rotary-club oder speedy-delivery

The Local (Germany’s English language daily digest) reports that a public-private shipping-consortium will be using automated drones to make deliveries to a relatively isolated island in the North Sea to help keep the community pharmacy stocked with supplies. This prototype and trial fights will help lead to logistical-support missions further afield and perhaps to more remote and dire locations.  I wonder how quickly such services, swarms first envisioned by inventor and futurist Nicola Tesla, will catch on—though it’s yet a far-cry, a little disappointingly so (pretty keen but no substitute) from teleporters and being able to beam someone or something somewhere.

crystal habit and structure or read this next

H shared with me an interesting vignette on the German cache for using cash, which is bucking the trend of much of the rest of the world as coin and paper money is exchanged for virtual currency. The article delved into historical and psychological reasons that cash is still king—including bouts of hyperinflation, abrupt transitions to new monetary vehicles, etc., and proved a fascinating primer for the comparative and insightful round-up topical items that Quartz features in really lucid language. You ought to check it out for yourself.

windrose or indian summer

There is nothing quite like the liminal sensation of having stumbled through and ruined the handiwork of an industrious and overly ambitious spider—both for the way it must make one look to others and for the temporary touch of these threads. Over the weekend, H and I were having a drink at an outdoor café.

A old woman sat at a table directly behind me, and she did not linger as long as we did in the sunny and breezy afternoon, and shortly before her departing, I started to feel the fleeting glance of impossibly thin filaments. In the moment, I became convinced that when my back was turned, this witch had slyly cast a webby spell on me.  I felt a bit unnerved that the feeling was not going away, and H told me, on the contrary, that this sort of weather—a burst of an Indian Summer as we would say in English, was called Altweibersommer in German. This name, however, did not refer to the age of woman and any cobwebs that she most assuredly was not dusting off, but rather to the errant filaments of spider-silk, which can appear like long grey hairs and are born in the wind at this time of year. The stray threads are the parachutes—hopefully the discarded lifelines—of the recently hatched young of the tiny bowl-and-doily spiders that carry the broods to all corners. I like the poetic Altweibersommer much better than the other term, which seems a bit morose and disappointed, alarmist and not with a hint of rebirth.

¡refrescante! or double-blind trial

While the usual battle-fields for the Cola Wars are found in public institutions, school cafeterias and workplace cantinas, the competition can involve sometimes much more than just syrup and air-canisters with a whole franchised realm, a vertical monopoly of loyal patrons behind the brand who would never dare sell the competing product.

There, however, is precious little more serious than one’s immortal soul—which are the stakes for tribe in Mexico, who’ve incorporated either one or the other big cola brands into their religious traditions. Convinced that belching helps to release evil spirits, members of the community are willing to pay 50¢ for a bottle of soda—which does not sound bad until one realises that that’s a day’s wage, to augment their purification rituals. Aside from the faithful forgoing food to support the marketing and distribution rivalry between billion-dollar multi-national corporations, there are also the matters of health, fair-labour and responsible water-usage at stake. Realising that they are the momentary playthings of globalism, some communities in Chiapas have boycotted the soft-drinks altogether—though both companies are pretty ruthless about re-establishing market-control.