没意思是指，实体水南水“北”调和虚拟水“北”水南调中的“北”并不完全重合，对于东北这个重要产粮区尤其如此。

说东北和内蒙有点没意思了。毕竟南水北调主要的接受方是京津冀和河南。东北自己有水……。

而且从缺水地区把虚拟水送往其他地区并不少见。例如澳大利亚出口不少粮食。尽管正是因为缺水和缺肥澳大利亚的小麦亩产只有中国一半不到，英国三分之一，爱尔兰四分之一的样子。无他，农业发展除了水还需要很多别的因素。而水除了种粮也有很多别的用处。

说韩国的话，我觉得对中共来说，等朝鲜犯贱然而进攻朝鲜更好。毕竟进攻朝鲜胜算大。而且这样可以在不损失国内政治声望的情况下和西方合作。同时占领不少道义高地。现在中国国内舆论不太允许和西方合作。西方也是。但是朝鲜问题很可能成为一个潜在的合作点。

而且反正中共看朝鲜不顺眼也不是一两天了。中俄友谊可以宣，中朝友谊没人宣的。而且据我所知在过去十年内就有过进攻朝鲜的军演。

要是用的好，能把朝鲜做成一个官方无核的中共傀儡，那中共可以被续很久命了。

我虽然小学就搬回了英语国家，但是因为在家不说英语，所以一般也自视英语说得还行的英语第二语言用者。我觉得学英语主要是一开始学会一些基本的语法点（否则一个词换了tense都不认得）。之后就是锻炼“把话说清楚”的能力，一句话有SVO之类，虽然我自己说活快的时候也时常不跟着这一条。然后就是多看想看的东西了。不想看的东西怎么样也是看不懂的。如果是小朋友，还要注意看和年龄及理解力相符的文字。刚上中学的小朋友就好好看这么《少年维特的烦恼》，看什么《了不起的盖兹比》，大概只能看出那个电影改编版(2013)的导演的水平来……。

取决于你对“玉”和“宝石”的定义了。要是说只有矿物晶体才算的话，那中国市场常见的玉都不算（因为他们不是矿物晶体）。要是说大家喜闻乐见，赋予“高”价值的石头都是宝石的话，那毛利人和玛雅人也挺喜欢用绿色的，而且矿物上和中国常见的玉成分类似的石头做装饰物，但是就不知道有多少中国人认为这是“玉”。当然，要是你的“大家”只包含了西方人的话，那“玉”确实只在中国算宝石，因为传统来说西方人可不会给中国玉赋予什么高价值……。

但西方这个想法还是很危险的。中国一向的设想就是会和西方打全面战争。西方自然也应该以应对全面战争的态度去做准备。这次应该俄罗斯的工业水平就搞成这样子。俄罗斯的工业水平就算是重工业也是要大量外购核心零部件的，包括不少来自中国的。当然乌克兰更不行就是了。我曾经了解过一个乌克兰工业投资项目，希望吸引“工业发达国家”的人才，例如………………印度。

而且那篇文章说得很对的一点，就是，基础的炮弹产量，考验的就是mass production的水平。你不太指望一个生产热水器都要比别人贵二十倍的国家能造出大量便宜的炮弹的。以这次西方的表现，我严重怀疑西方工业界vs中国工业界时，会被中国的工业能力淹死。

而且西方对这个事情似乎完全不上心。甚至对reshoring也三心二意。现在应该是重建西方工业最好的时候。但是不少人对买到东南亚组装（甚至西方组装）的中国货就足够满意了…………。

西方正在挣扎着打造一个新的民主兵工厂

武器的生产将增加，但对于未来的冲突以及乌克兰来说可能太慢了

2023年2月19日 宾夕法尼亚州斯克兰顿

“我是一名炸弹技术员。”在宾夕法尼亚州斯克兰顿陆军弹药厂的一把椅子上，挂着的T恤衫上写道。“如果你看到我在跑，赶紧跟上。” 但事实上，是这些炸弹技术员在努力追赶，因为美国将大量的弹药转移到乌克兰，用于与俄罗斯的战争中。斯克兰顿的工厂生产m795型155毫米榴弹炮弹的钢壳。美国在过去一年中向乌克兰提供了超过100万枚这种炮弹。但即使是如此庞大的弹药数量也是不够的。乌克兰在一个月内发射的炮弹数量大约相当于美国一年的产量。

制造炮弹的过程是相当复杂的。厚厚的、20英尺长的实心钢筒首先被切割成短小的钢坯。然后，它们在一个炉子里被加热到2000华氏度（超过1000摄氏度），挤压成更长的圆柱体，冷却并挖空。一端被 "鼻 "成精确的圆锥体形状--为军队监督工厂的里奇-汉森将这一过程比作把可乐罐顶切割下来，并将剩余部分挤压成一个狭窄的点，而不留下任何皱褶。他指出，任何不完善的地方都会导致射弹偏离目标。

涂装完毕后，完成的钢壳会被运到爱荷华州的另一个军用设施，炸药在那里装上。大约还有十几个部件来自同样多的地方，才能制成一发成品的、可随时发射的榴弹炮弹。事实证明，将这一供应链用于生产更大数量的炮弹是令人惊讶的困难。

与将军们一样，军事规划人员总是在打上一场战争。西方国家打的上一场战争是针对伊拉克、阿富汗塔利班和伊斯兰国。伊拉克是一个在技术和战术上完全不占优势的中等规模的军事强国。其他战争（包括第二次伊拉克战争的后续）则是反叛乱。它们不是军事能力相差无几的国家之间的战争，更不是大型国防工业之间的战争。

至少在过去的五年里，军事规划人员一直在口头上表示，未来发生这种冲突的可能性越来越大，例如在欧洲与一个反动的俄罗斯发生冲突，或者在太平洋与一个试图入侵台湾的中国发生冲突。但这种说法并没有反映在基本弹药的储备上，也没有反映在对一种能满足持续超过数周的冲突的弹药需求的工业能力的投资上。

乌克兰的战斗令人不快地提醒我们，高强度战争会以非同寻常的速度吞噬军火，而西方自1945年以来就没有真正经历过这样的战争。在第一次世界大战中也有类似的教训，当时法国人仅在开战六个星期后就面临炮弹短缺，英国人和德国人也很快面临着炮弹短缺。这场军火危机导致了英国政府在1915年的倒台。正如历史学家休-斯特拉坎（Hew Strachan）所观察到的，开始时是一个军事问题，很快就变成了一个工业问题，然后是一个政治问题。

随着俄罗斯和乌克兰军队的胶着，冬季的战争已经进入了炮火对射的阶段。乌克兰人估计，他们每天要承受约20,000发炮弹和火箭弹。他们设法在大多数日子里保持了约5000-6000枚炮弹的还击--类似于战前一个北约较小成员国的年度采购量--尽管由于双方都在寻求节约弹药，这种轰击可能正在减少。

乌克兰可能已经用掉了大部分苏联式火炮需要的152毫米和122毫米炮弹，因此现在越来越依赖北约国家提供的155毫米炮弹和火炮。但其西方盟友所持有的、迄今为止一直由其提供的库存正在迅速耗尽。美国已经开始发送射程较短的105毫米榴弹炮和炮弹，以弥补大口径炮弹的不足。

乌克兰很快就会依赖美国和欧洲军火工业所能制造的东西（加上美国从亚洲的盟友那里搜罗的一些炮弹，比如韩国，韩国有相当大的军火工业，但有严格的出口规定）。目前，美国每年可以制造大约18万枚155毫米炮弹，而根据智囊团国际战略研究所的巴斯蒂安-吉格利希（Bastian Giegerich）的说法，欧洲去年生产了大约30万枚。总的来说，这仅相当于乌克兰三个月的消耗量。

信号弹

多年来，警告信号一直在闪烁。2011年，在对利比亚的轰炸行动中，欧洲国家在几周内就用完了精确炸弹，不得不由美国进行补给。在将伊斯兰国赶出伊拉克和叙利亚的行动中，美国的智能炸弹数量之少令人担忧。

《防务分析》通讯的编辑弗朗西斯-图萨(Francis Tusa)认为，北约的欧洲成员的弹药储备可能仅够一场在欧洲的战争的早期阶段的10%。他估计，建立德国的库存以满足30天的高强度战争的成本将是200亿欧元（210亿美元）。德国总理奥拉夫-肖尔茨(Olaf Scholz)已承诺在未来几年内增加1,000亿欧元的国防开支，但其中没有任何一笔资金被指定用于弹药。

问题的部分原因是，政治家和士兵都倾向于优先购买 "平台"，例如船只和飞机，而不是它们发射的弹药。前五角大楼官员埃里克-范宁（Eric Fanning）说："你不能购买一艘船的十分之九，"他现在在游说团体航空航天工业协会工作，"但你可以购买十分之九的导弹数量。" 弹药因此成为武器采购的 "买单者"，智囊团cnas的Stacie Pettyjohn解释说。

美国和欧洲的大型国防承包商往往只有一个买家：其本国政府。"当我走进一家五金店时，我总是能买到一把锤子，因为有很多客户需要它。但在国防工业中，当政府停止购买某样东西时，它就消失了。"范宁先生说。

即使是仍在生产的武器，军火公司也会根据他们预期要生产的东西来调整其产能。"美国最大的国防集团洛克希德-马丁公司（Lockheed Martin）的老板吉姆-泰克莱特（Jim Taiclet）说："我们的国防工业基础是以在和平时期时最高效率为目标的。这实际上意味着，承包商通常仅有能力以补充训练消耗所需的速度来制造弹药。

西方政府和国防承包商现在正争先恐后地增加他们的产量。这种急于求成的情况与covid-19的早期有异曲同工之妙，当时各国发现他们几乎没有任何防护服或呼吸机的储备。不幸的是，与橡胶手套和口罩相比，建立武器的生产线和供应链需要更长的时间。美国陆军的采购主管道格-布什（Doug Bush）说，五角大楼已经从大流行病的经验中吸取了教训，以前所未有的速度签发合同，并给工业界一个明确的 "需求信号"。同时，国会已经授权更多地使用多年期合同，以使军火公司对这种需求有更大的确定性。然而，直到现在，这种合同主要用于昂贵的飞机、船舶或坦克，而不是它们发射的弹药。钱也正被用于疏通生产瓶颈。

爆炸性增长

布什先生说，由于这些努力，"毒刺 "肩扛式地对空导弹的产量将增加六倍（从非常低的水平）；"标枪"（有助于阻止俄罗斯人最初的进攻的反坦克武器）的产量将增加一倍；"海马斯"发射器也是如此，它们在乌克兰也证明了其有效性，摧毁了远在前线后面的武器库、指挥所和营房。

由于五角大楼在得克萨斯州建立了另一条生产线，并向加拿大的一家公司发出合同，155毫米炮弹的产量将增加三倍，甚至可能增加六倍，达到每年100多万枚。但大部分额外的产能要到2024年甚至2028年才会出现。"我认为美国经济有能力，而且知道如何做到这一点，"布什先生宣称。"这只是一个时间问题。这并不是一件新鲜事。第二次世界大战和朝鲜战争中的工业动员也需要时间。"

在欧洲，一个类似的过程正在进行中。德国莱茵金属公司的老板Armin Papperger说，他的公司可以迅速将产量从每年7万枚提高到45万枚或更多，在他最近收购西班牙的弹药生产商Expal Systems之后。莱茵金属公司还在匈牙利建立了一个新的弹药厂。捷克武器制造商csg去年生产了10万枚炮弹，希望今年能将其产量提高到15万枚。一家挪威公司Nammo也可能增加产量。前华沙条约国甚至在考虑重新开厂生产152毫米弹药，以便乌克兰能够继续使用其苏联火炮。

但是，尽管谈及紧迫性，欧洲政府并没有签署很多采购合同。Papperger先生说，他准备为加速生产炮弹和导弹所需的一些投资进行 "预先融资"，但在没有确定订单的情况下，私营公司的做法是有限的。

与此同时，乌克兰现在就需要武器，以抵御俄罗斯的进攻，并发动自己的反攻。炮弹是最紧迫的需求，但制导弹药，特别是标枪和毒刺的快速耗尽，可能会在未来造成更大的问题。据美国智库战略与国际研究中心（CSI）的马克-坎西恩（Mark Cancian）称，即使按照新的加速生产速度，取代乌克兰已经收到的8500枚标枪也需要近七年时间。至于 "毒刺"，乌克兰已经收到的数量与过去20年除美国所有买家的数量相当（1,600）。五角大楼可能会为自己订购更先进的替代品，而不是 "毒刺"，但取代乌克兰已使用的 "毒刺 "将需要六年多的时间。

问题的根源在于国防工业的脆弱性。在美国和欧洲，供应链的状况可能出奇地不透明，甚至对制造武器的主承包商和订购武器的政府部门也是如此。困难往往潜伏在第二和第三层的供应商中。它们往往是高度专业化的小企业。由于向武装部队提供设备需要严格的认证，以及与国防部做生意的其他特殊性，新公司的进入壁垒很高。这意味着武器中的特定部件往往只由一家公司生产，从而提高了故障的风险。瓶颈问题包括劳动力、半导体、工具、子部件等的短缺。

对于旧技术，如155毫米炮弹，增加产量的主要障碍就是工业能力，特别是锻造和加工炮弹外壳所需的机器。此外，还需要提高炸药的供应量：imx-101炸药只在美国的一家工厂生产，而tnt则需要进口。

同时，对于制导弹药来说，众多的部件造成了许多潜在的限制。仅仅是一两个部件的短缺，就会阻碍整个类型武器的生产。如果一个简单的支架制造商倒闭了，新的供应商必须得到认证，其产品必须经过兼容性测试。武器的芯片--通常要求能够承受极端的高温、湿度和振动--是一个长期的头痛问题。问题通常不是最先进的半导体，而是可能已经停产的旧芯片。五角大楼的一位官员指出："没有现成的替代品"。例如，增加毒刺导弹的产量，需要重新设计导弹的某些部分，以便它能够使用较新的芯片。

导弹制造商们特别关注的是火箭发动机的短缺问题。在美国只有两家公司为小型导弹制造发动机。一家是诺斯罗普-格鲁曼公司的子公司。另一家是Aerojet Rocketdyne公司，该公司已经成为几次收购的对象。大型武器制造商雷神公司的老板格雷格-海斯更将其描述为供应链中的一个 "薄弱环节"。然而，建立一个替代供应商可能需要几年时间。火箭推进剂又是另一个担忧。

五角大楼负责采购的副部长比尔-拉普兰特（Bill LaPlante）说，美国在购买武器时将越来越多地考虑到包括储备产能。"我们必须接受这样一个事实，即我们所建造的东西可能不会被使用。" 行业高管指出，只要有远见，储存工具比重新建造工具更便宜。但最终，储备产能有其代价；保持明天快速制造武器的能力意味着今天购买更昂贵的武器。

拉普兰特先生还希望工业界采用更加标准化、模块化的设计，以实现类似于消费电子产品的即插即用能力。他指出，大多数精确武器都有三个主要元素：一个探测目标的传感器；一个指挥和控制系统，无论是算法还是 "回路中人"；以及一个 "效应器"，即摧毁目标的弹头或其他装置。如果这些部件之间的接口可以标准化，那么随着武器的改进或新武器的开发，这些部件可以很容易地被替换。

拉普兰特先生说，提高韧性的第三个方法是美国与盟国更紧密地合作。他们可以合作制定共同标准，在多个国家生产武器并共同开发新的武器。例如，澳大利亚将与美国和英国合作开发高超音速导弹，并正在考虑为其正在购买的海玛斯火箭炮制造弹药。业内人士说，挪威的Nammo公司可能成为美国火箭发动机的第三个来源。

但是，标准化和联合采购是困难的，当他们试图跨越国界时就更难了。欧洲防务局成立于2004年，旨在促进欧盟成员之间的合作。但它没有权力，只能依靠劝说。只有大约18%的欧盟国防采购是合作性的。

争夺业务的国防公司希望保留其独特的技术；反过来，各国也希望保护他们认为是国家冠军的东西。尽管乌克兰对来自任何地方的武器都心存感激，但它不得不应对一个混合搭配的武器库，其中的每一个不兼容都会增加后勤工作的复杂性。一位欧洲国防部长指出："我们正在向乌克兰输出我们的碎片化，"。

如果国家与国家之间的战争仅仅是敌对双方工业能力的较量，那么欧洲和美国的经济实力应该足以应对像俄罗斯这样的敌人，或者如果到了那一步，中国。即使在调整了生活成本之后，俄罗斯的经济也比德国的小。欧盟和美国加起来很容易就超过了中国。但自由民主国家比专制政权需要更多时间将其经济置于战争模式，而且更不愿意这样做。

俄罗斯的军工厂并不在等待与克里姆林宫谈判合同；他们已经在日夜不停地工作。制裁可能会阻碍他们购买精确弹药所需的微处理器（因此有报道称，俄罗斯的盟友，如哈萨克斯坦，一直在接受西方家用电器的巨额订单，以剥离它们的芯片并将其转给俄罗斯军火公司），但很少有人会打赌俄罗斯会凑不够下一次进攻和下下一次进攻的炮弹。普京先生无疑赞同斯大林的箴言："数量有其自身的质量"。

至于中国，在过去20年里，它一直在建立世界上最大的精确制导陆基导弹储备。它想阻止美国的海上和空中力量，特别是航母编队，在中国的封锁或入侵台湾期间救援台湾。为了制衡中国的武器库，美国将需要大量的远程精确导弹库存，以便从中国强大的防空系统范围之外威胁中国的海军部队。

这些远程精确导弹并不是被送往乌克兰的那种武器，所以帮助这一个美国盟友的努力并不危及另一个盟友的安全。但美国仍然没有足够的远程精确导弹。CSIS模拟了一场与中国争夺台湾的冲突，在这场冲突中，美国在不到一周的时间内耗尽了其库存的远程反舰导弹。今年，五角大楼计划只购买88枚此类导弹。CSIS的Seth Jones指出，目前生产大部分相关弹药需要两年时间，而且这个时间是针对第一批导弹的交付，而不是最后一批导弹。

中国也会在这场战斗中遇到困难吗？中国拥有庞大的制造能力，对私营企业颐指气使，更不用说国有企业了。它也有决定何时入侵的优势。

战争的胜利或失败有各种原因。领导力、战术、士气、后勤和技术都发挥了作用。但在对方耗尽弹药前耗尽自己的弹药绝不是一个胜利的策略。

这篇文章出现在印刷版的简报部分，标题是《保持枪声》。

以上淘宝上应该都有，可以试试……

我中文不好，挑认得的看的话，原因基本就是字面意思。注射药我猜是担心不会用/缺乏保存条件容易出事（虽然实体药店出售也会有一样的问题）。（二）里面的基本上是易成瘾/制毒。（三）是易滥用的兴奋剂之类。（四）就是字面上的，用药风险较高（毒性，副作用，以及抗药细菌一类）。

赞同无论是清零还是共存，两边都要算QALY loss。清零的QALY loss未必会比共存高。但是中国式清零的QALY loss比有必要的高是肯定的。毕竟他们连静默演习都能搞出来…………。

医疗资源的部分，仅看ICU是不可以的。不少人会需要住院，但是还没到需要ICU。以及我们也会triage ICU referrals，一些病人处于需要进，但是不是百分百需要进的，可能会被拒绝。同时我们可以通过暂停elective surgery来减少一些post op ICU/HDU admission（另外多余的手术室本来就是绝佳的临时ICU）。所以ICU不会是第一个爆的。我经验看来第一个崩溃的往往是A&E，因为他们不能拒绝任何人。但是实话说，不少A&E就算是没有COVID，都是要崩溃的状态（尤其在不少被忽视的社区）。COVID让一切都更糟糕了一点。中国不知道会不会统计急症等待时间，或者elective admission等待时间之类的（一般是癌症相关或者手术相关）。

以及新冠的最大问题是让本来不该死的人死了。老年人就算不会新冠死，也会有其他一千种死法。但是中年人可不是。提高13.4%的死亡率对中年人可不算很好的消息。但是当然，这要和封城（尤其是中国式的做法）造成的QALY loss比，因为他们也是被封城打击得最重的。

另外炒冷饭/t/19120

其实我觉得大可不必怎么失望。我感觉中文里面“自由派”其实就是对所有对现在共产党不满的一个大帐篷。里面的人虽然都不喜欢共产党但是对于要建立怎样的社会，是有很多不一样的想法的。就“人权”，“自由”，“反共”而言，相信AOC/Bernie Sanders/拜登/特朗普/田纳西村民甲/西雅图路人乙/Greta Thunberg，都能或多或少的划入“自由派”。但是这里面你不可能每个都喜欢的。而且如上所说，这里面很多只是“路人/村民”而已，随机抽一个估计都有一半几率比你笨。所以就不要操心其他人太多。

港台我可以多说一句。就是你要考虑到现实社会里面的power imbalance。你要是和一个香港人一对一，你自然会很困惑为什么你什么都没有干，但是他会讨厌你。但是对他来说，你多少是一个来自压迫政权的人，在香港社会结构里面，你们不是来自平等的群体。你的说你的语言是值得倡导，他说他的语言却是推动港独需要被打击。你不需要了解他的历史，而他却要在历史课上学必修。自然的你会被下意识的看作压迫者的一份子 - 尽管在不了解你的时候就下结论是不对的。就像满洲的村民讨厌日本殖民者，或者澳洲的原住民讨厌白人一样。

@庆丰包子香 #191869 这不就观网/CCTV日常嘛。他们自己做新闻的能力就是一个垃圾，只会搬运民主国家反对派来论证国外水深火热。

@natasha #191558 那得请tash姐帮忙了……

原文

变种病毒

变种产地方面，我乌鸦嘴中了南非。但是却把印度忘记了。delta的时候我似乎被严重打脸了，直到omicron出来挽尊……。

新冠病毒作为RNA病毒，不断产生新变种是肯定的。没有变种才是新闻。每一次复制都会有变异的机会。更多的传播就意味着更多的变种。当然，有一些过程可以加快变异 - 例如直接从其他病毒那里获得一小段基因（具体请自行搜索recombination）。而现在我的怀疑是免疫缺陷是出现新的，大变化的主要推动。人-动物之间的传播虽然有不少证据，但是相对的重要性我的gut reaction是没那么高。不过有不少人以此为证据来杀猫杀狗杀宠物，唉……。

基于生物学101，目前能流行的变种，都是要适应现在的免疫地景的。因此，目前占比领先的变种都会有逃逸疫苗和之前的感染带来的免疫力的能力。但另一方面，这不代表他们在没有疫苗/之前感染的人群里面，比其他变种更具优势。因此，中国占比领先的变种未必会是在世界其他地方占比领先的变种。注意我不是在说那些变种会在中国传播得更慢，我只是在说他们未必会是最快的而已。

变种的速度也是挺值得关注的。现在看来，病毒的变异速度比药品或者疫苗的研发速度要快的多（想想当初让印度烧尸体，澳新放弃清零的delta，大概也只风流了半年）。抗体类的药物翻车率可以说是惨不忍睹。BA1还能用的药BA2就彻底没用的例子是有的。疫苗相对来说还暂时配不上惨不忍睹这四个字。但是如果我们还在继续用现在这些针对原始株的疫苗，那惨不忍睹也只是时间问题。我印象中看到过一些报告，指现在的疫苗最后一针三个月后对BA5，针对住院的保护力和没打疫苗已经非常接近了。mRNA疫苗的研发速度快优势，似乎没有很好的体现出来。

疫苗

如上所说。疫苗效果在变种横行的情况下，有多强真的需要打一个问号。之前的assessment是真的太乐观了……。我自己是去年十一月初打的booster，现在看到攀升的covid数字，出门戴口罩都认真了不少……。指望光靠疫苗能分出prevalence不同的地区，是真的想太多。

不过可以肯定的说，目前来看，benefit还是显著outweigh risk的。能打还是先打了吧。我的感觉是，现在不打booster等之后的omicron-specific 疫苗不是一个好策略。毕竟这新疫苗现在看来也不是未来半年内会出来的样子……。

不过另外一边，我认为强制疫苗可能会消停一会。我认同一些职业把疫苗作为一个前置要求。但是我不赞同在所有人里面搞强制。以现在的保护力，搞强制的意义可能是真不太大。

现在看来，之后不断需要额外booster的可能性还是挺大的。COVID早期的时候，英国的宣传基本上是“封城没有用，疫苗才是唯一出路”。这对英国后面的高疫苗接种率有很大的帮助（尤其是和相对更少类似宣传的欧洲大陆比）。但是当初说打两针，没多久就要booster，然后fully boost的goal post移个好几次。最后说不定一年一针。民众可这么好的耐心。阴谋论和misinformed的言论也会渗入。这从英国的booster uptake（比前两针低非常多）就能看一点问题了。之后会不会因此导致更严重的疫情，没有人知道。

国内活动和边境限制

边境限制一块，现在除了中国已经基本都没了。澳新一块我的预测还是比较准确的 - 直到他们放弃了清零。英国和其他西方国家的边境控制基本是不存在了。倒是东亚的开放速度比较慢（台日韩）。考虑到现在绝大部分国家都是本土病例为主，建议台日韩还是赶紧把边境控制给彻底放开吧。原因是因为封着没效果，顶多只能体现一下政府控制疫情的决心而已……。

国内活动的话，我是严重低估了疫苗接种的速度，因此低估了国内活动恢复的速度。打疫苗，口罩，隔离之类的，都是一些不太舒服，但是对防疫（以及对防止自己被感染）有好处的事情。但是英国人当初对口罩和隔离还是挺抗拒的，直到亲眼看到NHS的崩溃。类似的，对疫苗的抗拒却没有出现。英国靠自愿接种，以非常高的速度达到了非常高的接种率（就前两针而言）。现在看来，什么“民族性”之类的论调怕是站不住脚，政府合理的引导和宣教才是真正的原因吧……。

中国

在2021年的时候，清零的国家有很多。东亚文化的，威权政治的中国朝鲜；西方文化，民主政治的澳大利亚和新西兰；还有一些太平洋小岛国。但是现在只剩下中国这一个了。

其实我不反对清零这个愿望。但是愿望能不能实现是另一回事：天堂之路和地狱之路分别由什么铺就每个人都知道。中国现在为清零所做的努力，实在够不上good work的标准。最主要的体现，我认为在于各种基于恐惧的加码，而同时缺乏对每一项措施的有效性（或者性价比）的评估。而且，虽然有效性/性价比的评价经常缺席，但是对于宣传性，戏剧性的要求却经常被满足。具体的例子我就不举了，相信在中国的人都深有体会。

而且，中国不屑于学习其他国家在控制COVID疫情的经验。中国确实有丰富的压制疫情，消灭疫情的经验。但是，中国似乎没有太多的 在保障民生的同时压制疫情的经验，例如如何在新冠对医疗系统造成巨大压力的同时运营一个能让大部分cat 1/2病人得到及时救治的急症室。重复的封城似乎没让中国总结出什么来。即使有，也会因“基于恐惧的加码”被放在一边。而其他国家的类似经验，往往被标为“封城不彻底就是彻底不封城”，或被认为是没有意义的失败者的经验 - 仿佛对一个不救治就立即有可能死亡的病人稍微放松（例如在等待核酸结果时先使用隔离病房救治，而不是放在医院门口不管），就会导致数十万人因新冠死亡。

随着变种病毒越来越强，中国还面对着一种可能性，就是出现一种在中国人能承受的封城限度下无法清零的病毒。当然，如果把每个人都关在单独的铁皮房间里，那病毒传播是没有可能的。但是，即使是中国人的忍耐力，也做不到让人不吃饭，不喝水。而且共产党也不能完全籍口疫情而不顾民意（在疫苗上就体现得很明显）或者经济（体现在卫健委vs地方政府就核酸检测费用的争论）为所欲为。而以现在新冠变种的速度，出现共产党无法控制的变种也只是时间问题而已。Omicron已经让中国流调的重要性大减，伴随无差别检测的重要性上升，和控制成本的大幅上升。而击穿中国的新变种很可能已经在路上了。到时中国会怎么做 - 尤其是面对音量大的防疫爱好者和既得利益者 - 就很值得关注。

新冠的影响

我很喜欢说的一句话是，living with covid is not living without covid。即使covid只是流感，那我们现在也有两个流感了。而任何人看到了流感造成的QALY lost，病假，productivity lost，经济上的损失，对医疗系统的压力，都不会把“just”放在流感前。想想把这些都乘以2。更别提COVID即使有疫苗也还是一种远比流感凶险的疾病（流感的case往往被低估，因此case fatality往往显得高。我印象中，如果case是基于症状的话，COVID的case fatality大概是流感2-20倍的样子 - 数据来源忘了 - 但这只是瞎猜对吧。而且COVID相较流感的最特别之处是对40-60岁人造成的超额死亡 - 一般人类最productive的年龄）。

而且，由于我们不去清零，这些新的QALY lost，producitvity lost等等，都将会是永久性的，除非病毒自己消失，或者mortality & morbidity都降到忽略不计（而不是和流感一样）。医疗的需求会永久性地增加，因此供应也需要在一个更高的baseline上。人们对病假的态度将会永远地改变。雇主会需要更多人来应对productivity的减少。而casual employee（没有病假，而casual loading实话说是真的少的可怜）会要求更多的权利。政府会永久性的需要更高的支出来覆盖医疗和损失的收入。

不幸的是，我有点怀疑各国政府在做出共存的决定时，有没有想过这些。我看过下议院就新冠教训的报告，里面表达了对当时的新冠宿命论的不解。不少当初学界和政界的观点都被证明错的离谱：封城并非没有用；flatten高传染性疾病的curve只会是lockdown而不是想象中更温和的措施；民众并不会不配合lockdown - 只要lockdown是有意义的；甚至lockdown也不会对mental health造成显著影响 - 不少民众表达了一种sense of purpose支持他们投入对抗疫情。而这里面又折射一些别的问题：英国学界缺乏对世界上其他国家学界的认知，政府对民众不信任 - 认为他们不能对话和解释只能nudge - 尽管这个政府就是英国人自己选出来的。

不过时至如今，后悔是没有什么用的了。新冠的影响会怎么走，还请社会学家的预测比较好……。

中国保留了完整战斗力确实，洋人非死即伤确实。问题是要怎么赢。

解放军总不能戴着口罩打仗，接触一个洋兵隔离14天吧。

@natasha #190966 这得感谢施耐庵先生……

@natasha #190778

丹妮提了一口气，捋了捋鬓角，笑着进去。

厨房里面有一个高瘦的女人。她正在打开一些罐头。空气里面有西红柿炖牛肉的味道。

“这是我的老婆兰娜。”他向丹妮解释。“兰娜 - 这是丹妮，我的中学同学”

“很高兴见到你 - "厨房传来。“我听辉提到过你。”“很抱歉的是，我们今天冰箱坏了，所以也没有什么能用的食材。不过我们为了防止封城的时候没有吃的，有两大箱西红柿炖牛肉罐头。今天算是派上用场了。”

“作为补偿，我有一些很好的酒 - 82年的拉菲。我这就给你倒一碗。”

82年的拉菲和西红柿牛肉确实是绝配。三人都喝了不少酒。不知不觉，时间已经到了十一点。

丹妮喝下了十八碗酒，倒提着手袋，脚步不稳地正想向家走去。兰娜追出来喊道：“走不得！走不得！最近附近有个变态，已经伤害了二三十条人命。”

丹妮听了，笑了笑说：“你休来吓我，便真个有，我也不怕！”

刚出门不过十分钟，忽然刮起了一阵狂风，接着“扑”的一声，从灌木丛后面跳出一只小猫咪来。那小猫两只前爪在地上轻轻一按，朝着丹妮纵身扑来。

说时迟，那时快，丹妮见小猫扑过来，只一闪，就闪在小猫背后。丹妮两手就势抓住小猫的后颈皮轻轻往空中一提，那小猫便身子一软，倒在地上。丹妮在猫头上摸了两下，那小猫就发出了满足的purr声，再也没了一开始的狂力。

“今天蹭到了免费饭，喝到了82年的拉菲，还撸到了猫，真是一天！”丹妮心想到。

@Nemo #190727 能蹭到饭就不算浪费时间了吧（来自穷鬼的留言）

弗拉基米尔-普京如何挑起并使反专制的斗争复杂化

与旧冷战相同，丑陋的交易不可避免

2022年3月26日

乔-拜登总统12月在一个线上的 "民主峰会 "上说，专制与民主之间的斗争是 "塑造我们时代的挑战"。这被弗拉基米尔-普京对乌克兰的入侵印证。通过导弹和坦克，一个独裁者正试图扼杀一个自由选举的政府。

此外，由美国和欧洲大部分地区组成的,反对普京先生的联盟,其核心是肯定的民主。简而言之，对普京的反击，似乎正符合拜登的框架--"民主与专制之间的斗争"，正如他在国情咨文中所言。但地缘政治从来都不是那么简单的。

尽管普京最重要的支持者--中国是威权国家，一些民主国家却很暧昧。作为俄罗斯武器的大买家，印度拒绝对普京进行谴责。南非的执政党与前苏联有着长期的友谊，并将战争的一些责任推给了北约。曾被普京称赞其 "阳刚之气 "的巴西总统宣称中立。以色列表示，它正在采取临时措施，希望能扮演调解人的角色。

拜登还正在寻求其他威权的帮助。这让人担心，西方将做出丑陋的妥协来对抗普京，正如其在冷战期间对反共盟友的出格行为不闻不问一样。这样做会带来外交和政治挑战。与声称“妥协是抵制共产主义幽灵所必需的”相比，向国外盟友和国内选民证明“应讨好专制者来对抗专制”可能是更棘手的。

想想土耳其，一个民主制度正被围攻、具有巨大战略意义的国家。自战争开始以来，西方对土耳其强人埃尔多安的批评已渐渐缄默了。

一方面，埃尔多安同情乌克兰，并向其出售非常有效的作战无人机。但于此同时，他反对对俄罗斯的制裁，并向俄罗斯飞机开放领空。他还向普京抛出了一条金融生命线，建议土耳其和俄罗斯之间的贸易用卢布或黄金来进行。逃离国内迫害的普通俄罗斯人在土耳其找到了避风港。然而，逃避西方制裁的俄罗斯寡头们也如此。普京先生的亿万富翁朋友罗曼-阿布拉莫维奇的两艘超级游艇已经停靠在那里。

西方官员正在敦促土耳其对俄罗斯采取更强硬的态度。土耳其民主人士担心埃尔多安会开出高价，例如要求西方对他关押批评者和钳制媒体的习惯给予宽大处理。3月1日，埃尔多安提出为土耳其提供加入欧盟的快速通道。一周后，他敦促拜登取消对土耳其国防工业的制裁，而这些制裁是在埃尔多安向俄罗斯购买s-400防空系统后实施的。为此美国提供了一个解决方案：建议土耳其将s-400系统送往乌克兰。由于技术和政治原因，这不太可能发生，特别是土耳其担心俄罗斯的报复。但美国仍可能与埃尔多安达成协议。美国在第一次冷战期间容忍了一个不民主的土耳其，因为它是一个盟友。它在新的冷战中也可能这样做。

在西方国家中，自由主义国家也面临着这种两难境地的另一个版本。波兰比土耳其民主得多，但在过去的几年里，其政府干预法官，骚扰反对派媒体。正因此，欧盟冻结了专用于波兰的360亿欧元（400亿美元）的新冠大流行复苏资金。

然而，今天，波兰接待了最多的乌克兰难民，并允许用于保卫乌克兰的武器通过其领土。面对其最古老的敌人俄罗斯压境的威胁，波兰热衷于与欧盟达成和解。这可能会刺激执政的法律与公正党收敛其对法官的奴役和对媒体的压制。但也有可能出现相反的情况。波兰的西方伙伴可能会因为波兰在乌克兰问题上发挥的必需作用而放过其越轨行为。一位接近拜登政府的分析人士说：“现在就法治问题向波兰政府施压是非常不合时宜的”，“但华沙应该明白，打击专制者需要加强我们自己的民主。”

批评者则担心法律与公正党会利用俄罗斯进一步侵略的阴影把党国绑定，加紧对波兰机构的控制，并加强对内部 "敌人 "的攻击，如自由主义者、女权主义者和同性恋者。“也许我们需要更彻底地改变我们的做法，”波兰国家电视台的一位主持人最近思考道。“一个前线国家能允许容忍对自己价值体系的攻击吗？”

这场战争已导致能源价格飙升，促使西方重新思考与专制石油国家的关系。(在欧佩克的13个成员中，有11个被美国监督机构自由之家评为 "不自由"；两个被评为 "部分自由"）。与他的前任不同，拜登因强调人权而激怒了海湾统治者。他曾经承诺要让沙特政权成为“他们应是的被排斥者”。而现在，他要求沙特生产更多的石油--3月16日访问利雅得的英国首相鲍里斯-约翰逊强化了这一信息。拜登先生可能不得不进一步向沙特王储萨勒曼示好 - 而此前他指责后者在2018年下令肢解一名华盛顿邮报专栏作家。这位王储正在向中国示好，以表明他有选择权。据《华尔街日报》报道，他正在考虑用人民币而不是美元对向中国的石油出口定价。他还希望在他运气不佳的也门战争中得到更多帮助，并在美国免于起诉。

另一个被石油支撑的专制国家委内瑞拉则希望乌克兰的战争能帮助它摆脱禁运。许多民主国家拒绝承认尼古拉斯-马杜罗，一个操纵选举的独裁者，为总统。普京用大量的武器和现金以及一些军队来支持马杜罗，主要是为了显示他可以在美国的后院插手。但现在，每个人的想法都在改变。

马杜罗不再能指望普京，因为他现在资金紧张，更关心征服基辅，而不是宠爱加拉加斯。拜登更关心如何阻止普京，而不是推翻马杜罗。因此，3月7日委内瑞拉电视台出现了不寻常的一幕，马杜罗描述了两天前与白宫代表团的会面。他高兴地说："两面旗帜看起来很美，""团结一致，就像美国和委内瑞拉的旗帜一样"。

拜登政府说，这次访问的主要目的是人道主义。马杜罗释放了两名被囚禁的美国人。他还承诺重返他去年放弃的与备受迫害的委内瑞拉反对派的会谈。但双方也谈到了石油问题。据报道，前往加拉加斯的代表团提出，任何制裁减免都要以委内瑞拉向美国出口一些石油为条件。

双方都很谨慎。但有限的和解似乎是可能的，但这肯定会加强马杜罗对权力的控制。马杜罗的前参谋长特米尔-波拉斯（Temir Porras）说，他与美国官员的会面是对他掌权的 "事实承认"。这位强人 "得到了他一直想要的东西"。共和党人指责拜登向专制者伸出援手是在示弱。佛罗里达州参议员马尔科-鲁比奥(Marco Rubio)说，这次会面对反对派 "造成了巨大的伤害"。

对魔鬼的同情

民主国家有漫长的与专制政权交易的历史。有些显然是必要的。为了打败纳粹德国，西方与斯大林合作，促使丘吉尔说 "如果希特勒入侵地狱，我至少会在下议院为魔鬼说几句好话。" 一些似乎是可耻的。美国在冷战时期对扎伊尔（现为刚果）的蒙博托-塞塞-塞科等战略边缘地区的反共权贵的支持，在今天几乎找不到辩护人。

与普京先生的斗争将迫使西方重新考虑其与较小的恶棍的许多关系。但新冷战与旧冷战不同。共产主义是一种普遍的意识形态，激发了非洲、亚洲和拉丁美洲的革命。普京主义是民族主义和保守愤怒的嚎叫。美国外交关系委员会的斯图尔特-帕特里克（Stewart Patrick）指出，俄罗斯和中国都没有提供 "一个能够在全世界吸引大众支持的令人信服的世界观"。这使得他们对自由世界的生存威胁不如苏联。而因此，与抑制共产主义相比，西方有更少的做出类似丑陋交易的驱动力。

随着制裁对俄罗斯经济的挤压，克里姆林宫对其自己的专制盟友的支持可能会减弱。马里和中非共和国的强人可能会生存下去，因为他们付得起保护他们的俄罗斯雇佣军(中非共和国有很多钻石）。但叙利亚的巴沙尔-阿萨德和白罗斯的亚历山大-卢卡申科的位置可能会更加不稳。普京先生过去曾救过这两个独裁者 - 在2015年派兵镇压叙利亚叛军，并在2020年派人帮助卢卡申科镇压抗议选举被盗窃的活动。两人都热衷于继续获得普京的支持。阿萨德据说已经派遣叙利亚 "志愿者 "在乌克兰帮助俄罗斯，尽管他正在试图重新和阿拉伯国家建立关系。

卢卡申科帮助则透过允许俄罗斯从白罗斯境内向南推进基辅来协助普京。白罗斯军队本应加入进来，但白罗斯反对派表示，他们不愿意听命于一个独裁者，攻击无辜的斯拉夫同胞。据报道，白罗斯的铁路工人已经破坏了与乌克兰的铁路连接，以阻止物资被送到侵略者手上。

到目前为止，战争本身正在展示一些民主的优势和专制的弊端。乌克兰的战士们让他们的对手大吃一惊，而乌克兰人民对自由的承诺也激励了全世界。就普京而言，他能够心血来潮地发动他的破坏性战争。他的走狗们害怕带来坏消息。他似乎真诚地期望许多乌克兰人欢迎他的军队。而他的政权，像大多数专制国家一样，是腐败的，使他的军队在战场上比纸面上更弱。预算被洗劫一空；俄罗斯的装备因缺乏维护或备件而出现故障。

然而，战争的结果是不可预测的，它对全球民主的影响也将是不可预测的。如果普京取得了一些看似胜利的东西，各地的强人将得到鼓舞。如果他输了，这可能会激励那些站出来反对他们的人。当拜登在今年晚些时候再次召开他的民主峰会时，很多议程将取决于乌克兰人的勇气，以及他们从民主国家获得的支持 - 尽管它们有很多缺陷。

本文以 《新的冷战，新的妥协 》为题出现在印刷版的国际部分。

@穿防护服的大白 #185961 我一向的观点是，在underworld里面行动，对有心参与的人，是很公平的。蛇头可以卖你。你也可以当上蛇头，把别的蛇头给卖了。

当然心思慎密，有组织的蛇头比一般一时兴起想抢劫的teenager难对付（反杀）一点。但是相信我，只要不怂，机会是有的。机会成本请自己算…………

@natasha #185058 听说是这样的。因为扑杀本来就是没有根据的事情。因此自然会有人欺软怕硬。或者嫌麻烦就不做了。毕竟要用外语和一个外国人说“我要杀掉你的猫猫”并且在随后可预见的吵架中占上风，对于大部分人，确实不太容易。

不过为什么他们会认为外国人是硬我是不太清楚。很多刚到中国没多久的外国人其实怂的很。但是混久了的油条就经常利用这一点。

@natasha #185049 看得我都想搞一个外国友人担保猫猫业务了。一只猫咪一百块。可爱的50也可以。

中共种族歧视看不起华裔，我别的朋友还是有的。

@小甜甜 #184989 需要换个脑子才成

@natasha #184673 某便利店的两块钱白色糖霜 + 某便利店四舍五入等于免费的小杯咖啡 = 上学时候最佳图书馆动力。

但是不是看上去那样便宜。价格标签藏在牙医账单里。

其实直接按俄联邦管区分基本就很准的了。我感觉你的分法没能很好照顾到乌拉尔山区/西西伯利亚，以及余下的西伯利亚、远东的区别。以及北高加索建议直接按现有的自治共和国边界来切。俄罗斯行政规划还是挺照顾文化边界的，现有的拿来用就可以……

@刺刺 #184459 确实是这样。但是当时的舆论也有点可防重症=可以无视新冠，回归前-新冠的生活的样子。而这一点是非常不准确的，因为这忽视感染本身会造成的问题，例如员工缺勤。

今天实在缺乏干活动力，决定给自己放一天假。吃完早餐就在家里喝啤酒。战前的乌克兰obolon，开战之后在当地酒商买了一箱。不知道之后还有什么时候有了。其实只是50/50的啤酒，不过只是sentimental value而已。

不过我在家里的玻璃杯只有半打俄罗斯产的二十面玻璃杯（这种），曾经的旅游纪念品。之所以想到这个是想到我以前还算挺喜欢俄罗斯的。风景不错。路况也还行（城市除外）。而且总有种点平行世界的感觉。例如玻璃杯会来自60年代为了改进玻璃生产工艺的实验工厂。会和小时候看过的地摊文学，苏联疯狂科学家之类的有一点resonance。英国没有疯狂科学家，只有19世纪的工业家或者几个世纪的工匠传统之类的。就是比较无聊。

不过现在当然不会再买俄罗斯或者白俄罗斯产品了。

/t/11229

过去了一年多好想写一个复盘。总体看了下，高估了疫苗抗传染效果，但是低估了疫苗应对急性complication的效果。低估了变种速度（但是乌鸦嘴中了南非）。边境控制和中国部分在omicron出现前基本准确，之后就不对了。以及总体缺乏对后遗症和社会影响的讨论。

不过这大概要难产了。新的工作虽然基本工资高了25%（加上加班估计能高个六成），但是真的要被榨干了……

帮助乌克兰军队

这是乌克兰央行的网站。可以信用卡直接支付（亲测选择欧元/格里夫纳扣费均是按格里夫纳，美元不清楚）。虽然转账看起来安全一点，但是他们给的外币账户似乎没有很好考虑到使用那些货币的国民的使用习惯，所以很令人困惑。

以往战争我往往会选择买当地商品表示支持。但是这里例外。因为这是全面的战争，因此供应链被打乱的情况很严重。一些工厂甚至在交火区（例如我挺喜欢的一个牌子 - staleks - 在哈尔科夫），因此买了肯定不会发货。

接受和谈，俄罗斯和谈条件如下：

1. 俄罗斯从乌克兰撤军。

2. 承认东乌两个分离主义者实际控制区的独立，但是这两个地方为非军事区。并允许第三国观察员（也就是说基本回到开战前的军事部署状态，但是不用收回对这两个地方的独立承认。乌克兰也没有实质上的损失，因为在2014年就损完了）。

3. 克里米亚重新在国际观察员在场情况下重新投票公投（大概率还是留在俄罗斯）。

4. 普京下台，但是换一个统俄党的上台（不用动现在的利益分配太多，算是借普京人头换权贵利益。但是普京可未必愿意轻易送头……）。

5. 换取取消西方大部分制裁（真正的国家利益所在。乌克兰离北约和欧盟都是十万八千里，对这两项的担心纯粹杞人忧天）。

乌克兰的条件

1. 同意俄罗斯的条件。

2. 取缔和新纳粹主义关系接近的组织±亚速营（反正泽连斯基的centrist政府也不太喜欢他们，他们在民众里面也没有那么受欢迎。还能在西方刷一波好感。俄罗斯也得到了成功去纳粹化的台阶）。

3. 同意永不部署北约的军队和基地（反正一开始也没打算部署，以战前状态乌克兰也没有加入北约的可能，而俄罗斯又获得了成功阻挡北约的台阶。而乌克兰/北约也没有说就此不加入北约，只是不部署）。

4. 泽连斯基辞职，重新大选（大概率还是亲欧人士上台，但是没有太强烈的反俄光环。以及泽连斯基在外交手腕上还是差一点）。

感觉这算是一个对目前双方的统治阶级都能接受的方案……

这是基于我对目前乌克兰战情的判断：俄罗斯会在未来数周完全占领第聂伯河以东，但是代价超过自己想象。而乌克兰也难以承受继续战争的代价。当然最好的结果是乌克兰成功抵御，俄罗斯恶有恶报。

1

An absurd little narrow-gauge railway ran from the station to the village, which had now grown into a market town. Compared with the frightening, snorting great trains of the grown-ups, this little engine with its miniature coaches all of different colours was comfortingly reminiscent of a child's toy. In the big train I had felt oppressed and uneasy, afraid of losing my suitcase or of going past the right station. The fear had been very real and intrusive, and it was with relief that I climbed into one of the green toy coaches, sat down on a handsomely perforated wooden bench and stowed my suitcase between my feet. After all my anxieties I felt I had reached my goal. The little train suited me; its size was reassuring, and when with a piercing whistle the engine jerked the coaches into motion I felt pride on its account. The line was familiar to me; I knew where I had to get out and was sure of being able to find my way. But I had never made this journey alone before. Hitherto I'd been a child; now I was twelve and travelling on my own, and among the underclothes, sandwiches and bathing trunks in my suitcase lay Stevenson's Treasure Island, the most tremendously exciting book I had ever read.

The bathing trunks strengthened my sense of being no longer a child. Hitherto it had never occurred to me to wear such things, but in this little country town there was a public bathing beach on the lake shore, and Mother told me I must wear them there. The moment she said this I realized the truth of it, and felt somehow estranged from her and from all the world, as if some protecting membrane had split and left me naked and afraid in an alien place. But this first confusion had long since passed and now I merely felt very grand in possessing bathing trunks, and also in having a suitcase of my own.

Barely three hours had passed since I had formally shaken hands with my mother on the platform in Helsinki, rigid with dread lest despite her promise she should disgrace me by kissing me good-bye in front of strangers. She had not done so, and these last three hours had swept me away from my former life – from safe, familiar things – into a solitude where I must fend for myself. This was a painful yet exhilarating feeling. Alone I had changed at the junction, and felt proud indeed to have found the right train without difficulty. The loneliness of that too big, too rapid express train had lain heavily upon me. Now that the ordeal was nearly over I straightened up, like a beetle which, having been frightened into shamming death, cautiously spreads its gauzy wings when the danger is past.

I leaned airily back, threw one leg over the other and looked out of the tiny window. The coach rocked pleasantly, the little engine hooted at every bend and a green and red spruce wood rushed by. Then appeared the outlying houses of the town, and the train drew up by an open space beyond which the ancient church, with its steep shingle roof, soared to the sky. Jackdaws were screeching round the steeple.

It was here I had to alight. No one had come to meet me, for my aunt was delicate and suffered from loss of breath, and my uncle disliked interrupting his work without good cause. I knew I should have no difficulty in finding the house, and at the thought that there was now no need for anyone to meet me I felt even more grown-up than before. I paused for a moment to look at the church, knowing that it was a noted feature of the place and was even pointed out to foreign visitors. Its walls were over three feet thick, and had huge stones built into them at such a height that no one knew how people living all those centuries ago had ever got them up there. Or so my aunt said, never forgetting to add that the bigger the stones they laid in the walls the bigger the sins for which they fancied they would be forgiven. Aunt made this remark with heavy irony, well knowing that it was by faith alone and not by works that mankind could attain salvation. Yet in thinking of those far-off days she would heave a gentle sigh and add indulgently, "Poor souls!"

The sight of the church aroused in me a strong feeling of repugnance, for already I could hear the minatory thunders of the organ; the paintings on the walls appeared to my mind's eye in dreadful detail, and again I felt the deadly boredom that had gripped me on every one of the countless Sundays I had spent there, when I was completely in the dark as to what it was all about. Such, again, was the prospect if I meant to spend the whole of August with my aunt, but I tried to persuade myself that those inevitable hours would now be easier to endure. I understood a certain amount by this time and had also begun to think.

I wandered along the dusty road that ran through the little town, looking in at the stationer's window and noting that a new house of stone had been built in the market square. The buildings were painted yellow or white as before and were surrounded by hedges of spruce or hawthorn, and in the gardens there were apple trees. At last I stood before the familiar house. I opened the discoloured gate and walked cautiously up to the house along the edge of the sandy path so as not to spoil the wavy patterns made by the rake; Aunt was very particular about these. Quietly and warily I opened the outer door, for Aunt didn't like noise. A white rug striped with red lay on the gleaming, extremely slippery linoleum, and once more the eternal problem confronted me: should I walk on the rug or on the floor? For neither must be dirtied. But the familiar, Old World smell of the house drifted to me reassuringly: the scent of old furniture, clean linen, rusks, linoleum, and freshly roasted coffee. Aunt came towards me, temporarily dismissing all problems from her mind, and held out her big, bony, kindly hand.

"Well, here you are then, Joel," she said. "I'm glad to see you. How's your mother?"

I answered conscientiously all her questions about my mother, my home, and my journey. She showed me where I was to sleep, took the suitcase from me, and offered me a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Here was proof that she considered me full-grown; in the old days I had been given only hot water and cream.

Aunt sat with her chin resting in her hand, scrutinizing me with eyes that sparkled kindly in the big, lean face. When I had eaten four slices of wheaten bread and finished my coffee she glanced toward the door of the workshop and said hesitantly, "Maybe you should go and say how-do-you-do to your uncle."

It was clear that she was as nervous as I was of disturbing him. I therefore knocked cautiously, opened the door and amid the ticking of innumerable clocks walked across the spotless floor to where my uncle was sitting behind the counter. He let the watchmaker's glass drop from his wrinkled eye and turned to greet me. He wore his working coat, but with it a high starched collar and a grey silk tie. His grey hair was combed carefully back and his scalp gleamed white between the sparse strands. His eyebrows were two wing-shaped tufts and the grey whiskers lent him an air of dignity. But his cheeks and chin, for all his grizzled age, had a sort of roundness and innocence about them, and I felt I had never seen so shy, modest and kindly a face as my uncle's.

Nevertheless I was nervous as I gave him my hand, though I guessed he was no less so. He stammered and muttered to himself until I thought of giving him, my mother's message of greeting. For this he was grateful, since it spared him having to find a topic of conversation; a task which he always found difficult. A black-haired apprentice stared at me from the other end of the table and then openly stuck out his tongue at me. I was thunderstruck. For me, Uncle's workshop with its everlastingly ticking clocks was as solemn a place as church; especially when with all their clear, various voices they struck the hour together. One began and the rest followed in due order until the noise swelled to a tremendous din which gradually decreased, until only a few belated clocks struck their remaining stokes, half-scared it seemed at the sound of their own voices in a room that was to be silent for the next half hour.

My uncle was shy, though of course he would never own to it. But now that I was older my aunt let me see that she often smiled at him behind his back. It was when women came to the shop that he was most alarmed; at such times he often took refuge in the parlour and let the apprentice deal with them. Strangely enough it was this very shyness and reserve that had won him general esteem. Even the most garrulous restrained themselves in his presence, and although to me he never uttered a word of reproach, I held him in profound veneration, was always afraid of disturbing him, and did my utmost to be quiet when he was about.

When I came out into the kitchen again my aunt, sighed with relief and said, "Uncle seems glad to see you. She had watched the greeting ceremony through the crack of the door, and years of experience had taught her to deduce my uncle's thoughts and feelings from is manner. She now looked at me hard as if at a loss what to do with me. “There's over an hour till dinner-time,” she said. “You can go out and play till then”.

She could have had no inkling of how deeply the word offended me. A person capable of travelling alone from Helsinki and changing trains all by himself had obviously left his playing days far behind him.

"I shall go and bathe," I remarked stiffly, and added, "I've got my bathing trunks."

This crushing remark silenced my aunt and made her look at me with new respect, or so I fancied. Proudly I set off with the trunks under my arm, and strolled through the town towards the beach.

2

Ah, those years of boyhood, when life is full and vivid and sleep comes as one's head touches the pillow – a sleep tranquil and profound! I was happy in that old house, although everything in it was painfully clean and one had to be constantly on one's guard against dirtying things or moving chairs and so on from their appointed places. I soon noticed that my aunt was easiest in her mind when I kept out of sight, and I availed myself of this to the full. She was a conscientious guardian, but had no children of her own; to have a twelve-year-old boy on her hands was as worrying as having a charge of dynamite in the house. She would have liked to set me to work, for in her eyes idleness was the mother of all vices; but since for many years the routine of the household had run in smooth and self-sufficient grooves it was hard to find anything for me to do. But she did hit on the idea of my raking the sandy garden paths, and this I did gladly every morning when dew was still sparkling on the grass and the air was full of the freshness of approaching autumn. But the wavy patterns I made never quite satisfied my aunt, and she regarded the result of my work with pursed lips. She also let me pick up unripe windfalls and take them to the neighbour's pig, which ate them with relish and came to look upon me as a friend. It was a massive, placid beast with a glint of unexpected playfulness in its red-rimmed eyes, and it liked nudging the toe of my sandal with its snout. Discovering in it queerly human traits I felt it was wrong to feed and fatten it just for the sake of turning it into Christmas ham. The idea depressed me, and I was glad to bring it all the windfalls there were, since it set such store by them.

But at this point my aunt's ingenuity gave out. Whenever she caught sight of me she began casting about for a job for me to do, but so long as I was absent her conscience slept; and so for the sake of her peace of mind I kept out of the way as much as possible. On rainy days I took refuge in the bakehouse, which was very seldom used, and if my aunt happened to look in to see what I was up to I could always show her my arithmetic book and my Swedish reader, as evidence of the many stiff holiday tasks to be done before school began again. Uncle's apprentice lent me a coverless, tattered copy of The Three Musketeers, and for the first few rainy days I was blissfully happy. When I began to yearn for more reading matter my aunt led me to Uncle's modest bookshelf. The black bindings of devotional works held no attraction for me, and the books on astronomy were too drearily reminiscent of school. Even my aunt realized that books of devotion did not make very exciting reading for a boy of my age; yet in her opinion training in temperance could never begin too early, and she therefore took down a thick book bound in green and handed it to me. It was called Echoes from the Rostrum.

I took it without enthusiasm and looked round the parlour. The boards were scrubbed white and on them lay white mats striped with red. The sofa, chairs, and table, ornamented with lathe-turned spheres and bobbins, were from St. Petersburg, where my uncle had trained. The seats were of red plush, though now in the summer they were hidden by neat blue-striped covers. It was in the room, in a narrow bed with brown wooden head- and foot-boards, that Uncle slept; but, in its cleanliness and quiet the room felt quite uninhabited. One evening, aunt was distressed to find that I no longer repeated my evening prayer aloud, and she led me to the parlour door just as my uncle was going to bed. Through the door I could hear his high, clear, old man's voice saying his prayers, and Aunt said that if Uncle did this, I could, He used always to kneel, she said, but of recent years he had taken to saying his prayers in bed, lying on his back with his hands crossed on his chest. My aunt therefore felt she could not insist on my kneeling, but at least I must pray aloud.

I had to comply. Thenceforth I repeated "Look at me" as Mother liked me to, and then "God bless Aunt and Uncle and save the heathen and protect all sailors on the far seas," for Aunt considered this important. Knowing that she listened from her room every night, I occasionally added thanks for the cakes she had baked that day, mentioning that they had been specially good; and this did not displease her. She was always anxious to prove that little boys' prayers were noted in the highest quarters, and so whenever dinner had been really very meagre I would summon up courage and express hopes concerning the next day's fare. Like most old people, my aunt and uncle ate very little, though their food was always wholesome and good. Bread was cut in paper-thin slices and at dinner Uncle never took butter. My aunt realized that the Spartan diet decreed by him was unsuited to a growing boy, and she did her best to supplement it with snacks between meals. She also gave me money to buy fruit on market days, and I never had to account to her for it. One way and another my prayers were often answered most wonderfully, and my aunt was delighted. To me there was something frightening in this game between God, Aunt, and myself; but I supposed that on the Day of Judgment God, if he was God, would be merciful and forgive both Aunt and me.

In the strange vacuum of this house, where for years time had been at a standstill, my mind concerned itself more with God than was perhaps usual for boys of my age. Having read the astounding and unforgettable Echoes from the Rostrum, I voluntarily added a further petition to my prayers: that God might protect all drunkards. For I was now fully alive to the terrors and temptations of drink. The book had been compiled by a noted orator and contained a vast collection of stories and anecdotes about the abuse of alcohol, some terrible, others ridiculous. Men beat their wives until they became permanent invalids, fathers flung their daughters into the fire, and the liquid waste from a whisky distillery was so strong as to corrode the galoshes of passers-by. Small wonder that this robust world, described in so forthright a style, fascinated me as much as Treasure Island or The Three Musketeers.

Uncle was a good Christian and a blameless man, who had solved whatever problems life may have presented to him by withdrawing from the world, keeping his body and clothes clean, and avoiding all temptations. To counteract his sedentary hours in the workshop he went for a long walk every day at the same time and in all weathers. He may have fancied that he'd been neglecting me or that I was bored, for one day after dinner he coughed shyly and invited me to come with him. This was so extraordinary that my aunt was quite flustered; she made me change my clothes and put on shoes instead of sandals. Uncle was dressed in an impeccable white suit and an old Panama hat, and carried a walking stick with a silver crook.

Side by side we followed Uncle's usual route, first down to the shore, then along a woodland path and finally up on to the ridge. He must have felt every bit as embarrassed and ill-at-ease as I did, but he trudged bravely on staring before him. I can still see his rounded, childish, face and dreamy blue eyes. After a mile or so we reached a clearing in the woods and Uncle remarked, “They’re going to bring a new electric cable along here.”

He smiled, his whole face radiant with delight at having found something to say. Then we came upon a dead crow by the roadside. Uncle turned it over with his stick, but had no comment to make. I would have liked to examine it more closely, but since Uncle found it unworthy of remark I refrained.

When we reached the top of the hill he paused by a grass-grown bank, stared at it for a long time and said, "This is where the Russian soldiers had their rifle range in the old days." Glancing at me quickly he jerked out, "The boys still dig up bullets here now and then."

It was the only hint he ever gave that his own sealed vacuum of a world could ever brush the borders of mine. We finished our walk along a route hallowed by a score of years – a route which Uncle had once chosen and never afterwards departed from – and as we walked I felt we were as far apart as if we'd been living on different planets. Yet this walk was for me so thrilling an experience that the memory of it and its countless vivid details remained with me for years, long after more eventful and superficially more interesting matters were forgotten. This walk, in the course of which my uncle uttered perhaps twenty shy words, still glows in my mind with the radiance of immortality.

The years of boyhood form a series of bright points between which all grey, sad, and hopeless things sink and vanish. At times, no doubt, I was unutterably bored, though I was perhaps unaware of it and merely supposed that that was how people always were.

Every Sunday we went to church. Uncle wore a dark suit and looked exceedingly uncomfortable as he walked along with short, slow steps, pausing now and then to allow Aunt to get her breath. As we approached the church door he had to raise his hat continually, and did so with modest dignity, his round face overspread with a shy, awkward smile. He was not himself again until he could subside into his usual place near the pulpit beside a mighty pillar, where he was hidden from the public gaze. Then he bent his head and clasped his hands in prayer. I had then two hours in which to contemplate the wall paintings and think of my own affairs.

I learned to know all the holy apostles and their emblems, for with each painting was a scroll inscribed in old-fashioned Gothic lettering. But my eyes turned for choice to the pictures in which something was happening, and there was no lack of them. Two especially seemed to vie with one another for pre-eminence. One portrayed a number of little sooty devils with long tails making up a a huge fire with their tongs under some poor human wretches who seemed in agony. In the other an executioner had just struck off St. Barbara's head; pale blood spurted in a broad jet from her neck into the air, while a wheel nearby suggested the immediate fate of the body. From the ground the saint's head regarded her still kneeling form in astonishment.

These pictures did not disturb me in the least, for I was only twelve and quite untouched by their imagery. Surprising things were going on in them, but they in no way concerned me and I could look at them as I would have looked at an exciting picture book, finding in them rich material for my imagination to work upon. They had as little to do with my innermost self as the sermon now echoing impressively beneath the vaulted roof. To me and perhaps to many of the grown people this echoing was what mattered; any possible meaning in the words was of secondary importance. Uncle listened with half-closed eyes, now and then sitting up straight to fix his attention. Aunt observed the congregation with keen interest, and from time to time stifled an incipient yawn. But when the service was over and, released from the clutches of the sermon and the weight of that ancient roof, we stepped out into the bright summer day, we all revived ang felt extremely cheerful, as if cleansed from the week’s misdeeds and in some way transfigured. At home the glorious smell of strong coffee filled the air. Aunt baked on Saturdays, and it was with light hearts that we sat down at the table.

Ah, those bright, immortal glimpses! The severed and astonished head of St. Barbara on the wall of the church, the clean, sour taste of a red-flecked fallen apple, the autumn freshness of mornings in the dewy garden that made one’s breast feel near to bursting; Athos, Porthos, and Aramis in the flour-laden air of the bakehouse; but, above all, one clear August day on the beach, when lightning struck my heart.

The bathing beach was public. It had white sand and a long jetty, and the water was clear. Close thickets of willow and alder edged the shore on the landward side, and behind them came the woods. At that time there were no bathing huts, and bathers undressed in the thickets. There was plenty of room for everyone, for the beach stretched for several hundred yards. Sometimes with other boys, though most often alone, I would undress, pull on my swimming trunks and stride into the water; or I would tear along the sand, roll in it, toss it about and laugh and shout with the rest. It was a pristine joy, unmixed with sad or troubling things.

But one day as I was making for home along the beach I beheld a young girl in the sunshine near a clump of willows. She had just come out of the water and was drawing off her wet bathing suit. Taking me for just a little boy she didn’t trouble to hide, and revealed her white body unconcernedly. I was so taken aback that I stopped short and gazed at her. She burst out laughing, waved the wet bathing suit at me and shouted, “Hi, you there – what are you staring at?”

I dashed away, stumbling in the deep sand and overcome with shame. But my eyes had been dazzled by the sunlit, water-cool image. That lovely naked girl had smiled at me, standing there so white, so wonderful, so outrageously fair. I lost all consciousness of my surroundings and as if blinded I trudged on, shaken to the core by what I had seen; instinctively I felt that I had done something shameful and ugly in staring at the naked girl, and yet I couldn’t have said why it was so.

The lightning flash struck me to the heart, though I was still only a boy with a mind as limpid as a drop of dew. Never had I known either desire or pain, and human griefs were remote from me; yet from somewhere deep within me there sprang dazzling fantasies of nakedness and bliss and that incomparable ecstasy that can flood one’s whole being with tumult. Outwardly I was exactly as before; inwardly something had changed, something had begun to grow. I wanted to forget it, to wipe it from my memory, for it troubled and saddened me. And perhaps I did forget it for long periods at a time, yet never entirely; it was there, though wrapped in darkness. That is why they stand out so clearly side by side in my memory: the cool, sunlit, naked figure and the alien darkness of my boy’s mind.

For several days I searched, furtively and with a nagging conscience, for the face of the unknown girl among the other faces on the beach, and though I never saw her again I still remember her eyes and her smile and how she laughed at me. I loved her for having vouchsafed to me a glimpse of that sweet and terrible beauty – beauty that was even enhanced in my secret thoughts. But I feared her more than I loved her, for instinct told me that if Aunt and Uncle and perhaps even Mother had known of this they would have felt I’d done something disgraceful and forbidden – something too ugly for forgiveness. And so I was glad I never saw her again.

The day of my return to Helsinki was approaching when my aunt was visited by a delicate-looking woman who led a little girl by the hand. Though the girl was perhaps not much younger than myself she seemed to me a small child, for I had already identified myself with grownups. She had round, red cheeks and dark, inquisitive eyes. Two thick plaits hung down her back.

“This is Mir-yam,” said my aunt. “Say how-do-you-do and take her out to play. She’s starting school here this winter, and she’s going to live with us.”

The girl put her plump hand into mine and met my eyes fearlessly. I learned later that she had many brothers and was therefore not shy of boys.

“Come on, let’s go out,” she said, “so that Mummy can talk to Auntie.”

I hadn’t the least wish to play with her, chiefly because I thought I was too old. Her hair seemed to me much too black and thick and her cheeks too red, and I also considered that she was treating me over-familiarly. As soon as we were in the hall I took my hand away, and when we got outside I began kicking a stone across the yard without looking at her.

“My name’s not Mir-yam but Mi-ri-am,” she said, articulating very distinctly so that I might understand. I wondered how to get rid of her. For my aunt’s sake I had to pay her some attention, and I led her resignedly to well, which I thought the only thing worthy of notice on the place, for it was very dark and deep. She peered politely into it and said “Oo!”

With her brown eyes on me she shuddered as much from genuine fear as from the pleasure of being afraid. I looked at her with suspicion, feeling that she was overdoing it, and then reflected that girls probably always did. Picking up two green apples from the ground I said with the surliness of desperation, ‘Come and see the pig.”

I took her to the neighbour’s pig, to which I gave the apples. Miriam looked on politely and without a spark of interest. She was beginning to irritate me. She gazed into the distance and then with a quick glance at me she said suddenly, “I’m going to be a missionary when I grow up.”

最近收拾地下室，找到了一个装着我中学时代看的书的塑料盒子。也找到了这本1956年由Putnam出版社在伦敦出版的Moonscape, and other stories, 作者是芬兰人Mika Waltari，翻译是Naomi Walford。他总体来说在英语世界并不算一个特别热门的作家，这一本小说集之后似乎也没有再版。不过，这里面的第一个故事，Moonscape，对我的中学生活影响很大，这次找到也勾起不少回忆。鉴于我没能找到电子版，因为我决定扫描+OCR+手工修，把这篇故事给更多人看到：请看下面。

doublethink大法好，考试归考试，相信的东西归相信的东西。

不要花太多时间倒是真的。学到pass的水平就好。有这时间不如学高数。

看完第一点，特地上浮点赞

话说最近南非新闻确实值得看一看。

中国共产党是真的又有机会赢一波了。这真的是去年西方自己的错。sigh。

曾经我也是个非豆子现磨不喝的snob。现在已经觉得速溶也可以喝了。而且只要加的足够多（我一般用包装上推荐的两倍浓度），快乐是能保障的。

我一般就是喝500克的大罐咖啡粉+开水泡的雀巢速溶（不是冻干的那种），有时也喝超市自家牌。半杯开水泡大概五分之一杯咖啡粉+半杯冰牛奶（为了冷的快），成本我没算过，但是目测不会超过两块钱人民币，而且成本主要在牛奶上。糖的话白砂糖请自便，爱多甜有多甜……。

（不过要注意，冻干速溶一般其实不会怎么翻车，但是非冻干确实存在翻车几率，建议从小包装开始。另外我印象中俄罗斯或者香港进口的平行进口咖啡会比中国产的便宜一点）。中国牛奶贵，可以买点便宜的澳大利亚或者波兰或者乌拉圭/智利牛奶……。

如果实在受不了速溶，挂耳咖啡是个很好的选择。我这里卖UCC的挂耳一杯只有外面买咖啡1/3不到的价格。考虑到中国买日本货一般更便宜，相信会很划算的。泡好之后白砂糖请尽情加……。

另外我印象中在中国的便利店见过巨大塑料瓶的泡好的UCC，印象中价格挺便宜的。这个的质量其实也是挺可以的了，和超市咖啡豆自己做cold brew其实差不了多少，但是很省事。

以上提到的咖啡，再自行加糖（其实什么糖都差不多），自行加奶，虽然比不过店里现磨的摩卡，但是在满足咖啡因+糖的需求，味道还行，价格便宜三点上，绝对值得考虑一下的……

@infoworld #175196 没事，身在中国买什么都会给中国政府交税的。没有关税也会有生产运输过程中的税。

而且如果人不在中国，金兰真的是首选。中国好酱油基本没有（而且大量珠江桥），日本好酱油太贵。新加坡、马来西亚产品也有不错的（杨协成的其实就还挺不错的）但是相对难找。菲律宾，西方国家本地制造的酱油多是工业水解酱油，不是发酵酱油，不值得买。

酱油：金兰是最好的酱油（味道好，便宜，还不用给共产党交税）

难吃的酱油：我最记得的是品珍。中国酱油味道好的不少含味精，也有取巧的用酵母提取物。如果不介意，也不是不能用。

不要买珠江桥：很常见，但是这是真的党企……

盐：炒菜用最便宜的盐就可以。海盐的subtle味道在用作炒菜时不会有任何体现，因此纯粹浪费。

好味道的海盐：英国和法国普遍优秀。Maldon和各个品牌的fleur de sel都可以。但是不建议用来炒菜。

最近和朋友聊天的时候聊到了一些东西，然后我们都觉得精苏其实要比粉红总体来说要好一点。

简单说就是这样的。精美会说，美国有一美元的炸鸡。精苏会说，苏联每星期给全体公民发一只炸鸡。

而粉红会说炸鸡是西方文化入侵，吃豆腐去。

@暴动喵 #155026 @暂时保密 #154894 这个应该是低仿号…………

我认为不会，最主要的是留学生出国太容易了，而留学的难度低到不行，也没有被打击。最近Heathrow堆满中国新生都上新闻了。

实话说对于这里大部分不搞drama的用户而言，大概只是单纯觉得品葱用户太蠢罢了

小孩不会说权利，但是小孩的家长可不是省油的灯……

而且就英格兰而言，两剂完全在40岁以上的所有年龄段都超过了80%（60-64达到了97%），至少一剂在30岁以上就已经80%。换句话说几个星期后30岁以上就会有80%。考虑到英格兰的疫苗推出完全按年龄，=（高龄先接种），年底达到全人口80%还是有信心的。

我觉得这里唯一可以得出的结论是：中国在阻挠调查。

中国不止阻挠其他国家的调查，国际组织的调查，而且也阻碍中国科学家的调查。去年那份关于covid的paper都需要政府某部门审核才能投稿的通知严重阻碍了中国科学家的调查意愿。以及据我听说就算在国内溯源工作从去年年中开始基本就没动过。

具体原因我猜最大可能是面子。如果真的是实验室泄露，那我支持这份报告的结论，即不可能是故意泄露的。而且我怀疑其实他们自己泄露了都不知道，事后可能才调查出来 - 如果有调查的话。

不过另外一边，那份共和党的报告漏洞是真的有点太多了……

@SwissHalberdier #153021 防疫效果有两层。第一层是公共卫生意义上的，就是减少传染。第二层是自己层面上的，防止自己被感染就死掉。

虽然说现在疫苗在第一层的作用上有点可疑，但是第二层的效果还是挺不错的。这个就像开车戴安全带。我自己戴了安全带，撞上路人的话路人还是会死。但是我自己不会。所以我戴安全带。

祝好运吧……。

好奇国内打疫苗做informed consent是怎样的。GBS虽说大部分人最后都能恢复，在其他疫苗上也能发生（例如流感疫苗，印象中是百万分之一/二的样子，以及很多常见疫苗都有几率导致GBS），但是也是一个严重的不良反应。不常见但是严重的反应还是应该告知一下的吧。

另外根据我在墙内所了解，ITP发生似乎也有一定频率（本站似乎也贴过一个疑似，但是没有结果）。但是具体数字我自己是没办法统计的。虽然这个也不是新冠疫苗专属，例如世界各地儿童常用的MMR疫苗是一个比较常见的，西方几种常用新冠疫苗也有相关的case report。但是这些数据还是公开出来比较好吧。

当然，和公众沟通这些信息的时候，方法也很重要。AZ的疫苗在VITT上的沟通简直就是翻车的不行。我有时候也在想，这些对于需要专业人士辅助理解的信息，会不会只允许由医生沟通，不允许媒体报导比较好。不过我怀疑这些国产疫苗的副作用数据，怕是连中国的医生都不知道。

@消极 #149200 又不用从甲烷和水开始做……

@消极 #149198 毒品可以药品自然也行。不要低估有完善化工供应链back的中国小作坊。做出来你敢不敢用而已。