of several Baptist ministers I’ve met in my life I came to respect and was able to enjoy their company.  But a menace behind the steering wheel of a school bus.

The rear of the bus was loaded with his belongings, forward of that, loose seats stacked, with about half the seats still bolted to the floor, up front.  Rick had a five-gallon jug of KoolAid and a cooler loaded with Bologna sandwiches behind the driver seat.  He was “a loaf of bread and a pound of red” sort of man when it came to eating on the road.

We struck up a salubrious acquaintance as we motored along in that bus, picking up other hitch-hikers as we came to them.  Enough, at times, to fill the intact seats in the bus.  College kids, soldiers on leave or in transit, bums, beatniks, people who didn’t care to admit where they’d been, where they were going. 

One kid who’d just been down south working with SNCC and marching with emerging civil rights movement, marching, getting beat-hell-out-of by redneck sheriffs, getting treated like a stinking step-child by a lot of the blacks he was supporting.

The hitchers rotated on and off the bus as we drove southwest, Rick and my ownself being the only constants, me being the only driver.  We hadn’t gone far before Rick began cajoling me to drive the bus on to California after he’d unloaded it in Las Vegas, re-installed the seats, and he’d leave the family behind.  But I was headed for Portales, New Mexico.  Figured on getting off and heading south at Santa Rosa, well east of Las Vegas.

Eventually I agreed to it because I didn’t think there was a chance in hell he’d get the bus to California in one piece driving it himself.  That, and I was probably hallucinating on KoolAid and bologna sandwiches by that time.

We parted as friends, him offering to buy me a bus ticket back to Portales, me insisting I’d ride my thumb.  Caught a ride in Needles, CA, with four drunken US Marines in a new Mercury Station Wagon on 72 hour pass.  Headed for Colorado Springs.  All they wanted from me was for me to stay sober and awake watching for Arizona Highway Patrol airplanes.  Every time I dozed they’d catch me at it and threaten to put me back afoot.

We made it from Needles, CA, to Albuquerque alive, about 1100 miles in 12 hours.  I was ready for a rest.  Crawled into a culvert and slept until I had my head back on straight enough to stick out my thumb again.

Rick and I used to exchange post cards for a decade or so, but I lost track of him somewhere back there.  Never lost track of the KoolAid and bologna, though.  I still keep it around in my head in case I ever need it.

Old Jules

13 Comments

Posted in 1960's, Adventure, hitch hiking, New Mexico, NM, Portales, Relationships, Transportation, Trucks

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Dragging the Past Around Like a Cotton Sack

Posted on June 16, 2012 by | 6 comments

Until you forgives it, I reckons. 

The Coincidence Coordinators will rub our noses in the alternatives just for the hell of doing it.

I’d stopped into the Office Max store in Kerrville to pick up a cheap flash drive when I saw the little bastard.  He and what I figured must be a lady employ of his [now] were looking over the copying machines, taking notes, asking a clerk questions, frowning and muttering to one another.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, changed positions pretending to look at other merchandise on other counters to get a better view of him.  Shaking my head in disbelief.  He’d put on a bit of weight, hair’d gone gray, but it was Tony.  The very man I used to swear to myself if I ever caught him out somewhere I’d whip his ass until it thundered.

And here he was in Kerrville, Texas.

Shortly after I came into Grants, New Mexico, after I gave myself a Y2K, discovered I couldn’t find a job paying higher than minimum wage, I went to work for Tony.  He was managing the Rodeway Inn, needed a graveyard shift clerk.  I hired on.

During the interview he drifted to personal conversation.  “What kind of music do you like?”

“Old stuff, mostly.  Rock and Roll, pre-1980s CW.  Bluegrass.  Opera, classical.  I’ve got promiscuous tastes in music.”

“Any kind of music you especially don’t like?”

“Yeah.  I never cared for disco, and what passes for country music now drives me nuts.”

I had no idea.

After I’d trained for a week with one of the day shift clerks the place was all mine from 11:00 pm until 7:00 am.  The radio/stereo was locked in the office behind me, but I didn’t have access to it.  Tony’s apartment was back there, too, but the speakers to the radio were in the lobby.

11:00 pm every night I’d report to work, 11:10 pm every night, just so’s I’d know it was deliberate, the volume would go up almost so’s I couldn’t hear anything else allowing me to check in customers.  Modern all night country music station out of Albuquerque.

When they came down to check out early or to grab some breakfast the customers would often get nasty about it, ask me to turn down the racket.  All I could do was shrug.

I got this far writing the draft before I thought of the ‘Bypass Surgery’ post and song.  Thought it might tell some other tales about working in that motel, and about Tony.  But it turns out it might as well be this post played 78 rpm.

Spark and Tinder for the Next Country Music Wave

I suppose I ought to begin all over and tell you some other tales about old Tony, maybe sometime I will.  Because there are a lot of them, and many were codified in letters I wrote to Jeanne while I was working those long nights.  She’s pestered me plenty of times to post some of them here, though some weren’t about Tony. 

Good stories, though.  The night clerk at the other motel Tony managed across the street giving $25 bjs to the customers and Tony’s reaction when it got back to him.  How he got to banging the woman-prisoners from the State Women Prison who worked daytimes cleaning up, and how pissed he was when he discovered they were also screwing the customers.

How he’d rent the ‘suite’ room out a week at a time to the local crystal meth dealer, then spend his time up there rolling #100 bills, the motel register showing the room as vacant and closed for repairs.

But I ain’t going to waste my time telling you all that.  I’m just going to forgive old Tony for being among the lowest scum tyrants I’ve ever met this lifetime, then do my best to forget that entire episode of my life.

Actually, now I think about it, there are a couple that don’t involve Tony I might get around to telling.

Old Jules

6 Comments

Posted in 2000's, America, Grants, Human Behavior, Music, New Mexico, NM, Relationships, Solitude, Survival, Y2K

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Giving the Devil His Due

Posted on June 16, 2012 by | 5 comments

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read.

Before I leave Dennis Tolliver in the dust of history I’m going to share a couple of other anecdotes with you to round out your understanding of the sort of man was, might still be if he’s alive.

During the years I lived in Socorro I’d frequently stop in at Mel’s furniture store for coffee.  Often we’d stroll around the corner to Tolliver’s used car lot for the novelty.  Mel King

Mel and Dennis were close friends and both were trapped in self-images including a strong measure of outlaw-billybadass.  Nothing much was said about it, but it hovered in the background as scenery too solid not to be real.

One day we were huddled in the car lot office when a Navajo from the Alamo Rez came in with a small caliber pistol he offered as a down payment on a truck.  Dennis noted it was loaded with a round in the chamber, examined it and scowled.

Dennis:  This pissant thing?  What the hell do you think I’d want with it? 

He handed it back to the guy.

Navajo:  It’s a good pistol.

Dennis:  Good pistol my ASS.  Shoot me with this damned thing! 

He stood up and threw his arms out to make a better target.

Dennis:  Shoot me anywhere you want to with it!  If I have to go to the hospital I’ll give you the damned truck free!

The guy looked at the pistol, looked at Dennis, seemed to be considering it.  Then he just shook his head, stuffed the pistol under his belt and left.

Dennis:  Bastard was trying to set me up.  If I’d taken that pistol from him I’d have had cops all over this place.  A convicted felon in possession of a firearm!  If that bastard was real he’d have shot me and tried for the free truck.

I was more closely acquainted with a guy who’d grown up with Dennis, who enlisted in the army with him, served with him in Vietnam.  A man who had no use at all for Dennis Tolliver.  One day he explained his reason.

Several years before Dennis did his armed robbery trick in Grants the two of them found themselves in possession of some dynamite and blasting caps.  They were drunk, and went out on the Interstate blowing up traffic barrels, abandoned automobiles, whatever presented itself.

Eventually a police car came over the horizon behind them, lights and siren providing the drama.  Dennis floorboarded the truck, but the cop was on the tailgate in no time.

Dennis:  Light that stick of dynamite and throw it out on him.

The cap was taped around the dynamite stick with electrical tape.  The guy telling me the story said he lit it and tried to throw it out, but it slipped and rolled under the seat of the truck, him fumbling around under there for it.

Dennis, calmly:  You really need to get that out of here or that cop’s going to have us.

Finally the guy found it, tossed it out the window soon enough so’s it exploded outside the truck, blew out all the windows and the truck rolled into the ditch.  Dennis came out unscathed, but my bud got all his hair burned off, ended up in the hospital, then jail. 

Pissed him off royally, because he was charged and convicted for the whole mess, while Dennis walked.  Dennis even testified against him.

“Worthless bastard!” was all he had to say about Dennis.

Old Jules

5 Comments

Posted in 1990's, Human Behavior, New Mexico, NM, Police, Relationships, Trucks

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Harmless Lunatics, Constraints and Contracts

Posted on June 14, 2012 by | 4 comments

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

Back during the last century I used to know a guy in Socorro, New Mexico named Dennis Tolliver, who’d dropped in from some other century and could never quite get the hang of things.   He ran a successful business, worked hard, was considered trustworthy in most ways, even though his business involved selling used automobiles.

In that part of the country everything’s located far enough from everything else to argue compellingly that a person needs a vehicle.  Among the people who went to Dennis to fill their vehicle needs were those who’d proven themselves unworthy of credit.  But Dennis didn’t mind.  He’d sell anyone a car and if need be, he’d carry the note himself.

But even though Dennis was a local legend, even though everyone who bought a car from him knew precisely what to expect, people sometimes wouldn’t make their payments.  They knew Dennis didn’t mind.  He didn’t worry when they fell behind three months.  He’d spot them stopped for a red light, walk up and throw them out onto the pavement, and drive the car back to his lot to sell it again.

A few years before I became acquainted with him Dennis got himself a felony record for armed robbery and resisting arrest.  He was on his way through Grants, New Mexico one Sunday morning and decided he wanted some booze.  Stopped into a grocery store, went through the “NOT SOLD ON SUNDAY” ribbon blocking off the alcoholic beverages section, and took his bottle up to the register.

Clerk:  I’m sorry.  I can’t sell that to you.  I’d lose my job.

Dennis:  Why?

Clerk:  It’s against the law.  They’d fire me.

Dennis:  Hold that thought.

Dennis left the bottle on the counter, went out to his car and brought a Government 1911 Colt .45 out from under the seat.  Went back inside, showed it to the clerk and racked a round into the chamber.

Dennis:  Okay.  The price on that bottle is $7.95.  Here’s $20.  I’m taking it.  You do whatever you need to do.

Dennis settled into his car and took a few swigs while he watched through the store window as the clerk called the cops.  He was on the tarmac opening a can of whupass on the first one that showed up when two more arrived and he was hauled off to the slammer.

As nearly as I could tell the felony record never bothered Dennis, never influenced his behavior in any way.  The police were prone to leave him alone, which was appropriate, because Dennis was a fundamentally honest man.  He lived by his own contracts and promises, and he gave others the benefit of a doubt when it came to living by theirs.

But I’ve digressed.  I was actually going to write a bit about my own lunacies, my contracts with my cats, with my chickens, and the vice grips of necessity and options a person can find himself examining.  Even if he’s a lunatic, a hermit, and lives close to the bone.

At least I never had to be Dennis, or someone else.

But I guess I’ll just have to leave you with Dennis to think about and I’ll mull my own business over in private.

Old Jules

4 Comments

Posted in 2012, New Mexico, NM, Outdoors, Relationships

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Er. . . Um – Physicists Explain Baby Black Holes to One Another

Posted on June 8, 2012 by | 11 comments

Pre-Large Hadron Collider, CERN

http://www.physicsforums.com/showthread.php?t=56569

Chroot:   The type of matter is not relevent at all. All you need to do is to put enough matter into a small enough space that its escape velocity exceeds the speed of light. Viola, you have a black hole.  – Warren

Aki:  Aren’t they presently creating baby black holes in labs right now?
 
J20QU3: I wouldnt of thought so, they may be trying but even for a baby black hole u need a huge mass first.
 
Da Willem:  You only need a huge mass density. But the problem (or I guess we should count ourselves lucky) with baby black holes, is that they evaporate very fast.
 
NANOTEC:   they are creating very very small blackholes, the size of a few protons. the part that is tough, is the sustainability. the minuature black holes created evaporate very very quickly as well. from what i guess, CERN(when finished) will help out with this part of the process.
 
Chronos:  There is reason to believe you need at least a planck mass to form a black hole [whose schwarzchild radius would be a planck length]. The limit may, however, be lower if certain higher dimensional theories are correct. In that case the Large Hadron Collider at CERN may be able to produce them. At present, none have yet been created of any size in colliders, so far as anyone knows. If the planck mass limit [~10E19 Gev] holds, we will never create one.
 
NANOTECH:  How could we benefit from creating these black holes at CERN?
 
Nereid:  I too am curious to know why NanoTech thinks mini-black holes have been created in colliders – AFAIK, there’s nothing in the data from any collisions that even hints at such production. Further, if they could be made in colliders, there’d be plenty of them formed from UHE cosmic ray collisions with N or O nuclei (in the air) – again, no hints of such in all the CR data.Mini-BHs would evaporate through Hawking radiation – at least that’s the theory. As no one has observed a mini-BH, this theory has not yet been directly tested (although it is consistent with a large body of indirect experimental and observational data).
 
Grogs:  You’re probably right about today’s nukes not having the ‘oomph’ to create a black hole. I hadn’t really thrown any numbers into the calculation. Focusing them precisely enough (smaller than the radius of an atom ) would probably be a huge problem too. It would probably still be easier than dragging 3 SM’s of material together, but it’s many, many years down the road, if it’s possible at all.For the sake of comparison (to the 1019 GeV number Chronos mentioned), what energies are the latest and greatest supercolliders producing?
 
————-
 
It’s the thought that counts, I reckons.
Old Jules

11 Comments

Posted in 2012, Relationships, Science, Survival

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