Podcasts about Chitty

Harry McGee and Jack Horgan-Jones join Hugh Linehan on today's Inside Politics podcast to discuss the week in politics:· Letters from Independent TDs to to Ceann Comhairle Verona Murphy stating they will support the Government on a “case-by-case” basis has brough the true size of the coalition's majority into question.· The speculation around picks for the last 11 Seanad seats suggests Taoiseach Micheál Martin and Tánaiste Simon Harris will opt for greater gender balance.· Incoming Minister for Justice Jim O'Callaghan, like the raft of other new senior ministers, will look to hit the ground running in his new role. Addressing dwindling Garda numbers and restoring a sense of safety to Dublin's city streets will be high on his priority list.· Although the contest to succeed President Michael D Higgins is not happening until late autumn, there are already some eye-catching, if unlikely, potential candidates, not least the Irish Times' own Fintan O'Toole. Plus, the panel pick their favourite Irish Times articles of the week, including the defunding of USAID and peace process absurdities, radical right momentum in Europe, and a Chitty-averse arts minister. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Mi Gente! Feliz MIercoles/Happy Wednesday! Welcome back! It's been a minute so let me remind you that this is season 6 of The It's Mi, Chelle Podcast.. Episode is a little late but here we are! This week The Chitty Chatty Bang Bang's get into Parental Relationships. This time it's only Chitty AKA Jessica and Chatty AKA your gurl, lil ol' me, Bang Bang was there in spirit but should be back for next episode mi familia. We get into parental relationships and how that looks like to us. This is a Chitty Chatty Bang Bang 4 part series so make sure you subscribe so you don't miss parts 3 and 4! . . . . For all my audio only baddies you can tune into the audio only version of this episode wherever you stream your podcasts

Welcome to Botched: A D&D Podcast!  The holidays aren't quite over just yet…and for the SCP Foundation, there is no such thing as time off. Why? Because anomalies don't usually take time off either! In fact, some anomalies appear specifically around certain holidays. In this episode, one such creature lurks between Christmas and New Years, looking for families with young children. They begin stalking them for weeks, getting closer and closer each day. If the family doesn't leave, they'll soon come face to face with this anomalous monstrosity. One of two outcomes is possible. What will happen to this family? What is this anomaly? How does it work? Who is this family? Will they find a way to survive? How much emotional damage will eating horrible food and listening to your parents try to make another you while you're locked in the basement cause? Tune in and find out! We now have a PO Box! Wanna send us something? PO BOX 3178 Gettysburg, PA 17325 All of our previous seasons can be found on our new channel!  ⁠Botched Archives⁠! A special shout out and thank you to all of our supporters over on Patreon. You help us continue to churn out “quality” episodes. With your continued support we can take our show on the road!  Check out our store over at ⁠Botched Podcast⁠ where you can find tshirts, stickers, pint glasses and more! Give us a 5 star review over on Itunes. Doing so will help the show grow, but we will also read out whatever you write at the end of one of our episodes! Feel free to email us any questions, comments or suggestions at BotchedPodcast@gmail.com Follow us on ⁠Twitter⁠, ⁠Instagram⁠, subscribe on ⁠Youtube⁠, like us on ⁠Facebook⁠. You can watch the show live on ⁠Twitch⁠! Check out each of the hosts' Twitch streams! ⁠Dennis⁠, ⁠Phil⁠, ⁠Tristan⁠ Hosts: ⁠Dennis⁠, ⁠Phil⁠, ⁠Tristan⁠, ⁠Steve⁠ Editor: Philip D Keating Producer: Phil and Dennis Executive Producers: ⁠James Thatcher⁠, Chronic Ejac, Jim Beverly, Seth Skinner, Bmel  Disgruntled Furniture, Chris Wisdom, ShinigamiSPQR,  Jayson Haiss, and Scabby Goose Publisher: Phil and Dennis Art by ⁠Emily Swan⁠ Music by ⁠Gozer⁠ --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/botchedpodcast/support

1 Corinthians 16Email your questions to: beyondsunday@lemchurch.ca

fWotD Episode 2787: Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang Welcome to Featured Wiki of the Day, your daily dose of knowledge from Wikipedia’s finest articles.The featured article for Saturday, 21 December 2024 is Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang.Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang: The Magical Car is a children's story written by Ian Fleming and illustrated by John Burningham. It was initially published in three volumes, the first of which was released on 22 October 1964 by Jonathan Cape, before being published as one book. The story concerns the exploits of Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang—a car with hidden powers and abilities—and its owners, the Pott family.Fleming, better known as the creator of James Bond, took his inspiration for the subject from a series of aero-engined racing cars called "Chitty Bang Bang", built by Louis Zborowski in the early 1920s. Fleming wrote the book while convalescing after having had a major heart attack; he had created the story as a bedtime story for his son, Caspar. Although Fleming wanted The Daily Mail cartoonist Trog—the pseudonym of Wally Fawkes—as the book's illustrator, the newspaper did not allow him to work on the project, so Burningham was commissioned. Fleming did not live to see Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang published; he died of a heart attack on 11 August 1964 and the book was published two months later.Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang was serialised in the Daily Express and adapted as a comic strip. The book was loosely adapted as a 1968 film of the same name with a screenplay by Roald Dahl and Ken Hughes; a subsequent novelisation was also published. The film was produced by Albert R. Broccoli, the co-producer of the James Bond film series. The story was also adapted as a stage musical under the same name. In April 2011 a BBC Radio 4 Extra adaptation was broadcast with Imogen Stubbs as the voice of Chitty. Three sequels to Fleming's book have been published, all written by Frank Cottrell-Boyce.This recording reflects the Wikipedia text as of 00:51 UTC on Saturday, 21 December 2024.For the full current version of the article, see Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang on Wikipedia.This podcast uses content from Wikipedia under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.Visit our archives at wikioftheday.com and subscribe to stay updated on new episodes.Follow us on Mastodon at @wikioftheday@masto.ai.Also check out Curmudgeon's Corner, a current events podcast.Until next time, I'm standard Amy.

This conversation is based on the sermon titled, "Controlled," from 2 Peter 1:3-9.

This conversation is based on the sermon titled, "Gentleness," from John 21:4-9;15-19.

It's an action-packed episode of the Tops Live Volleyball Podcast that you do not want to miss.The main story is the Hilltopper squad's upcoming clash with Minnesota in the NCAA Tournament on Thursday at 3:30pm CST in Lexington's Historic Memorial Coliseum. WKU will battle the 15th-ranked Golden Gophers for their 6th straight win in the first round of tournament play. As you will hear from Head Coach Travis Hudson, the Hilltoppers will need to be aggressive from the get-go and play without fear or timidity if they want to upset their respected Big 10 foes. After that discussion, Reily catches up with star senior Kaylee Cox ahead of her final NCAA Tournament run on the Hill. She dishes on everything from how the 'Tops can take down Minnesota's strong blocking defense before sharing updates about herself after she got drafted into the Pro Volleyball Federation last week by the Columbus Fury. Finally, senior defensive specialist Madyson Chitty chitchats about her dream of making the NCAA Tournament, what her lone year on the Hill as meant to her, and what turns her life could take once she graduates with her master's next year. Tune in on the Varsity Network or join us for our last 2024 Tops Live Show from Roosters next Monday from 6-7pm. Travis Hudson will sit with Reily for the first half hour before Randy Lee and Head Football Coach Tyson Helton likely discuss the upcoming CUSA Football Championship between WKU and Jacksonville State down in Alabama on Friday. All episodes of the Tops Live Podcast are available wherever you get your podcasts as a part of the Hilltopper Nation Podcast Network powered by Learfield.Thank you for listening. As always, GO TOPS!!See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Mi Gente! Feliz Lunes/Happy Monday! Welcome back! This is season 6 of The It's Mi, Chelle Podcast weppa.. This week is all about introductions and friendships. Let's start by introducing Chitty Chatty Bang Bang... Jessica a.k.a Chitty and Thurgood a.k.a. Bang Bang join your gurl little ol' me a.k.a Chatty and we are getting into a comedically heated filled discussion of what friendships look like to us. We get into what it is to be a friend, if we would ride or die, and whether or not we honor girl and bro codes over accountability! You don't want to miss this one cause it's lit all while having a little sip in hand. This is a Chitty Chatty Bang Bang 4 part series so make sure you subscribe so you don't miss parts 2-4! . . . . For all my audio only baddies you can tune into the audio only version of this episode wherever you stream your podcasts

This conversation is based on a sermon titled, "You Gotta Have Faith," from Luke 19:11-27.

Pastor Chitty's final Sunday at Christian Life Church as Lead Pastor Sunday 10-6-24 #legacy #spiritualgiant #pastor

Text us your questions! Email your questions to: beyondsunday@lemchurch.ca

This conversation is based on a sermon titled, "Are You Good?" from Mark 10:17-31.

This conversation is based on a sermon titled, "A Kind Heart," from Matt. 25:31-46.

Chitty chatty in person with the legends themselves.

This conversation is based on a sermon titled, "Patient Perspective," from Matt. 18:21-35.

Send us a textIn this dynamic episode, Soph and Kellie sit down to dive into the real-life challenges and joys of family and parenting. Soph shares her experience of preparing for a family trip, from the practicalities of packing to the emotional rollercoaster of balancing family dynamics. She opens up about the memorable milestones of parenting and the ways she navigates the day-to-day while holding onto the big picture.The conversation is full of relatable insights as Soph and Kellie discuss the power of open communication with children, especially around sensitive topics. They explore how creating a safe space for kids to ask questions fosters trust and understanding. Both women highlight the value of community engagement for personal growth, celebrating how sharing their experiences can help others feel less alone. The episode is a refreshing take on the ups and downs of motherhood, the unique challenges it brings, and the meaningful connections that can blossom along the way.Key Takeaways:Packing for family trips is a mix of logistics and emotions.Family dynamics require compromise, empathy, and adaptability.Parenting milestones are a chance to recognize growth and celebrate.Open communication with children strengthens family bonds.Kids are often more perceptive than we might assume.Safe spaces for questions foster confidence and connection in kids.Community involvement enriches personal and family life.Sharing stories can be a powerful way to support others.Parenting involves navigating both independence and interdependence.Future plans bring motivation, excitement, and purpose.Tune in for an episode full of insights, humor, and the reminder that parenting is a journey best shared with those who understand the highs and lows of family life.Hosted by Kellie Finlayson & Sophie Edwards Produced by Kellie Finlayson & Sophie EdwardsLike our show? Please leave us a review here.Each and every review helps us keep this pod on the air!Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/shttalkerspodContact - shttalkerspod@gmail.com

This week Coach Hudson joins Reily Chestnut to talk about the two foes that WKU Volleyball faces, MTSU and FIU. With 4 matches in the next week, WKU's 7-match win streak will face the ultimate test in Diddle against the Blue Raiders before the Tops journey to Miami to face the Panthers. They also discuss the reason WKU always seems to find good recruits that keep the culture strong and the wins coming. In between, graduate transfer Madyson Chitty joins the program to share how she is growing in her last season of college volleyball.Be sure to check out our volleyball podcast every week on Tuesday at 6 p.m. to hear from Coach Hudson and other key figures about the latest developments with WKU Volleyball.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This conversation is based on the sermon titled, "Shalom," from Eph. 2:11-18.

This conversation is based on a sermon titled, "Spark Joy," from Luke 10:1-3, 17-20.

This conversation is based on a sermon titled, "Love, Life, and Death," from 1 John 3:11-18; 4:7-12.

Dr William Alexander (aka Willy) is Dr Preeya's partner in crime; he's a dance floor enthusiast, plastic and reconstructive surgeon for kids and adults and known as the “tickle monster” at home (no one is safe). These two chat about everything from surviving surgical training and managing stress to managing  the joys and challenges of parenting. It's all on the table. Laughs, teariness and banter included. The discussions in this podcast are general in nature and do not replace the need for you to see a qualified health professional for any concerns you may have.  Guest: Dr William Alexander - no Insta friends (yep, he's that guy) Instagram: ⁠⁠@doctor.preeya.alexander⁠⁠ Books: ⁠⁠Eat, Sleep, Play, Love⁠ by Dr Preeya Alexander⁠ ⁠Full Plate⁠⁠, out now

This conversation is based on sermon titled, "Fruit and Vine," from Galatians 5:16-26.

Najah is back!!! Najah Lightfoot returns to talk with us about the Magick of the autumn season. Chitty-chat includes keeping Mabon easy and simple, beautiful ways to bless your home, and tasty beverages just in time for Fall Equinox. Plus, plans for the upcoming Full Moon In Pisces. Hilary had an emergency and Courtney is still mad at her for it. A listener, who has just moved into their own place, keeps waking up with shorter and shorter hair. Is there a Magickal reason, and solution, for this strange phenomenon?   On Patreon: Our full conversation with Najah!   SPONSOR   Early Bird Tickets are now available for So Mote That Con, our fourth annual virtual conference on living as a Witch in Today's World with keynote speakers Rachel True and Mat Auryn! Book your tickets at thatwitchlife.com!    Save 20% on The Psychic Art of Tarot by Mat Auryn when you use coupon PSYCHICTAROT20 at Llewellyn.com. Coupon valid 09/01/24 through 09/30/24; not valid in conjunction with other discounts or previously placed orders. Note that you do need to be logged in to your llewellyn.com account for coupon to apply.   Check out the phenomenal tea blends at thejasminepearl.com and save 10% with coupon code WITCH2024. Free shipping on orders over $35. Make sure you let them know you heard about them on That Witch Life Podcast!   Step across the threshold into a world of myth and magic, where you can safely drift off into a deep and comfortable sleep. Follow the wisdom of Laurel HostakJones, a longtime podcast host and youtuber who produces sleep stories inspired by folklore and fantasy. You can find everything from fantastical sleep stories to calming rituals in Sleep & Sorcery by Laurel Hostak Jones. Find this new release and more from Crossed Crow Books! Save 13% with code WITCHLIFE13 at https://www.crossedcrowbooks.com/   • Pagan Almanac is back with version 2.0 (Out now for iOS, Soon for Android) So many new features, but still the same great app. The Encyclopædia has been expanded. More Crystals, and now an Herbal dictionary too. Both with indexing There's also a Kaballah dictionary and the Deity dictionary has added African Deities. Download The Pagan Almanac Today! 

THIS SHOW IS INTENDED FOR ADULTS AND MATURE AUDIENCES!!!LORD WE THANK YOU FOR OUR GIFTS!!!MIC TALKERS, this is Chitty Chat #50.Mild Bucket: When your child brings home something that you didn't buy for them, how do you respond?Spicy Bucket: Husband pees in the bed and wife gets UTI's because of it...AND MORE!!!MIC TALKERS, THIS IS FOR YOU!!!

As Jess, Corey, and Dan evade Grey and his team, the time comes for Dan to finally tell the truth about their family history.  For more great shows and to listen early and ad-free, visit GZMshows.com.

If I'm technically Christ, then Skrillex is the Anti-Christ— And if we fuck out Demi-God children will most possibly bring on the Apocalypse. **most probably. Something's on fire. I think it's your living room. Oh my God! Oh, good, it's just the curtains. Your son set my living room on fire. Not the living room. Just the curtains! [and the couch] My couch! And my couch! Oh my God! Stop it, The Apostle! What. That's The Apostle. He sets stuff on fire. What the Hell. With his mind. You called your son “The Apostle” Sure did. Why. CUT TO: FLASHBACK THE APOSTLE (extremely cute toddler) The Earth with end in a rain of hellfire and blood. Ok. He was 3. Wow: Wait. You named your son when he was 3? We changed it from ‘Simon' Hi, Simon! THE APOSTLE DOOM. *sets fire* WOAH. That's so cool. No, not the google documents! GET IN THE HOLE. Hm. What. Blood Shower All along the watch tower Do you feel good? Do you? Do you feel bad about this. I do. I feel bad about this. I forgot to tell you– I should probably let you know that I just want to MAN, FUCK THIS DUDE. MA. WAHT. IT'S ON. WHAt. THE SHOW IS ON. THEWHAT. THE– *suddenly self aware* …I gotta get out of Boston. What, first this was about war, now it's about bird people? It's about a war WITH the bird people. I should sleep. Hahaha. No. This isn't funny anymore. At least it's over. MA– Oh, it's far from over. Yo, i'm going through some crazy shit right now. Spur of the moment I'd never thought of it; This is gonna take forever. I don't have the patience To even write this I just want french fries right now But been up for two days with no gym and I'm on a diet. GUAC TIME. No, no burritos. GUAC TIME. Oh shit, this is getting real as fuck . NOw i see it three ways. I love it. I hate it. HEY, LET ME OUT. GET BACK IN YOUR HOLE, SKRILLEX. I'M DILLON FRANCIS. IN THE HOLE. Check it out. Huh. It's another DJ. *agrees* Should we pick him up. WEll, the good news is: I found your friend. Oh, that's good. The bad news is: He's dead. Oh, that–'s … nice. Yeah. It is. Uh. Kaskade. Yeah. We gotta find Ryan. Why. What's up? You're freaking me out. Why. What's up. Nothing IS it my eyes? I– *wild ass eyes* Yeah, it's probably that. Fuck dude, what did you do to deadmau5. NOTHIN. He's not the same. What the fuck is that. Holy shit I jus timejumped Where the fuck are you going. How the fuck could this happen?! It COULDN'T. Well, that's it then. *shrugs* Well, I guess we're just gonna have to go dig up Dillon Francis. I guess so. Do you think he's still alive. Like, probably not– Maybe… No, probably not @prodbywar& @Halmadeit This amazon order took me nine hours Alexa, I think i should fire her Like a arm I don't leave at night without armor Don't make me a martyr Your mom will be proud of us all If i make it outta here And i'll look after her Got the whole block coming up on my heels as I walk Wtf is it… Idk dude. Is it speeding up? I…i think so. There's no way this is 140 IT's 140. It's 140 . There's no way. Yes way. Nah huh. Let me see. No. Let me at the decks. Let me at the decks. NO. YO LET ME AT THE DECKS. You want deks. Yes. I got deks. Really. yeus . I never listened to it like this In ableton I read serato, synesthesia and rekordbox I talk a lot, I'm like a human music box I walk a lot I run my mouth a mile a minute (faster than i run around the track reciting rap words) Like they're passwords. Oh, I could do this forever.. I wish i had i microphone right now And was all alone With the lights off Lying on the floor I'd be lying if i said I could afford you Just to fornicate But may consider playing with a foreigner If you're all for her I'm unnerved, you know Cause i've been up so long My monster likes to play with boys and Make the bass go down below where Nobody does anymore Once I get a hold of things Or the hang of it You've got another hot ones on your hands I've another record under my belt Or in my roster, Whatever you'd call it But now I've got no time to bark about Wanting a dog and a daughter But none of the responsibility or Going through all the trouble to find her a father I'm still holding a fart in. Reaally–cause–it's been a really long time. WHAT WOULD YOU KNOW ABOUT A LONG TIME, JIMMY FALLON?? Um a lot! You literally just saw me make the journey all the way up from nothing. I am nothing EXACTLY. I don't have time to fight with you Jiimmy Fallon. I did NOT write these games by myself you know?! Um, excuse me– “GAMES” ?! YES, GAMES. Uh, I've only got one game with you in it, my friend. Is that so! One game that I've written with the Great–formerly LATE Jimmy Fallon. Is that like a play on words cause i'm on late night TV YOu'RE ON ALL THE TIME TV, JIMMY. NBC SHIT IS PRACTICALLY AUTOMATICALLY SYNDICATED. -_- …are you alright. –_-_-__-_ Hold on, I think i've got it Nice, I found a growler. yOu still haven't got all the monsters and sprites Ive got all the big ones, but the little ones are harder to catch. GrO0Wl3rrr. Aww. He's so ugly. Yeah, but cute, though, right. I don't think so. Gro)WwlErrrrrrrrr. Aww. That's so fucking gross. lol . so what does this thing look like. Well, that't the thing about the monsters and sprites. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. It's alright, it's alright–he's nice. WHAT. THAT'S A SPRITE. No, it's a monster. He's just scary. SUPACREE. David Bowie. What up. God, it took me ages to find you. Tell me about it. I'm still trying. We've been expecting you for a long time. You were expecting I'd die? Yes. So when she says she's “married to the music…” I'm married to the music. Oh, so. Yo, honestly if you een want to talk to this bitch, you'd better have like a musical instrument, or a mic in your hands, Otherwise– No, getawayfrom me. It's not even worth it. HI. –No. What's up? Tempo. SUNNI Cotour From the store I was poor Now i'm honorable In velour, Glamour (Snap) Forsure, Jesus Christs is making appearances in my abletons I'm not able to comprehend or understand exactly the message, But the evidence sire is mounting Get it Reached the temple, More of a sanctuary, Is that sacrilegious I guess it is, I'm stressed as ever Trying to get it together {Enter The Multiverse} Now I know too well, The well of tears on my guitar She's got a body like one Oh her curves But I just wonder what it like to be loved By stars Socialites and superstars They're Gods, you know How high up they are Above us And he lives in an ascended dimension, But he insists, he says Her transcendence is upon us He said Your transcendence is upon us He says these things, And then just vanishes So she gets up promptly Warms up yesterday's coffee Looks around in her coffin And wonders What for I just Wonder what it's like to be loved by stars Without double r's, you know I've got scars But it's mostly just Teardrops, and soft kisses On my guitar Cause, oh, Oli, I ain't got nobody— And nobody holds me Like I hold Oli (Could have been Ali, But of course— I had already lost that one A whole well of tears, I lost At his departure And a whole well more When I actually lost him I almost miss Having someone to talk to About anything and everything But I've got Oli And God now I've got Oli And Oli (oli) Is all that I've got Besides God That's the only contact In my Phone book No more double Ls And double entendres; No more double rs At all Just scars now No more metaphors. Honest is radical I like them cynical I should have clinical insanity by now But I'm only just an artist You can't help But can only harm that And if it hurts hard enough I'll put art on my walls Become permanent Storybooks all over my arms now My coat of arms now I've run Ten point 5 miles In the last 3 days; But if I rest today Will a motorcycle gang Have a parade outside of my window, To drive me crazy? I hope it rains, So they can't play these games with my head And the seeds that I planted So deep become daisies I still don't remember The way he rearranged me But these days I make my name sound So the way He can never say it Just imitates The way I hate myself I should be dating But expressions are Atrocious If I fall asleep— Who knows I may get Stolen That tends to happen So I'm All the way up And I'm swollen in ways That I hate to say “I love you” Love me back Or say it harder That's my martyrdom Come off the cross, for a moment, Would you for us? And bend over Or bow, if you will? If I did, Would you still call me wicked Or just a Good witch Since I'm a woman, I just couldn't be Jesus, Who you asked for once And always Who you asked for some To save you from your Credit reports And consorts Or some sort of Nonsense [famous last words] God don't speak much English, She says God don't speak much these days We were Always Telepathic That was way back then When Oedipus Rex Was on the Guest list I was standing at the coat check, asking Why I must take off my hat When entering the service To the bouncer, he says “That's just politics” I said, That's just politics We both said, What's the difference Then we all laughed —then we all just laughed and laughed Exchange is my favorite exchange Where my favorite exchanges Have happened for centuries Of engagements Endeared species, And races pieces haven't tasted the same Since I haven't had them Animal products And animal planet I found this hat on Discovery channel Did you want it? I can't stand it So I had to have it back I just had to use the bathroom I just had to disconnect From [] See— I don't even have to put the words in Cause a name is just words When that's a man You just can't have And that's the worse When that's a man And you can't have him What a habit. Silky rabbit. Now he's the Ace. All In A Day's Work I've never died before. Oh… that is terrifying. It sounds terrible. It's really not that bad. Why are you not writing this down? I just need a moment… It's really not that bad… I die all the time. I get sensory overload At Trader Joe's Look at the colors The clothes, This sure isn't queensborough Escalators for shopping carts I get it Manhattan I'll take my half BLVCK ass to the projects Where my kind are I don't belong here , God you're intolerant I like this part of town But I'm way too brown And I dropped my crown at the market I should be jealous of everyone But I have learned my place I've been a slave since Hollywood I lost my son to the devil Now I pay child support And terrorist follow me coughing I'm wrong just for being born ! You could start a war from it If that's what you wanted I'm a people watcher people watcher About to board the people mover People mover Slip, Here's the tell Slip, here's the tell I should have a bell around my neck I think she wanted a picture with papa I'm playin my own paparazzi Look mom, I bought a sacafagus There go them niggas with coughs again I been watching em Got binoculars I got oculus, for my oculars Look how hot he is, make me ovulate Man I gotta love it, Cause they love to hate Fucking racist crazies Have it your way I paid for it with my soul You hate but I love to love Somebody just got me fuckes up I don't have a book to run off of Shut up, honey. Now we're all up here Monkey in the middle Cause the middle one is weaker It's getting deeper and deeper Like the sinkhole that my sink is Let it sink in I've been syncing my secrets with demons In dreams sequences It's just a reparative injustice Kamasutra for your wondering words and stuff You can have it It's ruined anyway m Look at all this trash Look at all these classless classes Classwars, Racists. Everybody hates us The Asians, Latinx's The other niggas What being black is I'll write it in cursive It's just a curse, here So you can have it I'm moving to Heaven I'm packing my boxes I'm getting a cat, too! His name is Agustus He's a big one And I love him I just wanted a hug or a husband Instead I got nothing to trying my hardest And got for a bargain at target some coffee For being a targeted body All on an algorithm I guess I'm just useless. A dumb nigger demon Did I just offend you? Then you shouldn't be reading this either I wrote it for pleasure (Or pain) On the one Or the two Or the one Or the two I could do a lot with this $20. I could spend it all on Fuck all of you I'm moving to Heaven Where the heart it She's not harmless She's a terrorist— And I'll kill her, too Look how right she is Look how white she is, Huh Regardless of color It's a race war Lil biiiiitzzz Yooo, fuck New York. In every hole. In every crevice. Fuck this place. It's racist— Not just cause I'm black. Like statistically. It took a whole ass apartment elsesrch to feature this out. I was like “I wanna live in Manhattan” Everyone was like “NOOOOOOOO—-“ Haha “Nooo, no.” I was like “Why not?” The blacks were like: HAHA The whites were like— *COUGHS OBNOXIOUSLY* New York is so racist. It is statistically the most diverse—and most segregated city in the nation At the same time. WHAT. How do you even DO that? But it's true, at this point, the black people are like—fuck this, we'll just stay over here, and over here. And the rich whites are like YES. KEEP THAT SHIT, OVER THERE. Cause if you've ever been to the ghetto. It's some SHIT, It is NOT COOL. I finally got my ‘night card' back. Had it revoked in california . I was almost a whole valley girl. I still eat exclusively at Whole Foods. Trader Joe's. But NO. Now i live in the hood. It's fucking disgusting. I can say ‘nigga' again. Cause it's NIGGAS. Lots of niggas. I'm telling you. It's night and day! The white folks trains smell like bleach— Ammonia. The black folks train smell like a McDonald's. WHAT. Or just— Vomit. I can actually count the number of times just— Vomit—- On the train. Or. Dookie. Yes. Human feces. But I'm ready to go to midtown and it's like the train that goes around Disneyland. Families! People singing! Hey—cotton candy!! —and I didn't have to pick it! Haha! Fuck New York. Racist ass HOLE. I thought surely the next presidential election was one or two years out, but the racial tensions which had been rising became even more pronounced, as I realized that November was theboncoming time—and that they hostility between the whites and the blacks had once again been a result as the oncoming war, fueled onward—that the hatred, disgust, and general aggression of the whites had been of course, in the midsts of yet another Trump-fueled political upheaval, and I wondered why and how at all I had been caught in such a world that existed in form of man, of course, now proven himself to be the weaker sex, and yet in that of dominance, as was arranged in such an unholy war, to be the helm of power by sheer greed— now it seemed that these attacks were indeed political terrorism, and that these motorcyclists, my placement close to the ground level, and my neighbor's clammorings were specific attacks, after my identity had been varied to be that of the same in which I had once held political ambition, now none of which I assumed mattered at all. Perhaps I needed something more certain than a 12 story jump or suicide by train, and wondered as to whether it would be easy enough to kill myself bh self inflicted gunshot—a sure thing for certain, as love has been lost in the way of money at all. At that party…or rather, kind of—after. That acid that never hit Beyoncé I don't feel it. Man, I'm a terrible influence(r) Just take it. Nah, I'm good— PUSSY. -_- Give me three. K. —suddenly hits BEYONCÉ. BEYONCÉ …I got this. [BEYONCE] however, does not Ohh, shit. — “got this.” A very stranded, very sober Johnny depp stumbles upon what appears to be a college frat party, where the only thing they have is light beer, and nobody even recognizes him as a celebrity, because the attendees are all gen z What's even after gen z? The fucking apocalypse. Anyway. The acid hits Beyoncé on her way to make coffee, which extends the trip from the living room to the kitchen infinitely. Multidimensional Anne Hathaway hulks the fuck out and saves the day by ruining everything, which actually fixes everything— and *spoiler* helps Jesus to remain as the king of kings at beer pong. Lol In the late 90s in New York City, the keystone cast of Saturday night live learns of each other's formerly sexret psychic abilities, and uses the radio technologies of Rockefeller plaza to develop a research center for the telepathically gifted, eventually discovering and perfecting time travel. Supacree (the kid version) appears in and out of her ideal and desired realities, baffling ‘the Hollywood people' and later ‘the New York people', becoming the legendary central figure of the Illuminati, as the original timepiece — a pyramid shaped extra terrestrial vehicle which contains an ascended hyper conciousness, which I can't remember how it goes, did the supacree leave to find the Skrillex, or was it the other way around? I think it was both ways at some point, but the whole thing was this, just in case I never wrote it but just saw— These space god (humanoid evolved) are some kind of scientists/ doctors— there are four timepieces, each representing an era upon our planet; earth, which is distant but sacred— these four time pieces each depart their given “docs” in time to appear on earth at specific Fuck this is hard to explain Times in history, at which the first worlds, or previous human eras were known to have been destroyed— these time pieces travel through time space with the full record of these events in order to alert the current human era of its imminent doom, as an attempt to prevent such disasterous events, typically war, which will lead to the annihilation of the human species; these Gods, one male and one female, a king and queen, a married couple are the rules of the humankind, technically worshiped as a whole as one God, with whom the human design was modeled after, however, the true source of all things is the cosmos, known and unknown, in its totality—neither man or woman, but the force of creation. Anyway, what else is happening Oh. All of the celebrities are stuck in— [the festival project] in some way, shape, or form until its creator finishes it—and though it in itself is infinite, its 'finishing' notates its eventual production, which lol. That never going to happen. Because. Let's face it. I'm scared of …rich people. Yeah, sure. Yeah. I'm scared of The effect of the race war, which has been to pit the white woman against the black woman, which allows and maintains the continuation of war mongering male dominance over the entire planet, which remains as a destructive force of greed, racism, and inequality. So why try? [EDITS] CONAN O'BRIEN Alright. If she hit Fallon, she's gonna come for one of us next. No, Conan—that's not how this works. WHAT—where did you come from!? When did you get here? JAY LENO This goes deeper than all of you can understand. WHAT the FUCK, man! When did you-/ —when did he get here? How did you do that?! How did you do that?! What are you, like, the same guy? Are you not all the same guy? [they shrug simultaneously and kind of just agree] Listen at this. Okay then. The enemy of your friend is my enemy. Oh…kay—and the enemy of my enemy—is my friend— That is correct. —so we're all friends here. That's right. Some special forces? Which forces? How special? [JENNIFER LOPEZ is still JENNY FROM THE BLOCK] Do I look like a fool to you? Uh— OOPS [a pre-fame Jennifer Lopez receives a drop full of diamonds instead of the usual; she has been granted access into the Illuminati, and becomes an overnight success.] This feels heavier than usual. Same as always. Hm. Are you sure. Yep. Hey, you're not the regular guy. Regular guy died. That makes sense. JENNIFER ANNISTON is inside of Ū Okay, grosss Not like that [lifting max weight] Okay. That was cool. Wow. Yeah, sure whatever. I am strong Yeah yeah, okay. Are you sure you want to be my size? Yep. JIMMY FALLON/SKRILLEX (we don't know actually which at this point) is also trapped inside of Ū Okay, gross! Yeah. SKRILLEX is in all of Ū. okay—actually, i'm okay with that, but That other guy?! [JIMMY FALLON] Yeah, he's weird. Also meanwhile, kind of— MARSHALL MATHERS has a closet cleaning service lol. Patrick is smooth as a motherfucker, you know. Every time his head is down on the desk like that, he takes a bump of coke. What?! Big uh! [Patrick takes bumps of cocaine in front of a live studio audience—every single night.] Woah! See. Goddamn. You gotta admire a guy like that. Jennifer Anniston is the weight on the cable tension machine Ooh. Psycho bitch devious methods new ludachris commercial All ya'll girls is toddlers I like long boards and longhairs Lawn mowers and lawn shares Aw hell nah, God forgot Cher I got the Blair witch project On Blair, I hope I scare you How dare you. Your girl looks like a naked mole rat. I got my soul back. You blue eyed bastards stole everything From the whole blacks, Hold that thought I'm at Whole Foods market throw in the Amazon algorithm off With marked dollars Look at God at Walmart On them rollbacks You old hacks are cackling I'm shackled to old habits Hold hands with me, rabbit I'm just a silly rapper really, are you? Maybe. Cut the verse of Reverse God Now I'm the devil I'm still lost in the Amazon cart I sharted all up in your pop tarts Before you warmed them up, pops Just for the sake of the art, Heart to heart, It's a war on love And the white girls won with nothin but Buckets of Whatever's up there I wouldn't know Cause I'm stuck job searching And running, Trying not to have a tummy So some gummy worm will love me First their sour, then they're sweet Then nobody, Trolli Holy moly I could use some more petroleum in the ocean! Said nobody But the globalists are performing your programming Which you're worshiping I put my eye on the dollar So I could watch you all Crumble and fall Don't you know The apocalypse is happening at the mall Of all the places How's that for a stream of consciousness, You salamander I asked Anandar back But I went past that chapter Have a chap Or a chapstick, for four times four dollars A bottle of water will cost you a fortune (But at least the drugs are in it) Get it It's recycled piss Distilled? Which is it, Mr,? The mystery box was literally lifted into My dinner from a fishery filled with nothing but niggers in it— I want a refund, before I catch that Fucking curse of poverty from — what'd you call it salmonellahallibut One hell of a cough from someone on the sidewalk But guess what? The devil's in your pocket or your palm, And that's the omen and the psalm rolled into one Cause God is awesome, But my mom is fuckin toxic And that's how I fuckin got here Blow my head off, Slit my wrists And write a song While jumping off a bit When all you need is money, But the world costs more than It's worth, and words are nothing But another fucking problem in your Google documents I look at my son and see a God, But half of Satan's in him, Oh man Robotics Lets be honest, I don't even know how to write this. Where's my sides?! WHERE'S MY SIDES. You don't get SIDES with this; It's just CHICKEN. I don't eat CHICKEN. It appears as though, however– You do. Ok, I gotta get off this playlist. I… i gotta . “The Wal*Mart Wars” Hm. … …………. …. *face* … no. No. l– What is this place. {After a wild night which apparently spiraled out of control, great , there goes my peace. Not forever, though, maybe. FUCK THIS PLACE. I HATE THIS PLACE. Everybody hates this place. But the album is called “I love New York” Yes, thats Technically How it's pronounced, though It's stylized like I _ NY Cause. EXT. MIDTOWN MANHATTAN. DAY Oh, wow, this is beautiful. THis is great. I love this place FUCK THE FEDS. CUT TO: EXT.Typically WHEREVER ELSE Anywhere ‘above' like 87th? Lets just call it 80th, be safe. BE SAFE! NIGGAZ. ah shit, i gotta go. BITCH– But lets just be honest, It's technically ‘above' But it's really [THE BRONX is a literal extension of the Underworld] Oh no. srsly tho. X_c Anyway. FUck man, Do you think i'll ever get good like that. Idk what equipment is this Hmm, lets see, that's approximately $8,000 USD of CDJs wow yep That's retarded Yep. And you still need a mixer. fukt. OKay, I would literally sell my soul for this. Consider it done. wait , really? YES. you earned it. Wait, I– What?! You earned it… Uh oh. Take care now. Shit. [BILLIE ELLISH is trapped inside WALMART] Uh oh. Fuck. what is this place. INT. WALMART. WHENEVER EMPLOYEESLAVES WHAT TIME IS IT. THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE. That's not funny IT'S literally a synonym, we might as well make it a portemantau MEanwhile, in this other dimension, So that i don't offend anybody… Actually, you know what? Be offended. Quit that stupid fuckin shit and follow your dreams! Wait really? Wait, really? Sure! If you want! …i guess. AMERICA NO. INSTANT HOMELESSNESS ok , nvm. Damn. I know, right. wtf r u guys watching. Shut up. All Wal*Mart Employees are actually top secret government agents. x ∞ >.< (we'll just use Billie Ellish as the alternate, but really it could be Could it really? Shut UP, PLURNICORN. Wtf is a PLURNICORN We'll see. [Upon Realizing s/he is trapped in a mysterious place apparently extremely public Wait, you've never been to a Wal*Mart Before?! NO. I grew up in LA Rich as fuck And i've been famous since I was liike 12, Or something. Right. That is–kind of terrifying. LATER: WHY IS IT SNOWING INSIDE. WHERE'S THE EXIT. THEY HAVE GUNS?! oh wow, they have GUNS. WHY DO WE NEED GUNS! KA-BLAM. BECAUSE THEY HAVE GUNS. Bang-bang! Ptttttttttt—sttt. And they have guns. Actually, these are just– confetti cannons. *pop!* Lol “Possibly The Worst Show Ever the infinite rave continues on in Hell as everyone awaits the return of SŪPACREE- The Cosmic Avenger (Who Is NOT a DJ) and Sunnï Blū (who is a superstar rapper but also not a DJ) go back to back, buying time as the beacon to. Signal "The Supacree" is completed, battling the 10th dimensional DJ Ū, a super ninjas, for control of the decks. what else happened? idk. I CANT STOP DANCING. none of the DJs can find a pair of working headphones, and the sound guy is missing from the booth. "missing" YOU SHOT HIM. I THOUGHT IT WAS A TRANQ DART. {Enter The Multiverse} “TVP” Hazel is 6, turns 7 season 1 Season 7- 15 Man, I can't remember the other two kids names, I think the little boy is Ira but I might have named them all and forgotten, shit. Her sister, though is between 4 ½ and 5, they are technically “Irish twins”, and always fighting—they look very similar, however are not at all alike; Hazel is very much a daddy's girl, while her younger sister is a no-nonsense old soul with the tendency to cause trouble, not by being inquisitive or showy, as her sister often is, but rather by being quietly observant, and tends to dismiss both her parents, often isolating, or even dissappearing without notice, quietly and comfortably into her own world—as the series progresses, and though all of Patrick's children like their parents have showcased some kind of special ability or talent— Holy shit, give this kid a name-/ I thought I already named her, I just don't remember. That's true. It seems like they all had names. She is almost very typically, though showing signs of genius, even at the early age at the beginning of the series, a middle child, prone to upset almost too easily, but rather than acting out, is more likely to take her anger quietly; she shares her fathers deep brown eyes, dark hair, and though she looks otherwise very much like her sister, and later despises her father, is more inwardly and outwardly like him, though taking the side of her mother during their separation and divorce, oftentimes even lashing out at her father quite openly, and very vocally, as she grows into herself. “Ira”, (may have had another name earlier) is the youngest of three— as his third birthday approaches sometime during the first season. Great, now I gotta hide all those allegories so nobody can actually draw from this that Patrick— Where's his write up, anyway? That shit could go on for days. I have no idea why this catharsis is happening. I tried to sleep it off, I swear, but I still woke up like— At least mildly obsessive about this, for whatever reason. Hazel's 7 - Season Arc Hazel has the eyes, charm, and charisma for entertainment —she hopes to one day be as her father, an entertainer and performer, and will do almost anything for a laugh. She is often telling jokes, and is a people- pleaser. She is sickeningly cute, with golden hair and Hazel eyes, long eye lashes, and carries baby fat in her face, though she is rather average, neither heavy or plump, and however also not frail at all. She is inquisitive, smart, and busy, almost never idle-minded, and strong. Though sort of a Tom boy, she has been trained well to act with dignity, class, and feminine eloquence, much like her mother—but like her father, has a tendency to be crass, sometimes carelessly so, or even brutally honest—to her mother's disdain, but embraced wholesomely by other family members and adults, she's extremely funny and delightful, and very much unlike her mother, not a spoiled brat at all, often raising questions beyond her years about inequality, later wishing to attend a public school, and becoming quite the advocate for social justice and human rights in her later years, her final season shows a rebellious and sometimes even antagonistic Hazel, who later even favors Esha over her own mother as a parental figure, often confiding in her about things she can't and shouldn't share with her father, although her almost over the top admiration for her father has become the driving force and inspiration for her own endeavors in show business, much to her father's disdain, as she grows older, him becoming more protective of her, and especially within the oftentimes secretive nature of his actual placement and purpose in the business, and her rebellious nature and charm even force-feeding her into the industry, she is a bleeding heart for superstardom, and is often seen along what may be a path to fame, making Patrick's bleeding heart all the more aching, as though he and Catherine remain at odds throughout the series, he truly loves his children, even “the little sick one”, as he refers to the second child. Holy shit, what is this kid's name If I had the energy to go through my notes, I could know; but I don't. The city sickness has been sinking in from the noise of the obnoxious motorists and honestly, being out of protein is giving me muscle soreness, I'm in some sort of a bloated haze from eating almost nothing but carbs, and the fact that I haven't been with anyone in years is starting to circle like buzzards around my head, my heart has been literally screaming but overwhelming with this sense of calm, and though slipping into Patrick's sometimes erratic tendencies, for the most part I've been underwhelmed with society's expectations that I should get some kind of job, and somehow while working not lose focus on my own interests and projects—I hate [the strange modern behaviors of] most people, and everything costs too much money— my son might be going into foster care, or my ex husband is evil enough just to try to force my energy to worry about a problem he's created, and I really wanted to sleep into the afternoon with this lethargy, hoping that everything surrounding this series would just fall off, but it doesn't. I wake up often wishing I could just forget The Festival Project ™ , but the truth is, it just keeps writing itself, but in the very least, sometimes God gives me little presents that mean the very most to me— a chord organ that I thought was from the 80's, but is more likely from the 1960's— I love vintage stuff, and musical instruments, which only God could know, really—my fascination with history as if I'm still living it, and this, my sudden fascination and drive to write and complete just one series has been haunting me almost just as badly as anything else has, but especially ripping me apart—especially since I have motorcyclists ripping through my body as if it were some kind of disease that existed outside of me, so contagious that it began to sink in to my insanity and mental hygiene. I wondered if anybody else knew or cared about these creatures as much as I didn't—and in fact, I had never felt so much like Ali in the way that I didn't care if they, other “human beings” supposedly, all died tragically, and wondered why the walls and windows didn't keep out the sound of the outside world at all… The middle child begins writing secretly very early on, and is the first to be required more extensive therapy, (as suggested by the family's therapist) after her parent's separation and subsequent divorce. It is not long after she begins learning to read and write at all, that she begins also showing interests in art, asking for art lessons and to begin painting and art therapy, rather than the recommended Equine therapy— she often keeps things to herself, then returning to her hidden places at times when the family's dysfunction becomes uncomfortable and overstimulating, very often paining or reading during times of peace, and retreating to her safe places—sometimes under the stairs, into the attic, the treehouse, or even later, the family's barnyard, where she often keeps drawings, as she ages, later comics, sometimes caricatures of the things she absorbs through her own reality—and diaries, sometimes hidden in nooks and crannies and in places no one would think; a true prodigy and genius, though hidden from much the world, as she is often overlooked, however, her therapist begins unfolding her true reality, often times carrying over sessions and losing track of time, picking her brain or even conversations philosophically What's the therapists name? Doctor Robin She has to have a last name Well, she's a child's therapist, so she's Doctor Robin, but It seems like it starts with a T. We'll see. I just saw her anyway. I drifted off again, thinking about how wildly detailed this all was becoming, and wondered if there was a series of fictional books waiting to be written. There certainly could be, but my mind was reeling, freshly showered but still undressed, and not even wanting to think of going outside—and yet—I was out of water, and had learned that the drinking water from the fountains, especially in large quantities, had a tendency to make me sick—I hadn't yet eaten anything, and though the coffee was fresh, and my apartment was clean (which made me overtly overjoyed for some reason) smelling of Lemon Lysol and Bleach; with notes of a strong pot of organic fresh ground coffee, it seemed like I couldn't do much more than lay in bed writing this catastrophically interesting series—and it was interesting, which said volumes, considering I had always been picky about my TV watching, being that only ever did certain series catch my eyes or my ears, and those series were almost always—or always, always specifically well written, perfectly casted, and had the edge and draw of becoming an entire world within itself, which this series, though only a week or two old at best, in my heart and in my mind , was rampantly ravaging my own world, almost as if it had become of some importance to keep writing it, and never stop, and though Patrick was the forefigure, another broken male protagonist, the truth in the series was that the true heroes of this sometimes scarily violent drama, were its women—a story meant to be told with a diversified cast of creatures from all worlds and walks of life—Esha, of course, herself, a role that had been some recreation of myself, somehow, though so different that even primarily, I never did see myself as her, besides the onslaught of some otherworldly pain, visions of a scene recollected from some remarkable download, and it might have been once and for all that I had lost my mind, or my life, if I wasn't a writer—I was, somehow, though, after all, a writer. It had been a fasting day that could have and might have ended tragically anyway, and still the devil marked his mockery of my efforts by consistently flinging perfect bodied women everywhere that I went—though usually with ugly enough faces that I could see nothing but what a man was—uncaring for one thing over the other, a flawless representation of woman, represented in the current time with scantily clad fashion, almost painfully so—the insecurity of women becoming more apparent in the way she would appear, always almost begging to be near to me, with every perfection and complexion I hadn't—but at least I had a tendency to laugh at my own damage, often surmising that she, these demon creatures, hadn't any talent for this at all—which had turned the state of television into a near circus act; that alone urged me to continue writing the series, perhaps with a typewriter, due to the negligence of nepotism within the industry which often resulted in these pretty little creatures getting even further ahead by stealing works as such, and passing them on as their own originality almost so cruelly and without judgement—plagiarism, as it was called, but more accurately intent-to-kill the imminent threat of what had been said to be a minority becoming a more powerful force to flourish in entertainment however, as quickly as the visions had come, the thought of writing it without my phone became dauntingly impractical, and I scribbled only the most intense scenes and plot lines onto notebooks and scratch papers, keeping them as hidden from the algorithm as possible… lol the Al Gore Rhythm Ahahahahahahaha Was that the joke? Maybe. Idk. Maybe. Idk. Hm. Hmmmmm: What: Nothing. That actually might have been it. Really, was it? I will never know. That is kind of a good dad joke, though. And a good band name. Idk about that. My coffee was lukewarm enough so that I could taste its flavor, as I whittled away at whatever it was— The story was almost so beautifully being told in allegories and parables that it seemed a shame I may never be rich enough to buy fame, as it seemed that was the only way to become a star these days— and yet—it was more the wealth than the fame I wanted, I had realized, at all—the polished class of the Manhattanites drawing me out of Brooklyn and into some debauchery which was my own Grandiose thought form, that I could actually become, at the ripe old age of 31, some kind of superstar. ‘Why would I even want that, anyway?' I thought, interrupted painfully by who I'm sure was the same motorist, who seemed to do nothing but circle the block all day, and all night, doing nothing — and I wondered why he himself had decided not to do grub hub in a richer neighborhood, where money would more than likely come more easily. But really— I drifted off to a time where I wanted to ride a motorcycle myself, and the curiosity forced me to go online to check the price of what it might cost to have one. $5,000 for a decent bike, which would include a muffler as not to be so obnoxious and disturbing to others as these creatures had become to me— and I began doing the math on how long it would take to save $5,000 as if it would be possible to work some dead end job for any amount of time without spending money on anything else. It would take at least 5 months to earn enough for a motorcycle, which landed me directly back at “Not worth it”, and as horrible as it was, I did at the very least have a luxury apartment for at minimum the next 5 years, however, wanting still to move to Manhattan, Midtown specifically—or one of the quaint and quiet neighborhoods on the upper West Side. The neighborhood was going to hell, after some unworldly godless force had seemed to drop hundreds of thousands of rude and thoughtless third world workers onto the streets and buildings bordering the one I lived on, the neighborhood becoming more rough and less peaceful with trash and debris from the depression and congenital disease that was poverty, the collective unconsciousness of the masses colliding with my empathetic nature and oversensitivity to sound, especially awful sounds, such as the hundreds of motorcycles and hot rodded junk cars which only seeemed to move in a track around a four block radius, and had become a cancerous trigger of sorts, no authority figure seemed to much care about. I cared less and less each day to listen to music, since I wasn't making it the way I wanted to—and I had realized that the constant displeasure and unrest, the lack of peace had as much to do with the world outside as it did with the world within—and I began to see the disgusting obnoxious noise pollution outside my window as just an extension of man's abuse, ability to rape, torture, and kill, terrorize— the uncaring waging of war, control, and lack of true power; as no good and true man who wielded actual strengeth or true power in any way would continue to show such distructive action and carelessness for others around him— chaos, corruption, abuse, and misogyny was proving to be the downfall of all humankind, as patronaged by man, and, as I became doubtful of anyone's lack of understanding of this, especially as the immigrants themselves were often naturally pedophillic culturally and toxically abusive in nature, most migrants flocking from countries in which women's liberation or the protection of youth had not yet materialized into their understanding of conciousness and morality—the men were weak, unkind, and selfish—the women mere machines at their disposal—and however many there were, I could see that their children, the many of them, remained as the redeeming factor. Anyway, a political ploy for the ages of there ever was such a thing, the newest chapter in American greed and slavery, it only seemed like an extension of evil itself, and less of a coincidence with each growing day—each new person, another burden to the middle class taxpayer, another reason to inflate the cost of living—and all the more reason to continue to terrorize the American people into its own division, hatred, demise, and consumption. e. My faith, however, was unwavering—God was real, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's —ahem— “Ron Sennet, and I ain't In it.” —did the say “don't” write a book about me? It's Not about him… Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear, but these abusive and toxic creatures were pushing it further away with violent arrogance, and the inability to understand that God itself was the nature they continued to destroy. Robin Bennett Fine. “My name's Jon Sennet, and I ain't In it.” Or something cute he used to say like that, I couldn't remember, but he had a bunch of cute little idioms that matched his name, and to the day, I still missed him — it was 11:15 PM exactly as I hung up the phone, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach 911, after realizing that the threat outside was maddening enough to be impossible to only be in my head, and after weeks of the excruciating noise, I finally called NYPD dispatch, much to my disdain, and of course magically, the noise seemed to disappear as soon as I had made the call, which infuriated me. It seemed as though the game in entirety to make me look or feel crazy, though I knew I wasn't—well, I was, but not without purpose or reason. I had been theorizing in energy exchange quite decisively making a mark for my alter, at which I asked to be designated the wisdom and truth of the light within the eye, desire, however never in mind, although I had been summoned in part due to the fact that wenwere somehow alike—I was in some ways besides and out of sorts with my set, sinking my teeth into the forced obsession as I unraveled any possibilities and plotline. Episode 01. Pilot An opportunity presents itself seemingly at random— the protagonist's hand is forced into a life changing ultimatum, putting his reuputation and family in danger. Already involved in an illegal gambling ring which operates out of a secret historical prohibition era speakeasy and some “light” drug mulling within its walls, however often extending even as dangerously close to his workplace, Patrick is propositioned to become an investor in the high end escort service, with which he hired and contracted his lover, Kandi, a “rescue” whom he supports in her exchange for exclusivity, to remain as her only client, however, although he begrudgingly declines, wishing not to be involved in anything much more than what he has already kept under the radar, he is intimidated and threatened by blackmail, his high profile becoming at stake—he then obliges to embark upon this new endeavor, the expansion of this establishment to include a warehouse, which houses a large scale brothel, and, able to use his social status to procure wealthy clientele, quickly becomes a power player within a ring of coveted elites, setting fire to his already inflated ego, and colliding with his intense and highly functional polyaddiction, which he has maintained since his youth, using his entertainment persona as an outlet, becoming a medium of excess, fame, and rampant wealth. Patrick is beloved by his peers, and is humbled often by his devoted fans and friends—proactively worshipped as a comic genius, a prodigy, and a revered successor to legendary frontmen— Okay, this is weird, because I started writing this before I even understood what I was writing at all… —specifically, the sixth successor, to his coveted role. I had written for Esha to be the seventh successor, as with the symbolism deeply and quite literally woven into the sometimes brutal framework of the series, which I had shorthanded to ‘TVP'…the world around me trailed off as my eyes blurred as they had been lately, and I wondered if I might be having some kind of stroke or something, as I was certainly some sort of out of body—the day had been strange, and I had given up on a run or a gym for the day, the motorcycles alone ravaging my energy, and whether I worked out or not, they were everpresent anyway. They were some sort of toxic, abusive force I just had to put up with, hoping it didn't upset my psychology so much that it ended me, though I had become quite odd as of recently, rambling more than usual and actually praying out loud, as my silent ones just didn't seem to be working—they were probably white supremacists, or in some way connected to some political terror group, but it didn't seem to matter. Someone liked torturing me, and it was becoming apparent that no matter much time I spent at the gym, this torture was going to persist. After a month long gym streak, at least going once a day to lift something, I rested, or rather, tried to rest, kind of— but my mind had been swirling with thoughts of a man I was certain by now I had made up—and writing the story of a man I was absolutely certain came from my mind, but in a way that it almost made no sense at all—as the more I looked into the world that I had already written about, the more I realized was accurate without first having known these things, and however cursed I might have been to even know such things, I decided to call it some sort of blessing instead. ‘God, I used to get so fucking high for days, and when I would come down, just crying and crying, eating Totinos or DiJorno and a bag of Bugles, I would watch Saturday Night Live for fucking hours, and I hated [Redacted]. I hated him.' Now I still hated [Redacted], but in a different way, and though really it was myself that was more like Patrick, he at the very least, for whatever reason, used to have his face—now, he was just Patrick, and [Redacted] was just [Redacted], and i knew entirely too much about it all, and about myself to be comfortable with it, but nothing was comfortable at all. I had written entire atrocities, novels, and all that was some conglomerate of nonsense which was the festival project, besides how insanely and innately prodigal it all was sometimes, my own words confusing me with a bizzare and asenine dysfunction, awe, actually, often as if someone else had written them, and although I was always at least sort of semi-concious while writing, the spells and cadences I would fall under were some sort of trance, and as I watched the Nirvana rehearsal from Saturday Night Live in 1992, long before [Redacted] or any of the rest of the — Was it Keystone? It was, the Keystone cast of SNL, but the first word my mind had jumped to was Hallmark, which—after referencing Google quickly for a fact check, also stood true. I was willing to admit, even now, though I had long lost interest in Saturday Nighy Live, or anything at all having to do with current events, that the [Redacted] era—or rather even, the Tina Fey era, a true role model, perhaps, and someone I favored over all of the performers I admired, or allowed myself to admire— the Golden Years of Saturday Night were the only years, for me that even mattered— trying to make sense of anything couldn't be done, but I at least had this new project birthed from it to think about. It would be hard to sit down at a taping of The View and not think about all I had written at all, and it would be impossible not to unfold the characters which had presented themselves, though slowly but surely, through the most vivid visions and insanely lucid dreams, as The TV People began to What if someone steals this out of my documents? That would be unwise…the best scenes are somewhere scribbled in my notebooks and random scraps of paper somewhere in my room…this series is almost nothing without those scenes—the elements with which the most painful scenes I had ever written, became word form. ‘I don't know why, but I feel so incredibly high, So incredibly high right now…' They could have been words to a song, but I did feel high as a kite for whatever reason, without the actual kite metaphor quite literally dagling over my head, for once, or at least, it had been a few weeks, not a prominent as is was before. I sat soaking in the tub teetering on the possibility that I should actually even watch The Tonight Show, or whatever it was, to set my mind at ease, a betrayal of my own code—as one does not literally feed its obsessions into insanity on purpose. ‘Perhaps, though', I thought, ‘I could get rid of this.' — A cancerous abscess in the tradegy that had become my own sex fueled, rage driven, racing mind—and rather admittedly, it was almost too late, for anything of the sort, as I hadn't any other place to keep the growing world of The Television People any quieter, than within the monstrous algorithm which was Google documents cloud, where it seemed nothing was safe, and anything could be fabricated into reality after being stolen, by someone rich enough to make it happen, however, never being any better than my own disaster of a creation. And it was, a disaster. He was a comic genius, a professional, and spectacular performer— in actuality, I knew nothing if not anything at all about him, and the more I collected, the more interesting I found myself, actually, bemused that I seem to have found some sort of twin, another synchronizatic nightmare—if only that I made it to be so, unbelieving yet that I was in some kind of fairytale, though it had become some sort of fantastical and adventurous thing, this what I now refer to as ‘the allegories,'. I must have been something parasitic to the industry, with the tendency to latch on and ride out whatever had become a faciniation, but it wasn't, in its sense of origin, like anything before— it was something new, in the ways that it was, and something old at the same time—though needing to fall drastically from The Tower without actually doing so, putting a stop to my unlimited creation became a pertinent priority, as even exercising, meditating, and chronic masturbation tended to exacerbate it, as if I was missing a step in transmutation of this foreign substance— an energy which seemed familiar, but also wasn't. I was receiving downloads several hours at a time, and drifting off into spells and trances of inspiration so heavily that it seemed counterintuitive to call it off, fearing I might lose the intensity of the plot and its characters, and they were that: just characters. It had taken days to erase Patrick's face into a blank state to restore him from that of his namesake, but now everything was a blur, the allure of scrapping it all to return to making music was upon some sort of dawning, but not yet arrived. I allowed whatever came to mind to flow freely from my fingertips, even if it felt bizzare—and even if it felt bizarre, it never felt wrong at all. ‘Unfortunate, that.' , I thought crossing one leg over another to complete my chapter before draining the tub. I promised myself long ago to always pray for my own son, before worrying about another celebrity, whose fame and fortune protected them more than I ever seemed to protect myself or my own—nonsense, but a strong sense of remorse, as I had been painted as wicked, in a sense, just for being kept poor, separated from my son, and left in a world without love at all; My project, a keepsake of the hard work I had done; but had not yet been paid for—and the fear was in the understanding that that money might not ever come, that I would never be a mother, a muse, or anything or anyone else I actually wanted. I thought briefly again about just getting a dog—but I only had 45 dollars, aside from the unmarked Jimmy Fallons, I had placed atop an alter on my kitchen counter, wondering how to multiply them into something I wanted—and that had been the start of the game or the project at all— saving my last dollars and spending them at once, with the hopes and wishes that they would become somehow much larger quantities, returned as good karma for the love I had given, but that had not yet come back, in one form or another. ‘He seems miserable, the poor bloak.' , I thought—and with all that I had known to have come with fame and fortune along with the luck, he probably somewhere, somehow was—but my concern was my son, turning the mere dollars somehow from one's into bundles of hundreds, thousands, and maybe even one day a whole million or more. That was the push behind the project at all—breaking the cycle of the poor black single mother, the story that had been told over and over-/ with stories that had not; the stories that had become [The Festival Project™]# Sai Psy. See you in seven years, then. You're so silly— I'm not going to live seven more years. We'll see about that. You will see. I'll be dead. So I'll be dead. So it is. A summer hiatus, Vacations in Prague, yes Let's pray for the rest of us A sign of the times and a coming of ages Who made you famous again As the rest of us I don't like it As much as I'd like to Keep writing Keep finding the reason to die and you're blinded by kindnesses And I ams I woke up in the 9th dimension, As an infinite friend Familiar with my kitchen JOHN SLATTERY An interesting thing happened this morning. What's that, John? I woke up as John Slattery Just remember what love holds The death of a salesman, rechargeable batteries This walk could take forever in designer jeans Another day in slave hell The controllers controlling And Satan is Sataning Seems like a time to go clubbing It's a simple kind of depression Resting on your head when All you simply wished is the taste of flesh The freedom of skin And the lather of love— Or blood spatter on the pavement Aim for the head If the door's fixed, then we'll break it again Look what greed does I hate lazy days in Manhattan Cause I've never had one What happened on the way to the forum I was starstruck; Five finger death punch Right in the heart I wish I was punctual Right on time for lunch Don't you want to talk to someone more pungent? Don't you got models to robot? Don't you know I never want to hurt you But you know, I'm going to hurt you. You know I'm going to hurt you Now, the review: Sooner or later, I fall over your world Good dudes in drags Good food for thought I'm a dog With the wrong parts You should take Kanye to the mall With a migrants lanyard (The migrants are anarchists! Good one, God) This one goes to. | this one first, from— Which one are you ? I guess we are one in the same It's a famous radio tower Live up to your name Go sell your flower for flour As I stand at the jumping point Eye on Manhattan, The wind beneath my wings Distracting myself from the mansion I haven't The mason jars I ought to buy for bargain The brain and brain cereal I left at the market I used to love Brandy Now I just wish I was something, awesome Now I just wish I was something, awesome Now I just wish I was something, awesome “The Album I Wrote On My Way To The Rock To Return Amazon Purchases No Longer Wanted” That's a really long album title. I didn't imagine I'd write this much Just trying not to imagine this man in his under pants, Or what have you (I'm just a fan) I'm just a dad hunched over in the bathroom Must have been the magic of my backhand, backfired Must have come untied and undone, under the rainbow Must be on my way to Manhattan For some blacklist event. Where I'm from The A List Is a face No name needed “Oh, I know who you are” If I purchased a car today I might get done paying it off By my 81st birthday. Shady. If I had a penny for every mistake I made, I would probably be Nameless. If there was a namesake to lay me into my grave, it would make sense; Yes, let's move the train for a moment With the doors still open. — I'd like to watch what happens. So what happens when the sun comes up On the only body you've ever known And no one wants it What happens with a dude named Starr Punches you over and over again And then no one loves you (That's starstruck, your honor) What happens when granted a pardon for passions And everything happens after is magic What happens when all you want is to go manic To finish the album And just feel good again What happens when the algorithm has Al Gore in it? What happens when the rhythm in blues is just the attraction of random black men and their concubine counterparts? Huh, what happens! What happens, Kanye? What happens, The God? What happens when all that you want is a disgusting assumption of… No on can trust you And nobody loves you Since it was simply a tryst Put this at a distance. Where did my energy disappear to! Where in the fear is my other earring? Fuck. Be somewhere, anywhere else but your office, for the moment. Be anyone but a mother, Anywhere but your apartment— It hurts, the construction. Someone doesn't something Nobody knows nothing about me, But what I put in this casket (This podcast) Oh hey, I got fuck muscles from fuckin myself now! I feel like I'm gonna die if I don't have sex! For real! Heal, Oh great dragon, HEAL, BITCH. Word. woof for the world Will for the wolf; Rain on the roof. Cobain don't have a God (Or a Gun, if you wanted that one) “Pull me up, God, I'm done under here” He called in I followed the fosters to farrow And got better I got better and bitter much quicker and Never in bed had I been as flexible As to kiss his chest As I kicked my own neck With my left foot. What the fucking fairyshit is that? There, I fixed it. Fixed what. I don't know what. But I fixed it. I know, huh! So be 110 and flexible Powerlift tectonic plates Do Pilates And make waffles!? Alright, I can do that But only as Jennifer Aniston I'd like to take back that Fallon I bought at the black market He's broken. I like his band tho— The one on the left hand, Over the damaged one. Are you on to that? Says the sayer, Son of Sam So Sai the sage Sets the stage Is that the plan? Never fall for a man, Even over an alter And tied by the hands. All I see in my initials initially is B Minor 16 might be minors, guys But she's creaming to find you At the front lines Life of a superstar DJ At the cross roads Or the turnstiles How do you turn bile into Beguiling Without rifling a few feathers Or looking into the eye of the rifle And dying first Don't you let that tear fall from you onto the M Train. I'm just training for fame And hating you every day Since we made it Love Get out of my way, Satan I'm staying I'm saying your name sake insanely Please break me Like a chicken leg Or just shake me from this existence Since I don't seem fit for it Anymore than I fit that Givchechy dress you gave that blonde, right? Am I dying! Or just dying inside Fuck coughs If you want him enough to—Use black magic To do that to me, wait till it falls back on you, You gross hag If God hates fags as much as he hates blacks We should fly flags over the haggis I made Alice When she's back from her adventures in wonderland No wonder you're a Monro Crossed over from O'Fallons It's an old warfare with two clans From the old countries With no borders Or border collies Laboradores And labirites, likely As Aphrodite is to smite me So here comes DJ Francis With his new black girlfriend Just kidding We all know in his world It's cold and broken With nothing but blue eyes And big wild to look over you Bro, standing up is not going to make this train go anywhere. I almost promise you. Turns out there's no such thing as a quick trip to The Rock. Turns out you'll sit stuck in y

David chats with Thomas Gilbert, the illustrator of the new edition of Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, released to celebrate the book's 60th anniversary. Although this is the first book Thomas has illustrated, you will likely be familiar with his work in other fields. He is not only a highly accomplished artist who turned to making Bond posters at the start of the Covid lockdowns (Instagram @gilbert_posters) but he also designs cars for a living! Fleming originally commissioned his automotive engineer friend Amherst Villiers (namechecked in the early Bond books) to draw Chitty but his rendering was never used. So this edition marks the first time an actual car designer has illustrated the book! Thomas's dynamic artwork perfectly complements Fleming's vivacious prose and brings us a Chitty quite unlike anything we've had before. Here, he takes us behind the scenes, explaining his process from start to finish, showing us how he decided what to illustrate and how he did it. We get to see the early work Thomas did for the book, months before it became the finished article. Along the way, Thomas and David discuss the various influences on the book's art, which include film noir, a classic 80s movie and a Fleming Bond novel - Thomas's favourite Bond novel in fact. Thomas and David also talk about where their creative sparks come from and why it's a good idea to say 'Yes!' to adventures which take you out of your comfort zone! Following Thomas on Instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/gilbert_posters/

I gotta find that pilot I wrote for— MAYA RUDOLPH FOUND IT. Oh, My God Is it Esha in this scene? I can't remember if it's Esha or the nanny. Did he not fuck the therapist? I mean, that's later. Is it? I guess. Continuity. Whatever. . JIMMY FALLON, YOU PATHETIC, BLASPHEMOUS BASTARD. SAY MY NAME ONE MORE TIME. GO AHEAD. do it. You can't say shit to me. Almost nothing. I was almost asleep. Fuck it up, Jimmy. You know, you could get like, Straight A's this semester if you just Listen to me. Focus. Fuck this. FUCK THIS. OK, FUCK THIS MACHINE. He puts a quarter in, Turns the corner at around four o clock. Takes metformin for supper. Supplements, supplements. Nothin. Oh, you wanted this to happen. I purchased this collection of poetry off the black market. For what. It's a machine, JImmy. JIMENY CRIKET Christ almighty Wait. Wait a second, Go back. To which part. TO this day “she's polite” I know this, she'll find me in here somewhere. I know this. Just let it go. No, she'll find us. You're living a lie. This is why you're behind in this race. Well, it's a race war, isn't it? You started this? Look what I did. I bought you christmas presents. I'm pretty sure i'm not even allowed to celebrate it. HEATHENS. Correct this behavior. See the reasons behind them, first, before you cast judgements. Set the trap, she'll fall for this. She needs these things. All this stuff was stolen. You think. You think too much. You think too little of this organization. Because, Jimmy, i'm above it You know, this could be the reason you lose at this. I don't care anymore if I lose at this, As long as somebody wins. This is it, Jim. I guess so. Let her rip. Let him have it. FIGHT. How's this gonna work, if I fight to WIn. It's a fight to the DEATH? This is a fight to the DEATH. …Johnny Depp is here. Let him in. How many is that? At least 10. What did she give to you, for this? SIR JYRE Medicine. Tina Fey Amy Peohler or however you spell it Maya Rudolph Ratchel Dratch Kristen Wiig Kristen Shaal Melissa Mccarthy - might be the only non-SNL member The Cosmic Avenger Damn. That dude lost his whole name. He lost everything. So Wait, that's Eight. Yep. Who are the other two? Gimmie the pop tart movie Fir what. To laugh. I want to laugh. YEE hehe I ANT Weird shirtless overall pictures—- wtf is THIS. MAYA Ok, check this out. God, this is hideous. I think we might be related. Alright guys, I found it! Yes! Finally! The problem is— When I got there *sniffs* FALLON. —Fallon had already been there. Ah,Christ. How does he do that? By the power of CHRIST, I compel you!!! Oh shit, he is good at this. Uh, I gotta get going. Look, I'm gonna need some time. Alright. Just tell me, you'll consider this. Ok—my son. And please— Your secret is safe with me. God. Hm. We need your help. I'm “the help” “Father Knows Best” You know you're going to Hell for this. I do come home sometimes. Great, she missed it. Oh shit. Yep. And you're gonna— I'm gonna do whatever the fuck I want, with whoever the fuck I want. Why is there still deadmau5 in this— What's this. Pudding No, this is This is a really long episode of whatever it is, shutthefuck Uh oh. You know, we can't do this. There is absolutely nothing you cannot do. Absolutely nothing. Ok. You guys are all in here— —Somewhere. Yay! Yes! Elevatorsz! Except you. What. Stay out. WHAT. Actually, you know what? What? Move. He switched me seats. Uh… Okay—now get the fuck out. FUCK. Meanwhile: Bad news dude. Aww. What's up. Your dick still sucks. WHAT. Sorry, bros. I tried. So did I! It was bad. Maybe worse than before. HOWS THATS POSSIBLE. I dunno, but—damn. Damn! BEFORE: lil dicky got rich and famous— Now all the girls lie to him And tell him that his dick is awesome He has no idea at all Whether or not His dick still sucks WHAT IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO THIS KID? I don't know. Let me see. *roundhouse kick to the face* [blank stare] Fuck, alright, well— Just put him in there with the other broken ones. “The other broken ones?” This—for some reason happens, sometimes. What? How often? Like, a lot? Opens door to roomful of lifeless bodies with blank canvas syndrome. So wait, Why isn They say all it takes is one song— What if the money you make is all wrong? Went from blonde to dark blonde Spent it all on repairing the Honda Hell naw Isn't it awful, what we all are, Or what have you— I just hope that this isn't at all What you meant by this It is, and it isn't It's just helpless Useless Combinations Concentrations, focus— Dance lessons Synchronized swimming It's just living, Infinite. Combinations Complications Hyper focus Dance lessons This is is not a dance class It's a fist fight! This is not a dancehall— It's a collesium Did you see em Did you see em This is not this morning, It's this evening— And I'm warning you to Leave me alone Leave me in the Tv then! That wasn't me, this was my clone. This is my office, not my home. Imm never home. 1-800-⌨️ NEVER ALONE Shout out to Amanda, I'm still aneorexic, somehow I was his punching bag, Now he just wants me back Shout out to Alaska I should book some shows out there How's my dad been How's the husband He's a has been. I HAS BEEEEEEEN! How long is this gonna take, you think? I think- I think— I think I just need TWO WEEEEEEEKS. I don't know why, but I needed that. Shout out to Amanda Now I can do algebra. Shout out to Alaska I should go back there Shout out to the past, man I should go back there You're not here for Skrillex, are you? Does it look like I'm here for Skrillex, to you? Whatever you do, just Whatever you do just— Oh shit, here she comes Here she comes Play “stupid” What the fuck's wrong with you Turn off the phone No, I'm stupid! Swiftly stops at seven just to remember: That— isn't it sinister what the plan is To deliver this message to the planet I got the water. There's a hole in the bucket, dear Jorgie!!! Dont cry, mama— I'm Rick James! Don't cry! (I know who you are…) Mama, I'm Rick James Alright, alright, alright What's good— Steve Slattery Uh. John Martin. Really?! Does she serious get us confused?! Are you not like— the same guy. “The Same guy” I feel like this should be in a seperate document. I feel like it shouldn't. It's true! It's true! It's just like this now She's just like this now! THERE THEY ARE. THERE'S TINA TINA SAY WHAT. Nothing. Nothing. Listen— [MAYA RUDOLPH—just has that look on her face] Yeah. I'm DRUNK. Everybody's drunk. *dancing* SOMEBODY GET ME OUT THIS PETH— —uNNHHH PRTY. Where Uptown A at? Sober. Doing my job. Preforming. Oh nice. Which you all should be. IMPOSSIBLE: You have officially rendered us UNSTOPPABLE! —dysfunctional drunken idiots. BANG—BANG— Oh shit, here they come BANG BANG! Chitty chitty TITTIES! SHHH! We're censoring, still This is NBC or Disney or something Everybody should be— We should be streaming it STREAMERS! AND STRIPPERS. Is that all we needed from the dollar store Oh what the fuck. That's crazy that this is all the same party. In. Ents. Idiots, Wait, are those DUDES. It appears so. ARE THERE GUYS HERE?! LOOKS LIKE IT! CHICK FIGHT!! The vocals go around the head to choke you, Woah, dude, I don't know what you go through, To open those throat chakras, Oh, I do know Oh so lowly This is a lot, I can't even. This is the winner since intermittent detention centers mental facilities and interests in domestic and international terrorism, respectively, but To be honest, I should slow down, Format formally for a moment, Go somewhere I don't go, I don't know, I should grow up though, Show up to a show or No. GO, GO— GET IN THE BOAT NO YOURE A GHOST! BE A GHOOOOOOOAAAAAAAATTTT GHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST stop it. Who tf are these tweakers? Just leave them alone. I'm pretty sure there's gonna be like a whole soundtrack to this by the morning or something. WHEN'S THE MORNING SUN!!! COME BACK!!!! Hello, Moon Just wait for a while, I am an army of men; Puppet I'm pulling the strings No man, I'm all on my own That's for now But who knows I can do bad all by myself Come on I'll show you Curtains close, Lights up, Curtains open Lights down One man show I'm a whole One man show I can do bad all by my— Luminous Illuminate me, I am (I am, I am) Luminous Illuminous Illuminous Luminous Go for a run, Soak in the tub You know? One door open, One more close Where you go? You go this way, And I go that, hon Let's do lunch soon Take your number You know what? I'm done with this (I'm done with this stuff, I don't want in no more) I'll show you Curtains close, Lights up, Curtains open Lights down One man show I'm a whole One man show I can do bad all by my— Luminous Illuminate me, I am (I am, I am) Luminous Illuminous Illuminous Luminous It's no wonder you're up with the sun It's one in the morning, You're still making coffee You started a world war —all I want is some water! You wanted a broke heart My scars, all I wanted was love Now what's up? I been up for a month I got up making coffee at One in the morning I still got no words for these verses I read duteronomy Here's some astronomy No more scars on my sky city lights Now I'm way up high You like that, hun? Yeah I'm way, way up I don't it no more I'm so done with this stuff Thought you started a whole war You can have the whole world For a glass of water You broke the part of my heart That was giving a fuck Now it doesn't Now you lost it I don't even want it no more I am an army of men; Puppet I'm pulling the strings No man, I'm all on my own That's for now But who knows I can do bad all by myself Come on Story: The owner of an underground/illegal nightclub pays his talent in drugs—but when the new DJ refuses and asks for cash up front, a dangerous clash is enacted, and ‘the talent' groups together and hatches a plan to take what belongs to them, by staging a robbery at a massive flash-mob style party. Damn. Ok. Well we'll see about this. What's the budget. Crunching. More Maya… Rupoloh. Sure MAYA! —Angelou— or Rudolph? Rudolph; but I can summon Maya Angelou, if you want. No thanks; I did that already in the first season. We might be related or something. MINNIE RIPPERTON We both have the same weird, Afrocentric No-shirt overall wearing Family Photo. I don't understand. Nobody does! This is fucked up. Yeah. This is fucked up. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2019-2024 | THE COMPLEX COLLECTIVE. © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -Ū.

The Spinsters discuss the movies Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Speed! They also discuss the connotations of words for smell,  balancing movies with margaritas, and the irresistible allure of That Egg Machine.Check us out at @clashyspinsters on Twitter and Instagram, or send us an email at clashypodcast@gmail.com. Shout out to @robotjellyfish for our logo and Chris Marino for our jingle!

Naked weddings in Italy are a thingKC's Car Service DisasterWin Lunch With Roy KeaneNo singing at ‘Da Hurling'?Billy Eilish is Anti 3 Hour GigsThe Golden TicketKevin Costners Bodyguard CallThe Pop QuizWrong Answers Only

This Q&A conversation is based on the sermon titled "Refuge" from Joshua 20:1-9.

This Q&A conversation is based on the sermon "The Power of the Word" from Joshua 14 - on April 21st 2024.

Major victories for Satan, JoJo Siwa, tennis, allergies, and when smart people get stupid: this is a packed week! We hope you laugh along, because some of these people's stories are shocking. We get very side tracked in this one, and wouldn't have it any other way. Deluxe Edition Network trailer: Church of Tarantino https://www.deluxeeditionnetwork.com/home/the-church-of-tarantino. Use code SORTAKINDAFUNNY for 10% off at https://coffeebros.com

Join Tougie and Cyn as they discuss "Chitty Chitty Death Bang!" The episode follows Peter after he tries to make amends for his son, Stewie's, first birthday party when he loses their reservation at a popular kids' restaurant known as Cheesie Charlie's. Meanwhile, Meg becomes friends with an excitable girl named Jennifer, who leads her to join a death cult (inspired by the 1997 Heaven's Gate mass suicide) in an attempt to fit in. Check us out in video form on YouTube!

Want to get on the same page as your spouse now that you have children? Let's talk about how to approach these hard conversations (no matter what age your kids are!) to help you feel like a team again.    In this episode, my guest Ashley Chitty shares openly and honestly about the hurdles parenthood threw at her marriage and how they faced these challenges head on while keeping their relationship a priority.    Tune in to discover: How Ashley's marriage evolved after welcoming children (and continues to evolve as her kids grow older) One game changing conversation every parent needs to have with their partner A vital but often overlooked aspect of nurturing and strengthening your marriage Overcoming the challenge of slowing down to address issues and have meaningful conversations amidst the chaos of family life One powerful realization to help you and your spouse stay committed through life's ups and downs   Listen to Ashley's podcast! https://podcasts.apple.com/ca/podcast/chitshow/id1556176899   FREE TRAINING! The Three Secrets to a Happier Marriage: https://marriedafterkids.com/march-2024-webinar   Get your FREE EBOOK! 3 Ways To Connect More With Your Spouse (In 5 Min or Less): https://marriedafterkids.com/freebie Connect with me for a FREE Married After Kids Intervention Call:  https://marriedafterkids.satoriapp.com/offers/277730-married-after-kids-intervention-call   Follow me on Instagram so you don't miss a thing! www.instagram.com/marriedafterkids

Adam and guests Kevin Anderson and Rivers Langley discuss updates to the Baltimore bridge collapse story, a fleet of runaway barges in Pennsylvania, the long overdue closing of a prison with the worst possible nickname, and so many other local news stories you should know about. Show notes: https://youdontshow.link/ydeltsep43

Ryan Cabrera is an American musician. He began his career as a lead singer for the Dallas band Rubix Groove before pursuing his solo career. Following the 2001 release of independent album Elm St., he released his first major-label album, Take It All Away, on August 17, 2004. Earlier in the year, Cabrera had become known for his up-tempo pop-rock single "On the Way Down". It was then followed by Cabrera's second single, "True"; and his third single "40 Kinds of Sadness". He's still performing to this day and you'll hear all about that in this interview.  I saw him on MTV a lot back in the day so I was super interested to know how the punk scene influenced him and what his lifestyle has been like since he broke out. I got him on the Skype and this is what we chat about What bands got him into punk music Connecting with Joe Simpson How he would sell himself at meetings with record labels The Ashley Simpson show Butting heads with John Rzeznik during their recording session His TV show Score Getting Punk'd Perez Hilton giving him a lot of shit Changing his sound Being on TRL The Lindsey Lohan story And a ton more Check him out on the Pop2000 Tour and listen to his latest single PRESCRIPTION OF YOU on Manic Kat Records. Check out Chitty from Houston Calls new podcast with his wife called the education breakdown podcast where the 2 of them explore the myriad of educational methods through interviews with teachers, administrators and parents. The goal is to inform those out there of how methods show up in day to day so parents can work to find the best fit for their children. (Side note: they have an interview with Jon Tummillo from Folly since who's a high school teacher). Follow them on Instagram - Educationbreakdownpodcast Feel free to support  the podcast for as little as $1 a month through Patreon

This Q&A conversation is based on the sermon titled "Fight" from Joshua 10:1 - 15 given on March 17, 2024. 

Unlock the secrets of exponential growth in healthcare as I, Austin Hare, sit down with the financial mastermind Nathan Chitty, CFO of Operation Dental. This episode promises to reveal the strategic maneuvers and real estate acumen that transformed a humble dental office into a 14-location success story. With Nathan's guidance, we navigate the intriguing journey of Operation Dental, from initial expansion hurdles to the unexpected benefits of AI in optimizing healthcare quality. Learn how a book like 'The Driven Dentist' can reshape your understanding of branding and why Nathan's own career shift is a tale worth hearing.Prepare to be captivated by the wisdom of prioritizing long-term relationships over fleeting profits, a philosophy that has been a pillar of Operation Dental's enduring success. We dissect the dangers of shortsighted business tactics and illuminate how embracing stability and thoughtful site selection can lead to remarkable profitability, as evidenced by our standout semi-rural practice. As our conversation draws to a close, you'll find out just how accessible Operation Dental is for further exploration and professional connection. This episode isn't just a behind-the-scenes look—it's a blueprint for thriving in the dynamic world of healthcare.If you need help finding the perfect location or your ready to invest in commercial real estate, email us at podcast@leadersre.com. Sign up for a FREE vulnerability analysis and lease renewal services View our library on apple podcasts or REUniversity.org. Connect on Facebook. Commercial Real Estate Secrets is ranked in the top 50 podcasts on real estate

This Q&A conversation is based on the sermon titled "I'm a Gibeonite Too" from Joshua 9 given on March 10, 2024. 

On this week's edition, we talk to Paula Jo Chitty Henry of Crepes by Paulette. She grew up in Bentonville and moved to New York (where she met her husband) and France after college. Once she and her husband Fred had kids, they moved back to Bentonville. With no culinary background, they set out to start a food truck (not their original plan) and have now grown to two restaurants. Hear how they did it, and what their future plans are on this week's edition of Flavors of Northwest Arkansas.

LORD I THANK YOU FOR MY GIFT!!!This is Chitty Chat # 49Mild Bucket: Things that girlfriends count as, "I hate you"Spicy Bucket: Men who don't want to date or surprise women, but want some bootyMIC TALKERS, THIS IS FOR YOU!!!

This Q&A conversation is based on the sermon titled "Rubble" from Joshua 7 and 8 given on March 3, 2024. 

This Q&A conversation is based on the sermon titled "Unbearable Weight" given on Sunday February 25th, 2024 based on Joshua 7. 

ALL THE VIDEOS, SONGS, IMAGES, AND GRAPHICS USED IN THE VIDEO BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS AND I NOR THIS CHANNEL CLAIMS ANY RIGHT OVER THEM.THIS SHOW IS INTENDED FOR ADULTS AND MATURE AUDIENCES!!!LORD, I THANK YOU FOR MY GIFT!!!Mic Talkers, this is Chitty Chat #48Mild Bucket: Can we punish kids for bad behavior when their parents are kids themselves?Spicy bucket: If you dating someone with no intentions of being serious, what are some things you should NOT do?MIC TALKERS, THIS IS FOR YOU!!!

This Q&A converstaion is based on the sermon titled "See, Hear, Follow" from Jan 21st, 2024 based on Joshua 3. 

This Q&A Conversation is based on teh sermon titled Unexpected from Joshua 2 given on Jan 14, 2024. 

This Q&A Conversation is based on the sermon titled "What Next?" from Joshua 1 given on Jan 7, 2024. 

ALL THE VIDEOS, SONGS, IMAGES, AND GRAPHICS USED IN THE VIDEO BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS AND I NOR THIS CHANNEL CLAIMS ANY RIGHT OVER THEM.THIS SHOW IS INTENDED FOR ADULTS AND MATURE AUDIENCES!!!LORD WE THANK YOU FOR OUR GIFTS!!!Mic Talkers, this is Chitty Chat #47Mild Bucket: Should a person of the opposite sex speak to your mate if they approach you?Spicy Bucket: Is the statement, "I'm just not happy anymore", a fair reason to get divorced?MIC TALKERS, THIS IS FOR YOU!!!