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The Imperatrix Desiderata

Can't fool old friends with limosuines

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Let's set the existence-of-god issue aside for a later volume, and just stipulate that in some way, self-replicating organisms came into existence on this planet and immediately began trying to get rid of each other, either by spamming their environments with rough copies of themselves, or by more direct means which hardly need to be belabored. Most of them failed, and their genetic legacy was erased from the universe forever, but a few found some way to survive and to propagate. After about three billion years of this sometimes zany, frequently tedious fugue of carnality and carnage, Sharmin was born. Like every other creature on the face of the earth, Sharmin was, by birthright, a stupendous badass, albeit in the somewhat narrow technical sense that she could trace her ancestry back up a long line of slightly less highly evolved stupendous badasses to that first self-replicating gizmo--which, given the number and variety of its descendants, might justifiably be described as the most stupendous badass of all time. Everyone and everything that wasn't a stupendous badass was dead.
(My greatest apologies to Neal Stephenson. Really. I'm sooo sorry. It's from the opening of Cryptonomicon)

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My last.fm Top Artists. A bit skewed, but fun anyway!