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Welcome to Life in the Leadership Lane where I am talking to leaders making a difference in the workplace and in our communities. How did they get started and what are they doing to stay there! Buckle up and get ready to accelerate in the Leadership Lane! This week, I am talking with Andrew Walker, GMS-T, Global Total Reward Leader at EY, Chairman of the Board at WorldwideERC, and President and Chairman of the Board at Eleven+... How did Andrew get started in his career? What led him to HR and Mobility? How did Andrew “find his lane” in his career? What does Andrew share about EY's employee value proposition? What does Andrew share about mentors in his career? What does Andrew share about championing the underdog? How does Andrew define leadership? What does Andrew share about personal branding and managing up? What does Andrew share about creating more mobility awareness? What does Andrew share about his volunteer leadership? What advice does Andrew share for others to grow in their career? …and more as we spend “Time to Accelerate” with a few more questions. Interview resources: Favorite quote(s) from Andrew: “My purpose is to champion the underdog.” “It's cool to think I was put on this planet to help make the paths for others easier.” Connect with Andrew on LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/andrewpwalker/ Learn more about EY https://www.ey.com/en_gl Learn more about how to support “Eleven+” https://www.eleven-plus.org/ Order Bruce's book “Life in the Leadership Lane” Moving Leaders to Inspire and Change the Workplace. Order Bruce's Book “Find Your Lane” Change your GPS and Change your Career. Order Bruce's Journal “Milemarkers” A 5 Year Journal Visit Bruce's Blog “Move to Inspire” https://brucewaller.com/blog-2/ Connect with Bruce on LinkedIn https://www.linkedin.com/in/brucewaller/ Connect with Bruce on Twitter https://twitter.com/BruceWaller Connect with Bruce on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/bruceww300/ Connect with Bruce on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/brucewwaller Do you need relocation support for your next household goods or commercial office move across the US? Reach out to Bruce or visit Armstrong Relocation https://www.armstrongrelocation.com/ Visit www.brucewaller.com for more information on Life in the Leadership Lane podcast and more!
‘Love Actually', ‘Ocean's Eleven', ‘Boogie Nights', ‘Pulp Fiction'. These are considered to be some of the best ensembles of all time, but did any of them win ‘Best Ensemble' at the Audio Production Awards? Answer: no. But this week Elis James and John Robins certainly did, which you could argue ranks them higher than any other ensemble that came before them. And how does an award winning ensemble celebrate such a victory? By bringing you top quality #content that money just can't buy. There's a shocking update on Producer Dave's Coronation Street saga, a groundbreaking new feature is launched that gives YOU the chance to share your opinions with the nation and Elis discusses the new Beatles documentary in great length (much to John's delight).
Chase P has been mixing tracks for over Eleven years. Part of the Fox Den crew and overall a rad guy and talented artist. He's put together an exclusive mix to kickoff the holiday season with and we fired out a little interview to get you more acquainted with Chase behind the scenes. Where are you from? Helena MT Why did you get into DJing? Watching other dj's while dancing and wanting in on the fun! Dj'ing is also a great way to share your tastes and favorite tracks with friends and strangers. Montana has a lot of great dj's whom I was lucky enough to learn from over the years. What events have you played? I have been super lucky and have had the opportinuty to play many Montana raves like Bloodboath,Shine, Pirate Party. I have also played with Nexus and Funky Town at Burning man and private partys. I cant forget all the fun Missoula and Bozeman bar/club shows with the Foxden family. What inspires you? Music is a constant source of joy and inspiration. I really admire great track selectors and dj's who can read the room. Tell us a little bit about your mix? I wanted to create a mix that was a snap shot of my current favorite artists and genres. I love deep funky psychedeilc grooves and bubbly bass lines. What genres are in your mix? House and minimal techno. Anything else you want us to know? Afterparty at Oz's! Check out more of his mixes at https://soundcloud.com/d2pgreenmachine
A California bear walks into a 7-Eleven; Boston pays city employees who stay home after abortions; Virginia professor helps activists destigmatize pedophilia; Evolutionary biologists try to explain design features in human birth canal; People study rockfish with hopes of extending human life spans; ER doctor records cause of death as "climate change" . . . and other stories reviewed during this November 24, 2021, broadcast of Answers News. - - - - - - - - - - - Were they ashamed when they committed abomination? No, they were not at all ashamed; they did not know how to blush. Therefore they shall fall among those who fall; at the time that I punish them, they shall be overthrown,” says the Lord. - - - - - - - - - - - Jeremiah 6:15 and 8:12 Articles: Bear wanders into 7-Eleven in California, terrifying employee https://www.foxnews.com/lifestyle/bear-wanders-7-eleven-california-terrifying-employee Boston to grant 12 weeks paid leave to city employees who have abortions https://www.lifesitenews.com/news/city-of-boston-employees-have-3-months-off-after-abortion/?utm_source=featured&utm_campaign=usa Transgender Professor At Old Dominion University Rebrands Pedophiles As ‘Minor-Attracted Persons' https://thefederalist.com/2021/11/15/transgender-professor-at-old-dominion-university-rebrands-pedophiles-as-minor-attracted-persons/ Why Do Humans Possess a Twisted Birth Canal? Unraveling an Evolutionary Puzzle https://scitechdaily.com/why-do-humans-possess-a-twisted-birth-canal-unraveling-an-evolutionary-puzzle/ Deep-sea rockfish that live to be 200 hint at genes for longevity https://www.newscientist.com/article/2297261-deep-sea-rockfish-that-live-to-be-200-hint-at-genes-for-longevity/ B.C. doctor clinically diagnoses patient as suffering from ‘climate change' https://www.timescolonist.com/bc-news/bc-doctor-clinically-diagnoses-patient-as-suffering-from-climate-change-4723540 Are scientists contaminating their own samples? New study shows we may be emitting clouds of microfibers https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2021/11/211115123448.htm Pale barn owls in UK and Ireland hint at ancient land bridge https://newscientist.com/article/2297837-pale-barn-owls-in-uk-and-ireland-hint-at-ancient-land-bridge/ - - - - - - - - - - - Photo by: Claudia Wolff unsplash.com/photos/owBcefxgrIE --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/answerstv/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/answerstv/support
Clark Kent uncovers the secret of the Talking Cat. Original Air Date: January 23, 1946
Today's guest is award-winning investigative journalist and best-selling author, M. William Phelps. Inspired by his personal connection to true crime, Phelps has produced and appeared in many true crime TV shows, including “Dark Minds” and “To Catch a Killer,” and consulted on the popular Showtime show, “Dexter.” This year, Phelps launched his podcast, “Crossing the Line” with iHeartRadio, where he covers cases that are rarely discussed in popular media, with a special focus on victims and their families. Bob and Phelps discuss how they handle bad reviews, interviewing serial killers, and disparities in true crime coverage in the media. They also discuss the murder of Patricia, AKA “Patti,” Luce. In 1978, 18-year-old Patti went missing from a 7-Eleven in Connecticut. Less than a year later, her skeletal remains were located in some woods outside of Hartford, about 15 miles from her home. The investigation quickly went cold but testing of evidence in 1997 has led some to believe Patti's case may be connected to several other murders in the area. To suggest a guest or request an interview, please visit us at TrueCrimeBinge.com Follow us on all forms of social media @TrueCrimeBinge Today's Sponsors: skylightframe.com/calendar - Enter code "BINGE" and get $10 off your purchase of a Skylight Calendar. beamorganics.com/binge - Get 40% off the first 3 months of any Beam subscription plus a free mug and frother, or 20% off any one-time purchase. sundancenow.com - Use promo code "binge" for 30 days of free streaming. betterhelp.com/binge - Get 10% off your first month.
Tis the season! Before we dive into weeks of "the war on Christmas", Hallmark movies, overspending, and "holiday cheer", we have to get through a day of overeating, arguing with family about stuff that divides us... and football. If you're into none of that, or if you need an escape, we're here to help.Today we kick things off with us talking about our friendship and how some folks have written in asking if we're being hostile or intentionally "mean" to one another. The answer is neither. We just enjoy razzing one another.O'Dell then kicks off true crime story time with the strange disappearance of the Skelton brothers. 9-year-old Andrew, 7-year-old Alexander and 5-year-old Tanner went missing after spending Thanksgiving day with their father in 2010. Eleven years later, the boys are still missing, and the father's story continues to change.Erin then talks about Paul Merhige, a man who attended Thanksgviing dinner with his family and then proceeded to shoot 4 of them dead. Did he snap, or had he been planning this for a while?We close things out with another reminder that if death wants you, he will find you one way or another which leads to a couple of hypothetical/what if questions before we sign off.Chapters:00:00 - Intro00:42 - Do we like one another?05:39 - Aiden Fucci Update10:19 - O'Dell's Story: The Missing Skelton Brothers41:19 - Erin's Story: Paul Merhige - Murderer58:42- WTF-ery: Death Will Find You1:03:03 - Cleansing the palette with some what ifs?Listen to and chat with us about this episode on Podopolo! https://podopolo.com/podcast/303286Send us a tip: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/LEPodcastsSupport us by becoming a member: https://someoneprobablydied.com/index.php/become-a-member/Leave us a voice message: https://someoneprobablydied.com/index.php/contact-us/Check out our website at https://sixdegreesofwtf.com for more information on this week's episode, including links to resources and videos mentioned during the show.If you have a creepy story or unsolved mystery that you'd like to share with us, send us a message to killerstory@sixdegreesofwtf.comCheck out our social media: https://beacons.page/sixdegreesofwtf
It's a BIG one this week, and not just because we watched episode 7 of Fiveman entitled "The 45m Grade Schooler"! It's that our guest is a horrorcore legend! Coming to us from Omaha, curtesy of Cutthroat Productions, we have the amazing Sam "Komatose" Rocha on the show! Join us as we discuss coffee instructions, Hippo Dash, Butterfingers, Mic Stan, "I, Madman", pumpkins, Mr. Belvedere, J-Horror, mania, heart attacks, Halloween Kills, swinging, pirating our guest's music, flange effects, dinner tables, closet sleeping, our friend Eleven, Mexican-American history, producing woes, & more! Listen to Komatose's music on all music platforms and on cutthroatproductions.bandcamp.com (we'd suggest "The Uglier" as a starting off point), hear him discuss food on "Faturday Omaha", be on the lookout for his film "Fowl Uprising" coming to TromaNow later this year from his production company "Omahero Films", and watch him play games and perform live over at Twitch.tv/LiveFromStudioC! Want to hear more from your favorite Marsh Land Media hosts? Hear exclusive shows, podcasts, and content by heading to Patreon.com/MLMpod! Have fan mail, fan art, projects you want us to review, or whatever you want to send us? You can ship directly to us using "James McCollum, PO Box 180036, 2011 W Montrose Ave, Chicago, IL 60618"! Please, learn about Black Lives Matter, the protests, and find ways to donate at https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/. Follow the podcast on Facebook & Twitter @MSSPod, on Instagram @MSSPodcast! Watch James' "Mostly Playin' PlayStation" and our live streams on the MSS YouTube channel! On top of streaming on Facebook & YouTube, we also simul-stream at Twitch.tv/MostlySpeakinSentai! Listen to James' rap music under Marsh Land Monster on Spotify, Apple Music, Google Play, & more by clicking HERE. Send us a voice mail to be played on the show at (224) 900-7644! Nicole's Patreon is live! Check out www.Patreon.com/DarlingHombody for more details! Plus, head over to www.DarlingHomebody.com for all her art, the web comic Crumb Bums we make together, buy her merchandise, & watch her draw Gorma creations from the podcast! You can also buy her artwork on shirts and more on threadless.com/@darlinghomebody! Find her @DarlingHomebody on Instagram, Tumblr and Etsy! Buy her wares! Go purchase some of our original Sentai monster designs on RedBubble then post a pic on social media of you wearing the threads! www.redbubble.com/people/MSSPod/portfolio Find out more about James' other podcasts "What The Hellmouth?!" @WTHMPod on Twitter," I'll Get There", "Hit It & Crit It", and "This Movie's Gay" @ThisMoviesGay on Twitter, on our website, www.MLMPod.com!!! Plus, download James' new album "King Keizer X"!
Despite some technical problems, we pulled off the MoeCast Miracle Episode. We kick it off with a quick conversation about the NL Cy Young (9:42). We then have an interview with now-three-time guest Taylor Kyles diving into the Patriots, talking about his work with Next Gen Stats, discussing some movies and much more (15:14). We round out our football talk with a breakdown of NFL Week 11 (53:13). We then wrap with our segments Who's Hot and Who's Not (84:00) and Shoutout of the Week (95:45). Enjoy!
Peterson returns! Joining Aaron and JD, the indomitable Peterson dives right back into the mess that is the gaming industry by breaking down the latest Activision drama from Bobby Kotick. We also dig more into the GTA remaster debacle and talk about what Warner Bros. properties we want to see in the Smash Bros.-esque Multiversus. Then we wrap up with foodio games straight outta the 7-Eleven - stick around for JD's ICEE mind bender.
Jon Francois & Andrew Vandertunt discuss Thanksgiving dinner at 7 Eleven,
雖然沒有自立封王 雖然最近戰績很低迷 但進台灣大賽的可是我們啊~ 信心多一點~期待美好的果實再次品嚐到吧~ 有想法或給光頭個人建議 或是想參與獅迷福來拉里歐 可以私訊給光頭大叔 sam690729@gmaiil.com 單元內容 ‧獅頭開胃小冷盤：有關獅隊冷知識的小題目 ‧獅言獅語：光頭聊聊天時間 ‧獅迷福來拉里歐：獅迷給球隊建言與打氣 ‧猛獅戰報：上週比賽戰報 ‧紅燒獅子頭：上週投打MVP ‧良獅益友：上週表現優秀選手 ‧獅意不失志：上週表現不佳選手 ‧獅裂戰場：新一週備戰 ‧飛行獅盒子：新一週可望達成的紀錄 ★播放之開頭與結尾曲由統一7-ELEVEN獅授權使用★ 本單元針對統一7-ELEVEN獅每週戰況進行戰報 純粹以球迷視角~不專業勿戰 大叔決定開放贊助 希望能借由贊助，提昇節目品質，最終希望為台灣棒球儘一份力 ★https://www.zeczec.com/projects/BaseballUncle543★ 有興趣合作的廠商歡迎私訊或email聊聊 email：baseballuncle543@outlook.com IG：baseballuncle543 FB：大叔野球543
Listen into the 40 lap showdown in the dirt series at the dirt track at Las Vegas.
On This Episode Of The Prime Nostalgia Podcast We're Celebrating The 20th Anniversary Of A Classic Heist Movie In Ocean's Eleven! Starring A Great Cast Mainly George Cloney & Brad Pitt Follow Leeboy @LeeBoyTV Follow Prime @Kvngprimetime Follow The Podcast @Primenostalgiapod --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app
It's This Week in Bourbon for November 19th 2021. Here's the headlines for this week: Buffalo Trace announced that it will be dropping the word “Jr.” from Stagg Jr. Drizly shares the data collected for gift-giving whiskeys. Old Elk Infinity Blend is the best blend created by Master Distiller Greg Metze.Show Notes: Buffalo Trace announced that it will be dropping the word “Jr.” from its highly sought-after Stagg Jr. brand. TTB Approved 179.6K Products in the last 12 months through October 2021. Californian winemakers are venturing into other premium beverages. Jack Daniel Distillery donates $100,000 to Armed Services YMCA (ASYMCA) for “Operation Ride Home”. Chris Nolan recieved "ESPRIT DE CORPS" award from the KDA Copperworks Distilling Co. is crowdfunding for a new expansion. Drizly shares the data collected for gift-giving whiskeys. Drizly has announced a collaboration with 7-Eleven. Sonoma-Cutrer and Woodford Reserve announce a $50,000 joint donation to No Kid Hungry. A new study comes out that says drinking above the age of 70 is good for heart health. New Holland Spirits of Holland, MI will release Zeppelin Bend 10yr. Castle & Key Distillery is officially launching a series of Restoration Rye Single Barrels. Treaty Oak Ghost Hill Texas Bourbon No. 1767 is set to be released. Heaven's Door has collaborated with MGM Resorts on an exclusive limited-edition bourbon, 777 Blend. Maverick Whiskey is releasing its limited-edition Samuel Maverick Barrel Proof Straight Bourbon Whiskey. Old Elk Distillery recently unveiled a new limited edition expression, the Old Elk Infinity Blend. @kentuckybourbontrail @buffalotracedistillery @jackdaniels_us @copperworksdist @drizlyinc @woodfordreserve @sonomacutrer @newhollandspirits @castleandkey @treatyoak @maverickwhiskey @oldelkbourbon @heavensdoorwhiskey Support this podcast on Patreon
A chatter of parakeets can be heard at Auckland Zoo, rare ones at that. Eleven kākāriki karaka, or orange-fronted parakeets, have been hatched there in the past few weeks and more are expected. They're Aotearoa's rarest parakeet and the super special chicks are not naturally found in the city, with their usual home much further south. Auckland Zoo birdman Carl Ashworth explains how the chicks are doing.
With the North American theatrical release of Gintama THE VERY FINAL soon approaching, we are happy to be joined by Social Media Manager and Content Producer for Eleven Arts, Shelby, as we discuss... Go to www.GintamaPodcast.com for full show notes.
As the battle rockets toward a conclusion, our heroes find themselves low on health, spell slots, and options. Trapped between a rock and a 300-foot drop, can they dig deep enough to survive this wild ride? Full steam ahead, folks! It's gonna be a white-knuckle finish! In a land ravaged by a magical cataclysm, a small band of heroes rides in search of answers, revenge, and redemption. Join them as they adventure across the wild and wonderful land of Utaram! Starring: Connie Chang as Chang Hushi (Goliath Chronurgy Wizard) Jonathan Charles as Onuris Budge (Simic Hybrid Moon Druid/Beast Barbarian) Jasper William Cartwright as Tovo "Rust" Reeves (Reborn Tiefling Gunsmith Artificer) Luyanda Unati Lewis-Nyawo as Panya (Kalashtar Great Devourer Warlock) Emily Axford as Lu'luh Jacksplit (Aasimar Glory Paladin) and Jeremy Cobb as our Resident DM! If you enjoy this podcast please help us out by leaving a review and sharing it with your fellow adventurers. Want more 3BH in your life? You can now buy merchandise here! Support us on Patreon at patreon.com/tbhalflings for your Shirefolk Shoutout and Bonus Episodes including Campfire Chats where we dive into each episode of Outlaws & Obelisks Connect with us on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook @tbhalflings, on our Discord, or email secondbreakfast@tbhalflings.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
Ch 10 -- The narrator and Billy merge in DresdenWARNING: These episodes are intended as a supplement to the reading. Anything revealed in a section is subject to a "what we know so far" discussion, with a greater than 0% chance of related speculation. We always avoid spoilers, BUT, if a close-reading reveals secrets left obscure to a casual reader... be warned. Please, keep comments relevant to the current episode. We'd like to encourage you to "like" the podcast if you do. Subscribe, tell your friends and leave us friendly or constructive comments. All of these help us grow and learn. Patreon -- This option is for those who love what we're doing and just can't live without us. Your contributions will help us cover the costs of the RSS feed, logo design, hardware upgrades, etc. https://www.patreon.com/user?u=47998540Instagram -- Follow SFFRA for episode announcements and general podcast info @scifi_fantasy_read_along If you'd like to contact us directly, use the following email: scifiandfantasyreadalong@gmail.com Thank you to Setuniman for letting us use his beautiful piano loop. https://freesound.org/people/Setuniman/ The cover art from the novel used in our thumbnail is by Dominic Harman. ISBN: 978-0-547-72202-3 Welcome! We're so happy you found us ;)
It's deeply embarrassing for a queer podcast to go 3+ years without featuring the founder of an animal rescue, but that all ends TODAY! Natalie Garcia lost her dog Maggie Mae in an unthinkable accident, but the tragedy inspired her to create MaeDay Rescue. Eleven years later, MaeDay is one of the most popular rescues in Los Angeles - in fact, it's where Nicole got Dobby! Eventually we manage to pull ourselves away from talking about dogs long enough to dig into Natalie's coming out story, which begins at the tender age of fourteen. Natalie discusses being part of her high school's "popular straight girls group," and how coming out set her off on a different path from those friends. She also shares the VERY dramatic story of reconnecting with her high school girlfriend years later, and the time she and her date found out they were actually related. All this, plus auditory cameos from *several* pets!Follow Natalie on Instagram at @nataliewould, and follow MaeDay Rescue everywhere at @maedayrescue. Also check out @maedayoutpost, and maedayrescue.com!
You know it's a good episode when you have more than one great episode title to choose from. This is one of those episodes. Our theme song is by the amazing musician and composer Kitch Membery. Check out his music at KitchMusic.com. Please subscribe and review! You can find us on Instagram @mymistakepodcast and on Facebook at My Mistake, The Podcast. You can email us at mymistakepodcast@gmail.com.
If there was one thing you think society should talk more about, what would it be?“Society needs to talk about the state of homelessness for older people, especially women over 50. Many of whom find themselves without superannuation or even a fair deal when a marriage breaks down if they haven't had visibility over the family finances or everything they own has been run through the ‘company'. ___________ Marina Go is as dynamic as they come. Such an impressive human and we had so much to talk about when I first interviewed her - we decided to do another episode! Marina has a lot going on! She's currently the Chair of Netball Australia, Ovarian Cancer Australia and The Walkley Foundation, and a non-executive director on the boards of Energy Australia, 7-Eleven, Autosports Group, Pro-Pac, Adore Beauty and Booktopia. She was recently appointed to the board of Transurban. She is a member of UNSW's Business Advisory Council and ANU's Centre for Asian-Australian Leadership (CAAL) Advisory Board, and author of the business book for women, Break Through: 20 Success Strategies for Female Leaders. Boss magazine named Marina as one of the 20 True Leaders of 2016. Marina has over 30 years of leadership experience in the media industry, having started her career as a journalist. Her media exec roles are extensive and she was also the former chair of the West Tigers NRL Club - which we'll get more into today. Marina's media executive roles included Private Media CEO and Head of the Hearst JV at Bauer Media and held leadership roles at ACP, Fairfax and EMAP Australia. Marina is also a former Chair of the Wests Tigers NRL Club, Chair of the Super Netball Commission and was the inaugural Chair of the UTS Centre for Media Transition Advisory Board. She is a member of O'Connell Street Associates, Chief Executive Women (CEW) and the Australian Institute of Company Directors (AICD). Marina has been actively progressing equitable outcomes for women and culturally diverse Australians in her working life and as a volunteer for more than three decades. If you can't tell, you're about to hear from one incredibly impressive lady. Our conversation is real, authentic and interesting as Marina has had one phenomenal career. But what I hope you also hear is that she's a really lovely person. Genuine, articulate about her values and such an advocate for women. It's an absolute pleasure to have her on the show - please enjoy this wonderful conversation with Marina Go. Connect and find out more about Marina here;-We talked about Marina's new publication, a collaboration with some of her mates - find it here: https://tonicmag.com.au/Links and Social Media LInkedin: linkedin.com/in/marinagoTwitter: @marinasgoAnd for more information about the Wabi Sabi Series, please find us here:-Website - The Wabi Sabi Series Connect with us on Instagram here:- @thewabisabiseriesConnect with us on Facebook here - @thewabisabiseriesIf you have a burning topic you'd love society to talk more about, or know someone who'd be great to come on our podcast, drop us a line at hello@wabisabiseries.com
好好的氣勢與局勢 就這樣煮粥了 一定都要搞到最後一週才好玩嗎?? 有想法或給光頭個人建議 或是想參與獅迷福來拉里歐 可以私訊給光頭大叔 sam690729@gmaiil.com 單元內容 ‧獅頭開胃小冷盤：有關獅隊冷知識的小題目 ‧獅言獅語：光頭聊聊天時間 ‧獅迷福來拉里歐：獅迷給球隊建言與打氣 ‧猛獅戰報：上週比賽戰報 ‧紅燒獅子頭：上週投打MVP ‧良獅益友：上週表現優秀選手 ‧獅意不失志：上週表現不佳選手 ‧獅裂戰場：新一週備戰 ‧飛行獅盒子：新一週可望達成的紀錄 ★播放之開頭與結尾曲由統一7-ELEVEN獅授權使用★ 本單元針對統一7-ELEVEN獅每週戰況進行戰報 純粹以球迷視角~不專業勿戰 大叔決定開放贊助 希望能借由贊助，提昇節目品質，最終希望為台灣棒球儘一份力 ★https://www.zeczec.com/projects/BaseballUncle543★ 有興趣合作的廠商歡迎私訊或email聊聊 email：baseballuncle543@outlook.com IG：baseballuncle543 FB：大叔野球543
Holiday Pile - 7 Eleven Turkey Sandwich & Getting High at ThanksgivingSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
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Watch the episode at https://youtu.be/pJbMXDVBaeM You can support this ministry at Patreon.com/Satanism
Every so often there's a story told to Big Mama that stops him dead in his tracks. These are the greatest stories never told, LIVE and on-air, with Big Mama & WiLD Bunch. Today's story is about a woman who met a man at a local 7-Eleven, got married after knowing him for two weeks, […] The post The Greatest Stories Never Told: Thrown off a Balcony appeared first on B1039.
Eleven players play, eleven players score as Drake shows off its depth in 99-50 victory over South Dakota. Michael Admire wraps up the win with post-game interviews with Coach DeVries and Roman Penn.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.
Sam Goldman and Coco Das discuss the Kyle Rittenhouse trial in the proper context of the fascist movement he is a part of. Recommended reading: Coco's recent article The Rittenhouse Trial and Two Sides in Contention: A Beautiful Rising or Rising Fascism and Reflections on Kenosha by Paul Street. Follow Coco Das on Twitter at @Coco_Das and Paul at @Streetwriter17 We're continuing to pay special attention to the three trials with tremendous stakes: In Charlottesville, Virginia: The federal civil trial of 24 white supremacist groups and individuals who came to Charlottesville in August 2017 and unleashed fascist violence that led to the murder of Heather Heyer. In Brunswick, Georgia: the case against Gregory McMichael, Travis McMichael, and William Bryan who are on trial for hunting down and murdering Ahmaud Arbery, an unarmed 25-year-old Black man who was out on a jog. And in Madison, Wisconsin: The criminal murder trial for Kyle Rittenhouse who traveled with an AR-15 to a Black Lives Matter protest in Kenosha where he shot and killed two protesters and wounded another. All three concentrate the fascist mobs and threats of violence that are being unleashed to build the fascist movement and consolidate power & it reflects the ways in which there is an assault on the rule of law in this country and the most vicious overt white supremacy that threads it all together. ALSO: Penn America released a report this week exposing what they are calling educational gag orders that outline how lawmakers in nearly half the country this year have tried to muzzle educators in regards to topics that include racism, sexism, and American history. As detailed in the report from January to September, a total of 54 bills concerning K-12 schools, higher education institutions and state agencies were introduced, the report says. Eleven of those bills have become laws in nine states, including Texas, Tennessee and Oklahoma. Read more here: pen.org/report/educational-gag-orders * * * After the discussion with Coco Das, Sam interviews Vara Ramakrishinan with Strike for Choice on their plans to take action on Dec 1 and how you can join. Dec 1 is the day the Supreme Court will hear Dobbs vs Whole Womens Health, the case poses which an imminent threat to abortion rights and the possible wholesale gutting of Roe v Wade. You can take action wherever you are to refuse to go along with the evisceration of this essential right with the hashtag #StrikeForChoice. Find out more at www.strikeforchoice.org * * * Send your comments about the Refuse Fascism podcast to samanthagoldman@refusefascism.org or @SamBGoldman. Or leave a voicemail at 917-426-7582 or on https://anchor.fm/refuse-fascism/message. Connect with the movement at RefuseFascism.org and support: Venmo: @Refuse-Fascism Cashapp: @RefuseFascism paypal.me/refusefascism donate.refusefascism.org Music for this episode: Penny the Snitch by Ikebe Shakedown --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/refuse-fascism/message
Photo: This photograph of an Afghan water mill is from an album of rare historical photographs depicting people and places associated with the Second Anglo-Afghan War. The mill, rectangular shaped with a thatched roof, was probably operated on a part-time basis by the family pictured in the photograph. The water mill is a traditional design with a small horizontal mill-house built of stone, or perhaps mud bricks. The men look directly at the camera, but a woman wearing a chador partially screens her face for modesty. Eleven Weeks after the Tragedy: #ClassicLongWarJournal: @BillRoggio and @ThomasJoscelyn #UNBOUND the complete, forty-minute interview, October 18, 2021. @LongWarJournal.
We start the pod off shitting on the Raiders. We tie in some NFL talk and our thoughts on where OBJ is going. We move on giving our thoughts on how we see the current CFP layout and who the final 4 teams will be. Next we speak on Kanye's Drink Champs interview and how he's open to a Verzuz. We then speak on Travis Scott, the tragedy of Astroworld and how he's seen in the public eye. We finish the pod speaking on Summer Walker and Wale's new albums. Thank you for the continued support and as always please like, share and comment.
A five-leg college football parlay. Eleven picks in Bonus Time. And, of course, the usual Fade Five. To say today's episode is packed would be an understatement. Brad rolls out his favorite NFL player props with Tyler Lockett, Kirk Cousins, Cordarrelle Patterson, Javonte Williams and Aaron Jones. Surprisingly, he actually likes a few Under bets this week. In Bonus Time, Nate has a two-leg NHL parlay along with picks for Wyoming and Boise State tonight. And the guys wrap things up with a few college basketball picks to kick off the weekend.
After a painful loss, our heroes find themselves onboard a train packed to the gills with Barbarossa gang members. It's time to fill your hands and grit your teeth! Next stop: all-out war!! In a land ravaged by a magical cataclysm, a small band of heroes rides in search of answers, revenge, and redemption. Join them as they adventure across the wild and wonderful land of Utaram! Starring: Connie Chang as Chang Hushi (Goliath Chronurgy Wizard) Jonathan Charles as Onuris Budge (Simic Hybrid Moon Druid/Beast Barbarian) Jasper William Cartwright as Tovo "Rust" Reeves (Reborn Tiefling Gunsmith Artificer) Luyanda Unati Lewis-Nyawo as Panya (Kalashtar Great Devourer Warlock) Emily Axford as Lu'luh Jacksplit (Aasimar Glory Paladin) and Jeremy Cobb as our Resident DM! If you enjoy this podcast please help us out by leaving a review and sharing it with your fellow adventurers. Want more 3BH in your life? You can now buy merchandise here! Support us on Patreon at patreon.com/tbhalflings for your Shirefolk Shoutout and Bonus Episodes including Campfire Chats where we dive into each episode of Outlaws & Obelisks Connect with us on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook @tbhalflings, on our Discord, or email secondbreakfast@tbhalflings.com See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
This is a book talk that I gave in Laguna Woods about "Eleven eleven" in 2019. The information still applies. Jennifer was busy today and could not participate in the podcast. This is a 90 minute book talk, so for those who can handle me speaking non stop for two hours, this is for you. Talk was given for the "Life After Life" club in Laguna Woods that covers my journey into the flipside, as well as some of the latest reports. Refers to books "Flipside" "It's a wonderful afterlife" "Hacking the Afterlife" and "Backstage Pass to the Flipside: Talking to the Afterlife with Jennifer Shaffer." Cites sessions from Scott De Tamble (lightbetweenlives.com) and Jennifer Shaffer (JenniferShaffer.com). 90 minutes of Flipside tales. By the way, during the talk, I mention how Dr. Eben Alexander was guided around his near death experience by his sister who "died before he was born." I'm told that she died "a month before his birth family reached out to him." So he did not know her, could not have known her, but when he met her during his near death event, felt "as if he had known her forever." Enjoy.
Give us about ten minutes a day and we will give you all the local news, local sports, local weather, and local events you can handle. SPONSORS: Many thanks to our sponsors... Solar Energy Services because solar should be in your future! The Kristi Neidhardt Team. If you are looking to buy or sell your home, give Kristi a call at 888-860-7369! And Hospice of the Chesapeake Today...A man was pistol-whipped and carjacked in Glen Burnie. An Eastport woman was scammed out of $20,000. The AAEDC has already doled out grants for tornado victims. Dunkin is having a grand opening. 7-Eleven has amazing cookies. Trevor was on The Mike O'Meara Show yesterday. And we'll be at Heroes Pub today at noon to kick off the Who's Your Hero? program with Budweiser and the Military Bowl. And most importantly, pause to thank a Veteran! It's Thursday, which means that Trevor from Annapolis Makerspace is here with your Maker Minutes with great ideas to work out your mind and hone your skills. And as usual, George from DCMDVA Weather is here with your local weather forecast! Please download their APP so you can keep on top of the local weather scene! The Eye On Annapolis Daily News Brief is produced every Monday through Friday at 6:00 am and available wherever you get your podcasts and also on our social media platforms--All Annapolis and Eye On Annapolis (FB) and @eyeonannapolis (TW) NOTE: For hearing impaired subscribers, a full transcript is available on Eye On Annapolis
Schwarzbunt | Der Theken-Podcast mit Herrn Berger und dem Köhler
Herr Berger und der Köhler sind begeister von Thomas Gottschalk und seinem überragendem Abend bei Wetten dass..? - die beiden gehören einfach zusammen. Köhler wird mit ein paar Experten-Fragen zu Wetten dass..? gegrillt und dann kramen die beiden einige Details und Erinnerungen an diese große Samstagabendshow raus. Heute ist der 11.11. - das heißt der Karneval geht los. Natürlich auch ein Thema für unsere zwei rheinischen Jungs. Viel Spaß beim Zuhören.
0:00:00 - Intro 0:02:32 - Even If You Slit My Mouth Chapter 2 0:09:54 - Dandadan Chapter 31 0:18:41 - Neru: Way of the Martial Artist Chapter 17 0:31:02 - Don't Blush, Sekime-san! Chapter 31 0:36:45 - 'Tis Time for "Torture," Princess Chapter 119 0:41:53 - PPPPPP Chapter 8 0:48:47 - Ayakashi Triangle Chapter 67 0:56:33 - Sakamoto days Chapter 46 1:04:14 - Blue Box Chapter 28 1:13:23 - Witch Watch Chapter 37 1:21:35 - The Hunters Guild: Red Hood Chapter 18 Support us on our Patreon @ patreon.com/weirdsciencemanga for early access to 14 episodes of the Manga Monday Show and exclusive content like out weekly Picks of the Month Podcast Follow us on Twitter (We follow everyone back!) @weirdmanga Email us @ weirdsciencemanga@gmail.com Check out the other Weird Science Podcasts Weird Science DC Comics Podcast & Weird Science Marvel Comics Podcast
Clark Kent hopes to follow a musical clue to the Star and Crescent gang. Original Air Date: December 18, 1945
1:48:16 – Chad Bowers!! Doc Sleaze!! Frank Edward Nora!! Celebrating eleven years of the Central by looking at Eleven!! Next: Astrology This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 United States License. Overall attribution by PQ Ribber , all other hosts appear courtesy of themselves. Released November 2021 on The Overnightscape Underground (onsug.com), an Internet talk […]
上週四戰全勝，加上中信兄弟表現不佳 魔術數字終於點亮了~想必在台南草皮上聽歌的獅迷，心情特別高興 有想法或給光頭個人建議 或是想參與獅迷福來拉里歐 可以私訊給光頭大叔 sam690729@gmaiil.com 單元內容 ‧獅頭開胃小冷盤：有關獅隊冷知識的小題目 ‧獅言獅語：光頭聊聊天時間 ‧獅迷福來拉里歐：獅迷給球隊建言與打氣 ‧猛獅戰報：上週比賽戰報 ‧紅燒獅子頭：上週投打MVP ‧良獅益友：上週表現優秀選手 ‧獅意不失志：上週表現不佳選手 ‧獅裂戰場：新一週備戰 ‧飛行獅盒子：新一週可望達成的紀錄 ★播放之開頭與結尾曲由統一7-ELEVEN獅授權使用★ 本單元針對統一7-ELEVEN獅每週戰況進行戰報 純粹以球迷視角~不專業勿戰 大叔決定開放贊助 希望能借由贊助，提昇節目品質，最終希望為台灣棒球儘一份力 ★https://www.zeczec.com/projects/BaseballUncle543★ 有興趣合作的廠商歡迎私訊或email聊聊 email：baseballuncle543@outlook.com IG：baseballuncle543 FB：大叔野球543
Exhibition Recap(s); Zag Non-Conference Segment; Preview of Dixie St. and Texas Games. Enjoy!
Jury selection in the trial of three men accused in the murder of Ahmaud Arbery concluded amid controversy inside and outside the courtroom. Following that, the state and lawyers for Travis McMichael and his father Greg McMichael gave powerful opening statements. Join host Bill Rankin as he explores these developments and looks ahead in the trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
This retelling comes from Genesis 37, 39-45, and it appears in Blood Covenant Origins: Biblical Retellings. Introduction: Joseph is one of my favorite biblical characters; he's such a great example of faith. It took thirteen years for his reversal of fortune to finally occur, and another nine years after that for the complete fulfillment of God's promise to him. Yet if he ever wavered in his faith that God would fulfill what He showed him in his two dreams, we have no record of it. This is even more incredible when you consider that Joseph had no written scriptures to cling to like we do. He wouldn't have even had an oral tradition of previous faith heroes similar to himself. While Abraham his grandfather had to wait 25 years for the promised child, the circumstances had little in common with Joseph's own circumstances. He couldn't read about the 13-17 years between King David's anointing and when he finally became king, for instance. Moses had not yet written Deuteronomy, telling him all the blessings he could expect if he remained faithful to the Lord. All Joseph had to go on were two cryptic dreams… but it was enough. It's fitting that the first dream showed his brothers' sheaves of grain bowing down to his, considering it was the famine and grain distribution that propelled him to second in command of Egypt in the end. The one charge leveled against Joseph by some is that he started out arrogant: after all, what was he thinking, telling his brothers (whom he knew already envied him, due to his father's blatant favoritism) that God had told him he would rule over them? Maybe this was arrogance, or at best, a decided lack of wisdom. He was only seventeen at the time, after all. Also, with the exception of the death of his mother when Benjamin was born, Joseph had presumably lived a charmed life: the coat of many colors that Jacob had given him was the attire of a great landowner, even though Joseph was the second youngest of twelve brothers. (Pretty foolish of Jacob, too.) It's no wonder this galled them. Even so, their response to him shows how evil his brothers were, at that point. Had they not sold Joseph into slavery, they very well might have killed him—that was what they meant to do at first, after all. Despite this, despite slavery and then imprisonment, God said Joseph was prosperous and successful (Genesis 39:2-3, 23). Even though Joseph himself was not paid for any of his work, the blessing of the Lord was upon him, and therefore his master got blessed because of him. This is an interesting concept, that the overflow of God's blessing upon us (Deuteronomy 28:2) can affect those around us who just happen to be in the way—including our bosses in this case, or our families as well (1 Corinthians 7:14). Joseph also happened to be very handsome (Genesis 39:6)—ordinarily a blessing, but under the circumstances it was a curse, as he drew the eye of Potiphar's wife. If she was this aggressive, probably this wasn't the first time she had cheated on Potiphar. I suspect that the other servants, and maybe even Potiphar himself could compare what they knew of her and what they knew of Joseph and deduce the truth. But if Potiphar did not choose to believe Joseph, what could the other servants do? And wouldn't it have disrupted Potiphar's life more to have believed Joseph? He surely couldn't have kept Joseph in his house with his wife; he had to get rid of one of them. So in my retelling, I assumed that Potiphar's pride forced him to believe his wife, even though deep down he knew the truth. I would imagine that if he had truly believed his wife's accusation, he would have had Joseph killed, rather than merely thrown into prison. So Joseph started out with two dreams of greatness, which led directly to his being sold into slavery for a decade (deduced from his age at the time he was sold, the number of years he was in prison, and his age when he was finally promoted). At the end of the decade, Joseph refused to commit adultery and sin against God (very interesting that he phrased it that way, Genesis 39:9)—yet for his integrity, he got thrown into prison. Most people would be bitter at this point, but“until the time that His word came to pass, the word of the Lord tested [Joseph]” (Psalm 105:19). Joseph was holding fast to the word that the Lord had given him through those dreams, even when it looked like every circumstance in his life was heading in the wrong direction. He did not yet know Galatians 6:9, but he seemed to understand the principle: “let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” Joseph continued to exhibit diligence and faithfulness in prison, and he must have even kept up a contagious good attitude—we can intuit this because when the butler and baker each had dreams, Joseph said to them, “Why do you look so sad today?” (Genesis 40:7). You'd think they would look sad because they were in prison without cause! But apparently their distress was unusual. Under Joseph's rule, the prison had become a cheerful place. Moreover, Joseph was not merely sulking about his own misfortune; he knew and cared about the other prisoners. Colossians 3:17 says, “And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.” Fictionalized Retelling: I whistled, absently twirling the cord of the colorful tunic Father had given me as I made my way back out to the fields where my brothers tended the sheep. I couldn't stop smiling, couldn't think about anything except the dream I had had last night. In it, the sun, moon, and eleven stars had bowed down to me! I pictured this over and over, relishing the thrill of it, knowing that these celestial bodies represented my entire family. I was already my father's favorite, but the Lord confirmed it—I was to be the greatest of them all! Moreover, it was the second dream of its kind; in the first, a few days ago, eleven sheaves of wheat bowed down to my sheaf. I knew upon waking what it meant: all of my brothers would bow down to me one day. I told them so the next morning. It went over went about as well as I'd expected. They already envied me, and my little brother Benjamin: we were our father's favorite, the only two sons of our mother Rachel, the woman Father had truly loved. He was duped into marrying Rachel's sister Leah, and then in a competition to see who could bear Father more sons, both sisters had given their maids to bear children when it seemed that Mother was barren. I was the first child to open her womb, and so I was much favored even from birth. Father didn't even try to hide it—in fact, he'd given me as a gift the multicolored tunic I now wore, of the same style as the owners of the great estates. This galled my brothers; it was a preference that should have belonged to Reuben as the eldest, and only after our father's death. Yet here I was dressed as the heir, the second youngest of twelve, while our father yet lived. I might have felt guilty for my father's obvious preference for me, but quite frankly, I could hardly blame him. My brothers were self-centered, lazy, and cruel. God clearly preferred me over them, also! Had I doubted it at all after the first dream, the second one clinched it. Would I somehow become a king? Maybe a neighboring nation would offer their princess's hand to me in marriage… that was possible, as I was the favored son of a great man, and I was also exceptionally good looking. I didn't say so out loud, nor did anyone say it to me… but I saw the way all the young women gazed after me with longing and admiration. I knew. But, it couldn't be marriage to a princess, I mused, because then I would only be a consort, and not the king. Unless it was of a nation with different customs, in which a king could ascend to the throne by marriage… “Oh look, here comes the dreamer!” sneered Simeon as I approached. He and Levi mock-bowed to me. “So! You're going to rule us? You're going to boss us around?” Simeon taunted. I shrugged. “I was just telling you what the Lord told me.” “Oh, sure,” cried Levi, “and I had a dream I'm going to have a harem like Pharaoh, every concubine more beautiful than the last. I know it's true, because I dreamt it!” I bristled, knowing he was trying to get a rise out of me, but unable to keep myself from responding. “I know it's true, and irrevocable, because I had another dream last night just like it! This time, the sun, moon, and the eleven stars bowed down to me!” Levi's expression froze for a beat. In that half a second, I knew he believed me. Simeon recovered first. “Oooh, bow down, guys!” cried Simeon, waving his hands in the air, “bow down to our perfect baby brother, the future ruler of the entire universe!” Every time one of my brothers caught sight of me for the rest of the day, he made me an elaborate bow. They continued mocking me before my father and stepmothers that evening once we came in from the fields, compelling my father to ask what they meant by it. When he did, Issachar taunted, “Ask your little prince here! He's got it in his head that he's going to be greater than all of us put together!” Father turned to me with a frown. “Joseph? What are they talking about?” Feeling slightly abashed, I repeated my dreams, and my father, predictably, rebuked me. “What's with all this dreaming? Am I and your mother and your brothers all supposed to bow down to you?” “I don't know,” I muttered, “you're the one who taught me that the Lord speaks in dreams, remember?” “Give him a pretty tunic, and suddenly he thinks he's God Almighty!” cried Zebulun. But I saw my father's thoughtful expression: he believed me, too. He had taught me that the Lord often spoke in dreams. He himself had a dream of a ladder from heaven to earth, with angels ascending and descending upon it—echoing the first dream God had given to our ancestor Abraham, in which He had cut a covenant with him. In another dream, the Lord had told my father to go home to Canaan. Father had also told me of how God had appeared to my grandfather Laban in a dream when he had fled from him, telling Laban to be careful what he said when he next encountered Father. Father knew of the power of dreams to both instruct and to prophesy. He knew my dreams must have significance, particularly since I had dreamt two that were very similar. But how could I, the second youngest son of twelve, come to rule over the other eleven? I had the same question myself—that was why I'd shared the vision. I realized, after today's taunting, that doing so had been foolish. I should have known better, considering my brothers' animosity and my father's obvious preference for me. Yet, why would God give me a dream of my future without interpretation, if He did not mean for me to share it? The next day, my brothers went out from the Valley of Hebron to tend to the flocks out in Shechem. I did not volunteer to go with them, as I preferred to keep my distance from them after the encounter the day before. But my father sent me to them later that day, asking me to send word on how they and the flocks fared. I cringed inwardly, dreading the ongoing heckling, but that was hardly a reason to disobey my father. So I went. I did not find them in Shechem, however. I had to ask directions from another shepherd I came across. “I saw your ten brothers several hours ago,” he told me. “They've left here, but I overheard them say, ‘Let's go to Dothan.'” I tracked them down in Dothan late that afternoon. I saw the flocks first, neglected as usual. I could tell that my brothers had seen me, though they were huddled strangely in the middle of the field, as if having an intense conversation. When I was close enough, I perceived that their council had ended, and they stopped talking, spreading out in a half circle as I approached. Their postures gave me pause: they looked alert, like predators. My steps faltered. “Our father sent me to you to see how you and our flocks fared—” I began. But no sooner had I begun to speak, Judah and Dan started toward me, followed by the other eight. “What are you—ahhhh!” I tried to fight them off as they lunged for me, but at seventeen years old to their late twenties, thirties, and forties, I could not have fought off even one of them, let alone all ten. The blows came at me from all sides. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the ground curled in upon myself, trying in vain to protect my face, which was a swollen, bloody mess. I felt them rip my colorful tunic from me. Then three of them picked me up, carried me a short distance, and cast me down into a dry cistern. I landed with a sickening crunch, and let out a fresh cry of pain. It took me some time to test my feet, and the boundaries of the cistern. I could hear my brothers' voices filtering down from up above me, so they were still there—but they were too far away to make out what they said. I began to cry out, “Help!” When there was no response, I tried again, “Someone let me out! Let down a rope!” I knew they heard me, as they stopped talking—but none of them bothered to help. I could just make out some sort of commotion up above—new voices had joined those of my brothers, interrupting the flow of their conversation, as well as the rumble of wheels and the characteristic jingle of merchandise. I strained to hear what they were saying, but could not. All of a sudden, Zebulun's face appeared up above, backlit by the sun so that I could not make out his expression. He tossed down a rope and said cheerfully, “Grab on, Joseph!” I asked no questions; I grabbed on, as he and Issachar hauled me up, squinting in the brightness when I cleared the top of the cistern. Then I discerned the Midianite traders, their camels laden with spices to sell, and saw the merchants hand silver to my brother Zebulun with a handshake. My eyes widened as I began to understand what was happening. Naphtali and Dan shoved me toward them, and I cried out as the traders caught me and pinned my wrists behind me, binding them and then my feet as they tossed me sideways atop one of their camels. “No, please!” I begged, “please! Help me!” My pleading gaze happened to fall upon Simeon, who sneered, “Let's see what comes of your grandiose dreams now, eh, little brother?” It was the last words any of my brothers spoke to me. After that, the caravan moved on. It was first an uncomfortable, then a painful journey. My position on the camel caused my abdominal muscles to spasm, and blood to pool in my head and feet as I bounced. Before long I had a splitting headache, which was no doubt worsened by my fear, despair, and previous injuries. None of the traders took any notice of me; to them I was only merchandise. The only exception to this was when they stopped to relieve themselves—they unceremoniously unslung me from the camel and made me lift my tunic right there beside it, so that they did not have to unbind me. Days passed—I lost count how many. I was constantly hungry and thirsty. The traders did feed me on bread, water, and strips of dried meat when they stopped, though never enough. I overheard one of them comment, “Don't want him to waste away before he gets to market, or he won't fetch a good price.” It was from this that I understood my fate for certain, though I had suspected before. I was to be sold as a slave. Once we were deep into the desert and there was nowhere I could have gone even if I had escaped, one of the traders unbound my feet so that I could ride astride my camel, rather than tossed over him between his humps like so much cargo. It was amazing what an improvement this made: my headache and abdominal cramps relieved, and at last I had some mental space to think about something besides my physical pain. Lord, I prayed. Then my mind went blank. I was so overwhelmed with my circumstances that I didn't know where to start. I wondered what my brothers would tell my father to explain my disappearance. All I knew for sure was that they would not tell him the truth. They would tell him I'd been killed—they must. How else could they explain my long-term disappearance? I had a vision of my father weeping for me as he had wept for my mother. I saw my little nine-year old brother Benjamin, my only full-blooded brother, weeping beside him. The vision made my chest ache with sorrow and longing. I closed my eyes and shoved it away as tears stung my lashes. I took a deep breath. I'm here now, I told myself, and at least at the moment, there is nothing I can do about it. After another few miles, as the sweat rolled down the sides of my face, I tried praying again. Help me, was all I managed. I had no specifics. I didn't know what else to pray. Presently I overheard some of the traders telling one another that they had made good time: only fifteen days, they said, when the glittering mirage of Egypt appeared on the dusty horizon. At first the sight of it filled me with dread, and terrible visions of oppression, whippings, and chains—but I shut these thoughts down, recognizing the futility of experiencing imaginary hardships before the real ones materialized. Within hours, we were in the heart of the bustling city. I was overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells—never had I seen so many people and animals and buildings all in one place. There was a profusion of both wealth and waste intermingled in a confusing array. The traders allowed me to dismount on my own, but then led me with a vice grip on one arm to a raised platform. I blinked, taken aback, when I saw the lineup of naked men upon it. I had only seconds to process this when the trader who had steered me toward it released my arm and in the same motion produced a knife in one hand, gripping my tunic with the other. Before I knew what he was doing, he had sliced half of it away. I started to resist when another trader pinned me so that the first could finish the job. Seconds later, horror and hot shame rolled over me as the traders shoved me up on the platform with the other woebegone men, my hands now bound behind me so that I could not so much as cover my genitals with my fists. Lord, I cried out in my mind, but again, I could not think how to finish the prayer. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to pretend I was somewhere—anywhere—else. Trying to tune out the jeers and the haggling of the buyers. It had never occurred to me in the long journey to Egypt that the slave trade required nudity, but now suddenly it seemed obvious: buyers wanted to inspect their purchase, to see what they were getting. When the haggling began over me, even though I did not speak their language, I gathered that the bidding was fierce. I heard the note of finality in their voices that I had heard in previous sales when the price was agreed upon, and opened my eyes to behold my new master as he stepped forward. He was a tall, swarthy man—as most of them were—imposing and probably at least twice my age, if not more. I had no experience with Egyptians, but his dress suggested a uniform. I wondered if he was an officer of some kind. The man beckoned me to join him, and I meekly obeyed. Nothing like public nudity to induce humility. He produced a small knife and sliced through the bonds that held my wrists behind me. I rubbed the raw places where the ropes had bitten into my flesh, not even bothering now to use my hands to hide myself. What difference did it make? Everyone who had wanted to had already gotten a good look. Though he could not speak to me, the man produced a simple blue tunic and a length of silken cord to secure it. My eyebrows raised as I saw it: both the dye and the material suggested wealth. I put it on at once, grateful for the renewed dignity. The man gave me a nod, and put a hand on his own chest. “Potiphar,” he pronounced, very slowly. “Potiphar,” I echoed, understanding that my new master was telling me his name. I placed a hand on my own chest and said, “Joseph.” “Joseph,” he echoed, and gave another perfunctory nod, beckoning me to follow. I gaped as I beheld my new home for the first time. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined such opulence as these marble floors, sculpted columns, and dyed silken curtains. I wondered what Pharaoh's palace must be like, if this Potiphar was only one of his officers. Potiphar introduced me to the rest of his household via charade, but I was already starting to pick up a few Egyptian words here and there. I was one of dozens of servants, male and female, their skin ranging from dark to pale and with all sorts of distinctive features of races I had never before beheld. As I made my halting introductions to the staff, an attractive woman in her late twenties approached Potiphar and languidly draped her arm through his. She drew my eye because I felt her gaze upon me, roving over my body in a way that made me feel like I was still naked. She wore fine blue silks, and her arms were spangled with bracelets. From this and from her familiarity with Potiphar, I gathered that she must be either his wife or his mistress. I looked away abruptly. The overseer of the household, an aging man who introduced himself as Babu, took me under his wing. With him, I learned to do all of the various chores, both in the estate and in the fields. Babu was also very patient with me as I learned Egyptian words, and within the next few weeks, I at least knew enough to communicate the essentials with a combination of halting Egyptian and hand gestures. I quickly grew wary of spending too much time indoors, though, as Edrice, whom I learned was in fact Potiphar's wife, always seemed to be wherever I was. She lurked in hallways and lingered in boudoirs, sometimes pretending to be occupied but always with her eyes upon me. At first this was all she did, and I ignored her when I could not avoid her. But as time passed and my Egyptian became more proficient, she began to engage me in smalltalk, which I could not avoid without rudeness. She'd comment on the weather, ask unnecessary questions about the progress of whatever task I was engaged in at the time, or sometimes ask me personal questions about how I had come to be in their household as a slave. I answered as briefly as possible, asked no questions in return, and excused myself. Years passed. In time I grieved the loss of my freedom, my family, and my identity, and I determined that I would do the work the Lord placed before me with all my heart. Babu and then Potiphar took notice of this. Babu, I learned, was beginning to suffer from poor health, and had been hoping to find a replacement for his position. He had recommended me to Potiphar for the job, so that he could take on less responsibility. Suddenly I found myself managing scores of servants on what I later learned was one of the largest estates in Egypt—and actually, I loved it. Even in my father's household, I'd never had either respect or responsibility. Here, I was trusted, and I rose to the challenge. Babu praised my management, telling Potiphar in my hearing that never had his fields or his wealth grown so quickly, never had his affairs run so efficiently, as they did under my care. The only blight upon my surprising happiness was Edrice. She grew increasingly bold over time, when I did not return her attentions to her satisfaction. When she started to inquire about my history with women, and whether I was still a virgin, I began to avoid her outright. At last I hinted about her behavior to Babu, who gave me a knowing glance, and said, “Edrice is a beautiful bird in a gilded cage. She longs for freedom, and will seek it where she can.” I blinked, understanding that he meant to tell me, without telling me, that she had been unfaithful to Potiphar in the past. “Does he know?” I asked at last. Babu hesitated, and then gave a very subtle nod. “Everyone knows.” “What do I do?” I whispered at last. Babu sighed. “I don't see that you can do any more than you have. Avoid her when you can. But do your best not to spurn her outright. Her pride is… easily wounded.” Babu's warning rang in my mind for days, particularly because I had sensed Edrice's growing irritation with me. I needed to appease her. So when I felt her eyes upon me across the room, rather than pretending I did not notice, I looked up and smiled. She blinked, and her scowl softened in response, replaced by a flirtatious gleam in her eye. I panicked and looked away abruptly. I'd meant to appease, not encourage her—but how was I to know the difference? I'd never done this before… She crossed the room to me, and before I knew what was happening, she was beside me, stroking my forearm with her trailing fingers. I was suddenly very aware that we were alone—I had no idea where the nearest servants were. Potiphar was away on Pharaoh's business. “Joseph,” she murmured, as if savoring my name, tracing my bicep with her fingers. “You are… so very handsome.” My heart hammered in my chest, though with fear or with arousal, or a strange combination of both, I could not tell. My throat felt too thick to reply. I just froze. Edrice gave a soft laugh. “I'm making you blush! Oh, I just love virgins…” Her hand trailed from my arm down my torso. I grabbed her wrist before it could descend any further, and found my tongue. “Look, my master doesn't give a second thought to anything that goes on here—he's put me in charge of everything he owns. He treats me as an equal. The only thing he hasn't turned over to me is you. You're his wife!” She puffed out her lower lip. “I know you find me attractive.” This was dangerous territory. There was no safe answer to that question. “That has nothing to do with it,” I insisted. “How could I violate his trust and sin against God?” “God?” she scoffed. “Your God allowed you to be sold as a slave. You owe Him nothing. And Potiphar has never paid you a day's wages in the almost ten years you've been with us. Don't you think it's time you got a little… reward?” The hand I had not seized by the wrist also went exploring before I took hold of it too. “I cannot do this! It is wrong!” I hissed. I let go of both of her wrists at once, and fled the room. Either fortunately or unfortunately, I could not tell which, Edrice did not take this as rejection, but as enticement. I could tell by her increasing brazenness that she thought I burned for her and could barely restrain myself. At times, I wondered if this was actually true—after all, I could not stop thinking about her, even though thinking of her was a kind of torture. I successfully avoided being alone with her for the next week or so, but I knew I could not do so forever. At last, one day after Potiphar again went away on Pharaoh's business, I was inside managing the orders for the kitchen after the morning meal. I stopped what I was doing, and frowned when I realized that the whole house was eerily silent—more so than I had ever heard before. Usually there were some servants chattering or clanging about at least in the distance. It was as if all of them had suddenly gone on holiday. A wave of foreboding passed over me, and then I sensed that I was not alone. I turned around and saw Edrice standing there in the most provocative gown I had ever seen. She rested one arm on the doorframe to give me the best possible view, her gaze inviting me to come and take her. “You know you want to,” she purred. “I promise I won't resist.” “Edrice—” my voice came out hoarse, and I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from her nearly exposed bosom, no matter how hard I tried. She grinned and sauntered forward, swinging her hips. I could not move. The next thing I knew, she stood before me, tugged on the cord of my tunic, and began undressing me. “Sleep with me, Joseph,” she whispered. I had one choice in that moment: stay and obey her, or run. So I ran. She had a firm grip by then on my tunic, and I nearly tripped and fell on my face, as it was half off already. Instead I wrestled myself free of it, leaving my tunic in her grip, and alas—fled naked. Some of the other servants who were outside at the time saw me. I saw the fleeting looks of confusion and shock. Then Edrice began to scream. There was a commotion after that. Several of the men went running into the house, and those near enough to me cast glances of alarm in my direction. I hid myself among the shrubbery, not sure what else to do, feeling like I might throw up. I didn't know exactly what Edrice was playing at, but I suspected I knew well enough. A few minutes passed. Babu found me and handed me one of his own tunics without a word. I saw the look in his eyes, of mingled worry and sympathy, and it alarmed me. “You should have just done as she wanted,” he murmured under his breath. “How could I do such a thing against Potiphar, and against the Lord?” I protested as I put on the tunic. Babu sighed, and shook his head. It was a long moment before he answered. “Joseph.” The way he said my name, with such regret, made my heart sink into my stomach. He bit his lip and then said, his voice barely above a whisper, “You spurned her. It's exactly what I told you never to do. All the servants know who and what she is, and I daresay Potiphar does too, but I don't think it will matter. She is accusing you of attempted rape.” Waves of horror washed over me. That was even worse than a consensual affair. How was it that by doing the right thing, I'd managed to make my situation even worse? “But… if everyone knows her ways…” I began weakly. Babu shook his head. “She is the lady of the house,” he murmured. “Any servant who dares to contradict her story will be subject to her wrath himself. The only one who might be able to challenge her is Potiphar, and while I suspect he knows, if he admits that she is guilty in this, it makes him a cuckold—not just this once, but the many times he has turned a blind eye in the past as well.” My breath came in short, ragged gasps. “What do I do?” Babu ran a hand through his graying hair. “I will… try… to convince Potiphar to merely sell you, rather than punish you.” I sank to my knees. Babu stood watching me. At last I murmured, “Shall I be killed?” “I do not think so,” Babu said with surprising conviction. “You would be if Potiphar believed her story, but he is not an evil man. He will want you out of his sight and out of his household, but he knows you are not capable of such a thing, even if he does not admit it to himself.” He patted my shoulder. “Stay in my chambers and do not show your face until Potiphar returns. I will attend to your needs myself, and discuss how we might best plead your case to him when he does.” The rest of that day was one of the longest of my life, with the possible exception of those first several weeks' ride to Egypt. Fortunately I did not have to wait longer, as Potiphar arrived back home unexpectedly that evening. I heard him in the vestibule, and I heard Edrice's renewed histrionic wails. I cowered in Babu's small chambers, catching words here and there—mostly my name in Edrice's high-pitched shriek, and Potiphar's angry growls. I closed my eyes, and tried to steel myself for what came next. Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall toward me, and the door flew open. I opened my eyes and beheld Potiphar's face. It was nearly purple with rage. He held my tunic in his hand like it was evidence against me. “What,” he seethed, “is the meaning of this?” In a split second, even though I knew it would likely make my own situation worse, I decided to try the truth. If I were married to an unfaithful woman, I would want to know. I stood up straight and said, “Your wife has been attempting to seduce me for years, Master, and earnestly for the last several months. You know this to be true. She has invented her current story because I spurned her and fled, and she kept hold of my tunic as I did so. I could not sin against the Lord and against you.” If possible, Potiphar's color turned an even deeper shade of purple. “How—dare you!” He threw my tunic down and took two steps toward me, hands balled into fists. I clasped my own hands behind my back as hard as I could, determined not to protect myself, should he strike a blow. But I looked him directly in the eye, knowing that doing so would communicate my truthfulness better than anything else I could do. It worked, at least on some level. Potiphar nearly snorted, he breathed so heavily, his face etched in a snarl. But he did not strike me. Behind him, three of the male servants who had grown quite fond of me in the last few years, and I of them, appeared in the hallway. “Throw him in prison,” Potiphar pronounced my sentence, and turned to stalk out. “I want him out of here tonight.” The three servants shuffled awkwardly, before moving forward to fulfill Potiphar's orders. One apologized as he began to bind my wrists. I shook my head. “That is not necessary,” I told him, and forced a smile. “You know I will not resist you.” The young man gave me a tiny nod, and the four of us marched out of the room with one abreast, two at my sides. I tried not to look around at the great manor I was leaving forever. This was the second time my home had been ripped from me; I did not think I could bear it if I looked and considered this. Edrice appeared at the entrance to the estate with one arm positioned brazenly on a marble pillar, a vicious half smile on her full red lips. She still wore the scandalous gown, which surprised me at first—wasn't that gown evidence of my version of the story? But then I realized, it doesn't matter. She knows Potiphar will refuse to believe her unfaithful, regardless of the evidence. She still wore the gown on purpose. It was evidence of her power over me. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she taunted in a low trill as I passed by her. “Oh, how quickly your lust turns to hatred,” I returned, looking her straight in the eye. “The Lord sees what you have done, and will repay you for it.” My words hit the mark. Her gloating smile vanished, and she began to shriek after me, “How dare you, you filthy Hebrew slave! You should be hung on the gallows! I see to it that you're hung on the gallows—!” The door closed behind us, cutting off her threats. I took a deep breath of the night air, and one of the other servants murmured, “Empty threats. She's already exerted the extent of her power against you.” Another agreed, his voice still low, “We've seen her watching you for months, and watched you avoid her, too. We know you're not guilty. So does Potiphar, even if he won't admit it.” Tears pricked my eyes at this, and a lump rose in my throat. “Thank you.” We walked in silence the rest of the way. When we arrived at the prison and the other servants identified me as the prisoner to the keeper, he glanced at my unbound hands in surprise. “And… he comes willingly?” “I would not struggle against my brothers,” I said. “They are merely following orders. Besides, where could I go?” The keeper of the prison looked even more surprised at this, and looked to them for an explanation. They told my story for me, and I bowed my head. “You will never find a more capable worker or better manager, sir,” one of the servants finished, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Judge for yourself, but we are all very sorry to lose him.” The keeper of the prison let out a breath through pursed lips. At last he pronounced, “Well, this is certainly the strangest way I've ever been introduced to a new prisoner.” He took me by the arm and began to lead me inside, but the servants stopped him to hug me goodbye with some tears before they went their way. The keeper shook his head. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he murmured as he watched our farewell. Then he said, “Well, normally I'd take you to a barred cell, but with three witnesses such as those in your favor… you might just be a gift from the gods. I tell you, I've been quite overwhelmed lately with the number of prisoners, particularly managing resources from Pharaoh and directing labor. I could use the help of a skilled household manager.” I inclined my head. “Happy to be of service in any way I can.” “Splendid!” The keeper, who introduced himself as Shakir, took me to a small room with a cot and a desk near the cells where the prisoners were kept. It did have a small window though. “This will be your room, then. I'm sure it isn't much compared to your chambers in Potiphar's house, but at least it is neither a cell, nor the gallows, eh?” I managed a smile. “I am very grateful for your kindness. I will work hard for you and will not take it for granted.” Shakir blinked at me again and shook his head. “Poor kid,” he murmured at last, more to himself than to me. “Those good looks of yours are a curse.” With that, he left me alone and closed the door behind me. In the silence that followed, I approached the window, leaning on the sill and looking up to the stars. I reminded myself how many years my ancestor Abraham had believed the Lord for a son, looking at those very same stars. His descendants were not yet so numerous, but certainly my father had been fertile. My chest ached as I thought of my brothers, particularly of my little brother Benjamin. He had been nine when my half-brothers had sold me into slavery. He would be nineteen now. I wondered what he looked like. I wondered if he remembered me. I wondered if— No, I stopped myself. I had been about to wonder if my dreams would ever come to pass. They certainly looked impossible, as I went from my father's favorite son, to slave, and now to prisoner. But the Lord had given me two dreams for a reason: that told me that the future it foretold was not conditional. It would happen. It was not up to me to determine how, or when. I must continue to cling to that; I must continue to believe that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living, or my heart would faint. Especially tonight, of all nights. Many years ago, I'd had to release my anger and bitterness toward my half brothers, or it would already have eaten me alive. Tonight, the image of Edrice's scandalous dress and haughty smirk floated back to me, and I gnashed my teeth. She belonged here, not me… but I knew the memory came because the Lord wanted me to release her to Him too. He was a God of justice—I knew this, despite how things looked, because of the covenant He had made with my father Abraham. He'd said to him, “Your descendants shall possess the gate of their enemies.” The gate was the place of power and influence, was it not? I had had power and influence over Potiphar's house, relatively speaking. I now already seemed to have the favor of the keeper of the prison. Was that all God's promise had meant for me? Was this the extent of the blessing I could expect upon my life? No, I told myself emphatically, closing my eyes and deliberately conjuring again the memories of the dreams, now rather faded and possibly distorted with time. I saw again my brothers' sheaves of wheat bowing down to mine, and then the sun, moon and stars bowing to me. The Lord gave me those dreams in advance because He knew I would need them, in addition to what I knew of the covenant to His people in general, to sustain me through this dark period of my life. It would not last forever. It must not. Somehow, somehow—I would be reunited with my brothers and my family again. The Lord would place me in a position of power and influence. How prison was a stepping stone to anything, I certainly did not know. But He was God, and I was not. “I trust You,” I murmured aloud to the Lord. “I forgive my brothers, I forgive Edrice, and I leave their punishment to You. I trust You to bring Your word to pass in my life. Somehow.” I heard nothing back. I wished God would speak to me, the way He had to some of my ancestors, and even to my father Jacob. But I felt the comfort of those stars winking down at me from above, and I knew He saw me and He cared. I was not forgotten. Over the next days and weeks, I got to know the prisoners as well as Shakir, and learned the business of prison—for business it was. We had finances and shipments from Pharaoh for the upkeep of both prison and prisoners, schedules to manage and enforce, and some of the prisoners also engaged in labor as part of their service. I could see why Shakir had been overwhelmed before. But I applied the management skills I had gained in Potiphar's household to management of the prison, and within the first month, I gained not only Shakir's trust but his admiration and gratitude as well. He often referred to me as a “gift from the gods,” though he'd always look a bit abashed after he said it, conscious that he was profiting from my misfortune. When he apologized for the third time after a declaration like this, I finally smiled at him and said, “It is all right. The Lord is with me, and He will repay me for what was stolen.” Shakir blinked, and seemed to want to say something. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He walked away with a puzzled look on his face. In time, the prisoners and Shakir came to be a sort of makeshift family to me, just as Babu at the other servants had been. I was surprised to wake up one day and realize that I was happy again. Despite all, I found great satisfaction in doing my work well, and in the relationships I had formed with those around me. I genuinely cared about my fellow prisoners. I came to know their stories, and wept for those whose stories were even more tragic than mine. Of course there were a few actual criminals among them, but in short order I won over even them. I rejoiced with those whose sentences were completed or commuted when they returned to freedom, even though I was still imprisoned indefinitely, with no apparent hope of escape. They were perplexed how I could maintain such hope in such a place—so I taught them about the Lord, about the covenant He had made with my fathers. “That's all very well for you,” one of them grumbled at first, “but your god has never spoken to me or my fathers. What hope do I have?” “It's not about what He's said or hasn't said,” I insisted. “Yes, He made a covenant with my fathers to prosper and bless them, but how could I be assured that that blessing would extend to every one of their descendants, including me? Yes, I had two dreams that suggested I would be blessed”—I had told the prisoners the secret of my dreams, in due time—“but those were very obscure, after all. If I wished to doubt their meaning, particularly after all that has happened to me, I certainly could. What assures me is the character of Him who made those promises to my father Abraham. It isn't about what He has done, but about who He is. He told Abraham that through him, every nation of the world would be blessed, not just Abraham's direct descendants. That includes you, too! He is both good and mighty, as well as trustworthy. So yes, I have hope, and always shall have. You can have that same hope, if you want it.” A few months after I had arrived, the prison received two new rather illustrious prisoners from the Pharaoh's own household: his butler and his baker. I felt sorry for them, as they seemed exceedingly upset to have found themselves in such a predicament. We all understood; every one of us, even the guilty ones, went through a period of first denial, then anger, then grief, and ultimately a depressed sort of acceptance when we arrived here. It was even worse for the two of them, as the butler had no idea why he was there at all. The baker's cooking had apparently displeased the capricious Pharaoh one too many times. “I don't know what I said,” the butler moaned to me, his head in his hands. “I don't know what I did…” I clucked my tongue sympathetically as the baker sat beside him, patting his arm. “One never knows,” he murmured, “Pharaoh is like a child.” “Shh!” hissed the butler, horrified. “You must not say things like that?” The baker gave a short laugh. “Why not? What else is he going to do to me?” He gestured at the bars of their cell; they were currently in the same one, as I had allowed them to comfort one another as they could. “He could kill us, of course!” the butler hissed back, “the walls have ears, I'm sure!” “You are as safe as I can make you here,” I assured them. “We're all family here, right guys?” I called to the other prisoners. Shouts, claps, and grunts from the other nearby prisoners responded to this, and I flashed a brief grin at the newcomers. “We're here if you need us. Take your time.” It was a few weeks before the butler and baker worked their way through the various stages of acceptance of their new predicament. I marveled as I watched their fellow prisoners commiserate with them in the process, feeling how I'd imagine a proud father might feel as he watches one child comfort another in his distress. One day after both the baker and butler had adjusted to life in prison, and had grown cheerful for the most part, I noticed an abrupt change. Both of them seemed sad and troubled again, and did not perform their work as efficiently as usual. I frowned. “What is wrong?” I asked them. “Why do you both seem so sad today?” The butler said for both of them, “We each have had a dream, and there is no interpreter of it.” The vision of my own dreams to which I had clung for the past many years flashed across my mind as I said, “Do not interpretations belong to God? Tell them to me, please.” The two men exchanged a look, and then the butler ventured, “Behold, in my dream a vine was before me, and in the vine were three branches; it was as though it budded, its blossoms shot forth, and its clusters brought forth ripe grapes. Then Pharaoh's cup was in my hand; and I took the grapes and pressed them into Pharaoh's cup, and placed the cup in Pharaoh's hand.” My heart swelled as he spoke. I understood the dream's meaning, and I also knew, I knew this was to be my salvation as well! “Here's the meaning. The three branches are three days. Within three days, Pharaoh will get you out of here and put you back to your old work—you'll be giving Pharaoh his cup just as you used to do when you were his cupbearer. Only remember me when things are going well with you again—tell Pharaoh about me and get me out of this place. I was kidnapped from the land of the Hebrews. And since I've been here, I've done nothing to deserve being put in the dungeon.” The baker's eyes lit up too, and he declared, “Three days—that will be Pharaoh's birthday! That is often when he commutes sentences…” He turned to me and said eagerly, “Tell me what my dream means too! It went like this: I saw three wicker baskets on my head; the top basket had assorted pastries from the bakery and birds were picking at them from the basket on my head.” I blinked at the baker, and felt my heart sink to my stomach. He saw my expression and his own faltered too. I knew this interpretation at once, also, but wished I did not have to tell him. “This is the interpretation: The three baskets are three days; within three days Pharaoh will hang you from a tree, and the birds will pick your bones clean.” All the color faded from his cheeks, and his mouth fell open. The three of us sat in silence, not even looking at each other. At last I placed a hand on the baker's shoulder, who shrugged it off and hid his face. The butler and I exchanged a sympathetic look. “Well,” the butler said to me in a low tone, “at least we know that you do not hesitate to prophesy good or evil. In three days' time, we shall see.” I nodded, knowing full well what we should see. I reminded the baker, more soberly now, “Do not forget me.” “I won't,” he promised. Three days later it happened just as the Lord had shown me through the dreams. Pharaoh held a feast in honor of his own birthday, and summoned the butler and the baker from the prison in the middle of it. Shakir, who had been at the feast, arrived with guards to escort them. We all watched them go in dead silence. Everyone was nervous for them. Before they all vanished, I took Shakir by the arm, and asked, “Please return after the feast tonight, no matter how late it is, and tell us all what became of them.” Shakir gave me a strange look. “I thought you already knew.” “I do,” I confirmed. “But for the sake of the rest of the prisoners.” He gave me a small nod, and left, last behind the guards. Around the third watch of the night, Shakir returned again, looking haggard. Most of the prisoners dozed, but lightly. We all roused when we saw his lantern and heard his footsteps. I sat up first. “Well?” Shakir sighed. “It was as Joseph predicted,” he confirmed. “The butler was restored to the right hand of Pharaoh. The baker…” he shook his head and bowed it. There was a moment of silence. A few of the prisoners swore. One quietly sobbed. We had all grown quite fond of the two men. Despite my sorrow for the murder of the baker, I could not entirely forget that I now had an ally at the right hand of Pharaoh. I had reminded him several times not to forget me. Surely he wouldn't! Every day I anticipated a retinue of soldiers to come and release me as well. When they did not come after a week, I grew confused. When they did not come after two weeks, I sank into depression, for the first time since those weeks riding across the desert to Egypt. Even when I'd been thrown into prison, I'd maintained my faith, and bounced back quickly. But now, when I was alone at night, I cried out to God. “It's been eleven years!” I told Him in a hissing whisper, like He didn't know. “Eleven years!” I panted with rage, until I finally needed an outlet of some kind and pounded my fists against my wall. “Am I ever getting out of here? Did You forget about me? Do you care at all?” I knew the answers to all of these things by the quiet reproach in my mind as soon as I'd said them. At once, my rage melted away and I crumpled, giving way to tears for the first time in years. I buried my face in my hands and wept, feeling small and vulnerable, like the child I had once been in my mother's lap. She had died giving birth to my brother Benjamin, when I was only eight years old. I conjured her in my mind now, picturing her caresses on my back as I remembered them until I had no more tears left within me. They were followed by first a dull numbness, and then, inexplicably, a sense of peace. I fell asleep to the vision of the sun, moon, and stars bowing down to me once again, a reassurance that despite the apparent setbacks, the Lord had promised. He would fulfill His word. Over the next few days, I acknowledged to myself that it was the hope of an immediate fulfillment that had set me up for such disappointment; before, when I had placed no timeline on my deliverance, I had been able to thrive regardless of my circumstances. Now that it was clear that the butler had forgotten me, I let go of my expectations and became my old cheerful self again, caring for my inmates and managing them well. The Lord would deliver me when and how He might, but I'd just as soon not know until it happened. I never wanted to go through that again. Two more years passed before that moment finally came, and it was as abrupt as I could have wished for. I was in my office, calculating income versus expenses for the prison, when the palace guards arrived. “We are looking for the Hebrew called Joseph,” announced the guard. I frowned. “I am he.” The guard bowed to me—a prisoner. “You have been summoned to the Throne Room by His Majesty, Pharaoh.” My mind went blank. My mouth reacted first. “May I… be permitted to make myself presentable first?” I gestured at the filthy rags of an inmate I wore, and my long, unkempt beard and hair. “You may. Come.” A few of the prisoners whose cells were close enough to hear some of the commotion pressed their faces to their bars curiously. Shakir, who had heard the entire interaction, watched me with wide-eyed fear. I knew he was remembering what had happened to the baker. But that made sense—Pharaoh had known and been offended by him. He should have no knowledge of my existence. Unless… my heart beat faster as the guard led me to the river to bathe, and provided me with a razor, a servant, and a change of clothes. I bathed as quickly as I could, my nervousness only growing as I did so. I did not let my mind imagine, in case this was not what it appeared to be. When I emerged from the water, dried myself and put on the new garments, the servant combed and used the razor to trim my hair and beard before shaving my face clean. When he had finished, he gestured back to the water, inviting me to look at my new self. Tentatively, I did so, though I dreaded the change I might find—the last time I had beheld my own reflection was when I still served in Potiphar's home, three years ago. I feared that my ordeal in the prison might have aged me ten years or more. I blinked at the man who peered down at me, and swallowed hard, raising my hands to my own chin gingerly. I had not been clean shaven since I was a boy; the face I saw therefore looked significantly younger than the one I remembered. I might have been a teenager again, though I had turned thirty this year. The guard, who had waited for my transformation, now stepped forward and beckoned me. “Pharaoh is not a patient man. Come,” he said, and I followed. The whole thing felt incredibly surreal, as I crossed the threshold of the enormous vestibule of the palace. Potiphar's house had been a shack by comparison. The marble pillars held up a ceiling so high it might have been the sky. Colorful mosaics lined the floors, and intricate paintings of great exploits decorated the walls. The opulence astounded me; I could not stop staring, even though I kept pace with the guard. In the throne room were four men dressed in Egyptian finery. Three were gray haired and weathered. The fourth stood at a window with his arms clasped behind him, his forearms adorned with thick gold bracelets. He alone of the four wore a geometric headdress, his tunic bedecked with purples and golds, complete with a gold sash. He turned as we entered, and I saw Pharaoh's face for the first time. He had the swarthy, coppery skin of all of the Egyptians, his black beard close-cropped. I saw that he was not much older than I was. He might have even been younger. “Joseph the Hebrew prisoner, Your Majesty,” bowed the guard, and backed away, leaving Pharaoh and me to face one another alone. The other three—advisors? servants?—stood at a respectful distance, but close enough to hear. Pharaoh regarded me with an expression I could not read. I knew nothing of the etiquette; should I speak first or wait for him to address me? Should I bow? Surely I should bow. I had just made up my mind to do this and started, when Pharaoh abruptly began. “I dreamed a dream,” he announced. “Nobody can interpret it. But I've heard that just by hearing a dream you can interpret it.” This is it, I realized in dazed wonder. This is really it. I found my tongue. “Not I, but God. God will set Pharaoh's mind at ease.” Pharaoh searched my face. Something about my answer gave him pause. Then he went on, “In my dream I was standing on the bank of the Nile. Seven cows, shimmering with health, came up out of the river and grazed on the marsh grass. On their heels seven more cows, all skin and bones, came up. I've never seen uglier cows anywhere in Egypt. Then the seven skinny, ugly cows ate up the first seven healthy cows. But you couldn't tell by looking—after eating them up they were just as skinny and ugly as before. Then I woke up. “In my second dream I saw seven ears of grain, full-bodied and lush, growing out of a single stalk, and right behind them, seven other ears, shriveled, thin, and dried out by the east wind. And the thin ears swallowed up the full ears. I've told all this to the magicians but they cannot tell me what the dreams mean.” My mind whirred with images and understanding as Pharaoh spoke, as clearly as if there had been no parable at all. The second dream overlay the first in my mind, making me even more certain that my interpretation of the first had been correct. Thank you, Lord, I prayed silently. To Pharaoh, I said, “Pharaoh's two dreams both mean the same thing. God is telling Pharaoh what he is going to do. The seven healthy cows are seven years and the seven healthy ears of grain are seven years—they're the same dream. The seven sick and ugly cows that followed them up are seven years and the seven scrawny ears of grain dried out by the east wind are the same—seven years of famine. “The meaning is what I said earlier: God is letting Pharaoh in on what he is going to do. Seven years of plenty are on their way throughout Egypt. But on their heels will come seven years of famine, leaving no trace of the Egyptian plenty. As the country is emptied by famine, there won't be even a scrap left of the previous plenty—the famine will be total. The fact that Pharaoh dreamed the same dream twice emphasizes God's determination to do this and do it soon. “So, Pharaoh needs to look for a wise and experienced man and put him in charge of the country. Then Pharaoh needs to appoint managers throughout the country of Egypt to organize it during the years of plenty. Their job will be to collect all the food produced in the good years ahead and stockpile the grain under Pharaoh's authority, storing it in the towns for food. This grain will be held back to be used later during the seven years of famine that are coming on Egypt. This way the country won't be devastated by the famine.” I had watched the transformation in Pharaoh's face as I spoke. His hard features softened, his eyes widened, and I could see that the Lord had confirmed my words to him. He withdrew to consult with his advisors in low tones that I could not hear—yet I could hardly suppress the smile that stretched across my lips. Pharaoh returned to me, his advisors right behind him this time. “You shall be the one in charge of all you propose. No one is as qualified as you in experience and wisdom. From now on, you're in charge of my affairs; all my people will report to you. Only as king will I be over you. I'm putting you in charge of the entire country of Egypt.” I stared at him, my mind blank. I had expected that he would believe me; that he would favor me; even that I would never return to prison. But… what had he just said? His next actions confirmed it: he took a signet ring off of his own hand, took my own hand, and placed it upon my finger. Behind me, servants I had not seen enter the room draped my shoulders with a fine linen garment, and my neck with a gold chain. As they did all this, Pharaoh went on, “I am Pharaoh, but no one in Egypt will make a single move without your approval. We must do something about your Hebrew name, though. Henceforth, you shall be known as Zaphenath-Paneah.” I bit my lip to keep the surge of tears at bay—the new name meant in Egyptian, God Speaks and He Lives. I met Pharaoh's eyes, and to my utter amazement, I found him smiling at me fondly, like we were almost peers. More than that—like we were kin. This man just met me! How— I am restoring all that was stolen from you, the Lord whispered to my heart. Sevenfold. I found myself ushered along with Pharaoh's servants like a tide sweeping out to sea. The day played out like a dream: they helped me into Pharaoh's second chariot, and rode me around Egypt, introducing me to the people of the land by shouting before me, “Bow the knee! Bow the knee to Zaphenath-Paneah, second in command of all of Egypt!” I expected to wake the next morning back in prison. It took me several confused moments to remember what had happened when I saw the luxurious bed with linen curtains, and the window with a view of all of Egypt, through which the early morning sunlight streamed in. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and sat up to see servants bustling about in a corner of the enormous room, laying out my breakfast. One of them looked up and said, “Ah, my lord is awake.” He brought the food over to my bed, and then beckoned to someone outside the room. One of the advisors I had seen with Pharaoh in my encounter with him yesterday approached and bowed, introducing himself as Lateef. “My lord Zaphenath-Paneah,” he began. “We have much to discuss. Would you prefer to eat in silence and seek me after, or—” “No, no, Lateef, please.” I gestured to a chair by the window. Lateef accepted it and seated himself as I ate. He then proceeded to tell me all of the plans Pharaoh had discussed with them on my behalf while I was riding around the city in Pharaoh's second chariot: where I was to live, who I was to marry (marry? I thought in amazement), and how I was to begin to implement the recommendations I had made to Pharaoh regarding the collection of grain. He rattled off the names of master builders they had already recruited to build both my home—to be constructed on land adjacent to the palace—and the massive storage facilities they would need to store up dried grain. Lateef was here to ask my preferences on the architecture and building materials for my home. Would I like essentially a miniature palace? Would I like a pool indoors and open to the sky, for bathing and recreation? Would I like my bedroom to face east or west? Did I prefer mosaics or simpler flooring and walls? All the questions made my head spin. I had been merely a servant in Potiphar's house, and now my own home would be many times as grand as his. I weakly indicated that I trusted the master architects' tastes and would be extremely gratified by whatever they chose. Lateef gave a short nod to this. Then he announced, “Pharaoh also hopes that my lord will be pleased to take Asenath to wife: she is the daughter of Poti-Pherah, priest of On.” I had heard about the Egyptian god On, of course; he was one of many Egyptian gods. I had a brief flash of concern that my wife would worship another god, but then I realized, what alternative did I have? The same would be true of any woman in Egypt. At least they were polytheists, and therefore would not object to my worship of the one true God. And, given the new name Pharaoh had bestowed upon me of God Speaks and He Lives, the same appeared to be true of Egyptians in general. “I would be most honored,” I told Lateef. He beamed. “Splendid. We shall arrange the wedding to coincide with the completion of your house, so that you may have a home for your bride.” Pharaoh recruited so many workers to construct my home and storage facility that both were completed within a few months. During that time, I met and courted Asenath, and was dazzled by her. Pharaoh had clearly selected her for me not only because of her pedigree, but also for her own merits. Beautiful, accomplished, and demure, she was one of the most highly sought women in the land. I was pleased to find that she was also very intelligent when I gave her the opportunity to engage with me on matters of state, and at least did not object to my worship of the Lord. I would hope for more than mere acquiescence to Him in time. I otherwise spent my days touring the land of Egypt, observing the abundance of the land, collecting and drying, pickling, salting, smoking, or fermenting one fifth of the produce of the land. Until my granaries were completed, I stored what I could, where I could, but I had designated store houses before long. One day on these tours, I caught sight of my old master, Potiphar. He saw me too. After a moment's hesitation, he bowed, his expression like stone. I approached him alone, motioning for some of my servants who usually moved with me to remain behind. I did not know what I would say until we stood face to face. “Zapthnath-Paaneah,” Potiphar growled my new name pointedly. “Tell me, does Pharaoh know your true identity, Joseph the adulterous Hebrew slave-turned-prisoner?” I searched Potiphar's face. “I believe you know, deep down, that I never betrayed you, and never would have done. As I told you at the time, it was your wife who attempted to seduce me, and left me no choice but to run. She accused me because I jilted her.” I watched as Potiphar's face turned red with suppressed rage, and he balled his fists at his sides. But as I was now second in command over Egypt, he would not dare assault me. “Your
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While on a mission to save his species alien symbiote Riot crash lands on a strange planet called Earth. Riot quickly discovers that merging with the native humans is the key to the symbiote's salvation but before he can usher in an age of peaceful co-existence he must defeat the treacherous Venom who will doom his entire species to extinction in order to keep the whole world, and its resources, for himself. This episode is sponsored by Liquid Death. Head to LiquidDeath.com/Villain to join the Liquid Death Country Club, and receive a free t-shirt with your purchase of water! You also get free shipping on all merch, and when you purchase 2 or more cases of water at LiquidDeath.com/Villain. Or grab some at Whole Foods and 7-Eleven. Brought to you in part by Virtual Game Night. Live games for your virtual happy hour, conferences, birthday parties, or whoever else you might be on a video conference with. If you want to turn your next virtual gathering into a Virtual Game Night, visit www.virtualgamenight.live/villain and get a $100 credit toward the price of any game night package with code VILLAIN100 Edited by Andrew Ivimey and produced for the From Superheroes network. Visit www.FromSuperheroes.com for more podcasts, YouTube series, web comics, and more.
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