all any means

The Yaelong hold power their reach it is long their family systems are tight-meshed and strong. Long ago we'd quarrel o'er land and resources but quickly did learn to combine our small forces into some quick response and some quick action teams who crush all intruders by various means. Their guerrilla tactics we've much added to combining in lessons from Ho Chi Minh too and also from Mao and from Rommel to boot wherefore primed and ready is this armed offshoot. In truth though it makes up the bulk of our guard yet only emerges as a high trump card to mop up the damage done unto such fools who eschew good company's longstanding rules. From trench and from cupola alley and ditch with blood whipped up into a mad fever-pitch will every man woman child et ceterum stand up for to expel from home hearth and womb such Ynki Rus Kossak or Turkmeni brute who should dare on our precious soil set foot. Grigovian weapons and that Yaelong guile should help us keep hold on our freedom a while – for lest we get bombed out like the Nips once got there's nothing can move us from this awesome spot.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

encylopediamericanifesto: phaltweariness - dehydration

  Among the many serious dangers the smog rider faces daily is the risk of dehydration. A condition easy to overlook but deadly if ignored, the body's dehydration distress call resembles closely the distress call it makes to signal hunger; additional telltale signs of dehydration are crankiness and fatigue. A few reports say that within smog rider packs it is common for the incessantly whining and inexplicably binge-eating member to be forced to hydrate by the IPM (the Instant & Perpetual Militia, i.e. the smog-packs' ubiquitous, fully meritocratic agents of enforcement), however our trust in the source for these reports is shaken.

  Multiple trustworthy sources report that when cycling in desert climates the smog rider adjusts his body to the local variances for temperature and humidity, a somewhat risky process in which he trains his body to need less water than it needs in more northern-lying areas. The first step he takes in this process is to eat of the local soil, and to pledge his fealty to the spirits of the land, and to praise the things growing in it, and to celebrate the things scampering across its face (a curious custom akin to the practices of First People tribes). Once he has ingested of the local earth, he cuts back on water gradually until he needs only a liter of it a day, and perhaps a few ounces more if he should exercise vigorously.

  An active person and avid reader alike, the smog rider learned some of the eternal lessons of the desert by reading tales about Rommel and Lawrence of Arabia, tales of Westerners surviving in the desert on minimal amounts of water using methods they learned from the Bedouin people. (In fact, he considers himself deep down an adjunct member of the hard-scrabble group of desert dwelling bad-asses know as the Fremen, from in Frank Herbert's book Dune.)

  But he is not Fremen, and he is not Bedouin – he is a smog-riding street-art vagabond, a man free of scorn and haste whose heart is pure, and in whom there is no room for death.

  Spes Mea In Ratio Est - 場黑麥 John Paul Roggenkamp