Solarpunk

Sell your kids on the black market. Poof! Free time.

And some contemptible people who have more free time and resources than they know that do to with - they must focus all efforts on acquiring more resources AND making it harder for others to catch up.

It would be reason to pity the emptiness of some lives, were they not so destructive.

• I am not talking about people that find their work or their career fulfilling and keep working hard at it. That’s different than a billionaire who spends millions every year to bust unions and prevent raises to the minimum wage. (Or assassinate whistle blowers, as the case may be)

Maybe I'm misunderstanding the picture, but I thought that's why they were called luxuries - because not everyone gets to have them. Though they aren't what we usually associate with a luxurious lifestyle.

E: just to be clear, everyone should have them, but many are too occupied with the daily battle for survival.

Thank you for moving day naps higher on the list.

This. Especially in modern first-world nations. There are plenty of resources for the wealthy to still be wealthy and everyone to have at least economic security.

Didn't go back to look so it doesn't exist

Didn't notice until you pointed it out

Ignoring

Yeah I think it's been found that there is a sweet spot for income and happiness. Having billions of dollars won't make you any happier, but I think it's something around $120K per year that provides everything needed to have a happy life without having to stress much about paying the bills.

Unfortunately the vast majority of people fall way below the level of income needed that's necessary to be able to have a stress free long walk and a good conversation that's not about how to make ends meet, etc.

There's this big male cardinal who lives in my rhododendron. He's not the problem. The problem are the loud, brash younglings who show up and try to muscle in on his territory. They start before dawn, screaming at the top of a tree, making up for their lack of style with sheer volume.

Plus they sound like fucking car alarms. The Big Boy has a gorgeous call, and perches on the fence between the houses to take advantage of the acoustics, and starts at least an hour after dawn because no lady wants to be woken up early by a fuckboy.

He must be back early this year because there's only been one asshole bird who woke me up.

Or when blood has been spilled that night