Sleep Deprivation Intermediate Vector
I’m sitting down to write at 4am for the first time in three months (thereabouts) and I’m not considering flea infested furs. If you’ll deliver a plane load of cholera infected passengers to my town in the far off reaches of the South Pacific, and if you’ll also supply a molecular biologist … well, I’ll make mine a parasitic sore that doesn’t make me intimate with sheep. Our animal friends are constantly bombarding me with microbes—and I don’t want any microbes. Why can’t you understand that? I don’t want cat scratch fever either, and I certainly don’t wish to swim in a floating floret pattern like Hernando de Soto and his murder of aquatic crows with laughing sickness—or kuru—if you’d like to be precise. There’s nothing funny here. But when I think about the Picardy sweats my knees buckle and I get the runs. So take your spirochetes and email me from the last calving ice shelf. I’ll hold the pathogens until the morning. Please delouse me thrice daily and we’ll get along like hot Myxomatosis on the spread.
“Climate change is not a financial risk that we need to worry about. Who cares if Miami is six meters underwater in 100 years?”
— Stuart Kirk / HSBC Asset Management