Heat doesn’t go up. Hot air rises because it’s less dense than cold air. You know what’s less dense than hot air though? Vacuum. That’s a good thing, though, because we don’t want to be hemorrhaging atmosphere.

Even if we could build a physical heat sink sticking out of the atmosphere somehow, it would be less protected from solar radiation than anything inside the atmosphere, so if it were facing the sun it probably wouldn’t work.

Even if we had the resources and like, enough readily available materials on Earth to make some sort of retractable heat sink sticking out of the night-side of the planet, it’d probably require more energy consumption to create than would be worth it.

Probably the best way to cool things down is to quit burning so much shit and quit knocking forests down.

This is real. I’ve had folks in my cab that clearly were trying to probe my boundaries to see if I’m an easy target who immediately switched gears the moment I showed my personality. Just because someone is desperate doesn’t mean they want to fuck over someone who’s cool with them and is real. The way you carry yourself makes a difference.

It’s pretty obvious if you meet me in person that I’m a broke artist who cares about real people and detests fake corporate bullshit. That’s not really an appealing target and I have fuck all to give them anyway.

But if some fuck shoots me for being on their street while being trans, or literally just someone they don’t recognize, I don’t get the chance to show how I carry myself.

As a late night cab driver, if you’re ever wondering why I’m on the street rather than the driveway in your sketchy, pickup truck filled suburban neighborhood, this is why.

Give me a shady looking industrial district or run down residential neighborhood over semi-rural suburbia any day of the week. I feel much safer.

I love reading, but the moment an author tries to guilt me into reading their particular viewpoint as though I’m just a slave of the system if I don’t, I check out. I have better things to do, and this person doesn’t have any right to my time.

Does this still happen? The last time this happened to me I think I was about 9 and they couldn’t have been much older. I think I was wearing a 311 shirt. And that was in like 1993 when ‘poser’ was just about the meanest thing you could call someone.