iOS app release is almost here, and with it, the chance to contribute. Five task categories will be open to you: Cooking - chop vegetables, stir a pot, plate a dish, season meat, knead dough Cleaning - wash dishes, wipe counters, mop floors, scrub the sink, tidy a room Laundry - fold a shirt, iron pants, hand wash, hang dry Logistics - sort items, arrange shelves, stack boxes, lift and carry Hardware - tighten a bolt, rewire a plug, drill a hole, assemble a frame Pick a category, then record activities that genuinely fit it. Relevant demonstrations make every recording count and maximise your energy. Have you all gotten your head mounts?

Hey there @dangallagher, in the past week you and @vladtenev CEO of Robinhood have made public comments defending your use of and “standing behind” your relatively new Stock Token concept. I think this practice is abhorrent. It defeats the very ethos of share ownership. Public financial markets were created so that companies could raise capital, and so that investors could share in the wealth created as a result. Not to turn investing instead merely into some gamified business-oriented casino. If by your own admission you can’t offer or sell Stock Tokens to “U.S. persons” why does your U.S. web site talk about them so much and so favorably? Vlad: How can a U.S. brokerage firm be proud of creating an offshore Channel Island operation in far off Jersey specifically with the intent to operate outside U.S. securities laws? Is there potential confusion that Stock Token purchasers are getting less than all the rights accorded to real shareholders, and if so do you care? If those tokens are theoretically backed 1:1 by real shares, but hypothetically some of those underlying real shares are in turn lent out to short sellers, are the Tokens really backed 1:1 in fact? Dan: I think U.S. securities laws have protected the public very well over the past century. You spent much of your career at the SEC. Deep down, in your heart of hearts, how can you really think a world without the precautions imposed by U.S. securities laws creates a better, safer environment for investors? Choose whatever descriptors you think best make sense under the circumstances: Non-regulated, derivative, synthetic, sham, debt-backed securities trying to simulate actual real stock, or pick your own words if these don’t fit. Stock Tokens may make you an innovator in your own eyes. In my eyes, they bring your firm dishonor.

GERALD & THE FEATHERED BANDITS — PART I: THE WITNESS As promised, my favorite little creatures, you get two Gerald updates today due to a power outage and my working until 10 PM which quite rudely interfered with the increasingly concerning political development between myself and the flock of organized criminals. And unfortunately... While I was busy dealing with the collapse of modern civilization... Gerald was busy. Now there is something I haven't told you about this story that I now feel was vital information being missed. From the very start of this situation.. we've had a witness. Kitten. My best friend. My confidant. And, apparently, the world's least subtle crow conspiracy theorist. Every meeting between Gerald and I? She's been in the shadows watching. The nut negotiations. The Good Spoon Incident. The underworld factions institutionalization of a black market run by the city's worst Crows. The power-line surveillancing. My coronation into Kingly duties. Gerald's promotion ceremony to General. She was here for it it all. And while the rest of you have been watching this relationship blossom into whatever deeply concerning interspecies military alliance it has become... Kitten has remained suspicious. In fact, she's been publicly warning me. "Gerald has it out for you." "He's plotting something." "You're going to take the fall for whatever he's planning." Naturally, I ignored these concerns, because we are here for the plot development. Gerald is MY General. I am HIS King. We have bonded. Our communications are primarily through humming and prolonged eye contact and head nodding. Trust has been entrenched. This morning, however... Kitten didn't message me...she didn't call me...NOT. A. PEEP. Odd. But not entirely alarming. She does have a life outside of just me. Noon came and still... Nothing. I messaged her. No response. ....Interesting.... Concurrently, Gerald was behaving completely normal. And by "normal," I mean siting on my tree staring through my fucking window. "Morning, General." Hmmm. "Have you seen Kitten?" ... Gerald looked left. Then he looked right. Then directly at me. Hmmm. Suspicious. Suspicious indeed. Before I could give him the third degree, he flew away. Then I noticed something on my porch. There was an object sitting there. A shiny object. So obviously I walked over. It was a key. A tiny fucking key. Next to it sat a note. Now, I don't know how Gerald learned to write. I'm choosing to ignore that particular piece of the lore. I already have enough issues. The note said: TAKE THE KEY. So naturally... I took the fucking key. I KNOW. I KNOW. I CAN ALREADY HEAR YOU ALL SCREAMING. "Bexx, maybe don't blindly follow directions left by a crow who commands a small, but vast militia." Would be excellent advice on your part. Would've also been incredibly useful upwards of thirty seconds earlier. Because the INSTANT I picked it up... sirens. Somewhere nearby. Gerald sat upon on the power line. Then another crow. Then another. Then another. Within seconds the entire fucking army had formed. All staring at me. I looked toward Gerald. Gerald looked toward me. "Gerald..." Hmmm. "What have you done?" He slowly turned his head away. THAT FEATHERED MOTHERFUCKER! Kitten was right. I should have been more weary to listen. GERALD WAS INDEED PLANNING SOMETHING. AND I WAS TAKING THE FALL. I started toward him. "GERALD!" He flew. I followed. Because apparently dignity left my sense of being several chapters ago. I walked through the yard. Climbed over the fence. Trudged behind the shed. And went directly into the woods. Every couple of yards another crow appeared, guiding me further along. Go Left. Go Right. Go Straight. Take another left. Finally... I have come to a door. An actual fucking door. Built into the side of a hill. I stood there staring at it. Gerald landed beside me. "You have a fucking dungeon?" Hmmm. Of course he would. Silly of me to have questioned him. I placed the tiny key into the lock. It fit. Apparently this is my life now. The door opens. Darkness. Cobbled stairs. Torches. FUCKING TORCHES. Gerald has electricity figured out well enough to sabotage mine but chooses TORCHES for an ambient affect. I walked down the cobbled stairs. "Kitten?" Silence. And then... from deep inside the darkness somewhere: "I TOLD YOU GERALD WAS FUCKING EVIL." Oh. My. God. I sprinted toward the voice. And there she was. Behind iron-clad bars. Her hair disheveled looking. Clothes tattered. She is absolutely furious. And pointing at Gerald, who had casually followed behind me. "YOUR FUCKING BIRD KIDNAPPED ME!" "He is not my bird." "HE NAMED YOU KING!" Valid. Gerald flew onto a nearby table. Kitten glared at him. I glared at him. Gerald stared back. Silence. Then... Hmmm. "Don't you fucking 'hmmm' me, Gerald." He nodded toward the cell. And before I could ask what the hell that meant— SLAM. The door to the dungeon behind me closed. I turned around. Another crow stood beside a lever. ... Those clever tiny bastards. I looked towards Kitten. Kitten looked towards me. Then we both looked at Gerald. Gerald puffed his feathers. And then he walked slowly toward us. One tiny, petrifying step at a time. Whatever Gerald had planned... we are officially part of it now. And somewhere above us... the entire crow army began bellowing. END PART I.

Fit for Fury. Notional FQ-44 configurations confirm Fury’s compatibility with a range of munitions, including 500-pound class guided bombs, Small Diameter Bombs, air-launched cruise missiles, rocket pods, external targeting pods, and (many) more. Fight unfair.