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Dear Mores,

I was perusing the Code of Hammurabi in the original Akkadian cuneiform last night, as any thrill-seeker such as myself is wont to do after the rush of Chugach heli-skiing, ritualistic gatka combat, and bareback bachanalian orgies has begun to fade, and even a walk-in closet full of crack pipes fails to shake off the old ennui. Yes, I've always maintained that when your hedonistic pursuits have become so far-reaching, jaded, and well-worn that even late-stage Dorian Gray looks like a wide-eyed pleasure virgin by comparison, then it's time to blow the dust off of a copy of archaic Mesopotamian text.

As my well-trained eyes followed the lines of ancient Babylonian script, one thing became abundantly clear almost immediately.

I can't read cuneiform. So I found an English translation and started over.
The Code of Hammurabi is nearly 3800 years old and chock full of reparations denominated in archaic units of measurement. If you thought cubits and shekels were tedious back in Sund…

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