Podcasts about 2x4

Promises To Keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works. “Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.” (From the floor of Katrina's office) First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test. All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating. Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that. "He is awake," Tadêfi alerted the room. "You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested." "I am almost done," a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way. The door shut and my eyes opened. "The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm," Tadêfi whispered upon my lips. Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without, And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down. I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure. "Thank you," I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head. "Kiss me," I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. "Who was Shammuramat?" "I don't know, but this helps, right?" Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs. They had to find that son-of-a-bitch! "Tadêfi, we are back in the fight," I grinned. "You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle." I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life. The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways. The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things. Why her? "Krasimira," I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur. "What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?" I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. "She was the first ever "independent" queen of a nation-state, Assyria." Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race. "9th Century BCE," I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out. Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago. "Ah, I found it," Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. "She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her." "Anat?" I queried. "The other dead First House," Krasimira sighed. "They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance." "Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?" I was surprised I'd never asked. "Ishara were the emissaries of the Host," Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense. "What does this mean?" Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now. "Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?" Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously. "You used the name, didn't you?" Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response. "Yes, " I answered. "Because no one warns him of shit," Pamela huffed. "You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy," she acknowledge my First, "knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him." "You didn't warn him," Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance. "Not my job, Buttons," Pamela chuckled. "I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?" "I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?" I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence. "That's not your fault, Sport," Pamela snorted. "Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?" "Who is this guy and why does he hate us?" Buffy interjected. Pause. "Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died," Krasimira informed the lot of us. "And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak," I grunted. "The word would not have been enough," Tadêfi comforted me. "There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no," she gasped as the pieces came together. "I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business," I petted Tadêfi's cheek. "Please enlighten us," Elsa grumbled. "I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played," I grinned. "Any ideas?" "We could call them," Pamela produced my phone. "Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance." Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it. "What of the other two?" Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. "Was the Foe dead as well?" A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that. "The Foe is complicated," I lied. "His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side." A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter. "The thing going on inside your head?" Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning? "It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that," I stated. "Are you acting in the best interest of the Host," Elsa studied me. "I am not sure," I confessed after half a minute's introspection. "So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set," I added jokingly. "As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in." "Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here," Elsa insisted. "Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?" Buffy rose to the challenge. "We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him." Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that. "I have the answer for that," Katrina spoke up. "I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?" "More than ever, but the Council is meeting," I sighed. "Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice," Katrina suggested. "Appoint someone to stand with her." That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me. "I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side," I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite. Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent. "That is Daphne of House Cotyttia," Pamela corrected me. Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue. "The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter," Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance. Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise. "I don't know why I did that," Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw. "Worry not," I cooed. "I had that coming, Dot Ishara," I dodged another one, "isn't happy with me right now." Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond. "Animaniacs," Pamela snorted. "I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson." "I'm not your grandson," I countered. "Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame," Pamela's eyes danced with amusement. "That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest," I pointed out. "Amazons don't have an incest taboo," Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies. "Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later," I commanded. "Bestiality?" only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed. "The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore," Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. "I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though." My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement. My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together. Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties. I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there. "Katrina, " I began. "Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine," Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook. "Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?" Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'. "I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor," I replied. "I give crappy customer service." "You give awesome customer service," Katrina riposted. "That's the problem." "Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth," Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations. "They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much," I defended myself. "So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy," Desiree muttered. "Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7," I griped. "I am a sexual being too, I have needs." "What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?" Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'. "Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun," I grinned. "And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel." "Except for house members," Buffy insisted. "No exceptions," Elsa demanded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Pamela resolved the issue. "No more Amazon boinking for him." She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky. They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory. I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter. Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me. Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt. Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call. "How are you doing?" she quickly inquired. "Good," I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. "I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on." I put my hand over my phone. "Delilah, are you packing heat?" I asked softly. She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1. "Ruger Alaskans," she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within. I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots. In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one. "Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, " my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble. I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol. No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot? "Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you," the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. "We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?" "Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later," I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. "Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy," I answered her. "There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved." "You can't create lists of people for execution," Maddox persisted. "That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty." Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté. "Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?" Delilah mocked Maddox. "I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore," Virginia fought back. "Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests," Delilah countered. "You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you." "I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference," Maddox glared. "The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard," Delilah chortled. "I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter." Maddox turned to me. "That was succinct and rather accurate," I murmured. "Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse." "Why don't we test this quaint theory?" FBI Lass challenged us. "Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days," I sighed. "I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends." "There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance," she said. "Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list," Pamela began. "He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl. You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive," my mentor continued. "Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse. I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit. I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office. I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are. I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you," Pamela was coming to her crescendo. "Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system." "Lady, why are you so angry with the world?" Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know. "Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon," Pamela bantered back, "with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat." "Who?" I inquired. "She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions," Pamela answered. "And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?" I smiled. "Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities," she laughed. "I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, " I joked. "Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?" Maddox rumbled. "I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall," Rachel sighed dreamily. "Atta girl," I play-punched Rachel's shoulder. "What is your part in all of this?" Maddox turned to Rachel. "I'm the head of his bodyguard detail," Rachel gave her confession of the damned. "And you want to kill him, " Virginia struggled to keep up. "Given time, you will too," Rachel promised. "According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him," glaring at me, "badly." "The nun doesn't want me dead!" I vocally protested. "It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business," Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work. "Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?" Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. "You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin." Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone. "Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave," Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl. "Yes Ma'am," I swore. "I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth." "I'll have to accept that," Javiera conceded. "Give Maddox the phone back." A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work. "Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?" both Virginia and Rachel asked. "Oh! This is going to be good," Pamela leaned forward excitedly. "Change the course of human history," I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky. That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor. "Thank you, Pamela." "You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter," Pamela patted my cheek. "Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first ." "That was uncalled for," Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected. "Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco," I countered. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Pamela shone with joy and pride. "You act like I have a choice," I sighed. "Touché," Pamela nodded. "I see what you mean about these two," Maddox addressed Rachel. "Oh my God," Delilah laughed. "You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived." "Not you too?" Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other. By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back. "You stay here," Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'." Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'. "What are we doing today?" Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered. "I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended," I stated calmly to Miyako. "I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?" Miyako responded. Blink. "I didn't know I spoke it either, " I mumbled. "No sweat," Pamela tried to hustle us along. "He's a quick study." Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning. "How important is this to my people?" Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue. "If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us," I related my suspicions. "My mind and heart are joined in this decision." "I give you my pledge," Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine. "Does anyone care to enlighten me?" Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese. "Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us," I informed her. "Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?" Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable. I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well. "Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?" Maddox groaned. Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared. "Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM," FBI girl growled. "One of us," Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather. "You will place your weapons there," the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task. "No," was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either. "Go," he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela. "Well, that didn't take long," I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given." He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic. She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang. "Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication," a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. "The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace." "No, I understood you perfectly," I assured him. "We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?" Pause. "Do you hate these people, or like them?" Maddox grumbled. "With you, I can't quite tell." "That would not be acceptable," the man finally responded. "Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed." "Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life," I countered. "Your personal safety is guaranteed," was the counter-offer. "That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem." By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. "What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being," I riposted. "If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone," back at me. "It isn't important to me," I stated. "Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head." Pause. "Your koumiss is getting warm." "We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof," I gave a little back in the humility department. "Tiger Lily, " "On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block," Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better. "Wakko Ishara?" it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment. "May I explain the sacred names?" Rachel requested of me. "I have a feeling these two might become a fixture." "By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep," I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future. "Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?" Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate! "We need complementary rings," Pamela remarked. Sweet! "Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, " Rachel began. "The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?" Maddox gasped. "You are beyond nuts." "And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone," Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, "as Dot Ishara." Maddox's face shown with disbelief. "Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures," Rachel stared at Maddox. "I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac." "When did you two go into battle?" Delilah wondered. "In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it," Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead. "You mean when I face-planted?" I grinned at Rachel. "Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you," Rachel smiled my way, sex. "Let me get this straight," Miyako finally spoke up. "You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?" "Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover." Maddox replied, then to me, "I read the report." "Then you repeated the action a few minutes," Miyako. "Less than a minute later," Maddox clarified. "A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby," Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies, We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach. "Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?" Maddox mumbled. "One of us," Pamela retorted. "One of us." "One of us," I joined in. It helped cut the tension. The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back. "Thank the spirits you are here," I whispered, "all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy." "Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too," Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy. "Koumiss," the boss offered. I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago. "Mare, or yak?" I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser. "Mare, of course. Please sit," he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit. "We should pray for the protection of the spirits," was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary. He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from. "Nice woman," I told the leader. "She looks like she has seen many winters." Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender. The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on. "She is my daughter," the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty. "My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time," he slapped down his boundaries. Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck! "What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you," I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad. Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier. "Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity," O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM. "It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas," the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. "How can your people and mine better get along?" 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open. "No time for that," I replied. "I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste." Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction. "Where is he?" O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone. "I can do you one better," I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down. Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars. He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind. "I know that place," O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. "I know that place." The image faded. Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone. "You have work to do," I stated as I cleared my throat. "I will leave you to it." I stood. "What do you wish for this gift?" O T reached out and touched my sleeve. "When the time comes, maybe you can help us," I replied. "A man who asks for nothing can expect anything," O T smiled for the first time. "Go." I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live. "I'm still stunned we got out alive," I sighed. "I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did." No one said anything for a minute. "Why would he have killed us?" Delilah inquired. "You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?" Pause. "What did the rest of you see and hear?" I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried. "I didn't know you spoke Chagatai," Miyako smiled at me. "You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense." "MRI," I groaned. "Magnetoencephalography," Pamela said in the same breath. "Mine is better, Boyo." "What is going on?" Rachel upped her alertness level. "We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device," Pamela insisted. "He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, " Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. "We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline." Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in. "I'll call Katrina," Rachel informed us. I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited. "How many guns do you have on you?" Pamela zinged me. The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right. "Ah, two?" I responded. "Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well," Pamela shook her head. "What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?" Delilah studied the group. "It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?" Pamela confessed her uncertainty. "I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens." "I don't even know how to begin reporting this," Maddox muttered. "Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel," Pamela comforted the crowd. I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'. (Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey) I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk. Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority. The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum. They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed. I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask. "Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?" she whispered when she though no one was close by. "I'm not sure what you mean," I whispered back. "I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?" Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge. Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go. Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy. I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience. Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could. Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning. That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu. Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people. Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone. Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before. Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes. Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax. How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors. When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'. I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out. Hospital highlights: (Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally ) Female Chief of Neurosurgery: "Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?" (Guilty looks all around) Neuro Surgeon: "What are all these needle marks?" Havenstone Medico, "Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma." Neuro Surgeon: "Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body." (Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals) HM: "He has retained excellent muscle tone." Neuro Surgeon: "Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?" HM: (offended) "Of course not, he's Greek." Neuro Surgeon: "What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?" HM: "Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic." Neuro Surgeon: "Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?" HM: (in a positive note) "No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet." Neuro Surgeon: "Isn't he a bit, big for you?" &

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

El Tango ya cumplió más de un siglo, los pioneros de nuestra música nos dejaron hermosas composiciones con sonidos recordables y fina poesía a raudales, suficiente como para que nuestra música rioplatense, perdure más allá de las centurias. Durante todo este tiempo, exportamos tangos a los rincones más recónditos del mundo, ahí donde se oye buena música, de calidad, estamos presentes, aún en intérpretes clásicos, donde el ritmo tanguero los encantó y supieron volcar talento en piezas inolvidables que hoy podemos disfrutar en sus elevados y variados estilos. También hay un Tango nuevo, interpretado por jóvenes inspirados, talentosos y creativos, que recrean nuestra música de manera excelsa y con maestría. Nos deleitan con viejas y nuevas piezas que son una delicia para nuestros oídos, renuevan corazones y se hacen presentes para que el Tango jamás pierda vigencia y sigamos oyendo sonar este 2X4 porteño, que embriaga multitudes más allá del idioma o el lugar donde se hagan vibrar los instrumentos, acompañados de voces cargadas de fuerza y nostalgia, que nunca dejarán de oírse, desde un concierto a toda orquesta, hasta un cuarteto de cuerdas. Tango Sensei se renueva y en dos programas, muestra su intención de acercarle a nuestros seguidores, los más destacados intérpretes de este Tango nuevo que guarda el sabor de sus comienzos y la permanencia de aquello que suena eterno.

El Tango ya cumplió más de un siglo, los pioneros de nuestra música nos dejaron hermosas composiciones con sonidos recordables y fina poesía a raudales, suficiente como para que nuestra música rioplatense, perdure más allá de las centurias. Durante todo este tiempo, exportamos tangos a los rincones más recónditos del mundo, ahí donde se oye buena música, de calidad, estamos presentes, aún en intérpretes clásicos, donde el ritmo tanguero los encantó y supieron volcar talento en piezas inolvidables que hoy podemos disfrutar en sus elevados y variados estilos. También hay un Tango nuevo, interpretado por jóvenes inspirados, talentosos y creativos, que recrean nuestra música de manera excelsa y con maestría. Nos deleitan con viejas y nuevas piezas que son una delicia para nuestros oídos, renuevan corazones y se hacen presentes para que el Tango jamás pierda vigencia y sigamos oyendo sonar este 2X4 porteño, que embriaga multitudes más allá del idioma o el lugar donde se hagan vibrar los instrumentos, acompañados de voces cargadas de fuerza y nostalgia, que nunca dejarán de oírse, desde un concierto a toda orquesta, hasta un cuarteto de cuerdas. Tango Sensei se renueva y en dos programas, muestra su intención de acercarle a nuestros seguidores, los más destacados intérpretes de este Tango nuevo que guarda el sabor de sus comienzos y la permanencia de aquello que suena eterno.

Jesse Hale with Shinobi Tree joins us as our guest. Jesse is a hobbyist furniture maker, designer, and a pivotal part of the Hyperion Project. Jesse details his journey from 2X4 projects to his outstanding studio quality furniture. We also delve into his contribution to Pepe Lima's Hyperion Project. Check it out!Jesse Hale:@shinobi_tree on Instagram@hyperion_project2023 on InstagramWWing News: Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Events are back- 1st at LAPWoodpecker's Dado NutCMT Dado Blade - EU CompliantHarvey - Table Saw Big Eye Rip Fence SystemMWA Podcast - Patreon Page@mwa_podcast on Instagram

Jesus hardly ever helped people the same way. The post Disciplined with a 2X4 appeared first on Key Life. To support this ministry financially, visit: https://www.oneplace.com/donate/1543/29

Former pro football player and public servant, Marty Amsler has died at the age of 81... The Indiana General Assembly convened this morning in Indianapolis to take up school children's issues among others... A man who regretted selling an SUV is arrested after he worked the car over with a 2X4...See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Jagbags welcomes Val Kyriakopoulos back to the podcast for an ESSENTIAL DISCUSSION of all things heavy metal. We talk our favorite heavy metal bands and albums, and present our curated 45-minute Table Busting Playlists. We also talk about what got us into heavy metal initially, and how the music has changed over the years. We also talk speed metal, thrash, doom metal (riffs), and jazz metal (to Len's chagrin). Get ready to turn it up ear-bleeding levels and prepare your 2X4 to smash everything in sight!

From Army Ranger medic to Builder of Tactical gear. A barreled action duct taped to a 2X4! Good times!

There are very few professional wrestlers who have found a simple gimmick that works with the public and stick with it. “Hacksaw” Jim Duggan has done that as successful as anyone for decades. His wrestling gimmick is simple and memorable. It consists of carrying his 2X4 to the ring, raising his thumb and yelling “Hooooo!” and fans loved it. Particularly when the patriotic character followed up with a chant “USA! USA! USA! USA!”

Jason got smacked in the face with a 2X4 driving down the street some buisnesses are using the same location as different identities on delievery apps. Also we had a few Hops Roulette.

In last week's episode I spoke about a concept that I dig into today - the difference between between detached … and unattached. Yes, I hear you. “Come on, Cathy. They're not that different those words.” Perhaps not in literal meaning, but for this gal, the way they land is much different. The latter is about staying present, connected and committed - even in the face of difference. The former is about an attitudinal f*ck you. In today's episode I share the journey of my last few weeks, the big ah ha and how being smacked in the head with a 2X4 sometimes is just what the doctor ordered. What does leadership actually mean in today's world? Good questions, right? That's what Cathy Brooks, thought. And it's why she created Talk, Unleashed – a new podcast of entirely candid conversations with fascinating people doing remarkable things. This weekly podcast features guests from arts and entertainment to business to technology to food to activism to politics (well, we'll see on that last one). Talk Unleashed invites these influencers to consider the things that have led to them to where they are, the lessons they've learned and how all those things can come together to create a better world. This podcast compliments Unleashed Leadership, the coaching business through which Cathy helps clients unearth and untether their own internal leadership and connect with others in a way that truly engages. Recently Cathy joined Paris-based start-up OpenBubble as Co-Founder and Chief Communications Officer. OpenBubble's mission is to break through issues of isolation and separation in society by creating a powerful way for people to connect and talk – with no agenda. #leadership #responsibility #standingassource #detachedversusunattached #grounded #OpenBubble #Conversation #connection #TalkUnleashed #UnleashedConversation #UnleashedLeadership #FixYourEndofTheLeash

Ashley is back from vacation and talks to Jordan Lenz of 2X4's for Hope about their upcoming fundraiser this Saturday. Bob Gough talks to Randy Phillips about bringing the Stinson Summit to Quincy Regional Airport, also this weekend.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT HEARING A STORY THAT HAS A DONKEY, A 2X4, A KIA SOUL, A BUMPER STICKER AND A BOATLOAD OF QUESTIONS?

Jesus hardly ever helped people the same way. The post Disciplined with a 2X4 appeared first on Key Life.

Programón con un notón al ritmo del 2X4 al gran Raúl Lavié y una charla a puro fútbol con Fernando Lavecchia de T&C.

Jolly Old Saint Nicholas (Performed Upon a 2X4)

Jolly Old Saint Nicholas (Performed Upon a 2X4)

Don't screw around. Download this episode RIGHT NOW. Then prepare to flip tables and take a 2X4 to every window in sight -- because we're talking the music of the legendary rock outfit Thin Lizzy. We take you through all the albums, and also construct a 45-minute playlist of the band's top jams. (OKen's playlist was called "Ultimate Tin Lizzy") We take you through ALL the "go to IKEA, buy all the furniture, take a break to assemble it all, and then smash them" jams. Riffs we should ALL wake up to! How did Thin Lizzy not have #1 hits in every country for 26 weeks?!?? TUNE IN AND YOUR LIFE WILL GET BETTER INSTANTLY!!

Digital sales are about leveraging yourself, your service, your products, and the available digital platforms to build relationships. Social selling is where you get to socialize, connect, and have conversations. Liz Wendling emphasizes that social channels are connected to real people in the real world having real conversations. You have to humanize the connection so they feel you're there to help. One of the ways Liz connects with potential clients is through her “Verbal 2x4.” Listen to this episode of Sales Reinvented to learn more about her social selling strategy! Outline of This Episode [1:21] The difference between digital and social selling [2:27] How to improve your social selling skills [3:36] How to use Liz's “verbal 2x4” [4:48] The characteristics of a great digital seller [5:55] Stop apologizing and stop being self-serving [7:41] Top three digital selling dos and don'ts [10:11] Liz's verbal 2X4 put into practice How to improve your social selling skills Liz sees room for improvement in both empathy and understanding as well as flexibility and advocacy. Selling isn't about pushing your products but listening to your potential customers to understand what they need. Only then can you solve their problems. You also have to be flexible with the changing marketplace. Potential clients want to work hand-in-hand with someone who wants to help and believes they can do so.  Liz's strategy is perfect because it works for her. She makes sure her message hits someone with a “verbal 2x4.” She wants to get their attention to move them toward a conversation. What can you do to get someone's attention? What can you do that lands with an impact? The characteristics of a great social seller Authenticity, flexibility, and dedication are necessary attributes for any seller. Liz emphasizes you must be flexible in your process, authentic in your approach, and dedicated to follow-up and follow-through. You have to be able to have conversations (and resurrect the dead ones). Many people give up on themselves far too early in the process and blame it on the customer because “they don't know what they want.” Be flexible and shift the message or conversation to re-engage potential clients.  Stop apologizing, stop being self-serving, and start serving Liz implores salespeople to stop apologizing and being self-serving with messages. What does that mean? Liz gets far too many messages saying, “I'm so sorry to bother you…” or “I know you're busy, so I'll be brief.” It not only puts the salesperson in the less-than position but does nothing to build confidence in the person you're reaching out to. Get rid of apology language. Secondly, don't make it all about you. Make it all about your customer. Don't say things like, “I'd love to get on your calendar” or “I'd love 30 minutes of your time.” You're telling someone what YOU want instead of inviting them into a conversation that they want to be a part of.  What are Liz's top three digital selling dos and don'ts? Listen to learn more! Liz's verbal 2X4 put into practice Liz teaches her clients to prospect on LinkedIn with a “verbal 2x4.” Liz focuses on the pain, problem, challenge, issue, or dilemma that her target market is muddling through. One area she focuses on with her consulting practice is family law attorneys. They're spending a fortune to get leads. But they often fall short in sales conversations and conversions—so they're losing a lot of money.  Liz's message hits home: “Many of the firms I work with are struggling with this, they're spending a fortune on that, but here's what the end result is.” Then she'll ask for a conversation. They often respond with, “Are you a fly on the wall? How do you know this?”  They think their attorneys are bad at closing, not fully realizing that they're actually bad at opening. Instead of her pushing for a conversation, they're the ones asking to get on her calendar. The outcome is always a great conversation. If you have a message that lessens the noise, you can have real honest conversations from an authentic place.  Connect with Liz Wendling Connect on LinkedIn Follow on Twitter Connect With Paul Watts  LinkedIn Twitter  Subscribe to SALES REINVENTED Audio Production and Show notes by PODCAST FAST TRACK https://www.podcastfasttrack.com

Jay takes you back to Jimmy Carter days breifly while introducing you to inflation. Why is this happening now? Did Covid have anything to do with it? Did you know the cost of a 2X4 is up 300%? Jay will show you a way out of the direct Washington attack.

Thanks for joining us…as farmers take to the fields they're learning that world crop supply and demand for those crops will be up this year. If it plays outright, and there are many weather and water variables, it could be a good year.And speaking of supply and demand, have you tried buying 2X4s or plywood lately. Supply and demand are at play there too…as our P And E members found out:Logging operations move at a swift pace on Canary Creek just outside of Cataldo, Idaho. The nation's building supplies are scarce and expensive and that's stepped up logging in North Idaho.“There's just a huge demand for lumber.” That's Reid Ahlf with the Idaho Forest Group. He gave theIdaho Farm Bureau's Promotion and Education Committee a tour of the logging operation, so members could see first hand the lumber supply and demand issue.“Last 10 years very few homes were built. According to the latest Housing report so far this year, 1.7 million housing starts, that's a 30.2% increase over last year. Cost of 2X4's and plywood are skyrocketing to record high if you can find them,” added Ahlf.“Then all of sudden there's this huge demand for lumber, and we can't make it fast enough,” said Ahlf.Promotion and Education Members see first hand what's happening in the lumber market, and they're learning new logging techniques that are fast and efficient, P and E Chair Alan Clark:“It's exciting to see all the big equipment. Just like agriculture, there's so much that goes into producing a 2X4 that's in the store. We see that they're in there, we can go and pick them up whenever we want but these men and women out here working, provide that lumber for us, the infrastructure and the manpower it takes to produce the lumber, Its just amazing to be out here on the mountain and see the process,” said Clark.That's it for this podcast…thanks for listening…I'm Jake Putnam…

#191 - Returnal / Chasm / TMNT: Arcade Attack / Poutine congelée Dans ce 191e épisode, on discute d'une tonne de choses! Bruno s'en va dans l'espace pour se faire massacrer par des martiens puis en redemande dans Returnal. Dom manie l'épée à merveille et explore des cavernes hostiles peuplées de goblins verts dans Chasm. Fred aka Leonardo troque le katana par un 2X4 pour frapper des ninjas mal foutus dans TMNT: Arcade Attack. On parle également des vieux clubs vidéo, le futur de Nintendo, Xcloud, les mangas, les jeux de table, la poutine congelée, et plein d'autres sujets grace à vos excellentes questions! Tout ça et bien plus! Bonne écoute!

#191 - Returnal / Chasm / TMNT: Arcade Attack / Poutine congelée Dans ce 191e épisode, on discute d'une tonne de choses! Bruno s'en va dans l'espace pour se faire massacrer par des martiens puis en redemande dans Returnal. Dom manie l'épée à merveille et explore des cavernes hostiles peuplées de goblins verts dans Chasm. Fred aka Leonardo troque le katana par un 2X4 pour frapper des ninjas mal foutus dans TMNT: Arcade Attack. On parle également des vieux clubs vidéo, le futur de Nintendo, Xcloud, les mangas, les jeux de table, la poutine congelée, et plein d'autres sujets grace à vos excellentes questions! Tout ça et bien plus! Bonne écoute!

A minor technical glitch at the start of the show, 2 mins and then we get back to normal. Must be Manny with way too much on his plate these days. We discuss the rising costs of material, from lumber to metals, to everything is seeing increases and we begin with the why. We begin the show with stats on how high lumber prices have gone from the 80’s to as recent as 2020 and how the USA is Canada’s #1 customer followed by China as #2 and that leaves next to nothing for the Canadian industry. Canada is a world leader when it comes to softwood and our government officials made deals to give it all away and that is the real reason why we are now paying for an $8 2X4. Time for a RENOLUTION!!! At the beginning of 2020 Jim and Dan of Caruk Hall decided to downsize after they invested into a new office space and they even had to let a few people go and consider where things were heading and Jim feels it will not be “normal” until 2022. As contractors we have to anticipate where the markets are heading and consider standing your ground with your labour rates but you also have to consider reducing your profit points, maybe lower 1 or 2 even 4 points that way we can still get the job and everyone has work. We end today’s show on an interesting question, more of a four/five part question…how would you describe the perfect client and how would you describe a bad client? How would you describe a good or bad GC and what is your threshold for staying or walking away from the scope? Thank you to everyone for adding their comments and two cents for this show. @mas_araz @kyle1302 @jordanvers @versahomes @IamYodaOk @kb007 @nestorbarsllc @longjonggingers @homestarroofing @rahulderrodra @cluelessframer @viawoodworking @blucontractors @captainlirp @gibsoncarpentryinc @marleausactionmaintenance @dkmay87 @lewiswoodworking @yo.prmn @nickelgeneral @greekbuilder @blders.ca @tilebychristoppher @integrabell @e6analytics @upperlevelfinishes @b.curriecontracting @thejakedekker @electricallocal69 @ryanmatthews411 @lonewolfdrywall @ryanaberin @rjhattonrenovations @tonygdcontracting @mackconstructionsinc @fortunatos @cullenmch @stonesthrowconstruction @brydonperryconsinc @matthewvincentbg @khan.kharpentry @ksinteriorllc @binsplusdisposalsolutions @blackbroncoconstruction @nickoulton @northridgecorp @catarquiconstruction @renosbybill @cafecoccoalatte @mselyan @sever_homes @carpenteronsite @joemconstruction @baruchbuilderscorp @joefraschini @vanhoornscustom @ritewayconstruction @mikemooresold @macneilconstruction @gonellhomes @philbarbosa30 @hardworkcanada @righteouscontracting @sidde @rahulderodra @khan.kharpentry @nwoplumber @cascoagency @sheetmetalsteve @vivhosking @franksflooring @kylescustomwoodworks @tacobelli14 @jpstile @daytonhardwoodco To all of our listeners, old and new, thanks for all the support, the kind words, the emails and messages about our little podcast. The word is spreading, tell your friends, family, subtrades, suppliers, tell everyone and anyone about The Construction Life. Want a sticker, contact Manny at info@theconstructionlife.com or info@hardcorerenos.com or DM Manny @hardcorerenos He will mail you a sticker free of charge anywhere in the world. Don’t forget to find Jim @jimcaruk @carukhallconstruction www.carukhall.com info@carukhall.com 416 546-8602. Lastly, find Manny @hardcorerenos www.hardcorerenos.com and info@hardcorerenos.com 416 433-5737This is The Construction Lifewww.theconstructionlife.com

Today, I'm delighted to invite you to my virtual kitchen table for a chat! I grew up discussing the Cardinal issues of life with my family around the kitchen table—and I continue to do so.  I've considered launching this podcast for the past 2 years. So why now? Perhaps it's because of our collective experience of COVID-19—a tragic and traumatizing situation that has refined our focus on what truly matters in life. The global pandemic is the cosmic 2X4 to the head that has awakened us to what matters most—the things of Cardinal importance. So, let's take advantage of this wake up call. Let's choose to muse about what truly matters instead of obsessing on the minutia of life. Curious as to the topics of conversation? Rest assured, the overarching themes of aging, caregiving, and the end of life present a myriad of concerns for musing. What does it mean to age well? How do we answer the call to care for family and friends? Why is change so hard? How can we become more resilient? Why are we scared to death of death? How do we grieve? Who are we called to be? What are we called to do? How does faith shape our experience of life and death? These are just a few of the questions we'll consider as we muse about the Cardinal issues of life around our virtual kitchen table. So, pour a cup of coffee. Settle into your favorite chair. Take a deep breath. It's time to chat! 

SYNERGY is a common term used in self-defense and Life Defense. Basically SYNERGY becomes available as soon as we stop fighting and start using the potential, great multiplier. Every time we work together in any fashion with something, or someone else, we have potential SYNERGY. Described in self-defense it might look like an attacker pushing a smaller defender, when at the last moment the defender SYNERGIZES motion with the much larger, stronger attacker and the attacker in essence stumbles on by. Perhaps the attacker then decides to laugh at themselves and they both go on their way chuckling about the situation… Think of all that potential power… In the world of Life Defense we might consider all energy a gift just waiting to be unwrapped like a box of chocolates. Think about it…even an attacker has a gift for us. Recognizing this “gift” might be all that is needed. In fact, ultimate SYNERGY could be the solution to many of the world's problems. In fact with SYNERGY all around us, why wouldn't it be the solution to all the world's problems? Did you know two oxen pull more weight together than each can pull alone? Also, 2 2X4 boards together are stronger than each separately. SYNERGY! What if you could look at any person, situation or even conflict and see a multiple of potential power. Why wouldn't you SYNERGIZE? Allen Hughes Life Defense #allenhughes #lifedefense #synergy --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/allen-hughes/message

Do you allow Ryan Pace full autonomy over the draft and future picks? The Hawks are no joke, but we still do the Blackhawks minute. Randy Johnson bag of fastballs vs Meller with a 2X4 - who do you got?

Recorded show this week where I dive into the Rockin 101 interview archives and pull out WWE Hall of Famer Hacksaw Jim Duggan and the greatest WWF Intercontinental Champion of all time The Honky Tonk Man.Merch - https://teespring.com/stores/official-izzy-presley-storeRetro Jersey TShirt only $20 (XXL $25)Shirt + Roadie Pack (Lighter/Flask/Dog Tag/Tumbler) + Signed Photo - $70 (XXL $75)Shirt + Roadie Pack +Signed Photo + Zoom/Skype Call - $100 (XXL $105)Complete Podcast Package:Shirt + Roadie Pack +Signed Photo + Drunken Summit Appearance - $200 (XXL $205)All prices include shipping in the continental USA (EXCLUDING EBAY SHIRT PURCHASES) . Payments via Paypal paypal.me/izzypresleyShow DonationsPaypal - paypal.me/izzypresleyVenmo - @realizzypresley CashApp - $izzypresley

Hernán “Cucuza” Castiello (51) es un cantor porteño y tanguero hasta la médula que siempre escuchó y asistió a recitales de rock, otra de sus pasiones musicales. Nunca tuvo prejuicios a la hora de fusionar el tango con el rock y esto quedó demostrado en su último álbum titulado Menesunda Tangolencia Rockera. En este material interpreta un repertorio del rock nacional en ritmo de 2X4 con invitados de lujo de los dos géneros. El disco estuvo nominado en los Premios Gardel de la Música en el rubro Mejor Álbum Fusión/World Music, compartiendo categoría con artistas consagrados. En esta entrevista con Radio Voces de Río Tercero (Córdoba), el cantante habló de su participación en la Gala de los Premios Gardel, donde hizo un video colaborativo con el trapero Ysy A y la legendaria Amelita Baltar. También contó del espectáculo con Hernán Casciari, su relación con la provincia de Córdoba y sus comienzos como niño prodigio de la música ciudadana. Tampoco podía quedar afuera de la charla su trayectoria como futbolista profesional (Argentinos, Tigre, Aldosivi de Mar del Plata) y su vínculo con el club Atlanta, colores que heredó en la sangre por vía paterna.

Stay hydrated and disassemble white supremacy one block at a time.    Terrace Martin - Pig Feet feat. Denzel Curry, Kamasi Washington,   G Perico & Daylyt   Anderson Paak - Lockdown   Pharoahe Monch, Styles P, & Marco Polo - Same Shit, Different Toilet   Meek Mill - Otherside of America   J. Cole - Snow On Tha Bluff   Lil Baby - The Bigger Picture   Noname - Song 33     Swietlana - Pyl & Kurz   Attitude Adjustment - Bombs   Straight Ahead - Who's To Blame   Systeme D - Another Day   Thee Undertakers - America's Dream   Dada - Aleksandrija   Boye - Kade Na Dnu Okeana   Romanticne Boje - San     Segunda Clase - Preview Track   Mad Laughter - Demo Song 2   Vertical Scum - Predator   Rote - No Contact   Tappo - Fuck Off Forever   Zyfilis - Eldens Systrar   Violent Christians - Forgotten Few   Invalid - Exile   The Annihilated - Push Me Around/Abuse of Power   Impotentie - Stille Rebellen   Subdued - Sanctuary Is Nowhere   Geld - Nocturnal Hand     Kitchen And The Plastic Spoons - Happy Funeral   Arsenik - Swedish Boy   The 2X4's - Little Cities   X-iles - Indecision   Devo - Turn Around   U.K. Viva - Radio Saviour   James Baldwin - Dick Cavett

Pam Sears leads the way in overcoming all of life's obstacles. Pam was fired from her job unexpectedly. Then with her two young boys decided it was time to leave her unsupportive husband. This was done during a time when women seldom left a husband with no support, no job, and no fallback plan. Pam had a strong belief in herself and knew it would work out. She started attending a massage school and became a business owner. Everything was on track, personally, professionally, and financially. The business was doing great; boys were growing into wonderful men when it happened. Pam calls it her '2x4' moment. You know, when you get hit by a 2X4 totally unexpectedly. She found out that she had breast cancer. Another large obstacle she would have to overcome. With a strong level of tenacity, Pam promised herself she would overcome and come out stronger. Pam survived and in fact even thrived. She learned that self-care is important and to find love in all occasions. I think of Pam as the Heart Lady. Pam takes pictures of all the hearts she sees in the Universe. Reminding her followers to also practice self-care and be filled with love. Now, faced with a massive economic downturn, Pam is poised to face yet another obstacle. But with typical Pam optimism, she knows all will be well. Her beloved camera broke, no worries for Pam, she went to a pawnshop and bought another. Her business took a dip. That's fine she is rethinking her offering, how to offer them and trying new avenues to get her message out there. Pam is a woman of conviction who does whatever it takes to get her message of love and overcoming what life throws at you. Check out Pam's online website or her YouTube channel. Here's to you Finding Your Blue Rose. Interested in learning how Grow Your Business - Make Money - Change the World? Check out my free Facebook Group: Blue Rose Community.

Each of us has created a unique belief system and reality.  It’s how we choose to live our lives. The speed and direction of your journey are determined by…Y.O.U.  No one else.  Nobody else’s footsteps lead exactly where you are going.   Most of us, especially we women over 50, find ourselves having re-lived patterns that were not our own true choices. Suddenly, it seems, our careers, lifestyles and life choices no longer support who we are at our core. This retirement thing is different than anything we’ve experienced before.   Life happens, doesn’t it?  Five years turns into twenty; toddlers become successful adults with toddlers of their own; 30th and 50th High School class reunions are being attended.  All of a sudden, we realize we have more years behind than ahead of us. Then the 2X4 hits our cerebrum:  “This is MY life, too”. Now you’re retired.  Guess what?  This time can be chosen, identified and lived as YOURS.  Your time.  Finally. Hey! Does that make you feel guilty?  Selfish?  For many of us, taking control of our very own time, needs, desires, wishes…that has been taught to us that it’s NOT OK!  We’ve been trained that as a Good Mom, a faithful and dedicated wife, it’s our job to make sure our kids and our spouse are happy, that their lives low smoothly forward, that they are successful.  Many of us have been conditioned that it’s our job, our responsibility to make sure everyone is taken care of…despite negative ramifications to ourselves Guess what?  Now, for the most part, our children are grown.  Our spouses' careers have ended.  We are at a time when we are able to focus on us  …. I’ve said in my mind a million times “YEA!!  This is MY life, too!!” How do we even begin to figure out what we want to keep and what to discard…I’m talking about thoughts, mindset, actions… This is a very exciting time in life…re-firement.  I think it is as much fun as being a new High School student, or our first year of college and graduation!  Remember the excitement of your first real job??!  How bout the joy of accomplishment of buying your own car for the first time…or your own home?  Remember the joy of the birth of your children, watching them grow into cool responsible adults?  All of those experiences equal the amazing phase we are in now…retirement, re-firement, choosing this time as OUR TIME.  It’s not really the end of anything, except for what you choose to release. This retirement phase of Life is choosing to take the fork in the road….forging our own path as ourselves…following our own footsteps! How much fun is this???   Nothin like it!! Learn more about the Cool Retired Women’s Club at www.CoolRetiredWomensClub.com.  Join our private Facebook group by clicking here:  http://bit.ly/2kmBNIy

"I had an old friend and he was a true relic of a man. He ran a saw mill where I used to buy my lumber for some building projects here at our camps. And you know what? His name was Mr. Plumber. And he was in his mid eighties, at least as he lived out his final days of his life in these historic Ozark mountains. I spent hours visiting with this savvy old character." Family Discussions: What is faith that works and why is this kind of faith a true faith, and a sincere faith and a saving faith? Why is faith dead if it doesn't have arms and legs? How does faith work? What is an example of faith that works? Transcription: 00:14 Man, I love building stuff. I love 2X4's. I love nails and hammers. I'm a boy. But uh, I've had as much fun finding my lumber as I have using my lumber. I want to tell you about somebody who used to give me lumber in a minute. You'll never forget this man. We're going to read from James Chapter two verse 14 today, and it says that "what use is it in my brethren, if someone says he has faith but has no works, can that faith save him? If a brother or sisters without clothing and need of daily food, and one of you says to them, go in peace, be warmed and be filled. And yet you do not give them what is necessary for their body. What use is that? Even so faith if it has no works is dead being by itself. But someone may will say, you have faith and I have works. Show me your faith without the works. And I will show you my faith by my works." 01:10 I had an old friend and he was a true relic of a man. He ran a saw mill where I used to buy my lumber for some building projects here at our camps. And you know what? His name was Mr. Plumber. And he was in his mid eighties, at least as he lived out his final days of his life in these historic Ozark mountains. I spent hours visiting with this savvy old character. And one time I asked him where he went to church, he scowled at me and told me he would never go to a church because the people of one church bought some lumber from him probably 30 years before. And they cheated him on some money they were supposed to pay Mr. Plumber and he died never having gone back to church. 01:51 What use was that Church and all of their beautiful prayers and hymns? You know what good are 16 bibles in a home if they're not read? What good is a huge savings account if it's not used for those in need? What good is a smile that's not shared with somebody? You know what uses a hug or an I love you that's not given today? What use is faith without work? I just see so many homes. I mean, so many marriages and so many parents have so many kids who are just starving for love and so many people in the hallways of schools that are dying for a friend. We've got faith. We've got God's word. Now it's time to put that faith into action. 02:35 The discussion questions today are this: number one, what is faith that works and why is this kind of faith a true faith, and a sincere faith and a saving faith? And question number two, why is faith dead if it doesn't have arms and legs? And then discussion question three, you know, bread and butter, peanut butter and Jelly, faith and works, they always come as twins, don't they? How does faith work? What is an example of faith that works? 03:12 And the thought for the day is this: yesterday we talked about the less fortunate. Can someone around your family share how they put their faith into action lately? Faith and works. Siamese twins. Let's put our faith to work today and let's come home tomorrow. Let's talk about the smiles we put on people's faces.

Girls learn the most important thing about themselves is how they look. Boys learn the most important thing about girls is how they look. Girls look at themselves Boys look at girls. Girls are held responsible for boys looking. Girls change how they look. Boys keep looking. The problem isn’t how girls look. The problem is how everyone looks at girls. Solve the problem by teaching everyone that girls do not exist to be looked at.This is a quote by Lindsay Kite that hit me like a 2X4 written. If it didn’t hit you, read it again because it’s painfully true. As young girls, we are taught that the most valuable thing about ourselves is how we look. Even IF your mother was a positive role model and encouraged you to have a healthy self image you can’t escape it. It’s a systemic problem deep within the roots of this country that we MUST speak up about. It all starts with us, and we need to... STOP buying into the ads tell us we aren’t beautiful if we age. STOP congratulating/“liking” before and after pictures on social media (this idolizes thin-ness). STOP following people/accounts that feed into your perfectionism and using their bodies to sell something. STOP buying from companies that are marketing to your insecurities. STOP thinking if you didn’t have belly rolls or cellulite that you’d be worthy of a better life!!! Obviously, I have a lot to say here. Click the pink play button below and let’s squash this shit. We all, as women, deserve it.  SHOW NOTES : https://wildlyalive.com/stop-letting-diet-culture-profit-off-your-insecurities-create-a-kickass-self-image-ep-14

We open Mooney's Vault to relive Episode 4 of Prime Time with Sean Mooney and Hacksaw Jim Duggan! Hacksaw and Mooney discuss the classic episodes of Saturday's Night Main Event, including one of the biggest angles in that show's history, where Hacksaw knocked out Andre the Giant with his 2X4. Plus, more Andre stories and they open up the listener mailbag to answer your questions as they celebrate America's birthday. Hooooo!!!Need more Mooney? Join Team Mooney over on Patreon for exclusive bonus episodes, clips, Q&As, live watchalongs and so much more! www.patreon.com/primetimemooneyShop Prime Time merchandise at www.mooneytees.com