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Welcome Dream Team!  I think summer has finally found us! What do you like to do most in the summer? We love amusement parks. The bigger the roller coaster the better.  But something we have all wanted to do but haven't, is to check out an abandoned amusement parks, and today we each get to talk about our favorites. Follow us: @deadtotheworldpodcast and join our Facebook Group @DTTWdreamteam; Rate/Review us: iTunes, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Podchaser and Goodpods. Thank you, Lexi, Mama Dawn, & Tasha

In this conversation, we connect with Jonathan Lynch, Ph.D., a University Distinguished Professor in the Department of Plant Science at Pennsylvania State University. Dr. Lynch has been a professional in his field for 4 decades, receiving his Masters and Ph.D. in Plant Physiology from UC Davis, where he also completed his postdoctoral training. The global environment is constantly changing – which significantly impacts plant and soil health. As the head of the Roots Lab at Penn State, Dr. Lynch is on a mission to better understand the genetic, physiological, and ecological basis of plant adaptation to infertile soils. How does he achieve this? By meticulously studying the physiology, genetics, and ecology surrounding organismic processes… Tune in now to discover: How to improve the growth of plants in hard conditions.  The challenges that roots face in low-fertility soil.  Problems that soil fertilizers can pose.  The most important crops on Earth.  How climate change is affecting crop yield.  Join us now to dive into Dr. Lynch's fascinating journey through life and science! You can learn more about Dr. Lynch and his work with the Roots Lab by clicking here. Take advantage of a 5% discount on Ekster accessories by using the code FINDINGGENIUS. Enhance your style and functionality with premium accessories. Visit bit.ly/3uiVX9R to explore latest collection. Episode also available on Apple Podcasts: http://apple.co/30PvU9C

True Crime Personality and Psychology True Crime Psychology and Personality is a podcast that profiles criminal personalities, discusses personality disorders, and examines real life events from a scientifically informed perspective. Want more mental health content? Check out our other Podcasts:  Mental Health // Demystified with Dr. Tracey Marks  Healthy // Toxic Cluster B: A Look At Narcissism, Antisocial, Borderline, and Histrionic Disorders Here, Now, Together with Rou Reynolds Links for Dr. Grande Dr. Grande on YouTube Produced by Ars Longa Media Learn more at arslonga.media. Produced by: Christopher Breitigan and Erin McCue Executive Producer: Patrick C. Beeman, MD Legal Stuff The information presented in this podcast is intended for educational and entertainment purposes only and is not professional advice.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Chapter 7: Tim and Tara share an erotic voyeurism session. By LiminallySpaced. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Arriving back home, I stood on the front porch with two doors in front of me: The door to my unit, and the door to Stephanie's. I debated going up to Stephanie's, and finishing what we started in the limo; continuing our talk, but this time face to face. On her bed. With those long legs wrapped around me. With my cock deep in her cunt. [[MORE]] I reached for a handle. I opened the door to my unit and went in. Lying on my bed, my mind raced with the events of the evening. I listened hard in the dark silence, but heard nothing from Stephanie's unit upstairs. I thought about tomorrow. Sleep began to wash over me in a warm wave. Tara's lipstick matched my tie. Tim Licks His First Pussy, before going to a party. I awoke late Saturday, full of conflicted feelings. Lying there awake I tried to organize the events of the previous night in my mind. Stephanie, my step-sister's best friend, had been my date for the prom and, after an astounding display of erotic dominance, had sucked my dick in the limo. It was my first ever blowjob. She swallowed my cum, and then vanished, implying that she and I were not finished yet. Christine, my friend from church, the pastor's daughter, had secretly watched the whole thing, and later intimated to me that maybe she had been there before herself. However, despite those stimulating, erotic happenings, my mind was on Tara. In a moment of youthful stupidity I had put my foot way deep in my mouth, and I had deeply hurt one of my best friends. My mind may have been racing regarding everything going on, but the one thing I knew for sure was that I needed to make things right with her, above all else. As I took my morning piss, my eyes peeked through the blinds, and over at the bedroom window of my next door neighbor Sarah. There she sat, my biggest crush, brushing her wet hair, a towel wrapped around her. It wasn't the first time I had seen her like this, and my mind traveled back to last week, when Tara and I had shared a hot masturbation session watching Sarah drop her towel and get fucked hard by a mystery man, right there on her bed. I had watched the girl at the center of my most intense infatuations get her back splattered with spurting semen, yet the thing that put me over the edge that day was watching Tara, right next to me, finger herself to orgasm. We had shared a moment, and I don't think I truly appreciated what it had meant for either of us. Heading downstairs I found no sign of my step-mom Kelly, just a note stuck to the side of the fridge. "Went for a hike with Sandy, Don, and Brian," the first part of it read. Brian. She had been spending a lot of time with Brian lately. I didn't know much about him, but I knew what his cock looked like, as I had not too long ago seen Stephanie's mom Sandy on her knees with it in her mouth while her husband Don videotaped it. I wondered briefly if Kelly had seen that cock yet. Felt it. It was a fleeting thought though, as I knew Kelly, and in the years since my dad died she had hardly been on a single date, and spent much of her social time at church events. She surely wasn't the type. Although, I had been learning a lot recently about what church types could really be like, so who's to say what she was capable of. Reading the second part of the note, I stopped mid-bite of my apple. It wasn't the casual, "Love you - Kel" that she signed it with, but the bit that preceded it. The bit that said "Stephanie asked if you'd be able to pick her up from work tonight." The previous night's scene flashed across my mind. In a blatant power move, Stephanie had made me atone for eavesdropping on her sounds of orgasm by making me take out my cock and jerk off for her. As nervous as I was, the confidence she displayed in her dominant tone turned me on intensely. What I hadn't counted on was her finishing me off inside her hot mouth. On her knees in front of me, breasts bared, it was a position traditionally seen as submissive, but as my hot cum launched into her mouth, there was no question who was in charge. Then, her last words to me before disappearing, "you've still got a lot to make up for, and I'm not done with you yet," echoed in my mind. This girl had gone from my childhood tormentor to a friend, to, whatever this was now, and I found the mystery of the unknown in front of me both terrifying and intensely arousing. But there was still Tara. I called, and I texted, but there was no response. I honestly didn't expect one, and probably didn't deserve one. I thought about how jealous I had felt seeing her re-enter the dance with Bud Pepper on her heels. The thought that they had hooked up again ignited something in me that I wasn't ready for. I knew Tara was experienced, and not someone who shied away from her own carnal desires, but it had never bothered me before. It was only a few weeks ago that she had told me about her last encounter with Bud in graphic detail, recounting the specifics of his huge cock and the blow job that left her drenched in his cum, and I found it nothing but arousing. But I also knew that she left that encounter feeling degraded, and maybe that was part of it. Maybe seeing her respond to my equally degrading comments by running back to someone like that made me feel shame. Shame because we had shared a moment, electric and alive, orgasmic and pure, and I had ruined it by essentially calling her a slut. I cared about Tara, perhaps more than I realized, and I think maybe she had felt the same way. Until I ruined it. I needed to clear my head. I needed to go for a run. I was stretching on the front steps, head hung between my legs, my mind still in turmoil, when I heard Sarah's voice come from behind me. "You going running? she said. Bouncing back up I turned to meet her. Clad in a hot pink sports bra, tight, mid-thigh leggings, and white sneakers, she was putting her damp red hair back into a ponytail. "Yeah, great day for it, and I definitely need it," I responded, switching my stretch "Yeah, me too, especially after last night," she said offhandedly. Her hair was damp from the shower. Why was she going for a run AFTER a shower? Maybe she had just wanted to wash off all the makeup and hair product she had been covered in for the prom, but as she turned to stretch and I saw the flare of her curvy backside, I thought about what I had witnessed through her bedroom window the other day. I wondered if maybe she felt the need to wash something else off her body too. Now, I may have been a mental wreck, between thinking about Tara, Stephanie, and Christine, but I wasn't too blind to see an opportunity with the girl next door, the girl who I had spent most of my adolescence up to this point fantasizing about. "You want some company?" It was an innocent opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless. "Yeah, sure," she exclaimed invitingly, "lead the way!" We headed off down the road, and I introduced her to my usual path through backstreets, over old train tracks, through the wooded bike path toward the lake. We didn't say much as we ran, both of us focusing on pace and our breath. When Sarah would pull ahead, I couldn't help but admire her body as it worked. Her cute bouncing ponytail, her firing back muscles, her round ass packaged lovingly in tight spandex. Staring at her ass, it was then that I wondered if she knew, If any girl knew, how often the men they crossed paths with emptied their balls fantasizing about them. How behind even the most innocent of conversations was most likely at least one furious stroke session picturing all the lewd acts they could possibly perform. I'm sure even Christine's father, the pastor of our church, had pictured a member of the congregation, maybe Sandy, maybe my step-mom Kelly, hell, maybe even Rachel, on her knees for him alone on the occasional lonely night. Fleeting thoughts that lead to momentary release, and then disappear into the ether of a cleared mind. I had pictured Sarah's ass, the ass bouncing in front of me, many times, naked, arched up in front of me, her wet cunt dripping in anticipation of me sliding my hard cock inside. I had pictured her large, perfect tits wrapped around my cock as I fucked them. Pictured her body writhing around me as she spasmed in orgasm. Pictured her contented smile as she stroked my cum all over her face and neck and breasts. But that was fantasy, and this was real, and in this moment, those fantasies were nowhere in my mind. We were just two people enjoying a run. But I knew, later on, that the person would fade, and the fantasy would return. I would stroke, I would cum, and then it would be gone. Until the next time. Reaching the upper swell of the lake, we both stopped for water, and to stretch. No longer focused on the exertion at hand, we talked about the only thing we knew we had in common at that point. "So, two dates last night, huh?"she pulled her right arm across her ample bosom with her left in a stretch. "How'd that go?" I gave a dismissive snort. "It was, something," I said, mind drifting back to the night before, "I came with two and left with none." Technically I came with two, one made me cum, and left with none, but hey who's counting, right? "What about you, how was your night?" I asked, cordially. "It was, fun. It was a fun time." she said, rather conditionally. "Bill seems,” ; like a bit of a dickhead;  “ nice," I continued, "is he your boyfriend?" "I, don't know, honestly," she mused, switching arms in her stretch, "we've been kind of on again, off again for a long time, and he's a good time, but, I don't really think he's my type." My cock twitched. I knew exactly what she meant by a "good time." "Besides, with college starting so soon, I don't think I want any attachments, you know?" "Yeah," I said, bending my knee into a long quad stretch. "So how do you know Stephanie?" I lobbed, knowing the answer full well. "She lives next door, obviously, so we've hung out from time to time." Again I knew exactly what she meant, and felt a stirring in my loins. "Do you know,” I paused, contemplating whether or not I wanted things to get heavy. I chose to let it ride. “ why she left last night?" "She's a tricky one." Sarah bent over at the waist, hoisting her ass up in a way I had seen in my fantasies many times. "She has a hard time getting close to people. Are you into her?" The girl had just sucked my soul out through the tip of my penis, of course I was into her. , Right? "We have a complicated relationship" I offered up. Sarah just nodded silently. "Get used to it" My mind drifted at that point, and all the revolving elements that I was literally running from started to coalesce again. "Race you home!" Sarah exclaimed, almost as though she could tell I needed a distraction. We headed off toward home. Exhausted but happy, we sat on the front stairs of her house, chatting over some much-needed, ice cold waters. This girl had been in my fantasies for years, and this was by far the longest conversation I had ever had with her. We laughed, commiserated over school, learned what music and movies we agreed on, and just generally enjoyed each others company. She was a great person. As we stood up to part ways, she turned back toward me momentarily, and said something no one had ever said to me before: "Hey, there's some people getting together at The Spot tonight." my heart skipped a beat. "You should come." I contained my inner excitement as I got the first, and probably last, party invitation of my high school career. "Yeah, totally. Sounds good!" I managed to squeak out, playing it as cool as possible. Sarah smiled, gave me a "see you then," and headed inside. I thought about how nice she was as I made my way back into my own house. Minutes later, during my badly needed post prom, post run shower, I thought about how nice it would be to fuck her hard from behind, like Bill did. To feel her quiver and shake in orgasm, like Bill did. But unlike Bill, when it was time, she'd roll over, chest heaving from heavy breaths, and push her large breasts together just in time for me to paint them with my cum. Collarbone to pubic bone, this goddess of my fantasies was streaked with the contents of my two aching balls as her diaphragm grew and caved in breathless lust. I grunted as I stroked myself under the hot water. I came. I wondered if she knew. Despite being a very reasonable distance away, the drive to Stephanie's work felt long and arduous. I tried Tara again, but no answer, so of course she was all I could think about as my car cruised on. By the time I got to her coffeeshop I had practically forgotten why I was there in the first place. I had momentarily forgotten the stunning blow job and the promises of debts still yet to be paid. Parking in the lot, I texted Stephanie to tell her I had arrived. Moments later my phone buzzed with her response: "come inside." It was odd, but still innocuous, so thinking none of it, I made my way inside the shop. The sign on the door said closed, and peering through the window presented me with the low light and upturned chairs of a closed establishment, but the door wasn't locked, so I went inside. The shop was quiet and empty, and the inviting smell of fresh coffee had been replaced by the vague aroma of cleaning products. I looked around for Stephanie, but saw no one. "Hello?" I asserted loudly. Standing in the silence of no reply, I heard movement coming through the door of the stock room that stood adjacent to the area behind the counter. A figure moved into the doorway; it was Stephanie. Lit from behind by the store-room bulb, it cast a golden halo around her golden hair, done up in a messy bun. She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms just beneath her breasts, breasts that rested comfortably inside her form-fitting, button down shirt. Her long legs glimmered, extending down from beneath a mid-length, black tennis skirt. We stood in silence for a moment, until I offered a weak "Hi." Goddamn she looked good. She offered me no words in return, just a wry smile, an extended hand, and a single finger signaling me to follow her, before disappearing back into the store room. I entered into the dimly lit room, and found Stephanie facing me, resting herself on a table at the far end. Silence hung in the air between us again. I wondered if she ever played poker, as her mood was unreadable on her face as she looked at me. Arms still crossed across her breasts, her long legs stretched outward like a two lane runway. "Did you enjoy yourself last night?" She said finally, still standing like stone. It was a complicated question. At that moment I should have been thinking about Tara, about how I had hurt my friend, possibly damaging our relationship, but with Stephanie here in front of me, with those legs in front of me, my mind went immediately to the feeling of her hands stroking and coaxing my cock and balls, the feeling of her lips sliding up and down my shaft, to the hungry moan of approval she let out right before my cum flooded her mouth. "Yes," I said, never taking my eyes off her. "Then say what you need to say so we can move on." I wasn't sure what she meant in any sense. It was a cryptic command, so I responded with what I thought I needed to say. "I'm sorry," I started, "for invading your privacy and; " "No you're not," she said, cutting me off. "I'm not?" "No. You told me yourself how much you enjoyed it. How hard it got you. How it made you cum. You're not sorry for that, so why don't you tell me what you really want to say." I was taken aback and off guard. I had not expected that reaction, and it made me unsure of what to say. What Did I really want to say? I thought about her, I thought about the time we had spent together over the past few weeks, I thought about last night. "What I really want to say is, I really enjoyed the time we spent together recently, Stephanie. I loved getting to know you as a person, as more than just my step-sister's friend; getting to interact with you in a way that's not just trading barbs and blushing when you cut me too deep. Truth is, it killed me that I hurt you, because I was really happy that we had become friends, and I really want us to stay that way." She took a moment to process my words, or possibly to test my resolve. Then, still silent, still stoic, she uncrossed her arms. The light of the store room cast the acute shadows of two hard nipples pressing through her shirt. "What else do you want?" she said as she cocked her head to the side. "I want to spend more time with you," I choked out. "What else?" She repeated. "I, want more of what happened last night," I confessed, my mouth starting to dry up. "What else?" She repeated a final time. "I want,” I paused before saying the ultimate and total truth as defined by that moment. “ you." Her tongue snaked out across her lips as a wry smile formed. She had done nothing but stand there, and my cock was now rock hard. Then, slowly, each foot stepped out to the side, spreading her legs. It wasn't a lewd display, but it created a path. A path to forgiveness. A path to enlightenment. Then, she offered up only two words, but those words struck me, compelled me, as though they were some sort of mystical command. The same two words that started us down this path last night in the limo. Two words. "Show me." I don't even remember closing the distance between us, but the next thing I knew I had gone from yards away to inches away. Stephanie looked up at me, head still cocked to the side, lips parted ever so slightly. She smelled like coffee. I felt her hands move to the hem of her skirt. My eyes traveled down her long neck, swirling in the hollow of its nape, traipsing over her collarbone. I paused momentarily on her breasts; they were perky and full, and sat inside her tight shirt in such a comfortable way that I didn't think she was wearing a bra. The shadows cast off her hard nippeles drew my eyes down again, over her tight stomach down to her skirt, where her thumbs idly stroked the hem. Never taking her eyes off me, her hands slowly started to pull back, raising her skirt up her toned, smooth thighs. It was only an inch or so, but as each fraction appeared, my breath grew more ragged. The light poured shadow between her legs like a waterfall. I unconsciously licked my lips. Bringing my gaze back up to meet hers, something had started to come over me. Some sort of hunger. My mouth was no longer dry, on the contrary, I began to salivate. Looking at me through the tops of her eyes, she commanded me again. A slight sultry smirk slid its way onto her lips. She wet them both with her tongue, and through a languid whisper the words dripped their way out of her mouth: "Down, boy." Totally entranced by the commands of this siren before me, I slowly sank to my knees without question. The stone floor of the store room felt cold and hard beneath me, but I paid it no mind. I stared into the dark shadow between her golden legs and licked my lips again. My hands found Stephanie's legs, and I ran my hands up their length instinctively, grasping the swell of her calves. I had never touched Stephanie before this point. She had obviously touched me, and I had given her the odd shoulder nudge or some other platonic clap or pat, but this was different; on my knees in front of her temple my hands grasped and rubbed at her calves not like a friend, but like a lover. My breathing was ragged. My mouth was wet. My cock was iron. My trance momentarily broke as I felt a hand, her hand, slide up the side of my face. I tore my eyes away from the great unknown and looked up at this Amazon, this queen, before me. Her eyes locked on mine, her breasts rising and falling quickly as her own breath started to get away from her, the hand on my face snaked through my hair before landing just on the back of my head. Our eye contact was unbreakable now. I licked my lips one more time. I felt gentle pressure from her hand on the back of my head. I gave in to it and Stephanie drew my face into the shadow between her golden legs. I smelled her warm musk, a scent unlike anything I had ever experienced. Something indescribable, yet undeniable, and after a journey that could have been inches, or could have been lightyears, I felt the tickle of Stephanie's pubic hair on my nose and upper lip, followed by the warm press of her skin against my mouth. My tongue snaked out of its confines and instantly I felt the lips of her cunt. Stephanie's cunt. They were wide with arousal, and as my tongue began its exploration, I tasted the sweet, wet nectar that flowed from between them. Stephanie released a long exhale, and her hand grew tighter on my hair. I had never tasted cunt before, and its flavor was electric. Something primal in me wanted it. Needed it. I felt myself growl softly and my tongue picked up pace. But it wasn't just my tongue; It was my lips, my whole mouth. I lapped and suckled, spread my tongue ravenously all around her hot center, sucked her swollen cunt lips, teased her clit. Stephanie's hand grew tighter, and her breath started to come in sharp inhales and soft moans. My hands wildly slid over her legs as I feasted. I felt the firm, ropey muscles in her thighs that would twitch every time my tongue triggered a sensitive spot. Her hand still tight on my head, my face buried deep in her cunt, it still wasn't enough. I wanted more, and in a swift move I shifted forward, eliciting a surprised cry as I swung her right leg up over my shoulder. The move caught her off guard and she tipped backward, supporting herself on the table with one arm. A button popped on her tight shirt, exposing her right breast, and she held on for dear life. Her breathing was heavy and labored, accented by a short, erotic moan on each exhale. Her grip was tight on my hair, and her hand started moving. Tilting, shifting me around, she began to direct me, to focus me. When my tongue landed on her clit she let out a long, airy "Yesss" and held my head firm. Her hips began to move. Holding my head in place, my tongue and lips locked on to her pleasure button, she began to shift and gyrate. She ground her wet cunt onto my tongue and lips. She fucked my face. "Yes, oh, yes,” she started moaning, "that's it," a small squeal, "good boy, " My cock throbbed and I groaned deep into her cunt when she said that. She found her rhythm, my tongue now hitting all the right spots, and her moans became louder, more frequent. Her hips writhed harder, her leg over my shoulder began to shake. "Oh yes," she squealed again, "good boy" again, "good boy," again, "good boy!" Then all at once I was in familiar terrain. Her squealing, her moaning, her grunts of approval, all coalesced, funneling down into a single sound, a single moment, that I was intimately familiar with. Her whole body shook, she tensed tightly, and then a sound, a moan, of complete lust and release echoed out of her core like a symphony in three, erotically distinct movements: Short, Short, Long. Her body writhed, her cunt spasmed, and I held on for dear life as Stephanie, my step sister's best friend, the girl who spent years relentlessly teasing and torturing me, orgasmed explosively into my mouth. Sweet, warm, wetness cascaded over my lips and chin. It was a flavor both unfamiliar, yet somehow deeply recognizable. My tongue continued moving through her convulsions, attempting to prolong her pleasure to the best of my ability. Her eyes closed, her eyebrows arched, her mouth open in a tight "O" shape, I watched as the energy passed through her. She hunched over now, as the last ebbs worked their way out, and she had both hands in my hair. Then, when she couldn't take any more and the sensitivity was too much, she uttered an "Ok, ok!" and disengaged my still suckling mouth from her spent cunt. She pushed me off gently, and then slumped backward on the table, still chasing a calm breath. I stood up, wiping the rest of her cum off my mouth, and looked down at her. Legs shiny with sweat, still akimbo from weakness, leaning back on the table, one breast exposed and heaving through exhausted breath, stray shocks of blonde hair strewn about her beautiful face, obscuring one eye, It was the sexiest thing I had ever seen. "Was that Ok?" I asked, half honestly curious, half well aware of the answer. She looked at me silently, her poker face returning as she buttoned her shirt. She stood straight, patted her skirt, and brushed the hair away from her eye in an attempt to straighten herself out. She closed the distance between us, eyes roaming over me, inspecting me. She still smelled like coffee, but now it was mixed with an earthier, natural aroma. Our eyes locked in silence. My heart beat like a trip hammer. My cock throbbed in my pants, straining, begging for a repeat of last night, but never daring to request it. I was powerless, vibrating with horniness, caught in the tractor beam of her eyes. It was a dominant stare, a stare that instructed me that I hadn't made her cum, that she had only allowed me to be a part of her orgasm. That it was a privilege that could be revoked. Then in a clearing of her throat, breaking the trance state we were in, one hand reached up and wiped a stray smear of her own cum off my cheek, and she said "I'll see you in the car." She walked past me, out of the store room, and into the cool night, leaving me flabbergasted and hard as calculus. The ride home was silent. I was too shaken by what had just happened to talk. Stephanie rode with her back to the passenger side door, her long legs stretched across the bench seat of my sedan, white sneakers resting across my thigh. It wasn't just a position of comfort; she was marking her territory. Reminding me. Parking the car when we got home, we exited the car with no words passing between us. I watched her walk toward her front door, her tight, athletic ass sashaying the hem of her skirt back and forth. A skirt I had just had my head under, which draped over legs I had just had my face between, had felt vibrate and spasm around me as she orgasmed. With all the force I could muster up, as though I were sending an interplanetary message, I launched a too-loud "Hey!" out of my mouth as she mounted the stairs. She said nothing, just turned back to look at me with that same cocked-eyebrow poker face. "There's a party at The Spot tonight, if you wanted to come," I offered up. She paused for a moment in consideration, and then answered a solitary "Maybe." Continuing up the stairs she disappeared into her unit. I rushed into my unit with the intention to relieve the seismic pressure built up in my balls, but was deterred when I found my step-mom Kelly sitting at the dining room table having a drink. With Brian. Neither one of them were wearing their hiking gear, so this was definitely a post-hike, post-shower, second hang out. You might call it a date even. Suddenly my one track mind was diverted, and I joined them for a friendly chat. I normally wouldn't have injected myself into my step-mom's potential love life, afterall she deserves love as much as anyone, maybe even more. Perhaps that's why I did it. Perhaps it was because I knew what Brian was about. I had seen his thick, veiny cock pump hot semen into the mouth of Kelly's best friend Sandy in a kinky threesome of some kind, and perhaps the thought of such a hulk pawing and grunting over my gentle, sweet, step mother just didn't sit well with me. She deserved more than that, and I wanted her to be happy. But then again, as I watched them interact, she clearly enjoyed his company, smiling and laughing in a way that I hadn't seen since before my dad had died. Maybe she was happy, and I should just butt out. I lost track of time, doing my best to wait Brian out until he decided to leave. Ultimately I blinked first, and had to say my goodbyes and rush to get ready to go to the party. As I quickly showered, only then did I wonder if Brian or Kelly could smell Stephanie on me. I remembered the taste of Stephanie's cunt. My cock twitched, but there was no time. Driving out to The Spot, I had no idea what to expect. It was my first high school party, possibly my last, and I wanted to make the best of it. I thought about Sarah, and whether she'd be there with Bill, or alone, and if maybe I should try to continue what I started with her if she was flying solo. I thought about Stephanie, and whether I'd be able to function if she showed up, or if I'd freeze, still reeling from the day's events. And then I thought about Tara. There was a chance Tara might be there, and if she was, maybe I could finally talk to her. Parking my car in the field next to the others, I took a deep breath and headed down a path through the woods. Loud chatter could be heard up ahead, and an orange glow flickered in front of my eye from far away. I traveled toward it and it grew bigger, finally revealing a sizable bonfire in the center of a clearing. Kids lingered around it and near it, drinks in hand, chatting, laughing, reveling, and it was, awesome. There had been nothing to fear;  I was handed a beer by a smiling classmate of mine immediately upon arrival, and was welcomed to the party. I scanned the crowd with no luck looking for Sarah, but I quickly caught sight of Mike and Kerri, who waved me over gleefully. They were talking with a bubbly, bleached blonde who I didn't recognize from school. She was introduced to me as Kerri's cousin Mandy, and she was a tiny firecracker of a girl. Kerri was a small girl, but Mandy was tiny. Topping out at five-foot-nothing, she had a smile that was brighter than the bonfire, and she wasn't stingy with its application. She wore a loose-fitting sweater that hung off the cliffs of breasts that seemed too large for her tiny frame. They sat high and hard, pushing considerable cleavage up past the neckline of her sweatshirt, a neckline cut so wide that it slid down off her shoulder slightly, revealing a black bra strap. Tight leggings ran down over a large, hard, cushion of an ass and solid-looking thighs before dipping into the tops of tall cowboy boots. Much like her tits, this was an ass that seemed exceptional for her frame. These gifts of physique I would later find out were thanks to years of competitive gymnastics and cheerleading. Mandy and I hit it off, and once we learned we were going to the same college next year we bonded; I'm sure it was because we knew it would be nice to have a familiar face ready for the excursion out into the world that was coming. It was easy to make her laugh, and addicting when she did. Mandy was an open book, showing no hesitancy in talking about herself or her life, like how she got breast implants as soon as she turned 18 to help with body image after recovery from an eating disorder. She didn't keep secrets, and she didn't want you to either. We were so focused on each other that we didn't even realize that Mike and Kerri had moved on, leaving us to chat amongst ourselves. Feeling the call of nature, I reluctantly excused myself, and headed out into the woods to take a leak on the promise that I would be right back with more drinks. A beaming smile, and a "can't wait," from her later, I was floating out into the trees looking for a secluded spot to do my business. I decompressed this feeling as I relieved myself; I had met someone, someone real, someone new, someone who wasn't a friend or a neighbor I'd known for years, someone I connected with in a way that seemed mutual. It was exciting. Tucking myself away, I turned to head back when I heard a snap, and a low, muffled grunt. Curious, I took a step in its direction, pausing, waiting for another signifier. I didn't wait long, as low, deliberate breaths fluttered through the air. I walked quietly toward the sounds, toward a gathering of large boulders. As I peeked my head between two of them I saw two figures, not fifteen feet away, huddled by one of the other large rocks. As my eyes adjusted further to the dark I recognized them; it was Mike and Kerri. I could only see the back of Kerri, however; while the larger Mike leaned back against the stiff rocks, the diminutive Kerri was on her knees in front of him. The labored breaths were coming from Mike, and I watched Kerri's curly mane of black hair bob back and forth as she sucked his cock. Her hands ran up and down his legs as her head moved in a tempoed, rhythmic pattern, slowly and lovingly coaxing him closer and closer toward orgasm. My own cock twitched, suddenly remembering my delayed release from earlier, but I made no attempt to use their intimate moment for my own pleasure. I had other things on my mind, and besides, these were my friends; I was happy for them and they deserved their privacy. I smiled, and then headed back to the party, leaving them, leaving Mike, to finish. Returning to the party, I scanned the crowd for Mandy as I headed toward the drinks. Clearly a social butterfly, I found her looking right at home chatting with Suzie Travino. I admired her for a moment, taking in the tease of her exposed shoulder through her sweatshirt, the way her ass wiggled as she switched her weight from one foot to the other. Looking over toward me she all at once caught my gaze, flashed me that luminescent smile, and waved. I began to melt. I waved back, but as I started over to join her again, I tensed up immediately as my eyes fell on two new arrivals as they were lit up by the fire's glow; it was Sarah, and alongside her was a ravishing vision. It was Stephanie. She came. My cock twitched. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down onto the shoulders of a black leather jacket. Her breasts pushed against a white t-shirt underneath, and her long, nyloned legs grew from the tops of fashionable boots up into the cuffs of cut off shorts that hugged close to her crotch. Stephanie had come to this high school party and, much like the prom, she had dressed to impress. Stephanie made eye contact with me, but continued walking, making no effort to acknowledge my presence; I was iced out completely. I thought of Rachel and her "Ew, gross!" exclamation. I sipped my beer and reflected on the moment. I thought about how not a few hours earlier I had tasted her cunt, had made her cum, and now it was like I didn't exi; "Hey, you get lost?" I heard a voice say with a giggle, snapping me out of my trance. Looking in its direction I was greeted again by that smile, Mandy's smile, and contentment returned. "Yeah, a little bit," I said wistfully. "Better stick by me then," she smiled, "The woods can be dangerous without a buddy!" We chuckled and I took a moment to take in this petite light ray of a girl. Feeling some sort of energy between us, I decided to attempt something I'd never attempted before. "Hey, it's pretty loud here, do you want to; " But I was thwarted. "Who's this, Timmy?" Stopping mid-sentence, I looked over to see Stephanie standing right near me, practically inserting herself between Mandy and me. I was too caught off guard by the intrusion to form an answer. There was a look in her eyes I couldn't place. A meanness. "Hi, I'm Mandy," she said, hand outstretched, smile beaming once again. Stephanie shook her hand and smiled dimly, "Stephanie," was all she said. "How do you guys know each other?" Mandy inquired. "Oh Timmy and I go way back," Stephanie began through a Cheshire cat grin, "He's my best friend's little brother." I tried to interject and save myself further emasculation, but Stephanie cut me off again. "You know, I couldn't find the drinks, Timmy, why don't you be a friend and get me one?" I was halfway to the drinks before I realized I hadn't even questioned Stephanie's request. I had just made myself look like a chump in front of Mandy, a new girl who I felt like I had a connection with. Turning back from the table with a second drink, I noticed Stephanie and Mandy had parted company. Mandy was chatting with a returned Mike and Kerri, and Stephanie had simply disappeared into the crowd. Suddenly I heard a chuckle from behind me. It was Sarah. "You saw that, huh?" I said, mortified. "Brutal," she said in return. She reached toward me, and tapped the rim of her cup to mine. "Remember what I said," she intoned as we both took a drink, "get used to it." A smile and a sultry eyebrow raise followed as a chaser, and then Sarah drifted off into the crowd. The rest of the party was uneventful, and despite rejoining Mike, Kerri and Mandy, I never again had the opportunity to have Mandy to myself. We chatted in a group, and occasionally my gaze would cast across the crowd, and through the orange flickers of firelight I thought I would catch Stephanie watching me. In the middle of a particular anecdote, I seemingly struck a vein of hilarity, as Mandy broke out in uproarious laughter. There's nothing in the world that sky rockets the self esteem quite like making a beautiful girl laugh, and the feeling of her hand on my arm sliding from bicep to wrist sent me an electric message that even I wasn't dumb enough to miss. Which was why it was so much more deflating to hear Stephanie's voice from behind. "How's about a ride home, Timmy?" The laughter died down, and we stood there awkwardly for a moment. Truth be told the party was winding down, but I wanted to milk these moments with Mandy for as much as I could. Still, I didn't want to be totally rude to Stephanie and look like a jerk, either. "Sure, when did you want to go?" I said, as a courtesy. "Now is good," Stephanie replied. My stomach dropped; she called my bluff. "Sure, Stephanie," I demurred, and I began to say my goodbyes. Before I could get over my awkwardness enough to ask Mandy for her number, however, I felt a hand on my wrist, and a pull away from my friends. The vision of Mandy faded into the dimming light of the fire as Stephanie led me back toward the car. The drive home was once again silent, but for a different reason now. I was fuming. I had hoped to see Mandy again in the future, but after that display from Stephanie, chances seemed very unlikely. I could always get Mandy's number from Kerri, but I was now too embarrassed to ask. I kept my eyes firmly on the road ahead - I didn't even want to look at Stephanie. The old Stephanie had come out tonight, the one who got nothing but pure joy from embarrassing and debasing me, and I was angry. I pulled my car into park on the dark street beside our building. Silence hung thick in the air between us. "Mandy seemed nice," Stephanie finally said. I felt my blood pressure rise as the words hit my ears. I looked over at Stephanie as she nonchalantly gathered up her things, getting ready to leave. This was it; she had been jerking me around for two days, reveling in every bit of power she lorded over me, but this was the last straw. She grabbed her purse off the floor, mindlessly checking her phone as my eyes dug daggers into her I had too much self respect to let Stephanie walk all over me the way she always had, regardless of anything that had happened between us. I was going to give her a piece of my mind, I was going to; I heard the dry squawk of fabric on leather as Stephanie slid across the long bench seat of my car, sidling up next to me, and in the same motion, with the same mindless detachment afforded to picking up a purse or checking a phone, Stephanie reached down and began to unfasten my belt and pants. Too shocked, or maybe too horny, to protest, I sat still as she spread the top of my pants wide. Her hand then reached in through the opening of my underwear and fished out my rapidly hardening cock. I felt the cool air pass over the sensitive skin. Stephanie's attitude never changed, even as her hand started sliding up and down my shaft at a moderate pace. This wasn't the slow, deliberate blowjob from last night, nor was it frantic and quick with lust. It was a deliberate, efficient, pump-pump-pump. My balls were boiling, and I started to moan. Still backed up and without the release necessary after the events of earlier in the day, they were heavy and full, and began to twitch and shift as Stephanie's continued her ministrations. Pump-pump-pump My body was overwhelmed by the sensations of her consistent, deliberate tempo. Her fingers slid up and over the ridges of my cockhead over, and over, and over again, all with her expression never changing. Pump-pump-pump Precum trickled down my length, over her nimble fingers Pump-pump-pump My balls were pulling tight toward my body. Pump-pump-pump I felt the pressure start to coil down into the base of my cock. Pump-pump-pump My hips started to shift and thrust , Pump-pump-pump, , pump-pump-pump, , pump-pump-pump, Something deep inside snapped, and I threw my head back. I felt a long, tight squeeze in my balls, and then they started to spasm and bounce as hot, white cum erupted out of me in a torrent, pumping deep and hard out of my cockhead. , Pump-pump-pump, I tried to let out a moan, but I was so overcome by the sudden onset of such intense sensation that all I could muster were gasps. , pump-pump-pump, Stephanie had tipped my cock back toward my body right before I came, so now the whole front of my shirt was splattered and wet as she coaxed more and more jizz out of my frustrated balls. Pump-pump-pump My spent cock throbbed, my cum slowed to a slight dribble, and then as quickly as it all began, it was over. The feeling of her hand on my cock was gone, and my eyes cracked open as I felt her drag it across my jean-clad thigh, once, then again. Still cum-drunk and bewildered, I looked over at Stephanie. Even after pulling a flood of cum out of my balls, nothing in her demeanor changed. She gathered her things, shimmied back to the passenger side door, and before pulling the handle, looked back at me. "Pick me up from work next Saturday, same time." It wasn't a request, it was a command. All I could muster in reply was a hoarse "no problem," and with that she was gone. I sat there quietly, mind blank, covered neck to groin in my own semen. My head lolled back, I shut my eyes, and I let out a long, slow breath. Chapter 8: Tim Finally learns what happened to Tara at the prom. Sitting in the church pew, eyes closed, head hung in supposed prayer, the pastor's words made no impression on me. I didn't even register them AS words, just sonic background noise wafting over me as my mind conjured explicit images inappropriate for any public gathering, let alone a house of worship. I remembered how Stephanie's legs trembled and shook as her sweet cum flooded my mouth. How her hand grasped and pulled at my hair, the same hand that hours later so cavalierly stroked me to an explosive orgasm. I thought about Mandy, the bubbly ray of sunshine, but only briefly. My mind quickly returned to the feeling of Stephanie's hand on my cock, or her cunt on my tongue, any time something new caused it to stray. Good boy. She called me "Good boy." There I sat, in church, in the middle of a prayer, hard as a fucking rock. The post-church hang out with Christine, the pastor's daughter, helped clear my head, though, as I could focus on someone else other than myself. I was horny, I was curious, and I had some questions about the rest of prom night with Christine and Bobby Dorf after we left. But Christine spoke up first. "Looks like Kelly's got a new friend, huh?" she said, taking a long pull from her milkshake. She of course spoke of Brian, who had joined my step mom Kelly at church today, this time without Sandy and Don. "Yeah, I guess," I intoned flatly. Christine and I were enjoying our ice cream at picnic tables off to the side of the ice cream parlor, and I definitely didn't want to be thinking about Kelly's love life while we did it. "Is that her boyfriend?" Christine asked. "No idea, but it kinda seems like it," I responded flatly again. "That's great, she deserves it." Chrstine could sense my lack of enthusiasm. "You don't seem too thrilled about it; is he a jerk or something?" "Nah, he's fine," I said with some flair, trying to break my stoicism. It wasn't a lie. The truth was, in fact, that no, he wasn't a jerk. I had spent over an hour talking with him and Kelly the previous night, looking for cracks, looking for reasons to hate the guy, but he actually seemed pretty great. If he were any other guy I'd be thrilled. Any other guy whom I hadn't seen tit fucking Kelly's best friend Sandy and cumming on her face while her husband Don filmed it. He was perfectly nice, kinda great, even, but I was very protective of Kelly, and I didn't trust Brian's intentions. "He's fine, I'm just, trying to get used to it." Also true. I had been the only man in Kelly's life since dad died, and though I knew this day would eventually come, I wasn't altogether prepared for someone else to enter into the picture. "Yeah, I understand," Christine said, reaching out her hand to place it lovingly over mine in support. She smiled brightly at me, and I back at her. She looked so gorgeous. The slight breeze made the edges of her long, brown hair dance across her pronounced collar bone. This week's split personality ensemble consisted of plain slacks on the bottom, and a tight button down blouse on top. The blouse had been buttoned up high during the church service, but the moment she dropped into the front seat of my car, her fingers quickly popped three buttons open, and I heard a sigh of relief as the cool, spring air spread over her emancipated décolletage. Even now, as she smiled at me with warmth and support, my thoughts flew to the cleavage I could see through the opening of her shirt. Christine had modest breasts, but even so the slight swell peeking out made my cock stir. Even more than her breasts, however, was the hint of black, lace bra I could see holding them. It was sheer and delicate, and even with that small hint I knew: Christine, the pastor's daughter, had worn lingerie to church. Immediately my dirty mind had questions. How much lingerie did she have? What kinds? Who had had the pleasure of seeing it? Had Bobby? I decided I needed to at least try and find out. "So," I said, attempting to move the focus off of me, "how was the rest of your night after the prom?" "It was, fine," she said. Now it was her turn to deflect with flat intonation. "Come on, what does fine mean?" I pressed. "It means it was, fine." She repeated. She showed no signs of embarrassment, so I had a feeling nothing scandalous happened, but even so, I wanted to get to the bottom of her dour tone. "You gotta give me more than that! There's no reason to be shy, especially not after what you saw!" Her cheeks blushed. There was the shyness. "I didn't see anything!" This of course was a lie. Christine had watched through the slight opening of the limo window as Stephanie sucked my dick. I caught her act of voyeurism as I was cumming, and we made eye contact as hot semen pulsed into Stephanie's throat. She even commented breathlessly on Stephanie's performance later that night as we slow-danced. It was safe to say she saw something, and what's more, I think it turned her on. Maybe that's what she was embarrassed about. Needless to say, I found her girlish denial extremely sexy. "Oh, you saw something, alright," I teased, "the question is, what'd BOBBY see?" "Nothing!" "Ah of course, I forgot who I was talking about - the king and queen of chaste virtue!" She laughed and dropped her shaking head into her hands, embarrassed. "you guys just left the prom and sat quietly for a while, right," I continued to push, "did you do some knitting or something?" "Fine, fine!" She exclaimed at last through an embarrassed chuckle. I could see the tops of her breasts bounce ever so slightly when she laughed. "After the prom, Bobby drove me home. After we parked, I leaned over to say thanks and give him a peck on the cheek goodnight kiss, but I guess we were both kinda worked up, " Gee, I wonder why? “ and we started making out." "That doesn't sound so bad," I said, cheerily. It was hard to imagine Bobby Dorf making out with anyone, let alone a smokeshow like Christine, but here we were. "No, that wasn't the problem, the problem was, " I thought I saw her nipples start to harden through her shirt. “ the problem was that I got a little too carried away and reached down and grabbed his, you know, through his pants." "Ooh, well now!" I exclaimed, my eyebrows shooting sky high. "It gets worse though," she said, rubbing her temple with her fingers, "when I touched him, he, slapped my hand like he was swatting a fly." She revealed this through a wincing face, as though she were waiting for some kind of cosmic punishment. "Like you were a bad dog?" I marveled. "Yeah, basically,” she lamented. "Well," I started, pausing as I collected my thoughts, "that's what you wanted, wasn't it? Someone to lead you not into temptation?" Christine bit her thumb as she listened to me test her resolve. "Someone, nice?" Nibbling her nail slightly she nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's what I said. That's what I, want." The lacy fringe of her black bra was visible as the breeze pushed the open wings of her shirt around on her chest. "When's his prom?" I inquired. "Next weekend." "Well there you go, plenty of time to cool down and try again," I assured her, "you'll be fine." she nodded again, lost in thought. Her nipples pushed hard against her blouse. I'd be lying if I said Christine wasn't in my thoughts that night as I stroked my cock. Despite everything that had happened in the last few days, Christine's crisis of carnal repression was endlessly arousing to me. She was clearly horny as hell, and Bobby Dorf had probably made the biggest mistake of his life by shutting her down. Stopping her from touching his dick. From pulling it out of his pants and stroking it. From dropping her salivating mouth down over its head and slurping wildly up and down. I knew she wouldn't have fucked him, but would she let him cum in her mouth? Would she swallow? My mind then shifted to the party at The Spot; to Mike and Kerri hidden away among the rocks while Kerri sucked Mike's cock. I wondered if that was all they did, or if Mike had stood her up and turned her around and slid into her from behind. I wondered if he had felt her cunt around his cock yet, and in my fantasies of course he was bareback, and of course she screamed in ecstasy as he coated her inner walls with hot spunk. Then there was Mandy. The bubbly petite blonde with the big natural smile and the big fake tits. I imagined it was her and me out by the rocks, not Mike and Kerri, and it was Mandy on her knees sucking on my cock for a while before she climbed on top and rode me hard while my hands got a firm grasp on her amazing, toned ass, culminating in her giggling that infectious, excited giggle as I painted her big fake tits with my seed. I grunted, I tensed, I came. I wonder if she knew. I had looked forward to the coming week because I figured Tara could only avoid me for so long, but turns out she was much better at it than I expected. I hardly caught any glimpses of her throughout the days, and when I did, she was hanging around with Bud Pepper. What's more, she seemed to be enjoying it! Something had happened at the prom between them that moved Bud from the "two time dud" column to someone she actually wanted to spend time with, and that low pang deep inside me returned every time I saw them. We had class with Ms. Dorman twice this week, and I figured that gave me two chances to try and make amends. However, Ms. Dorman and I were both surprised when Tara was nowhere to be seen at the first class of the week. She popped in just before the bell, looking rather out of sorts, so she could be marked as having attended, but trying to approach her was no good, as she was gone as quickly as she arrived. On Thursday I sat there alone again, watching the clock, and sure enough Tara breezed in with seconds left before the bell. This time, however, I was ready to go after her. We needed to talk, and I was tired of being in the dark with one of my best friends. The bell rang, and I waded into the sea of transitioning students in pursuit of Tara. Pushing through the current, I got close, and shouted her name desperately. She stopped and turned toward me, but before I could say anything, she started to head off again. "Tara, PLEASE," I practically shouted after her. She stopped. She turned. "Please, Tara," I begged, "please talk to me. I miss you." We stood in silence as the river of students ran around us. "Tomorrow," She said finally, "my house." I exhaled a breath I felt I had been holding for a year, and nodded. We took one last look at each other and then Tara continued on into the flow of students. Tomorrow. Ok. It was a start. The school day crawled by on Friday, but it eventually ended. When I got home, I chatted with Kelly and had dinner. It didn't even bother me that Kelly was headed out to meet up with Brian because my mind was focused on one thing only: that evening's talk with Tara. Three knocks on the front door of her house. My stomach dropped as I waited for an answer. I was nervous. We had known each other for years, but I was still nervous. I didn't know what to expect, whether she was just going to scream at me, whether she would even say anything at all. After what felt like forever her door finally opened, and there stood Tara. She was dressed comfortably in lounge shorts and a black tank top. The white strap of her bra peeked out beneath the shoulders of her top. No hug, not even a "hi," she just looked at me, then left the door open for me to follow as she headed down the stairs into the basement. Not off to a great start. The lighting was low and moody, and despite it being a room I had spent many hours in, at that moment the normally cozy basement felt foreign and unfamiliar. Tara seated herself at the far end of the couch and waited for me to join her. The tension was obvious, so I sat in the lazy boy across from her. She said nothing. I didn't know what to say myself, my mind racing, my stomach in knots, and so in silence we sat. I knew she wasn't going to make the first move. I had to do what I came here to do: talk. A sound started deep in my chest and gurgled up my throat into my cotton-dry mouth, and I couldn't stop it as it birthed itself out. I didn't even realize what I had said until the last syllable left my lips. It was the last thing I ever would have dared to say, but it also was the one thing I knew might bridge the gap between us. "Truth or Dare." Silence. A long silence that left me adrift in my own stupi; "Truth." The word echoed in my ears. I wasn't sure where to begin. There were so many things I wanted to know, so many questions I had, but at that moment only one made sense to me. "I hurt you, didn't I? When I said you had fucked half the people in class?" There was a long pause, and then a simple "Yes." "I am so sorry, Tara," I started, all the apologetic word-vomit pushing its way up out of my mouth, "I never meant to, it was just; " "Truth or dare," she interjected, cutting me off. I was caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, and after collecting my thoughts I responded with a simple "Truth." I expected another long pause, but Tara was ready with her question, and delivered it pointedly: "Did you know I was a virgin?" I heard the words, but they did not compute. "What?" "Did you know I was a virgin?" She repeated "I, no." I wanted to follow up, but I also wanted to play by the rules. "Truth or Dare?" "Truth." "All your stories, how is that possible?" This time she did pause. "I, made no secret that my hands, my mouth, were all ready and willing, and it was all loads of fun, but I'd never,” the pause came back. “ I'd never gone all the way. I wanted that one to be for me. For someone special." She was staring me dead in the eye. At the prom, her lipstick matched my tie. "Tara I'm sorry, I; " again she cut me off. "Truth or dare?" she said, my eyes never leaving hers. "Truth." "What happened when you went to meet Stephanie in the limo?" It was my turn to hesitate. My stomach dropped again. Normally I would have loved to have regaled her with a salacious story of my own for once, but there was a slight sadness to her voice as she had asked. "I tried to apologize to her, but she said we weren't equal yet. That I had heard her cum, but she hadn't heard me cum. She told me to jerk off for her - so I did." Tara's legs shifted against each other as I spoke. "Then when I was getting close she told me to stop," I said, searching Tara's face for any signal to stop. I saw none. “ and she took off the top of her dress and she sucked my cock. I came in her mouth." "Did she swallow?" Tara offered quickly. "Yes," I said, bending the rules of the game. The silence returned, and Tara's gaze fell to the ground. Tara's Secret "Truth or Dare, Tara." I said, breaking the silence. There was more going on here, and I needed to get to the bottom of it. "Truth." She asserted, looking back up at me. There was only one thing I needed to know: "At the prom, where did you go? What happened with you and Bud?" Tara brought one hand up to her face, and bit her nail nervously as she decided where and how to begin. "You know, people talk, people say things," she began, "people call me a slut, think I'm easy, and I really do my best not to let it get to me. Honestly it's made high sc

R. Marcus Rubenstein's sermon from Shabbat morning services on April 13th 2024 on parshat Tazria as a charge to Bar Mitzvahm, Sam Sperling, at Temple of Aaron Sanctuary.

What's up everybody, it's Thomas Bahamas and you are here for another episode of Solana Weekly.Sol Price: 175.98Sol Eth: .05223 Sol BTC: .0025 Overall take on market: Volatility is here. Ups and downs - 205 down to 170's is a pretty big range, we're sitting at the bottom of that range and I'm buying. To the market:W Token - We got the Wormhole airdrop. Hot dog token taking over. Sanctum - INF lst token, potential airdrop. Holding a good amount in this because the yield is over 10% without any leverage.Zeus airdrop today, nim airdrop coming soon, kmno releasing the amount of tokens you get with a pre release price of $.15/ token. I found out that I have something like $500 at this rate and demand a recount.Ores - proof of work mining and crushing the network.Count down to halvening - under 20 days, historically we've seen over 10x's after this event, how do we play it?1.18 features being released.NFT nyc - send wif to 0, no one went to their party and the dancing was amazing.Degraded performance - we hate it, it's coming back.Sbf sentenced to 25 years. Crazy, but you think about all the damage he did to people and yea. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thomasbahamas.substack.com

Jodie had everything - a good job, great friends and a busy social life. But her world was turned upside down when she was targeted by an online abuser who posted pornographic deepfakes of her online. Initially turned away by the police, she turned detective herself - but nothing could prepare her for what she eventually discovers. She now struggles to trust anyone. And what happened to Jodie could happen to any of us. Here she tells her story for the very first time. Reporter: Kate West Producer: Rhoda Buchanan Technical Producer: Nicky Edwards Digital Producer: Melanie Stewart-Smith Production Co-ordinator: Tim Fernley Editor: Carl JohnstonIf you've been a victim of harassment, stalking or revenge porn, details of organisations offering information and support are available at bbc.co.uk/actionline.

A dramatic reading by Jason Louv of the 1819 poem "The Fall of Hyperion—A Dream" by John Keats, set to music by Jason. Not uncommon for the 19th century, it is awash in occult and Hermetic symbolism.  Show Links Magick.Me Magick.Me's Fast-Growing YouTube Channel: Like and Subscribe!!!   The full text of the poem follows: "The Fall of Hyperion—A Dream" John Keats CANTO I Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave A paradise for a sect; the savage too From forth the loftiest fashion of his sleep Guesses at Heaven; pity these have not Trac'd upon vellum or wild Indian leaf The shadows of melodious utterance. But bare of laurel they live, dream, and die; For Poesy alone can tell her dreams, With the fine spell of words alone can save Imagination from the sable charm And dumb enchantment. Who alive can say, 'Thou art no Poet may'st not tell thy dreams?' Since every man whose soul is not a clod Hath visions, and would speak, if he had loved And been well nurtured in his mother tongue. Whether the dream now purpos'd to rehearse Be poet's or fanatic's will be known When this warm scribe my hand is in the grave. Methought I stood where trees of every clime, Palm, myrtle, oak, and sycamore, and beech, With plantain, and spice blossoms, made a screen; In neighbourhood of fountains, by the noise Soft showering in my ears, and, by the touch Of scent, not far from roses. Turning round I saw an arbour with a drooping roof Of trellis vines, and bells, and larger blooms, Like floral censers swinging light in air; Before its wreathed doorway, on a mound Of moss, was spread a feast of summer fruits, Which, nearer seen, seem'd refuse of a meal By angel tasted or our Mother Eve; For empty shells were scattered on the grass, And grape stalks but half bare, and remnants more, Sweet smelling, whose pure kinds I could not know. Still was more plenty than the fabled horn Thrice emptied could pour forth, at banqueting For Proserpine return'd to her own fields, Where the white heifers low. And appetite More yearning than on earth I ever felt Growing within, I ate deliciously; And, after not long, thirsted, for thereby Stood a cool vessel of transparent juice Sipp'd by the wander'd bee, the which I took, And, pledging all the mortals of the world, And all the dead whose names are in our lips, Drank. That full draught is parent of my theme. No Asian poppy nor elixir fine Of the soon fading jealous Caliphat, No poison gender'd in close monkish cell To thin the scarlet conclave of old men, Could so have rapt unwilling life away. Among the fragrant husks and berries crush'd, Upon the grass I struggled hard against The domineering potion; but in vain: The cloudy swoon came on, and down I sunk Like a Silenus on an antique vase. How long I slumber'd 'tis a chance to guess. When sense of life return'd, I started up As if with wings; but the fair trees were gone, The mossy mound and arbour were no more: I look'd around upon the carved sides Of an old sanctuary with roof august, Builded so high, it seem'd that filmed clouds Might spread beneath, as o'er the stars of heaven; So old the place was, I remember'd none The like upon the earth: what I had seen Of grey cathedrals, buttress'd walls, rent towers, The superannuations of sunk realms, Or Nature's rocks toil'd hard in waves and winds, Seem'd but the faulture of decrepit things To that eternal domed monument. Upon the marble at my feet there lay Store of strange vessels and large draperies, Which needs had been of dyed asbestos wove, Or in that place the moth could not corrupt, So white the linen, so, in some, distinct Ran imageries from a sombre loom. All in a mingled heap confus'd there lay Robes, golden tongs, censer and chafing dish, Girdles, and chains, and holy jewelries. Turning from these with awe, once more I rais'd My eyes to fathom the space every way; The embossed roof, the silent massy range Of columns north and south, ending in mist Of nothing, then to eastward, where black gates Were shut against the sunrise evermore. Then to the west I look'd, and saw far off An image, huge of feature as a cloud, At level of whose feet an altar slept, To be approach'd on either side by steps, And marble balustrade, and patient travail To count with toil the innumerable degrees. Towards the altar sober paced I went, Repressing haste, as too unholy there; And, coming nearer, saw beside the shrine One minist'ring; and there arose a flame. When in mid May the sickening East wind Shifts sudden to the south, the small warm rain Melts out the frozen incense from all flowers, And fills the air with so much pleasant health That even the dying man forgets his shroud; Even so that lofty sacrificial fire, Sending forth Maian incense, spread around Forgetfulness of everything but bliss, And clouded all the altar with soft smoke, From whose white fragrant curtains thus I heard Language pronounc'd: 'If thou canst not ascend 'These steps, die on that marble where thou art. 'Thy flesh, near cousin to the common dust, 'Will parch for lack of nutriment thy bones 'Will wither in few years, and vanish so 'That not the quickest eye could find a grain 'Of what thou now art on that pavement cold. 'The sands of thy short life are spent this hour, 'And no hand in the universe can turn 'Thy hourglass, if these gummed leaves be burnt 'Ere thou canst mount up these immortal steps.' I heard, I look'd: two senses both at once, So fine, so subtle, felt the tyranny Of that fierce threat and the hard task proposed. Prodigious seem'd the toil, the leaves were yet Burning when suddenly a palsied chill Struck from the paved level up my limbs, And was ascending quick to put cold grasp Upon those streams that pulse beside the throat: I shriek'd; and the sharp anguish of my shriek Stung my own ears I strove hard to escape The numbness; strove to gain the lowest step. Slow, heavy, deadly was my pace: the cold Grew stifling, suffocating, at the heart; And when I clasp'd my hands I felt them not. One minute before death, my iced foot touch'd The lowest stair; and as it touch'd, life seem'd To pour in at the toes: I mounted up, As once fair angels on a ladder flew From the green turf to Heaven. 'Holy Power,' Cried I, approaching near the horned shrine, 'What am I that should so be saved from death? 'What am I that another death come not 'To choke my utterance sacrilegious here?' Then said the veiled shadow 'Thou hast felt 'What 'tis to die and live again before 'Thy fated hour. That thou hadst power to do so 'Is thy own safety; thou hast dated on 'Thy doom.' 'High Prophetess,' said I, 'purge off, 'Benign, if so it please thee, my mind's film.' 'None can usurp this height,' return'd that shade, 'But those to whom the miseries of the world 'Are misery, and will not let them rest. 'All else who find a haven in the world, 'Where they may thoughtless sleep away their days, 'If by a chance into this fane they come, 'Rot on the pavement where thou rottedst half.' 'Are there not thousands in the world,' said I, Encourag'd by the sooth voice of the shade, 'Who love their fellows even to the death; 'Who feel the giant agony of the world; 'And more, like slaves to poor humanity, 'Labour for mortal good? I sure should see 'Other men here; but I am here alone.' 'Those whom thou spak'st of are no vision'ries,' Rejoin'd that voice; 'they are no dreamers weak; 'They seek no wonder but the human face, 'No music but a happy noted voice; 'They come not here, they have no thought to come; 'And thou art here, for thou art less than they: 'What benefit canst thou do, or all thy tribe, 'To the great world? Thou art a dreaming thing, 'A fever of thyself think of the Earth; 'What bliss even in hope is there for thee? 'What haven? every creature hath its home; 'Every sole man hath days of joy and pain, 'Whether his labours be sublime or low 'The pain alone; the joy alone; distinct: 'Only the dreamer venoms all his days, 'Bearing more woe than all his sins deserve. 'Therefore, that happiness be somewhat shar'd, 'Such things as thou art are admitted oft 'Into like gardens thou didst pass erewhile, 'And suffer'd in these temples: for that cause 'Thou standest safe beneath this statue's knees.' 'That I am favour'd for unworthiness, 'By such propitious parley medicin'd 'In sickness not ignoble, I rejoice, 'Aye, and could weep for love of such award.' So answer'd I, continuing, 'If it please, 'Majestic shadow, tell me: sure not all 'Those melodies sung into the world's ear 'Are useless: sure a poet is a sage; 'A humanist, physician to all men. 'That I am none I feel, as vultures feel 'They are no birds when eagles are abroad. 'What am I then? Thou spakest of my tribe: 'What tribe?' The tall shade veil'd in drooping white Then spake, so much more earnest, that the breath Moved the thin linen folds that drooping hung About a golden censer from the hand Pendent. 'Art thou not of the dreamer tribe? 'The poet and the dreamer are distinct, 'Diverse, sheer opposite, antipodes. 'The one pours out a balm upon the world, 'The other vexes it.' Then shouted I Spite of myself, and with a Pythia's spleen, 'Apollo! faded! O far flown Apollo! 'Where is thy misty pestilence to creep 'Into the dwellings, through the door crannies 'Of all mock lyrists, large self worshipers, 'And careless Hectorers in proud bad verse. 'Though I breathe death with them it will be life 'To see them sprawl before me into graves. 'Majestic shadow, tell me where I am, 'Whose altar this; for whom this incense curls; 'What image this whose face I cannot see, 'For the broad marble knees; and who thou art, 'Of accent feminine so courteous?' Then the tall shade, in drooping linens veil'd, Spoke out, so much more earnest, that her breath Stirr'd the thin folds of gauze that drooping hung About a golden censer from her hand Pendent; and by her voice I knew she shed Long treasured tears. 'This temple, sad and lone, 'Is all spar'd from the thunder of a war 'Foughten long since by giant hierarchy 'Against rebellion: this old image here, 'Whose carved features wrinkled as he fell, 'Is Saturn's; I Moneta, left supreme 'Sole priestess of this desolation.' I had no words to answer, for my tongue, Useless, could find about its roofed home No syllable of a fit majesty To make rejoinder to Moneta's mourn. There was a silence, while the altar's blaze Was fainting for sweet food: I look'd thereon, And on the paved floor, where nigh were piled Faggots of cinnamon, and many heaps Of other crisped spice wood then again I look'd upon the altar, and its horns Whiten'd with ashes, and its lang'rous flame, And then upon the offerings again; And so by turns till sad Moneta cried, 'The sacrifice is done, but not the less 'Will I be kind to thee for thy good will. 'My power, which to me is still a curse, 'Shall be to thee a wonder; for the scenes 'Still swooning vivid through my globed brain 'With an electral changing misery 'Thou shalt with those dull mortal eyes behold, 'Free from all pain, if wonder pain thee not.' As near as an immortal's sphered words Could to a mother's soften, were these last: And yet I had a terror of her robes, And chiefly of the veils, that from her brow Hung pale, and curtain'd her in mysteries That made my heart too small to hold its blood. This saw that Goddess, and with sacred hand Parted the veils. Then saw I a wan face, Not pin'd by human sorrows, but bright blanch'd By an immortal sickness which kills not; It works a constant change, which happy death Can put no end to; deathwards progressing To no death was that visage; it had pass'd The lily and the snow; and beyond these I must not think now, though I saw that face But for her eyes I should have fled away. They held me back, with a benignant light Soft mitigated by divinest lids Half closed, and visionless entire they seem'd Of all external things; they saw me not, But in blank splendour beam'd like the mild moon, Who comforts those she sees not, who knows not What eyes are upward cast. As I had found A grain of gold upon a mountain side, And twing'd with avarice strain'd out my eyes To search its sullen entrails rich with ore, So at the view of sad Moneta's brow I ach'd to see what things the hollow brain Behind enwombed: what high tragedy In the dark secret chambers of her skull Was acting, that could give so dread a stress To her cold lips, and fill with such a light Her planetary eyes, and touch her voice With such a sorrow 'Shade of Memory!' Cried I, with act adorant at her feet, 'By all the gloom hung round thy fallen house, 'By this last temple, by the golden age, 'By great Apollo, thy dear Foster Child, 'And by thyself, forlorn divinity, 'The pale Omega of a withered race, 'Let me behold, according as thou saidst, 'What in thy brain so ferments to and fro!' No sooner had this conjuration pass'd My devout lips, than side by side we stood (Like a stunt bramble by a solemn pine) Deep in the shady sadness of a vale, Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon and eve's one star. Onward I look'd beneath the gloomy boughs, And saw, what first I thought an image huge, Like to the image pedestal'd so high In Saturn's temple. Then Moneta's voice Came brief upon mine ear 'So Saturn sat When he had lost his realms ' whereon there grew A power within me of enormous ken To see as a god sees, and take the depth Of things as nimbly as the outward eye Can size and shape pervade. The lofty theme At those few words hung vast before my mind, With half unravel'd web. I set myself Upon an eagle's watch, that I might see, And seeing ne'er forget. No stir of life Was in this shrouded vale, not so much air As in the zoning of a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell there did it rest. A stream went voiceless by, still deaden'd more By reason of the fallen divinity Spreading more shade; the Naiad 'mid her reeds Press'd her cold finger closer to her lips. Along the margin sand large footmarks went No farther than to where old Saturn's feet Had rested, and there slept, how long a sleep! Degraded, cold, upon the sodden ground His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred; and his realmless eyes were clos'd, While his bow'd head seem'd listening to the Earth, His ancient mother, for some comfort yet. It seem'd no force could wake him from his place; But there came one who with a kindred hand Touch'd his wide shoulders after bending low With reverence, though to one who knew it not. Then came the griev'd voice of Mnemosyne, And griev'd I hearken'd. 'That divinity 'Whom thou saw'st step from yon forlornest wood, 'And with slow pace approach our fallen King, 'Is Thea, softest natur'd of our brood.' I mark'd the Goddess in fair statuary Surpassing wan Moneta by the head, And in her sorrow nearer woman's tears. There was a listening fear in her regard, As if calamity had but begun; As if the vanward clouds of evil days Had spent their malice, and the sullen rear Was with its stored thunder labouring up. One hand she press'd upon that aching spot Where beats the human heart, as if just there, Though an immortal, she felt cruel pain; The other upon Saturn's bended neck She laid, and to the level of his hollow ear Leaning with parted lips, some words she spake In solemn tenor and deep organ tune; Some mourning words, which in our feeble tongue Would come in this like accenting; how frail To that large utterance of the early Gods! 'Saturn! look up and for what, poor lost King? 'I have no comfort for thee; no not one; 'I cannot cry, Wherefore thus sleepest thou? 'For Heaven is parted from thee, and the Earth 'Knows thee not, so afflicted, for a God; 'And Ocean too, with all its solemn noise, 'Has from thy sceptre pass'd, and all the air 'Is emptied of thine hoary majesty: 'Thy thunder, captious at the new command, 'Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house; 'And thy sharp lightning, in unpracticed hands, 'Scorches and burns our once serene domain. 'With such remorseless speed still come new woes, 'That unbelief has not a space to breathe. 'Saturn! sleep on: Me thoughtless, why should I 'Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude? 'Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes? 'Saturn, sleep on, while at thy feet I weep.' As when upon a tranced summer night Forests, branch charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a noise, Save from one gradual solitary gust, Swelling upon the silence; dying off; As if the ebbing air had but one wave; So came these words, and went; the while in tears She press'd her fair large forehead to the earth, Just where her fallen hair might spread in curls A soft and silken mat for Saturn's feet. Long, long those two were postured motionless, Like sculpture builded up upon the grave Of their own power. A long awful time I look'd upon them: still they were the same; The frozen God still bending to the earth, And the sad Goddess weeping at his feet, Moneta silent. Without stay or prop But my own weak mortality, I bore The load of this eternal quietude, The unchanging gloom, and the three fixed shapes Ponderous upon my senses, a whole moon. For by my burning brain I measured sure Her silver seasons shedded on the night, And ever day by day methought I grew More gaunt and ghostly. Oftentimes I pray'd Intense, that Death would take me from the vale And all its burthens gasping with despair Of change, hour after hour I curs'd myself; Until old Saturn rais'd his faded eyes, And look'd around and saw his kingdom gone, And all the gloom and sorrow of the place, And that fair kneeling Goddess at his feet. As the moist scent of flowers, and grass, and leaves Fills forest dells with a pervading air, Known to the woodland nostril, so the words Of Saturn fill'd the mossy glooms around, Even to the hollows of time eaten oaks And to the windings of the foxes' hole, With sad low tones, while thus he spake, and sent Strange musings to the solitary Pan. 'Moan, brethren, moan; for we are swallow'd up 'And buried from all Godlike exercise 'Of influence benign on planets pale, 'And peaceful sway above man's harvesting, 'And all those acts which Deity supreme 'Doth ease its heart of love in. Moan and wail, 'Moan, brethren, moan; for lo, the rebel spheres 'Spin round, the stars their ancient courses keep, 'Clouds still with shadowy moisture haunt the earth, 'Still suck their fill of light from sun and moon, 'Still buds the tree, and still the sea shores murmur; 'There is no death in all the Universe, 'No smell of death there shall be death Moan, moan, 'Moan, Cybele, moan; for thy pernicious babes 'Have changed a God into a shaking Palsy. 'Moan, brethren, moan, for I have no strength left, 'Weak as the reed weak feeble as my voice 'O, O, the pain, the pain of feebleness. 'Moan, moan, for still I thaw or give me help; 'Throw down those imps, and give me victory. 'Let me hear other groans, and trumpets blown 'Of triumph calm, and hymns of festival 'From the gold peaks of Heaven's high piled clouds; 'Voices of soft proclaim, and silver stir 'Of strings in hollow shells; and let there be 'Beautiful things made new, for the surprise 'Of the sky children.' So he feebly ceas'd, With such a poor and sickly sounding pause, Methought I heard some old man of the earth Bewailing earthly loss; nor could my eyes And ears act with that pleasant unison of sense Which marries sweet sound with the grace of form, And dolorous accent from a tragic harp With large limb'd visions. More I scrutinized: Still fix'd he sat beneath the sable trees, Whose arms spread straggling in wild serpent forms, With leaves all hush'd; his awful presence there (Now all was silent) gave a deadly lie To what I erewhile heard only his lips Trembled amid the white curls of his beard. They told the truth, though, round, the snowy locks Hung nobly, as upon the face of heaven A mid day fleece of clouds. Thea arose, And stretched her white arm through the hollow dark, Pointing some whither: whereat he too rose Like a vast giant, seen by men at sea To grow pale from the waves at dull midnight. They melted from my sight into the woods; Ere I could turn, Moneta cried, 'These twain 'Are speeding to the families of grief, 'Where roof'd in by black rocks they waste, in pain 'And darkness, for no hope.' And she spake on, As ye may read who can unwearied pass Onward from the antechamber of this dream, Where even at the open doors awhile I must delay, and glean my memory Of her high phrase: perhaps no further dare. CANTO II 'Mortal, that thou may'st understand aright, 'I humanize my sayings to thine ear, 'Making comparisons of earthly things; 'Or thou might'st better listen to the wind, 'Whose language is to thee a barren noise, 'Though it blows legend laden through the trees. 'In melancholy realms big tears are shed, 'More sorrow like to this, and such like woe, 'Too huge for mortal tongue, or pen of scribe. 'The Titans fierce, self hid or prison bound, 'Groan for the old allegiance once more, 'Listening in their doom for Saturn's voice. 'But one of our whole eagle brood still keeps 'His sov'reignty, and rule, and majesty; 'Blazing Hyperion on his orbed fire 'Still sits, still snuffs the incense teeming up 'From man to the sun's God: yet unsecure, 'For as upon the earth dire prodigies 'Fright and perplex, so also shudders he: 'Nor at dog's howl or gloom bird's Even screech, 'Or the familiar visitings of one 'Upon the first toll of his passing bell: 'But horrors, portioned to a giant nerve, 'Make great Hyperion ache. His palace bright, 'Bastion'd with pyramids of glowing gold, 'And touch'd with shade of bronzed obelisks, 'Glares a blood red through all the thousand courts, 'Arches, and domes, and fiery galleries: 'And all its curtains of Aurorian clouds 'Flush angerly; when he would taste the wreaths 'Of incense breath'd aloft from sacred hills, 'Instead of sweets his ample palate takes 'Savour of poisonous brass and metals sick. 'Wherefore when harbour'd in the sleepy West, 'After the full completion of fair day, 'For rest divine upon exalted couch 'And slumber in the arms of melody, 'He paces through the pleasant hours of ease 'With strides colossal, on from hall to hall; 'While far within each aisle and deep recess 'His winged minions in close clusters stand 'Amaz'd, and full of fear; like anxious men, 'Who on a wide plain gather in sad troops, 'When earthquakes jar their battlements and towers. 'Even now, while Saturn, roused from icy trance, 'Goes step for step with Thea from yon woods, 'Hyperion, leaving twilight in the rear, 'Is sloping to the threshold of the West. 'Thither we tend.' Now in clear light I stood, Reliev'd from the dusk vale. Mnemosyne Was sitting on a square edg'd polish'd stone, That in its lucid depth reflected pure Her priestess garments. My quick eyes ran on From stately nave to nave, from vault to vault, Through bow'rs of fragrant and enwreathed light And diamond paved lustrous long arcades. Anon rush'd by the bright Hyperion; His flaming robes stream'd out beyond his heels, And gave a roar, as if of earthly fire, That scared away the meek ethereal hours And made their dove wings tremble. On he flared. THE END 1819

3/13/2024 PODCAST Episodes #1243 - #1245 GUEST: Brant Frost V, Phill D. Kline, Rep. Tom Tiffany, Charles Marino, Caroline Jeffords, Mallory Staples, Marci McCarthy, Salleigh Grubbs, Debbie Dooley, Rep. Eli Crane + YOUR CALLS! at 1-888-480-JOHN (5646) and GETTR Live! @jfradioshow #GodzillaOfTruth #TruckingTheTruth   Want more of today's show? Episode #1243 Biden Campaign Poll Numbers Plummet After SOTU Speech Episode #1244 DEI Has Severely Degraded U.S. Military Readiness Episode #1245 The Peach Crew Cometh   https://johnfredericksradio.libsyn.com/

In this episode, Jonathan Barth joins Mark Bauerlein to discuss “The Study of American History in Our Universities,” a report made by Arizona State University's Center for American Institutions. Music by Jack Bauerlein.

In this episode, Jonathan Barth joins Mark Bauerlein to discuss “The Study of American History in Our Universities,” a report made by Arizona State University's Center for American Institutions. Music by Jack Bauerlein.

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Olá, seja muito bem-vindo ao StandardsCast EP #234 A330/A350. Neste episódio conversamos com Arthur Lechmann (Coordenador de Flight Standards A330/A350) sobre dois tópicos específicos: abordamos em detalhes e nos aprofundamos nos temas relacionados a Temporary Abnormal Behavior e Management of Degraded Guidance. Em caso de dúvidas, críticas ou sugestões, envie um e-mail para standardscast@voeazul.com.br. Este Podcast foi produzido pela Diretoria de Operações da Azul Linhas Aéreas. Em caso de divergência entre qualquer assunto técnico abordado e os documentos oficiais, os documentos prevalecerão. Todos os direitos reservados.

In this conversation, we connect with Jonathan Lynch, Ph.D., a University Distinguished Professor in the Department of Plant Science at Pennsylvania State University. Dr. Lynch has been a professional in his field for 4 decades, receiving his Masters and Ph.D. in Plant Physiology from UC Davis, where he also completed his postdoctoral training. The global environment is constantly changing – which significantly impacts plant and soil health. As the head of the Roots Lab at Penn State, Dr. Lynch is on a mission to better understand the genetic, physiological, and ecological basis of plant adaptation to infertile soils. How does he achieve this? By meticulously studying the physiology, genetics, and ecology surrounding organismic processes… Tune in now to discover: How to improve the growth of plants in hard conditions.  The challenges that roots face in low-fertility soil.  Problems that soil fertilizers can pose.  The most important crops on Earth.  How climate change is affecting crop yield.  Join us now to dive into Dr. Lynch's fascinating journey through life and science! You can learn more about Dr. Lynch and his work with the Roots Lab by clicking here. Episode also available on Apple Podcasts: http://apple.co/30PvU9C

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhkA3LVpbxg #2023 #art #music #movies #poetry #poem #food #photooftheday #volcano #news #weather #monkeys #climate #horse #puppy #fyp #love #instagood #onelove #eyes #getyoked #horsie #gotmilk #book #shecomin #getready 

Bumped from business class with no refund? Has a one night stand robbed you? We have just the  show for you! And practically perfect in every way Stefanie Jones AKA Mary Poppins joins the show to teach us how to spell Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode of From the Woods Today, we discuss some ways to prevent forest degradation in the future and restore productivity and function to historically mismanaged woodlands. We also have a segment on how to identify and protect sinkholes on your property. 8.9.23.  Watch Video From the Woods Today

* NOT FOR THE FRAGILE *This episode will challenge you and push you. It may even trigger you. Can you handle some "light" degradation?  I often distinguish the real submissives from the imposters, and can even sniff out an Alpha male, hiding in submissive cuffs and collar. You'll learn all about the bratty behaviour that can often sneak out in a submissive's actions, and how I can see through it like glass. Listen until the end, to get My real insights into why men benefit from chastity.Test yourself and do not shoot the messenger. I am here to push you into a new arena of realization. I will tell you what many women avoid saying out loud.Chastity QueenLocked In Lust 15% OFF:CHASTITYQUEEN Use Discount Code:CHASTITYQUEEN for 15% OFF ANYTHING at www.lockedinlust.com LOVE SHOP 15% OFF Sex Toys & MORE Get 15% OFF sex toys, lingerie and more, using PROMO CODE: CHASTITY QUEEN Buzzsprout - Let's get your podcast launched! Start for FREE15% OFF Shoe Freaks Canada GET your 15% OFF ANYTHING when you buy SEXY Shoes, heels & Stripper Boots at Shoe Freaks Canada!www.SMBSM.com - Chastity Cages 10% OFF Get reasonably priced chastity cages, chastity belts, chastity wear, + chastity accessories.Disclaimer: This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase, I may receive a commission at no extra cost to you.Support the showhttps://www.linktr.ee/ChastityQUEEN

Rachel McCoppin, Ph.D. professor of literature at the University of Minnesota Crookston is here to discuss her newest book, Goddess Lost: How the Downfall of Female Deities Degraded Women's Status in World Cultures.  Rachel will tell us why this topic is still relevant today and explain a bit about the history of goddess worship and what it meant to the role of women in each of the global regions identified in her book.  I'll be sure to ask her about women-centeredd religions or philosophies still practiced today and how understanding this history of goddess worship helps women today.  Other books by Rachel McCoppin are The Hero's Journey and the Cycles of Nature,  The Lessons of Nature in Mythology, The Legacy of the Goddess: Heroines, Warriors and Witches from World Mythology to Folktales and Fairy Tales and The Ecological Heroes of Amerindian Mythology

Listen every weekday for a local newscast featuring town, county, state and regional headlines. It's the daily dose of news you need on Wyoming, Idaho and the Mountain West—all in four minutes or less. Fridays feature a roundup of KHOL's best stories of the week.

RETRO RELEVANCE, IS WHERE WE MAKE AN OLD SHOW NEW AGAIN> This is a re-release of #131 originally recorded in December of 2019. YOU'RE TOO INSIDE AMERICA THE AMERICA BUBBLE IS SO BIG, THAT IT'S HARD FOR MANY TO SEE IT FROM THE OUTSIDE AND UNDERSTAND WHAT IT REALLY IS. IS IT THE “NEW ATLANTIS” AS DESCRIBED BY MANLY P. HALL? AMERICA HAS GREAT PEOPLE AND IT'S ORIGINAL IDEALS WERE OUTLING OUR NATURAL HUMAN RIGHTS, BUT IT HAS LONG BEEN BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. IN THIS DISCUSSION, WE GO OVER THESE TOPICS: OPPURTUNITY MASQUERADE, WORKER-BEE MENTALITY, LOCALISM, DRUGS AND HOMELESSNESS, LACK OF HUMILITY AND DIVISION, MIND CONTROL AND EMPIRE. AMERICA IS THE MOST IMPORT CHESS PIECE FOR THE MOVERS AND SHAKERS BEHIND THE SHADOW GOVERNMENT AS THEY USE AMERICA TO BE THE MILITARY MIGHT OF THE WORLD AND A TROJAN HORSE TO MIND CONTROL THE PLANET. THIS TALK IS IMPORTANT FOR THOSE THAT NEED TO SEE THAT AMERICA IS REALLY NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE ON THE SURFACE, YET OUTLINES A DECAYING COUNTRY FROM WITHIN. IMPORTANT INFORMATION AS WE GO INTO A NEW DECADE. https://rare.us/rare-humor/mom-breast-milk-music-festival/Degraded mom sprays breast milk at a crowd in California Website: https://www.chantitdownradio.com Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCmTlBzFViiv58N4_K9On0UQ  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/chantitdown/ Telegram: https://t.me/chantitdownchat Odysee: https://odysee.com/@chantitdownradio:c Rumble: https://rumble.com/account/content?type=all Please help support the show. Subscribe, leave reviews, help algorithms find the show. Support the show if possible. https://www.patreon.com/Luemas https://www.chantitdownradio.com/store.html Chant it down t-shirts: https://chant-it-down-store.creator-spring.com/listing/chant-it-down-logo

Kiley returns to the Sexpartment with her husband and Pineapple Express Podcast co-host Brad.  They share the stories of how they got into the lifestyle, what it's like to be a swinger in the public eye, and how Kiley discovered she likes to be a Cuck Queen,  Kiley also share info on the organization she is working with to help normalize non-monogamy. Here are links to the organizations she was referencing. Please show them any support you can:https://ncsfreedom.org - National Coalition for Sexual Freedomhttps://www.woodhullfoundation.org - Woodhull Freedom Foundationhttps://www.open-love.org - Organization for Polyamory and Ethical Non-momogamyPlease subscribe on your favorite podcast platform.You can catch us on SLSRadio every Wednesday at 4pm Eastern Time.You can find tons of amazing lifestyle show on FullSwapRadio, including our show, Every Wednesday at 6:30pm and Midnight Eastern Time. We are now hosts on the Swinger Society Discord Server as well.If you have your own sexy stories, please call our hotline and share them with us and our audience. 844-4-Hump-DayIf you have any questions for us, please email us at humpdayquickies@gmail.comVisit our website as well.  HumpDayQuickies.comPlease follow us on all the social platforms:Twitter - HumpDayQuickiesInstagram - HumpDayQuickiesFaceBook - HumpDayQuickiesTikTok - HumpDayQuickiesWe are adding new content as quickly as we can!

BLACK MEN LOVE BEING “DEGRADED & CONTROLLED BY WHITE HISPANIC ASIAN & LIGHTSKINNED WOMEN

Green Blue Foundation Africa | Restoration Body for Degraded lands in Africa by Capital FM

PARADISE LOST Book 8, Adam and Eve Lines 437 - 653 The angel Raphael's account of heavenly matters at an end, Adam seeks to retain his heavenly visitor by recounting his memory of the events in Eden, and the curiosity of the angel, too, is aroused to seek knowledge of God: Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on Earth/Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire/Gladly into the ways of God with Man:/For God, we see, hath honored thee, and set/On man his equal love: Say therefore on... for I attend,/Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine. Adam's story of God's immediate presence to him in the first theophany, sets the stage: Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,/In adoration at his feet I fell/Submiss: He reared me, and 'Whom thou soughtest I am,'/Said mildly, 'Author of all this thou seest/Above, or round about thee, or beneath.' We prefigure here the name of God, the Great "I am" of Moses, the eternal Word. 'This Paradise I give thee, count it thine/To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat:/Of every tree that in the garden grows/Eat freely with glad heart;/fear here no dearth:/But of the tree whose operation brings/Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set/The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith. After naming the animals, Adam expresses to God desire for his own complement. Of fellowship I speak/Such as I seek, fit to participate/All rational delight: wherein the brute/Cannot be human consort: They rejoice/Each with their kind, lion with lioness;/So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined. The Maker's reply is beautiful, and fit: I, ere thou spakest,/Knew it not good for man to be alone;/... What next I bring shall please thee, be assured,/Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,/Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire. Adam awakes to Eve: Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,/In every gesture dignity and love. His words of praise to God for this sweetest of all divine gifts: Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign,/Giver of all things fair, but fairest this/Of all thy gifts .... I now see/Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself/Before me: Woman is her name; of man/Extracted: for this cause he shall forego/Father and mother, and to his wife adhere;/And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul. Adam is so smitten, that he finds himself nearly undone in Eve's presence, an experience since familiar to all men in love, both sublime and dangerous:  when I approach/Her loveliness, so absolute she seems/And in herself complete, so well to know/Her own, that what she wills to do or say,Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best:/All higher knowledge in her presence falls/Degraded; Wisdom in discourse with her/Loses discountenanced, and like Folly shows;/Authority and Reason on her wait ... /and, to consummate all,/Greatness of mind and Nobleness their seat/Build in her loveliest, and create an awe/About her, as a guard angelic placed. Warned by Raphael to not allow love to overwhelm reason, Adam replies that it is not just Eve's beauty that draws his love, but: those graceful acts,/Those thousand decencies, that daily flow/From all her words and actions mixed with love/And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned/Union of mind, or in us both one soul;/Harmony to behold in wedded pair/More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear..../To love, thou blamest me not; for Love, thou sayest,/Leads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide As the apostle John will later say, God is love. It is God who ordained the completion of man in woman, two as one. The story complete Raphael returns to heaven with these words of parting from Adam: Go, heavenly guest, ethereal Messenger,/Sent from whose sovereign goodness I adore./Gentle to me and affable hath been/Thy condescension, and shall be honored ever/With grateful memory: Thou to mankind/Be good and friendly still, and oft return. Paradise Lost Book 8 Summary & Analysis | LitCharts This is an excellent summary and commentary on each of the books in PARADISE LOST. I strongly recommend reading these commentaries over as you listen to our readings of this great poem!   Find our content helpful? Why not buy us a cup of coffee! Go to: https://ko-fi.com/thechristianatheist https://www.youtube.com/c/TheChristianAtheist/featured https://www.facebook.com/JnJWiseWords https://wisewordsforyouroccasion.wordpress.com   #paradiselost #paradise #johnmilton #milton #poetry #poem #epic #epicpoem #classicpoetry #classicpoem #classics #westernliterature #satan #hell #earth #christianity #religion #thechristianatheist #drjohndwise #drjohnwise #johnwise #christian #atheist #christianity #atheism #jesus #jesuschrist #god #bible #oldtestament #newtestament #nocompromise #rationality #faith #philosophy #philosopher #culture #society #hegelism #hegel #reason #incarnation #history#psychology #theology #literature #humanities #hardquestions #postmodernism #woke #wisdom #ethics #science #poetry

PARADISE LOST Book 8, Adam and Eve Lines 217 - 436 The angel Raphael's account of heavenly matters at an end, Adam seeks to retain his heavenly visitor by recounting his memory of the events in Eden, and the curiosity of the angel, too, is aroused to seek knowledge of God: Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on Earth/Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire/Gladly into the ways of God with Man:/For God, we see, hath honored thee, and set/On man his equal love: Say therefore on... for I attend,/Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine. Adam's story of God's immediate presence to him in the first theophany, sets the stage: Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,/In adoration at his feet I fell/Submiss: He reared me, and 'Whom thou soughtest I am,'/Said mildly, 'Author of all this thou seest/Above, or round about thee, or beneath.' We prefigure here the name of God, the Great "I am" of Moses, the eternal Word. 'This Paradise I give thee, count it thine/To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat:/Of every tree that in the garden grows/Eat freely with glad heart;/fear here no dearth:/But of the tree whose operation brings/Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set/The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith. After naming the animals, Adam expresses to God desire for his own complement. Of fellowship I speak/Such as I seek, fit to participate/All rational delight: wherein the brute/Cannot be human consort: They rejoice/Each with their kind, lion with lioness;/So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined. The Maker's reply is beautiful, and fit: I, ere thou spakest,/Knew it not good for man to be alone;/... What next I bring shall please thee, be assured,/Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,/Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire. Adam awakes to Eve: Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,/In every gesture dignity and love. His words of praise to God for this sweetest of all divine gifts: Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign,/Giver of all things fair, but fairest this/Of all thy gifts .... I now see/Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself/Before me: Woman is her name; of man/Extracted: for this cause he shall forego/Father and mother, and to his wife adhere;/And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul. Adam is so smitten, that he finds himself nearly undone in Eve's presence, an experience since familiar to all men in love, both sublime and dangerous:  when I approach/Her loveliness, so absolute she seems/And in herself complete, so well to know/Her own, that what she wills to do or say,Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best:/All higher knowledge in her presence falls/Degraded; Wisdom in discourse with her/Loses discountenanced, and like Folly shows;/Authority and Reason on her wait ... /and, to consummate all,/Greatness of mind and Nobleness their seat/Build in her loveliest, and create an awe/About her, as a guard angelic placed. Warned by Raphael to not allow love to overwhelm reason, Adam replies that it is not just Eve's beauty that draws his love, but: those graceful acts,/Those thousand decencies, that daily flow/From all her words and actions mixed with love/And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned/Union of mind, or in us both one soul;/Harmony to behold in wedded pair/More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear..../To love, thou blamest me not; for Love, thou sayest,/Leads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide As the apostle John will later say, God is love. It is God who ordained the completion of man in woman, two as one. The story complete Raphael returns to heaven with these words of parting from Adam: Go, heavenly guest, ethereal Messenger,/Sent from whose sovereign goodness I adore./Gentle to me and affable hath been/Thy condescension, and shall be honored ever/With grateful memory: Thou to mankind/Be good and friendly still, and oft return. Paradise Lost Book 8 Summary & Analysis | LitCharts This is an excellent summary and commentary on each of the books in PARADISE LOST. I strongly recommend reading these commentaries over as you listen to our readings of this great poem!   Find our content helpful? Why not buy us a cup of coffee! Go to: https://ko-fi.com/thechristianatheist https://www.youtube.com/c/TheChristianAtheist/featured https://www.facebook.com/JnJWiseWords https://wisewordsforyouroccasion.wordpress.com   #paradiselost #paradise #johnmilton #milton #poetry #poem #epic #epicpoem #classicpoetry #classicpoem #classics #westernliterature #satan #hell #earth #christianity #religion #thechristianatheist #drjohndwise #drjohnwise #johnwise #christian #atheist #christianity #atheism #jesus #jesuschrist #god #bible #oldtestament #newtestament #nocompromise #rationality #faith #philosophy #philosopher #culture #society #hegelism #hegel #reason #incarnation #history#psychology #theology #literature #humanities #hardquestions #postmodernism #woke #wisdom #ethics #science #poetry

PARADISE LOST Book 8, Adam and Eve Lines 1 - 216 The angel Raphael's account of heavenly matters at an end, Adam seeks to retain his heavenly visitor by recounting his memory of the events in Eden, and the curiosity of the angel, too, is aroused to seek knowledge of God: Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on Earth/Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire/Gladly into the ways of God with Man:/For God, we see, hath honored thee, and set/On man his equal love: Say therefore on... for I attend,/Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine. Adam's story of God's immediate presence to him in the first theophany, sets the stage: Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,/In adoration at his feet I fell/Submiss: He reared me, and 'Whom thou soughtest I am,'/Said mildly, 'Author of all this thou seest/Above, or round about thee, or beneath.' We prefigure here the name of God, the Great "I am" of Moses, the eternal Word. 'This Paradise I give thee, count it thine/To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat:/Of every tree that in the garden grows/Eat freely with glad heart;/fear here no dearth:/But of the tree whose operation brings/Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set/The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith. After naming the animals, Adam expresses to God desire for his own complement. Of fellowship I speak/Such as I seek, fit to participate/All rational delight: wherein the brute/Cannot be human consort: They rejoice/Each with their kind, lion with lioness;/So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined. The Maker's reply is beautiful, and fit: I, ere thou spakest,/Knew it not good for man to be alone;/... What next I bring shall please thee, be assured,/Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,/Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire. Adam awakes to Eve: Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,/In every gesture dignity and love. His words of praise to God for this sweetest of all divine gifts: Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign,/Giver of all things fair, but fairest this/Of all thy gifts .... I now see/Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself/Before me: Woman is her name; of man/Extracted: for this cause he shall forego/Father and mother, and to his wife adhere;/And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul. Adam is so smitten, that he finds himself nearly undone in Eve's presence, an experience since familiar to all men in love, both sublime and dangerous:  when I approach/Her loveliness, so absolute she seems/And in herself complete, so well to know/Her own, that what she wills to do or say,Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best:/All higher knowledge in her presence falls/Degraded; Wisdom in discourse with her/Loses discountenanced, and like Folly shows;/Authority and Reason on her wait ... /and, to consummate all,/Greatness of mind and Nobleness their seat/Build in her loveliest, and create an awe/About her, as a guard angelic placed. Warned by Raphael to not allow love to overwhelm reason, Adam replies that it is not just Eve's beauty that draws his love, but: those graceful acts,/Those thousand decencies, that daily flow/From all her words and actions mixed with love/And sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned/Union of mind, or in us both one soul;/Harmony to behold in wedded pair/More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear..../To love, thou blamest me not; for Love, thou sayest,/Leads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide As the apostle John will later say, God is love. It is God who ordained the completion of man in woman, two as one. The story complete Raphael returns to heaven with these words of parting from Adam: Go, heavenly guest, ethereal Messenger,/Sent from whose sovereign goodness I adore./Gentle to me and affable hath been/Thy condescension, and shall be honored ever/With grateful memory: Thou to mankind/Be good and friendly still, and oft return. Paradise Lost Book 8 Summary & Analysis | LitCharts This is an excellent summary and commentary on each of the books in PARADISE LOST. I strongly recommend reading these commentaries over as you listen to our readings of this great poem!   Find our content helpful? Why not buy us a cup of coffee! Go to: https://ko-fi.com/thechristianatheist https://www.youtube.com/c/TheChristianAtheist/featured https://www.facebook.com/JnJWiseWords https://wisewordsforyouroccasion.wordpress.com   #paradiselost #paradise #johnmilton #milton #poetry #poem #epic #epicpoem #classicpoetry #classicpoem #classics #westernliterature #satan #hell #earth #christianity #religion #thechristianatheist #drjohndwise #drjohnwise #johnwise #christian #atheist #christianity #atheism #jesus #jesuschrist #god #bible #oldtestament #newtestament #nocompromise #rationality #faith #philosophy #philosopher #culture #society #hegelism #hegel #reason #incarnation #history#psychology #theology #literature #humanities #hardquestions #postmodernism #woke #wisdom #ethics #science #poetry

From vaccinating frogs against the Chytrid fungus, to space based solar farms and the well-being benefits of indoor plants! Please make sure to subscribe to fairly lame. for your weekly dose of feel good environmental news from around the world! All my links: https://linktr.ee/fairlylame Today's Topics Welcome (0:00) Topics (2:27) Vaccinating frogs against Chytrid Fungus (4:48) Stopping the spread of pathogens with boot scrubbing stations (14:19) Spaced based solar farms feasibility and technology (21:00) The value of “degraded” tropical forests (27:40) The legitimate health benefits of indoor plants (33:12) Gene editing trees to speed up reproduction for research (37:17) Story links Vaccinating frogs against Chytrid Fungus https://theconversation.com/vaccinating-frogs-may-or-may-not-protect-them-against-a-pandemic-but-it-does-provide-another-option-for-conservation-194231 NSW government Chytrid Fungus info https://www.environment.nsw.gov.au/topics/animals-and-plants/native-animals/native-animal-facts/frogs/threats-to-frogs/frog-chytrid-fungus Location of ACT Parks with boot cleaning stations! https://www.parks.act.gov.au/home/features/did-someone-say-boot-scrubbing Stopping the spread of pathogens with boot scrubbing stations [Tasmania Video] https://www.greatwalks.com.au/news/stopping-dieback-is-every-hiker-s-responsibility Cleaning your boots without a station https://www.walkingsa.org.au/news/stop-spread-bushwalking-guidelines-protect-environment/ Spaced based solar farms https://www.abc.net.au/news/science/2022-12-20/space-based-solar-power-europe-funding-research/101733558 The value of “degraded” tropical forests https://www.newscientist.com/article/2351651-tropical-forests-ravaged-by-logging-can-still-have-thriving-ecosystems/ How plants can keep your home comfortable https://www.treehugger.com/how-plants-inside-keep-comfortable-home-6931238 The legitimate health benefits of indoor plants https://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/health-and-wellness/more-than-just-decoration-the-many-health-benefits-of-house-plants-20200708-p55a97.html Gene editing trees to speed up reproduction for research https://newatlas.com/biology/crispr-poplar-flowering-months/ What is CRISPR https://www.newscientist.com/definition/what-is-crispr/

Neal Spackman, founder of Regenerative Resources Co, joins us to talk about transforming millions of acres of degraded landscapes into productive ecologies, using seawater to raise fish, using the wastewater to restore mangroves and growing saltwater species which in turn produce most of the feed for the shrimps.---------------------------------------------------Join our Gumroad community, discover the tiers and benefits on www.gumroad.com/investinginregenag. Support our work:Share itGive a 5-star ratingBuy us a coffee… or a meal! www.Ko-fi.com/regenerativeagriculture----------------------------------------------------The rule in good real estate investments is to buy low where nobody sees value and then create value. Our guest of today argues the opportunity in regenerative agriculture lies in buying extremely degraded coastal lands, in places where there is no life, no photosynthesis, and no soil. He has grown many trees without outside irrigation in the Saudi Arabian desert.More about this episode on https://investinginregenerativeagriculture.com/neal-spackman.Find our video course on https://investinginregenerativeagriculture.com/course.----------------------------------------------------For feedback, ideas, suggestions please contact us through Twitter @KoenvanSeijen, or get in touch through the website www.investinginregenerativeagriculture.com. Join our newsletter on www.eepurl.com/cxU33P. The above references an opinion and is for information and educational purposes only. It is not intended to be investment advice. Seek a duly licensed professional for investment advice.Support the show Support the show

I read from degraded to degree of freedom.     What is a degree day? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degree_day     The word of the episode is "degree". Why degrees? https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Degree_(angle)     Theme music from Tom Maslowski https://zestysol.com/     Merchandising! https://www.teepublic.com/user/spejampar     "The Dictionary - Letter A" on YouTube   "The Dictionary - Letter B" on YouTube   "The Dictionary - Letter C" on YouTube   "The Dictionary - Letter D" on YouTube     Featured in a Top 10 Dictionary Podcasts list! https://blog.feedspot.com/dictionary_podcasts/     Backwards Talking on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmIujMwEDbgZUexyR90jaTEEVmAYcCzuq     dictionarypod@gmail.com https://www.facebook.com/thedictionarypod/ https://twitter.com/dictionarypod https://www.instagram.com/dictionarypod/ https://www.patreon.com/spejampar https://www.tiktok.com/@spejampar 917-727-5757

Lesson presented at The Crossings Church Collinsville in Collinsville, IL – a non-denominational church that meets Sunday mornings at 2002 Mall Street, Collinsville, IL just outside of St. Louis. For more like this, visit the sermons page at https://crossingscollinsville.com/ The post Wes Woodell – Family Under Construction: Keys to Restoring a Degraded Relationship appeared first on The Crossings Church Collinsville.

Titans QB Ryan Tannehill Gets Degraded By Anonymous Coaches In New QB Tier Rankings Austin Stanley and Zach Bingham dissect 3 anonymous quotes on Titans QB Ryan Tannehill that are fair but harsh criticism. Also, what tier does Ryan Tannehill land it, and is he the best fit for the Titans? Lastly, a game of Sports Trivia to end the show.  Powered by BetMGM.com For More A to Z Morning Show coverage follow us here: www.atozsports.com/nashville Podcasts: atozsports.com/podcasts Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/atozsportsnashville  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/atozsports/  Twitter: https://twitter.com/AtoZSports  TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@atozsportsnashville #AtoZSports #TennesseeTitans #NFLFootball #Titans #NFLUpdates #NFLFootball Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tonight 'In Focus', Biden assures us we won't be in a recession come Thursday even though we practically already are.Also, the left's degraded view of human life is put on full display yet again by Vice President Kamala Harris.Plus, rino Liz Cheney might run for president and I say go for it and let the memes commence.Finally, I'll be airing my sit down interviews with Congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene and human Events editor Jack Posobiec, some great stuff from them and more.

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/science-technology-and-society

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/education

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/economics

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-studies

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/intellectual-history

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/sociology

Labor's End: How the Promise of Automation Degraded Work (U Illinois Press, 2021) traces the discourse around automation from its origins in the factory to its wide-ranging implications in political and social life. As Jason Resnikoff shows, the term automation expressed the conviction that industrial progress meant the inevitable abolition of manual labor from industry. But the real substance of the term reflected industry's desire to hide an intensification of human work--and labor's loss of power and protection--behind magnificent machinery and a starry-eyed faith in technological revolution. The rhetorical power of the automation ideology revealed and perpetuated a belief that the idea of freedom was incompatible with the activity of work. From there, political actors ruled out the workplace as a site of politics while some of labor's staunchest allies dismissed sped-up tasks, expanded workloads, and incipient deindustrialization in the name of technological progress. A forceful intellectual history, Labor's End challenges entrenched assumptions about automation's transformation of the American workplace. Jason Resnifoff is Assistant Professor of Contemporary History at the University of Groningen (Rijksuniversiteit Groningen) in the Netherlands. Tom Discenna is Professor of Communication at Oakland University whose work examines issues of academic labor and communicative labor more broadly. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/critical-theory

Human activity – especially agriculture – has altered 70% of the land on our planet.  According to a new report from the United Nations, damage to the Earth's lands has put the planet on “crisis footing”. Our health, our economy, and our well-being depend on land.  The food we eat, the water we drink, and […]

Episode Notes:23 year old Forward for the Calgary FlamesScored 18 goals last season and is breaking outWe dig into what the next level skills and concepts may be for him to create an even bigger impactSkating Asset deployment Degraded possession vs Improved possessionRush leading to shots createdOZP improving conditions of the puck vs transferring problemChecking leading to change of possession

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The Earth is unique, irreplaceable – it's our home. We can't keep destroying it little by little. So then, why are billionaires more interested in the exploration of other planets instead of restoring our Mother Earth? There is still a chance to save the Earth, and one of these solutions is through regenerative agriculture projects. Neal Spackman is the Founder & CEO of the Regenerative Resources and the Founder & former Director of the Al Baydha project in Saudi Arabia. Regenerative Resources is an ecosystem service company that acquires highly-degraded lands and transforms them into restored ecosystems of agroecologies.  Neal is passionate about terraforming, regenerative agriculture, and the relationship between ecology and wealth. In today's show, Neal walks us through the start of the regenerative agriculture project in a completely degraded desert landscape and how they transformed it into breathtaking, green life agroforestry. He also touches on topics about the poverty degradation trap, the massive effect of deforestation, and nature-based solutions.   -- --

Mongabay Reports is a podcast series that shares evergreen articles from Mongabay.com. A recent study conducted in Malaysian Borneo shows that degraded forests can still provide immense value. The study details five key ecological services provided by degraded forests to Indigenous communities.  Yet a government effort aims to convert degraded forests in Malaysian Borneo into timber plantations, despite the fact that researchers say these ecological services cannot be replaced with plantations.  This episode features the popular article, "Even degraded forests are more ecologically valuable than none, study shows," by Sheryl Lee Tian Tong: https://news.mongabay.com/2022/02/even-degraded-forests-are-more-ecologically-valuable-than-none-study-shows/ Please invite your friends to subscribe to the Mongabay Newscast via Apple Podcasts or wherever they get podcasts, or download our free app in the Apple App Store or in the Google Store to have access to our latest episodes at your fingertips. If you enjoy this series, please visit www.patreon.com/mongabay to pledge a dollar or more to keep the show growing, Mongabay is a nonprofit media outlet and all support helps! See all our latest news from nature's frontline at Mongabay's homepage: news.mongabay.com or find us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram by searching for @mongabay. Photo Credit: Rainforest rainbow in Sabah. Photo credit: Rhett A. Butler/Mongabay

Dr. William Voegeli, senior editor of the Claremont Review of Books, joins Spencer to analyze the Left's increasingly dangerous relationship with crime. Urban Democrats have embraced a counterintuitive policy preference, enabling astonishingly high crime rates rather than working to reduce them. At the heart of it all is an urgent need to explain away violent crime as a cry for help from the perpetrators, rather than an offense against justice in need of redress.