Open Letter to Elon Musk from the Future - Justin Vasterling

Open letter to Elonbot from the future regarding the Tesla/Optimus/Agribot4H/Homestead2 model and upgrade V69.5.5

Dear Elonbot.

Great job to team on all bug fix's wrt V69.5:Poultry/Cleaning/Collection-sort.  If you don't mind we are all still going to call her "the old egg breaker', lol.  

I still got notes for you;

*    The Fallback wheel needs a fully exterior circuit.  The brushes and air wall are better suited to a Swiffer than the mud and shit for a cow pen.  The Wheel just drags mud through the wheel-housing and then "Sally" self-retires to the hanger for downtime maintenance/cleaning under the hose gantry.  We got real mud and cow shit problems.  Your Fallback wheel is great, HUGE innovation, scrap the wheel cleaner, the housing, put the wheel on an arm, it does not need to carry a ton of weight, doesn't even need to be fixed.  

*    The Agribot Hanger floor needs to be fully floored with grating.  The water is just everywhere.  37% of all of "Sally's" DownTimeMaintenance is spent cleaning up after herself.  Also, most of what you can do with water you can do with air.

*    KlaketyKlak Feet™ still makes the best "Hoof" for field work.  RubberDumper Convex, Size 2, RubberSteel Cleats = Best aftermarket "Hoof" ever.  Six out of Seven of the Hoofs you Shipped with AgriBot I used once and then went aftermarket.  

*    Sally still does a 'Drunk-whoa' down the stairs every time.  We pinned Recovery/Bal/Mom/OPEN and manually turned off DrunkMode (Oxymoronically named don't you think...), and "Sally" found a new version of RubberBody.MOD, but you really need to spin up my idea WheelKnee.

*    Also, stop shipping Agribots with Denim wear.  None of us let the bots use clothing.  It's hard surfaces only. Just don't want "Sally" doing personal loads of laundry, too much to do out here, and it makes them look poor and retarded.

 *    Aux/Pest/Disposal is fucked.  She keeps burying rats.  I have 60 small shovel mounds out past the mulch pile.  We need a toggle in the Pest/IFF subcategory, or I need Write Permission on some of this, even if it comes with a legal disclaimer.

I guess that's most of it.

Happy to finally see BTC reach 1m, we are celebrating at my place with Root Beer Floats!

PS.  Yes this is my application to come join your Tesla/Optimus Design team.

Justin Vasterling

A Spell For Freedom

 

A Spell for Freedom

 

By the gods of Ink and Bone and blue sky up above.

By gods that see us drink and break what’s left of love.

 

by the streams we wandered in the summer, then in snow

By the time we squandered, fearing, dreading growing old

 

By the light that from your face lit songs of hope in me

By the Oceans, by the Grace, by the ruins in the sea

 

By the candles that we lit, by the deepest scars

By the starry skies that tried to show me who you are.

 

By the fairies and their coin, by ravens and by the crows

By the seasons where we danced through worlds they’ll never know

 

By the flowers, by the stones, by the graves of birds

By the paintings, by the hikes and by the tower of words

 

By the blue wall, the white room and by the black raven’s door

By your pain, by your strength and by your haunted shore

 

By your hair, and by your face, and by your wounded hand

By your oils and by your baths and by your living lands

 

By the love I had and have for you, and everything

That came from you, and let me live, and yet may still bring

 

The two of us to some new spring, or cave, or van or yard

Or river bed, or road or room or prison we must guard

 

By the spells and by the signs and by the strength of fate

By the cards, and by the wards… it is not too late.

 

You are beautiful and still my muse, but mostly you’re my souls friend.

I love you Freedom.  have no fear.  This is not the end.

A history and a dream

 We are not here.  This all happened so long ago, and it happened in the sense that we are listening to the story we are telling ourselves, about who we thought we were, and how we hoped it would be.  But we are somewhere else, watching, listening, to the Deep past while never really being here in the first place.

How do I get to you.  Beyond the reflections, beyond the mirrors that hold my own face, the lights that phantasm otherness, witness me, apparently live.  How do I find you in the horror of my own mind, hold those things there, well or poorly built, but still, efably not you.

The stars are heavy, heavier than all.  Would I find you there?  At the bottom of everything, if I dig, into each fiery heart, forget freedom, let go, fall into where you might be, dive into suns to find you.  I keep the light so distant, not even a breath on my wrist.  I have climbed far to get here alone.