Countries With The Most Venomous Animals - https://t.co/j90hwvrh82
— Brilliant Maps (@BrilliantMaps) January 30, 2022
Countries With The Most Venomous Animals - https://t.co/j90hwvrh82
— Brilliant Maps (@BrilliantMaps) January 30, 2022
According to Neil Price, GudrÃd
— Stone Age Herbalist (@Paracelsus1092) January 31, 2022
Thorbjarnardóttir may have been the most travelled woman in the world in her time. A Greenland colonist, she gave birth to a son in the New World, travelled to Rome on a pilgrimage and became a nun in Iceland. Tasting grapes in Italy and Vinland!
When Dems do it // when GOP does it pic.twitter.com/yggGho8B4T
— Drew Holden (@DrewHolden360) January 31, 2022
Raw "Malachite Crystal". pic.twitter.com/0l13SbCt3m
— Science Club (@scienceClub01) January 30, 2022
“A sure sign that you are living in troubled times: ‘Great! The Germans are re-arming!'”
Public-Sector Unions Face Steep Membership Declines | https://t.co/5gx8VVq7xD
— Charles Bayless (@CharlesBayless) January 30, 2022
Buffeted by Covid-induced economic lockdowns and a Supreme Court ruling that lets government workers decline to join or pay a fee to a union, membership in government labor groups plunged last year. Continuing a trend that began after the 2008–2009 recession, public-sector unions lost 191,000 members in 2021, according to Bureau of Labor Statistics data. The number of government workers enrolled in a union has now fallen below 7 million for the first time since 1998, and 33.9 percent of all government workers are now unionized, down from a high of 38.7 percent in 1994.
De Bekker and I and the reporter for the Sun-paper (I forget his name) attended all these public events together, and since de Bekker was the eldest of the trio, and had a beard to prove it, he set the tone and tempo of our endeavors. If, on an expedition to the iron wilds of Locust Point, he decided suddenly that it was time for a hiatus and a beer, we downed tools at once and made for the nearest saloon, which was never more than a block away. Unhappily, the beers of those days, especially along the waterfront, ran only a dozen or so to the keg, and it was thus sometimes difficult for us youngsters, after two or three of them, to throw ourselves into gear again. At such times de Bekker's professional virtuosity and gift for leadership were demonstrated most beautifully."Why in hell," he would say, "should we walk our legs off trying to find out the name of a Polack stevedore kicked overboard by a mule? The cops are too busy dragging for the body to ask it, and when they turn it in at last, maybe tomorrow or the day after, it will be so improbable that no union printer in Baltimore will be able to set it up. Even so, they will only guess at it, as they guess at three-fourths of all the names on their books. Moreover, who gives a damn what it was? The fact that another poor man has given his life to engorge the Interests is not news: it happens every ten minutes. The important thing here, the one thing that brings us vultures of the press down into this god-forsaken wilderness is that the manner of his death was unusual — that men are not kicked overboard by mules every day. I move you, my esteemed contemporaries, that the name of the deceased be Ignaz Karpinski, that the name of his widow be Marie, that his age was thirty-six, that he lived at 1777 Fort Avenue, and that he leaves eleven minor children."It seemed so reasonable to the Sun reporter and me that we could think of no objection, and so the sad facts were reported in all three Baltimore morning papers the next day, along with various lively details that occurred to de Bekker after he had got down another beer. This labor-saving device was in use the whole time I covered South Baltimore for the Herald, and I never heard any complaint against it. Every one of the three city editors, comparing his paper to the other two, was surprised and pleased to discover that his reporter always got names and addresses right, and all three of us were sometimes commended for our unusual accuracy. De Bekker, I should add, was a fellow of conscience, and never stooped to what he called faking. That is to say, he never manufactured a story out of the whole cloth. If, under his inspiration, we reported that a mad dog had run amok down the Point and bitten twenty children, there was always an actual dog somewhere in the background, and our count of the victims was at least as authentic as any the cops would make. And if, when an immigrant ship tied up at the North German Lloyd pier, we made it known that fifteen sets of twins had been born during the voyage from Bremen, there were always some genuine twins aboard to support us.Thus, in my tenderest years, I became familiar with the great art of synthesizing news, and gradually took in the massive fact that journalism is not an exact science.