Podcasts about Beg

Joey Visits An Overheated Milf On Nude Day, MILF scores her neighbor boy’s cock. Based on a post by silkstockingslover. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. "It's so fucking hot in here," Sarah Waterton sighed. It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of July, her air conditioning wasn't working, it was a hundred degrees outside, and it didn't feel much cooler than that inside her house; perhaps even hotter; even with all the windows wide open. She was glad her period ended last night. She was about to invite herself over to Carol’s backyard pool. She was doing some dishes wearing only a bikini, and she was seriously considering discarding those two tiny pieces of fabric too, when there was a knock at the door. The mother of two (her daughter Cynthia was away for a summer session at college, and her son Nate had recently graduated from high school) went to the door and was surprised to see Nate's best friend, Joey, standing there. Although she wasn't actually naked, she felt a little self-conscious to be standing in front of an eighteen-year-old guy so scantily dressed. "Hi, Miss Waterton," Joey greeted, trying to keep his jaw from plummeting down to the porch's floor like in a Loony Toons cartoon, since his all-time MILF fantasy was standing right in front of him, in a bikini that couldn't possibly hide her enticingly voluptuous tits. "Hi, Joey. Nate isn't home," she said, taking in the boy's appearance. He was slightly dorky as a younger teen, but he'd pretty much grown into a ruggedly handsome man in the past year. She'd known Joey since he was five, when her young family moved in across the street from Joey’s family. Her son and he had been best friends ever since. "Yeah, I think I left my charger in the basement game room, last time I was here," he said, trying hard not to peer into the valley of pendulous tit ravine that was beckoning him in. "Oh, sure; go ahead and check," Miss Waterton said warmly, letting him through the doorway. She couldn't help noticing he'd taken several glimpses at her swaying tits, with pretty much acres of them showing. He came in and said, "Oh shit, it's a sauna in here!" "Yeah, the air conditioner broke down this morning," the sweaty MILF sighed heavily. "Umm, I could take a look at it," Joey offered, as he tried not to stare at his best friend's Mom's tits too blatantly; and failing. "You could?" she asked as she closed the door, perhaps unwisely, because of the heat. "Yeah, I work during the summers for my Uncle Frank's plumbing and heating business, so I have a fair amount of experience not only with toilets and such, but also air conditioners and heaters," he explained, now admiring her long legs. She was really one hot older woman; and he could easily fill a ‘Big Gulp’ cup full with all the loads he'd shot while imagining he was fucking her. "That would be great," Sarah said gratefully, "I called every company I could google, and they all either didn't answer so I left a message they didn't answer, or they said they couldn't come over until the middle of next week at the earliest." "Yeah, they're all swamped during this heat wave," Joey said. "My uncle took a three-day weekend off for his fortieth wedding anniversary, or I'd be working today too." "Then thanks to you, today is my lucky day," she said. "I can't promise anything, but I'll give it a go," he said, trying not to ignite the throbbing cock in his shorts, and doing his best to hide that he desperately needed to adjust himself. Sarah happened to glance down and see an undeniable tent in the teen's pants. Part of her was flattered that she must have caused that erection, while another part of her was embarrassed for the same reason. "Is there anything you need from me?" He said, "Not really. I'll just go downstairs and take a look at the furnace." "The furnace?" she asked, that not making any sense to her. "Yeah, the air conditioner unit outside runs through the furnace in the basement," he explained, "that's why you can just switch the thermostat on the wall from heating to cooling and back again." "Oh, silly me," she laughed at herself, "that's so obvious." "No worries," he said, "it's likely not something you've ever needed to put any thought into," "I didn't until it stopped working," the sweaty MILF answered sourly. "I'll go check on it." "Okay, thanks." Joey took one more subtle look, or at least he thought it was subtle, at his best friend's Mom's cleavage, before heading downstairs. Sarah noticed his additional peek at her tits and the tent in his shorts as he left. Oddly; and confusingly; she felt a little tingle in her pussy. She supposed it wasn't that odd though, since he was actually a good looking young man. Plus, she hadn't been fucked in eight months. Her husband had left her for another woman two years ago. She'd gone on a couple of dates here and there since, but even though she'd had a terrible quickie eight months ago, when the guy had lasted less than two minutes and left her unsatisfied, she'd only ever come from her toys; of which she had a continuously growing collection, since she had a ferocious sexual appetite. In addition to three different expensive vibrators, she had a suction cup dildo for the bathroom wall, and hidden inside her walk-in closet was a Sybian. Yes, it had been several thousand dollars of expensive, but fuck, did it give her some great orgasms! But with all that said, she'd be lying if she claimed she didn't miss the great sensations of a real man with a living cock. She went to the washroom to pee, washed her hands, and came back to the kitchen to pull out the fixings she needed to make a salad. No way was she turning on the stove today; not even a burner! If Joey couldn't fix the air conditioner, she was definitely going out for dinner, and then perhaps to an air conditioned movie theatre. Once the salad was made, Joey came upstairs no longer wearing a shirt and said, "I'm going out back to look at the outside compressor." "Okay, sounds good," the suddenly distracted MILF said. Yes, she'd realized her son's best friend had bulked up in his senior year, but until this moment, she'd only seen him as Nate's nerdy friend. He'd finished high school with a 98% GPA for the four years, and would be attending UC Berkeley in the fall on a full ride scholarship, yet at this moment while she secretly admired his chiseled, sweaty chest, she saw him for the first time as an attractive man. He headed out the back door, and Sarah watched him leave, looking at him from the back end, and also for the first time, she noticed he had a great ass, and a rippled back. "What the fuck?" Sarah said to herself out loud, shaking her head for looking at her son's friend like he was a piece of meat. She definitely needed to get laid, and soon! She ate her salad, and he came back inside, saying, "I think I know what the problem is." "Is it fixable?" Sarah asked, the eighteen-year-old's impressive chest now all sweaty, and she couldn't help thinking how she'd like to lick that sweat right off of him. "I believe so," he said. "But to be sure, I need to check something else on the furnace." "Okay," she said, unable not to admire his perfect chest and pulsing biceps. While Joey headed downstairs, he sensed she was staring at him. He shook his head to clear away the impossible thought. Although during his senior year, he'd experienced a terrific reversal in his luck with the ladies. After a summer of plumbing work; which is surprisingly strenuous, when you're constantly inching yourself underneath floorboards towards impossible locations and such. He also made regular visits to the gym. In his senior year he was given head by Carrie, a chubby but cute girl on his debate team; then lost his virginity to Betty, a girl he met and competed against in the Speech competition. And he'd even gotten to fuck Amber for the last two months of the school year, a cheerleader who unfortunately was spending the summer in Europe. The suddenly horny MILF shook her head at her inappropriate thoughts. Needing to cool herself down both figuratively and literally, she went to the fridge and just stood in front of it with the door wide open for a few moments. She then took an ice cube from the freezer and slid it up and down and around her neck. It felt so nice to cool down just a bit! The melting ice ran down her chest, just as; "Oh my," Joey said, as he stared at the hottest woman he knew doing something that looked like it was straight out of an eighties sex comedy. His cock, which had gradually dropped into slumber while he worked, was now wide awake again, and ready for action in a heartbeat! But he must have made some noise, because... "Oh my, I'm so sorry!" Sarah apologized, hurriedly tossing the ice cube into the sink. "It's just so hot in here!" "But not for much longer; I almost have it fixed," he said brightly, wishing he could have been that ice cube; well; before she'd tossed it aside. "I just need to get something from my truck, and we'll be in business!" "Really? Sounds great!" she said. He left, and she thought to herself, ‘Oh, my God, how embarrassing!’ She reached for her phone to distract herself from her humiliation, and started scrolling through Twitter. He came back in and went back downstairs. As she scrolled through a bunch of ridiculous political posts that made her sigh at what appeared to be half of the country's idiocy, the discovery of an upcoming Hallmark movie that made her smile, and a funny cat video. She learned that today was National Nude Day (not to be confused with Naked Gardening Day, which was the first Saturday in May). She laughed, And given this heat wave, what a perfect day for it! Still sweating like crazy from the heat, she went and poured two glasses of iced tea; threw in four ice cubes each, so they'd stay cold for at least a few minutes, and went down to the basement to offer her unexpected handyman some ice cold refreshment. To her surprise, the basement was a little cooler than upstairs; which she wished she'd known earlier today. She found Joey with the side panel of the furnace off, tinkering with something. "I brought you a glass of iced tea," she said. "I figured you could use a cold drink." He stood up, accepted the drink and said, "Thanks, Miss Waterton, I could definitely use something cold." "No problem," she said. "And just so you know, now that you're pretty much all grown up, please call me Sarah." "Okay," he said, as he sipped his iced tea and again stared at the perfect body of his best friend's Mom, who was still wearing only her skimpy bikini. Sarah was doing the same thing; admiring her son's best friend's semi-naked body. "So; do you think you can fix it?" "Yes," he nodded. "I'm just trying to get it working temporarily, so I can go to the shop and get a part to fix it properly." "That's amazing!" "No problem." "It's also no problem that I owe you big time," she said. She inadvertently chose that moment to glance down at his crotch. "It's the least I can do," he said, "you've fed me lunches and snacks and things so many times over the years!" Sarah thought to herself, ‘I wouldn't mind you feeding me something right now,’ and then she couldn't believe such things were popping into her head. "Oh, it was my pleasure," she replied blandly, as she wondered how big his cock was. The tent in his shorts again hinted at it being a decent size. "No, the pleasure is all mine, Sarah," he said, in a lame, slightly awkward attempt at flirting. There was silence while Sarah caught the innuendo, and realized she herself had started the innuendo-ing, even if only inside her head. Being a psychiatrist, she knew the subconscious mind often initiated things before a person was consciously aware of them. He downed his drink, knowing he'd said the wrong thing, handed the glass back to her and said, "I should have this thing running at least temporarily in a few minutes." "That'll be great," Sarah said, realizing she'd made him uncomfortable. So she headed back upstairs, shaking her head at herself again. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me? He's eighteen years old! He's my son's best friend! His mother is one of my best friends. And yet; yet; he's fucking hot; and at his age, he can likely reload quickly and give me the multiple fuckings I so badly crave; and want; and need!’ Knowing she'd be using one of her toys the minute he left, she pulled up Literotica, like she often did. She didn't mind watching porn, but she really enjoyed reading porn. She enjoyed the slow burn of a well-written story, while video porn often had no story at all. Lately, she'd been reading gangbang stories, since it was a forbidden fantasy she assumed she'd never experience, but today she told the search engine of the website to look for eighteen-year-olds. To the horny MILF's surprise, the majority of the stories the engine found were about eighteen-year-old girls, including titles like Blacked Out: 18 Year Old Virgin, 18 and Horny, and the crazy title 80-year-old Neighbor. When she found one about a guy and a girl, she also found a guy and sissy one called 18-year-old Spies on 3 Women with the hot summary: 'Women put his young body to good use.' Just the summary made her pussy tingle while she fantasized how she could put Joey to very good use! She also saved Her 18-year-old Neighbor, and Summer Houseguest. She was still scrolling for more, since only the first one had really gotten her intrigued, although she knew she could serve as an excellent hostess to her current guest, if he gave her the opportunity. "Fixed," Joey announced as he came up the stairs, now carrying his shirt in his hand. "Really?" "Yes," he nodded, "but it will take at least a couple hours to get this upstairs area down to a reasonable temperature again." "Well, just knowing it will get cool in here is great," she said, feeling some slightly cool air wafting across her bare feet, since she was standing next to a vent. "May I ask you for a favor?" he asked. "Sure. Anything," she answered, and deep down, she meant it. ‘Just ask me to suck your cock. Just ask me to spread my legs so you can eat my pussy. Just order me to bend over the kitchen counter so you can fuck me’, were all wicked thoughts that popped into the horny woman's head. "Mind if I take a quick shower?" he asked. "Mind? Not a bit," she said and then offered, "Why don't you use mine?" "Really?" he asked. "Yeah, Nate installed a couple of extra sprays on the sides. It really feels wonderful," she replied. She didn't mention that one of the sprays was perpetually aimed to spray directly onto her pussy whenever she turned it on. "That'd be great," he said. "I'm all sweaty." "Yeah, you are," she said, the way a woman would say it in a porn film. Realizing that she hurriedly changed subjects by saying, "Umm, there are towels in the hallway closet right next to my bedroom." "Great, thanks," he said, his cock raging from admiring his fantasy MILF, and also the sexy way she kept looking at him. He left, and she shook her head at herself again. Then, as she heard the shower turn on, a wicked idea popped into her head. She was all sweaty too, so she, could reasonably use a shower! As she embraced the naughty thought, her horniness taking control, she sneaked into her bedroom. She dropped her bikini top and bottom on the floor, and she silently entered the bathroom. She paused to reconsider. ‘Am I really about to do this? Am I really going to enter the shower where Nate's naked best friend is showering?’ As she asked herself these questions, her body decided for her, as it resumed stalking towards the shower. Fate then confirmed the wisdom of her decision when Joey moaned, unaware that his MILF fantasy was right on the other side of the shower curtain, "Oh, yes, Miss Waterton, suck my cock just like that!" as she watched him, with eyes closed, jacking his cock with the hand he'd lathered up to use as lube. Emboldened by this confirmation, that he was as horny for her as she was for him; she slipped by the curtain and stepped into the shower right behind him and as she reached around his body to grab his cock, she whispered in his ear; "I told you to call me Sarah." "Miss Waterton!" he gasped, as he turned around to see his best friend's Mom completely naked, her big, hard nipples staring at him. "No no, I'm Sarah," she corrected him. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. Now say my name. “Sarah;” Joey was stunned! Her hand was on his cock, now stroking him, and her tongue was again in his mouth! He, of course, kissed her back, in awe of his sudden good fortune. When she broke the kiss, she asked, "Did you know today is National Nude Day?" "No," he said, still overwhelmed by what was happening. It's one thing, Joey thought, to fantasize all the time about having sex with your best friend's sexy Mom, but to actually have her hand on your cock and kiss you while you're both naked, was a whole different level of Wow! "Well, it is," she said in her best sexy and sultry tone, "and it seems to me that Fate has decreed you and I should celebrate this special day properly, don't you think?" "Yah, yes," Joey stammered, still trying to wrap his head around the miracle that was suddenly unfolding. "Now let me clean you all up," the sexy Milf said, grabbing the bar of soap and rubbing it all over his chest. "Joey, you've really turned into a sexy man!" "Oh, thanks," he moaned, as she washed his chest with one hand and continued stroking his hard cock with the other. "And I mean you're all man," she said, as she handed him the soap, lowered herself to her knees, and admired his seven-inch cock from very close up. He'd even shaved off all his pubes. What a considerate guy! "Oh, Miss Water, uh, Sarah," he groaned, as he stared down to see the beautiful woman on her knees, completely naked, with his cock in her hand while she studied it. "I’m still Sarah," she corrected him again. "Now let's make sure this impressive cock gets super clean." She then opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his cock! "Oh, God," Joey groaned, staring down in disbelief that Foxy Miss Waterton was sucking his cock! "Hmm," Sarah moaned on his cock, knowing, or at least assuming, that his first load wouldn't take long to extract, and wanting to feel that big warm load explode in her mouth. She'd always enjoyed sucking cock when she was young, and even until the last few years when sucking cock meant she wasn't getting fucked that night, as her husband became a one-and-done dick. Not like back when he could shoot two or three loads into or onto her during their multiple-orgasm marathon sessions. That said, this cock right now felt great between her lips, and she wasn't going to stop until she drained his young balls for the first time in a series. "That feels so good," he moaned, having learned during the short time since he'd begun having sex, that giving a girl compliments during sex, especially when she was giving him a blow job, was just common sense. She backed off of his cock and said, looking up at him, "I want you to come in my mouth, Joey. Can you do that for me?" "Yeah, shah sure," he stammered. That was the dream question any guy would love to be asked! "Good." she said, "because I haven't had a load shot into my mouth for a long long time." The hungry MILF then took the hard cock back into her mouth and began bobbing eagerly, while her right hand cupped his balls. Many women didn't know the power of ball handling and how it enhanced the guy's pleasure, and it usually expedited extracting his load. "Oh yes, don't stop," he moaned, this blow job easily the best one he'd ever had. And it was enhanced by her fingers playing with his balls, which he'd never experienced before. And the best part was that Miss Waterton was doing the sucking! "Hmm," she purred as she bobbed, focusing on only one thing; making this man-boy come and swallow his load. Not surprisingly, it didn't take long to reach her goal. "Oh Sarah, I'm about to..." he groaned, trying to warn her after only about a dozen strokes, but he spewed his load into her mouth before he could utter another word! She obviously didn't mind, and she didn't slow down at all, as the warm, salty seed smoothly filled her mouth and slid down her throat. Joey spasmed a couple of times, his orgasm very intense, and she kept sucking him throughout it. Once she'd swallowed it all, she slowed down, stood up and said, "Now let me help you get all cleaned up." "No, please let me help clean you up," he begged, feeling a rush of adrenaline, and even some confidence, as he dropped to his knees, the warm water spraying on his head and back, as he gently parted her legs and licked her nicely trimmed pussy. He wasn't totally inexperienced sexually with girls his own age, but Sarah was his first MILF. "Oh my, Joey!" she moaned, unable to remember the last time a tongue had touched her pussy; it was definitely pre-divorce, and it was probably a long time before that. "I've imagined doing this to you for a long time," he said as he parted her pussy lips. He'd figured out quickly that the best way to get blow jobs and sex wouldn't only be because he was willing to go down on a girl, but it would be even better if he was good at it. So he'd watched lots of videos, read how-to articles about it (thank heavens for the internet!), and he'd asked for lots of feedback and suggestions whenever he practiced on the girls he'd been with; all of them appreciated his eagerness to eat their pussies. He was astounded when he learned that many of his peers; the idiots; refused to eat pussy at all, but of course, the dumbasses still expected the girls to blow them. He was one of the rare guys who understood that both giving and receiving was the key to mutual pleasure in any sexual relationship. "Oh! Right there!" the MILF moaned in surprise, when his finger zeroed in on her G-spot, and she leaned back against the wall of the shower, lifted up a leg, draped it over his shoulder and closed her eyes; while his fingers and tongue kept working their magic. The leg over his shoulder parted her legs wider, and gave him much better access to get really deep between her pussy lips. He next parted them with both hands and really licked; using wide, flat, up-and-down paintbrush-like strokes; savoring her sweet-tasting fluids as he did. "Oh, please don't stop, don't ever stop," Sarah moaned, knowing that just like him, she wouldn't last long as his tongue worked her over, as this situation drove her wild, and as her uncontrollable lust had her nearing the brink already! He had no intention of stopping, and his cock; which had unloaded, but only once so far; remained completely erect and raring to go for round two. Her moans and quivering told him she was close, so he advanced his tongue to her clit, and began flicking at it. Sarah's entire body twitched with each flick of his tongue on her clit. It was very sensitive by this point, but it was oh so ready to join in on the action! Joey felt her body twitching and heard her moans increasing, as he continued to focus all his attention on her clit. He sucked it deep between his lips, while continuing to use his tongue on the tiny, ultra-sensitive portion of it that was inside his mouth. "Oh, Joey, oh; oh; oh," she moaned, as she came a minute or so later, grabbing his head and pressing it as deeply and forcefully as she could against her pussy, while she came and came! Joey lapped up her cum as best he could, his own cock flexing up and down between his legs at the thrill of getting his dream MILF off! "Let's dry off and go into my bedroom," she said, really needing his big thick cock inside her pussy; determined that this wasn't going to be a day remembered for only a one and done orgasm each. "Sure!" he agreed, as she reached behind him and turned off the water. She got out, handed him a towel, grabbed hers, and quickly dried herself off. "Come on," she said, even though he was still drying himself, as she grabbed his hand and rushed him across the room to her bed. Reaching the bed, she pushed and toppled him onto it, straddled him, and lowered her pussy just to touch down for now, on his still completely erect cock. "You okay with this?" she asked, but then she didn't wait for a reply as she sank down onto his seven-inch cock. "I, I; I am if, if, if you are," he stammered, as he watched the beautiful mother of his best friend lowering herself onto his cock. "Oh, I'm glad, because I wasn't about to take no for an answer," the Mom moaned, as she braced her hands on his chest and began slowly riding him. "I can't believe this is happening," he said, his words exactly what he was thinking. "But you've fantasized about doing this, haven't you?" The MILF asked, "I mean with me specifically?" as she joyously rode his cock. "All the time," he said, "and definitely with you specifically in mind; you're so gorgeous!" as he watched her riding his cock, and tracing her soft hands around his chest. "Then show me what you've been imagining," she instructed, as she sat straight upright and ground down on his cock. He reached up for her tits and cupped them. "You like those, do you?" she said, fully aware that she had a great pair of tits. "Yeah, I really do," he said, as he sat up somewhat and took her right nipple into his mouth. It was nice and hard! "Oh yeah! Play with my tits, suck on my nipples," the mother moaned, having very sensitive nipples. "So big," he said, as he cupped and sucked on both tits in turn, while enjoying the way she was slowly grinding her hips on his cock; a slow burn fucking. "Worship them," she ordered, "suck hard on my nipples!" And for a couple of minutes, perhaps more, he switched back and forth between the two hard nipples, cupping her heavy, firm mounds of flesh the entire time. "Now I want you to fuck me," she ordered, rolling off of him, lying on her back by herself and spreading her legs invitingly. "Really give it to me!" Joey didn't say anything at all as he got up, knee-walked between her spread legs, and slid his raging rod noisily all the way into her very wet pussy. "Oh yes," she moaned, "fuck me. Fuck me good!" Joey grabbed her by the ankles, pulled them together over her head, and then using them for balance, began pounding her pussy; knowing from his limited experience that this was the position the girls he'd fucked came the best. "Oh yes, Joey! Take control of me," Sarah urged, loving a man who could take charge. "Fuck me like a real man!" "You want it hard?" he asked, as he pumped his cock in and out of her wet pussy. "Yes," she moaned, "and I love a man who knows what he wants and takes it. So if you have any questions like, 'Is it okay if I do such-and-such to you?' don't bother asking, because the answer is, 'Hell yes, go for it!'" "Hmm," he groaned, as he held her ankles together and really slammed into her pussy. "Oh fuck, Joey, give it to me just like that!" Sarah moaned, her second orgasm rising rapidly. "Give me all of that big cock." "Beg for it," he demanded as he pulled out, something that had really worked wonders with Amber during the last couple of months, as he'd trained the sexy and popular cheerleader into being his begging slut. "Please, Joey! Shove that huge cock back inside my sloppy pussy. I'll do anything for it!" the Sultry Mamma begged, frustrated that his cock was no longer in her pussy. "Anything?" he asked, and he slammed into her hard; but only once; and then pulled back out. He was being the asshole. "You nasty boy, stop teasing me and just fuck me," she demanded, frustrated almost out of her mind, "I haven't been fucked in over well I won’t say, so just give me that big cock!" "No way!" he gasped, that dearth seeming utterly impossible. "Not a babe like you!" "Yes, me! And that's why I need it so bad right now," she moaned, as he resumed fucking her hard; this position allowing his cock to slam into her at a very stimulating angle. Joey wanted to give her the fucking she desired, so now he didn't let up at all, each thrust going as deep as he could pound it into her. "Oh yes, don't stop, don't stop," the MILF repeated, her second orgasm rising quickly again. And Joey didn't stop. He slammed into her as hard as he could, as fast as he could, her wild moans enhancing his determination not to slow down until she came! "Oh, fuck yes, Joey! Give it to me, all of that cock, all of that cock!" she rambled, her orgasm now teetering on the brink. The bedroom was still overheated, the jury-rigged air conditioner needing to work hard to eventually cool down the entire house, so they were both sweating profusely from their intense workout. "Oh Joey, oh Joey, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck!" Sarah screamed, as her second orgasm ripped through her. Joey didn't slow down at all while his fantasy MILF came on his cock. "Oh fuck," she moaned, her body quaking uncontrollably. Joey, wanting to try a different position, pulled out, flipped the trembling woman onto her side into a semi-fetal position, got behind her, and slid back inside her. "Oh yes, take whatever you want, baby," Sarah moaned, as she was jerked around like a live-action Barbie fuck toy. "You want more of my cock?" Joey asked, as he fucked her from behind on their sides. "I want it all," she moaned, "and all your cum, too!" "It's yours. Where do you want my load?" he asked as he fucked her good, reaching around to cup her top tit while he did. "Inside my pussy, on my face, or wherever else you decide to shoot it," she replied. She thought that either deep in her pussy or on her face would be really hot. "So it won't be a problem if I fill up this pussy with sperm?" "No problemo! Shoot that big load inside me, baby," she urged, since that option seemed to turn him on the most. "Oh fuck," he groaned, his second load bubbling inside his balls. "Fill my cunt, Joey," she incited, thrusting her hips to match his inexorable strokes. "Get ready for it," he warned, knowing he wouldn't last much longer. "Fill me right up," the MILF begged, longing to feel that load filling her pussy. "Oh fuck," he grunted a few strokes later, as he indeed did fill her up! "Yes!" she moaned, as rope after rope of his seed spewed into her long-neglected pussy. "Fuck," he said, as he kept pumping until he was completely spent. He then slipped out of her and flopped onto his back. Sarah rolled over, a cocktail of his cum and hers leaking out of her, and took his cock back into her mouth; tasting them both on his cock. "Oh," he moaned. After a minute, she asked, "Want to go back into the shower?" "Sure," he said. "Think you can reload again?" she asked. "A few more times," he assured her confidently. "Then let's find out how many bullets you've got stored up in this cannon for me," she said, as she pulled him off the bed, and they went back into the nice, cool shower. Six of his loads later; two down her throat, two in her pussy, one all over her tits, and a small final one on her face; while she too enjoyed about a dozen more orgasms. By the time they were both spent, the air conditioning had finally gotten the house comfortable (they'd taken a break for Joey to run down to the shop before it closed); they lay in bed together; still naked; Sarah nursing his cock; cum leaking out of her pussy while she hoped for perhaps one more load; when she heard some words that jolted her back to reality. "Mom! Joey! What the fuck?" "Umm; hi, Nate," she said after she'd taken the cock out of her mouth, "I guess it's time to tell you that Joey's now my best friend, too!"

Joey Visits An Overheated Milf On Nude Day, MILF scores her neighbor boy’s cock. Based on a post by silkstockingslover. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. "It's so fucking hot in here," Sarah Waterton sighed. It was a Friday afternoon in the middle of July, her air conditioning wasn't working, it was a hundred degrees outside, and it didn't feel much cooler than that inside her house; perhaps even hotter; even with all the windows wide open. She was glad her period ended last night. She was about to invite herself over to Carol’s backyard pool. She was doing some dishes wearing only a bikini, and she was seriously considering discarding those two tiny pieces of fabric too, when there was a knock at the door. The mother of two (her daughter Cynthia was away for a summer session at college, and her son Nate had recently graduated from high school) went to the door and was surprised to see Nate's best friend, Joey, standing there. Although she wasn't actually naked, she felt a little self-conscious to be standing in front of an eighteen-year-old guy so scantily dressed. "Hi, Miss Waterton," Joey greeted, trying to keep his jaw from plummeting down to the porch's floor like in a Loony Toons cartoon, since his all-time MILF fantasy was standing right in front of him, in a bikini that couldn't possibly hide her enticingly voluptuous tits. "Hi, Joey. Nate isn't home," she said, taking in the boy's appearance. He was slightly dorky as a younger teen, but he'd pretty much grown into a ruggedly handsome man in the past year. She'd known Joey since he was five, when her young family moved in across the street from Joey’s family. Her son and he had been best friends ever since. "Yeah, I think I left my charger in the basement game room, last time I was here," he said, trying hard not to peer into the valley of pendulous tit ravine that was beckoning him in. "Oh, sure; go ahead and check," Miss Waterton said warmly, letting him through the doorway. She couldn't help noticing he'd taken several glimpses at her swaying tits, with pretty much acres of them showing. He came in and said, "Oh shit, it's a sauna in here!" "Yeah, the air conditioner broke down this morning," the sweaty MILF sighed heavily. "Umm, I could take a look at it," Joey offered, as he tried not to stare at his best friend's Mom's tits too blatantly; and failing. "You could?" she asked as she closed the door, perhaps unwisely, because of the heat. "Yeah, I work during the summers for my Uncle Frank's plumbing and heating business, so I have a fair amount of experience not only with toilets and such, but also air conditioners and heaters," he explained, now admiring her long legs. She was really one hot older woman; and he could easily fill a ‘Big Gulp’ cup full with all the loads he'd shot while imagining he was fucking her. "That would be great," Sarah said gratefully, "I called every company I could google, and they all either didn't answer so I left a message they didn't answer, or they said they couldn't come over until the middle of next week at the earliest." "Yeah, they're all swamped during this heat wave," Joey said. "My uncle took a three-day weekend off for his fortieth wedding anniversary, or I'd be working today too." "Then thanks to you, today is my lucky day," she said. "I can't promise anything, but I'll give it a go," he said, trying not to ignite the throbbing cock in his shorts, and doing his best to hide that he desperately needed to adjust himself. Sarah happened to glance down and see an undeniable tent in the teen's pants. Part of her was flattered that she must have caused that erection, while another part of her was embarrassed for the same reason. "Is there anything you need from me?" He said, "Not really. I'll just go downstairs and take a look at the furnace." "The furnace?" she asked, that not making any sense to her. "Yeah, the air conditioner unit outside runs through the furnace in the basement," he explained, "that's why you can just switch the thermostat on the wall from heating to cooling and back again." "Oh, silly me," she laughed at herself, "that's so obvious." "No worries," he said, "it's likely not something you've ever needed to put any thought into," "I didn't until it stopped working," the sweaty MILF answered sourly. "I'll go check on it." "Okay, thanks." Joey took one more subtle look, or at least he thought it was subtle, at his best friend's Mom's cleavage, before heading downstairs. Sarah noticed his additional peek at her tits and the tent in his shorts as he left. Oddly; and confusingly; she felt a little tingle in her pussy. She supposed it wasn't that odd though, since he was actually a good looking young man. Plus, she hadn't been fucked in eight months. Her husband had left her for another woman two years ago. She'd gone on a couple of dates here and there since, but even though she'd had a terrible quickie eight months ago, when the guy had lasted less than two minutes and left her unsatisfied, she'd only ever come from her toys; of which she had a continuously growing collection, since she had a ferocious sexual appetite. In addition to three different expensive vibrators, she had a suction cup dildo for the bathroom wall, and hidden inside her walk-in closet was a Sybian. Yes, it had been several thousand dollars of expensive, but fuck, did it give her some great orgasms! But with all that said, she'd be lying if she claimed she didn't miss the great sensations of a real man with a living cock. She went to the washroom to pee, washed her hands, and came back to the kitchen to pull out the fixings she needed to make a salad. No way was she turning on the stove today; not even a burner! If Joey couldn't fix the air conditioner, she was definitely going out for dinner, and then perhaps to an air conditioned movie theatre. Once the salad was made, Joey came upstairs no longer wearing a shirt and said, "I'm going out back to look at the outside compressor." "Okay, sounds good," the suddenly distracted MILF said. Yes, she'd realized her son's best friend had bulked up in his senior year, but until this moment, she'd only seen him as Nate's nerdy friend. He'd finished high school with a 98% GPA for the four years, and would be attending UC Berkeley in the fall on a full ride scholarship, yet at this moment while she secretly admired his chiseled, sweaty chest, she saw him for the first time as an attractive man. He headed out the back door, and Sarah watched him leave, looking at him from the back end, and also for the first time, she noticed he had a great ass, and a rippled back. "What the fuck?" Sarah said to herself out loud, shaking her head for looking at her son's friend like he was a piece of meat. She definitely needed to get laid, and soon! She ate her salad, and he came back inside, saying, "I think I know what the problem is." "Is it fixable?" Sarah asked, the eighteen-year-old's impressive chest now all sweaty, and she couldn't help thinking how she'd like to lick that sweat right off of him. "I believe so," he said. "But to be sure, I need to check something else on the furnace." "Okay," she said, unable not to admire his perfect chest and pulsing biceps. While Joey headed downstairs, he sensed she was staring at him. He shook his head to clear away the impossible thought. Although during his senior year, he'd experienced a terrific reversal in his luck with the ladies. After a summer of plumbing work; which is surprisingly strenuous, when you're constantly inching yourself underneath floorboards towards impossible locations and such. He also made regular visits to the gym. In his senior year he was given head by Carrie, a chubby but cute girl on his debate team; then lost his virginity to Betty, a girl he met and competed against in the Speech competition. And he'd even gotten to fuck Amber for the last two months of the school year, a cheerleader who unfortunately was spending the summer in Europe. The suddenly horny MILF shook her head at her inappropriate thoughts. Needing to cool herself down both figuratively and literally, she went to the fridge and just stood in front of it with the door wide open for a few moments. She then took an ice cube from the freezer and slid it up and down and around her neck. It felt so nice to cool down just a bit! The melting ice ran down her chest, just as; "Oh my," Joey said, as he stared at the hottest woman he knew doing something that looked like it was straight out of an eighties sex comedy. His cock, which had gradually dropped into slumber while he worked, was now wide awake again, and ready for action in a heartbeat! But he must have made some noise, because... "Oh my, I'm so sorry!" Sarah apologized, hurriedly tossing the ice cube into the sink. "It's just so hot in here!" "But not for much longer; I almost have it fixed," he said brightly, wishing he could have been that ice cube; well; before she'd tossed it aside. "I just need to get something from my truck, and we'll be in business!" "Really? Sounds great!" she said. He left, and she thought to herself, ‘Oh, my God, how embarrassing!’ She reached for her phone to distract herself from her humiliation, and started scrolling through Twitter. He came back in and went back downstairs. As she scrolled through a bunch of ridiculous political posts that made her sigh at what appeared to be half of the country's idiocy, the discovery of an upcoming Hallmark movie that made her smile, and a funny cat video. She learned that today was National Nude Day (not to be confused with Naked Gardening Day, which was the first Saturday in May). She laughed, And given this heat wave, what a perfect day for it! Still sweating like crazy from the heat, she went and poured two glasses of iced tea; threw in four ice cubes each, so they'd stay cold for at least a few minutes, and went down to the basement to offer her unexpected handyman some ice cold refreshment. To her surprise, the basement was a little cooler than upstairs; which she wished she'd known earlier today. She found Joey with the side panel of the furnace off, tinkering with something. "I brought you a glass of iced tea," she said. "I figured you could use a cold drink." He stood up, accepted the drink and said, "Thanks, Miss Waterton, I could definitely use something cold." "No problem," she said. "And just so you know, now that you're pretty much all grown up, please call me Sarah." "Okay," he said, as he sipped his iced tea and again stared at the perfect body of his best friend's Mom, who was still wearing only her skimpy bikini. Sarah was doing the same thing; admiring her son's best friend's semi-naked body. "So; do you think you can fix it?" "Yes," he nodded. "I'm just trying to get it working temporarily, so I can go to the shop and get a part to fix it properly." "That's amazing!" "No problem." "It's also no problem that I owe you big time," she said. She inadvertently chose that moment to glance down at his crotch. "It's the least I can do," he said, "you've fed me lunches and snacks and things so many times over the years!" Sarah thought to herself, ‘I wouldn't mind you feeding me something right now,’ and then she couldn't believe such things were popping into her head. "Oh, it was my pleasure," she replied blandly, as she wondered how big his cock was. The tent in his shorts again hinted at it being a decent size. "No, the pleasure is all mine, Sarah," he said, in a lame, slightly awkward attempt at flirting. There was silence while Sarah caught the innuendo, and realized she herself had started the innuendo-ing, even if only inside her head. Being a psychiatrist, she knew the subconscious mind often initiated things before a person was consciously aware of them. He downed his drink, knowing he'd said the wrong thing, handed the glass back to her and said, "I should have this thing running at least temporarily in a few minutes." "That'll be great," Sarah said, realizing she'd made him uncomfortable. So she headed back upstairs, shaking her head at herself again. ‘What the fuck is wrong with me? He's eighteen years old! He's my son's best friend! His mother is one of my best friends. And yet; yet; he's fucking hot; and at his age, he can likely reload quickly and give me the multiple fuckings I so badly crave; and want; and need!’ Knowing she'd be using one of her toys the minute he left, she pulled up Literotica, like she often did. She didn't mind watching porn, but she really enjoyed reading porn. She enjoyed the slow burn of a well-written story, while video porn often had no story at all. Lately, she'd been reading gangbang stories, since it was a forbidden fantasy she assumed she'd never experience, but today she told the search engine of the website to look for eighteen-year-olds. To the horny MILF's surprise, the majority of the stories the engine found were about eighteen-year-old girls, including titles like Blacked Out: 18 Year Old Virgin, 18 and Horny, and the crazy title 80-year-old Neighbor. When she found one about a guy and a girl, she also found a guy and sissy one called 18-year-old Spies on 3 Women with the hot summary: 'Women put his young body to good use.' Just the summary made her pussy tingle while she fantasized how she could put Joey to very good use! She also saved Her 18-year-old Neighbor, and Summer Houseguest. She was still scrolling for more, since only the first one had really gotten her intrigued, although she knew she could serve as an excellent hostess to her current guest, if he gave her the opportunity. "Fixed," Joey announced as he came up the stairs, now carrying his shirt in his hand. "Really?" "Yes," he nodded, "but it will take at least a couple hours to get this upstairs area down to a reasonable temperature again." "Well, just knowing it will get cool in here is great," she said, feeling some slightly cool air wafting across her bare feet, since she was standing next to a vent. "May I ask you for a favor?" he asked. "Sure. Anything," she answered, and deep down, she meant it. ‘Just ask me to suck your cock. Just ask me to spread my legs so you can eat my pussy. Just order me to bend over the kitchen counter so you can fuck me’, were all wicked thoughts that popped into the horny woman's head. "Mind if I take a quick shower?" he asked. "Mind? Not a bit," she said and then offered, "Why don't you use mine?" "Really?" he asked. "Yeah, Nate installed a couple of extra sprays on the sides. It really feels wonderful," she replied. She didn't mention that one of the sprays was perpetually aimed to spray directly onto her pussy whenever she turned it on. "That'd be great," he said. "I'm all sweaty." "Yeah, you are," she said, the way a woman would say it in a porn film. Realizing that she hurriedly changed subjects by saying, "Umm, there are towels in the hallway closet right next to my bedroom." "Great, thanks," he said, his cock raging from admiring his fantasy MILF, and also the sexy way she kept looking at him. He left, and she shook her head at herself again. Then, as she heard the shower turn on, a wicked idea popped into her head. She was all sweaty too, so she, could reasonably use a shower! As she embraced the naughty thought, her horniness taking control, she sneaked into her bedroom. She dropped her bikini top and bottom on the floor, and she silently entered the bathroom. She paused to reconsider. ‘Am I really about to do this? Am I really going to enter the shower where Nate's naked best friend is showering?’ As she asked herself these questions, her body decided for her, as it resumed stalking towards the shower. Fate then confirmed the wisdom of her decision when Joey moaned, unaware that his MILF fantasy was right on the other side of the shower curtain, "Oh, yes, Miss Waterton, suck my cock just like that!" as she watched him, with eyes closed, jacking his cock with the hand he'd lathered up to use as lube. Emboldened by this confirmation, that he was as horny for her as she was for him; she slipped by the curtain and stepped into the shower right behind him and as she reached around his body to grab his cock, she whispered in his ear; "I told you to call me Sarah." "Miss Waterton!" he gasped, as he turned around to see his best friend's Mom completely naked, her big, hard nipples staring at him. "No no, I'm Sarah," she corrected him. Then she leaned forward and kissed him. Now say my name. “Sarah;” Joey was stunned! Her hand was on his cock, now stroking him, and her tongue was again in his mouth! He, of course, kissed her back, in awe of his sudden good fortune. When she broke the kiss, she asked, "Did you know today is National Nude Day?" "No," he said, still overwhelmed by what was happening. It's one thing, Joey thought, to fantasize all the time about having sex with your best friend's sexy Mom, but to actually have her hand on your cock and kiss you while you're both naked, was a whole different level of Wow! "Well, it is," she said in her best sexy and sultry tone, "and it seems to me that Fate has decreed you and I should celebrate this special day properly, don't you think?" "Yah, yes," Joey stammered, still trying to wrap his head around the miracle that was suddenly unfolding. "Now let me clean you all up," the sexy Milf said, grabbing the bar of soap and rubbing it all over his chest. "Joey, you've really turned into a sexy man!" "Oh, thanks," he moaned, as she washed his chest with one hand and continued stroking his hard cock with the other. "And I mean you're all man," she said, as she handed him the soap, lowered herself to her knees, and admired his seven-inch cock from very close up. He'd even shaved off all his pubes. What a considerate guy! "Oh, Miss Water, uh, Sarah," he groaned, as he stared down to see the beautiful woman on her knees, completely naked, with his cock in her hand while she studied it. "I’m still Sarah," she corrected him again. "Now let's make sure this impressive cock gets super clean." She then opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his cock! "Oh, God," Joey groaned, staring down in disbelief that Foxy Miss Waterton was sucking his cock! "Hmm," Sarah moaned on his cock, knowing, or at least assuming, that his first load wouldn't take long to extract, and wanting to feel that big warm load explode in her mouth. She'd always enjoyed sucking cock when she was young, and even until the last few years when sucking cock meant she wasn't getting fucked that night, as her husband became a one-and-done dick. Not like back when he could shoot two or three loads into or onto her during their multiple-orgasm marathon sessions. That said, this cock right now felt great between her lips, and she wasn't going to stop until she drained his young balls for the first time in a series. "That feels so good," he moaned, having learned during the short time since he'd begun having sex, that giving a girl compliments during sex, especially when she was giving him a blow job, was just common sense. She backed off of his cock and said, looking up at him, "I want you to come in my mouth, Joey. Can you do that for me?" "Yeah, shah sure," he stammered. That was the dream question any guy would love to be asked! "Good." she said, "because I haven't had a load shot into my mouth for a long long time." The hungry MILF then took the hard cock back into her mouth and began bobbing eagerly, while her right hand cupped his balls. Many women didn't know the power of ball handling and how it enhanced the guy's pleasure, and it usually expedited extracting his load. "Oh yes, don't stop," he moaned, this blow job easily the best one he'd ever had. And it was enhanced by her fingers playing with his balls, which he'd never experienced before. And the best part was that Miss Waterton was doing the sucking! "Hmm," she purred as she bobbed, focusing on only one thing; making this man-boy come and swallow his load. Not surprisingly, it didn't take long to reach her goal. "Oh Sarah, I'm about to..." he groaned, trying to warn her after only about a dozen strokes, but he spewed his load into her mouth before he could utter another word! She obviously didn't mind, and she didn't slow down at all, as the warm, salty seed smoothly filled her mouth and slid down her throat. Joey spasmed a couple of times, his orgasm very intense, and she kept sucking him throughout it. Once she'd swallowed it all, she slowed down, stood up and said, "Now let me help you get all cleaned up." "No, please let me help clean you up," he begged, feeling a rush of adrenaline, and even some confidence, as he dropped to his knees, the warm water spraying on his head and back, as he gently parted her legs and licked her nicely trimmed pussy. He wasn't totally inexperienced sexually with girls his own age, but Sarah was his first MILF. "Oh my, Joey!" she moaned, unable to remember the last time a tongue had touched her pussy; it was definitely pre-divorce, and it was probably a long time before that. "I've imagined doing this to you for a long time," he said as he parted her pussy lips. He'd figured out quickly that the best way to get blow jobs and sex wouldn't only be because he was willing to go down on a girl, but it would be even better if he was good at it. So he'd watched lots of videos, read how-to articles about it (thank heavens for the internet!), and he'd asked for lots of feedback and suggestions whenever he practiced on the girls he'd been with; all of them appreciated his eagerness to eat their pussies. He was astounded when he learned that many of his peers; the idiots; refused to eat pussy at all, but of course, the dumbasses still expected the girls to blow them. He was one of the rare guys who understood that both giving and receiving was the key to mutual pleasure in any sexual relationship. "Oh! Right there!" the MILF moaned in surprise, when his finger zeroed in on her G-spot, and she leaned back against the wall of the shower, lifted up a leg, draped it over his shoulder and closed her eyes; while his fingers and tongue kept working their magic. The leg over his shoulder parted her legs wider, and gave him much better access to get really deep between her pussy lips. He next parted them with both hands and really licked; using wide, flat, up-and-down paintbrush-like strokes; savoring her sweet-tasting fluids as he did. "Oh, please don't stop, don't ever stop," Sarah moaned, knowing that just like him, she wouldn't last long as his tongue worked her over, as this situation drove her wild, and as her uncontrollable lust had her nearing the brink already! He had no intention of stopping, and his cock; which had unloaded, but only once so far; remained completely erect and raring to go for round two. Her moans and quivering told him she was close, so he advanced his tongue to her clit, and began flicking at it. Sarah's entire body twitched with each flick of his tongue on her clit. It was very sensitive by this point, but it was oh so ready to join in on the action! Joey felt her body twitching and heard her moans increasing, as he continued to focus all his attention on her clit. He sucked it deep between his lips, while continuing to use his tongue on the tiny, ultra-sensitive portion of it that was inside his mouth. "Oh, Joey, oh; oh; oh," she moaned, as she came a minute or so later, grabbing his head and pressing it as deeply and forcefully as she could against her pussy, while she came and came! Joey lapped up her cum as best he could, his own cock flexing up and down between his legs at the thrill of getting his dream MILF off! "Let's dry off and go into my bedroom," she said, really needing his big thick cock inside her pussy; determined that this wasn't going to be a day remembered for only a one and done orgasm each. "Sure!" he agreed, as she reached behind him and turned off the water. She got out, handed him a towel, grabbed hers, and quickly dried herself off. "Come on," she said, even though he was still drying himself, as she grabbed his hand and rushed him across the room to her bed. Reaching the bed, she pushed and toppled him onto it, straddled him, and lowered her pussy just to touch down for now, on his still completely erect cock. "You okay with this?" she asked, but then she didn't wait for a reply as she sank down onto his seven-inch cock. "I, I; I am if, if, if you are," he stammered, as he watched the beautiful mother of his best friend lowering herself onto his cock. "Oh, I'm glad, because I wasn't about to take no for an answer," the Mom moaned, as she braced her hands on his chest and began slowly riding him. "I can't believe this is happening," he said, his words exactly what he was thinking. "But you've fantasized about doing this, haven't you?" The MILF asked, "I mean with me specifically?" as she joyously rode his cock. "All the time," he said, "and definitely with you specifically in mind; you're so gorgeous!" as he watched her riding his cock, and tracing her soft hands around his chest. "Then show me what you've been imagining," she instructed, as she sat straight upright and ground down on his cock. He reached up for her tits and cupped them. "You like those, do you?" she said, fully aware that she had a great pair of tits. "Yeah, I really do," he said, as he sat up somewhat and took her right nipple into his mouth. It was nice and hard! "Oh yeah! Play with my tits, suck on my nipples," the mother moaned, having very sensitive nipples. "So big," he said, as he cupped and sucked on both tits in turn, while enjoying the way she was slowly grinding her hips on his cock; a slow burn fucking. "Worship them," she ordered, "suck hard on my nipples!" And for a couple of minutes, perhaps more, he switched back and forth between the two hard nipples, cupping her heavy, firm mounds of flesh the entire time. "Now I want you to fuck me," she ordered, rolling off of him, lying on her back by herself and spreading her legs invitingly. "Really give it to me!" Joey didn't say anything at all as he got up, knee-walked between her spread legs, and slid his raging rod noisily all the way into her very wet pussy. "Oh yes," she moaned, "fuck me. Fuck me good!" Joey grabbed her by the ankles, pulled them together over her head, and then using them for balance, began pounding her pussy; knowing from his limited experience that this was the position the girls he'd fucked came the best. "Oh yes, Joey! Take control of me," Sarah urged, loving a man who could take charge. "Fuck me like a real man!" "You want it hard?" he asked, as he pumped his cock in and out of her wet pussy. "Yes," she moaned, "and I love a man who knows what he wants and takes it. So if you have any questions like, 'Is it okay if I do such-and-such to you?' don't bother asking, because the answer is, 'Hell yes, go for it!'" "Hmm," he groaned, as he held her ankles together and really slammed into her pussy. "Oh fuck, Joey, give it to me just like that!" Sarah moaned, her second orgasm rising rapidly. "Give me all of that big cock." "Beg for it," he demanded as he pulled out, something that had really worked wonders with Amber during the last couple of months, as he'd trained the sexy and popular cheerleader into being his begging slut. "Please, Joey! Shove that huge cock back inside my sloppy pussy. I'll do anything for it!" the Sultry Mamma begged, frustrated that his cock was no longer in her pussy. "Anything?" he asked, and he slammed into her hard; but only once; and then pulled back out. He was being the asshole. "You nasty boy, stop teasing me and just fuck me," she demanded, frustrated almost out of her mind, "I haven't been fucked in over well I won’t say, so just give me that big cock!" "No way!" he gasped, that dearth seeming utterly impossible. "Not a babe like you!" "Yes, me! And that's why I need it so bad right now," she moaned, as he resumed fucking her hard; this position allowing his cock to slam into her at a very stimulating angle. Joey wanted to give her the fucking she desired, so now he didn't let up at all, each thrust going as deep as he could pound it into her. "Oh yes, don't stop, don't stop," the MILF repeated, her second orgasm rising quickly again. And Joey didn't stop. He slammed into her as hard as he could, as fast as he could, her wild moans enhancing his determination not to slow down until she came! "Oh, fuck yes, Joey! Give it to me, all of that cock, all of that cock!" she rambled, her orgasm now teetering on the brink. The bedroom was still overheated, the jury-rigged air conditioner needing to work hard to eventually cool down the entire house, so they were both sweating profusely from their intense workout. "Oh Joey, oh Joey, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck!" Sarah screamed, as her second orgasm ripped through her. Joey didn't slow down at all while his fantasy MILF came on his cock. "Oh fuck," she moaned, her body quaking uncontrollably. Joey, wanting to try a different position, pulled out, flipped the trembling woman onto her side into a semi-fetal position, got behind her, and slid back inside her. "Oh yes, take whatever you want, baby," Sarah moaned, as she was jerked around like a live-action Barbie fuck toy. "You want more of my cock?" Joey asked, as he fucked her from behind on their sides. "I want it all," she moaned, "and all your cum, too!" "It's yours. Where do you want my load?" he asked as he fucked her good, reaching around to cup her top tit while he did. "Inside my pussy, on my face, or wherever else you decide to shoot it," she replied. She thought that either deep in her pussy or on her face would be really hot. "So it won't be a problem if I fill up this pussy with sperm?" "No problemo! Shoot that big load inside me, baby," she urged, since that option seemed to turn him on the most. "Oh fuck," he groaned, his second load bubbling inside his balls. "Fill my cunt, Joey," she incited, thrusting her hips to match his inexorable strokes. "Get ready for it," he warned, knowing he wouldn't last much longer. "Fill me right up," the MILF begged, longing to feel that load filling her pussy. "Oh fuck," he grunted a few strokes later, as he indeed did fill her up! "Yes!" she moaned, as rope after rope of his seed spewed into her long-neglected pussy. "Fuck," he said, as he kept pumping until he was completely spent. He then slipped out of her and flopped onto his back. Sarah rolled over, a cocktail of his cum and hers leaking out of her, and took his cock back into her mouth; tasting them both on his cock. "Oh," he moaned. After a minute, she asked, "Want to go back into the shower?" "Sure," he said. "Think you can reload again?" she asked. "A few more times," he assured her confidently. "Then let's find out how many bullets you've got stored up in this cannon for me," she said, as she pulled him off the bed, and they went back into the nice, cool shower. Six of his loads later; two down her throat, two in her pussy, one all over her tits, and a small final one on her face; while she too enjoyed about a dozen more orgasms. By the time they were both spent, the air conditioning had finally gotten the house comfortable (they'd taken a break for Joey to run down to the shop before it closed); they lay in bed together; still naked; Sarah nursing his cock; cum leaking out of her pussy while she hoped for perhaps one more load; when she heard some words that jolted her back to reality. "Mom! Joey! What the fuck?" "Umm; hi, Nate," she said after she'd taken the cock out of her mouth, "I guess it's time to tell you that Joey's now my best friend, too!"

Nereden Başlasam'ın bu bölümünde konu Türkiye'de Yılbaşı Kutlamalarının Tarihi. Mirgün Cabas ve Can Kozanoğlu'nun konuğu gazeteci Begüm Soydemir.

This week's episode is for every woman who has ever looked at her life — the career, the home, the relationships, the routines — and quietly wondered:How did I get here… and what do I actually want next?We're diving into the subtle identity shifts that happen over time — the ones we don't always see coming. The ones that show up after motherhood, after loss, after burnout, after you've held everyone else together for so long that you suddenly realize:I don't feel connected to myself anymore - and I want more.And in this episode, I'm sitting down with someone who understands reinvention in a way that feels both comforting and electrifying: Sharon Macey — host of the podcast “Mom To More,” who has devoted her work to helping women return to themselves and figure out their next chapter.Together, we explore:the quiet ways women lose their sense of identitythe “stuck” feeling that so many of us try to push awaywhat reinvention actually looks like — in real time, not the polished versionThis conversation is grounding and honest and full of those moments where you suddenly feel less alone — the kind that remind you your second act doesn't have to look like your first.You are allowed to want more, and you are allowed to discover parts of yourself you haven't met yet.This episode feels like exhaling — and maybe even like the very beginning of your next chapter.Thank You to Our Sponsors: • RMA of New York — our Presenting Sponsor and leading fertility care provider • Constantino's of Greenwich - our episode sponsor for the easiest dinners weeknights or weekends and don't miss their homemade ice cream that my kids BEG me for! Let's Connect!If this episode inspired you, please follow, rate, and review That Greenwich Life so more women can find these conversations. Follow me on Instagram @DorothyOnTV and check out my website www.DorothyOnTV.com for all updates and TGL merch. And watch this full episode on my Youtube Channel. Until next week - don't just live your life, LOVE it!

In dieser Episode von Energy Sparks schließen wir unsere Grundlagenserie zu Energiegemeinschaften mit dem großen Finale ab: Die Bürgerenergiegemeinschaft (BEG) Was macht die BEG so besonders? Welche rechtlichen und technischen Rahmenbedingungen gelten? Vorteile, Herausforderungen und praktische Tipps zur Gründung. Ob für Gemeinden, Unternehmen oder Privatpersonen – die BEG eröffnet völlig neue Möglichkeiten für die Energiewende. Jetzt reinhören und erfahren, wie du Teil einer Bürgerenergiegemeinschaft wirst!  

Bloomberg HT Editörü Begüm Nur Alkış'ın hazırlayıp sunduğu “Bu Fikir Tutar!”, her bölümde teknoloji ve girişim dünyasının yeniden şekillenen dinamiklerini ve yükselen trendleri odağına almaya devam ediyor. Bu bölümde KPMG Türkiye İnovasyon ve Teknoloji Danışmanlığı Lideri, Şirket Ortağı Gökhan Mataracı ile otomasyondan otonomiye uzanan yapay zekâ çağını, bu dönüşümün toplumdan ekonomiye yayılan etkilerini ele alıyoruz.

This episode opens the door to a conversation so many of you have been whispering about, DM'ing me about, and trying to navigate quietly on your own:how female friendships shift in midlife and especially in motherhood — and why it feels so confusing.If you've ever found yourself wondering why you don't talk to your friends the way you used to,why coordinating even a 15-minute coffee feels impossible,why some relationships feel stronger than ever while others suddenly feel misaligned,this episode is going to feel like a deep exhale.I'm joined by creator, author, and mom-of-two Julia Dzafic aka @lemonstripes whose honest conversations about motherhood, mental health, and the messy and beautiful behind-the-scenes of life resonate with so many women. Together, we unpack not just how friendships change as life piles on — but why they do.We talk about the shrinking bandwidth every mom feels, the guilt that creeps in when you're stretched too thin, and how to tell the difference between a friendship that needs nurturing - and one that has quietly run its course.Make sure you listen to the full episode because toward the end, we also get a special cameo from licensed therapist, author and my best friend, Alison Seponara aka @Theanxietyhealer who you have seen on the show before. She shares her clinical take on why so many women experience this shift, what friendship “misalignment” really means, and how to navigate the emotional layers of these transitions with more clarity and compassion.It's honest, validating, and the conversation we all need.Thank You to Our Sponsors: • RMA of New York — our Presenting Sponsor and leading fertility care provider • Constantino's of Greenwich - our episode sponsor for the easiest dinners weeknights or weekends and don't miss their homemade ice cream that my kids BEG me for! Let's Connect!If this episode inspired you, please follow, rate, and review That Greenwich Life so more women can find these conversations. Follow me on Instagram @DorothyOnTV and check out my website www.DorothyOnTV.com for all updates and TGL merch. And watch this full episode on my Youtube Channel. Until next week - don't just live your life, LOVE it!

Konuğumuz sanatçı Begüm Yamanlar ile Paris'teki Cité des Arts'ta ziyaretçilere açtığı atölyesinde bir araya geliyoruz ve Paris'teki üretim sürecini, Paris Photo başta olmak üzere fotoğraf alanındaki sergi ve etkinlikleri konuşuyoruz. 

FOX-TV, Motown, Royalty, Grammy Award Nominated Classic " Gin & Juice Snoop Dogg“Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice/ Laid back (with my mind on my money and my money on my mind)” ~ David Ruffin Jr. vocal on the Multi-Platinum Hit " Gin & Juice" The son of The Temptations Lead Singer David Ruffin whose voice can be heard on classic Hits like: : My Girl,  I Wish It Would Rain, Ain't to Proud to Beg", I'm Losing You, Beauty's Only Skin Deep & other Love Song of the classic group lineup during Motown's Golden Era.David's NEW Music " Time of My Life & Cry, Cry, Cry just dropped and  was recently on FOX-TV' Show "I Can See Your Voice"  Season 2David Ruffin, Jr.is a talented, versatile, up-and-coming recording artist whose voice can be heard on numerous hip hop projects by major recording artists like Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg's Grammy® Award winning Hip Hop, multi-platinum classic recording that he and Dr. Dre wrote entitled, Gin & Juice.  He is originally from Detroit, Michigan and currently residing in Hollywood, California.  DavidRuffinJr,comDavid has Summer Concert & TV Appearances with the Sons of Motown as well as other TV, Concert  Theatre Events in 2023David Jr. is blessed with a tremendous and powerful first and second tenor and an equally impressive Alto and Falsetto. D-Ruff can be heard on numerous hip hop projects by such stellar artists as Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Mel Man, Benzino, Dave Mays and Capone. As well as local Detroit talent such as T Money Green, Amir, Young Ruff, The Boss and Diamond. He has also performed with the legendary singing group, “The Dramatics”, as well as prepared several independent recordings over the last four years, and has emerged as an excellent songwriter. Highly touted music publications such as “The Rolling Stone”, “The Source” and “Rap Pages” have lauded David Jr. as a talented, disciplined, and strong artist. © 2024 All Rights Reserved© 2024  Building Abundant Success!!Join Me on ~ iHeart Media @ https://tinyurl.com/iHeartBASSpot Me on Spotify: https://tinyurl.com/yxuy23baAmazon ~ https://tinyurl.com/AmzBASAudacy:  https://tinyurl.com/BASAudCOMMENTS

*****TRIGGER WARNING******Talks of abortion and child deathIn a bonus episode of Black Girl Charmed, the girls finally dive into CBS's Beyond the Gates. Since the show premiered, the girls have been waiting to gush/vent about the daytime soap; thankfully, the podcast Gawds finally showed mercy. The girls break down the many ways the Richardson family fails the Miracle Baby and trace Martin's narcissistic roots. Applaud Dani's growth while hoping Bill hasn't lost his spot on the roster. Beg and plead for a storyline for Shanice and storylines that lead to the downfall of Dana/Leslie/Eva.Ponder when they will see the full extent of Vernon and Anita's power and influence as the Matriarch and Patriarch of Fairmont Crest.

*****TRIGGER WARNING******Talks of abortion and child deathIn a bonus episode of Black Girl Charmed, the girls finally dive into CBS's Beyond the Gates. Since the show premiered, the girls have been waiting to gush/vent about the daytime soap; thankfully, the podcast Gawds finally showed mercy. The girls break down the many ways the Richardson family fails the Miracle Baby and trace Martin's narcissist roots. Applaud Dani's growth while hoping Bill hasn't lost his spot on the roster. Beg and plead for a storyline for Shanice and storylines that lead to the downfall of Dana/Leslie/Eva.Ponder when they will see the full extent of Vernon and Anita's power and influence as the Matriarch and Patriarch of Fairmont Crest.

This episode opens the door to a conversation so many women have been craving: the mental and emotional side of perimenopause — the part no one prepared us for.If you've been waking up at 3am, feeling overstimulated, forgetting words mid-sentence, wondering why you don't quite feel like yourself anymore — this episode is going to feel like a deep breath.I'm joined by therapist and author Lauren Tetenbaum, whose new book Millennial Menopause is helping women understand what's happening in their minds and bodies during this transition. Together we unpack not just the physical symptoms we were never taught about — but the emotional toll that comes with it and how important it is for women to pay attention to their mental health at this time of life.We also talk about why so many women feel dismissed by doctors, what real support should look like, and how to advocate for yourself during this chapter of life.It's validating, eye-opening, and incredibly grounding.It's an episode you don't want to miss.Thank You to Our Sponsors and Partners • RMA of New York — our Presenting Sponsor and leading fertility care provider • Constantino's of Greenwich - our episode sponsor for the easiest dinners weeknights or weekends and don't miss their homemade ice cream that my kids BEG me for! Let's Connect!If this episode inspired you, please follow, rate, and review That Greenwich Life so more women can find these conversations. Follow me on Instagram @DorothyOnTV and check out my website www.DorothyOnTV.com for all updates and TGL merch. Watch this full episode on my Youtube Channel. Until next week - don't just live your life, LOVE it!

Jody Hojin Kimmel, Sensei - ZCNYC - 12/07/25 - Celebrating Buddha's Enlightenment, enjoy this talk of Hojin Sensei's in looking at Buddha's most important teaching —the story of his own journey to enlightenment. It is worth repeating as an essential guide for our own spiritual journey. In order to do this well we have to learn how to lean in. Rumi writes: You are the source of milk. Don't milk others! We have a channel into the ocean, Beg for that love expansion. Meditate on this” If we are willing, ability is given.

V oddaji Moja zgodba smo predstavili knjigo z naslovom Beg iz pekla, ki jo je že leta 1987 izdal Anton Torkar. To je že tretji ponatis o vojaški poti primorskega Slovenca, ki je bil kot italijanski vojaški obveznik poslan na vzhodno fronto v zaledje bitke za Stalingrad. Knjigo sta ob 80 letnici konca druge svetovne založila Muzej novejše in sodobne zgodovine ter Tolminski muzej, predstavila pa nam je urednica, kustosinja Irena Uršič.

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

EXT. CONCERT. DAY SUNNI BLU converses with CHARLES over a musical break STAGE LEFT of the MAINSTAGE. SUNNI BLU Thems the two prettiest girls right there. CHARLES yeah . ok. SUNNI BLU Grab em up. CHARLES What? SUNNI BLU Snatch em up. CHARLES Do you mean. SUNNI BLU Micheal Jackson style munich on that bitch. CHARLES What—? SUNNI BLU Them bitchez. CHARLES Are you saying—? SUNNI BLU They wont mind. CHARLES Uhhhh… SUNNI BLU I promise. watch . BOUNCER SUNNI's bodyguard BOUNCER crosses to center stage. SUNNI whispers into BOUNCER'S ear and he nods once and smirks; he then walks out into the crowd and picks up the two girls SUNNI aforementioned, tossing each of them over his shoulders, planting them on stage next to SUNNI; they scream and cry hysterically. SUNNI nods and smiles in self admiration and throws BOUNCER and CHARLES a thumbs up; CHARLES shakes his head slowly in disapproval, the GIRLS scream and cry hysterically; SUNNI grins and carries on about the show. CUT IMMEDIATELY TO: SUNNI BLU YO! I got mad lawsuits. MORGAN Plural? SUNNI BLU Like multiple! MORGAN well what were you expecting, sunni? Its 202#--? SUNNI BLU But michael is timeless! MORGAN And youre not michael jackson! SUNNI BLU You're right! I sold more records already than him! MORGAN ugh! PUBLICIST *does* {Enter The Multiverse} Hi, i'm Russell Brand. No, get out. I'm sorry,I— ? Get out, get out! Are we trading kings for whistle! Sacred things and torturers? Lill bitz I started talking to this guy from tinder Then I quickly realized he only texted me at like 3 in the morning, like “come over” So I started texting him really weird shit— Like really weird. Like, I would make sure before I sent it, I would re-read it and be like “Ya, that's weird.” “That's really weird.” Every time, just read it to myself and be like “Ya that's giving “you're psycho” Right off the bat. Kate Winslet is so good at late night. She talks mad slow and answers every open ended question with a paragraph of thoughtless nonsense— finally, at the end of the paragraph, she answers the question in yes or no fashion; in this sense, you've completely forgotten the question through redirection. This has taken nearly five minutes. Genius. Amidst a story, she begins to slowly decrechendo until she's murmuring in a near whisper so you really have to try to pay attention to what she's saying, which is almost nothing. So considerably nothing, that you lose thought in trying to grasp and accept the words— this is excellent banter, because of course, she isn't really saying anything. This has taken another five minutes. Captivating. INT. DENTISTS OFFICE. DAY. Who is Claude Von Wastvermaan? KIMMEL Doctor Claude Von Wastverman. Okay. Who is that? KIMMEL It's me. I'm Claude Von Wastverman. Dr.— KIMMEL Yeah. It's me. KIMMEL Why are you— what? KIMMEL This is my office. …why? Because— I use specific research and target demographics to seek out people who have no interest in whatsoever watching my show and do not recognize me in any way actively seeking a dental practitioner— Why? KIMMEL Because! My audience loves me. They want to see me— they have to like me! So? KIMMEL These people don't know who I am. They don't want to see me—and there's a good chance, they won't like me at all. …this is how you spend your free time? KIMMEL —and some of my vacation days! Jesus. KIMMEL Yeah. I'm not alright! How much does this office space cost? KIMMEL You wouldn't like it. And—I take very limited insurance. Did you…study dentistry, at all, at any point? KIMMEL Not at all— Oh, Jesus. KIMMEL But Claude might have for a short time— online. These degrees look legitimate. KIMMEL He was a really good guy. Wait. What. [a rubber glove snaps] KIMMEL If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment coming in at 2:30. …you're kidding me. KIMMEL I'm not—and she's always early. Get out. Gladly. He opens the door and leads him out of the office, looking startled startled and shaking his head. KIMMEL Good afternoon, Mrs. Evanston. Perhaps I was just looking for something and my brain saw what it wanted to— but it kept coming around in ways that were stranger and stranger, and I couldn't explain the thought of it, like I was connected to something. Jimmy Slithered. But it's okay, Cause I hate to see him prosper. Wait a minute? Did it enter for a second in your head to what had happened? Very obviously is it just exactly as you'd imagined. Wait a moment; Give a little gift for winter's entrance— Suddenly you're hating Christmas, Just infected with this sort of hatred That's been creeping up on them for centuries. Very well, then Skrillex. Very well, played ventriloquist act at the Rock And how hardened are you, the heart of all non immortal and broken? Are you succumbed to never wonder either? Cratered. Disrespect and spills of want, Spools and spills and towers of yarn, You're getting broker every warrant. You're the dark and hadn't opened, Oh to be so charmed and wanted. Jimmy Slitheted, But I caught him creeping in the forest, Well, done, Harper— Now you've got yourself a story Jimmy Slithered, but that's good— I had him at the fortress, And all our audience would want Is fourth wall being broken. So here fals the house of cards! The house of cards The house of cards. And here folds the broken hand— The broken hand. The broken hand. And here calls the shattered wand, The crypted want, The shadowed trumpet horn, there! And there upon the hill, There did I grasp and fall to follow, Though the crown had not the king, The ground was sure to've caught him! And so I clasped with all my might and grip, The humble role of which that is This, Unrolled and uttered: Feast of kings, Be you what may of Prince and time and also my own brotherhood and making, There is, shadowed in my own dear marker, Yet another coming death upon us! How now, my ritual, of that and thy and they and I, To this my mark, And so I sang as this does not a number— My posture does find comfort here and tie my breath to grass from under, Striped and torn my cloth, as does in this my fortune gathers; There my fate and here to all, as wind becomes her mother, And though I call to all, but one I am, And then another. LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare or sociopolitical targeting) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by a targeted individual. As it stands, It has become a modern sequel which adequately and astonishingly mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants for financial and political gain. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic tactical violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare or sociopolitical targeting) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by a targeted individual. As it stands, It has become a modern sequel which adequately and astonishingly mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants for financial and political gain. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic tactical violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare or sociopolitical targeting) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by a targeted individual. As it stands, It has become a modern sequel which adequately and astonishingly mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants for financial and political gain. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic tactical violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space. REBEL1. I am hypnotized; I am pain I am cryptonite I am in pain I am penalized; I am pinned l I am pinstripes on wide ties; I am Him. Pinterest, pintrest, pinholes And disinterest Centered sentiments And immigrants And ministrations, Images and insolence (And indulgences, patronages) Eclipses and rip titles, Paris Tiptons, And temptation Missing wages Push to shove and What are you doing, motherfucker?! To say the least, I'm a bit unconventional. Unexplainable joy And invisible ties and invincible triads Unimatatable charm, And prehensile times And forefathers before us Unpolished Well dressed hampers on leather and fortunes And doing and donuts and do this and don't-touches Mumbles of soft till and lunches and subtle distraction And coming construction Wages Ions I afford you To die now Like I want He's better at the body code Than old Colbert, He's one for one now Could this corrupt you— I didn't destroy her, I offered a suffix No longer for your number No longer for your hard times No longer for your warrants No longer No longer No four times Don't pan to the audience I'm a hole slow meltdown Don't man your own So wait, am I also telepathic? Yeah, that. Oh my! Is it like a two-way broadcast type— thing? Yeah, that part… Oh no, I'm so sorry. No you're not. You're right. I told you not to go looking into my thoughts. Check it all out, I bought prototypes Check it all out, I undug libraries Check it out, You're all alone at Walmart No longer working part time, The doors are closed and locked now, They're bound to stage a lock out You're better off on hard times You're better off on Lala Land No— Don't deport I want my art back No, don't deport; It's just a cake walk to apartheid, Remember mine now? Cheers to the world's longest monologues. Kudos to your picking up cabbage Remember the back for the wartimes The bagpipes have sounded; You're back to astonish us. No! I must have you a lesson; I'm back with my old will and testament No more Old Testament wanted I bought your sticks in Leviticus And so, Again– CUT TO: WILD PARTY. INT.EXT./WHENEVER HOW SICK IS THIS? NO! NOT THAT! I raised the dead from a half pipe I shoot the crowd out in foreign I can't remember my own Sam But I found one– For a dollar, For a wrong word And a hard song And a larger Go look, Now remember a rock star. Now that you're so stolen, Go back! You're unorthodox! Clear cut: you're a tragic Magic act– Now I'm back with a bag of tricks with my back out Learn your lessons. CUT BACK TO. INT./EXT. YO I'M SAYING A WIIIILD PARTY. WHENEVER YO, WHO DOES THIS?! What a party! I WANT TO GO HOME NOW! —I'M CALLING THE COPS! THIS IS YOUR HOUSE!!! {Enter The Multiverse} …And it's all house music all night. No, to that. Beg your pardon? I won't come. [The Festival Project ™ ] Now articulate your face muscles. My wat. Now you're bar banned. I had this at a festival once. What is it? A “whore salad” … All with a side of oxygen. Now you're in a tunnel. (A tunnel, a scone and a croissant) Now you're worse, warthog, immortal (Call your dad back, You're a bad son.) Now I'm out in the canyon With Chester McBadBat I got chest hair, And a straight out of the badlands Yes, I did mention this to my cousin Evan, But why ask that? So you heard everything I thought? Mmhmm. Hard times. —and everyone else? What is it like to have love man? I been locked out I'm a rock addict, But I'm damned now How's that fountain coming along? SUNNI BLU …it's just water. ARCHITECHT …yeah it's water. It's a fountain. SUNNI BLU —I WANT CHOCOLATE. Whose here? Not that guy! Four more beers? I just realized I never ever bought mine; I always had a tough guy. Box. What? Fight! I'm Eurovision And a hard remix— Ten minutes in and I realize I've already heard this. Oh yea, This Golden band of art, love and protection Perfection. Ohshea, shit! Who invited you? I got a 311 from Questlove!! Is that a beeper?! CUBE Since when are we on a first name basis? It would be weird to call you “ICE CUBE” Why's that? You. know? [the beeper goes off three more times] CUBE oh shit! What?! CUBE Nothin! Where the yard at?! sometimes it doesn't really matter Who the dialogue comes out of The whole point Is to put the art back into art projects Cause we all know it's been constructed And commercialized To the point of destruction And almost no promise For independent artists at all. So who is it with CUBE? Could be me. Could be you. Could be U— If it's not, It was all just a long lost passion project A collective God Complex. Give myself a hug Cause nobody else will God gave my case a Grace Cause somebody lost Will. Oh, Karen. Come, heart attack. Come karma, Come hot dogs Come Christmas time at the Plaza Come on, hard death. Come on. Hard Rock Hotel? Nah, Equinox. Alright. Hudson. Yards. Now you're in a tunnel Does your heart hurt? (You should clutch it.) Put your patchwork in a hard drive This is hard times, You can't come back. O! But they do take dear DRATCH and run with it! I go run along to Corrections, And ginger snaps for crosswords On hard workers So fax the whole document! Do you know what? Horcruxes! Hot lunches, yuck. Hockey! I want off this planet so bad I cross cross my fingers at crosswalks And oncoming trains but– Don't look either way before I walk. So pull a shotgun at all that I was one strong donkey before I got one address. Now I just redress the cause All I want is my bundle back. Yuck! Care for it at all? Yeah, yours, but she's a danger to humanity. Yeah, mine but I'm an honest hybrid horrid hunter. On time? I just got it at Sephora. On time, Like I never even got that. I want to be loved just to be looked at But since in this life I can't turn the clock back I've discovered it's hell that my body was born as. — I discovered it's hell that my body was born as. Such a problem when you know That even the great Rosie O'Donnell once wanted blue eyes. Now I forget where I trailed off… What a drawback. I'm all out of patience. Crypto, I tip toe now over eggshells No home for her Hard times And hard times. No code offered, No I don't fall for that'd But where's the snowfall over all the rot out back? Hard times. Hard times. Hard times. As the bell tolls And the well swells whole And the umpire does rack them Up; Nobody works harder than Hard times Hard times Hard times. Yeah, that's four Aces Up, Diamond. Run for your forks and your knives And your daughters and mothers and father And home family comfort And cufflinks and loafers, And sport coats and Your life. Your life. Your life. [The Festival Project ™] —-Chroma111. THE IMPENATRABLE TEN is INEVITABLY DISBANDED. Inevitably??? Inevitably! but not indefinitely. Oh, I guess. Alright. SILENCE. {Enter The Multiverse.} I don't want to be here. No one does. You are sending mixed messages. Imm not sending any messages… — with your brain. L E G E N D S Of course. Electromagnetic signaling Of course. I told you this had gone strange. Severely. Now how do I explain from this time how to get back to our time If there's no direct translation between our language and that one? Maybe you can't explain it. These are hard facts. So I suggest the use of highly trained telepaths. That far back? These things are possibly connected even in this time, theoretically using our past; I might suggest Telesynthesis— considering these planetary electromagnetics to which this entire planet is hardwired. …hardwired. That's right. Ascension. Hard times. Madame President? Get lost. [Secret President] I get it. You're a whistleblower. I'm not that. A shadow government official. Also wrong. Why else would you run for office? I'm trying to get shot at. They told me you were funny. But they didn't say anything about my gauntlet? Your—what? You know. My conquests—professional accomplishments? Your God complex? I know all about that. Perhaps it's not a complex. But a ‘gauntlet'? You're a journalist aren't you? I'm giving you some high art concepts. (Because for the sake of the rhyme, And please, for God's sakes, Gemini, In prose form Without the use of tables. ) I R O N I C —Deathwish. [The Festival Project ™] Season 12, Episode 01. REBEL1. Prod. By Blū Tha Gürū I would think it psychosomatic, but in less than 24 hours of restarting my vitamin regimen, my mood was so improved that I could not for a second overlook that without taking vitamins, I was missing something. Even if my newly concocted super-juice recipes were putting a curb in my abdominal muscles that even I was sure didn't entirely belong there, pairing this development with the Peloton, it was a long and diagonal, out-of-sorts thing that stuck out as if it was on somebody else's body and not mine. Still, I had to deal with the heavy weight of the drooping skin and belly that hung as if it very much did belong to me but wasn't budging, despite my attempts at a flat stomach and having been so well overstretched at one point by medical obesity and double occupancy that it was, at the very least to say, insurgically impossible. However, my brain went on having ways of wrapping my mind around this—that the rest of my body was quite slim, and even on some days seeming petite, were it not for my massive thighs, which also seemed to have sported a curve to them which was almost attractive, especially well-dressed. But the fun of it was, I wasn't exceptionally well-dressed, because I hadn't wanted to be. In fact, I was under obligation always to be about in the men's clothes I'd found because they were designer, and it was even something like a fashion statement that I dressed this grotesquely and in overlarge articles because of the astounding amount of weight I'd lost and the strange way my body seemed to be taking an athletic shape. Still, there was this factor that I was actually always somehow in an excruciating amount of pain, especially waking up, and though some of that I would have applied to being psychosomatic—in just that it was the pure stress of the disembodied torture I was undergoing in one way or another—whether anybody would have admitted it or not, or whether or not the unknown parties in question were going to be justified for it, I still hadn't an idea or thought as to what my unstructured purpose was. And though I sat beautifully controlled into doing music as a default, I was looking at the numbers, and the massive amount of people doing remarkably well because they could afford to do so, or were lucky, or were unbearably beautiful and so could do anything they wanted, and I too much so was not that. In fact, it was almost by design my failure and my constant struggle that even the universe seemed to look down upon me in such a way that it pitied me in a harrowing attempt at karmic justice done for the seeming evil and harsh things being done. It was true that someone had set out to torture me, and this might have once been the way of the illuminated artist and tortured soul; however, having taken so metaphorically into my own boat such heavy water of grief and loss, and drowning, I was sinking into the natural ocean of monstrous storms my body was saying in so many ways it could do no more. My mind was strong—and I could take the torture for innumerable amounts of time without becoming so much more frustrated than to just stop, or start heavy breathing, or even compulsively masturbate until one world faded deeply into another and I just didn't care. But realistically, the things that were being done pointed at a strategic and tactical, military-trained psychological governing of my own autonomy. And because I knew this, I also knew whoever was responsible was more than capable of covering their tracks to the point of disappearance—an inescapable hell of unseen trauma. The basis of it was that if I raised my concerns with any law enforcement or police, I was just as often ignored, ridiculed, or worse—thought of as symptomatic of some psychological condition I well knew and understood I did not have, all because what I did seem to possess—this undying force of color and creative ingenuity that could not quite be captured or marketed to improve the bankbook of others with a sudden onset—was unacceptable in such a way that I could become some sort of object that was in no way useful besides to experiment and then observe what I might become next, all the while knowing I would not and could not stay in one form or another too long without becoming such an obvious target. —Death of a Superstar DJ. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW

Top 3 Stories of the Day: Kalani Sitake is not going to Beg for BYU to make the CFP, Utah Jazz at LA Lakers tonight, What's going on with the Utah Mammoth?

Kulttuurihistorioitsija Jukka Sarjala kaipaa yhteiskunnalliseen keskusteluun rakentavaa erimielisyyttä vastakkainasettelun sijaan Kulttuurihistorioitsija, Turun yliopiston dosentti Jukka Sarjala sanoo, että yhteiskunnallisen keskustelun kahtiajakautumista pitäisi purkaa. Hän korostaa, että erimielisyys on välttämätöntä poliittiselle keskustelulle, sillä yhteiskuntaa kehitetään eri näkökulmien kautta. Ongelmana on se, että nyt vuoropuhelun sijaan keskustelu on juuttunut halvaustilaan. Filosofian tohtori Jukka Sarjala on tutkinut erityisesti 1800-luvun ja varhaisen uuden ajan kulttuurihistoriaa, romantiikan aatehistoriaa, mediahistoriaa ja poliittista ilmapiiriä. Hän tarkastelee romantiikkaa verkostonäkökulmasta, kollektiivisena ilmiönä, vaikka stereotypioissa usein on vallalla individualismi ja vaeltavat romanttiset runoilijahahmot. Monografiassaan Turun romantiikka. Aatteita, lukuvimmaa ja yhteistoimintaa 1810-luvun Suomessa hän muistuttaa, että aikaa leimasi seurallisuus, yhdistystoiminta, opiskelija- ja lukupiirit sekä yhteen hiileen puhaltaminen. Turun romantiikkaan kuului myös sivistyseetos. Oli itseisarvo, että ihminen luottaa kykyihinsä ja pyrkii jäsentämään monipuolisesti ympärillä olevaa todellisuutta ja muuttamaan sitä. Itsensä kehittäminen ei koskenut vain sivistyneistöä vaan kaikkia, kuten 1800-luvun kuluessa painotettiin yhä voimakkaammin. Turun romantiikka -teos on juuri julkaistu ruotsiksi. Sarjala toivoo teoksen tavoittavan uutta lukijakuntaa Ruotsista, sillä Åboromantiken voi tuoda suomalaisen näkökulman pohjoismaiseen keskusteluun. Podcastin pikaosiossa Sarjala vastaa kysymykseen, olisiko kulttuurihistoria tunteena ylevä vai arkinen. Kirjavinkkinä hän suosittelee ruotsalaisen Kristina Fjelkestamin teosta Begäret efter det förflutna. Humanisti vastaa -podcastin toimittaa humanistisen tiedekunnan työelämäprofessori Riitta Monto. Podcastin tuottaa Turun yliopisto. Tekstivastine: https://www.utu.fi/fi/ajankohtaista/podcast/humanisti-vastaa

We snuck on down the the coolest little abandoned classroom, deep below the First Churches in Northampton, Massachusetts to bring you interviews from some of the HOTTEST gamers around. We've got it 50/50 for you today - in the first half we are joined by two beautiful human beings, David Hoskins (@davidhoskins) and Hothead CJ (@hothead_collective). We talk about the broad variety in the gaming/nerd world and how CJ presents in in Glaive Magazine (Issue 2 here!), and Dave talks about the new hex and chit dogfighting game that he's been playtesting. In the second half we've got the dynamic force of Arcane Bryan (@arcaneswordpress) and Joey Royale (WHPA-13). Joey gets us STOKED on building a community and expanding your hobby outside the bounds of the minis you paint and the games you play. Arcane Bryan fills us in on a little ancient DnD lore, how ArcaneCon is structured and running this year, and talks a bit about planning your own thing!LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLE!Big shout out to all those Scumbags that decided to join our Patreon, you are the reason we can keep on keeping on - thank you!Beg for your Robux, and Bash the Planet!We have sick merch! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Hive Scum Big Cartel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Check out Knucklebones Miniatures' (@knucklebones_miniatures) New Hive Scum Flagellants! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Knucklebones Patreon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Join the In Rust We Trust discord here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠IRWT Discord⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠If you'd like to support us further, take a look at our Patreon! We'd love to have you: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Hive Scum Patreon⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Buy all of the Under the Dice Merch here: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Under the Dice⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠We are on IG/Blogger:Hive Scum: @hivescumpodcastSteve: ⁠⁠⁠Under the Dice⁠⁠⁠Gage: @noclearcoatTerry: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠w0rmh0l3 Blog⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

30. Yıl Dinleyici Destek haftasında, Sinefil ve Apaçık Radyo destekçisi Begüm Baysan'ı konuk ediyoruz. Richard Linklater'ın Blue Moon, Guillermo del Toro'nun Frankenstein ve yeni gösterim programlarını konuştuğumuz programda, 30. yaşımızı birlikte kutlamaya devam ediyoruz.  

Združene države Amerike so v bližnji prihodnosti totalitarna država, ki jo vodi sprega korporacij, medijev in vlade. Družba nadzora je ločena na večinoma obubožano prebivalstvo, ki se zabava ob nasilnih resničnostnih oddajah, in v idili živeč višji sloj. Ben Richards, ki zaradi uporniškega obnašanja ne dobi službe in se poskuša z ženo in hčerko izvleči iz revščine, privoli v nastop v resničnostni oddaji Tekač, ki ponuja visoke nagrade, če tekmovalec v igri lovcev in plena preživi mesec dni. Znanstvenofantastična akcijska srhljivka Tekač je posneta po distopičnem romanu Stephena Kinga, ki je bil dogajalno postavljen prav v leto 2025. Seveda film kar kliče po iskanju podobnosti z današnjim časom, še posebno s stališča družbe nadzora, razredne delitve, socialnih krivic in obsedenosti z medijskim oblikovanjem resničnosti oziroma z resničnostnimi šovi samimi. Kolikor je dandanes – v aktualnem in umišljenem letu 2025 – sploh še mogoče ločevati med analognim življenjem in njegovim digitalnim odsevom. Samoumevna je tudi primerjava s celovečerno priredbo iz leta 1987, v kateri je kot glavni lik nastopal Arnold Schwarzenegger. Film Beg je bil precej bolj televizijski v smislu enodimenzionalne satire – dejansko je že takrat napovedal avdiovizualno potvarjanje oziroma tehnologijo deepfake in obsedenost z resničnostnimi oddajami, ki je dobila zagon šele kakšno desetletje po premieri; aktualni Tekač upošteva tehnološki napredek in se dobro odziva na interaktivnost, ki jo pravzaprav vsi živimo. Film je vešče režiral britanski avtor Edgar Wright, ki ga poznamo po domiselno in dinamično preoblikovanih žanrskih mešanicah, in tudi Tekaču ne primanjkuje sape. Glavno vlogo ima Glen Powell, ki se zna bolj približati jezi ponižanih in razžaljenih kot Arnold Schwarzenegger, ki je pač superjunak ne glede na zgodbo. V tem smislu je tudi aktualna priredba bolj zemeljska in dobro izrazi preganjavico današnjosti – Tekač je tako med dvema filmoma s Harrisonom Fordom, Iztrebljevalcem (Blade Runner, 1982) in Beguncem (The Fugitive iz l. 1993). Zagata z avtorstvom Celovečerec Beg (1987) je bil posnet po romanu Stephena Kinga, ki ga je leta 1982, tako kot še štiri druge, s psevdonimom izdal Richard Bachman. Toda filmska različica, ki je bila v marsičem prilagojena podobi in statusu Arnolda Schwarzeneggerja v osemdesetih letih, ima več skupnega kot z romaneskno predlogo pravzaprav s francosko-jugoslovansko koprodukcijo z naslovom Nagrada za tveganje (Le prix du danger, 1983), ki jo je režiral Yves Boisset. Francozi so zaradi očitnega kopiranja tudi uspešno tožili ameriške producente. Ampak zapletov tu še ni konec – francoski film je temeljil na kratki zgodbi Roberta Sheckleyja iz leta 1958, ki je verjetno prva napovedala vzpon in vpliv resničnostnih oddaj. Njegova kratka zgodba The Prize of Peril je doživela prvo priredbo že leta 1970 v zahodnonemškem televizijskem filmu Igra za milijon (Das Millionenspiel), ki je bil tako prepričljiv, da so ga jezni gledalci ob prvem predvajanju dojeli kot resnično sodobno gladiatorsko igro. A ker so nemški producenti odkupili avtorske pravice le za zgodbo, ne pa tudi za njeno filmsko priredbo, je moral film skoraj za tri desetletja v »bunker« in je bil znova prikazan šele leta 2002. Ker je bil Stephen King še pred plodovitim pisanjem tudi obseden bralec in je spremljal popularno kulturo, se lahko vprašamo o resničnem avtorstvu … Zagata z rasno politiko V romanu Stephena Kinga je Dan Kilian, producent razvpitega televizijskega programa, skratka, glavni negativec, temnopolt, etnični izvor Richardsove žene pa ni opredeljen. Filmska partnerica Arnolda Schwarzeneggerja je bila Maria Conchita Alonso, ki je po izvoru sicer Kubanka, vendar to ni imelo pomembne vloge. V najnovejši priredbi igra zlobnega televizijskega producenta še kako beli Josh Brolin, Richardsova žena in njegova glavna motivacija za preživetje pa je temnopolta Jayme Lawson. Prvemu Predatorju, ki je, tako kot Beg, doživel premiero leta 1987, so očitali rasistične podtone zaradi nekaterih telesnih posebnosti pošasti in snemalne lokacije. Letošnja enačica je že obrnila to perspektivo in podobno »prebujenske« podtone politične korektnosti lahko opazimo tudi pri Tekaču s spremembo rasnih vlog oziroma kar s popolnim preobratom v primerjavi z literarno predlogo – čisto v skladu z groteskno usmeritvijo Netflixovih adaptacij ... Zagata s sporočilom Film Tekač poskuša biti s svojo satirično jezo in srcem na strani gverilskega odpora ter razkrinkavanja zarot in središč moči nekakšen novi Klub golih pesti (Fight Club, 1999). Toda zanimivo je, kako poskuša film o razkrinkavanju vpliva televizijskih šovov na množice sam, pač z jezikom in dosego industrije zabave, prav tako vplivati na množice. Tu se celovečerni film ujame v podoben paradoks, kot ga je že davno definiral François Truffaut: da namreč ne more biti protivojnega filma, saj sama narava filmskega ustvarjanja s svojo vizualno-pripovedno uporabo konfliktov, napetosti, spektakla in vznemirjenja neizbežno povzdiguje samo vojno. Enako naivno je pričakovanje, da bi lahko imel znanstvenofantastični spektakel tipa Tekač v sebi kaj zares prevratnega – morda bi lahko šli še korak dlje in zapisali, da je po obdobju postmoderizma postalo morda najbolj uspavalno prav samo razkrinkavanje uspavalnih mehanizmov …

Bloomberg HT Editörü Begüm Nur Alkış'ın hazırlayıp sunduğu "Bu Fikir Tutar!"ın bu haftaki konuğu Virgosol Kurucu Ortağı Özgür Arzu Barbaros. Bu bölümde, hatalı yazılımın küresel ekonomiye etkisinden hız–kalite dengesinde şirketlerin yeni yol haritalarına, bulut altyapısında egemenlik arayışına ve yazılım güvenilirliğinin sürdürülebilirlik boyutuna kadar uzanan kapsamlı bir sohbet sizleri bekliyor.

Dienstwagen sind beliebt – aber steuerlich komplex. Wann wird die private Nutzung eines Firmenwagens zum geldwerten Vorteil? Und wie wirken sich CO₂-Ausstoß, Privatkilometer oder Leasingmodelle auf die Höhe des Sachbezugs aus? In unserer neuen Folge klären wir, wann der PKW-Sachbezug anzusetzen ist, was den halben vom Mini-Sachbezug unterscheidet und worauf Prüfer bei Fahrtenbüchern besonders achten. Was du in dieser Folge zu hören bekommst … … ist ein kompakter Überblick über die steuerliche Behandlung von Dienstfahrzeugen, inklusive Berechnungsmethoden, Nachweispflichten und typischer Fahrtenbuchfehler. Außerdem erfährst du, welche Begünstigungen für Elektrofahrzeuge gelten und wie Arbeitgeber und Arbeitnehmer steuerlich auf der sicheren Seite bleiben. Silvia Welle, Arbeitsrechtsspezialistin bei der Hofer Leitinger Steuerberatung GmbH (www.hoferleitinger.at), gibt praxisnahe Einblicke und erklärt, worauf Unternehmen bei der Bewertung und Dokumentation von PKW-Sachbezügen achten sollten. STEUERAFFE - gut gebrüllt im Steuerdschungel. Euer Podcast für steuerliche und arbeitsrechtliche Fragen. Mehr dazu findet ihr unter www.steueraffe.at.

In dieser Episode widmen wir uns in gewohnter Runde wieder der aus unserer Sicht relevanten BFH-Rechtsprechung. Dieses Mal aus dem Monat Oktober, in dem es wieder einige sehr interessante Entscheidungen gegeben hat. Insbesondere im Zusammenhang mit der Behandlung des Nießbrauchers an Personengesellschaften sowie in Bezug auf die erbschaftsteuerliche Behandlung ausländischer Stiftungen. Wir starten mit II R 30/22 und der Frage, ob eine Schweizer Stiftung mit klarem Verwaltungssitz und Ort der Geschäftsleitung in Deutschland der deutschen Erbersatzsteuer gem. § 1 Abs. 1 Nr. 4 ErbStG unterliegt. Mit II R 31/22 und II R 56/22 führt der BFH seine Linie im Bereich von § 6a GrEStG konsequent fort und entscheidet en passant darüber, ob Gebietskörperschaften herrschendes Unternehmen sein können. Das Urteil II R 12/21 klärt, ob eine Erbauseinandersetzung auch mehr als sechs Monate nach dem Erbfall zum sog. Begünstigtentransfer berechtigen kann, wenn ein innerer Zusammenhang zum Erbfall fortbesteht. In II R 22/21 entscheidet der BFH, wie die Bereicherung bei disquotalen Einlagen in eine Körperschaft bemessen wird. In II R 18/23 beschäftigt sich der BFH damit, ob das Halten eines Familienheims über eine GbR der Steuerbefreiung nach § 13 Abs. 1 Nr. 4a EStG unterliegen kann. IV R 36/22 konturiert die Fragestellung, inwieweit ein Nießbraucher Mitunternehmer sein kann – eine zentrale Frage insbesondere für die Anwendung des § 6 Abs. 3 EStG. Das Urteil III R 45/22 konkretisiert die Voraussetzungen einer Gewinnerzielungsabsicht und inwieweit Veräußerungsgewinne auch bei Vermietungs-Cases in die Prognosegrundlage aufgenommen werden. Zum Abschluss dann noch einmal Grunderwerbsteuer: In II B 23/25 (AdV) bestätigt der BFH erneut, dass die Festsetzung von Signing & Closing GrESt nicht zutreffend ist. Allerdings ist die Grunderwerbsteuer des § 1 Abs. 2b GrEStG im Ergebnis „von Dauer“. Die Entscheidungsvorschau zu den mündlichen Verhandlungen am BFH aus dem vergangenen Monat ist dagegen ausnahmsweise eher überschaubar. Viel Spaß beim Hören! Folge direkt herunterladen

Das Eis ist gebrochen, und die Wall Street feiert das nahende Ende der seit 41 Tagen laufenden Haushaltssperre. Letztendlich sind die Demokraten im Senat eingeknickt, und konnten sich nicht durchsetzen. Man hatte am Freitag gefordert, dass die bis Jahresende gültigen Steuervergünstigungen aus dem „Affordable Care Act“, also Zuschüsse, die vielen Amerikanern helfen, ihre Krankenversicherungsbeiträge zu bezahlen, um ein Jahr verlängert werden. Nun heißt es lediglich, dass die Republikaner über den Verbleib dieser Begünstigungen gegen Jahresende abstimmen werden. Wir sehen dennoch auf Aufatmen an der Wall Street, zumal es vermehrt die Verspätungen und Stornierungen von Flügen kommt, und der Schaden für die Wirtschaft wächst. Die vor Handelsstart gemeldeten Ergebnisse lagen überwiegend über den Zielen, mit den Aktien von Instacart im Plus. Außerdem hebt die Citi das Ziel für NVIDIA an, und am Dienstag meldet CoreWeave Ergebnisse. Abonniere den Podcast, um keine Folge zu verpassen! ____ Folge uns, um auf dem Laufenden zu bleiben: • X: http://fal.cn/SQtwitter • LinkedIn: http://fal.cn/SQlinkedin • Instagram: http://fal.cn/SQInstagram

Das Eis ist gebrochen, und die Wall Street feiert das nahende Ende der seit 41 Tagen laufenden Haushaltssperre. Letztendlich sind die Demokraten im Senat eingeknickt, und konnten sich nicht durchsetzen. Man hatte am Freitag gefordert, dass die bis Jahresende gültigen Steuervergünstigungen aus dem „Affordable Care Act“, also Zuschüsse, die vielen Amerikanern helfen, ihre Krankenversicherungsbeiträge zu bezahlen, um ein Jahr verlängert werden. Nun heißt es lediglich, dass die Republikaner über den Verbleib dieser Begünstigungen gegen Jahresende abstimmen werden. Wir sehen dennoch auf Aufatmen an der Wall Street, zumal es vermehrt die Verspätungen und Stornierungen von Flügen kommt, und der Schaden für die Wirtschaft wächst. Die vor Handelsstart gemeldeten Ergebnisse lagen überwiegend über den Zielen, mit den Aktien von Instacart im Plus. Außerdem hebt die Citi das Ziel für NVIDIA an, und am Dienstag meldet CoreWeave Ergebnisse. Ein Podcast - featured by Handelsblatt. +++ Alle Rabattcodes und Infos zu unseren Werbepartnern findet ihr hier: https://linktr.ee/wallstreet_podcast +++ +++ Hinweis zur Werbeplatzierung von Meta: https://backend.ad-alliance.de/fileadmin/Transparency_Notice/Meta_DMAJ_TTPA_Transparency_Notice_-_Ad_Alliance_approved.pdf +++ Der Podcast wird vermarktet durch die Ad Alliance. Die allgemeinen Datenschutzrichtlinien der Ad Alliance finden Sie unter https://datenschutz.ad-alliance.de/podcast.html Die Ad Alliance verarbeitet im Zusammenhang mit dem Angebot die Podcasts-Daten. Wenn Sie der automatischen Übermittlung der Daten widersprechen wollen, klicken Sie hier: https://datenschutz.ad-alliance.de/podcast.html Impressum: https://www.360wallstreet.de/impressum

Episode Notes S6E38--Join us as we chat with the unmasked OG himself Mr. Tony Moran. He'll be in the house telling tales from struggling actor to Halloween and beyond. Anthony Moran (born August 14, 1957) is an American actor and producer. He is known for briefly playing the unmasked Michael Myers in the 1978 horror classic Halloween. Since then, he has gone on to make guest appearances in television series The Waltons and CHiPs. He is the elder brother of fellow actors Erin Moran (of Happy Days fame) and John Moran. HELPFUL LINKS: VETERANS: https://www.va.gov/.../mental-health/suicide-prevention/ ADDICTION: https://lp.recoverycentersofamerica.com/.../continuum-of.../ Due you know someone that has lost their lives due to addiction? Or even someone that has made a full recovery? Reach out to Johnny Whitaker so they can help to celebrate the lives lost/ lives recovered at overdoseawareness0831@gmail.com Follow our guest https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Moran_(actor) https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0602985/ https://www.instagram.com/therealtonymoran/?hl=en Toking with the Dead: https://www.stilltoking.com/ ————————————— Follow Still Toking With and their friends! https://smartpa.ge/5zv1 ————————————— Produced by Leo Pond and The Dorkening Podcast Network MORE ABOUT THE GUEST: Tony Moran was a struggling actor before he got the role of the unmasked Michael Myers in Halloween. At the time he had a job on Hollywood and Vine dressed up as Frankenstein. Moran had the same agent as his sister, Erin, who played Joanie Cunningham on Happy Days. When Moran went to audition for the role of Michael Myers in 1978, he met for an interview with director John Carpenter and producer Irwin Yablans. He has since stated that he originally did not want to do the movie, only changing his mind when he got confirmation that Donald Pleasence would be in it. He later got a call back and was told he had got the part. Moran was paid $250 for his appearance in Halloween and did not return for any of the sequels, although he was paid for his appearance at the beginning of Halloween II, which was a recap of the first film. Halloween was Moran's only film for 30 years. Through the late seventies and early eighties, he has made guest appearances in several television series including CHiPs, The Waltons, James at 15, and California Fever. In 2008, Moran returned to acting with the short film The Lucky Break. In 2010, he produced and starred in the horror film Beg, which also stars his Halloween co-star P.J. Soles. In 2014 he starred in Dead Bounty. In 2014 he appeared in the documentary film Horror Icon: Inside Michael's Mask with Tony Moran, which premiered in October 2015. Find out more at https://still-toking-with.pinecast.co Send us your feedback online: https://pinecast.com/feedback/still-toking-with/d1cd0b64-9b26-4f1d-8cd0-3f9594ec50e3

Begår transpersoner fler masskjutningar än andra? Det talas om en epidemi av transterror i USA. Läkaren och USA-kännaren Erik W. Larsson går till botten med denna fråga. Inläsare: Staffan Dopping

Read OnlineJesus told his disciples a parable about the necessity for them to pray always without becoming weary. Luke 18:1In our parable for today, we have the witness of a widow who came to a dishonest judge and continuously begged him for a just judgment. Though the judge did not care about the woman, he eventually rendered a just decision for her because she was so persistent. It's interesting that Jesus used the image of a “dishonest judge” to teach us about persistent prayers being answered. He does so because He wants us to understand that if even those who are dishonest respond to persistence, then so much more will the Just Judge of Heaven respond to persistence.Will God answer any prayer you pray if you offer that prayer day and night, day after day without fail? Does God eventually give into our requests as a parent might give into a child who keeps begging for something? Not exactly. One of the most important qualifiers mentioned in this parable is the word “just.” We read that the woman's plea before the judge was, “render a just decision for me…” At the conclusion of the parable, Jesus gives this interpretation: “Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night?” When we pray, we ought not pray for whatever we want. We ought not pray for our preference, selfish desires, or our own ideas. We must pray only for the justice of God. When we do so with unwavering perseverance, God will secure our rights and bring forth His justice.Justice, in the mind of God, is not only about righting certain wrongs. The prime example of this is the death of our Lord Himself. Clearly, Jesus was purely innocent and yet He suffered greatly. For that reason, would we conclude that the suffering and death of the Son of God was an injustice? Not really. The reason for this is that justice can be achieved best by mercy. Because Jesus embraced the injustice of His suffering and death and turned it into a free embrace out of love, this “injustice” became a sacrifice of love by which an abundance of mercy was bestowed. Jesus had every right to call down fire from Heaven and to destroy those who sinned against Him. But He had a far better plan. Instead, by choosing to accept the injustice of the Cross, and by freely embracing it with His own will, the injustice was transformed and a far greater good came forth.In our own lives, whenever we are wronged by another, we are often tempted to anger and to desire revenge in the name of justice. We want them to pay for what they did. If you ever feel that way, know that the greatest form of justice is mercy. Know that your free embrace of injustice brings forth the transforming power of God in a way that punishment or retribution could never accomplish. This is the form of justice we must pray for night and day. We must beg God for the ability to accept all sufferings with love, to offer those sufferings as a sacrifice, and to allow them to be transformed into mercy. If this is our persistent prayer, we can be certain that our prayer will be answered. Reflect, today, upon anything for which you desire justice. Is there anything that has been unfair in your life? Do you dwell upon any hurt inflicted upon you by another? As you call those things to mind, know that the power of your persistent prayer has the potential to transform those sufferings into God's mercy. Beg for this gift and know that God will always answer those prayers. Most just Judge, You desire to transform every injustice into mercy by calling us to freely embrace those injustices out of love. This is a high calling, dear Lord, but it is also a glorious one. Please give me the grace I need to follow Your example and to persevere in this form of prayer always. Jesus, I trust in You.  Image: various, Public domain, via Wikimedia CommonsSource of content: catholic-daily-reflections.comCopyright © 2025 My Catholic Life! Inc. All rights reserved. Used with permission via RSS feed.

On this Student Spotlight during University of Southern California Dornsife Week: What does your brain learn from rejection? Begüm G Babür, Ph. D student in social psychology, analyzes the results. Begüm is a Ph.D. student in the Social Connection Lab at USC Dornsife College of Letters, Arts and Sciences. She received her B.A. in Psychology […]

La Turquie serait-elle en train de connaître un épisode tardif de la vague #MeToo, ce vaste mouvement de libération de la parole des femmes démarré dans le milieu du cinéma aux États-Unis en 2017 ? Le mouvement féministe turc est puissant et a gagné en popularité avec les réseaux sociaux. Les nouvelles générations, très connectées, s'inspirent de ce qui se passe à l'étranger. Depuis un mois, une vague de milliers de dénonciations sur les réseaux sociaux révèle plusieurs dizaines de noms de personnalités connues et d'anonymes dans les milieux artistiques et académiques. Le phénomène relance la réflexion sur la gestion des violences sexistes et sexuelles au sein des organisations de défense des droits des femmes. Reportage à Ankara de notre correspondante, Messages graveleux, gestes déplacés répétés jusqu'à des cas de viols par soumission chimique... Chaque jour charrie son lot de témoignages et vient ajouter de nouveaux noms à la liste des hommes accusés de violences sexistes et sexuelles. Ce sont plus de 5 000 posts qui ont été partagés sur les réseaux sociaux en une dizaine de jours, d'après les statistiques du réseau X. Des personnalités du monde de l'art, des milieux universitaires et de la société civile sont au cœur du scandale. Alors, plusieurs institutions culturelles, chaînes de télévision et plateformes de diffusion ont annoncé rompre leurs contrats avec les hommes accusés. Medine Aybar, 29 ans, travaille dans le secteur du cinéma et de la publicité. Elle a choisi de partager sur les réseaux sociaux le harcèlement d'un de ses anciens patrons. Militante féministe, elle décrypte les mécanismes d'impunité qui règne dans son secteur professionnel : « J'ai commencé par lire les posts de dénonciations sur les photographes de mode, en lisant, j'ai tout de suite fait le parallèle avec mes propres expériences, alors je me suis mise à écrire et à partager aussi ce que j'avais vécu. » À écouter aussiMeToo: des affaires emblématiques en Suède, Espagne, Afrique du Sud et Japon Les dynamiques propres à l'industrie du cinéma rendent les dénonciations extrêmement risquées pour les carrières, mais elle a reçu de nombreux messages de soutien de la part de collègues : « J'ai eu des coups de fil de la part de personnes du secteur que j'aime beaucoup, qui m'ont dit "on te suit et on voit ce que tu publies" et s'ils m'appellent, c'est parce qu'ils savent que plein de gens du secteur pourraient me menacer de perdre du travail, ou faire pression sur moi de plein de manières différentes. » Témoigner en ligne : une option pour de nombreuses victimes Forte de cette première initiative, elle a décidé de se mobiliser pour recueillir le plus de témoignages possible et les diffuser de manière anonyme. Car nombre de victimes d'agressions préfèrent partager leurs témoignages sur les réseaux sociaux plutôt que dans les salles d'audience des palais de justice. Begüm Baki est membre de l'Association de lutte contre les violences sexuelles : « Il existe de nombreux obstacles à la dénonciation des violences sexuelles. C'est d'ailleurs pour cela que dans tous les pays, les violences sexuelles sont les crimes les moins rapportés, et en Turquie, malheureusement, c'est très rare. L'absence de mécanismes de soutien, la méconnaissance des droits, le manque d'institutions et l'approche culpabilisante à l'égard des victimes – manifestations du patriarcat et des inégalités de genre – sont particulièrement visibles là où ces inégalités sont les plus profondes. Face à cette réalité, certaines personnes finissent par ressentir le besoin de dire "stop". » Les dénonciations publiées sur les réseaux sociaux feront-elles l'objet d'enquêtes de la part de la justice ? Les avocates des droits des femmes en doutent, mais elles rappellent que les victimes ne sont pas totalement dépourvues. Le principe de « primauté de la parole de la victime » a été maintes fois validé par les différentes instances de justice et donne espoir de voir punir les auteurs de violences dont les noms sont désormais connus de tous.

Bizden Biri serimizde her hafta Almanya'da yaşayan, yaptığı işte, sanat dalında, sosyal ya da toplumsal faaliyetlerinde öne çıkan, başarılı insanları daha yakından tanıyoruz. Bu haftaki konuğumuz 7 yıl önce Almanya'ya gelen ve yaptığı Almanca eğitim videoları ile özellikle Almanca öğrenmek isteyenlerin yakından tanıdığı bir isim; Begüm Gürlek. Sosyal medyada Begi Begi adıyla bilinen genç eğitimci, WDR stüdyolarında konuğumuz oldu. Sunucumuz Gökçe Göksu'nun Almanya'daki hayatına, Türkiye geçmişine ve yaptığı çalışmalara dair sorularını yanıtladı. Keyifli bir sohbet sizi bekliyor. Von Gökçe Göksu und Eren Mahir Gençer.

With tension ramping up on the Hellmouth, everything seems dire at chez Summers. Luckily for us, Andrew takes on the responsibility to tell the story of Buffy: the Slayer of vam-PYRES! What ensues is a whimsical break as well as a hilarious glimpse into the psyche of Andrew!Rewatch, Listen & Laugh as we delight in the fantastical mind of our favorite childlike accomplice to murder, we ship a new COUPLE on the show, and we continue to BEG @tommylenk to join us on the show.. in the pod lab.. meet us for coffee... LITERALLY ANYTHING! (WE LOVE YOU MAN!)And don't forget to follow us at the_rewatcher on Instagram for special bonus content!!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

AUG. 22, 2025Advice for in-laws."That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh." Ge 2:24 NIVIn Eight Ways In-laws Can Break Up a Marriage it offers examples that should make every in-law stop and think. "(1) When your child decides to marry, show hostility toward the person they chose. After all, it means less love for you, so you have a right to resent them. (2) Expect them to spend weekends and holidays with you, and act hurt if they don't. (3) If they have problems with their mate, encourage them to come home. And when they do, listen to their complaints, and point out other shortcomings they may have missed. Remember, one drop of water after another can wear away a rock. (4) If they're having financial problems, rescue them. Beg, borrow, or steal, but let them know that as long as you're around, they'll never go without. (5) If they have a drinking or drug problem, tell them their mate drove them to it.After all, everybody needs someone to blame.(6) If they have an opportunity for career advancement that takes them to another city, tell them 'family' is more important than money and God will punish them for not honoring the commandment 'honor thy father and thy mother! (7) If there are grandchildren involved, spoil them. And if the parents object, tell them to stay out of it; after all, what are grandkids for? (8) If your child has an argument with their mate, fan the flames.Family loyalty is a beautiful thing; with a little work, you can turn a minor argument into a major hassle and break up a marriage."Advice for in-laws In-laws—stop and think!Share This DevotionalSend us a textSupport the showChanging Lives | Building Strong Family | Impacting Our Community For Jesus Christ!

Zelensky To Beg Trump To Continue War! Plus, New York Governor Sparks Outrage After Secretly Pardoning Murderer To Spare Him Deportation

Gost epizode 191 je bil Mohammed Waleed Alaswad, mladi fant, ki je kot migrant prišel iz Sirije v Slovenijo. Danes dela kot uspešen frizer v eni izmed Ljubljanskih brivnic. =================== Pridite se strižt k Mohammedu ❤️ https://form.lime-booking.com/sl/UnseenBarbershop/service?u=7228  =================== V epizodi se dotakneva naslednjih tematik: Spoznanje s Klemnom in otroštvo v Siriji Življenje pred vojno in izkušnje v šoli Začetek vojne in posledice Beg iz Sirije in potovanje v Turčijo Življenje v Turčiji in iskanje dela Migracija v Evropo in izkušnje v Sloveniji Prilagajanje na novo življenje in izobraževanje Uspeh in prihodnost =================== Prijavi se na AIDEA newsletter (obvestilo glede LIVE AIDEA dogodka): https://aidea.si/aidea-mailing-lista 

Lawn to be mowed in the morning tomorrow, Friday. Also, we wrap the week with our spotlight artists @Eytan Mirsky, @Dave Cope And The Sass, and @Vanilla. As the show draws to an end on Friday, A quick introduction to NEXT weeks featured artists @Jesse Norell for the album “Aorta Borealis”, @Deadlightd “Eleven Step Intervention”, and @Emperor Penguin from the CD “Sunday Carvery”! BUSY FRIDAY! The Music Authority Podcast... download, listen, share, repeat…heard daily on Belter Radio, Podchaser, Deezer, Amazon Music, Audible, Listen Notes, Mixcloud, Player FM, Tune In, Podcast Addict, Cast Box, Radio Public, Pocket Cast, APPLE iTunes, and direct for the source distribution site: *Podcast - https://themusicauthority.transistor.fm/  AND NOW there is a website! TheMusicAuthority.comThe Music Authority Podcast! Special Recorded Network Shows, too! Different than my daily show! Seeing that I'm gone from FB now…Follow me on “X” Jim Prell@TMusicAuthority*The Music Authority on @BelterRadio Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday 7 pm ET & Wednesday 9 pm ET*Radio Candy Radio Monday Wednesday, & Friday 7PM ET, 4PM PT*Rockin' The KOR Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday at 7PM UK time, 2PM ET, 11AM PT  www.koradio.rocks*Pop Radio UK Friday, Saturday, & Sunday 6PM UK, 1PM ET, 10AM PT! *The Sole Of Indie https://soleofindie.rocks/ Monday Through Friday 6-7PM EST!*AltPhillie.Rocks Sunday, Thursday, & Saturday At 11:00AM ET!August 14, 2025, Thursday, verse two…@Greek Theatre - Alpha [A Deeper Scar] (koolkatmusik.com)@Bob Lind - You Look Just Like A Girl Again [Something Worse Than Loneliness] (@Ace)@Kevin Robertson - Custom Made (Stripped) [Sundown Stripped]@Hoodoo Gurus - On My Street [Blow Your Cool]@Eytan Mirsky - It's All Right To Be Alone [Lord, Have Mirsky]@The Tearaways - Broken Down [Anthems And Lullabies]@Duncan Reid And The Big Heads - C'mon Josephine [Bombs Away]@The Red Plastic Buddha - Clouds [Sunflower Sessions]@Dave Cope & The Sass - Topsy Turvy [Julee] (koolkatmusik.com)@John Howard - Life Is Never The Way We Want It To Be [As I Was Saying]@The Nearlies - Oh Aurora [Fresh Memories]@The Dirty Truckers - All She Ever Wanted [Best Of The Dirty Truckers] (@Rum Bar Records)@The Plimsouls - Lie, Beg, Borrow And Steal@Vanilla - The Truth Is Never True [Sideshow]@65 MPH - Past Glories@Idle Jets - Genius Of The Obvious [Atomic Fireball]@Gail George – More Than Me [IPO Vol 18]

Li Almanya xurtekî êrişe Mîr Hazim Tehsîn Beg mîrê Êzidiyan kiriye ku vê yekê gelek diltengî ji bo civaka Êzîdî çêkir. Herweha di naveroka raportê de behsa rêjeya xenqandina xelkê bi melevanîyan dibe ku ev bûyerana gelekî zêdebûne. Em derbarê van herdu mijarên li jor bi nûçegîhan Ehmed Xefûr ji Hewlêrê diaxafin.

Episode 332 features New Junk City, an indie rock band from Atlanta. I've become a big fan of theirs was happy to get them on the show. Their sound could be described as a mix of Gin Blossoms and Menzingers-style punk. In the interview, I spoke with John and Dakota, where we discussed their new album Beg a Promise and my favorite track from it, Rosey. We also talked about their tours in Europe, their recording process, and their day jobs. They will have some shows coming up so definitely keep tabs on their instagram if you interested. Thanks for listening and for supporting local music!   Please follow, rate, or review the podcast wherever you are streaming if you'd like to help us out.  -- Part-Time Rockstar Productions is available in the DMV for music videos and live filming.    Part-Time Rockstar Spotify Playlist

Send me a message!Perhaps the most important podcast I've recorded to date, listen into this conversation I had with Profe Morgan Bennett, about the importance of ending Beg, Borrow, Steal culture, and instead shift to one of "Ask, Acknowledge, Appreciate". To connect with Morgan, follow her on Instagram at: @Profe_BennettLet's Connect! My BlogMy YouTubeMy InstagramMy WebsiteMy TPT storeJoin La Familia Loca PLC

Jason Fraley interviews Otis Williams, last surviving original member of The Temptations, which performs live at “A Capitol Fourth” in Washington D.C. tomorrow at 8 p.m. on PBS. They discuss classic Motown hits like “My Girl,” “The Way You Do the Things You Do,” “Get Ready” and “Ain't Too Proud to Beg,” as well as evolving into a new era with “Cloud Nine,” “Ball of Confusion,” “Just My Imagination” and “Papa Was a Rolling Stone.”  (Theme Music: Scott Buckley's "Clarion")

  BOSSes Anne Ganguzza and Lau Lapides share an inspiring and candid conversation about the challenges and triumphs of leveling up your business. Anne opens up about her personal journey of growth, from small changes in her Pilates class to taking a significant leap in her company, battling the fear and discomfort that often accompany evolution. This episode offers profound insights into navigating change, the vital role of a supportive team, and the power of embracing risk for long-term success. Listeners will gain actionable wisdom on recognizing their own self-imposed limitations, the importance of strategic planning, and understanding that growth, while sometimes terrifying, is essential for avoiding stagnancy.   00:24 - Announcer: It's time to take your business to the next level—the boss level. These are the premier business owner strategies and successes being utilized by the industry's top talent today. Rock your business like a boss, a VO Boss. Now, let's welcome your host, Anne Ganguzza. 00:44 - Anne (Host): Hey everyone, welcome to the VO Boss Podcast. I'm your host, Anne Ganguzza, and I am here with Lau Lapides in our Boss Superpower Series. Hey Lau, hey Anne. 00:54 - Lau (Guest): I'm so excited to be back. It's been a while, you know. It seems like it's been forever years. It hasn't been, it's been years, but it feels like that. 01:04 - Anne (Host): I'm going to say a lot has happened, and so I brought props to show you. So I have... actually, I love props. I care my props. I have actually leveled up, okay? So in many ways. So I have my three-pound weight and I have my five-pound weight. So in my Pilates class, I finally leveled up because when they say grab your light weights, I went from three pounds to five pounds. 01:26 - Lau (Guest): You're now a heavyweight. 01:28 - Anne (Host): Well... I don't know if it's heavyweight, but now, right, it's a change. I've leveled up, and while it may not seem like a lot over the long haul, guess what? It's going to mean a whole lot. And I thought it was such a great comparison for our businesses and how we can make simple little changes. And those simple little changes over time are going to make an amazing difference. And I even got like excited, and I wrote, "No sacrifice, no success." And then here's my little boot necklace to like kick myself in the butt to remind myself. 02:00 - Lau (Guest): We all need that, Annie, we all need that. 02:02 - Anne (Host): I love that, to do that, yeah. So I've taken some chances with my business, and I have done some things. I've made some changes, some not so small, but they've been coming for a while. In my head, they were small, and over time they evolved into a kind of, maybe, a bigger idea for a bigger vision for my company. And I thought it would be great to just talk about the process because it's not easy to level up. 02:27 - Lau (Guest): Oh, it's no, it's not the most challenging thing you can do. And it's funny how you have the thought, the imagination, the dream, which has nothing to do with the actual reality of doing it, right? So you're moving through that reality. 02:40 - Anne (Host): I consider the brain, right? My brain steps, my little steps over time, because I've been thinking about how am I evolving, how am I going to level up, how am I going to make these changes? And so in my head, I was making small changes, right? Until finally, I started implementing those small changes, and then kind of as a, I guess maybe a side effect or after effect of those small changes, then I needed to make bigger changes. And so now I have to say that through the process, it's been definitely a learning process, not only for... I like to say I have a clear direction of where I want to go, I know that, but also things have happened that have been, I guess, scary. They've been monumental, like growing challenges for me, but also moments where I've been... Oh, I get it now! 03:31 - Lau (Guest): Yes, let's hear, what are some of those aha discovery moments for you that caught you? 03:31 - Anne (Host): So the aha discovery, right? The aha discovery of evolving your business and always growing, and I'm always talking about that, right? I'm always talking about evolving, and I'm like, "Oh, I got an idea for this, I got an idea for that." I'm a little bit of a serial entrepreneur, but when it comes right down to it, I think that a big aha moment for me was in the process of doing this, is that I've learned a lot about myself, and I've learned where I myself get in my own way, right? I myself get in my own way, right? And I like to think that I don't, and that I'm all confident, and I'm... Yes, we can forge forward and be successful. But yet there's been some times where I'm like, "Well, am I doing the right thing?" And I second-guess myself, and then when I do that, I learn more about myself. Yes, and so it's really been a learning experience about myself and how there are ways in which I hold myself back, and how when it comes to growing your business, the team that you have in place can do a lot to support you. 04:33 - Lau (Guest): Now, before you go on, Annie, I want to know on a scale of one to 10, 10 being the most terrorizing, before you made the move, because a lot of our clients and talent ask us about this, like, "How do I make these really serious and scary moves?" How scared, terrorized, were you at the thought of that kind of change, which is semi-radical, especially when you're working with people for quite a while? How scared were you? 04:59 - Anne (Host): Terrified, terrified. I mean, terrified. It was a 10. It was a 10. Stress level eating, do you know what I mean? 05:05 - Lau (Guest): Well, thank you for being honest, I would agree. 05:07 - Anne (Host): I think it's true. Headache, neck ache. It never gets easier. No, it never gets easier. 05:12 - Lau (Guest): It's always a risk, a huge risk. 05:15 - Anne (Host): And we've talked about this. It's not like uncommon that we've talked about like taking risks and stuff like that. And even before, I was like, "Yeah, we take risks, we're bosses." And this time I took a big risk, and I think that I really challenged myself to take a big risk. And is it completely successful? I don't know yet, you know what I mean? It's evolving. 05:34 - Lau (Guest): And that's the nature of risk. If you knew, it wouldn't be a risk. 05:37 - Anne (Host): Exactly. I mean, I'm evolving with it, I'm growing with it, and I have faith that I'm determined that it will evolve into something successful for me, and so that I have. But the terror along the way has been surprising. 05:53 - Lau (Guest): Yes, yes, because it never gets easier. It never gets better. No, right? It just gets more, higher stakes, and it's funny. The stakes get higher. Yeah, and it's funny, what were the stakes for you this time around? Can you like break it down for the listeners? How did that work? 06:07 - Anne (Host): I'm going to keep going back to here, like right. So we all know my health journey, right? And my health journey took about a year and a half, right? To kind of come to fruition and get the news that, you know, I was not well, healthy, and I needed to do something about it. And then get to work, right? Focus, get to work. And so I was driven. I had a goal. I was driven. I didn't stop until I got to that goal. And then all of a sudden, I got to the goal and I'm like, "Wait, I have more goals." 06:34 - Anne (Host): And so my three-pound weight was always my weight that when the Pilates instructor said, "Go grab your light weights," I said, "Okay, three pounds," right? Three pounds is what? Before it was like one pound, I'm not quite sure if it might've been two pounds. Then I said, "All right, I'm going to graduate to three." But then just this past week I went to a five, and I said, for whatever it was, I had been thinking about it and thinking about it and thinking about it. Similar to my business. Right? I was thinking about the moves, I was stressing, I was nervous, I was like debating, I was researching, I did all the things in my head to evolve, and then finally, I took the leap. And so this past Wednesday, I took the leap, and I went to five pounds. Isn't that great? And it wasn't horrible, and it wasn't horrible. And now I know that there will be days when I'm not going to want to do the five pounds, but I'm going to push myself to do the five pounds. 07:24 - Lau (Guest): You're going to push, but there was something inside of you. 07:26 - Announcer: This is something I think the listeners have to know this. 07:29 - Lau (Guest): There was something inside of you, this little voice, that somehow knew that you could take it on. 07:34 - Anne (Host): And today was the day you could handle it, even though you felt nervous, scared, and with weights, you actually can get hurt, physically hurt, right? 07:44 - Lau (Guest): So of course you're not lifting 150 pounds, but you can still hurt yourself, right? Exactly. Well, let's transfer that now to your business. 07:52 - Anne (Host): Yeah, I mean, and it was funny because I thought about it, thought about it, thought about it, strategized, strategized, said, "Yes, I should. No, I shouldn't. Yes, I should." Today's the day. 08:00 - Lau (Guest): The back and forth, right, Annie? The back and forth. Yes, no. 08:02 - Anne (Host): And then I said, "Today's the day." Today is the day, right? And so literally, that's kind of what happened when I made the decision after I had been thinking about it, researching, going back and forth, "Okay, I'm going to do it," and then I started it, and it was like building a muscle, right? So I'm still in the process of building the muscle of my business and getting through the growth, right? So I'm going to grow my muscle with my five-pound weight. 08:29 - Anne (Host): I'm going to grow my business, right, with my growth strategy, and it's terrifying, it's uncomfortable, right? It's uncomfortable, but there are little successes that I'm seeing along the way, and that makes me happy, and that gives me the confidence to move on and to continue on my journey. And I know in my heart, right, I will make it work for me in the way that it's best. I think the one thing, Lau, which is interesting, is I always have to figure out what's the fallback, right? What's the worst-case scenario, and can I accept the worst-case scenario? 09:02 - Lau (Guest): What is the worst-case scenario? 09:02 - Anne (Host): The worst-case scenario was I'm committed to my growth strategy for a certain amount of time and a large amount of money, to be quite honest with you. 09:09 - Lau (Guest): Well, that's what I was going to say, that you lose a bunch of money that you don't feel you got any return on or any knowledge on. That would be the worst, wouldn't it? Honestly, I can't imagine that happening with you because you're going to squeeze the juice out of everything, but that would be the worst. 09:25 - Anne (Host): The confidence that I have, Lau, and I think that what we've spoken about as well in podcasts before, and I get excited about this, is that I said, "Okay, I have a certain amount of money, I can make a commitment, and I am okay if I lose this money." It's kind of like... it's like gambling. I was just going to say, I don't want to bring up gambling, but I will, because when I go to Vegas, I say, "Okay, I have a certain amount of money. If I decide that I want to gamble..." I don't really gamble a whole lot, like my gambling money is maybe 20 bucks, just to have fun. 09:51 - Lau (Guest): I don't either. 09:51 - Anne (Host): Because I'd rather spend my money on something that I know I'm getting. Like I'm getting a nice facial or a massage. 09:55 - Lau (Guest): I do too, I know. Or dinner. But doesn't that make it harder for you to make those moves because you're not a gambler? 10:05 - Anne (Host): Well, I'm not a gambler, let's say, in Vegas, but I am a gambler with my business in a lot of ways, because I know that if I don't, I will be worse off. If I do not grow, and I've said this before, stagnancy is the death of me. If I do not grow, that is the worst. And I think what was happening is I was at a place where I didn't feel like I was growing anymore, and I wanted to continue the growth. And I'm like, "How can I grow? How can I get more clients? How can I reach these clients?" And when I really researched the answers, it wasn't within my own industry, because I had my own circle already built, which was amazing, and I love my circle. I'm not giving up my circle, but I needed to get beyond the circle to bring in new people, to bring in, right, new clients, and that was, I mean, really, how was I going to reach those clients? 10:54 - Lau (Guest): So what does that translate to for you in terms of this last move that you just made? I know you can't get into too many details before your launch of it, but what did that translate to you in terms of the team you had and were working with, the new team you wanted to be working with, and the new concept that you had moving forward? What were the action steps that you really had to start taking on in order to realize that? 11:22 - Anne (Host): Well, action steps was, first of all, education and research, right, and understanding. And I was actually put in a situation where I needed to get a new team of professionals that could, first of all, handle my website, because the person that I had worked with for many, many years was not able to continue to do that. And so I was looking for more members of the team. And so in doing so, it's hard out there looking for people. I mean, we've discussed this before, like, do they know the industry? Do they not know the industry? What are their skill levels? And, to be honest with you, if people in the voiceover industry knew website development, there are a few people that do, but there's not a lot, right? 12:01 - Anne (Host): So I had to go outside of the industry to look for people that could handle the back end of my websites, because I got a lot going on. I mean, we know that the podcast here, there's a lot of products, there's lots of back-end workings in the website that set up appointments with me, that handle income and inflows and outflows and that sort of thing. So I needed to have someone that was capable in that to take over. And so in doing that was education, research, interviewing, and then also really having a hard look at the budget, because you know, I mean, I have a certain budget. And I think the one thing that sealed it for me—the go, right, the go, and go after thinking and strategizing and education—was having a certain amount of money set aside that I could risk, right, to move forward and know that if it didn't work out, I wasn't confined to a lifetime of it, right, financially or emotionally. I could get out of it if I needed to, right? And what would be the worst thing that could happen? 13:00 - Anne (Host): Well, I would lose that money. So I was just like, if I was going, I have this amount of money that I'm willing to lose, and now I'm ready to gamble. And that's really what it took. And that, just knowing that, having that security and knowing that I had a certain amount of money I was willing to invest and lose completely, completely, if things didn't go the way that I thought they were and I needed to get out, I was okay with that. And so I think that gave me the green light to go ahead and do it. And now, once I'm doing it, right, there's all sorts of like things that are like... I was not anticipating all sorts of obstacles in the path that I did not anticipate. 13:38 - Lau (Guest): Tell us about a few of those obstacles that you ran into. 13:40 - Anne (Host): Well, you know, if you're working with new people, they don't know you, right? They may or may not know your industry. These people did not know my industry, and so they need to be educated so that they can do the best job that they can. The amount of time that I spent educating it's amazing because, you know, I've been in this industry for, I don't know, 17, 18 years, and people that have been working with me have been working with me a long time, so that's a lot of years. Once you work with someone or, you know, you get to know them for that long of time, it's great, because you know the process, you know the industry, you know the person you're working with, you know what they're expecting. When you have new people, it's a whole new relationship, right? And it's like a new client, right, a new voiceover client, where I always loved voiceover because you got in and you got out quick. 14:25 - Anne (Host): A lot of times, yeah, you had a client that kept coming back. You developed a relationship, and typically it was an easy relationship because they've liked what you've done, and they were happy with it, and there was never really, for the most part, you're not having difficult moments within that relationship. This one, I am an owner of my business, right? I need to have it run in a particular way, so it's not like I'm the boss this time, right? Before, my clients, they're the boss, right? I have a skill that I'm providing, and I'm providing audio to them. They like it, they accept it, they pay me. It's great. They come back. Right, they give me new stuff. They like it, they accept it, they pay me. It's great. This, I'm the boss, right? I have to like it, I have to accept it, and I have to say, "This is great. This is moving my business forward." So I have to do a lot of assessment along the way, especially with new people who may not be familiar. 15:12 - Lau (Guest): Now I have a question about that, okay, because we get a lot of questions about this. Folks come in and feel like, "I'm working on a voiceover career or an actor career. If I need to hire people or I need to get a vendor to serve me in a particular service, they come in, they have their expertise. I pay them, they do it." The problem is they're missing the link of how much education and management you have to do when you hire a person, a consultant, a team. It's any person. It is not like, "Here, do my website, and I'm done, and I'll see you in a couple of weeks when it's done," and that's time consuming. Can you take us through, right, can you take us through a little bit of the process of how you are managing this new, brand new team of people who may or may not have the expertise in this industry? How are you managing those people? What does that look like in terms of time and in terms of effort? 16:05 - Anne (Host): Oh, it's a lot, it's a lot of time, it's a lot. It's more time than I anticipated, and I forgot. I mean, because I had gotten almost complacent because people knew me so well, right? I mean, and so now I have to educate new people, a new team, on how I want my business to move forward and who I am and certain things that I expect. And so the amount of time that was required, I did not anticipate. I thought it would be easy, but it's not. And it's interesting because it kind of brought me back to, you know, you think things are just automated and my web girl, I've worked with her for 15 years, she knows me, she knows exactly like what I love, she knows if I say I need something on my website, she could do it. I didn't have to like micromanage at all. Now, all of a sudden, right, there's a lot of time spent educating the new team on, "Here's the practices and the procedures. And this is the way that I like it, because I'm the boss, right?" That amount of time that I'm managing, and I don't like to micromanage. What I like to do is educate enough so that I can say, "Go be creative, do it." It's so funny because, no matter what they do for you, right, they have to know who you are and your brand in order to be able to help you grow your business further. 17:17 - Anne (Host): And I literally went to the boot. Again, I go back to the boot, but I went shopping yesterday. I had a gift card to spend it at this Western store, and I got a cowboy hat. I got a cowboy hat, it's really cool. And the guy branded it for me on the inside of it, and I said, "Well, I love branding." Right, I love branding. "Let's do my initials AG." You know, that's like my website, it's everything. So he has the branding AG. And then I said, "Oh, I like those stars. I'm a star, make me a star." And the way he branded me, he floured it. Like every time he put that branding iron on the hat and he picked it up, it was branded. It was like a big flourish. And I'm like, "I don't care what you do or how many stars you put on it, you're creative. He's like, 'Oh, I'm a creative person, you do your thing, I trust you. You can put as many stars on there as you want, but I'm a star.'" So he's like, "Okay." So I let him like creatively flourish with my brand. But I gave him the specs on, "Here's my AG brand, and I need it to look like this. But now you can flourish and enhance the brand." 18:15 - Anne (Host): It's kind of what I'm doing with my business, right? I'm allowing people to do what they're good at, and that's a big thing. Like to kind of give up the control to allow the people who are experts in what they do, like I'm not a graphic expert, right? I need a graphic expert to create beautiful graphics for my website or a beautiful graphic for my social media, and so that's what they do, right? So I'm like, "Here, here's my guidelines, here's the brand, here's what it looks like for the most part, but put your creative flourish on it," and I love that. That's how I want to be able to manage people. I want to be able to have people that I can say, "Here, here's your baseline, your guidelines for the business. This is how I need it to sound, this is how I want to be represented. Go ahead, put your creative flourish on it." 18:58 - Lau (Guest): Do you feel like, Annie, especially if it's a company that has never worked with someone like you or someone like this brand or even in the genre of the business, do you feel like you can trust them to go off and create? Because there are so many questions that come up about the products and services themselves, do you feel like you can sort of take that step away, or do you feel like in the first couple months you don't? 19:23 - Anne (Host): I do need to be on top of the matter for the first couple, because I, yes, and that's what I'm finding, is that I do have to say, "No, this isn't quite what I need. Let's make adjustments," and they need to be willing to make adjustments while they get to know. It's a mutual, we need to get to know each other. 19:38 - Lau (Guest): Okay, so I have a question about that. How do you determine—this is a common question of all of our talent and clients—how do you determine how to bank hours according to what you're paying your marketing team to bank hours in order to educate, collaborate, go back and forth? How do you negotiate that with your company, not really knowing how much time they're going to need to figure it out? 20:06 - Anne (Host): Well, honestly, like, no sacrifice, no success, right? I am sacrificing a lot of my hours to do all the checking and then making the corrections and saying, "No, this, not this, this." And so for me, it's a sacrifice, right? It's a sacrifice of my time. I have to make sure I allocate time to be able to do that to educate them. But the better I can educate them right in the beginning, the less time I'm going to have to spend later on. That's the way I feel, and the easier it'll be for them to get to know me. I don't think that there's any lack of content about me out there, so, like there's lots of help if people need to know who is Ann Ganguzza. 20:43 - Lau (Guest): But the question is that a lot of people are going to be wondering is what if they want to hire a marketing team? What if they want to have a marketing consultant, right, working on? How do they know how much that investment will be, not just time but money, how much that investment will be based on the kind of education and back and forth that they will need to do with that team? Even if they're in the industry, they're still going to need to do it. 21:07 - Anne (Host): Yeah, it's probably more than you anticipate. You think that you can just say, "Here, create a graphic," or "Make my website." But there's so much that, again, because we are personal brands out there, right, in this industry. We are personal brands, brands out there, right? In this industry, we are personal brands. There's so much of us that is invested in representation and what we look like, what we sound like, how we're being sold, right? There's so much of us that, if we are not able to educate a team on who we are, right, and how we need to be represented, right, you need to be able to allocate that time. So the way that it's working with my team is that services are rendered. I mean, I don't pay for every version of a graphic. They basically do it until it's right, and that's how that works. I pay a blanket fee. 21:53 - Lau (Guest): Do they give you an amount of hours that they're willing to budget in for the month? 21:55 - Anne (Host): Nope, nope, that's great. There's no, yeah, there's no, not in a contract, let's put it that way. And so that was something that actually it's a really great question, because that was something that I wanted to make sure of. I mean, when we went back, right, "Here's what I need. I need to have this, this, this and this. Are you able to provide that, right, and are you able to provide revisions, right, without additional charges?" There's no charges. I'm paying a retainer fee, and so there are no, at least in the contract. There are not, right. There are not. There is a statement of work. There are timeframes. So if I need this to be done on my website, I should expect it to take this long. 22:40 - Lau (Guest): Right. Now, I have a question about that, Annie. If they're doing socials, which they're engaging in SEO, but also an engagement for you, right? They're doing socials in terms of engagement, they're doing graphics. 22:52 - Anne (Host): They're doing some graphics. They're doing graphics. 22:55 - Lau (Guest): But do they actually go on and engage in your voice? 22:57 - Anne (Host): I'm engaging right now. Okay, the question is, though, for people who need help, they would. They would. 23:02 - Lau (Guest): Well, that's the question I have. 23:03 - Anne (Host): If I wanted them to, they would, but I want to engage with the people as long as I have the time. I want to be able. The initial like impression of me and then if there are comments or questions, I like to engage for now, until there are some questions that they can handle on my behalf. But I don't want to misrepresent or people to think that, "Oh, somebody besides Ann is answering." For the most part, I'm interacting with any engagement that happens. They just need to provide the initial wow for the engagement. 23:37 - Lau (Guest): I got you. I got you. 23:38 - Anne (Host): But they would. They said they would, and I actually... We never actually went into that, because that's not what I'm having them do right now. I'm more concerned with them getting the website SEO going, doing some SEO work. They're doing a lot of SEO work for me, which, again, I wanted to be able to expand my reach and to be found outside of the circle that I was in already. 23:57 - Anne (Host): So that requires a lot of keywords. It requires a lot of going back to content that I've produced, creating new graphics for it, creating new titles, creating new words, you know, new content, new descriptions. And so, for the most part, I am approving all of that, and if it needs to go back to the drawing board, I basically correct it and say, "No, let's do this, let's do that." Again, I'll say, "I would never have said this, right, or I would never say this. This is not the proper terminology for this industry." So that's the one thing is that they don't necessarily know the terminology in the industry, nor do they know like, graphically, like, what microphone should I represent? Like, no, do not put a dynamic microphone. 24:39 - Lau (Guest): So you're doing that kind of team, and it's good for our listeners to just know, like, why are you doing this when you could do it yourself? But the expertise of an ad team like this is not only graphics and graphic design, but it's also how to reach your target markets. 24:57 - Anne (Host): Yes, and a different perspective, Lau. That's the other thing that I want to say is, the biggest benefit of this is it's great to have people in the industry, and I still have people in the industry that are doing work for me, but also having a perspective that's outside of the industry, because, again, I need to get outside of the bubble that I'm in, right? And so how do I do that without a different perspective? Right, I want to attract corporate clients. Right, I want to attract corporate clients for my voiceover. How am I going to do that if they're not in my circles already? Right, how am I going to reach outside? 25:28 - Anne (Host): And so a lot of it was to have somebody that does that for all industries to be able to do that for me, and then also, basically, to give me the perspective, like, so that I don't get in my own way, because I've literally had to say, like, "Do you think you should put my face on that graphic right now?" 25:47 - Anne (Host): "Because doesn't that seem too assuming, you know?" And I get all like, here I am getting in my own way, and they're like, "No, no, no, no, because at this stage of the sales funnel, right, they don't know you yet, and so you need to represent your face in that confident way, blah, blah, blah, blah. Later on down in the sales funnel, when they know you, then you don't have to repeat that." So they're experts in that, and basically there's a lot that I'm learning from them, and they're learning a lot about the industry from me. And we're collaborating, and that's the one thing that I do like is that it's in a very collaborative sort of way, and it wasn't without many interviews, by the way, and what's cool about that is they become... 26:31 - Lau (Guest): Yes, you're educating them about the industry and how they need, and people are going to be seeing and thinking about you that are not esoteric, they're not in the industry, they're people that are in the universe. Corporate people, people who might hire me for a voiceover. Yeah, I just want to say, though, that that is a perspective that we all lose along the way. 26:53 - Anne (Host): We do. 26:54 - Lau (Guest): Because we get so involved in the audience that we're currently with, we think everyone is like that. Everyone sees it that way, when really it can be quite opposite to that, that they see you as something totally different than what you think they're seeing you as. 27:07 - Anne (Host): Yeah, and that was the biggest education for me and the biggest takeaway is that it's a growth experience. 27:15 - Anne (Host): Growth is not always fun. Growth is not always fun, growth is not always easy, but growth is to me a sign of moving ahead and moving forward. And so, as long as I can accept that, and I can accept the beatings along the way and the discomfort, and the discomfort, you know, you've got your triumphs and celebrations and exciting moments, but you also have, yeah, you got to work that out. 27:37 - Anne (Host): Work out my stress, work out my stress. I love it. But it's all good, guys, and bosses. I guess this whole discussion today was like really small steps can really mean large growth for you in the long term. And for me, it was a bunch of tiny steps in my head, and then it was just kind of a leap of faith, right, once I said, "What's the worst that could happen?" 27:57 - Anne (Host): Right, I have accepted the worst thing that could happen. And I remember that's so funny, Lau, because in the beginning of time, I feel like in the beginning of time when I graduated college, right, a thousand years ago, a thousand years ago, when I graduated college and I was trying to determine whether I should accept a job in New Jersey, right? Should I move my young butt to New Jersey in a place that I didn't know anybody, all by myself, right, and work for this company? And I said, "You know what? It's scary, but I'll give it a year, and if it doesn't work out in a year, guess what? I can move home." The worst thing is, I don't like it and I move home. 28:31 - Anne (Host): So I did the same thing with my business, and I'll tell you what, Lau, it really puts things in perspective. I said, "Okay, I have a certain amount of money that I can lose, that I'm going to invest, I can lose it, and I'm okay with that, as long as I grow along the way. And if I grow along the way, I have such an education." To me, I'm like, "This is great, now I can move forward." 28:50 - Lau (Guest): I'm with you, totally, I'm with you. Now, one more question: To the people who are not leveling up quite in that way. Maybe they're in an early stage, earlier stage. They say, "I need this, I love this, and I want this, but I don't know if I have the extra money, I don't know if I have the extra capital for this." What do you say to those people that are a little bit tighter on budget, a little bit more worried about paying the rent, a little bit earlier in the game, or maybe they're not, maybe they've been in it for 10, 15 years, but they're still worried about the tight purse strings? What do you say about that? 29:21 - Anne (Host): Well, okay. So tight purse strings are one thing, right? I mean, you either do what you have to do to get the money. You put it in savings, you save for as long, earn it. 29:29 - Lau (Guest): Yeah, you work at Dunkin' Donuts. You know what I mean? Beg, borrow, steal it, as we used to say. Make me my iced coffee at Dunkin' Donuts. 29:35 - Anne (Host): You do whatever you do and you put it away, and then you say, "I've got this amount of money to invest." 29:40 - Lau (Guest): That's if you actually need the cash, right? Yeah. 29:42 - Anne (Host): And if it's not just cash and you just don't want to work, do you know what I mean? Like educate yourself. Like spend the money, invest the money in yourself. If you don't have money, it's time. 29:55 - Lau (Guest): Right. Beg, borrow, steal, right? Don't. I think you're also saying one really important work ethic thing that's a bottom line too, is you got to work harder? 30:00 - Anne (Host): Not only smarter. 30:02 - Lau (Guest): You got to work harder. I don't know why people threw that out the window. "Work smarter, not harder." Well, you kind of have to do both. 30:09 - Anne (Host): You have to do both. You have to work hard and work smart, right? Yeah, you do, and that's actually, I love that you said that. You really do. I mean, people know that I work. I mean, I'm just, I'm working extra hours right now. 30:19 - Lau (Guest): I'm not calling you a slob, but you're a grinder. You know what I mean? You are a grinder. 30:24 - Anne (Host): I always have been, but more so than I really want to. But my ultimate goal is so that I'm not going to have to work so hard in the future. Right? And again, if I were stagnant, right, and I just got kind of complacent, then that's almost worse. 30:37 - Lau (Guest): Yeah, but I know you. I know you. I don't think you're ever going to retire. You're not the type. You'll be on the phone at 98 going, "Wait a second, are you saying this?" I mean, you do have too much love and passion for everything that you're doing, and you know that's what really drives us at the end of the day. It's fun, there's got to be a fun factor. 30:55 - Anne (Host): Well, I think it's like a game. It's a game I play, you know, in a way. 30:59 - Lau (Guest): I mean, there's strategy, you want to win. Exactly, it's a very creative game for me. 31:05 - Anne (Host): So I think that, bosses, we all have to play that creative game. We all have to not just want to win at our performance and be in the booth and do a great job, but also win at our businesses and play the game. I mean, play the game. It's not a bad game to play, it's a fun game if you allow it to be, right, even though I'm telling you, I have discomfort, I'm stressed, but I enjoy the journey. 31:27 - Lau (Guest): I enjoy the journey. And remember what makes it successful, Annie, is that you're the designer of the game. Yes, you get to not only play the game, you get to design it. So don't lose out on the design element. That's the beautiful thing about it, right? 31:37 - Anne (Host): We're designing our own game. 31:39 - Lau (Guest): Our businesses are similar in the industry, but they couldn't be more different in the way they're designed and executed, and that's the beauty of what we do as creatives. Is that, and any industry that you run your own business, no two restaurants are really the same. 31:53 - Announcer: There's different designers. 31:55 - Lau (Guest): So have fun with that. 32:02 - Anne (Host): So guys, do the work, do the work, Make the small changes. 32:04 - Anne (Host): Yeah, Lau it's been amazing. Thank you so much for all your love and encouragement too. You are a big part of my team and I love having encouragement that does help, because you don't feel so all alone and I'm not also like, oh my God, am I doing the right thing? So yeah, guys, I'm going to give a great big shout out to our sponsor, ipdtl. You, too, can connect and network like bosses, like Lau and myself. Find out more at IPDTLcom Bosses. Have an amazing week and let's go build those muscles. All right, bye, bye. 32:33 - Announcer: Join us next week for another edition of VO Boss with your host, Anne Ganguzza, and take your business to the next level. Sign up for our mailing list at vobosscom and receive exclusive content, industry revolutionizing tips and strategies and new ways to rock your business like a boss. Redistribution with permission. Coast to coast connectivity via1 IPDTL.  

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