From 8f950025ed8124c9e172478bddd9afd608d42571 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: Navan Chauhan Date: Fri, 7 May 2021 12:55:11 +0000 Subject: [PATCH] Added daily report --- archive-covid-19/07 May, 2021.html | 207 +++++++++++ archive-daily-dose/07 May, 2021.html | 511 +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ index.html | 4 +- 3 files changed, 720 insertions(+), 2 deletions(-) create mode 100644 archive-covid-19/07 May, 2021.html create mode 100644 archive-daily-dose/07 May, 2021.html diff --git a/archive-covid-19/07 May, 2021.html b/archive-covid-19/07 May, 2021.html new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a8f90e --- /dev/null +++ b/archive-covid-19/07 May, 2021.html @@ -0,0 +1,207 @@ + + + + + + 07 May, 2021 + +Covid-19 Sentry + +

Covid-19 Sentry

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Contents

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From Preprints

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From Clinical Trials

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From PubMed

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From Patent Search

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Daily-Dose

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Contents

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From New Yorker

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From Vox

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+Our night with Plymouth Point was a few months ago. Everyone in the group has since finished their vaccination regimens, so if we want to hang out together in person, we can. And right now, I’d much rather see my friends in person than in a box on my computer screen, especially since I’m tired of looking at this screen and sick to death of the word “Zoom.” +

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+But as we near the point of some return, I’ve been thinking about things that might be fun to keep doing even after we have the choice to go out or stay in. When I’m no longer forced to do everything on a screen, what might still merit that kind of engagement? +

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+And one possible answer, for me, is Zoom-based theater. +

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+There is no universe in which I (or anyone who works in, writes about, or loves theater) wants to see virtual plays and performances replace the electricity of an in-person show. However, there are some upsides to experiencing a play or show through a medium such as Zoom. It’s accessible to people who might otherwise be unable (or prefer not) to travel to a theater and sit in a creaky seat for two hours. It gives directors a chance to innovate inside the restraints the medium creates. +

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+And, in the case of an interactive experience like Plymouth Point, it offers a different way to connect with friends who don’t live nearby. I can’t give a friend from graduate school an extra ticket to an off-Broadway show; they all live on the other side of the country. None of my family lives close to me. Plenty of those who do have small children or other responsibilities that make it harder to get together in person. +

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+Sure, we can get on the phone and chat (or text; we’re millennials, after all). But one way people build friendships is through doing things together, not just talking to one another. There’s a surprisingly low number of activities available to long-distance friends. And that can make keeping those friendships alive, especially when time or money are short, pretty tricky. +

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+One odd hidden blessing of this enormously terrible year is that we’ve been forced to reimagine what long-distance friendship can look like, because for those taking Covid-19 precautions, all friendships became long-distance. That long-distance element will mercifully lessen as the pandemic wanes; I personally hope to never hear the term “Zoom happy hour” again, and would like to attend weddings and baby showers in person instead of watching them on a screen. +

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+And yet, some version of experiencing art and togetherness through the internet might be worth maintaining. I would happily set up an hour to hang out with faraway friends in the future to play a game, watch a live show, or experience a work like Plymouth Point. I want to see my relationships flourish through having fun together, beyond just sharing memes and snark on the group chat. I can’t say having those options available now is a gift from this time, exactly, since a deadly pandemic doesn’t really leave gifts behind. +

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+But if it’s a way to snatch joy from the jaws of misery, to prove that human ingenuity finds a way to give life in the middle of frustration and sadness, well, sign me up. +

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+Tickets for Plymouth Point, The Mermaid’s Tongue, and The Kindling Hour are available at their respective websites. +

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+For more recommendations from the world of culture, check out the One Good Thing archives. +

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+But this brutality is deemed necessary to satisfy an economy based around consumer demand wherein everything must be available for consumption all the time, which brings us to the next reason for the chicken wing shortage. If the market requires 10 percent more chicken wings to satisfy new consumer demand in perpetuity, that means 10 percent more overgrown chickens that will never see the sun. That means billions more electrified bodies and cut throats, trillions more feathers scalded off. +

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+As national and regional chains rushed to meet the demand of the pandemic delivery market, a natural first inclination was to add chicken wings to the menu. In conjunction with the push to support locally owned businesses and struggling bars, demand for chicken reached its highest levels in years, and reserves are at the lowest levels seen in a decade. To the average person, this factor alone doesn’t really matter. But when you consider that massive corporate chains with more buying power than your local bar are now competing for and snapping up the same wing stock, the effect is higher prices at local spots you love and stable prices at lesser wing providers. Try as they might, franchises simply can’t compete with local dives on taste or atmosphere, as even the best food offerings at franchises are often nothing more than an echo of the original dish they were modeled after. +

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+Wholesale prices have increased dramatically since before the pandemic started, and it’s hitting small businesses — primarily independent bars — the hardest. No bar menu is complete without chicken wings, but nobody wants to spend twice the usual price for a dozen. That leaves bars with a choice: Pass the cost onto customers to keep everything running smoothly, like my local bar, or eat the cost by charging the same amount and essentially losing money on every plate of wings that leaves the kitchen. For massive corporate chains that regularly feature loss leaders on their menus, this is less of an issue. For independent kitchens with already paper-thin margins, the choice becomes more perilous. +

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+This is why those damp wings with the limp roasted meat from national pizza chains are the same price, while your local place has either discontinued wing night or made it such that it doesn’t really feel like you’re getting a deal anymore. We’ve allowed the brands to lead us into a hell where independent restaurants may have to start charging “market price” for a plate of buffalo wings, as if they were Maryland blue crabs. And the planet reaps irreparable damage as a result. +

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+The rapaciousness of business isn’t limited to wings; the market regularly runs rampant over the things we profess to want. Every push for a new electronics release, for example, ramps up lithium production, which then ramps up mining efforts, which causes everything from labor abuses to international coups to help preserve favorable trade arrangements for the US. Fortunately for all of us, that tension is hidden deep within our fitness trackers or our phones or our vape rigs. To us it’s just a battery, and any apparent suffering to bring it into being happens far away from our wrists and pockets. This is less true with something like a dead animal, where any shortage and requisite ramped-up effort to meet consumer demand has a 1:1 (or greater, when factoring in labor conditions and the exponential increase in greenhouse gases) relationship with death. +

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+The local price increases and subsequent rabbit hole have reintroduced the creeping sense of unease I have with my relationship to my food, or my relationship to our economy. Silly as it may seem, the shortage in chicken wings has reminded me that even in my flailing attempts to prop up a local business, I’m contributing to forces I’d rather turn my back on. And while poultry production plants across the country scramble to meet shifting consumer demand and ensure further environmental disaster, the United States will continue to have a food surplus from the damage already sowed. And the feeling we’ve been duped will persist; since the pandemic began, it’s been hard to shake the feeling that our economic system is more than smoke and mirrors. The US has been producing enough housing and food and wealth to give all of its people the dignity and quality of life they deserve, but it chooses to bow to the whims of “markets” and fail the people instead. +

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+Production will ramp back up and a scarcity will soon become a surplus, making consumers and brands and bars happier than they should be. I’m still looking forward to late summer or fall, when wing night returns just in time for a vaccination rate that’s high enough to allow me back into a bar with friends, a plate of cheap wings and watery ranch sitting next to a club soda. Each bite and each plate will remind me of the other nights, the flash of warmth in the base of my skull, and with it something new that I can’t quite place — something I’m probably still too cowardly to confront. Normal, but never the same. +

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From The Hindu: Sports

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From The Hindu: National News

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From BBC: Europe

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From Ars Technica

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From Jokes Subreddit

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