One of their prison labor programs is for fighting wildfires.

If Harris wins, ideally I’ll do all the things I’ve been putting off until after the election. I’ve been meaning to update the address on my driver’s license, the registration on my car, and several other things like that.

I live in a deep red state; I’ve been paranoid about getting them done, for fear of my voter registration “happening” to get lost in the process. And then I’d finally have an excuse to never visit my hardcore right-wing parents ever again, because my mail won’t be showing up at their house anymore.

If Trump wins, I’m not going to update anything. I plan to flee. I don’t have the means to leave the country, but I’ve got friends in blue states who are happy to take me in. That’s better than nothing, I guess.

I stand by my opinion, which is what it is. An opinion.

That being said, only 2 seasons of The Last Ship had 13 episodes, the rest only had 10 each.

So 56 total epsodes, versus Battlestar’s 76 episodes + 4-hour pilot miniseries + 2 TV films.

Or The Walking Dead’s 177 episodes, just for the original series. Which blows up to 336 episodes and counting, if you include sequels and spinoff shows.

Opinions may vary, but at least from a numbers standpoint, The Last Ship has less potential for filler episodes. If you really wanted to, you could stop watching the show after season 3, and get a complete-enough story. But the show’s main selling point is the action, and it delivers on that front all the way through.

The Last Ship: The crew of a US Navy destroyer is faced with a new reality as a deadly plague wipes out nearly all of humanity.

Basically, mix together the good parts of Battlestar Galactica and The Walking Dead, and distill it down to 5 seasons with no filler. It’s one of my favorite binge-watches.

I was a truck driver a few years ago, working on a dedicated account that had me rapidly experiencing burnout. 14-hour days, sleeping in the truck. I was supposed to work 5 days a week, but more often than not, I’d have to work a 6th day to end up at my house. I technically got weekends off, but I had to go back to work at 12:01 on Monday morning, to stay on time. I was in a death spiral for a while there.

One morning, having overslept, I’d let myself get into a rush, and I’d backed my truck into a parking bollard at my first pickup. Damaged my hood, bumper, mirrors, and a bunch of other important bits. My truck was going to be in the shop for a few weeks, at least.

After my safety department got their pound of flesh, my dispatcher gave me some alternative work in the meantime, covering for an absent driver in a local position. Said position involved doing shuttle runs for a nearby factory, just taking truckloads of their product to a warehouse a few miles away, dropping them off, and bringing empty trailers back to the factory. No appointments, no paperwork, no live unloads. Just showing up and driving, for an hourly wage instead of mileage. 8-hour shifts, without having to sleep on the truck. A diamond in the rough I didn’t even know my compamy offered.

I asked to be moved to that position, and I was instantly approved, since dispatch wanted to replace that other driver anyway. That was late February 2020; shortly after I got acclimated to the new digs, the pandemic hit. I didn’t lose my job; my trucking company kept all of their shuttle drivers on-site at the factory. Said factory only ran a skeleton crew though, not putting out enough product to keep all of us busy. None of the drivers complained though, we embraced getting paid to sit on our asses with open arms.

I’d remove my personal need for sleep, making it completely voluntary. But I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I could use an extra eight hours of free time every day.

Well, my “if I won the lottery” fantasy only requires a few million. One by one, I’d tell my mates to come check out my new place, which turns out to be a condo at Circuit of the Americas. While we’re overlooking my collection of mint-condition shitbox cars that have no reason to be preserved, I’d hand them a check for enough money to wipe out their debts and buy a house… along with a non-disclosure agreement.

Then I’d disappear for a while, taking a road trip around the country without any sort of financial or scheduling concerns. Just show up in a random city, spend a few weeks seeing all the sights at my own pace, then moving along whenever I feel like it.

Going from millions to billions, I doubt I’d deviate from that plan too much. Once I’ve got myself and my mates set for life, I guess I’d set the remaining 4.9 billion pounds aside for any impulse buys, like an F1 team or a couple hundred politicians.

Contingency, from Local58

Emergency broadcasts of any sort, fictitious or no, already put me on edge, but the idea of the US government having one ready to go, specifically to order people to commit suicide to spite some kind of existential threat, is especially chilling.

https://youtu.be/3c66w6fVqOI?si=JsF_-x6A65iwbaC_