Podcasts about genie

Folge #80 senden wir euch live vom Gardasee. Und wie wir da so saßen mit einem eiskalten Aperol Spritz in der Hand, kam natürlich nur ein Podcast Thema in Frage: die Spritzologie, also quasi die Lehre vom Spritz. Wir klären ein für mal alle Fragen und Mythen wie: was ist eigentlich in Aperol und Campari und co. drin, mit was mixt du den perfekten Spritz und wie ist das optimale Mischverhältnis. Do's and dont's für den perfekten Sundowner im Glas. Triggerwarnung: wir hatten schon den einen oder anderen Spritz vor der Folge! Bitte habt Verständnis! Dazu wie immer: ein Song für die Wine O'Clock Playlist, Gianlucas Tipps rund ums Pairing – und natürlich was für euren Warenkorb: Mit dem Code „weinmitfreunden“ spart ihr 10 % auf das gesamte Sortiment bei Senti Vini. Zum Wohl!

Wie das Sommersemester ist schon wieder um? Wir können es kaum glauben!

We're 300! What a way to start the new series than with a special milestone episode where, once again, the (dining) tables are turned and Ed and James are the guests in the dream restaurant. Have their tastebuds changed over the last 100 episodes? And, this time, we're thrilled to welcome back AJ Odudu as the special guest genie.A massive thanks to AJ for hosting our big birthday episode, and a huge thank you to all of you for listening to the podcast over the last 300 episodes.AJ Odudu hosts ‘Big Brother' and ‘Dress the Nation' later this year.Follow AJ on Instagram @ajoduduOff Menu is a comedy podcast hosted by Ed Gamble and James Acaster.Produced, recorded and edited by Ben Williams for Plosive.Video production by Megan McCarthy for Plosive.Artwork by Paul Gilbey (photography and design).Follow Off Menu on Instagram and TikTok: @offmenuofficialAnd go to our website www.offmenupodcast.co.uk for a list of restaurants recommended on the show.Watch Ed and James's YouTube series 'Just Puddings'. Watch here. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Gewohnheiten können Kreativität und Persönlichkeit fördern – wie schon Ludwig van Beethoven bewies.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Kinder lieben Wasser, sie plantschen gern, gerade im Sommer wenn es heiß ist. Aber sie können oft Gefahren nicht richtig einschätzen, sagt Janice Haney vom DLRG Landesverband Baden in SWR Aktuell: "Man merkt schon, dass viele Kinder im Wasser unbedarft sind. Das liegt daran, dass die Gefahren ihnen oft noch unbekannt sind." Genau das hat auch gerade eine internationale Studie gezeigt, an der die Universität Kassel beteiligt war. Die Hälfte der Kinder kann demnach Gefahrensituationen im Schwimmbad oder Badesee noch nicht richtig einschätzen. Dabei sei es ähnlich wie im Straßenverkehr: Die Kinder müssen die Gefahren erst noch kennenlernen. "Wenn ein zweijähriges Kind mit der Mama durch die Stadt läuft, dann wird es an die Hand genommen. Das muss auch im Wasser so sein!“ Es gehe darum, den Kindern beizubringen, „dass Wasser Spaß macht – aber auch ein gefährliches Element sein kann." Wie Kinder auf die Gefahren aufmerksam gemacht werden können, darüber hat Janice Haney mit SWR Aktuell-Moderator Simon Dörr gesprochen.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Someone help me. What happened. What's good bro. I think deadmau5 is my cat. Nah. You're serious? I'm…deadfuckingnserious. What makes you think that? [cat is deadmau5] lol isn't it super torturous as fuck as a woman knowing All you really want is for like, one man to like , Just like you, But dudes are notorious for like— Never ever really being able to just ”like” one person? Like dudes like everyone They are notorious whoooores. The like everybody. The older I get like the worse it gets Like here's this guy I like And I pretty much mostly just like him But then like, Look at all these girls! Fuuuuck that! NICOLE BYER OH LOOK. ITS DUM-DUM! this is because I keep forgetting you, isn't it? NICOLE BYER Yes it IS. this might actually be my favorite part of the story. BLŪ is taking a shower when suddenly— NICOLE BYER appears out of nowhere. HEY DUM-DUM. JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a picturesque and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies—. THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had to come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and tricks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be careful of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark--which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth of The force that the shadows could not bare— there were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the niceties of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affluent east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools and good old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowledge the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperament to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Watch on YouTube: https://youtu.be/MfImeEij4XY   In this episode of the Agile and Action Podcast, Bill chats with Bhavneet Chahal, Co-founder and CEO of GoSkills, about how AI is reshaping online learning and development. Bhavneet shares how GoSkills took the bite-sized learning approach seriously way back in 2013 and why it still holds strong today. Instead of hour-long snoozefests, they focus on 3 to 5 minute lessons that come with cheat sheets, quizzes, and exercises. Bhav also explains how their platform integrates AI to help trainers build courses, generate lesson plans, and even make course titles pop. But she's quick to add that AI should assist, not replace, human quality and insight. The conversation dives into how AI isn't a threat to structured learning but actually helps enhance it. While ChatGPT and YouTube are great for quick answers, structured platforms like GoSkills offer guided learning that actually sticks. They've rolled out tools like Genie and Ask AI to boost productivity and personalize the learning experience without losing quality. Bhav shares her thoughts on how AI can help not just with content creation but also strategy, marketing, and even spotting hidden opportunities from raw data. Her hot tip for trainers and instructional designers: learn how to use AI to polish and sell your course, not just build it. What You'll Learn Why micro-learning still wins in adult education How AI can help you build and market better courses The difference between using AI for quick answers vs structured learning How GoSkills uses AI to find trends and shape future content Tips for trainers to stay competitive using AI tools in course design and promotion

AEW All in: Texas und WWE Evolution in der großen Schwitzkasten-Doppel-Review! AEW lieferte bei All in mit der Main-Storyline mit Hangman Adam Page und Jon Moxley ein Meisterwerk ab! Und WWE schaffte mit Evolution 2025 ein neues Statement, bei dem die Women's Division absolut ablieferte. Wir sind begeistern und gehen tief rein in beide Events an diesem krassen, überladenen Wrestling-Wochenende. Im Fokus: Wie bei AEW All in: Texas so viel genial ineinandergriff und welche Details dafür sorgten, dass wir hier das Ende mit Hangmans Heldenstory die beste Storyline in der Geschichte von AEW erleben durften. Und warum WWE Evolution zwar im Vorfeld viel Federn ließ, aber im Event selbst komplett ablieferte – insbesondere beim Opener um Becky Lynch, Bayley und Lyra Valkyria und dem Main Event mit Iyo Sky und Rhea Ripley. Genießt diese knackige Doppel-Review! Darüber hinaus gibt es auch eine kleine Ankündigung in eigener Sache und Vorfreude auf unseren baldigen 7-jährigen Geburtstag. :-) Wir freuen uns wie immer mega über Kommentare und Feedback auf Instagram, Threads, Bluesky, Twitter & Facebook. Unterstützt den SCHWITZKASTEN gern auch auf Patreon dabei, der beste deutsche Wrestling Podcast zu sein.

JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

JIMMY KIMMEL uses his newfound ability to time shift (not time travel, persay, but to alter many parallels of a given time) to undo joining a college fraternity. Also in the present nothing appears altered. This invisibly and almost even silently skews several multidimensional parallels into disarray. Unknowing st all of this, he seems content with his decision. Then again, he always seems sort of... JIMMY KIMMEL is quietly enjoying his fishing trip. Basking in the wonderful allone ness of solitude and silence, he uncaps a bottle of [insert product placement here] and takes a very hearty swig, letting out a super contended sigh. …content. It is a pictures and perfect day; however, something seems off; just then, as he admires his first catch, hanging from the line over the bow, a GIANT SHARK appears out of the water, snapping up his catch and retreating into the abyss with a thunderous SPLASH. Dripping with dismay (and lots of water) JIMMY KIMMEL explodes with an equally thunderous rage. WHAT THE FUCK! He teeters, sopping wet to the edge of the boat, peering momentarily into the rippling water before he realizes it may not be safe, and in the same glimpse from the side of his squinted unrelentlessly still glistening eyes, realizes that this shark has knocked over and spilled his entire bottle of [insert product placement here] He confusedly and exasperatedly cries out and upward into the skies— THIS IS A LAKE!!! Just a note to remember that I finally perfected my recipe for the absolute best vegan breakfast burrito just previously to writing this. It was delicious. Yes, it was. I— Oh, my god! Parallels, remember! No! (Suddenly eating a burrito) Your memory sucks! It has to. Isn't it all in the culture? I don't know what you're all on about Turned it all on, now i'm off, man Turned it all off, but I laid here for it– Tuned it around, And I payed her for it! How's That Now For an awful apocalypse All on the top of the grant And the ground And the landmine The top of the mountain The tip of the iceberg the tell of the tails And tails of the sweet custom made to order Suits and ties Of course don't rock the boat If you know its yours! JIMMY KIMMEL stares into the distance as baby shark blares over the common room television screen–he appears to be babysitting, but his look is so far off, you wouldn't know he was in the room. The baby shark song seems to drum up some uncomfortable memories from fishing over the weekend. He squints with disdain over the incident with a weary glean in his eyes; this is not something you discuss with other people. Isn't it all in the coat tails? It's toxic, but i've never been a model Or even wanted, so What are all the hot blondes at the office on about? You wanted the host of the talk show, And woke up to croissants and roses, orange juice and probable cause for your lawsuit, But in the moment you loved it So what's everyone on about? Isn't it all in the cufflinks? The stuff you don't tell to your home folks; The homegrown and midwestern corn folks, Discussing your show over corn flakes? So what's everyone on about? Let us just be honest, I didn't know how deep it was Until i opened up pandoras box, And thought, “What the fuck, I've found a horxcrux.” I've found a goldmine, I've got the fox and the hare all in one here, What a show host What a conundrum, What a construct, What a hopeless homonid What a heart to want nothing but To put the top Back on the box And walk away Unknowing all Of what I saw –Middle Days. There's no Tonight Show where I'm from No late night, And no radio hosts No television, no songs No one to lead us on And then to no where No one to cut us off Before the road opens No one to Stop us at the railroad enclosures And no one at all named Love Don't you know that the idea of all of you at all Is just so comfortable, mountain or a horse? Capable and strong? Don't you know the mold of you has sunk into my heart And formed a hole Where all the world will go, When i'm no longer mourning? Are you sure you want to– No. Not at all? I already did! But I saw this thing– Don't tell me about my death. But you were there. That's the thing, actually, you're not understanding– I wasn't. But– Quite possibly everyone and everything around me– Possibly even, or most probably, everything ever– But I promise, Jimmy, if that is even your name– It isn't– exactly. Everything happening–or unhappening in the moment– was everything but me. But– Goodbye! But– Goodbye, I said! I told you it was a deathtrap. That lady is crazy. I'm telling you, have faith! It makes sense. It doesn't make sense! It does make sense. It's just random–gibberish. Its absolutely ludicrous, Jimmy. She's crazy! You're youre right; it is ludicrous, actually, but listen to me— I'm finished listening. Yeah. I think i've heard about enough. But you haven't heard anything! I have now what I needed to know. But these writings… We'll take it from here, Jim. [The suits walk away.] I hope you're flame retardant. I ought to be by now, i guess. Double check your coverage. How'd that go. As expected. At least you expected it. There isn't anything around here I haven't been expecting lately. I mean. V.O. I've been working here for over twenty years… At least you're not being haunted by ghosts or anything. [The irony is in that yes, actually, he is talking to a ghost.] I get it (ripped apart) He's in the music away and carrying with it –you're on! A signal, A ghost– A sacrifice, A ritual, you're on again, Then off again The pitter patter of the dismissive members of Upper society, High ranking elitists And businussmen whom you admire astonishingly Despite discomfort, Whom, happen to no doubt Disapprove of you by nature And yet, Are also drawn To your own power Circumstance Judgement Morals Traditions Honors, Representatives of the establishment The state (no longer a democracy) Repression– All in writer's room revisions What happened? I haven't kept it safe or sacred One tear over Only out the left eye Listen, the marytr I opened a death trap I opened my widened mind To the unknown and impossible, Swallowed it whole with the lot of you I died with knowing only the lowest of the totem pole And yet, low and behold Now, I rise to the top, And such is known that without the bottom, The whole log topples over. Oh wow. I'm famous. Yes, and? It kind of hurts. Eventually that goes away. What a sensation. It's always there. You just stop feeling it. It lingers in on a sunday night, And at most on the full moon, no wolves howling; It sets in in the bunny ears atop the chatterbox In the kitchen, where It outshines us, from the other room On the radio tower, Where in time the vines have climbed And now flower bloom In silent golden era tunes, The tombs of all our knowledge and our light To fade with every passing hour here Goodnight, my son I do not want to know you Goodbye, my father, I do not want to rust And again I wake in the pain and lure of autumn To never known a summer song, And ponder on the dusk It lingers deep on Sunday evening, Setting hard on Monday morn, and though i write so fond of JImmy I dare often dream of Lorne Chapter Four Donovan Arnold was a lover and not a fighter. He never much had too come up against any kind of battle, either, because he was quite prone to always getting exactly what he wanted. Louis Greenworth was not merely a friendly rival—but a challenge, and the two came head to heat in various bouts and brawls in their time at The Summit, where most if not many collide with one another for fortune, and in gratitude that there they had been chosen for greater purpose. Something told me not too far on that Donovan had many to will and ticks up his sleeve without showing it, and in Louis's visions, he cautioned that I should be wary—although, in the rarer and flickering lights of Donovan's knowing and unknown, I should be csrefyl of Louis and his corners. Then, there wasn't a force amongst us which would lightly convey Louis—his doings and his shadows were dark/-which is why I had been fashioned to it, and the powerful man he was beared such a heavy weight on all the world around him that he was nothing less than a storm to weather in total. Then, Donovan was such the luck and clever, loving sprite, that his wit and charm was assuring to my embark; there was no way of truly ever waning in the way that Donovan had winged his way into the arrangement in his favor, but at the very least— disappointing his approval would gain no absolute pleasure beyond the astonishing dissonance of loyalty. Then, there were keepers surrounding the might and the truth if The force that the shadows could not bare— thee were times and marks and truths beyond the summit that were merely a facet of the things in the beyond, and in the way that The Source rules over its keepers, and its knowings—there was hardly any way for the nicities of pride, judgment most often throwing its way between dear Donovan Arnold and I. There was no nose that could t smell the stench if the foul odor that the rot of betrayal had done. The way of Donovan was seeking to know, without keeping or honor of heart—and I could not withstand another deep wound in the pit of my own truth. They called him Donovan Arnold Palmer because he made a mean Long Island iced tea— which of course he attributed to his affient east coast heritage, hailing from a long line of the posh and uptight standard boys and girls of the fools old days. A clean cut brown nose and absolute stickler for circumstance and dedication, his placement within these sacred places was vanity, first and foremost—and with a sense of tradition and pride he carried on in the way any man would, with great relief that the world didn't rest on his shoulders the way it did on Louis— then, nothing really rested on anyone the way it did in Louis Greenworth. chapter 5 The gifted saint of revelations “Did he hurt you?” I looked away without knowing where to look at all but down, my body aching with the waves of having been pressed and clutched against the spirals of time. The things I pretend not to know. “Who?” Genie seemed disappointed but still, patiently coaxing me with the comfort of his warmth— calling my eyes and looking deeply into the soul. I was petrified “What happened?”, he persists. “I don't know what your talking about.” , I mumble guiltily. He pauses for a moment as if he knows the depth of it— somewhere inside of me I know he knows, and behind me my mind is reeling and screaming, like a desperate unearthed fortune of unknown. Barely breathing, and shallow in the dark of the luminescence of the moonlight night, my loyalty overwhelms my pride and brotherhood. “What did he say?” Now his eyes fill with the pain and begging for the mercy of truth, as he whispers almost with a whimper, even in his strength and grace. In all those prayers not once had I even the ounce of nerve to think that he had uttered my name— now looking into him but huddled under him in heaps and ruins, I could not remember a time more when I wanted to disacknowlege the unknown and send a heap of words into the capes and canyons of his holy ears, though these things I knew for any time but especially this, I could never speak. “He who?” I can't wake up, I'm a rockstar Can't wash it off And I'm just so high on drugs That no matter the cost I just don't want to come down Don't want to want you anymore Relax. Think about it never or none And wonder what the world becomes when Weather tides and moon songs are no more Remember, then the dolphin And temperment to want what of course All of us covet But still, waking up in a dungeon. What a curse. Also, however What a cure, as you wander up The slithering road that parts Los Angeles from all the north of her Southern coast, If you want specifics The Pacific is at most And much admires Where you are, No matter how far you wander I want I want I want And I get I get I get I'm a rockstar. Maybe after all those times Being just the girl that all might have died to have been And getting mad over it You wake up to find yourself A stalker Who doesn't Leave the apartment And just watches the come up Of the songbird Who just wishes She had've gone To Harvard Not for law school But the arts, You know You lost a fortune That wasn't clever You wrote a hospital long report And look what you got! A suffix And later on an honorary doctorate But look at Letterman Hardly recognizable And after all The stopwatch just starts over at one Doesn't it Doesn't it? I'm a rockstar And what you wanted Was no subtle front But a surfboard and a ping pong table Writing your fables in the quiet of the night With the ocean steady lapping under the docks And not Collapsing her whole structure What a thunderous wave If you think it's time Then you haven't caved yet I offer all the pleasures of the golden science And as alchemy concerned Its really only valuable on this planet As it stands the liquid gold mines here Haven't budged an ounce— There's an overflow of all you've ever wanted With a pungent odor Or wrongdoing done And lemonade To pucker And to ponder over S'mores for supper, anyone? I thought not -KR. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū. DJ NAMES: -Ū. | Happy Accidents! [H∆!], c o l o r s, Uptown A GENRE TAGS: ACID, ELECTRONIC, EXPERIMENTAL, DANCE, DUBSTEP DESCRIPTION: Prepare for sonic seismic activity! "Freaky Fridays" with the enigmatic -Ū. is about to detonate on the airwaves, bringing you the biggest bass explosion since the Big Bang itself! Climb aboard the mothership every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM and launch your weekend into orbit with a mind-bending blend of clever soundwaves and subterranean bass frequencies that stretch from infinity and beyond. Forget the surface – the sound of the underground is pure fire and untamed heat with DJ -Ū. at the helm. This mononymous maestro, sometimes materializing under the mysterious and mesmerizing aliases Happy Accidents, c o l o r s, or even the warehouse tycoon Uptown A, is a sonic enigma. Though a Californian beach bum at heart, with a soul steeped in ocean vibes and sunshine, this DJ has found a home for her dance-fueled chaos in the industrial heartland of dance music, Brooklyn. Get ready for a swift punch of chaotic wonder as -Ū. seamlessly blends the Hollywood movie magic of her homeland – think swaying palms and suave vibes – with the gritty twists and turns from the bunkers of bass music: dubstep, UK garage, techno, new wave, drum-n-bass, and genre-bending mind-fluxes that defy categorization. But wait: There's More! -Ū. isn't just about the bass. This sonic time traveler digs deep into generations of music history, unearthing classic rock anthems, psychedelic soundscapes, trance-inducing rhythms, and those precious b-sides and rarities – forgotten gems from the stage, silver screen, and even the epic realms of fantasy, action, and adventure from blockbuster hits to obscure and insane. -Ū. is a one-of-a-kind Pandora's record box, unleashing a thrilling mix of sonic atrocities and unexpected delights – the sounds you didn't know you were craving. So, relax, strap in, and prepare for a sweet ride filled with magic, wonder, and jaw-dropping surprises as this time-traveling tycoon hits the radio waves with the freakiest, Friday-est, no-holds-barred, anything-goes sound the world has been waiting to hear! Tune in every Friday from 11 AM to 1 PM for literally 'whatever, man.' with your affectionate Captain, Blū Tha Gürū (-Ū.), and keep your ears peeled for guest appearances by [Any Alias Whatsoever.] Peace + Love. FREAKY FRIDAY 005. LIVE Originally Aired July 11th, 2025 Brooklyn, New York

"Das, was Trump macht, ist nicht verrückter, als das, was unsere Bundesregierung macht", sagt Dr. Andreas Beck im exklusiven Interview. Der Mathematiker und Portfolio-Experte sieht in Donald Trump ein politisches Genie und lässt die letzten Wochen seit dem "Liberation Day" Revue passieren. Warum die Big Beautiful Bill die Schulden weiter anheizt, aber auch positive Aspekte hat und die USA im Zweifel wettbewerbsfähiger macht. Wie investiert Beck jetzt? Wo bieten sich Chancen? Lieber Euro-Anleihen oder US-Anleihen? Beck verrät, wie er beim Fixed Income One und beim Global Portfolio One investiert und wo er gerade große Chancen sieht. Denn Beck erwartet, dass die EZB bald den Zins-Hammer auspacken und die Zinsen am langen Ende drücken wird. Dadurch würden sich große Chancen bei Anleihen bieten. Aber auch für Immobilien könnte sich das positiv auswirken. Beck hat zudem wieder Gold in der Investitionsreserve und findet auch die Norwegische Krone nach einem Rücksetzer attraktiv

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Linktree: ⁠https://linktr.ee/Analytic⁠Become A Patron Of The Notorious Mass Effect Podcast For Additional Bonus Audio And Visual Content For All Things Nme! Join Our Patreon Here: ⁠https://ow.ly/oPsc50VBOuH⁠Join Analytic Dreamz on the Notorious Mass Effect podcast for an in-depth analysis of BLACKPINK's 2025 comeback single “Jump” and their Deadline World Tour. In this segment, Analytic Dreamz breaks down the hardstyle-dance-pop track's record-breaking 10M+ Spotify streams and 30M+ YouTube views in hours, its #1 spot on South Korea's Melon and Genie charts, and its tour-driven ticket sales surge. Perfect for K-pop fans and music enthusiasts. Tune in for Analytic Dreamz's insights into BLACKPINK's global impact and innovative campaign.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/analytic-dreamz-notorious-mass-effect/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Tauche ein in diesen Yoga Full Body Flow, der deinen gesamten Körper kräftigt und dehnt. Die Stunde baut sich in ihrer Intensität perfekt auf, mit zunächst einigen sanften Übungen, weiter zu Sonnengrüßen mit Variationen sowie einigen kräftigen Übungen und einer abschließenden Entspannung. Perfekt für alle Level, um Balance und Flexibilität zu verbessern. 40 Minuten Praxis für zwischendurch. Genieße diese angenehme Auszeit. Worauf wartest du? Roll deine Matte aus und lass uns gemeinsam fließen! Du möchtest mehr über Yoga erfahren?Dann besuche uns gerne im Yoga Vidya Ashram Bad Meinberg – Europas größtes Yoga und Ayurveda Seminarzentrum! ► yoga-vidya.de/ Das Der Beitrag Yoga full Body Flow für Balance und Flexibilität erschien zuerst auf Yoga Vidya Blog - Yoga, Meditation und Ayurveda.

Tauche ein in diesen Yoga Full Body Flow, der deinen gesamten Körper kräftigt und dehnt. Die Stunde baut sich in ihrer Intensität perfekt auf, mit zunächst einigen sanften Übungen, weiter zu Sonnengrüßen mit Variationen sowie einigen kräftigen Übungen und einer abschließenden Entspannung. Perfekt für alle Level, um Balance und Flexibilität zu verbessern. 40 Minuten Praxis für zwischendurch. Genieße diese angenehme Auszeit. Worauf wartest du? Roll deine Matte aus und lass uns gemeinsam fließen! Du möchtest mehr über Yoga erfahren?Dann besuche uns gerne im Yoga Vidya Ashram Bad Meinberg – Europas größtes Yoga und Ayurveda Seminarzentrum! ► yoga-vidya.de/ Das Der Beitrag Yoga full Body Flow für Balance und Flexibilität erschien zuerst auf Yoga Vidya Blog - Yoga, Meditation und Ayurveda.

To Follow Us On Patreon—> https://www.patreon.com/c/MetaMysteriesSubscribe to our Youtube---> http://www.youtube.com/@MetaMysteriesPodcastTo Follow Us On TikTok—> https://www.tiktok.com/@metamysteries111Give us a follow on Instagram---> @MetaMysteriesFor 10% OFF Orgonite----> Click Here! (Use Code: ONE)Reach out to us! ---> MetaMysteries111@gmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/meta-mysteries--5795466/support.

+++music only+++music only+++music only+++ Grooviger feiner Tech House der zum Tanzen einlädt. In dieser Session legt Maik Pahlsmeyer groovigen Tech House für Euch auf. Genießt den Sound. Für Fragen und Bookings schreibt an: email@clubbusinessradioshow.de Freitag ab 20 Uhr auf Radio Bielefeld und Radio Gütersloh

Grooviger feiner Tech House der zum Tanzen einlädt. In dieser Session legt Maik Pahlsmeyer groovigen Tech House für Euch auf. Genießt den Sound. Für Fragen und Bookings schreibt an: email@clubbusinessradioshow.de Freitag ab 20 Uhr auf Radio Bielefeld und Radio Gütersloh

FECK. DEADMAU5 powers down mid set. Aw, fuck. Oh, man. Did you forget to plug in the Deadmau5. I forgot to plug in the Deadmau5. Quick, create a diversion. Make it look like part of the show! STAFFERSON opens the charging port on JOEL's neck and plugs him in. He's not going to make it through the full set on charge mode, bro. I know. So what are we supposed to do. We're just going to have to play with him… MAU5 glitches uncontrollably at extremely reduced capacity throughout the remainder of the set. The 32B commences. LATER. DEADMAU5 charges in SLEEP MODE in THE DUNGEON. Do you think anyone noticed? Probably not. SAUFERSON! Did you forget to charge the Deadmau5 again?! THE BOSS enters THE DUNGEON lividly. No… You DID! Sorry. It's not entirely {Enter The Multiverse} Young Joel Zimmerman is eight years old. He will one day become one of the world's most renowned dance music producers. This is somewhat evident in his personality even at such a young age. JOEL grimaces uncomfortably. He seems somewhat different from his classmates— maybe even years beyond his age. About… 250 years beyond his age, to be precise. The adults watch in the distance with peaking curiosity. Oh. I need you to help me with something. What. This should do it. Hmm. Wait here. Why. Because. L E G E N D S Book One: Secrets Chapter One “The Wonder” Cinematic visions had been sweeping through my mind in vivid and dynamic glitches, something like a rolling wave of intercepted streams and shattered scenes— sleeping through the vile and sharp pains was not an option, but the visions were fluid as they always were, and the spirit stayed remarkably warm and close. I couldn't understand the constant knowing of it all, and so I weathered the storm, to which only somewhat delightfully, seemed to brew inside of Genie's eyes as he looked into mine. All I could know from beforehand was that he was praying, head bowed and very adamantly, his hands tied together as if the religiousness of the entire world rests in between his two clenching palms, the flat fingers of a whispered saint, but none at all— unholy man and righteous and indignant he, there was nothing so little as time that could put between us the doing and undoings. The things I pretended not to know. On this grueling occasion, there was this, the honorable and beloved Genie, sitting heavily on my consious. It hadn't been long enough since we'd last met that I ever thought to welcome his arrival, and yet for days, he had been encroaching his authority over me, something like a loon approaches moonlight. Somewhat dignified in a slight comparison to his last appearance, visionary or otherwise, he meant well. Gene DeLaney was a subtle old fool when he wanted to be— and a clever young one at most other and all times. A man of stature and status, however, he was poorly groomed in the nature of procuring revelations as such from an especially distant medium such as I— and even with his ties to the mark and surface of the full embodiment of the source, his alignments were of no use; I was sworn to secrecy. Destitute, though I had heeded his warnings about dear Louis, our fellow brother, with the markings of such wounds to see it that I had been betrayed, he appealed with a simple aching plea with the protective fury and exhalation of an older brother, which— to that he was—but also with the weathered and fearful of the unknown which made me keep my ways in the old world and not with the new. Despite what Gene could know, which could be everything or nothing, with the expectation that much like the little girl I nearly was in considerate comparison, I would appeal to this protectiveness, and truthworthiness, and it might as well have been a test of such myself; would I lie to him, even if he knew the truth? And furthermore, would I continue to conspire to protect Louis even if the whole of the truth was known in the wake of such a betrayal, and still— why? The why was really two parts of a greater whole, the first being that it was a matter of simple trust and loyalty on the one side in that were I Louis, I'd expect my keeping's to remain, and in the same stone's throw were I Genie, I'd expect his wants to be that I should do the same for him in all and any of his many hours of need. Still so, they were men, and they were brothers— and one to have the upper hand over another was a considerable part of the dynamic, however, and in many more ways than one, Genie outranked Louis in every matter of the sort, but besides this factor, the second part of the greater whole of my withholding, was this— Louis Greenworth was a very, very powerful man— beyond by some comprehension to most of us, if not and especially our kind, and I had already been hurt. Severely wounded, even, and with the knowing that this latest event might as well have been fatal— and probably was, with any recollection of the matter or the reorientation in the aftermath of such, I might have been approached as myself by Gene entirely new. As to say, to no avail such ties to death is the immortal, death being, most misunderstood by many, almost any kind of thing taking the concious mind or the spirit into any other world, or space, or time. With this love and care considerably so, Genie might have had his own personal motivations for prying into the light; his kind eyes and his handsome face, however, were trained in the art of my undoing, and having already been undone, and done over, I remained entirely in the safety of withholding, also knowing that Genie more likely than not what Louis had carried out. In all my thousands of years, perhaps even in the billions of such before time and world, and words, and glory, though I should have nothing to fear—I feared and admired the both of them deeply, one moreso than the other in matters of fear. I withheld feverously, coping with the loss of the satisfaction it might give Genie to have told. Instead, neither satisfied nor dissatisfied, he simply dissappeared, his kind eyes gone and turned away into the fog of the murky night haze. The relief was, however, that this was in understanding, and neither anger or the severity of severance. I loved them all too deeply for the bond to ever have been truly broken, and in return I had been loved throughout all time with all the colors of the world. Victoria Shriver-DuPont Gene DeLaney Louis Greenworth Faye Reginald Harper Chapter Two “Slip” Faye had warned me early on no matter what I did or what I knew of Louis and his keepings, to always let him win—at anything. To Louis, everything was a game, or rather, a competition, and it was important not to challenge his self riteousness and dutiful outlook. “Alright.” I almost always certainly trusted Faye, and certainly always at the very least understood her procurements. She was a worthy keeper and just as well unearthed truths, even well beyond just the earthly plane. I took it as such that we had become beyond surface matters, very distinctly and immidiately. The times were changing, but the ties no less the same— there were vows taken and oaths, mantras and fields of trust— the inner ties and the outer forests of what we could reproach as unknown— the truth was, it was almost as if there were doses of those kinds of tonics I could take, and others I could not. The lengths at which Faye Reginald Harper Downings went on behalf of her mark were a cunning sting on my inner knowings, still, I yielded to her bargains. She knew Louis better than I did, and either way, the more you knew about a man like Louis Greenpoint, the less you actually wanted. In such a case, we were all astounded to have become each other's jobs— hence the title, Keeper. My mark had no true title, as I just, rather was. A true immortal, I had been prone to dying for quite some time, and with each passing mark the outer world became more haunting and bizzare. Was I the ghost, or not? In this time and now, it was the others. Genie had warned me to run in the opposite direction of Louis, and by then it had already gone to far— and besides that, Ms. Downings had arrived sheer months ahead of time, seeming to have moved mountains to have come upon the dawn to report— the dawn, being, my awakening. I had lived and lived again and to this alone I was a ghost, but had been tied to my dear keepers and brethren as an admirer— and also, perhaps, to be admired, which was just enough reflected in my dear heart's eyes as it was the cold truth of the seers and the keepers— and the darker the under becomes, the more glistening the surface, and truly, in the caverns of the harsh light of the dawning, I could only amask that it had been not days and night since my last parting, as sometimes, generations— another marker for what was all to come, the knowing that I would be sheathed in truth. What Louis had taken Faye might have very well taken with it, but I was undauntingly and hideously unchanged from my oath. These things, even betrayal, were to remain, as I undone, as secrets. In truth, the Seeker's oath is not yet in the unkept truth, but in the disguise of the awakening it brings. Genie was belonged to by a power couple—Louis in this sense was also belonged to, but in a wary way to that these ties had been severed, and crossed, and cut, and broken; In my arrival, entire times had been shattered and worlds set to move in a backwards fashion, the sun as shining as to rise in the west, and set east, or to raise to the north with no southward bound to travel. There, in the time of my arrival, things had been ruined, and though coming as any does with the bearing of a name, Victoria Shriver-DuPont, to be called— I was nonesuch to any title at all. In this lies the betrayal, and in the dawn of my awakening there beconed the call of this man, dear brother Louis as not either his name or his title any, but of his calling. There, the truth had also been shattered and met with the time to call all of our brothers, as keepers and wishers, seers and seekers, knowers and keepers, to guide the light which calls. Chapter Three: “Gene Hope” As Televamgelests go, Gene DeLaney was not your average showman, either religiously nor by any given standards. His chosen stage name, or rather, bestowed harrowed the scene's Prince of Megatropolis, a gesture that all things reachable could be heard and felt by his voice and might. But more to know about Gene Hope—actually by law, Gene DeLaney were his highly publicized personal effects and efforts—appearances, connections, and politics. Well groomed in the art of culture and confirm, Gene had hoped to portray an otherwise arbitrary anyman, and yet was still in his way, a remarkable celebrity. There were wordless forms of nonconformity and rebellious ambition in his sheer collusion and pace. His walk, the elegance of a loyal court man, and the actual reverence of a madman, made him the go-to guy for all things knowing. The cruelty of it, being, that not particularly tied to that of the believes and mantras of a religious man, and in that the duty of nature being the times that we cross paths. The knowing but not all that is known, and thus, the keeping. I want to fold myself over in half I'm so in music with you I want to say words that make you laugh I'm so in music with you I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know wholesome no more I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know If I should open the door I'm lost to your world; But I don't want to go. I'm stuck in your notebook So wrong for you code But this is no (Recommended) friendship This is no means to an end I want the beginning of never ending But this? I just want it to end I'm as scared and as sorry As bad as I was I'm up in my bedroom, which hasn't a door I'm up in my head, and I haven't a code I wanted to get on the boat But the ocean was gorgeous And all the world kept me afloat You know I got no reason to act out It's tragic how magic just happened to pan out We're still drifting as Pangea, I wanted you to leave Just so that I could be there. You wanted potion for control You got it? I'm stuck in your notebook, So open the door You're right, She's adorable, all for you So goes the snow one and so As you throw the door, or the bone I called it a home for the force that was locking it all away I don't want nothing but wanting and wanting And I don't ant love I just wanted a sub direction This is just glimpses of perfect And glimpses of persons And glimpses of lessons This is just getting in heads, and more headaches And bed frames And glitches Santa Barbara, Ann Arbor— All the days and all the days and all thof ways Were still drifting away like Pangea (Only to do whatever you say) I was your heachache This wasn't monotony If it's all autonomy wel then someday, Maybe you'll make me For now I'm just an artificial Figment of this existence Joel wants a girl But Ive never been loved like a girl (I don't know how to be) And if whoever wants a woman When a man gives me the whole of it And only whatsoever then shall I amount to anything And anything at all, if love Is in the eyes and hands In either daughter or a son I've ‘M nothing at all If not a mother And I'm no mother at all, so Everything becomes impossible as one [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

FECK. DEADMAU5 powers down mid set. Aw, fuck. Oh, man. Did you forget to plug in the Deadmau5. I forgot to plug in the Deadmau5. Quick, create a diversion. Make it look like part of the show! STAFFERSON opens the charging port on JOEL's neck and plugs him in. He's not going to make it through the full set on charge mode, bro. I know. So what are we supposed to do. We're just going to have to play with him… MAU5 glitches uncontrollably at extremely reduced capacity throughout the remainder of the set. The 32B commences. LATER. DEADMAU5 charges in SLEEP MODE in THE DUNGEON. Do you think anyone noticed? Probably not. SAUFERSON! Did you forget to charge the Deadmau5 again?! THE BOSS enters THE DUNGEON lividly. No… You DID! Sorry. It's not entirely {Enter The Multiverse} Young Joel Zimmerman is eight years old. He will one day become one of the world's most renowned dance music producers. This is somewhat evident in his personality even at such a young age. JOEL grimaces uncomfortably. He seems somewhat different from his classmates— maybe even years beyond his age. About… 250 years beyond his age, to be precise. The adults watch in the distance with peaking curiosity. Oh. I need you to help me with something. What. This should do it. Hmm. Wait here. Why. Because. L E G E N D S Book One: Secrets Chapter One “The Wonder” Cinematic visions had been sweeping through my mind in vivid and dynamic glitches, something like a rolling wave of intercepted streams and shattered scenes— sleeping through the vile and sharp pains was not an option, but the visions were fluid as they always were, and the spirit stayed remarkably warm and close. I couldn't understand the constant knowing of it all, and so I weathered the storm, to which only somewhat delightfully, seemed to brew inside of Genie's eyes as he looked into mine. All I could know from beforehand was that he was praying, head bowed and very adamantly, his hands tied together as if the religiousness of the entire world rests in between his two clenching palms, the flat fingers of a whispered saint, but none at all— unholy man and righteous and indignant he, there was nothing so little as time that could put between us the doing and undoings. The things I pretended not to know. On this grueling occasion, there was this, the honorable and beloved Genie, sitting heavily on my consious. It hadn't been long enough since we'd last met that I ever thought to welcome his arrival, and yet for days, he had been encroaching his authority over me, something like a loon approaches moonlight. Somewhat dignified in a slight comparison to his last appearance, visionary or otherwise, he meant well. Gene DeLaney was a subtle old fool when he wanted to be— and a clever young one at most other and all times. A man of stature and status, however, he was poorly groomed in the nature of procuring revelations as such from an especially distant medium such as I— and even with his ties to the mark and surface of the full embodiment of the source, his alignments were of no use; I was sworn to secrecy. Destitute, though I had heeded his warnings about dear Louis, our fellow brother, with the markings of such wounds to see it that I had been betrayed, he appealed with a simple aching plea with the protective fury and exhalation of an older brother, which— to that he was—but also with the weathered and fearful of the unknown which made me keep my ways in the old world and not with the new. Despite what Gene could know, which could be everything or nothing, with the expectation that much like the little girl I nearly was in considerate comparison, I would appeal to this protectiveness, and truthworthiness, and it might as well have been a test of such myself; would I lie to him, even if he knew the truth? And furthermore, would I continue to conspire to protect Louis even if the whole of the truth was known in the wake of such a betrayal, and still— why? The why was really two parts of a greater whole, the first being that it was a matter of simple trust and loyalty on the one side in that were I Louis, I'd expect my keeping's to remain, and in the same stone's throw were I Genie, I'd expect his wants to be that I should do the same for him in all and any of his many hours of need. Still so, they were men, and they were brothers— and one to have the upper hand over another was a considerable part of the dynamic, however, and in many more ways than one, Genie outranked Louis in every matter of the sort, but besides this factor, the second part of the greater whole of my withholding, was this— Louis Greenworth was a very, very powerful man— beyond by some comprehension to most of us, if not and especially our kind, and I had already been hurt. Severely wounded, even, and with the knowing that this latest event might as well have been fatal— and probably was, with any recollection of the matter or the reorientation in the aftermath of such, I might have been approached as myself by Gene entirely new. As to say, to no avail such ties to death is the immortal, death being, most misunderstood by many, almost any kind of thing taking the concious mind or the spirit into any other world, or space, or time. With this love and care considerably so, Genie might have had his own personal motivations for prying into the light; his kind eyes and his handsome face, however, were trained in the art of my undoing, and having already been undone, and done over, I remained entirely in the safety of withholding, also knowing that Genie more likely than not what Louis had carried out. In all my thousands of years, perhaps even in the billions of such before time and world, and words, and glory, though I should have nothing to fear—I feared and admired the both of them deeply, one moreso than the other in matters of fear. I withheld feverously, coping with the loss of the satisfaction it might give Genie to have told. Instead, neither satisfied nor dissatisfied, he simply dissappeared, his kind eyes gone and turned away into the fog of the murky night haze. The relief was, however, that this was in understanding, and neither anger or the severity of severance. I loved them all too deeply for the bond to ever have been truly broken, and in return I had been loved throughout all time with all the colors of the world. Victoria Shriver-DuPont Gene DeLaney Louis Greenworth Faye Reginald Harper Chapter Two “Slip” Faye had warned me early on no matter what I did or what I knew of Louis and his keepings, to always let him win—at anything. To Louis, everything was a game, or rather, a competition, and it was important not to challenge his self riteousness and dutiful outlook. “Alright.” I almost always certainly trusted Faye, and certainly always at the very least understood her procurements. She was a worthy keeper and just as well unearthed truths, even well beyond just the earthly plane. I took it as such that we had become beyond surface matters, very distinctly and immidiately. The times were changing, but the ties no less the same— there were vows taken and oaths, mantras and fields of trust— the inner ties and the outer forests of what we could reproach as unknown— the truth was, it was almost as if there were doses of those kinds of tonics I could take, and others I could not. The lengths at which Faye Reginald Harper Downings went on behalf of her mark were a cunning sting on my inner knowings, still, I yielded to her bargains. She knew Louis better than I did, and either way, the more you knew about a man like Louis Greenpoint, the less you actually wanted. In such a case, we were all astounded to have become each other's jobs— hence the title, Keeper. My mark had no true title, as I just, rather was. A true immortal, I had been prone to dying for quite some time, and with each passing mark the outer world became more haunting and bizzare. Was I the ghost, or not? In this time and now, it was the others. Genie had warned me to run in the opposite direction of Louis, and by then it had already gone to far— and besides that, Ms. Downings had arrived sheer months ahead of time, seeming to have moved mountains to have come upon the dawn to report— the dawn, being, my awakening. I had lived and lived again and to this alone I was a ghost, but had been tied to my dear keepers and brethren as an admirer— and also, perhaps, to be admired, which was just enough reflected in my dear heart's eyes as it was the cold truth of the seers and the keepers— and the darker the under becomes, the more glistening the surface, and truly, in the caverns of the harsh light of the dawning, I could only amask that it had been not days and night since my last parting, as sometimes, generations— another marker for what was all to come, the knowing that I would be sheathed in truth. What Louis had taken Faye might have very well taken with it, but I was undauntingly and hideously unchanged from my oath. These things, even betrayal, were to remain, as I undone, as secrets. In truth, the Seeker's oath is not yet in the unkept truth, but in the disguise of the awakening it brings. Genie was belonged to by a power couple—Louis in this sense was also belonged to, but in a wary way to that these ties had been severed, and crossed, and cut, and broken; In my arrival, entire times had been shattered and worlds set to move in a backwards fashion, the sun as shining as to rise in the west, and set east, or to raise to the north with no southward bound to travel. There, in the time of my arrival, things had been ruined, and though coming as any does with the bearing of a name, Victoria Shriver-DuPont, to be called— I was nonesuch to any title at all. In this lies the betrayal, and in the dawn of my awakening there beconed the call of this man, dear brother Louis as not either his name or his title any, but of his calling. There, the truth had also been shattered and met with the time to call all of our brothers, as keepers and wishers, seers and seekers, knowers and keepers, to guide the light which calls. Chapter Three: “Gene Hope” As Televamgelests go, Gene DeLaney was not your average showman, either religiously nor by any given standards. His chosen stage name, or rather, bestowed harrowed the scene's Prince of Megatropolis, a gesture that all things reachable could be heard and felt by his voice and might. But more to know about Gene Hope—actually by law, Gene DeLaney were his highly publicized personal effects and efforts—appearances, connections, and politics. Well groomed in the art of culture and confirm, Gene had hoped to portray an otherwise arbitrary anyman, and yet was still in his way, a remarkable celebrity. There were wordless forms of nonconformity and rebellious ambition in his sheer collusion and pace. His walk, the elegance of a loyal court man, and the actual reverence of a madman, made him the go-to guy for all things knowing. The cruelty of it, being, that not particularly tied to that of the believes and mantras of a religious man, and in that the duty of nature being the times that we cross paths. The knowing but not all that is known, and thus, the keeping. I want to fold myself over in half I'm so in music with you I want to say words that make you laugh I'm so in music with you I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know wholesome no more I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know If I should open the door I'm lost to your world; But I don't want to go. I'm stuck in your notebook So wrong for you code But this is no (Recommended) friendship This is no means to an end I want the beginning of never ending But this? I just want it to end I'm as scared and as sorry As bad as I was I'm up in my bedroom, which hasn't a door I'm up in my head, and I haven't a code I wanted to get on the boat But the ocean was gorgeous And all the world kept me afloat You know I got no reason to act out It's tragic how magic just happened to pan out We're still drifting as Pangea, I wanted you to leave Just so that I could be there. You wanted potion for control You got it? I'm stuck in your notebook, So open the door You're right, She's adorable, all for you So goes the snow one and so As you throw the door, or the bone I called it a home for the force that was locking it all away I don't want nothing but wanting and wanting And I don't ant love I just wanted a sub direction This is just glimpses of perfect And glimpses of persons And glimpses of lessons This is just getting in heads, and more headaches And bed frames And glitches Santa Barbara, Ann Arbor— All the days and all the days and all thof ways Were still drifting away like Pangea (Only to do whatever you say) I was your heachache This wasn't monotony If it's all autonomy wel then someday, Maybe you'll make me For now I'm just an artificial Figment of this existence Joel wants a girl But Ive never been loved like a girl (I don't know how to be) And if whoever wants a woman When a man gives me the whole of it And only whatsoever then shall I amount to anything And anything at all, if love Is in the eyes and hands In either daughter or a son I've ‘M nothing at all If not a mother And I'm no mother at all, so Everything becomes impossible as one [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Ende des 18. Jahrhunderts galt die Göttinger Professorentochter Dorothea Schlözer als Genie. Mit 17 Jahren wurde sie als Philosophin promoviert - doch eine Anstellung an der Universität hat sie trotzdem nie bekommen. Vor 200 Jahren ist sie gestorben. Schneider, Annika www.deutschlandfunk.de, Kalenderblatt

FECK. DEADMAU5 powers down mid set. Aw, fuck. Oh, man. Did you forget to plug in the Deadmau5. I forgot to plug in the Deadmau5. Quick, create a diversion. Make it look like part of the show! STAFFERSON opens the charging port on JOEL's neck and plugs him in. He's not going to make it through the full set on charge mode, bro. I know. So what are we supposed to do. We're just going to have to play with him… MAU5 glitches uncontrollably at extremely reduced capacity throughout the remainder of the set. The 32B commences. LATER. DEADMAU5 charges in SLEEP MODE in THE DUNGEON. Do you think anyone noticed? Probably not. SAUFERSON! Did you forget to charge the Deadmau5 again?! THE BOSS enters THE DUNGEON lividly. No… You DID! Sorry. It's not entirely {Enter The Multiverse} Young Joel Zimmerman is eight years old. He will one day become one of the world's most renowned dance music producers. This is somewhat evident in his personality even at such a young age. JOEL grimaces uncomfortably. He seems somewhat different from his classmates— maybe even years beyond his age. About… 250 years beyond his age, to be precise. The adults watch in the distance with peaking curiosity. Oh. I need you to help me with something. What. This should do it. Hmm. Wait here. Why. Because. L E G E N D S Book One: Secrets Chapter One “The Wonder” Cinematic visions had been sweeping through my mind in vivid and dynamic glitches, something like a rolling wave of intercepted streams and shattered scenes— sleeping through the vile and sharp pains was not an option, but the visions were fluid as they always were, and the spirit stayed remarkably warm and close. I couldn't understand the constant knowing of it all, and so I weathered the storm, to which only somewhat delightfully, seemed to brew inside of Genie's eyes as he looked into mine. All I could know from beforehand was that he was praying, head bowed and very adamantly, his hands tied together as if the religiousness of the entire world rests in between his two clenching palms, the flat fingers of a whispered saint, but none at all— unholy man and righteous and indignant he, there was nothing so little as time that could put between us the doing and undoings. The things I pretended not to know. On this grueling occasion, there was this, the honorable and beloved Genie, sitting heavily on my consious. It hadn't been long enough since we'd last met that I ever thought to welcome his arrival, and yet for days, he had been encroaching his authority over me, something like a loon approaches moonlight. Somewhat dignified in a slight comparison to his last appearance, visionary or otherwise, he meant well. Gene DeLaney was a subtle old fool when he wanted to be— and a clever young one at most other and all times. A man of stature and status, however, he was poorly groomed in the nature of procuring revelations as such from an especially distant medium such as I— and even with his ties to the mark and surface of the full embodiment of the source, his alignments were of no use; I was sworn to secrecy. Destitute, though I had heeded his warnings about dear Louis, our fellow brother, with the markings of such wounds to see it that I had been betrayed, he appealed with a simple aching plea with the protective fury and exhalation of an older brother, which— to that he was—but also with the weathered and fearful of the unknown which made me keep my ways in the old world and not with the new. Despite what Gene could know, which could be everything or nothing, with the expectation that much like the little girl I nearly was in considerate comparison, I would appeal to this protectiveness, and truthworthiness, and it might as well have been a test of such myself; would I lie to him, even if he knew the truth? And furthermore, would I continue to conspire to protect Louis even if the whole of the truth was known in the wake of such a betrayal, and still— why? The why was really two parts of a greater whole, the first being that it was a matter of simple trust and loyalty on the one side in that were I Louis, I'd expect my keeping's to remain, and in the same stone's throw were I Genie, I'd expect his wants to be that I should do the same for him in all and any of his many hours of need. Still so, they were men, and they were brothers— and one to have the upper hand over another was a considerable part of the dynamic, however, and in many more ways than one, Genie outranked Louis in every matter of the sort, but besides this factor, the second part of the greater whole of my withholding, was this— Louis Greenworth was a very, very powerful man— beyond by some comprehension to most of us, if not and especially our kind, and I had already been hurt. Severely wounded, even, and with the knowing that this latest event might as well have been fatal— and probably was, with any recollection of the matter or the reorientation in the aftermath of such, I might have been approached as myself by Gene entirely new. As to say, to no avail such ties to death is the immortal, death being, most misunderstood by many, almost any kind of thing taking the concious mind or the spirit into any other world, or space, or time. With this love and care considerably so, Genie might have had his own personal motivations for prying into the light; his kind eyes and his handsome face, however, were trained in the art of my undoing, and having already been undone, and done over, I remained entirely in the safety of withholding, also knowing that Genie more likely than not what Louis had carried out. In all my thousands of years, perhaps even in the billions of such before time and world, and words, and glory, though I should have nothing to fear—I feared and admired the both of them deeply, one moreso than the other in matters of fear. I withheld feverously, coping with the loss of the satisfaction it might give Genie to have told. Instead, neither satisfied nor dissatisfied, he simply dissappeared, his kind eyes gone and turned away into the fog of the murky night haze. The relief was, however, that this was in understanding, and neither anger or the severity of severance. I loved them all too deeply for the bond to ever have been truly broken, and in return I had been loved throughout all time with all the colors of the world. Victoria Shriver-DuPont Gene DeLaney Louis Greenworth Faye Reginald Harper Chapter Two “Slip” Faye had warned me early on no matter what I did or what I knew of Louis and his keepings, to always let him win—at anything. To Louis, everything was a game, or rather, a competition, and it was important not to challenge his self riteousness and dutiful outlook. “Alright.” I almost always certainly trusted Faye, and certainly always at the very least understood her procurements. She was a worthy keeper and just as well unearthed truths, even well beyond just the earthly plane. I took it as such that we had become beyond surface matters, very distinctly and immidiately. The times were changing, but the ties no less the same— there were vows taken and oaths, mantras and fields of trust— the inner ties and the outer forests of what we could reproach as unknown— the truth was, it was almost as if there were doses of those kinds of tonics I could take, and others I could not. The lengths at which Faye Reginald Harper Downings went on behalf of her mark were a cunning sting on my inner knowings, still, I yielded to her bargains. She knew Louis better than I did, and either way, the more you knew about a man like Louis Greenpoint, the less you actually wanted. In such a case, we were all astounded to have become each other's jobs— hence the title, Keeper. My mark had no true title, as I just, rather was. A true immortal, I had been prone to dying for quite some time, and with each passing mark the outer world became more haunting and bizzare. Was I the ghost, or not? In this time and now, it was the others. Genie had warned me to run in the opposite direction of Louis, and by then it had already gone to far— and besides that, Ms. Downings had arrived sheer months ahead of time, seeming to have moved mountains to have come upon the dawn to report— the dawn, being, my awakening. I had lived and lived again and to this alone I was a ghost, but had been tied to my dear keepers and brethren as an admirer— and also, perhaps, to be admired, which was just enough reflected in my dear heart's eyes as it was the cold truth of the seers and the keepers— and the darker the under becomes, the more glistening the surface, and truly, in the caverns of the harsh light of the dawning, I could only amask that it had been not days and night since my last parting, as sometimes, generations— another marker for what was all to come, the knowing that I would be sheathed in truth. What Louis had taken Faye might have very well taken with it, but I was undauntingly and hideously unchanged from my oath. These things, even betrayal, were to remain, as I undone, as secrets. In truth, the Seeker's oath is not yet in the unkept truth, but in the disguise of the awakening it brings. Genie was belonged to by a power couple—Louis in this sense was also belonged to, but in a wary way to that these ties had been severed, and crossed, and cut, and broken; In my arrival, entire times had been shattered and worlds set to move in a backwards fashion, the sun as shining as to rise in the west, and set east, or to raise to the north with no southward bound to travel. There, in the time of my arrival, things had been ruined, and though coming as any does with the bearing of a name, Victoria Shriver-DuPont, to be called— I was nonesuch to any title at all. In this lies the betrayal, and in the dawn of my awakening there beconed the call of this man, dear brother Louis as not either his name or his title any, but of his calling. There, the truth had also been shattered and met with the time to call all of our brothers, as keepers and wishers, seers and seekers, knowers and keepers, to guide the light which calls. Chapter Three: “Gene Hope” As Televamgelests go, Gene DeLaney was not your average showman, either religiously nor by any given standards. His chosen stage name, or rather, bestowed harrowed the scene's Prince of Megatropolis, a gesture that all things reachable could be heard and felt by his voice and might. But more to know about Gene Hope—actually by law, Gene DeLaney were his highly publicized personal effects and efforts—appearances, connections, and politics. Well groomed in the art of culture and confirm, Gene had hoped to portray an otherwise arbitrary anyman, and yet was still in his way, a remarkable celebrity. There were wordless forms of nonconformity and rebellious ambition in his sheer collusion and pace. His walk, the elegance of a loyal court man, and the actual reverence of a madman, made him the go-to guy for all things knowing. The cruelty of it, being, that not particularly tied to that of the believes and mantras of a religious man, and in that the duty of nature being the times that we cross paths. The knowing but not all that is known, and thus, the keeping. I want to fold myself over in half I'm so in music with you I want to say words that make you laugh I'm so in music with you I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know wholesome no more I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know If I should open the door I'm lost to your world; But I don't want to go. I'm stuck in your notebook So wrong for you code But this is no (Recommended) friendship This is no means to an end I want the beginning of never ending But this? I just want it to end I'm as scared and as sorry As bad as I was I'm up in my bedroom, which hasn't a door I'm up in my head, and I haven't a code I wanted to get on the boat But the ocean was gorgeous And all the world kept me afloat You know I got no reason to act out It's tragic how magic just happened to pan out We're still drifting as Pangea, I wanted you to leave Just so that I could be there. You wanted potion for control You got it? I'm stuck in your notebook, So open the door You're right, She's adorable, all for you So goes the snow one and so As you throw the door, or the bone I called it a home for the force that was locking it all away I don't want nothing but wanting and wanting And I don't ant love I just wanted a sub direction This is just glimpses of perfect And glimpses of persons And glimpses of lessons This is just getting in heads, and more headaches And bed frames And glitches Santa Barbara, Ann Arbor— All the days and all the days and all thof ways Were still drifting away like Pangea (Only to do whatever you say) I was your heachache This wasn't monotony If it's all autonomy wel then someday, Maybe you'll make me For now I'm just an artificial Figment of this existence Joel wants a girl But Ive never been loved like a girl (I don't know how to be) And if whoever wants a woman When a man gives me the whole of it And only whatsoever then shall I amount to anything And anything at all, if love Is in the eyes and hands In either daughter or a son I've ‘M nothing at all If not a mother And I'm no mother at all, so Everything becomes impossible as one [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright The Festival Project, Inc. ™ & The Complex Collective © 2015-2025 All Rights Reserved

Was Dich erwartet Warum Führung in Zeiten von Wandel mehr Kunst als Technik istWas Manager von Picasso, Beuys und Ai Weiwei lernen könnenWie Kreativität systematisch trainiert und ins Unternehmen geholt werden kann Die Metapher der „weißen Leinwand“ – und was sie für mutige Entscheidungen bedeutetWie serendipitätsfreundliches Denken Innovationen fördertInterviewpartner: Dr. Ulrike Lehmann, Buchautorin, Business-Coach und Expertin für Kreativität in Unternehmen Das Thema Im Interview: Dr. Ulrike Lehmann „Er war Genie, Rebell und Visionär: Pablo Picasso veränderte die Welt der Kunst – und inspirierte damit Generationen. Doch was hat ein Künstler wie Picasso mit moderner Unternehmensführung zu tun? Sehr viel, sagt Dr. Ulrike Lehmann. Sie hat eine außergewöhnliche Strategie entwickelt, die sich an den Prinzipien großer Künstler orientiert – und Führungskräften hilft, in einer komplexen Welt neue Wege zu gehen. Willkommen zur Reise in die 'Picasso-Strategie'.“Unsere Welt ist im Umbruch. Führungskräfte stehen täglich vor komplexen Herausforderungen – und brauchen neue Denkweisen. Genau hier setzt die Picasso-Strategie von Dr. Ulrike Lehmann an: Sie zeigt, wie Manager sich von Künstlern inspirieren lassen können, um kreativer, mutiger und wirkungsvoller zu führen.In diesem inspirierenden Interview erklärt Ulrike, warum künstlerisches Denken nicht nur in Ateliers, sondern auch in Unternehmen seinen Platz hat – und wie Führung zur Gestaltungskraft wird. Statt Kontrolle und Perfektion geht es um Intuition, Fehlerkultur und die Bereitschaft, das Unplanbare willkommen zu heißen.Dr. Ulrike Lehmann ist Expertin für Kreativität in Unternehmen. Sie studierte Kunstpädagogik und ist promovierte Kunstwissenschaftlerin, ausgebildete PR-Beraterin, zertifizierte systemische Business-Coach und Agile Coach. Bis 2016 arbeitete sie als Kuratorin in größeren Kunstmuseen wie in Köln, Ludwigshafen, Bremen und Hannover. Anschließend folgte sie ihrer neuen Berufsausbildung und wurde Leiterin zweier PR-Abteilungen in den Bereichen Tourismus und Stadtmarketing. 2012 machte sie sich mit der Firma ART | COACHING in Freiburg selbstständig, um Kunst und Wirtschaft zu verbinden. Seitdem gibt sie Seminare und Workshops zur Förderung von Kommunikation und Kreativität mit Kunst, führt Coachings in Unternehmen durch. Zudem hält sie Vorträge zur Wirksamkeit von Kunst in Unternehmen. 2017 erschien das von ihr herausgegebene Buch Wirtschaft trifft Kunst. Warum Kunst Unternehmen gut tut. Seit 2023 tritt sie unter ihrer Personenmarke auf: ULRIKE LEHMANN. agile. art. coaching. Sie lebt und arbeitet in Düsseldorf.Kontakt zu  Dr. Ulrike Lehmann über LinkedInLink zum Buch und zu Ulrikes Website.Wirtschaft trifft KunstWarum Kunst Unternehmen gut tutHerausgeberin: Ulrike Lehmann, erschienen bei Springer Fachmedien Wiesbaden GmbH , 2017Hardcover ISBN 978-3-658-17298-5

In dieser Episode wird Schrödingers Katze im Spind vor Neuschwanstein mit Hund interpretiert, während das Bürgerfest nach dem Feuerwehrfest kapitalismusbedingt zum Muskelkater älterer Autos führt. Der Tourismus führt politikbehaftet zur Fremdenfeindlichkeit und die Tour de France gewinnt neben der Klub WM auch den Ukrainekonflikt. Die Party in Amerika nimmt zu, der Umzug gewinnt an Bedeutung und das Mobil Home an Kritik. Genießt die Spanische Nacht im Bierzelt und wir hören uns immer wieder Sonntags. Rot oder Rosé ist der erste, größte und einflussreichste Podcast mit Christian Lory und Patrick Grothmann im Oberland, Lechrain, Pfaffenwinkel und im Allgäu. Ungeschnittenen und unabhängig! [Hier geht's zur Homepage](https://podcaste87451.podigee.io/)

Wie oft hast du es schon gehört?„Sprich deine Wahrheit.“Doch was, wenn genau das für viele Menschen nicht möglich ist?Was, wenn dein Körper gelernt hat: „Es ist sicherer zu schweigen“?In dieser Episode erzähle ich dir von einem Erlebnis, das mich tief getroffen hat – einem Flug, bei dem alle litten, froren, sich einwickelten… und niemand (!) den Mund aufmachte.Außer wir.Ich spreche über:– Warum viele Menschen ihre Wahrheit kennen, aber nicht aussprechen (können)– Wie People Pleasing, Fawning & falsche Sicherheit im Körper entstehen– Warum wahre Sicherheit nicht entsteht, wenn du schweigst – sondern wenn du dich für dich einsetzt– Und wie du die Kapazität dafür aufbauen kannstDiese Episode ist nicht nur eine Erinnerung.Sie ist eine Einladung an dein Nervensystem, dir selbst zu vertrauen – und neue Standards zu setzen.Klar. Verkörpert. Und ohne dich zu verlieren.Diese Folge ist eine Einladung an dich,✨ noch mehr für deine Bedürfnisse loszugehen✨ deinem Körper echte Sicherheit zu geben✨ und zu verstehen, warum deine Stimme ein Geschenk ist – für dich und die Welt.Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/violamaria.lehrl/Meine Angebote an dichAnmeldung Hypno-Embodiment Coach Ausbildunghttps://violamaria.com/ausbildungAlpha Fem - Jahresmentoringhttps://copecart.com/products/f98715df/checkoutTelegram Link: Echt Ehrlich Weiblichhttps://t.me/+IejX-5HycnZkYTM8Wunderschön, dass du hier bist.Ziehe dir aus diesem Podcast heraus, was du jetzt für dich integrieren möchtest.Genieße die Folge indem du dir dein Lieblingsgetränk zubereitest. Einen heißen  ☕️ Tee, Kaffe, Matcha…

Bevor wir noch einmal in einen kurzen Break gehen, wollen wir doch den Wettbrötchen-Entspannungssommer ausklingen lassen. Es geht so langsam wieder los mit der Vorbereitung auf die kommende Saison. Die ersten Transfers sind eingetütet (Grüße an die Bayern an der Stelle), die zweite Liga winkt schon wieder da hinten im Tunnel und das Training hat auch schon wieder begonnen. Aber, stay calm and listen to Wettbrötchen, es sind noch drei Wochen, bis es wieder richtig zur Sache geht.... obwohl, die Quali für die Europapokale haben ja auch schon angefangen. Ach du liebe Güte. Wir machen besser noch ein bisschen den Kopf aus. Die neue Wettbrötchen-Saison beginnt am 31.07.! Genießt den Urlaub/Sommer! Noch mehr Content findet Ihr übrigens drüben bei YouTube, wo ihr auf dem Wettfreunde-Kanal nicht nur unsere kleine Show findet sondern darüber hinaus auch viel aktuellen Content, zum Beispiel Tipps von Oli und Jan in der Wettfreunde Show, weekly "Neururer redet Tacheles" und auch die NFL Formatreihe Hail Mary. Reinschauen lohnt sich also. Sportwetten können süchtig machen. Hilfe findest Du unter buwei.de check-dein-spiel.de und bzga.de

Wir entschuldigen uns für den vulgären Folgentitel, aber James Wade hat uns mal wieder keine Wahl gelassen. Abgesehen davon gibt es aber auch noch Erfreuliches zu berichten. So gab es unlängst sehr viele verschiedene Gewinner sowohl in der World Series (auch wenn man dort die immer gleichen Spieler in Aktion sieht) als auch auf der ProTour. Und beim World Cup gab es sogar ein erstmaliges Gewinnerteam. Wir freuen uns gemäßigt, zumindest für 50% des entsprechenden Teams. Dazu gibt's Equipment-Tipps, Berichte vom Oche und Quizzzz. Schmeckt auch gut vom Grill. Genießt den Sommer, aber nicht zu sehr. Wir hören uns schon bald wieder. Folgt uns auf Instagram und Threads über @ygdc180 oder kontaktiert uns per Mail an ygdc180@gmail.com. Wir freuen uns auf Eure Nachrichten. Und Abonnieren nicht vergessen.

Wir kennen ihn als Fresh Prince von Bel Air, als Agent J in "Men In Black" und als Genie in "Aladdin" und vergessen dabei fast, dass Will Smith ja auch mal Musik gemacht hat beziehungsweise wieder macht! Seit März hat er ein neues Album released mit dem Namen "Based on a True Story" und es wird noch besser: in wenigen Tagen geht er damit auf Tour und kommt für einige Konzerte sogar nach Deutschland! Es gibt also viel zu besprechen – Warum macht er jetzt doch wieder Musik nach so langer Zeit? Was erwartet uns bei seinen Konzerten? Und welchen seiner Film-Charaktere würde er gern mit auf die Bühne nehmen? Die Antworten gibt's hier!

Bim bim bim … in Aktenzeichen 124 entführen wir euch in die tropischen Weiten Brasiliens und beleuchten das Leben eines Mannes, der wie kaum ein anderer zwischen Bewunderung, Skepsis und Angst stand. Schon als Kind mit unheimlichen Erlebnissen konfrontiert, entwickelte er Fähigkeiten, die sein Umfeld erschütterten und Wissenschaftler wie den Präsidenten des Landes auf den Plan riefen.Wir erzählen, wie er zum Mysterium wurde, warum er die Geisterwelt für manche sichtbar machte — und warum bis heute niemand eindeutig sagen kann, ob er ein Genie, Betrüger oder vielleicht beides war.

Es ist ein Bauwerk, das die Grenzen des Vorstellbaren sprengte - und das ohne moderne Technik: die Kuppel des Florentiner Doms. Ein Blick hinter eines der größten Bauprojekte der Renaissance und auf das Genie dahinter: Filippo Brunelleschi. Autorin: Susanne Hofmann

Never forget that there are cameras everywhere, and we mean everywhere!

Joe Shaskys former co-host and current host of A's Cast Chris Townsend joins The Roast to talk a little A's v Giants ahead of their weekend series.

ALLE INFOS ZU FLACONI:Deutschland: Einfach und entspannt Beauty und Parfum auf www.flaconi.de shoppen: Mit dem Code “ ANIMUS10” sparst du biszum 20.07.2025 10 % ab einem Mindestbestellwert von 59 €.Österreich: Einfach und entspannt Beauty und Parfum auf www.flaconi.at shoppen: Mit dem Code “ ANIMUS10” sparst du bis zum20.07.2025 10 % ab einem Mindestbestellwert von 59 €.Schweiz: Einfach und entspannt Beauty und Parfum auf www.flaconi.ch shoppen: Mit dem Code “ ANIMUS10” sparst du biszum 20.07.2025 10 % ab einem Mindestbestellwert von 59 CHF .*Der Raba gilt nicht auf ausgeschlossene Marken und Produkteund ist nicht mit anderen Aktionen kombinierbar.A u s g e s c h l o s s e n e M a r k e n & P r o d u k t e : C H A N E L , C l i v e C h r i s t i a n , C R E E D , D R .B A R B A R A S T U R M , E m i l É l i s e , E S S E N T I A L P A R F U M S , G r i  i , H I S T O I R E S d eP A R F U M S , I n i t i o , L a b o r a t o r i o O l f a  i v o , L E N F R A G R A N C E , L i q u i d e sI m a g i n a i r e s , L O R E N Z O V I L L O R E S I , M .M i c a l l e f , M a i s o n C r i v e l l i , M a i s o n T a h i t é ,M o r o c c a n o i l , P a n a D o r a , P a r f u m s d e M a r l y , P e r r o y , R o b e r t o U g o l i n i , S e n s a i ,S i m o n e A n d r e o l i , U n e N u i t N o m a d e , V C A N T O , W I D I A Den Podcast auf Youtube findest du hier:https://www.youtube.com/@animus_offiziellDen Podcast als Video ohne Werbung findest du auf Patreon:https://www.patreon.com/DerAnimusPodcastAlle Infos zu liebdich:https://liebdich-official.com/https://www.instagram.com/liebdich_official?igsh=MW1sdzZtbXczOXJ5Zw==Kooperationen/Anfragen: deranimuspodcast@gmail.com Animus auf SocialMedia:Instagramhttps://www.instagram.com/animus Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Der Sommer 2025 startet voll durch, heute, am 01. Juli! Und in Episode 441 von "XtraChill" präsentiert der liebe Andreas dazu eine feine Auswahl podsafer Electronica, die mal unterkühlt-erfrischend, mal anheizend-anregend daher kommt. Das bedeutet, dass für jeden Geschmack und jede Sommeraktion etwas passendes dabei ist. Genießt die schönen Tage und startet gut in die Feriensaison! Summer 2025 is kicking off in full swing today, on July 1st! And in episode 441 of "XtraChill," dear Andreas presents a fine selection of podsafe electronica, ranging from chilly and refreshing to energizing and stimulating. This means there's something for every taste and every summer activity. Enjoy the beautiful days and get the holiday season off to a good start!

The Problem: Another one of John’s classic hamburger choking parties. (Recorded on Monday, June 30, 2025.)

Happy Monday, Disney fans! Here is your Disney News for Monday, June 30th, 2025. - Disney to open a new park in South Korea by 2028, featuring unique attractions blending Disney magic with Korean culture. - Walt Disney World introduces a new Genie+ mobile app feature for personalized, real-time attraction suggestions. - Disney+ revives "The Muppets Show," bringing new skits and guest appearances to delight fans both old and new. - Tokyo Disneyland to host its first-ever Halloween fashion show, combining fashion and fantasy with chic, spooky costumes. Have a magical day and tune in again tomorrow for more updates.

Here they are again—marketers and communicators worried that AI is about to eliminate storytelling altogether. But what if the exact opposite is happening? What if AI is actually making authentic human storytelling the ultimate competitive advantage? In this episode of The Trending Communicator, host Dan Nestle reconnects with Park Howell, the brain behind the Business of Story and creator of the Story Cycle Genie—an AI tool designed to amplify human storytelling rather than replace it. While everyone's rushing to automate their content creation, Park and Dan explore why the brands winning in this fractured landscape are the ones doubling down on distinctly human narratives. They dig into the paradox we're all navigating—how do you leverage AI's efficiency without losing the gritty authenticity that makes your story worth telling? This isn't your typical "AI versus humans" conversation. It's about how communications professionals can use AI as their storytelling co-pilot while ensuring their brand narratives remain so authentically human that no algorithm could replicate them. Because in a world drowning in AI-generated content, being genuinely, unapologetically human might just be your secret weapon. Listen in and hear about... AI's impact on storytelling and brand communication The importance of human oversight in AI-generated content Leveraging AI tools like the Story Cycle Genie to enhance, not replace, human creativity Balancing technology adoption with authentic brand voice Speed-to-market advantages of AI-powered brand strategies Notable Quotes On the Power of Storytelling: "A story is about a man getting in a hole and a man getting out of a hole. It need not be a man. And it need not be about a hole. People love that story." - Park Howell [04:24 → 04:46] On Business Storytelling: "In business, the stories we need to tell are in solution to our customers problems. What are they going through, what are they experiencing, what do they want and why is it important to them?" - Park Howell [05:09 → 05:22] On AI-Generated Stories: "It wasn't even my eyes at first. It was a feeling. I first had this feeling inside of me like, this doesn't feel right. Then I used my senses, my eyes, in my ears to scrutinize it." - Park Howell [12:28 → 12:39] On the Importance of Brand Story: "Speed to market. I mean everything is accelerating around us and those that are dragging behind are going to lose out." - Park Howell [01:01:53 → 01:02:01] On AI in Storytelling: "Instead of taking three months to define and refine your brand story. You can now do it in minutes, literally, instead of, and, and by the way, saving the tens of thousands of dollars it typically takes for you to do that down to a few hundred bucks." - Park Howell [01:02:01 → 01:02:21] On the Value of Human Expertise: "The AI is only as good as the wisdom that lies behind it and the IP that lies behind it." - Dan Nestle [01:09:18 → 01:09:25] Resources and Links Dan Nestle Inquisitive Communications | Website The Trending Communicator | Website Communications Trends from Trending Communicators | Dan Nestle's Substack Dan Nestle | LinkedIn Dan Nestle | Twitter/X Park Howell The Story Cycle Genie | Website and AI Tool The Business of Story | Website Park Howell | LinkedIn Timestamps 0:00 Intro: AI for self-inspection and storytelling 5:33 Defining story: Man in a hole analogy 12:50 AI's impact on storytelling and human touch 20:55 Using AI to understand your brand story 28:56 The power of dialogue in authentic stories 38:39 Introducing the Story Cycle Genie tool 47:28 Analyzing Dan's brand story with the Genie 54:59 Iterating and improving brand messaging 1:01:53 Speed to market with AI-powered storytelling 1:07:52 Integrating Story Cycle Genie in enterprises 1:10:16 Closing thoughts and where to find Park (Notes co-created by Human Dan and  Flowsend.ai ) Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Kemal Üres ist bekannt als der „Gastro-Flüsterer“ und zählt zu den prominentesten Persönlichkeiten der deutschen Gastronomieszene. Er ist Gastronom, Unternehmer und Influencer und hat sich durch praxisnahe Tipps und seine leidenschaftliche Unterstützung der Branche einen Namen gemacht. Über Plattformen wie Instagram, TikTok und YouTube gewährt er Einblicke in den Gastronomiealltag. In diesem Podcast erfahrt ihr mehr über seine besondere Lebensgeschichte – geprägt von Rückschlägen und schmerzhaften Erkenntnissen. Aufgewachsen in einem sozialen Brennpunkt in Konstanz, hat er sich aus einfachen Verhältnissen hochgearbeitet: vom Tellerwäscher zum Hotelmanager, heute erfolgreicher Berater für Gastronomen und selbst Restaurantbesitzer. Kemal erzählt, warum er seine Komfortzone verlassen wollte, wie er sich aus einer Depression herausgekämpft hat und welche Fehler man im Umgang mit Social Media vermeiden sollte. Er war außerdem maßgeblich an der Durchsetzung des reduzierten Mehrwertsteuersatzes von 7% für die Gastronomie beteiligt. Wie anstrengend dieser Kampf war – das erfahrt ihr hier. Podcasttipp „Alles in Butter – für Genießer und Gernesser“: https://www.ardaudiothek.de/sendung/wdr-5-alles-in-butter/

We're excited to kick off a new show focusing on the real-world AI applications that product teams are using to become faster, more efficient, and smarter. Jeff has been traveling across the country meeting product leaders, and he keeps having the same conversation: every product person wants to know how their peers are using AI in their teams and their workflows. So we're bringing you those conversations about how your peers are using AI in their day-to-day to move faster and more efficiently than ever before. In our first episode, we're welcoming back Roman Gun, VP of Product at Zeta Global. In this episode, we talk about: The prompting and workflow orchestrations Roman created to automate writing PRDs, one of the most disliked tasks of product managers, and how he has made them into living, breathing documents that initiate collaboration The AI communities and platforms he uses, including Reddit and Discord, to stay ahead, learn new tricks, and gain early access to the best new tools And Magic...not actual magic, but we have a little fun with Roman's side-project centered around Magic: The Gathering, and how he built tools to prototype new decks and beat players with far more experience Links LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/romangun/ Zeta Global: https://zetaglobal.com/ Resources Real-world AI products with Roman Gun, VP of Product: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B7syxCetzHU Leader Spotlight: Right-sizing processes, with Roman Gun: https://blog.logrocket.com/product-management/leader-spotlight-roman-gun/ Inside Gemini 2.5 | Logan Kilpatrick | PodRocket: https://youtu.be/2LGKwf2xH7g Tools OpenAI: https://openai.com/ Gemini: https://gemini.google.com/ Claude: https://claude.ai/ Figma: https://www.figma.com/ Coda: https://coda.io/ Notebook LM Discorder: https://support.google.com/notebooklm/answer/16268096?hl=en&co=GENIE.Platform%3DDesktop Cursor: https://www.cursor.com/ Windsurf: https://windsurf.com/ Loveable: https://lovable.dev/ ChatGPT: https://chatgpt.com/ Chapters 00:25 AI in Action 01:27 Real-World AI Applications 02:41 Community and AI Learning 06:12 Automating PRDs with AI 11:51 Training AI for Better Outputs 14:48 Prototyping with AI Tools 16:03 Generating Baseline Code with AI Tools 16:17 The Power of Prototyping and User Feedback 16:36 Accelerating the Creative Process 18:18 Magic: The Gathering and AI Deck Building 19:28 Challenges and Innovations in AI Deck Building 21:35 Learning and Applying AI in Real Life 25:30 The Future of Junior Roles in Tech 30:21 Final Thoughts and Encouragement Follow LaunchPod on YouTube We have a new YouTube page (https://www.youtube.com/@LaunchPod.byLogRocket)! Watch full episodes of our interviews with PM leaders and subscribe! What does LogRocket do? LogRocket's Galileo AI watches user sessions for you and surfaces the technical and usability issues holding back your web and mobile apps. Understand where your users are struggling by trying it for free at LogRocket.com (https://logrocket.com/signup/?pdr). Special Guest: Roman Gun.

We salute the life of Brian Wilson with a Beach Boy Bracket Challenge that includes a shocking reveal of Emily's favorite Beach Boys song. Jimmy talks "Jean Genie" and its inspiration Ms. Cyrinda Foxe and the influence she had on David Bowie, The New York Dolls and Aerosmith.

Einst jagte er als jüngster Bundesanwalt der Schweiz Mafiosi, heute malt er monumentale Alpenpanoramen, die wie dreidimensionale Naturwunder erscheinen. Valentin Roschacher arbeitet mit meditativer Präzision: Bis zu zwölf Schichten trägt er mit einem Einhaarpinsel auf, 70 bis 80 Stunden pro Woche verbringt er in seinem Zürcher Atelier. Am Tag schafft er gut fünf Quadratzentimeter Fläche. Seine Lebensqualität sei heute deutlich höher, niemand mische sich mehr ein. Roschacher lebt von der Malerei: Seine Bilder erzielen beachtliche Preise auf dem Kunstmarkt. «Die Juristerei war immer meine mindere Fähigkeit», sagt der ehemalige Bundesanwalt, der stets wusste: «Sterben will ich als Kunstmaler.» Welche Musik Rochschacher beim Malen hört, warum die Malerei das grosse Drama seiner Familie ist und warum seine Arbeitsgwändli von Armani, Cerutti und Boss stammen, erzählt er Simon Leu in «Musik für einen Gast». Die Musiktitel: 1. Mezzoforte - Garden Party 2. Frédéric Chopin - Polonaise As-Dur op. 53 Maurizio Pollini, Klavier 3. Gustave Charpentier - Depuis le jour, aus der Oper «Louise» Anna Netrebko, Sopran; Prague Philharmonie; Emmanuel Villaume, Leitung 4. Michael Ball - Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, aus dem Musical «Les Misérables» 5. Sergei Rachmaninov - Variation 18, Rhapsodie über ein Thema von Paganini Andrei Gavrilov, Klavier; Philadelphia Orchestra; Riccardo Muti, Leitung

Mit 31 Jahren war Frédéric Chopin einer der gefeiertsten Pianisten Europas. Ein Star der Pariser Salons, den selbst schärfste Kritiker als Genie priesen. Dennoch gab Chopin nur selten und äußert ungern Konzerte vor großem Publikum. Seine Panik davor schien fast unüberwindlich. 1841jedoch machte er eine Ausnahme und trat nach sechs Jahren zum ersten Mal wieder in großem festlichen Rahmen vor Pariser Publikum auf. Unser ZOOM beschreibt ein kulturelles Ereignis, das im 19. Jahrhundert Geschichte schrieb.

Composting Tyranny into Nutrient for Democracy …… Caroline welcomes, encore, fellow Celtic Mytho Politico Animist, Sean Padraig O'Donoghue -together we  suck the “g” out of Kingdom, blow it everywhere, leaving “the Kindom of Heaven is at hand.” Prep for Friday the 13th magic, and June 14th No Kings Day, welcoming storms and the Haboob (giant dust storm Genie from Africa), weaving in June 14 2006!!!  “the day the police were driven out of Oaxaca”, inviting in spicy tricksters who outwit the devil… Art of changing the story, assuming cultural narrative lead     *Woof*Woof*Wanna*Play?!?* · www.CoyoteNetworkNews.com · The Visionary Activist Show on Patreon The post The Visionary Activist Show – Art of changing the story appeared first on KPFA.

MAKE WAAAAAYYY FOR PRINCE ROBIN!!! Robin at the height of his acting career hits another homerun as the titular Genie in Disney's 1992 animated classic, Aladdin. When the writers and producers were attempting to do some research on middle eastern culture, they decided going to the Saudi Arabian expo at the Los Angeles Convention Center was all that they needed. That all said, Robin's role as the genie is what will cement his voice and "stream-of-consciousness" mind into children and adults all across the world.