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In the 2nd hour of the show, Matt Spiegel & Laurence Holmes were joined by Chicago Sun-Times Bull beat reporter Joe Cowley.

Joe Cowley of the Chicago Sun-Times joined the show to discuss the Bulls 3-0 start.

Cardinal Blaise Cupich is in the news again, for all the wrong reasons.Sources:https://www.returntotradition.orgorhttps://substack.com/@returntotradition1Contact Me:Email: return2catholictradition@gmail.comSupport My Work:Patreonhttps://www.patreon.com/AnthonyStineSubscribeStarhttps://www.subscribestar.net/return-to-traditionBuy Me A Coffeehttps://www.buymeacoffee.com/AnthonyStinePhysical Mail:Anthony StinePO Box 3048Shawnee, OK74802Follow me on the following social media:https://www.facebook.com/ReturnToCatholicTradition/https://twitter.com/pontificatormax+JMJ+#popeleoXIV #catholicism #catholicchurch #catholicprophecy#infiltration

Cardinal Blaise Cupich is in the news again, for all the wrong reasons.Sources:https://www.returntotradition.orgorhttps://substack.com/@returntotradition1Contact Me:Email: return2catholictradition@gmail.comSupport My Work:Patreonhttps://www.patreon.com/AnthonyStineSubscribeStarhttps://www.subscribestar.net/return-to-traditionBuy Me A Coffeehttps://www.buymeacoffee.com/AnthonyStinePhysical Mail:Anthony StinePO Box 3048Shawnee, OK74802Follow me on the following social media:https://www.facebook.com/ReturnToCatholicTradition/https://twitter.com/pontificatormax+JMJ+#popeleoXIV #catholicism #catholicchurch #catholicprophecy#infiltration

Carl and Mike come back with more football talk and share thoughts on what a dynasty looks like in the new era of college football, which they agree now with the transfer portal and NIL, consistently being a top 12 team would be what defines a dominant program, which they believe Kirby Smart has Georgia as the one team who currently fits the criteria.

God cares about your intimate circle, your bosom pals. These are the people you love most and who most influence your life.Subscribe to daily devotions e-mails: https://wcm.link/ddsub

HYSTERICAL! Some of the best host stories from over the years. Recipes and food talk.... How about that Egg book? Shotguns and Booze anyone ? Clay Pigeons... PLUS we are now on Spotify and Amazon Music/Podcasts! Click HERE for Show Notes and Links DHUnplugged is now streaming live - with listener chat. Click on link on the right sidebar. Love the Show? Then how about a Donation? Follow John C. Dvorak on Twitter Follow Andrew Horowitz on Twitter   Love the Show? Then how about a Donation? The Closest to The Pin for Lithium Americas (LAC)  Winners will be getting great stuff like the new "OFFICIAL" DHUnplugged Shirt!   FED AND CRYPTO LIMERICKS   See this week's stock picks HERE Follow John C. Dvorak on Twitter Follow Andrew Horowitz on Twitter

Comment your guess on how long the government shutdown will last! Closest comment will get:The Latino Vote Podcast T-Shirt'Tío Bernie' book signed by Chuck Rocha: https://www.tioberniebook.com/'The Latino Century' book signed by Mike Madrid: https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/The-Latino-Century/Mike-Madrid/9781668015278*Must comment before notice of end of government shutdown.-Chuck and Mike dive into the government shutdown now entering its second week, debating whether it will last a month or wrap up sooner. They break down the explosive Virginia AG race where text messages about violence have upended the Democratic campaign, discuss New Jersey's tight Senate race, and explore why working-class Latinos are feeling disconnected from both parties.Our hosts analyze major fundraising numbers and the rise of new progressive candidates, including Jon Ossoff's $12 million haul and a Texas state rep who raised $6 million in just 31 days. They examine David Hogg's new PAC backing challengers to Democratic incumbents, the California governor's race after Katie Porter's viral meltdown, and why Prop 50's opposition is running out of money.Plus: Chuck shares insights from canvassing Latino voters in Paterson, NJ, discusses why Democrats need to reconnect with faith communities, and reveals his newfound obsession with "The Chosen" TV series. Mike breaks down the Tennessee special elections that could shift House control and why authentic candidates like the Maine oyster farmer are resonating with voters.-News from this episode:Politico - 'Jay Jones texting scandal breathes new life into GOP push in Virginia': https://www.politico.com/news/2025/10/08/jones-fallout-00596731CBS Evening News - 'Katie Porter has fiery exchange with reporter': https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MJOhyFViMacAxios  - 'Activist David Hogg struggles in push for new generation of Dem leaders': https://www.axios.com/2025/10/02/david-hogg-pac-democrats-strugglesAP - 'Georgia Democratic Sen. Jon Ossoff raises $12 million for 2026 reelection': https://apnews.com/article/georgia-democrat-2026-senate-jon-ossoff-fundraising-74b9232ae5779f34d96f852db7eeb455-Recorded on October 8, 2025.-Don't forget to like, share, and subscribe for more episodes of The Latino Vote Podcast!Watch our episodes on YouTube: www.youtube.com/@thelatinovotepodcastFollow us on X (formerly Twitter): https://twitter.com/TheLatino_VoteVisit our website for the latest Latino Vote news and subscribe to our newsletter: latinos.voteIf you want more of our discussions and behind the scenes please join our Patreon (www.patreon.com/thelatinovote) for exclusive content and opportunities!

From October 2023. Hosted by Tony Darnell. The search for life on other worlds is, to say the least, a daunting and overwhelming task. We've been searching for only about one human generation and have yet to find anything in our own solar system, let alone the vast expanse of our galaxy.   To increase our chances of finding life on other planets, a systematic approach needs to be adopted, one that applies reasonable assumptions that maximize our success.  So, an important question becomes, where should we point our telescopes?   We've added a new way to donate to 365 Days of Astronomy to support editing, hosting, and production costs.  Just visit: https://www.patreon.com/365DaysOfAstronomy and donate as much as you can! Share the podcast with your friends and send the Patreon link to them too!  Every bit helps! Thank you! ------------------------------------ Do go visit http://www.redbubble.com/people/CosmoQuestX/shop for cool Astronomy Cast and CosmoQuest t-shirts, coffee mugs and other awesomeness! http://cosmoquest.org/Donate This show is made possible through your donations.  Thank you! (Haven't donated? It's not too late! Just click!) ------------------------------------ The 365 Days of Astronomy Podcast is produced by the Planetary Science Institute. http://www.psi.edu Visit us on the web at 365DaysOfAstronomy.org or email us at info@365DaysOfAstronomy.org.

Are we set for the closest WSL title race in recent history? Lianne Sanderson breaks down all the results from a huge weekend of WSL action after big wins for the big four. Uma Gurav also joins the show to look back on an intriguing first round of Champions League ties and to predict a shock WSL winner this season... Plus, Lianne has a special chat with former Arsenal defender Johan Djourou who reflects on his time at the club, as well as his role with the Swiss FA during Euro 2025. He tells us what the Euros has really meant for women's football in Switzerland. Heidi Smith, the author of Play On: From Adversity to Advantage Through 140 Years of Women's Soccer chats about her book and Croix Soto breaks down what life is like in the Northern Super League in Canada! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Christian College Sex Comedy: Part 1 When Glen Zane Braxton is accidentally accepted into a fundamentalist women s college. In 30 parts, By FinalStand. Listen to the podcast at Explicit Novels. Leading up to the first day of college. Every old trick was invented by someone once upon a time. A Little Background: Hi. My name is Glenn Zane Braxton but everyone calls me Zane. I'm a good-looking (or so I'm told) athletic kid just over six feet tall and just under two hundred pounds. I get my Nordic looks from my Mom who hails from Norway. I apparently get my optimistic attitude and loose moral structure from my Dad, though I was to learn that Mom was a bit freaky too. My parents were killed in a rock climbing accident when I was fifteen so I was sent to live with my Uncle Tim (Dad's younger brother) and Aunt Jill. Unfortunately for me, while my parents had been rich hedonists, Tim and Jill were fundamentalist Christians doing missionary work in northern Thailand. I spent the next two-and-a-half years in a place where a paved road was a luxury. I have nothing against Christianity; I consider myself a decent Christian but I believe my faith stops at the next person's 'I'm not interested'. My aunt and uncle were a very different breed. They believed that it was every Christian's duty to convert our little brown brothers and sisters (no shit, this is what Tim told me) whether they wanted it or not. Needless to say, I witnessed them busting their self-righteous heads against the faith and traditions of these ancient people they'd come to 'help enlighten,' while I learned all about Thai culture, cuisine, and kick-boxing. I learned that spending time with Thai women was a hell of a way to get another kind of education too. On the down side, Tim beat me whenever he found out about the women. To get back at him, I spent time with Buddhist monks - score one for the Zen! Three months ago there was an incredibly brutal monsoon and something possessed Tim to go down to the river to save people. Since every sane individual was running away from the river, I pleaded that we go with the people that actually knew what was going on. Instead, I ended up with my Aunt and Uncle hip deep in the muddy water when an uprooted tree hit Tim and Jill. Like a fool I jumped into the flood waters after them. I got to Jill - Tim was a goner. Afterwards, when I realized that no Tim meant a return to the States, I was not crying tears of joy - that would have been cruel. After they gave up the search for Tim, Jill and I returned to Western Civilization. Jill surprised me by actually having a college degree that was useful and she got a job in Virginia working as an insurance adjuster for a nice sized company. I had completed my high school credits online back in Thailand and passed my college entrance exam so I was looking forward to partying it up somewhere far away from Jill. Fate has a funny way of laughing at me, though. For some byzantine reason, Dad set up my trust fund so that I would get a fraction of my inheritance when I turned eighteen, as long as I was in an institution of higher learning approved of by Tim and Jill - now just Jill. Otherwise, I had to wait until I was twenty-one. I wanted to go to the University of Hawaii Jill found a nice little place close to what she called home, real close. Speaking of home; our living arrangements were courtesy of Tim's generous insurance policy and his own little share of Dad's family's money. She bought us an expansive two-story spread with nice large yards, front and back, right where the countryside hits the suburbs. I wished we had a pool and even offered to dip into my own funds to have one put in but since pools were 'cesspits of depravity' Jill nixed the notion. Getting a car was also an interesting discussion. Jill said 'no way' and wouldn't budge until we noticed that our neighbors were two nice looking ladies in their twenties (I guessed). On the day we moved in I went over to talk (I'm drawn to women like a comet to the Sun) and spent over an hour getting to know them. There were two big pluses about their place; one was the large pool in back, which the girls (there turned out to be more than two) promised I could use whenever I wanted, real nice of them. The other one was, When I got home I told Jill not to worry about the car; the cute lesbian couple offered to pick me up from school whenever I needed a ride. "Are they atheists?" Jill gasped. Apparently them being homosexuals wasn't enough? "Nah, they are Wiccans," I lied again with a smile. We went car shopping the next day. I figured I would tell Jill we lived next to a sorority house (to the other university in town) at some later date. What Not to Wear Moving in turned out to be half the battle for my life at the new house. Next came the clothing war. Personally, I think I look great naked and do wonderful with people of the female persuasion but in Virginia they arrest you for this. Since I only have a twenty percent chance of being taken in by a female police officer (or the five percent of the male officers who are out and-out homosexuals), I'm going to go to jail if I go around nude. My solution was to look around the local teenage hangouts, websites, and social networks to get me a style that would be both individualistic yet fit in. Aunt Jill was of the opinion that my school uniform (see below) would be my normal look. When I told her I'd use my own money to get what I wanted she threatened to throw them out because I was still living under her roof. I got pissed off and since my outlet options were pretty limited, I stupidly went to my room and did what every teenage boy should never do when their female guardian is at home - maybe I have malaria and the fever was clouding my thought processes. In Thailand I would simply go out into the jungle Jill never went out into the wilderness if she could help it. There was no jungle and Jill knew right where my room was, and since it was her house, she barged right in. Half way through giving me a piece of her mind Jill noticed me, the Vaseline, the box of Kleenex, and what my hand was pumping. I yanked the comforter on my bed, trying to cover myself, which resulted in my flipping off the bed (I was sitting on the comforter) and rolling to Jill's feet. Jill stood there with her mouth wide open, eyes glued to my cock. I stopped pumping but my rod wouldn't go down despite my shame, not of my erection but because I didn't like sexually taunting a recent widow. "That's, that's disgusting," she gasped while still fixated on my erection. I wiggled around so that I could pull up my underwear and slacks. Once my cock was under cover Jill started harping on me. "You vile pervert," she seethed. "What is the meaning of you showing your, thing to me? You are filthy. Wash your sheets then wash your hands then never do this again." "Um, Jill, Aunt Jill, I'm an eighteen-year-old male. I need to masturbate," I informed her. "Not in this house," she said shrilly. I grabbed the tissues and Vaseline, then headed for the door. "Where are you going?" she worried. "Into the woods out back," I answered as I tried to move past her. "I kind of need to finish this." "You will do no such thing," Jill gasped as she grabbed my arm, "you might be seen, and it's wrong." First priority for Jill was social appearances while my spiritual well-being was somewhat less important at that moment. "Jill," I cautioned her, "I really need to knock one out. I'm stressed." Jill grabbed the Vaseline and tissues from my hands, not because she was stronger but because in my own twisted way, I still acknowledged Jill as my authority figure; not much of one, but one nonetheless. Ripping them away from her wasn't an option so, "Jill, you are my only parent now. I need to come to you about, things sexual," I suggested. "No," Jill responded with some shock. "There will be no sex in this house. You will have sex when you are married and not before, ever. Even then, sex is only for procreation." "Jill, I'm not a virgin," I informed her. Her jaw dropped but I'm not sure if it was shock, horror, or something else. "You've had sex with a girl?" she whispered. "Aunt Jill, I had twenty girlfriends back at the mission," I related. "Did, Did Tim know? How did it happen? When did you do it?" she stammered. "Tim knew; that is why he kept beating my ass. "It happened simply enough; we would be bathing down at the river and if we liked what we'd seen and if things clicked, we'd go fool around. Sometimes we'd kiss and touch and sometimes we'd have sex; you know, blowjobs, cunnilingus, vaginal and anal sex," I continued. "Gack, ah, oh, God preserve me," Jill sputtered. "As for when, the best time was right after Bible study when you and Tim were preoccupied with the parents and us kids could sneak off to a house and fool around in the common room, and then couples would pair up and have sex in the bedrooms," I finished. "Oh, poor Tim," Jill moaned as she slumped against the door sill. "Can I have my stuff and go now?" I asked softly. "No," she snapped. We kind of stood there for a minute before she asked, "Were you sneaking peeks of me at the river?" "Umm," I half turned away, "yeah, I did." Jill looked offended. "You are very sexy, Jill," I attempted to mollify her. It didn't work. "You pervert, you freak, that's incest. It is against God's Laws!" she screamed at me. "Jill, we are not blood related, and I never said I actually wanted to sleep with you, only that you have a very nice body," I countered calmly. "Shut up! Stop talking," she shouted, before storming off, leaving me even more frustrated. An hour later Jill sent me out to get some pizza but when I got back she wasn't in the house, though her car was still in the garage. I smelled smoke and followed the scent out into the backyard. I saw what Jill was doing; she didn't need to tell me what she was up to but she did it anyway. "I think we need to put your misspent time in Thailand behind you," she announced, "so I've decided it is best to get rid of all the clothes, books, and statues you brought back." "You should have asked me," I stated. Of course, this meant War. "You are awash in sin, Zane," she answered in this twisted, loving tone. I turned and went in the house. What had that monk said to me when I'd discussed my relationship with Tim and Jill? One does not build a house of stone out of grass Which he suggested meant petty payback satisfies little and is soon gone, but real revenge comes from working permanent change on your opponent. Over the next four days I ordered a secure chest online, withdrew my bank limit each day, and started taking a pitcher of grape juice to my room at bedtime (it will make sense in a moment). I decided to start my plan Sunday night. Stage One: after Jill has gone to bed, fill her car up with gas and report all her credit cards and bank card stolen. We have plenty of food in the kitchen and Jill takes her lunch to work so with the car full of gas she won't immediately notice her cards are useless tomorrow. Also withdraw yet another five hundred dollars with my bank card, which is the daily limit. Stage Two: Once Jill has gone to work, I put three of her Sunday's Best into the steel chest, to which I have the only combination. Burn every piece of ultra-conservative matronly-wear, from underwear to bathrobes to jackets. Now that mid-morning has come, I head over to the Sorority House and enlist the aid of my two new friends, Leigh and Corrie. We go clothes shopping with the money I've saved up. Each 'sister' gets one thing (for services rendered) and the rest of the money we dump on getting Jill everything a sexually confident and active twenty-something would wear (Jill's only thirty) as well as getting me some normal clothes. I'm not going to attempt to make Jill dress like a hooker; that would never work. Jill's been warped by her narrow-minded environment for all of her three decades so making her more tolerant is going to take time. Stage Three: As we are heading to the bedrooms that evening I 'accidently' bump into Jill and soak her with a pitcher of grape juice she now knows I'm taking to my room on a regular basis. Grape juice doesn't come out and a pitcher will soak her down to her underwear and bra. "Sorry, Aunt Jill," I blathered. "Oh, Zane, this dress is totally ruined. I should make you pay to replace it," she sounded cross. "Consider it done," I offered. Technically, I'd already bought her a new one. Jill went into the bathroom muttering Leviticus before tossing me a roll of paper towels to clean up the spilled juice. "Zane?" Jill called from the bathroom with a hint of concern. "Yes?" I responded from the hallway. "Where is my bathrobe?" she inquired. "In the laundry," I lied. I hear her putter around for a few seconds, then, "Go to your room and shut the door," she ordered me. I got up and made a point of noisily shutting my door. Half a minute later the bathroom door squeaked open and I heard Jill pad quietly to her room and shut the door. I opened my door and sprinted to the bathroom. I retrieved her clothes from the hamper and tossed them in the sink, got the carefully secreted lighter fluid from underneath, doused them, and tossed in a lit match. At the same time as I'm doing this, I heard Jill slamming dresser drawers open and shut. "ZANE!" Boy, what have you done?" Jill shouted from her room. I raced out of the bathroom (on purpose) at the same time Jill burst out of her room so we were basically five feet apart when Jill remembered that she was naked; I was barefoot in pajama bottoms. Jill's look was priceless as she realized that the number of men who'd seen her totally naked since she hit puberty had just doubled. She spun around and bolted into her room, door slamming shut once more. It took her a few moments to form a plan. "Zane, go to your room and shut the door," she growled with a tad more control. "Sure thing." I grinned as I walked to my room, shut the door, and leaned against it waiting for what I knew would unfold next. Sure enough, Jill raced to the bathroom. "Zane, where is my dress?" "In the sink," I told her. Three, two, one. "ZANE! What have you done!" she screamed once more. "My bra, my underwear, my hose, she sobbed. "Jane, you have a robe in your closet. If you want, put it on and come to my room so we can talk this over," I suggested. I didn't hear anything for fifteen minutes as I waited on my bed. Finally, the door swung open slowly and Jill took a half step into my room. Her eyes were downcast in shame but her voice was full of hurt and anger. In her mind there was no possible reason for me to have done this. She was pulling off the Hurt Little Girl bit really well with her mid-thigh crimson satin robe and her wavy, deep-red hair flowing loosely over her shoulders and down her back. "I can't believe you picked this out for me to wear, Zane. Now where are my clothes?" she ground out. "Jill, you look good in that, really good, but I didn't pick it out for you. I had our next-door neighbors do that because you are all beautiful young women," I explained. "If you tell me what color you are wearing, I'll tell you where your clothes are." Jill stood stock still as she worked out that I was talking about her panties. "Blue, the deep blue ones, with the black, lace," she whispered. "Not the white?" I had to ask since I would have guessed this was the first pair of non-white panties she'd ever worn. Her constricted mind had expanded a tiny bit. "The white ones were nearly see-through," she answered after a second. I had to agree with that. "I put your clothes exactly where you put all the stuff I brought back from Thailand," I answered. It took a moment for that to sink in. Her burning green eyes popped up in shock. "What am I going to wear to work tomorrow?" she wailed. "I'll tell you if you agree to one request I have for you," I replied with compassion. "Fine," she hiccupped. She was so body conscious that she wasn't really thinking about the implications of what she was saying but I believed she would still honor her word. "I want you to wear your hair down all day tomorrow, or in a ponytail, but that's it," I ordered. Jill looked at me truly confused; she always wore it in a bun. "But why?" she questioned. "I don't understand." "Your hair is beautiful when it is down, Aunt Jill. I figure it wouldn't kill you to try a new look," I answered. Again, she didn't understand but I was okay with that, and getting her clothes out of the closet was part of the deal. I pulled out bag after bag and set them on the bed. Jill stepped up during the process and pulled various articles of clothing out, utterly flummoxed with what she was discovering. This wasn't slut-wear but it would definitely show more of her curves and skin than she would have ever normally considered. When I finished bringing bags out she looked past me, expecting more. "I can't wear any of this," she declared. "Please tell me you didn't really destroy my clothes." "Jill, I did burn up most of your clothes and you can wear what I bought you. You are thirty, not sixty-five. When I jumped into that river, God decided that I rescued you and not Tim, and I can't believe I saved you so you could go right back to the same life you had before," I interpreted what might have been true, God doesn't talk to me. "What did I do to deserve this, Zane?" she pleaded. "You burned up all my stuff from Thailand, Jill. And while you might think of this as revenge, it's not. You may not see it this way now but one day, I hope you will understand that I love you," I told her. "Zane, I don't understand. What you did was evil, despicable, and wicked and I won't tolerate it. We should pray to God, me for guidance and you for forgiveness," she pouted. She made to kneel down at my bedside so I followed out of long practice. We clasped our hands in prayer and while Jill closed her eyes, mine remained open. Now, my bed is not even at knee level so when Jill knelt down to pray, leaning forward until her elbows were on the mattress, she inadvertently thrust her ass backwards, yes, Jill was doggy style on my bed. I had abstractly known Jill was attractive but the thought of having sex with her had never come up. What was now 'coming up' was suddenly a problem, as were my attempts to keep up with exactly what Jill was asking God for, but the gist of it seemed to involve the Almighty taking steel wool to my corrupt soul, the harder and more painful the scrubbing, the better. "Amen," we said in unison as the thirty-seven minute ordeal came to an end and Jill stood up. "Jesus has told me that I only have to put up with your dementia until morning. I'd rather get new clothes instead of showing up to work, as some strumpet," she proclaimed. "Um, where did you come up with the word 'strumpet' and who ever said it was a sin to be good looking?" I asked. "Nothing I got for you suggests sexuality, no push-up bras, crop tops, or slit skirts. They're clothes, nothing more." "It doesn't matter what you think," Jill countered. "Whatever madness you thought you were accomplishing won't work. I really should call the pastor." "And tell him what, that I burned your clothes and bought you, normal clothes? Why don't we call everyone on the church roster?" I warned her. Jill balked at the prospect of having our family feud exposed. Jill sniffed, spun, and started to leave the room when she recalled the clothes I'd bought for her. She huffed and came back for them, looking at me very indignantly. When I went to help, she warned me off with a hateful glare. An hour later, as I began to despair over my actions, I heard Jill's bedroom door open and a crinkly crunch in the hall. Upon examination, I found one of the bags I'd purchased clothes in outside her door. Inside, folded up, were the other bags. Jill had put my clothes away in her drawers and closet. I counted that to be a small victory. At breakfast the next morning I endeavored to be very correct and polite as I complimented Jill on how nice she looked. She returned my platitudes with an angry glare and she left for work without saying a word. In her favor, when she learned her credit cards were toast she didn't break down and scream at me over the phone or miss work. That evening she did still slam the door to the garage loud enough to rattle windows on the other side of the house when she got home from work. "ZANE!" she screamed, "What did you do to my credit cards?" "Your replacements should be here by Saturday or Monday at the latest," I replied soothingly as she stormed up to me. "So," I went on, "did anyone compliment you on your looks today?" "What, I, that's not important," she muttered, then she changed tact. She came over to the sofa where I was reclining, knelt down, and took my hand. "Zane, you are falling into lust, degeneration, and degradation, sins of the flesh. You have to stop this." 'Stop what?' I wasn't precisely sure. "What you want me to do? Should we pray further on the matter? Last night I felt, something, but I still feel empty," I suggested. Jill's face lit up so I slipped past her and knelt beside her. Jill was unwittingly sexy as she sashayed forward on her knees to rest against the sofa. I reached out to her and she took my hand, then the praying began. What followed was a repetitive litany of me falling into lust and dark desires (clothes buying?). Dear departed Uncle Tim didn't even get an honorable mention which would have been surprising if he hadn't been such a total bastard to me. Jill's neglect I didn't quite understand. She'd always been loyal, dutiful, and supportive. It then occurred to me that I'd never seen him exert an ounce of human compassion toward Jill. I got up and ran to my bedroom, ending up on the bed. Jill padded along behind me after a minute. "Zane?" she wondered. "When is the last time you had sex with Uncle Tim?" I whispered so quietly that Jill struggled to understand me. "But, no, don't do this, Zane, don't fall into apostasy," Jill simpered. "I have a gift for you. It is something you want but I need you to answer the question," I offered. "What is the gift?" she asked, guardedly intrigued. "I can promise you no regrets," I countered. Jill weighed her options, turned, and left. "Dinner," Jill called to me an hour later. I dutifully went downstairs to the dining room to enjoy a mediocre meal in silence. We barely exchanged a single glance. As I got up to clean the table, cleaning was my chore, Jill spoke. "Seven years." I was pretty proud that I didn't fall over in shock. First off, in my teenage, hormone-addled mind, how could anyone go without sex for seven years? Next, how could someone with Jill as a wife not want to have sex at least once every seven hours? Finally, what was Tim doing in the lady-boy section of Bangkok when he found me that one time? I really feel like an idiot on occasion. "I saved your three favorite Sunday dresses," I rewarded her. Jill's eyes showed a glimmer of hope. "Which ones? I mean, how did you know which ones were my favorites?" she pondered. "You told me, Aunt Jill. I do listen to you, ya know," I responded. She gave me the oddest look, as if I had just explained to her how Ruth slew Goliath, not David. "Thank you," she whispered. The first battle of the Witch, the Brat, and the Wardrobe was over. The war would go on. The next time we went grocery shopping (Jill decided that the less time I was left alone, the slower I would plummet to my eventual fiery demise) I caught her noticing guys giving her the once over and she liked it, of that I'm sure. How do I know this? She let me talk to the cute stock girl for fifteen seconds before reeling me in, which was long enough for her to write her number on the palm of my hand. I called her and asked if she wanted to go to a sorority party when the semester began. She informed me she was a rising senior in high school so I gave her my number and told her to call me on her eighteenth birthday if she was still interested. You can't win them all, immediately. FFU             Birds are made beautiful by their plumage but divine by their flight        Now to the college I was attending; Freedom Fellowship University (yes, that is F-FU if you stutter) is the Christian college in my new hometown. Jill read about them in online chat rooms and by communicating with some of her Christian social network gal pals. She heard they had a dress code and without checking on the specifics, she bought me a dozen sets of black slacks and white shirts guaranteed to mark me as a social leper. She signed me up for my classes. I opted for Pre-Med; she insisted I should go Pre-Law until I revealed my secret sinful desire to work for the ACLU, at which point she relented. She wanted me to play some sports, I suspect because she wanted me to have a safe hormonal outlet that didn't involve me touching women. I could have told her that dressed as I was, getting women (short of kidnapping) would be nearly impossible. The problem was, they didn't offer any of the traditional sports except for soccer and track and field. I felt that was odd but I decided to sign up for soccer tryouts anyway. I also signed up for Karate, though I had no idea what a Christian school would be teaching that for, plus Archery (I've never used a bow before), Marksmanship (I've never fired a gun either), and Orienteering (because everyone gets lost in suburban Virginia and has to subsist on squirrel and road kill, right?). I downright refused to have anything to do with the Competitive Bible Study Team. By the end of the admissions process I was beginning to think this was a school for some kind of uber-religious survivalists. Still, they accepted me on short notice and except for a tiny quirk in the online admissions form, I was sadly ready to go to college. It would be that tiny quirk that would change my life forever. There Must Be a Church! Before I could attend college there was one quibble to deal with and that was which church Jill and I would attend. I claimed to be partial to the Unitarians, mainly to watch Jill's face go from normal to pale to an angry beet red. Sometimes razzing her is too easy. Jill chose the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ after carefully weighing, considering, and then utterly disregarding my input. I guess I had to be happy they weren't snake handlers. On that first Sunday it was raining. I ended up having to run back into the house as Jill backed the car out of the garage and I took a header into a mud puddle in the lawn. Seeing how soaked I was, Jill allowed me to miss out on Sunday school. When I tried to get to the normal service my car wouldn't start (she'd insisted on buying me a used car, which I was now allowed to return for a new one). The second Sunday was a comedy of errors. The garage door opened halfway, then got stuck, and Jill gave the wrong address to the church family she desperately called to come pick us up. On the third Sunday I was sick, so sick that I missed the Sci-Fi movie classic of the week-(end) Saturday night, Vampire Zombie Overlords II. Jill normally lets me watch it because I told her it shows science in a bad light. I would like to point out that Jill isn't stupid but she does tend to believe that which is most convenient to her world view, in this case, Science = Bad. The fourth and final college-free Sunday, Buddy Jesus informed me that I had to go because no Act of God showed up to save me. It turned out that the First Anointed Free-willed Fellowship of Christ was huge, one of those mega-churches and by the number of luxury cars in the parking lot, not one populated by the unwashed masses. Everyone was very, very friendly to the point where I refused to drink or eat anything they tried to force on me, fearing that I would become a drugged-out zombie filled with unconditional love and happiness toward the world. The one other weird thing was that there didn't seem to be any kids my age in the congregation. I had no Sunday school that day. I later learned this was the weekend of their Pre-College/High School Youth Retreat. Apparently everyone in this place acted as a herd. Before we left I met with Pastor William Penny, chief shepherd of this flock, and he wanted to be my pal. Jill was enraptured with the guy but somehow he came across as creepy to me. Will, Jill, and a few well-meaning parishioners ended up steering me to the Pastor's office (which was as big as Jill's huge kitchen). There my new buddy wanted me to sign some paperwork. Jill urged me to hurry up and get it over with and promised to take me to a nice steak house we'd seen but never been in, as if I was a small child easily pleased. Maybe I should have gone for pre-law because I ignored Jill and did read what they wanted me to sign. They wanted me to tithe, and not on my income, of which I had none, but on my net worth. Everyone around me looked hopeful and I couldn't help but smile as I picked up the pen and started laughing. When they began looking confused I laughed harder, and that made them displeased. I didn't pick up the pen to write; I picked it up so I could stab the first one to rush me. "Listen up, Pastor Bill, can I call you Pastor Bill?" I didn't wait on his reply. "I don't know you or anyone but Aunt Jill in this room," I chuckled, "and I imagine you are all terribly nice folks, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I give millions of dollars to people I know nothing about." "We are doing God's work," Pastor Bill assured me, "and please call me Pastor William." "Please," Jill pleaded, "this is what your Uncle Tim would want." For Jill's sake I didn't laugh out loud once again. Tim gave me billions of mosquito bites, outdoor plumbing, and ass-whooping s on a regular basis so all I felt I owed good ol' Tim was putting a heavy stone on his grave so that he didn't rise up from the dead when the End Times came. In retrospect, Tim did me one favor; he taught me the ability to be verbally evasive when needed. "Aunt Jill, as Uncle Tim told me, being a Christian is a matter of Faith working through the mind and hands. It is my Christian duty to make sure that his legacy (really my Mom and Dad's) is placed where God wants it. Uncle Tim would make me pray deeply to the Almighty before taking such a momentous step, so pray I shall." Pastor Bill looked disappointed in me, which was a poor mask for his unsatisfied greed. Jill and the rest of the flock seem to have bought my act and that was the victory I needed to win right then. On the way back home Jill was pleased as punch. I'd expressed to her new friends what a wise saint good ol' Uncle Tim had been. This was the day I had to move into my dorm room on FFU's campus so I didn't have much time to dwell on everything that had happened. Barbie Lynn Masters, Dorm Mother To say that I was pretty depressed when I began moving into college would have been an understatement. I met some nice girls who were also moving into my dorm but I wasn't much in the mood for talking. I found my room but they had my name wrong. Not only was I not Zane they even got Glenn wrong; they misspelled it as Glenda. I hadn't been unpacking fifteen minutes before this hottie breezed in asking if I was Glenda's brother. "Sure," I joked, "I'm Zane." "Can I see some ID? I'm the Dorm Mother," she asked pleasantly. I showed her my driver's license which read 'G. Zane Braxton'. "And you are?" I inquired. "Barbie Lynn Masters. Do you live close by?" she prodded. I looked around my room (which I shared with an as-of-yet unseen roomie), shrugged, and replied, "Yes. I live about a mile and a half away, just inside city limits," I played along. Couldn't she see that it was my name on the luggage in my room and I'd already unpacked? "Can we count on seeing a lot more of you?" she purred, stepping up into my personal space. With her four-inch pumps, she was an inch taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up slightly to meet her gaze. "Unless you have a girlfriend, of course," she demurred. "I don't have a girlfriend but I'm looking for one," I grinned back. I wasn't really lying; I was looking for lots of girlfriends. "So, do you have a boyfriend?" "Oh, no," she assured me. "I took a Purity Pledge and I have a fianc so I can't be in a causal relationship with a boy, though being a 'friend' of a student I'm responsible for is fine." She licked her lips. My understanding of her convoluted reasoning was short-circuited by her D plus cleavage, perfect teeth, long light-golden hair, soft bedroom blue eyes, and blemish free, tanned skin. I've never considered myself terribly bashful. I hadn't been with a welcoming and available female in two months; she was right there in my face, so I grabbed Barbie's ass subtly, pulled her close, and began kissing her. At first Barbie seemed to be all talk and no action, but that lasted all of five seconds before she was all over me with our tongues intertwining and our hands going over each other's backs and asses. In a flash I had my hands up her pleated skirt, inside her plain white panties, and was massaging each muscular ass cheek separately and vigorously while my lips left hers and migrated to her neck and ear with kisses and bites, all of which seemed to really excite Barbie Lynn. She was moaning and grinding against me like a teenager coming down from a forty-eight hour unresolved porno binge. Her left hand slid around to the front of my jeans and touched my crotch where I was rapidly coming to the fullness of life. "Oh, God!" she whispered as she began stroking me up and down. "Tell me that's not a rolled up sock." "Huh? What? No, that is all me. Why do you ask?" I mumbled between licks and kisses. "Oh, some boys can be very dishonest," she sighed from past experience. "Does it hurt?" "No, it feels fine," I assured her. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt just a little bit?" she persisted as she groped my bulge. Something clued me in. "Actually, it does hurt a little bit," I guessed. Barbie Lynn broke our embrace, padded silently over to the door, took a quick look out, then shut it. She was back in my arms in record time. "In that case, let me see it," she grinned. "How does a blowjob jive with your Purity Pledge?" I stupidly wondered out loud. "Oh," she beamed an angelic radiance up at me as she slid down my body and unzipped my pants, our eyes locked together, "a blow job is sinful and done out of lust but relieving your pain is blessed and done out of love." "I feel myself getting closer to spiritual fulfillment every second I'm with you," I breathed huskily as she pulled down my pants and boxers, unleashing my manhood. Barbie tentatively, with a bit of fear showing, licked the tip of my cock. I let her get used to me before resting a hand on her head. She responded by slowly engulfing my cockhead, which felt freaking awesome after my long dry spell (please remember I had virtually non-stop sex for two and a half years). She bobbed slightly while pumping my shaft rapidly with one hand and tickling my balls with the other. I tried to push a little bit but Barbie gagged. I guessed she wasn't too skilled at this but hey, everyone starts somewhere. After five minutes she was taking more than half of my length in and doing so hungrily. "I hope you are not close to coming," she mumbled between mouthfuls. "Actually, I'm feeling greedy," I responded. She looked up at me, head still bobbing. "I can sense your pain and feel I should do something about it," I explained. Now she looked confused so I backed up, pulled Barbie up by her waist and kissed her once more. I gracefully walked my hand down her waist and hip to her crotch. With a sharp intake of breath by Barbie, she melted into me and bit my shoulder. Next I spun us around and pushed her back on the bed at the corner, splaying her out for me as her bosom bounced sensually and enticingly. "What's on your mind?" Barbie asked with wide eyes. "I want a taste," I grinned evilly, which only turned her on more. I fell between her outstretched knees. I made eye contact with her as she propped up on her elbows and my hands went to her panty waistband. I grinned, she blushed, and the panties came flying off. Barbie squeaked then slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. "Use my pillows to prop up your back," I directed Barbie Lynn since she clearly wanted to watch. I maneuvered Barbie into a suitable position so that I was kneeling on the floor with Barbie's silky smooth legs spread to either side. Barbie Lynn was propped up so that she could watch me work. I got the feeling she was used to some level of stimulation, just not from a guy. I could deal with that. "Maybe we shouldn't do this now, or go back to my place where it is safer?" she asked. "I'm too hungry for you right now; your scent is intoxicating," I finished up saying, and then I went in. I didn't rush things because every first time should be special. My right hand traced the line along the sides and rear of Barbie Lynn's thighs. My left hand traced the line over her pubic area to her stomach that finally ended with her left breast. "Hurry," she panted. I knew she had somewhere to be but I was aware she could use some stress relief too. Barbie reached down with a hand to control my left hand and head but I was obeying my instincts. By the time she made up her mind to stop me, I overwhelmed Barbie with a pleasurable, mind warping first orgasm. The noise brought a few students sneaking in to take a peak. Once I had a semblance of control over her, I began a series of actions to excite her whole body. On the second orgasm she wrapped her legs around my head and nearly crushed it. While I lapped up her juices, I decided to follow that up by kissing Barbie and giving her some of her own fluids to taste, a trick new to her. I kept my cock sheathed, though all three of Barbie's holes looked delightful. I figured she wasn't ready yet but I did manage to take off her shirt in the process and fondling and suckling at her magnificent breasts. After the third and fourth orgasms, Barbie passed out, and when she woke up, she whispered to me that she wanted my cock in her mouth and cunt. Purity Pledge? What Purity Pledge? Barbie Lynn confided in me that she'd sucked cock before and thought she was quite good at it, and that a few men had temped her cunt and ass with real penetration but all she had done so far was pleasure herself with toys and with the aid of other (female) students here at school. She was still technically a virgin (no boy parts had penetrated her cunt) but she'd done 'everything else.' Was she or was she not an anal virgin? My money was on virginity. Barbie was pleased that I was going to her church (it was highly popular at the college, she told me), almost as pleased as I was to find her so receptive and hungry for more sex. I told her she needed sexier underwear and that I would gladly go shopping with her for some in case she wanted to model any (yes, I know they don't let you model underwear). While we talked I helped her get dressed, though we couldn't find her panties. We slipped out after that, Barbie to tend to her girls and me to go to my Aunt's. I told her I'd see her tomorrow. Barbie laughed as if she didn't believe me. As I left, I began to appreciate the guy: girl ratio of this place because it was looking very good in my favor. My evening with Jill passed uneventfully; we stayed up late as Jill suddenly realized she was going to be alone for the first time in years so I didn't end up sneaking quietly into my dorm room until well past midnight. The Journey Begins. Day One, It's a What? My first day of college began with a six a.m. wake-up alarm in our room. Both my roommate and I sat up at the same time. We looked at each other and the sheets failed to conceal we apparently both slept shirtless. "Hi. You are a girl," I got off first. "And you are a guy," she replied indignantly. "What are you doing in my room? I mean, why did they give me a female roommate?" I countered. "Ah, are you joking?" she asked incredulously. Clearly I wasn't, and that realization made her grin mischievously. "Where is Glenda?" she inquired next. "Ugh," I sighed. "When I was registered their system misspelled my name. My first name is Glenn, thus the Glenda, but I go by Zane, my middle name. What about you?" "Whoops. I'm Rio Talon and this is going to be wicked," she giggled. "I have to admit I never thought I'd meet someone like you at FFU." "You don't see quite the hardcore fundamentalist/survivalist type either," I responded. "Ha!" she grunted. "You got me. It was either this or three years at a minimum security prison in Arizona," she confessed. She didn't volunteer what she would have done time for and it was really none of my business. "I need to shower," I changed the subject. "I'll go with you," Rio volunteered as she slipped out of bed, and yes, she was naked, and cleverly and artfully shaved with several delicate chevrons pointing down. She also had a black tattoo of the name Lilith going from the right hip along the bikini line, definitely not Church issue. I went to the closet, got a robe, towel, and bathroom kit. Rio brazenly watched me move around. "Body-conscious much?" she chuckled. "Rio, I spent the last two years bathing down at the river with two hundred of my closest neighbors. Trying to cover up gets old really fast," I grinned back at her. "Does my body disgust you?" "'Disgust' isn't the word I was going to use," Rio said as she licked her lips and also got ready for the bathroom. "Now, let's get you shaved before, the bathroom gets flooded with people. By the way," she tossed me Barbie's missing undies, "are these yours?" "Booty from my panty raid; please don't turn me in," I chuckled, as I caught them, then stashed them in my backpack, hopefully to return to Barbie Lynn later. Rio laughed again. As I suspected, not only did I get assigned a female roommate but I was on a female floor, which earned me more than a few shocked looks. Since Rio stuck close to me, she earned her own share of looks, but these were more scornful; Rio ate it up. I still couldn't decide whether I'd miss Rio or not when I got my new room assignment. The two girls in the showers ignored Rio and I when we came in so I was able to shave in peace and get under a steamy shower without the expected shrieks. Only when they dressed in their robes and put on their glasses did things change. Their looks were best expressed as 'a boy saw me naked!' followed by 'A boy saw me naked, ' and ended up with, 'A boy saw me naked and he liked what he saw.' I get hard when the wind blows, anywhere around the globe. They fled in a fit of giggles and I safely exited the bathroom before another girl entered. It was hardly unforeseen that my attire made Rio laugh but when she suggested black horn-rimmed glasses would really complete the nerd-look, I had to laugh too. I noted her regulation skirt appeared to be a bit higher above the knee than was prudent with a pronounced lack of underwear. Rio confessed that her parents tossed all her 'stripper' wear when they shipped her off and she wasn't going to wear the 'granny' panties they had put in place of her G-strings. The trek cross-campus to the Dining Hall would have been more enlightening if Rio had not lured me into an engrossing conversation. Remember now, I had been isolated from mainstream Western pop culture for over two years and had a lot of catching up to do. We grabbed some trays of breakfast; then, at Rio's insistence, we headed outside to eat pretty much by ourselves, or so we hoped. "Professor, inquired this cute brunette with pig tails, dimples, and into pushing her tits in my face; I barely noticed she was backed up by three other girls. "Huh?" I questioned. "Braxton," Rio spoke over me. "Could you tell me, where the, um, Clegger Science Building is, Professor Braxton?" She lied pathetically. My first thoughts were, 'why is she wearing such a thin white blouse two-sizes too small?' and wondering 'when is this thread holding that central button in place going to give up on its hopeless struggle and let her boobs pop out?' Then I became curious why she called me 'professor'. "It is right over there," I said, as I stood up, put my hand on the small of her back, and pointed the way with my other hand. The location of the building was blindingly obvious since this is not a huge campus. If things weren't awkward enough, Ms. Brunette twisted, rubbed her hardening nipples against my chest, and asked, "There?" "No," I corrected by whispering into her ear, causing her to wiggle against me. I took her forearm, lingering my touch on the pulse of her wrist before directing it to the proper angle. "I would walk you there," I added, "but we have to go to the auditorium soon." "Thank you, Professor Braxton." She wiggled a third time. "It is really a pity I don't have any of your classes. What do you teach?" "He's a Biblical Archeologist," Rio interrupted, "specializing in Early Christian Erotic Art and Rituals." I felt Ms. Brunette have a micro-orgasm over that piece of fantastical news. "Are you still taking on students?" Brunette panted to me. Rio jumped up. "Whoops! Look at the time!" exclaimed Rio, "Professor, you have to go, Right Now!" With that, she dragged me away from Ms. Brunette and her girl posse and across campus. "What the hell was that about and why did she call me Professor?" I hissed to Rio as we came to the auditorium for our first assembly. "Oh, it must be some Southern thing, sort of like the English calling men 'Governor'," she lied convincingly. How do I now know she lied? It will become obvious.   I took a seat with Rio amongst the sea of students and it was just my luck that we were surrounded by girls once more. I really wasn't in the mood to have them gawk at me so I slumped down and kept a low profile. The auditorium sounded full-up and there was a magnitude of teachers and such on the stage. When a stately, attractive, yet demanding and stern tall woman with long grey hair worked up in a bun stepped up to the podium, the hall grew silent. First she led us in prayer, which I found odd because normally at this level of fundamentalism, women couldn't lead men in prayer, but I could have cared less. She welcomed the rising seniors first, then worked down the list until she recognized the new class of freshmen, reminding them of their 'Handmaiden Duties,' whatever that was. I looked to Rio who was stifling to suppress some dark glee, undoubtedly at my expense. The Chancellor of FFU worked us through some of what I assumed was normal school crap plus a reminder to review with diligence their code of moral and ethical behaviors and the names of their spiritual guidance counselors in case they felt wickedness overcoming them. Considering the thin white blouses and the short, pleated plaid skirts, yours truly and the other men on campus were going to be scoring like mad, morals and ethics be damned. A closing prayer ended the meeting and we dispersed like good little sheep heading for our first class of the semester. Rio and I both had English Literature but in different rooms so she was kind/sadistic enough to drop me by my room before heading her own way. I walked in and took a middle seat. Once again all the girls looked at me funny when they came in and I couldn't miss the fact that in a classroom size of twenty, we had nineteen girls and only one guy, me. I was mulling this over (I'm actually a smart guy but I admit, I hadn't been showing it too much recently) when our teacher came in. Her name was Ms. Goodswell (no lie) and she was a gorgeous brunette with breasts of greater proportions than Barbie Lynn's, and the rest just got lusher. Ms.  Goodswell leaned against the front of her large wooden writing desk and used her tablet to scroll down the roll call. I was number three. "Braxton," her sugary sweet voice drawled out. "Glenda Braxton." I shifted in my seat. "Here," I said in a clear masculine voice, "but I go by Zane." Ms.  Goodswell looked up over her reading glasses, expecting something other than me. As she looked at me her eyes grew larger, and she looked, and she looked. "What are you wearing?" she asked crisply. "What my Aunt told me was proper school attire, Ms. Goodswell," I replied tentatively. "Proper attire is clearly outlined, white blouse and a pleated blue and gold tartan skirt with white knee sox and black shoes. Men wear pants; women wear skirts," she clarified. I imagine my jaw dropped open at that one. Finally, I stood up so she could get a good look at me. "I'm dressed correctly, then I'm a guy," I insisted. Ms. Goodswell had looked annoyed but now she looked pissed. She strode boldly toward me, heels clicking against the marble floor. "So you insist that you are a man, do you?" she snapped. Before I could do anything but nod she slapped a cupped hand against my crotch. I coughed in pain. I became aroused despite the mild discomfort because I was now gazing down into Ms. Goodswell's ample bosom. Her eyes went from angry to utter shock. "You are a man," she whispered in horror. "What are you doing in my class?" I reached into my book bag and got my schedule, letting her gaze on it. I noticed her hand stayed on my crotch. "Nine a.m., English Lit. 101 in room 204, Denning Hall V. Goodswell," I read out loud. Ms. Goodswell read it over while she massaged my growing shaft; subconsciously or not, I wasn't sure. "Very well," she said decisively. She turned back and returned to the roll. As I sat down I had that creepy feeling that everyone else was staring at me, or more precisely, my Goodswell-inspired hard on. After that little bit of drama the actual class was okay. Ms. Goodswell was pretty bright and made our upcoming journey into the works of a bunch of old dead British guys sound fun. When the bell rang we got up and started to file out but Ms. Goodswell motioned me to wait for the others to leave us alone. It didn't work out that way; the other girls hovered right outside the door. "Okay, Mr. Braxton, what are you trying to prove?" she accused me with some real heat. "Please, Ms. Goodswell, believe me; I haven't a clue what is going on here. I woke up with a girl in my room this morning, I began. "You had a girl in your room this morning? That didn't take you long," she said bitterly. "No, wait; it was my assigned roommate, Rio Talon, and she was on her side of the room. It is okay because they accidently stuck me on a girl's floor in the dorm because there were girls in the showers too," I continued. "Didn't you thing that was a bit odd?" she asked suspiciously. "Not really, ma'am. I've spent the last two years with missionaries in rural Thailand; I'm used to bathing with naked women all the time. Initially, I figured this was some sort of bureaucratic snafu but after doing my own quick census of your class, I think I've missed something crucial," I explained. "Mr. Braxton, Zane, this is an all-girls school; men are not allowed. We can't even employ a man under the age of forty-five," she informed me while studying my expression. While my cock would have done summersaults of joy, my brain was looking at my access to my trust fund going down the toilet. "I apologize. I'm pretty sure my Aunt Jill didn't know and I assure you, I was ignorant of this fact. What do we do now?" I sighed. "I believe you, Mr., .Zane. No one would use this as an excuse after going through all the trouble to sneak in here. For now, you continue to your classes and I'll inform your other instructors of this, extraordinary event. Expect to spend lunch with the Chancellor so that we can extricate you from this situation. Can I rely on you to be good in the interim?" "I'll do my best," I promised. She dismissed me and began using her phone. When I slipped out of the room, my classmates made room enough for me to make my way down the hall. "Zane!" a young female voice called out. I turned around to see Ms. Brunette. "Is it true you are a freshman here?" I was sure she would be pissed for the whole 'Professor' gag Rio had played and I'd unwittingly gone along with. "Yes," I confessed. She'd assumed I was a teacher because I was male and I hadn't corrected her. "Kiss me!" she beamed hungrily. That was not what I expected but I reacted quickly and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. Ms. Brunette looked upset. "You can do better than that," she commanded. Again, not what I expected; I put my book bag down, took hers off her shoulder and placed it next to mine. I started off with a repeat of the last kiss but instead of that being the ending point, I used it as a foundation to build upon. I slowly drew her in; she pulled her arms up between us and cupped my face as I dipped her with enough tongue action to make our steamy embrace a thermographic exploration of lust. We kissed for over a minute before I brought her up and let her go. "Better?" I murmured to her. Ms. Brunette nodded dreamily. As I retrieved my book bag from the floor I realized I was adrift in a sea of lonely young women. I could now empathize with that lost baby seal who found itself surrounded by a pod of killer whales. "Kiss me!" insisted a blonde. "No, me; I was here first." "I'm a senior; I go first," demanded a breathtaking black woman. I didn't know what was going on and I had no idea how to deal with this bizarre situation but all that was taken out of my hands by the next noise I heard. "Get off me, bitch," I heard Rio shout out, followed by a slap and her scream. Rio was hardly my friend, in fact, she had used me for her own personal amusement for the entire time I'd known her, but she was my roommate, an outsider, and I was sure no one else would come to her aid. I shouldered my way in the directions of her screams and sobs, parting the last few girls separating us. Rio was on her stomach on the floor with three girls gathered over her. Closest to me was one with thick, wavy black hair and dark skin who had her foot pushing down on Rio's ass. The second one, who appeared to be the leader, was a black girl with shiny black hair in an intricate weave and was bouncing on Rio's back, yanking her hair back painfully, and was taunting Rio, saying she was supposed to be a good little beast of burden as well as mocking her as a 'felon'. The last tormentor was the only one facing me, though she was preoccupied with holding Rio's arms forward so she couldn't reach back to scratch the ringleader. It wasn't hard for me to figure out what to do. When Weave started bouncing up, I swept the legs out from under the other wavy-haired girl, sending her toppling backwards. I then put a boot to the black girl's ass, propelling her into the spectators on the far side of us. I didn't even bother with girl number three. I grabbed Rio by the arm and yanked her up and swung her behind me. It turned out to be a good choice because when the black girl back-flipped up in one fluid move, she landed in a martial arts fighting stance. I had a fight on my hands, or would have if the bell hadn't rung. As it was, the black girl looked both outraged and shocked when she took in my gender and my counter-stance. A flood of girls suddenly separated us. Rio took the opportunity to grab her book bag, then my hand, and together we bolted to our next class which was, oddly enough, Biblical Archeology but without the procreation parts. Our professor, Mrs. Carradine, treated me a bit coldly but the attention directed my way by the student body was anything but. I had barely pulled out my book when the girl behind me tapped my shoulder and slipped me a note. You will take my book bag to lunch and eat lunch with me. Dove Foster I furrowed my brow and showed the note to Rio who was sitting next to me. She smiled and whispered, "Handmaiden's Duty," in a condescending tone. "Didn't you read your handbook?" Any further conversation was cut short by Mrs. Carradine's blistering glare. For some reason, Buddy Jesus kept me safe from anymore female attention until the class ended and I began to make my way out. I took some comfort that Rio stayed close to my side. My Social Secretary "Zane. Zane Braxton, do you mind if I call you Zane?" babbled a shorter, slender girl with shoulder length black hair and glasses as she grabbed my elbow in a death grip from behind. "You can't ask him to do anything until he steps out of class," Rio cautioned the newcomer. Now I had to decide whether or not I'd be a slave to Dove for an hour because technically she appeared to be in violation of the rules, which I knew no

ROTFL - Some of the best host stories from over the years. Shoes off at airports anyone? Vinegar book? How about economics based on train count? PLUS we are now on Spotify and Amazon Music/Podcasts! Click HERE for Show Notes and Links DHUnplugged is now streaming live - with listener chat. Click on link on the right sidebar. Love the Show? Then how about a Donation? Follow John C. Dvorak on Twitter Follow Andrew Horowitz on Twitter   Love the Show? Then how about a Donation? The Closest to The Pin for Lithium Americas (LAC)  Winners will be getting great stuff like the new "OFFICIAL" DHUnplugged Shirt!   FED AND CRYPTO LIMERICKS   See this week's stock picks HERE Follow John C. Dvorak on Twitter Follow Andrew Horowitz on Twitter

(00:00-25:20) Voice of the Blues Chris Kerber joins us leading up to the Blues opener later this week. No big roster surprises. What will the split between Binnington and Hofer look like? The process of preparing for television broadcasts this year. The anticipation is high going into this season after the disappointing end to the season last year in Winnipeg. Your favorite starlet lifts his legs up. Chapstick through the television.(25:28-38:09) Mark Sanchez had himself quite the weekend in Indy. The story shifted quickly over the course of the weekend. What's the level of optimism/concern for the Mizzou Alabama game this weekend? Crushing tape. Drink needs this win for his resume. What's Drink's biggest win in his Mizzou tenure?(38:19-57:37) Gabe DeArmond of Power Mizzou joins us. Gabe agrees that Tina is a national treasure. What's the vibe like heading into Alabama week? Missouri hasn't beaten Alabama in 50 years. Closest comp is when #1 Oklahoma came to Columbia in 2010. Cayden Green's injury and the possibility for his return. Gonna need 30 to win this game. Alabama can be susceptible to the run. Avoiding the big plays in the pass game. Fans rushing the field if they win.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The NZ Ice Figure Skating championships are taking place in Auckland in today. For many of the contestants it's a fun hobby, but for others the stakes are higher. Winning the senior category here could mean a shot at qualifying for next year's World Championships. One of the women vying for that spot is Petra Lahti originally born in Tauranga, now based in Finland.

Susie Jones will celebrate 29 years at WCCO radio tomorrow and she joins Chad to talk about some of the best and worst times from nearly three decades at The Good Neighbor.

Week 4 of our Trinitytide Series in the 10 Commandments.

As we catch our breath after a phenomenal weekend of marathon running at the World Athletics Championships in Tokyo, Deena has all the news from the National Stadium. Then, ahead of this weekend's BMW Berlin Marathon, Martin catches up with a Berlin-based running influencer, coach, and community builder who has become a familiar face in the city's thriving fitness scene, Aaron McCammon joins us to tell us all about the running scene in Berlin, how to make the most of your time in Germany if you are there for the race and much more. ‍Links & references‍ ‍ Abbott World Marathon Majors https://www.worldmarathonmajors.com/ https://www.instagram.com/wmmajors/‍ https://www.tiktok.com/@marathontalk Martin Yelling https://www.instagram.com/martinyelling/ Deena Kastor https://www.instagram.com/deena8050/ Aaron McCammon https://www.instagram.com/callme.air.ron/  

Kathleen McNamee hosts this week's Final One Standing as Eve Conway and David Wilson debate all the major talking points heading into Merseyside derby weekend in the Premier League!The Final One Standing on Off The Ball with William Hill.

We explore the sacred bond of marriage, biblical leadership requirements, and finding hope in times of grief through Scripture and historical wisdom from Andrew Jackson.• Making time for God and reading the Bible should be our priority• Marriage is a unique "one flesh" relationship out of seven billion people on earth• Biblical leadership starts with managing your own household well• Psalm 88 honestly expresses feelings of abandonment and despair• Andrew Jackson's letters offer Christian comfort for those experiencing loss• As Christians, we have hope in reunion through Christ• Nothing we can do earns salvation—it's a free gift from GodIf you're looking for a family-friendly read for your kids or grandkids, I humbly recommend "Countryside." You can find it on Amazon and Barnes & Noble in hardcopy, paperback, and e-book formats. If you enjoy it, please leave a review.Support the showThe American Soul Podcasthttps://www.buzzsprout.com/1791934/subscribe

Join astronomers Franck Marchis (SETI Institute) and Julien Girard (Space Telescope Science Institute) for a 30-minute live discussion unpacking NASA's exciting new findings from JWST. Just announced, JWST has revealed strong evidence of a Saturn-mass gas giant orbiting Alpha Centauri A—the Sun's nearest solar twin—located just 4 light-years away. The planet appears to orbit at about 1 to 2 AU, placing it within the star's habitable zone, though as a gas giant, it's not likely habitable itself. (Recorded live 8 August 2025.)

This week we hear your craziest stories of being betrayed by those closet to you. Plus a listener question from someone that's dealing with jealousy in a relationship and might need to have a chat to their partner... LINKS Follow Jadé on Instagram @jadetunchy and TikTok Follow Lachie on Instagram @lachiebrycki and TikTok Email us at madaboutyou@novapodcasts.com.au Follow Nova Podcasts on Instagram for videos from the podcast and behind the scenes content – @novapodcastsofficial. CREDITSHosts: Jadé and Lachie BryckiExecutive Producer: Hannah Bowman Managing Producer: Ricardo BardonDigital Content Producer: Brittany Birt Find more great podcasts like this at novapodcasts.com.auSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to Day 2 of 10 Days in Tokyo! In this special limited series of The Running Channel podcast, Sarah, Rick and Andy unpack all the action from the World Athletics Championships - along with exclusive behind-the-scenes insights you'd never see on the TV.It was an action-packed day of athletics, featuring what might be the closest finish in marathon history, as Tanzania's Alphonce Simbu edged out Amanal Petros to take Gold. In the sprints, USA and Jamaica dominated the headlines in the men's and women's 100m finals. Rick's in a good mood as his skincare is improving day by day, Andy's clocking up miles with locals in Yoyogi Park AND somehow, Sarah got completely lost in the Japan National Stadium.

This week's guest is none other than SMH co-host, Elliot Archuleta. With all that's going on in the world, we're reminded how crucial it is to sit with one another and exchange perspectives. We hope that you steal these questions and learn more about even your closest friends (or spouse!). Support the show by becoming a member of the Something More Society and gain access to exclusive episodes and more intimate ways of connecting.Stay Connected with Sam & ElliotLeave us a voicemail here! Grab your "A Little More Humani-tea" & shop our other merch!Follow us on Instagram & TikTok 

Andy and Randy talk about the competitiveness between Tennessee and Georgia recently and how this one might be a bit tighter than previous editions. They also discuss Georgia Tech hosting Clemson and the Falcons visiting the Vikings on Sunday Night Football.

Polish prime minister Donald Tusk says the incursion of Russian drones into Polish airspace brings his country closer to military conflict “than any time since World War II”. But it's not just Russian aggression causing major headaches for European Commission president Ursula von der Leyen - she's also facing backlash over her U-turn on Gaza, with many calling the latest sanctions on Israel too little, too late. With tensions rising on multiple fronts, the real question is: can a divided Europe stand united in the face of growing threats — or are internal cracks starting to show at the worst possible time? Host: Tessa Fleming, Guest: John DowningSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

You're ready to go all-in on your dream, but someone close to you doesn't get it. Maybe they're questioning your choices. Maybe they're making little jokes. Or maybe they're totally silent when you share your vision. In this episode, I break down how to handle the judgment, fear, or guilt that can come from your closest circle, whether it's your partner, your family, or your friends. I share the six sneaky ways people unintentionally sabotage your growth, how to take your power back, and why their fear is not your responsibility. Get ready to stop waiting for their permission and start building the life you know is meant for you. Check out our Sponsors: SKIMS - I finally tried SKIMS and I get all the hype. Shop SKIMS Fits Everybody collection at SKIMS.com and let them know we sent you in the dropdown after checkout. Brevo - the all-in-one marketing and CRM platform designed to help you connect with customers and grow your business. Get started for free today - go to www.brevo.com/happy Blinds.com - Blinds.com makes it easy to get the designer look without the showroom markups. Get an exclusive $50 off when you spend $500 or more with code EARN at checkout. Shopify - Try the ecommerce platform I trust for Glōci, Sign up for your $1/month trial period at Shopify.com/happy Headway - the #1 daily growth app that delivers key insights from the world's best non fiction books in bite sized 15 minute reads and audio. Save 25% off when you go to makeheadway.com/happy. Airbnb - Start making money by listing your home on Airbnb with an experienced Co-host, find a co-host at airbnb.com/host HIGHLIGHTS Why the people who love you most are often the ones holding you back. Six ways your inner circle might be sabotaging your dream. The moment I realized I was letting someone else's fear cancel my purpose. What to do when someone close mocks your dream. The mantra that will help you hold your power during hard conversations. How to reframe judgment and show up in your calling. RESOURCES Join the 30 Day Audacity Challenge HERE! Join the most supportive mastermind on the internet HERE! Check out our FREE 90-Day Business Blueprint HERE! Listen to my free SECRET PODCASTS SERIES - Operation: Rekindle This B*tch Get glōci HERE Use code: HAPPY at checkout for 25% off! FOLLOW Follow me: @loriharder Follow glōci: @getgloci

00:00 Intro01:16 Trump Wants EU to Hit China With 100 Percent Tariff: Reports04:11 Trump, Modi Reaffirm Friendship After Modi's China Visit04:56 Europe Is in a Fight for Its Own Future': EU Head05:55 Poland Says It's Closest to Open Conflict Since WWII07:48 LeBron's Quotes Misused in Pro-China Op-Ed11:30 Supreme Court Agrees to Fast-Track Trump Tariff Appeal14:10 US Lawmakers to Visit China This Month14:41 Competition Judge William Li on Classical Chinese Dance19:49 Chinese Robotics Firm Targets $7 Billion IPO: Sources

On Wednesday, Poland shot down suspected Russian drones in its airspace with the backing of aircraft from its NATO allies. Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk says “we are the closest we have been to open conflict since World War 2”. Pat discusses this in details with Kira Rudik, Ukrainian MP and Leader of Holos Party and Duncan Bullivant, CEO, Henderson Group .

Nineteen Russian drones entered Poland's airspace overnight, and some of them were shot down by Polish and Nato aircraft, Polish PM Donald Tusk has said. It marks the first time Russian drones have been downed over the territory of a Nato country. We'll speak to Ukraine's defence minister and a former U.S. ambassador to Nato.Also on the programme: The UN's children agency, UNICEF, has released a report today that says there are now more obese or overweight children globally than underweight ones; and a long-awaited inquiry into a programme carried out by Danish doctors to fit contraceptive coils for Inuit women and girls in Greenland has found the vast majority did not give their consent.(Photo: Prime Minister Donald Tusk speaks during an extraordinary government meeting at the Chancellery of the Prime Minister in Warsaw, Poland, 10 September 2025. Credit: Szymon Pulcyn/EPA/Shutterstock)

Vitaly Shevchenko, Russia Editor with BBC Monitoring, analyses the incursion of Russian drones into Polish airspace. Artur Michalski, Polish Ambassador to Ireland, discusses the Polish response to the Russian violation of their airspace.

Join my free 28-Day Basketball IQ Email Course here: https://www.visiondrivenbball.com/28dayemailcourseEvery day you'll get a short, powerful lesson that takes just three minutes to read and gives you something you can immediately apply in games. Players who've gone through it say it completely changes the way they see the game.In today's video, I'm breaking down three force multipliers that help you get better at basketball twice as fast as everyone else. These aren't about spending more hours in the gym—they're about making the work you already do more effective. You'll see how to turn your off days into development days, why film study is one of the most overlooked game-changers, and how the weight room multiplies every skill you already have. If you apply these consistently, you'll separate yourself from 99% of other players.

The Closest to The Pin Game

Send us a textTucked away in northeast Arkansas, the small town of Rector transforms each Labor Day weekend into a vibrant celebration that draws crowds of up to 20,000 people. Dating back to 1940, this beloved tradition has become the community's signature event - as one local puts it, "Most people celebrate the Fourth of July. In Rector, we celebrate Labor Day."In this episode, we experience the Rector Labor Day Picnic firsthand, capturing the sights, sounds, and flavors that make this 85-year tradition special. From award-winning parade floats featuring sharks and octopi to the volunteer-run food stands serving hundreds of burgers, every aspect of this celebration showcases small-town America at its finest.What makes this event extraordinary isn't just its longevity but the spirit behind it. Everyone you meet - from the burger cooks who arrived at 6:30 AM to the creative minds designing elaborate floats - is a volunteer. These dedicated community members give up their holiday weekend to create something special, with all proceeds supporting the upkeep of the local cemetery.The food alone is worth the trip, with carnival classics like funnel cakes and fried Oreos alongside massive $10 corn dogs that "looked like turkey legs." We chat with longtime residents who've attended 40-60 previous picnics, getting their perspective on what makes this year's perfect weather and exceptional turnout particularly memorable.Join us for this heartwarming exploration of community spirit, tradition, and the special magic that happens when a small town comes together. Whether you're nostalgic for small-town celebrations or simply curious about unique American traditions, this episode captures the essence of community identity in a rapidly changing world. Dunklin County TransitNeed a ride????? Check out Dunklin County Transit!!! ANYONE CAN RIDE!!!Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.Support the showPlease share and SUBSCRIBE!!!If you are able ... would you help us in becoming a subscriber and helping us get the word out. https://www.buzzsprout.com/1133780/supportThinking about starting a podcast. Check out our affiliate link here.Listen on apple hereFacebook Listen on Spotify here

In our news wrap Monday, China welcomed leaders from some of its closest allies to an annual security summit, the European Commission blamed Russia for jamming the GPS signal of the commission president's plane, Israeli strikes killed at least 31 people in Gaza and Labor Day saw unions and other groups holding what they called 'Workers Over Billionaires' protests in cities across the nation. PBS News is supported by - https://www.pbs.org/newshour/about/funders. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy

In our news wrap Monday, China welcomed leaders from some of its closest allies to an annual security summit, the European Commission blamed Russia for jamming the GPS signal of the commission president's plane, Israeli strikes killed at least 31 people in Gaza and Labor Day saw unions and other groups holding what they called 'Workers Over Billionaires' protests in cities across the nation. PBS News is supported by - https://www.pbs.org/newshour/about/funders. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy

The great lie of the Epstein scandal isn't just what he did, but how the powerful around him suddenly claimed they couldn't remember him at all. Presidents, princes, billionaires, academics, bankers, and celebrities who once courted his money and shared his jets all reached for the same script when the walls closed in: I barely knew him. It was a coordinated act of survival, not an accident. Institutions like Harvard, MIT, Deutsche Bank, and JP Morgan played the same game, pretending they never saw the red flags. Legacy media, instead of hammering the contradictions, often published these denials straight, allowing amnesia to masquerade as truth. Forgetting became strategy, and strategy became cover.But memory leaves evidence. Flight logs, photographs, donations, and testimonies remain, and every denial only underscores the complicity of those who looked away. The survivors don't get to forget; they live with scars while the powerful rewrite history. What the amnesia act reveals is cowardice: a willingness to erase reality to protect reputation. Epstein built his empire on memory, yet his circle tried to survive through erasure. In the end, their denials brand them more deeply than their associations ever could—because the attempt to forget is itself proof they remembered perfectly well.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.com

The great lie of the Epstein scandal isn't just what he did, but how the powerful around him suddenly claimed they couldn't remember him at all. Presidents, princes, billionaires, academics, bankers, and celebrities who once courted his money and shared his jets all reached for the same script when the walls closed in: I barely knew him. It was a coordinated act of survival, not an accident. Institutions like Harvard, MIT, Deutsche Bank, and JP Morgan played the same game, pretending they never saw the red flags. Legacy media, instead of hammering the contradictions, often published these denials straight, allowing amnesia to masquerade as truth. Forgetting became strategy, and strategy became cover.But memory leaves evidence. Flight logs, photographs, donations, and testimonies remain, and every denial only underscores the complicity of those who looked away. The survivors don't get to forget; they live with scars while the powerful rewrite history. What the amnesia act reveals is cowardice: a willingness to erase reality to protect reputation. Epstein built his empire on memory, yet his circle tried to survive through erasure. In the end, their denials brand them more deeply than their associations ever could—because the attempt to forget is itself proof they remembered perfectly well.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.com

Sam Moores and Charlie Wilson finish our 2025 NFL division preview series by looking at the NFC West. They debate whether the Rams can retain their title, if the Seahawks are being slept on, whether Kyler Murray has much of a future with the Cardinals, and if the 49ers can go from worst to first. --------------------------------------------- Timestamps:  00:00 - Coming up on the Full10Yards NFL Podcast  02:22 - Intro 03:30 - 2024 Recap  07:21 - Los Angeles Rams Season Preview  20:56 - Seattle Seahawks Season Preview  37:20 - Arizona Cardinals Season Preview  51:12 - San Francisco 49ers Season Preview

The great lie of the Epstein scandal isn't just what he did, but how the powerful around him suddenly claimed they couldn't remember him at all. Presidents, princes, billionaires, academics, bankers, and celebrities who once courted his money and shared his jets all reached for the same script when the walls closed in: I barely knew him. It was a coordinated act of survival, not an accident. Institutions like Harvard, MIT, Deutsche Bank, and JP Morgan played the same game, pretending they never saw the red flags. Legacy media, instead of hammering the contradictions, often published these denials straight, allowing amnesia to masquerade as truth. Forgetting became strategy, and strategy became cover.But memory leaves evidence. Flight logs, photographs, donations, and testimonies remain, and every denial only underscores the complicity of those who looked away. The survivors don't get to forget; they live with scars while the powerful rewrite history. What the amnesia act reveals is cowardice: a willingness to erase reality to protect reputation. Epstein built his empire on memory, yet his circle tried to survive through erasure. In the end, their denials brand them more deeply than their associations ever could—because the attempt to forget is itself proof they remembered perfectly well.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-moscow-murders-and-more--5852883/support.

The great lie of the Epstein scandal isn't just what he did, but how the powerful around him suddenly claimed they couldn't remember him at all. Presidents, princes, billionaires, academics, bankers, and celebrities who once courted his money and shared his jets all reached for the same script when the walls closed in: I barely knew him. It was a coordinated act of survival, not an accident. Institutions like Harvard, MIT, Deutsche Bank, and JP Morgan played the same game, pretending they never saw the red flags. Legacy media, instead of hammering the contradictions, often published these denials straight, allowing amnesia to masquerade as truth. Forgetting became strategy, and strategy became cover.But memory leaves evidence. Flight logs, photographs, donations, and testimonies remain, and every denial only underscores the complicity of those who looked away. The survivors don't get to forget; they live with scars while the powerful rewrite history. What the amnesia act reveals is cowardice: a willingness to erase reality to protect reputation. Epstein built his empire on memory, yet his circle tried to survive through erasure. In the end, their denials brand them more deeply than their associations ever could—because the attempt to forget is itself proof they remembered perfectly well.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-moscow-murders-and-more--5852883/support.

The great lie of the Epstein scandal isn't just what he did, but how the powerful around him suddenly claimed they couldn't remember him at all. Presidents, princes, billionaires, academics, bankers, and celebrities who once courted his money and shared his jets all reached for the same script when the walls closed in: I barely knew him. It was a coordinated act of survival, not an accident. Institutions like Harvard, MIT, Deutsche Bank, and JP Morgan played the same game, pretending they never saw the red flags. Legacy media, instead of hammering the contradictions, often published these denials straight, allowing amnesia to masquerade as truth. Forgetting became strategy, and strategy became cover.But memory leaves evidence. Flight logs, photographs, donations, and testimonies remain, and every denial only underscores the complicity of those who looked away. The survivors don't get to forget; they live with scars while the powerful rewrite history. What the amnesia act reveals is cowardice: a willingness to erase reality to protect reputation. Epstein built his empire on memory, yet his circle tried to survive through erasure. In the end, their denials brand them more deeply than their associations ever could—because the attempt to forget is itself proof they remembered perfectly well.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-epstein-chronicles--5003294/support.

The great lie of the Epstein scandal isn't just what he did, but how the powerful around him suddenly claimed they couldn't remember him at all. Presidents, princes, billionaires, academics, bankers, and celebrities who once courted his money and shared his jets all reached for the same script when the walls closed in: I barely knew him. It was a coordinated act of survival, not an accident. Institutions like Harvard, MIT, Deutsche Bank, and JP Morgan played the same game, pretending they never saw the red flags. Legacy media, instead of hammering the contradictions, often published these denials straight, allowing amnesia to masquerade as truth. Forgetting became strategy, and strategy became cover.But memory leaves evidence. Flight logs, photographs, donations, and testimonies remain, and every denial only underscores the complicity of those who looked away. The survivors don't get to forget; they live with scars while the powerful rewrite history. What the amnesia act reveals is cowardice: a willingness to erase reality to protect reputation. Epstein built his empire on memory, yet his circle tried to survive through erasure. In the end, their denials brand them more deeply than their associations ever could—because the attempt to forget is itself proof they remembered perfectly well.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-epstein-chronicles--5003294/support.

We've all heard the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Randy says that's a lie. Words can cut deep, or they can give life. In this episode, Randy shares how the wrong words can slowly kill your closest relationships, while the right words can build them stronger than ever. If you want more peace at home and at work, this episode is for you.

What happens when we get closer to Jesus? What happens when we go from the “Crowd” to the “Core”? The closer we get to Jesus, the more we experience his power, revel in his glory, and participate in his plan for our lives! Jesus didn't use the crowd to change the world, but those who were CLOSEST to him. And he's not just calling a few to be close to him, but all of us. Ultimately, only a few will say yes. How can we take that bold step of faith to follow his call?

In a typical domino effect, Gianluigi Donnarumma's trouble at PSG has caught the eyes of Pep Guardiola and Manchester City. Consequently, Ederson is looking to Turkey for further employment, but should he fight for his place, or avail himself to guaranteed first team football abroad?Dotun, Andy and Nicky debate that - plus - can Ademola Lookman keep his foot in the door at Atalanta after Inter Milan pulled the plug on his transfer? Will Club Brugge shake up the Champions League after a confident performance away at Rangers? And what league will be the most competitive this season? **Get 15% off annual subscriptions to our Patreon until the end of August! Don't delay!**Sign up for ad-free episodes of On The Continent, the Football Ramble and Upfront, plus access to our Discord throughout the season and the 2026 World Cup for just $51 a year or $5 a month: https://www.patreon.com/footballramble.Ask us a question on Twitter, Instagram and TikTok, and email us here: otc@footballramble.com.***Please take the time to rate us on your podcast app. It means a great deal to the show and will make it easier for other potential listeners to find us. Thanks!*** Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Host Phil Salvador is joined by Derek Alexander, of the YouTube channel Stop Skeletons From Fighting, and Zarithya, of the YouTube channel Zarithya, to talk about the fan-restored 16-player mode for the 1991 Game Boy game Faceball 2000 as laid out in My 2 Year Journey to Solve the 30-Year Myth of Faceball 2000 | SSFF. In this bit of video game archeology, Derek and Zari take us through the collaborative effort, the technical expertise required to create custom adapters and controllers, and the investigation into historical claims to execute this endeavor. But in the end, did it even work?You can listen to the Video Game History Hour every other Wednesday on Patreon (one day early at the $5 tier and above), on Spotify, or on our website.See more from Derek Alexander:Bluesky: @stopskeletons.bsky.socialYouTube: /StopSkeletonsFromFightingTwitch: /stop skeletons from fightingPatreon: /StopSkeletonsFromFightingSee more from Zarithya:YouTube: @ZarithyaTwitch: /ZarithyaBluesky: @zarithya.onlineVideo Game History Foundation:Email: podcast@gamehistory.orgWebsite: gamehistory.orgSupport us on Patreon: /gamehistoryorg

In December, the Parker Solar Probe made history when it made the closest-ever approach to the sun by a spacecraft. As it whizzed by, a camera recorded incredibly detailed images, which show the sun's surface, the flow of solar winds, and eruptions of magnetized balls of gas. Seeing this activity in such detail could help scientists understand solar weather.Host Flora Lichtman talks with Parker Solar Probe project scientist Nour Rawafi about what these images show and how the probe could fundamentally change our understanding of the sun.Guest:Dr. Nour Rawafi is the Parker Solar Probe project scientist at the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory in Maryland.Transcripts for each episode are available within 1-3 days at sciencefriday.com.   Subscribe to this podcast. Plus, to stay updated on all things science, sign up for Science Friday's newsletters.