Podcast appearances and mentions of George Anderson

Promises To Keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. Note to readers: There is a bit of mangling of the Iliad going on. My apologies to Homer and the countless singers before him who carried the Iliad down through the dark centuries until the Greeks figured out how writing works. “Never judge a friend by what they give, but of how much of themselves they give.” (From the floor of Katrina's office) First thoughts,  I was on the floor where I had fallen, surrounded and being manhandled in the tenderest way. That was a romantic means of relating to my mummification. Those little Band-Aids that had been applied when I woke up from my coma had failed the 'Cáel is a Smeckle-head' test. All the crud they had pumped into my system and amperage they had channeled through my muscles was not the same as eating and exercise. Having a sexual romp with two ladies? My Goddess made plans for my body that my caloric bank account couldn't afford, thus me passing out. Unlike my time with Miyako and Estere, I had a feeling my two sofa-buddies were ovulating. Fatherhood was on the way. How my infant would survive the continuous poisonous assault on the augur's lymphatic system was beyond me. Her guardian, let's just say I dealt with sneaky bitches/Dot on a regular basis and leave it at that. "He is awake," Tadêfi alerted the room. "You must leave so I can deliver my message to him in the privacy he requested." "I am almost done," a different Amazon voice stated. She was the medico dealing with my wounds. By the aroma, she had slathered on two coats of the healing goo that was becoming as comfortable to my nostrils as my soap-on-a-rope. A few more rounds of adhesive tape and the exodus from the room began. I hadn't opened my eyes because I was unprepared for the looks of anger, disappointment and concern surely leveled my way. The door shut and my eyes opened. "The Conqueror, the Champion, the Friendless and the Foe have all escaped the Land of the Endless Black Sands and returned to the Sunlit Realm," Tadêfi whispered upon my lips. Huh? That was it? Seriously, four freaking titles without, And here came the rest, faces. Faces with eyes and eyes with a purpose. Names, not names I wanted to hear at the moment. Bad fucking news all around. It couldn't be something helpful like the identity of the next High Priestess, No, that would be good fucking news. Okay, time to turn this frown upside down. I could make this work for me. How, I wasn't sure. "Thank you," I responded to Tadêfi's plea of understanding. Outside of having impregnating sex with me, the Sex-Master, Timothy was going to Nerf-shoot me for that, she'd endured spiritual, mental and physical grief and torment to be with me here today. She waited, kneeling beside my head. "Kiss me," I requested. It was a moist act, full of compassion and understanding. I racked my mind for the names and their importance. "Who was Shammuramat?" "I don't know, but this helps, right?" Tadêfi expressed her need to make the reward for the sacrifices to make sense. Five dead sister-augurs. They had to find that son-of-a-bitch! "Tadêfi, we are back in the fight," I grinned. "You and your sisters have given the Host a mighty weapon in the upcoming struggle." I knew that to be true because I knew who and where the Conqueror was, I knew he wasn't ready to be revealed, his enemies were closing in and he was ignorant of that fact. I was going to have to rain on his parade to save his life. The five augurs hadn't died futilely. The Weave of Fate had shielded the man and it took the augers' fanatical devotion to cut the threads and expose the truth the Host needed most. The Champion, hell, I knew who he was. I chuckled. Tadêfi was confused. The Champion was coming to kill me, me and a bunch of other Amazons, because blood feuds tend to run both ways. The Foe. He was easy enough. Granddad. The Bastard just wouldn't stay dead. I had a clue to what was going on now. I wasn't sure how useful that knowledge would be. Still, knowledge is knowledge. That thing crawling around inside my brain? No help there. That left Shammuramat. That name was familiar. Even when I finally placed it, I didn't understand her role in things. Why her? "Krasimira," I called out. I struggled to sit up and with Tadêfi's help, I did so. The Keeper and two guardians entered as well. One, Sikia, hovered over her companion/augur. "What is the link between Shammuramat and the Host?" I inquired. I saw no recognition in the Keeper's eyes. "She was the first ever "independent" queen of a nation-state, Assyria." Krasimira sat on the sofa and retrieved her tablet from inside her robes. She began working with the electronic history of the Amazon race. "9th Century BCE," I added. Slowly others migrated back into the room. Buffy, Katrina (not good and not happy), Elsa (really not good) and Desiree. Pamela leaned against the door sill, neither in nor out. Katrina sat behind her desk. The phone came out and whispered conversations began in earnest. I had shoved us straight into a war which looked like a free for all at the moment. No one trusted anyone. No one could afford to. I had to change that. The only saving grace was that it appeared no Secret Society had planned for the Protocols to abruptly end a week and a half ago. "Ah, I found it," Krasimira spoke up. Because I'm me, it was at that moment I finally realized that someone had put me in my biking shorts in an effort to provide me a modicum of modesty, with the benefit of blood being smeared on the inside. "She abandoned the Host, she was put under a death sentence for killing her twin sister who was chosen to lead House Anat over her." "Anat?" I queried. "The other dead First House," Krasimira sighed. "They were renowned for their berserkers. Some would drape themselves in the entrails of their enemies in the midst of battle to increase their ferocious appearance." "Oh, how sweet, what was Ishara known for?" I was surprised I'd never asked. "Ishara were the emissaries of the Host," Krasimira informed me. With the Amazon practice of killing embassies sent their way, the extinction of my house made much more sense. "What does this mean?" Desiree took charge of matters since Katrina was still busy on the phone. In a few short weeks, Desiree's prestige had definitely increased. Katrina was her sister in more than name now. "Where to begin,  Fine, why don't we refer to the Mycenaeans by their proper Amazon name?" Everyone but Buffy was glancing about nervously. "You used the name, didn't you?" Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose, dreading the response. "Yes, " I answered. "Because no one warns him of shit," Pamela huffed. "You assume an Amazon education with no basis in reality. You act like he grew up with our fairy tales and phantasmal histories. Everyone in this room, but Buffy," she acknowledge my First, "knew he spoke our language and the accompanying risk. Still, no one warned him." "You didn't warn him," Desiree skewered Pamela with a glance. "Not my job, Buttons," Pamela chuckled. "I relish the rest of you being made to look like idiots too much to be useful to Cáel unless it really matters. So he invoked an ancient malediction. What is the worst that could happen?" "I'm going to make a huge deductive leap, am I the reason the Achaean hero Ajax and his boys are back from the dead and coming after us for some Ako-level vengeance?" I groaned. (That's the 47 Ronin for us Westerners) Silence. "That's not your fault, Sport," Pamela snorted. "Mano-man, was I a dumbass for doing nothing. I'll take the blame for that one ladies. Damn Cáel, you would have to pick the Unconquered One, wouldn't you?" "Who is this guy and why does he hate us?" Buffy interjected. Pause. "Our ancestors poisoned his wine so that, in his angry haze, he mistook his own men for his enemies and slaughtered them all, back during the Trojan War. Afterwards, he committed suicide in anguish over his crime, Death opened his eyes at the last, he saw our treachery and managed to curse us as he died," Krasimira informed the lot of us. "And my using that word brought him back? That sounds, weak," I grunted. "The word would not have been enough," Tadêfi comforted me. "There must have been some sort of rift in the curtain of Reality that allowed the others to slip through. I don't understand how, oh no," she gasped as the pieces came together. "I'm willing to believe that was the price of doing business," I petted Tadêfi's cheek. "Please enlighten us," Elsa grumbled. "I need to find the Earth  and  Sky ambassador and set up a new meeting. Using what Tadêfi has gifted me with and the sacrifice of her fellow augurs, I can secure an alliance for us if only I can make up for the whole stunt Troika played," I grinned. "Any ideas?" "We could call them," Pamela produced my phone. "Seems some lady named Hana Sulkanen has been trying for days to get in touch with you. She hunted down the owner of the necklace, they talked about your current physical state, courtesy of Odette, and the owner of the necklace has expressed a continued interest in meeting you, and only you. It would appear that they really don't trust the rest of our merry little band since your first disappearance." Hana, and here I had killed her step-brother, the one she despised. An unexpected benefit of civil discourse, my People's chance of survival had doubled. Pamela lobbed my phone and I caught it. "What of the other two?" Tadêfi pushed down on my euphoria. "Was the Foe dead as well?" A quick look at Pamela told me she knew the answer to that. "The Foe is complicated," I lied. "His return was an inevitability, so we count that as a draw. The Champion, bad news. Let's put Shammy in the 'maybe' column and the Conqueror is a win for our side." A Berserker Queen, fresh from the Underworld, who we were honor-bound to kill,  or the 'other lost heir to a dead House' that was going to make us cobble together some nonsense to bring her back into the fold. If I wasn't the male leader of a spiritually significant All-Girls social club/paramilitary outfit, I might have been daunted by my prospects of achieving the latter. "The thing going on inside your head?" Elsa asked. That explained her presence. My mental capacity was still suspect. Was I still me? Could I flip out with no warning? "It is still there. I still have no idea what happened to me, or what the results might be. This means I'm going into battle wounded and that's that," I stated. "Are you acting in the best interest of the Host," Elsa studied me. "I am not sure," I confessed after half a minute's introspection. "So many of you are fuck-nuts; I'm not sure what acting responsible is for this set," I added jokingly. "As it stand, you lack the authority to pass judgment on me, Elsa. I promise you that if I feel I'm losing control, I will turn myself in." "Saint Marie would feel better if you stayed here," Elsa insisted. "Is the SD declaring war on House Ishara?" Buffy rose to the challenge. "We (by that she meant my fellow Isharans) have discussed the matter and talked to our best neuroscientist. She cannot definitively tell us Cáel isn't Cáel, so there is no reason to constrain him." Whoa. In our best prospect's educated opinion I was not-not me. Legions of English teachers weren't going to like that. "I have the answer for that," Katrina spoke up. "I owe Cáel and I would pay that debt now. He expressed a desire to see my niece, Aya. Do you still wish that Cáel Ishara?" "More than ever, but the Council is meeting," I sighed. "Buffy is your (dead word spoken), your apprentice," Katrina suggested. "Appoint someone to stand with her." That was more than good advice. Buffy was a woman and, to those who knew of her, as fierce an Amazon as ever lived. That was what Katrina was telling me without telling me. "I choose Daphne Pile, if she will accept, to stand by Buffy's side," I announced. Buffy would need someone who was passionate for my cause and who spoke Old Kingdom Hittite. Buffy still didn't, and the chance of the Council speaking English on her behalf was non-existent. "That is Daphne of House Cotyttia," Pamela corrected me. Who Cotyttia was? I had no idea. I was stupid to think Daphne's actual Amazon surname was Pile. Daphne wasn't even around. Executive Services was functioning fine without me and that meant Daphne had a work queue. "The Thracian Goddess of Sex, Orgies, War and Slaughter," Krasimira gracefully filled in my ignorance. Another whoa, why wasn't she my matron goddess? Tadêfi hauled off and slapped me. The action seemed to take everyone, Tadêfi included, by surprise. "I don't know why I did that," Tadêfi wailed out in despair. I did. It didn't take telepathy to figure out what I had been thinking. To prove my point, Pamela laughed. I cupped Tadêfi's jaw. "Worry not," I cooed. "I had that coming, Dot Ishara," I dodged another one, "isn't happy with me right now." Recall, Tadêfi was hooked up to an old-fashioned party line with the Beyond. "Animaniacs," Pamela snorted. "I so love you. It is my deep and abiding pleasure to have you as my Grandson." "I'm not your grandson," I countered. "Well, I say you are. Now be quiet and accept the shame," Pamela's eyes danced with amusement. "That makes me, Daphne and Brielle incest," I pointed out. "Amazons don't have an incest taboo," Pamela retorted. Duh. They are all women, no chance of seven fingered, Cyclops babies. "Ah, women, misunderstanding and pain, Buffy, would you check out Quebec and see if I'm still wanted in that province for bestiality. It could be important later," I commanded. "Bestiality?" only one woman failed to mutter, sputter or exclaimed. "The complainant in question is not that pissed at you anymore," Katrina's rolodex mind kicked in. "I believe she expressed a desire to question you about some missing accoutrements though." My splitting headache meant I had to think about that, ah yes, her dress uniform. It was/had been Canada Day, thus her having an official function and thus me cheating with the girl from across the hall in the Mountie's bed. I'm an idiot alright and my ability to keep an eye on the clock needs improvement. My last image of her, frothing at the mouth (she was a tad more possessive than I had anticipated) as she screamed out insults in Quebecois French concerning my lineage, personality failings and the treasured parts of my anatomy. She punctuated various parts of that deranged episode by hurling articles of her clothing over the border at me as I turned (once I had good Ole US soil/pavement under my feet) and tried to get us back together. Yes, I had them, just not in my Box of Failed Romances. Acting on hopes of reconciliation, I had the uniform dry cleaned, placed in a dress bag, and the boots polished; both currently occupying space in my closet. At least the Alburgh-Noyan Crossing guards (it is a dual Canadian-American post) appreciated me evading/begging forgiveness long enough for them to see her in only her bra and panties. I imagine they didn't normally get much excitement there. "Katrina, " I began. "Yes, Maya forgives you too, though she scored an 'At Risk' for reliability. Anais sounded genuine," Katrina related. Anais was the Mountie. Maya was the Guyane Française university student from across the hall, the one I was caught cheating with. I had told her I was Anais's brother. Maya was also a super-exceptional cook. "Cáel Ishara, who are these women we are talking about?" Sikia demanded. 'We', that didn't take long. We were now a 'we', which in Amazon meant 'male, you're my property'. "I have a sideline job as an Amway distributor," I replied. "I give crappy customer service." "You give awesome customer service," Katrina riposted. "That's the problem." "Sikia, you are not the first Amazon Cáel has stuck his dick into. You are probably not the tenth," Elsa dripped with frustration. Quick count: Rhada, Buffy, Oneida and Gael, I was only going to count the penile-vaginal penetrations. "They are only numbers five and six, thank you very much," I defended myself. "So much for your 'intern, no sex' policy," Desiree muttered. "Cut me some slack, I work with stone-cold, Olympic level athlete foxes 24/7," I griped. "I am a sexual being too, I have needs." "What about the 'End of Internship' hunting shindig?" Desiree pulled a flawless 'Katrina'. "Oh, it is still on. With my 'do or die' learning curve, it is going to be so much more fun," I grinned. "And, okay, no more Amazon sex until then, sorry Rachel." "Except for house members," Buffy insisted. "No exceptions," Elsa demanded. "I'll keep an eye on him," Pamela resolved the issue. "No more Amazon boinking for him." She was such a liar. She was also a highly accomplished liar because everyone bought it. On with my life. Stage one: exit Katrina's office. Done deal, no problems. Stage two: set up meeting with the Earth  and  Sky. They wanted to meet on their ground. Since I was the uncertain factor in these negotiations, I agreed. I was bringing one, Pamela raised four fingers, four people with me. Who? Outside of Pamela, I had no idea. Stage three: going to medical and putting on my business suit, it was a new one and very, very nice. I was moving up into serious majestic magnate territory. I also picked up buddy number two, FBI Special Agent Virginia Maddox. Why had I chosen a federal agent to accompany me to a meeting between two secret societies? I hadn't a clue. Sometimes you have to roll with these things. In the lobby, I picked up number three, Delilah, Mom's MI-6 operative/baby-sitter. Compassionate, caring people were surrounding me all the time. It gave me this sensation of a 'down home' environment no matter where I went, if down home was Gaza, or Donetsk. I think my entourage/lifestyle observation teams had grown to encompass six cars. I was in no condition for riding my bike, so that recourse was denied me. Taxi? One, most were hard-working stiffs like my family who didn't deserve to be caught in a noontime, drive-by assassination attempt. Besides, with my luck I'd meet the guy from Qatar again, the one with the sister with cute eyes. That reminded me, I gave Nicole a call. "How are you doing?" she quickly inquired. "Good," I lied to a past master of shattering perjury. Pause. "I'm surrounded by girls with guns, tailed by your clients, some part of a Federal Task force and some people who I don't know yet. Hold on." I put my hand over my phone. "Delilah, are you packing heat?" I asked softly. She opened her jacket revealing paired revolvers in shoulder holsters. I didn't recognize them so the Brit gave me the 4-1-1. "Ruger Alaskans," she grinned. Bing! Now I recalled them. The girl who taught me to shoot once read some reviews of that beast on her laptop while I gave her a slow, passionate screw from behind. She became all hot and bothered, wiggling, squirming and generally having a grandiose time with my cock deep within. I repeat, this girl really loved guns, a huge cerebral G-spot for her. Oh yeah, the Ruger Alaskan is what you get if you are worried about Grizzly bears popping their heads through the tent flaps late at night. Delilah was probably packing 4 80's. Her guns would turn 250 kilograms of pissed off ursine into an excellent throw-rug in about two shots. In an urban environment,  well, maybe she thought the New York Giants were actually giants, or something like that. Two were overkill, unless you expected someone needing to borrow one. "Just checked. I remain the only one unarmed in my personal carnival of carnage, " my words trailed up to an unintelligible mumble. I was mumbling because suddenly four handguns were casually offered up for my use (Tiger Lily was holding one over her shoulder as she drove), in the same way you'd offer up some Nicorette to a man jonesing for a smoke. Rachel was kind enough to hand me my familiar Glock-22 and Ruger 38 caliber with their accompanying holsters. Two spare clips followed, then I stashed the lot. I scratched my calf. It took me a second to realize I was reaching for my pistol. No, not the one at my hip, or my ankle, but the one, in my boot? "Now that you've been handed firearms of dubious origin, can I get back to questioning you," the FBI agent intruded upon my ruminations. "We were discussing that list of people that are visiting a morgue instead of a court room. What can you tell me?" "Bye Nicole. Miss you. Being interrogated by a blonde FBI lady with a whips scar on her eyebrow and eyes that could scare a badger back into its hole. Later," I cut of my lawyer's fierce demand that I keep my mouth shut. "Nothing useful that wouldn't implicate myself and others in a criminal conspiracy," I answered her. "There is no way I'd name anyone else I suspect of involvement. I feel no guilt over what has happened, so no remorseful confession, and that is based on my belief that cosmic justice has been achieved." "You can't create lists of people for execution," Maddox persisted. "That negates the whole justice system and the principle of innocent until proven guilty." Wow! Except for the two of us, every other person in the car snorted their derision of Maddox's presumptive naiveté. "Do you even believe the tripe spilling from your pie-hole?" Delilah mocked Maddox. "I'm in law enforcement. That means I enforce the laws, not interpret them, or choose which ones I want to obey and which ones to ignore," Virginia fought back. "Love, that's crap and you know it. You are an agent of the US government. You bomb, drone-strike, overthrow lawfully elected governments and assassinate in your nation's best interests," Delilah countered. "You selectively enforce your Constitution when it suits you." "I'm law enforcement, not the military or foreign affairs. Know the difference," Maddox glared. "The pay master is the same,  you willingly collect your thirty pieces of silver; get off your high horse because you are in the shat now, Agent Maddox. I haven't known this crowd an hour and I know for a fact that you are the only US citizen onboard," Delilah chortled. "I don't know their bleeding nationality, but I doubt it is on the UN Charter." Maddox turned to me. "That was succinct and rather accurate," I murmured. "Special Agent Maddox, I have the sneaking suspicion that you are with us because FP (federal prosecutor) Castello feels you can handle this, Umm, unusual set of circumstance. I promise you this, it is going to get worse." "Why don't we test this quaint theory?" FBI Lass challenged us. "Jail, bail, and I'm waking up in Rio de Janeiro in two days," I sighed. "I have a few thousand in the bank, live in a hole and own my father's home, when it clears probate. Only you know I'm flight risk. A dozen people will vouch/lie about my character and that's that. All you've succeeding in doing is making enemies when you need friends." "There is still a matter of multiple people dead under suspicious circumstance," she said. "Imagine for a second that Cáel admits to creating a hit list," Pamela began. "He would never give up the names of the other people involved. He didn't kill anyone, or say 'kill them'. Now what? You still have an abysmal case to put before a judge. Add to that, the mitigating factor of a raped girl. You get to break her down until she's a cooperating witness because she's the only one who can provide you with Cáel's motive," my mentor continued. "Good for you and your team. She gets to betray the man who tried to save her. Cáel promised horrific retribution if any of those in the now-dead crowd hurt her. That is rather unlike him, he normally forgives when given the least excuse. I don't give a damn about women's rights, or the rights of rape victims. I really could give a shit about human rights for that matter. Wronging me is the surest way to early retirement. It is not a matter of strong versus weak, or right versus wrong. What matters to me is who I can trust. I don't know you, thus I don't trust you. I trust your government to be so much chicken shit. I base this on the lack of public torture and execution. I want the families of dying criminals paraded in front of those cock-suckers before the condemned finally perish in agony. I want to see thieves get their forearms hacked off, trial by combat, and respect for your elders. I want to see public officials being sacrificed upon the altar of Jehovah when they leave office. I want to see a system of justice with a soul, not law books thicker than an aircraft carrier's hull. A government 'of the People, by the People, for the People' should be the sole guiding force for your culture and we both know that's never going to happen. I admire your soldiers; not because they are brave and combat effective, they are. I admire them because they are fighting and dying for elected officials and a population that can't locate Afghanistan, or Iraq on a map, can't tell the difference between a Sikh and a Muslim, and thinks 'Pashtun' is an exotic piece of furniture. I admire them because they are better human beings despite you, not because of you," Pamela was coming to her crescendo. "Basically you people, by that I mean most of the human race, are dangerous in your idiocy, arrogance and pride in your ignorance. Not one of you should be allowed to use weapons, or play with fire. For you, unrestricted voting is a crime right up there with inventing, disease prevention, bilingualism and anything that perpetuates your educational system." "Lady, why are you so angry with the world?" Maddox studied Pamela intensely. I wished her luck with divining and then unwrapping that lady's mind. "I hold dear to my heart anyone's hunger to learn, honesty when it hurts and love no matter what the cost, so I find myself alone most of the time," Pamela grinned. "Above even those, I adore humor in the face of ridicule, condemnation and adversity. You can dodge bullets and parry knives. Humor always strikes home," she finished. "It is the perfect weapon." "Liar," I smiled. "You like high performance automobiles too." Did she? I didn't know. "Only with a 2X4 pressing the accelerator as it races toward the lip of a canyon," Pamela bantered back, "with Ursula K. Le Guin strapped in the back seat." "Who?" I inquired. "She's an author. I take exception to some of her work and unwillingness to appreciate the fusion of exceptional feminine characteristics with power positions," Pamela answered. "And your critique of her life's work is an exploding car at the bottom of a cliff?" I smiled. "Starting uncontrolled wildfires and littering, two of my favorite activities," she laughed. "I'll stick with blondes and brunettes, and red- and raven-haired, bald has its own appeal, green and purple have their own kink going on, " I joked. "Wait! We were talking about people being murdered and you two are cracking jokes?" Maddox rumbled. "I had a dream about tying them together with nylon cord and tossing them off the back ramp of a transport aircraft, and watching them fall, and fall," Rachel sighed dreamily. "Atta girl," I play-punched Rachel's shoulder. "What is your part in all of this?" Maddox turned to Rachel. "I'm the head of his bodyguard detail," Rachel gave her confession of the damned. "And you want to kill him, " Virginia struggled to keep up. "Given time, you will too," Rachel promised. "According to his pre-employment records, only one woman he's had a sexual relationship with hasn't wanted to at least hurt him," glaring at me, "badly." "The nun doesn't want me dead!" I vocally protested. "It is so wrong that you are proud that of over 200 women you've slept with, TWO have not, at some point in knowing you, wanted to maul you and one of those is in the 'forgiving' business," Rachel chastised me. Virginia had an answer for my madness. Her phone came out and she hit speed-dial, work. "Ms. Castello, this is Special Agent Maddox, do you have a moment?" Virginia calmly asked when she finally wrangled my current-favorite fed's attention. "You do now? Thank you. I'd like to know what the fuck have you done to me? This assignment is nuts. Either I'm part of some elaborate prank, or I'm in an S U V with escapees from the looney bin." Ten seconds later Maddox gave me the phone. "Stop it. I've upheld my end of the bargain, so behave," Javiera ordered. Man, she'd shot me straight to the core and we hadn't even slept together yet. Clever, clever girl. "Yes Ma'am," I swore. "I'll do my best to buffer Special Agent Maddox from the truth." "I'll have to accept that," Javiera conceded. "Give Maddox the phone back." A brief conversation later and Maddox was no better off than when she started. Thankfully we parked in front of the Kazakhstan Consulate in New York, giving us all an excuse to face facts. Maddox was feeling compelled to ask questions she didn't want the answers to, and that we didn't want to answer. Saved by work. "Kazakhstan Consulate? Why are we here?" both Virginia and Rachel asked. "Oh! This is going to be good," Pamela leaned forward excitedly. "Change the course of human history," I answered with a great deal of confidence I didn't feel. See, I had knowledge critical to the Earth  and  Sky. That knowledge was also something they wanted kept compartmentalized, so they might take exception to it being possessed by an outsider. Oh,  so that's why Pamela earlier insisted on four ladies being with me, so we could shoot our way out if things turned ugly. I hugged my mentor. "Thank you, Pamela." "You are coming along nicely, Mr. Potter," Pamela patted my cheek. "Your praise leaves me suspicious, Professor Snape. Besides, if I'm going to die, it helps me to know you'll go first ." "That was uncalled for," Pamela chided me. It was the 'Snape' role she rejected. "Snape gave up his life for Harry, Dumbledore died for Draco," I countered. "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Pamela shone with joy and pride. "You act like I have a choice," I sighed. "Touché," Pamela nodded. "I see what you mean about these two," Maddox addressed Rachel. "Oh my God," Delilah laughed. "You wove Harry Potter into a life and death conversation and it made sense. I am probably going to die, but I'll die knowing I have lived." "Not you too?" Maddox glared at Delilah. Rachel just shook her head. We exited the car, settled ourselves out. Rachel took point, Delilah took one flank while Pamela took the other. By happenstance, I ended up in the middle, yeah right, with Virginia covering my back. "You stay here," Pamela put a hand on Rachel's shoulder. "You'll need to lead the team in if someone 'pumps up the volume'." Interesting euphemism for 'when people start killing people'. "What are we doing today?" Miyako 'appeared'. She'd been walking down the sidewalk toward us, the Kazak Consulate was a townhouse, but her presence hadn't registered. "I require your pledge of silence on what is to transpire. No death is intended," I stated calmly to Miyako. "I didn't know you were versed in ninja contracts, much less spoke Japanese?" Miyako responded. Blink. "I didn't know I spoke it either, " I mumbled. "No sweat," Pamela tried to hustle us along. "He's a quick study." Yeah. I didn't feel it apropos to point out I hadn't heard myself speaking Japanese, or understood that my words had some secret meaning. "How important is this to my people?" Miyako asked. Now that I was paying attention to it, I could make out that she was speaking in her native tongue. "If they don't think we can be trusted to not speak of what is to transpire for a week, they are going to kill us," I related my suspicions. "My mind and heart are joined in this decision." "I give you my pledge," Miyako nodded. She looped her arm in mine. "Does anyone care to enlighten me?" Maddox prodded. Whoa. It seemed that, beside me and Miyako, only Pamela spoke Japanese. "Special Agent Maddox, no matter what, don't give up your gun, when we say run, run, and shoot to kill because they will be trying to kill us," I informed her. "Does the term 'extraterritoriality' mean anything to anyone here?" Maddox snapped. Her nervousness was totally understandable. I stopped at the top of the steps, looking over my shoulder. I nodded. Pamela, Delilah and Miyako nodded as well. "Hold on, I can't believe I'm saying this. Does anyone have a back-up I can use?" Maddox groaned. Rachel quick-stepped forward and handed over a 22 automatic pistol then a spare clip with a smooth, practiced motion that suggested that SD swapped weapons all the time. Maddox didn't miss the casualness of the gesture. The firearm and magazine disappeared. "Fine, we will never discuss the laws we just butchered, ever, and if I die and any of you make it out alive, I will seek revenge at whatever cost FROM WHEREVER I AM," FBI girl growled. "One of us," Pamela smirked at me as I touched the doorbell. It opened promptly. We weren't on a crowded street, we were on their stoop and a security camera was pointed right at us. We were invited in and two rather Caucasian-looking gentlemen (Kazaks are a mixed bag of Turks and Cumans) were waiting with the doorman. They looked tough in that they took personality lessons from saddle leather. "You will place your weapons there," the more charismatic of the two spoke up. He was pointing to a side table that looked large enough for the task. "No," was the most courteous response I could muster. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look much like he was breathing, or blinking either. "Go," he pointed to the door. I looked to Pamela. "Well, that didn't take long," I grinned. I felt out the necklace under my shirt and pulled it over my head. "Please return this to its owner in the spirit it was given." He took it. The doorman opened the door and out we went. Rachel was back in our GL550, using the door as possible cover. She said we could take our seats and away we rolled. Maddox looked apoplectic. She had prepared herself for the Wild, Wild West, not a doe-see-doe at the door. In her mind, I had wound her up for nothing. My phone rang. "Cáel Ishara, there seems to have been a diplomatic miscommunication," a male native Turkish-speaker said in heavily accented English. "The person you are meeting must be approached in the spirit of peace." "No, I understood you perfectly," I assured him. "We aren't the Brownies, or the Girl Scouts, Buddy. I don't know, or trust you and you don't know, or trust me, yet. I will compromise though. I will respect your traditions. I will enter your home unarmed. In turn, everyone in the building will line up outside on the street except for the person I'm supposed to meet. Is that acceptable?" Pause. "Do you hate these people, or like them?" Maddox grumbled. "With you, I can't quite tell." "That would not be acceptable," the man finally responded. "Perhaps an alternative. You come in, alone yet armed." "Nope. Due to the efforts of people far smarter than me, I know pretty much who I am meeting, so I am either very rude, insane, or bear a message that is worth my life," I countered. "Your personal safety is guaranteed," was the counter-offer. "That is a false promise, not because you lack honor, or respect for me, but because you are from a wise and noble lineage with a historical propensity of cutting to the heart of any problem." By that, I meant they'd cut my heart out. "What I expect is for every one of you to hold the future of the Earth  and  Sky above any such concepts as personal promises, hospitality, and honor. I am even putting my faith in your willingness to put the survival of the Earth  and  Sky over your own well-being," I riposted. "If the message is so crucial, you should be willing to come alone," back at me. "It isn't important to me," I stated. "Listen, a war is about to break out. Unless we both want to be found all alone in the outhouse masturbating when the headsman comes, one of us has to blink. Today, it is you. Tomorrow you may be able to return the favor and mess with my head." Pause. "Your koumiss is getting warm." "We'll be right there. We apologize for the delay. Traffic is murder these days, or a close facsimile thereof," I gave a little back in the humility department. "Tiger Lily, " "On it, Ishara, Wakko Ishara. I've been circling the block," Tiger Lily had anticipated my antics. Sure, I acted like I had no game plan, but I never wasted people's time. Maybe if I developed an actual game plan I could do even better. "Wakko Ishara?" it was Delilah's and Maddox's turn to share a 'what the?' moment. "May I explain the sacred names?" Rachel requested of me. "I have a feeling these two might become a fixture." "By all means, Rachel. Our trust runs deep," I trusted Rachel with more than my life; I trusted her with my future. "Wakko, as in you're the nutty one?" Delilah made a stab at our arcane nomenclature. If you use small words does that make it gnomenclature? Pamela winked at me, psychic twin grandmother powers activate! "We need complementary rings," Pamela remarked. Sweet! "Cáel Ishara is differentiated as Wakko Ishara, Ishara, first of House Ishara, is Yakko Ishara, and, " Rachel began. "The Animaniacs? Your code names are the Warner Brothers and their sister Dot?" Maddox gasped. "You are beyond nuts." "And the Goddess Ishara is named, by House Ishara and House Ishara alone," Rachel made some warding appeal against divine punishment, "as Dot Ishara." Maddox's face shown with disbelief. "Following Cáel Ishara into battle has been one of my greatest pleasures," Rachel stared at Maddox. "I never knew insanity could be so liberating, or that laughing at death could be such an aphrodisiac." "When did you two go into battle?" Delilah wondered. "In a morgue, fighting to retrieve the body of his fallen father so that our enemies could not desecrate it," Rachel explained. Ah, the walls of Troy, fighting over the spoils of the dead. "You mean when I face-planted?" I grinned at Rachel. "Even without a weapon, your instincts were good, forcing our enemy to commit to multiple angles of coverage even though your efforts were foiled by a footing failure. Your rushing their leader was even more heroic in that you were unarmed and using your body as a decoy, knowing your enemy's superior skill would stop him from shooting you," Rachel smiled my way, sex. "Let me get this straight," Miyako finally spoke up. "You charged an enemy unarmed then stumbled and failed. They were armed?" "Yes, with a 3 57 Magnum revolver and a 10 gauge sawed-off automatic shotgun, in tight confines and close range, oh, and no cover." Maddox replied, then to me, "I read the report." "Then you repeated the action a few minutes," Miyako. "Less than a minute later," Maddox clarified. "A minute later, wow! You are as fearless as we've heard. Please don't die before we have a baby," Miyako gave me a quick hug. If you cover a zeppelin with uranium paint, can it still fly, or does it sink to the center of the Earth? Ninja babies, We had returned to the stairs at the Consulate. This time the door swung open upon our approach. "Is there some drug you are all taking to bask in this shared fantasy life?" Maddox mumbled. "One of us," Pamela retorted. "One of us." "One of us," I joined in. It helped cut the tension. The bodyguards were present right where we'd them last time. They ushered us up the stairs to a second floor sitting room that ate up half the floor. There were two men there; radiating that subtle assurance that a half-dozen killers were close by. The man standing was Iskender, the E and S emissary from Dad's funeral. I broke all decorum, strode to the man, locked arms, hugged him tight and patted him on the back. "Thank the spirits you are here," I whispered, "all this lack of dick is making me a bit stir-crazy." "Ah, yes, it is good to see you again too," Iskender imparted as we broke our embrace. His boss, the guy on the sofa, shot me and my Kyrgyz buddy a sharp look. The Main Man was clearly Mongolian and must have thought blank, white walls exhibited too much empathy. "Koumiss," the boss offered. I sipped it from a simple, yet regal drinking mug that probably hit the kiln 200 years ago. "Mare, or yak?" I inquired as I handed the cup around. Iskender came first, but it was clearly my intention that we all partake. It was more a matter of the host's pledge of sanctuary than me wanting to share the koumiss. It tasted like thin, lightly chilled, bitter beer with a vanilla-almond milk shake-chaser. "Mare, of course. Please sit," he offered. He defined the suggestion by slipping off the sofa onto the layered carpet rug. He was semi-reclined, so we followed suit. "We should pray for the protection of the spirits," was the suggestion that wasn't a suggestion. It was his itinerary. He clapped his hands and from beyond a curtained partition came this really sensual Mongolian chick carrying a large brass bowl. She flicked her eyes at me and an instant connection was formed. She liked to bark like a dog under the full moon, okay, I'm not sure where that came from. "Nice woman," I told the leader. "She looks like she has seen many winters." Whoa! Where the fuck did that come from? I got a shocked reaction from Iskender. The Leader looked pissed, if a flake of paint on the white wall indicated anger. The girl blushed like what I said was an incredible turn on. "She is my daughter," the Leader pointed out. Way past swallowing my foot. My ankle was tasty. "My name is Oyuun Tömörbaatar. My faithful Iskender, you know. This is my daughter T. Sarangerel. She is studying at N Y U and is not entertaining marriage proposals at this time," he slapped down his boundaries. Somehow 'I only want to sleep with her' didn't sound like the right response. Wait! Saying his 'daughter had many winters' was a marriage bargaining opening move. What the fuck! "What I meant was that surely many men have died trying to come before you," I back-pedaled. More happy looks from the daughter. More paint peeling from the dad. Pamela made sure more koumiss was going around. Getting drunk could hardly hurt at this juncture. Sarangeral placed the bowl between us. It was filled with clear, cold water undoubtedly collected from a mountain-fed glacier. "Let us cleanse our hands in the water so that we may speak with clarity," O. Tömörbaatar said. We dipped our fingers and, for a second, I saw him. Not 'O', but HIM. "It is good to finally meet you Ferko Ishara Cáel Nyilas," the man said. My Spidey senses told me he was feeling less 'good' about this meeting every second. "How can your people and mine better get along?" 'Let me impregnate your daughter', would probably get my skull split open. "No time for that," I replied. "I know where HE is. The Seven Pillars have found a way to search the Weave and are closing in. You must act with haste." Whether it was disbelief, or old schooled Ku Chun in the art of gambling, the older man gave no outward reaction. "Where is he?" O. Tömörbaatar asked in a gentle tone. "I can do you one better," I steeled myself for the unknown forces I was invoking. I put my hands on the bowl's lip and looked in. Several seconds later, he did as well. For a moment, nothing. It was like a ripple in reverse. The first earth tremor I barely noticed. The ripples grew and grew until I felt the whole row of townhouses would come crashing down. Wind snapped the locks on the windows, flinging them wide open and tearing at the curtains like streamers in a hurricane. Then we saw HIM clearly. HE stopped driving this old, beat-up Peugeot and was pulling to the side of a desolate stretch of highway. HE could sense something yet couldn't pinpoint the source of his unease. We definitely got the impression this wasn't his first taste of this experience, the Seven Pillars. He was young, maybe my age. He looked like an educated man turned vagabond/boundless traveler. HIS eyes, his eyes had a depth that were a microcosm of what I'd glimpsed in Ishara, Dot Ishara's unshielded glance when we first met. All lingering doubts vanished in my mind. "I know that place," O T muttered, his eyes fixated on the only feature in the vacant expanse, a road sign, in Chinese. Yikes. "I know that place." The image faded. Our meeting venue was intact. Whatever I felt transpire, I had shared with O. Tömörbaatar alone. "You have work to do," I stated as I cleared my throat. "I will leave you to it." I stood. "What do you wish for this gift?" O T reached out and touched my sleeve. "When the time comes, maybe you can help us," I replied. "A man who asks for nothing can expect anything," O T smiled for the first time. "Go." I did not take a fear-free breath until the cars started up and we pulled away. He'd let us live. Even with that priceless piece of magical insight, he'd let us live. "I'm still stunned we got out alive," I sighed. "I wasn't really sure he'd take the news as well as he did." No one said anything for a minute. "Why would he have killed us?" Delilah inquired. "You, I understand. I don't know what you communicated to that young lady, but the old guy wasn't happy about it. He was going to kill us over that?" Pause. "What did the rest of you see and hear?" I looked around the cabin. Pamela appeared worried. "I didn't know you spoke Chagatai," Miyako smiled at me. "You are full of surprise. I only caught a word, or two, and none of it made sense." "MRI," I groaned. "Magnetoencephalography," Pamela said in the same breath. "Mine is better, Boyo." "What is going on?" Rachel upped her alertness level. "We need to take Cáel to a hospital that has a Magnetoencephalography device," Pamela insisted. "He's spontaneously speaking languages he didn't know moments earlier, " Maddox put things together first. The rest nodded at her assessment. "We'll need to have his records from Havenstone sent over as a baseline." Poor Virginia, the absurdity of my life was sucking her in. "I'll call Katrina," Rachel informed us. I was a mental case once more. At least my input was still being solicited. "How many guns do you have on you?" Pamela zinged me. The answer was obvious, two. My Glock and my back-up. That didn't seem right. "Ah, two?" I responded. "Yeah, something is happening to your muscle memory as well," Pamela shook her head. "What exactly does that mean, and what's wrong with Cáel's brain?" Delilah studied the group. "It means he could spontaneously pull out his gun and start shooting us?" Pamela confessed her uncertainty. "I don't know. We'd better figure out which impulses are his guiding light right now before that happens." "I don't even know how to begin reporting this," Maddox muttered. "Cheer up. Our Cáel is still currently in charge. Did you appreciate how he lured in that young Mongolian girl? That's classic Cáel," Pamela comforted the crowd. I was saved from a straightjacket because I was a 'Playa'. (Meadowlands Medical Center in far off New Jersey) I'm not political. For me, that means I am completely and utterly dedicated to whatever doctrine that the cutest political campaigner in front of me endorses. Fifteen minutes on the internet and you can fake it like a pro. Be careful to be with the winning team when the results come in. Nothing makes a political chick go wild like sneaking into the candidate's office and screwing her on the newly elected/re-elected figure's desk. Let her scream out her idol's name. Odds are neither of you will be welcomed back afterwards anyway. Why politics now? Javiera called some people. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone I knew and trusted got in touch with my 'Aunts' as well. All I knew for sure was the Hospital's Administrator's phone began ringing off the hook and I'd become the hospital's number one priority. The hospital staff was visibly irritated with the clout raining down on their heads for about an hour. Once they digested my Havenstone records, all of that changed. Holy 'Published in The New England Journal of Medicine', someone had drilled a micro-surgical hole in my skull in the middle of a wrestling match with no resulting cerebral scarring. THEN this unknown device shot into my skull with pinpoint accuracy and pumped a ghastly amount of energy into my cerebrum. They were fascinated. They were so fascinated I heard two medical technicians mutter about where the Zombie Survival Guide could be found. They triple checked my vital signs, again. I was still as much alive as when I checked myself in. There was a rumor that a fire ax disappeared from a stairwell close by, but not one confessed to the deed. I was speaking in languages I had no reason to know? They were surprised I could contain my mouth drool. It was somewhat disheartening to hear three seasoned physicians discuss what probable scenarios could explain me still being in a non-vegetative state,  or alive for that matter. Some poor nurse had to ask. "Do you feel an unnatural, interest in human brains?" she whispered when she though no one was close by. "I'm not sure what you mean," I whispered back. "I always respect a woman's intelligence. Sex is a cerebral passion. What's the point if you can't communicate with your partner?" Pamela slapped me upside my head. That disturbed just about everybody else in the vicinity and my mentor was promptly exiled from the room. I was curious about what havoc she was perpetrating on this establishment. My condition had gotten her past all the heavy security and I knew without seeing that someone high ranking had misplaced their ID badge. Maybe Pamela was the love-child of Batman and Cat woman. Before you think that's comic fanboy talk, recall what my life was like at that moment. Tests ensued. The staff decided that Havenstone employed a bunch of quacks and snake charmers. Two hours later, they found out they were wrong. Larger battery of tests, same results. I was the second coming of Christ, back from the dead, or a zombie living in a convincing state of denial. Some folks wouldn't let that go. Pamela had proved to be prophetic. Her pet gizmo finally provided a new picture of what my neural pathways were up to. If there is any doubt, 'I've never seen that before' is not what you want to hear one of North America's experts in the field of neuroscience say. The first educated opinion was that I suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that meant I was hit in the head a lot. Normally that diagnosis comes in the midst of an autopsy. I was having paralytic seizures. They had me juggle a squeeze-ball, then two and finally three. My perfect performance frustrated them. Women find relatively simple carnival tricks to be seductive. Pluck a card from a girl's bra gets you both to some dark corner, hungrily looking for the rest of the deck, I speak from experience. Next up at bat: 'I was possessed', I shit you not. Holistic medicine was right on board with the team. Was I influenced by a supernatural power? Yes I was. So claimed the majority of people on Earth. Did I receive specific instructions? Yes, and so did practitioners of Voodoo/Vodun on three continents. I added that I attempted to evade said instructions when I could. Did I have 'evil' impulses to hurt myself, or others? Huh? For starters, my matron goddess was more of a 'fucker' than a 'fighter' and her instructions were always suitably vague, the same way a Philosophy professor would give you a ten word pointless sentence on Friday and expect you to have a 250 page doctrine on Monday morning. That hit home. Too many normally smart people take a philosophy class in college hoping for an easy-A. Some teachers love dissolving those delusion, sitting back and watching your hopes and dreams of task-free weekends go down the drain. The more obscure the discipline, the more perverse the desire. That is why you always pick a teacher of the opposite gender (if in doubt, use a gay/lesbian test) and keep 'sex for grades' on the menu. Was I suffering from optical illusions, or phantom noises? Straight to the point, yes, I saw and talked with ghosts. So did the Long Island Medium, the casts of Ghost Hunters, Paranormal Witness plus George Anderson and Chip Coffey. To my credit, I didn't do it for profit, or in order to influence people. Was I seeing ghosts now? I was in hospital, so odds weren't bad. I had every non-ghost raise their left hand. No ghosts. Was my paranormal dementia pre- or post-brain trauma? Did seeing a college student being called before his class and successfully accused of plagiarism on his senior thesis, turning him into one of the Restless Dead count? No? My 'disputed' abilities were all post-college employment, thank you very much. Did the ghosts possess me/tell me to do things? I was not possessed and, discounting sexual bondage and my current work venue, had never been possessed. From my limited exposure, ghosts wanted to not be alone in the afterlife, to be guided to a final resting place with others of their kind/family/friends. None had taught me languages, asked me to steal something, or kill anyone. Had any done so, I would have denied them. Such actions were immoral and I could still freely differentiate between right and wrong. I preferred to commit wrong on my own initiative and making me do good was a chore most sane people abandoned after a few days. I took a Rorschach test. The results were predictable because I had taken old 'R' several times before. Just like every other time, I'd mixed up sexual innuendo with a psychological test to seduce the test-giver,  everything reminded me of intercourse. I changed it up with this girl. I gave her numbers. Sometime after I was long gone, they were going to figure out the ink blots were numbered after whichever erotic positions from the Kama Sutra I was reminded of at the time. I knew that wasn't being helpful and I was certain I wasn't a brain specialist. I also knew Rorschach wasn't the key to solving my woes. Final remaining hypothesis, I was utilizing 30 % of my brain capacity with three independent patterns emerging, not the usual 5 %. For that to work, my brain had to be oozing out my ears because brains generate a terrific amount of heat. My temperature was a steady 37.3 C (99 F) and my ear channels were free of obstruction. Hey man, cleaning your ears is quick and easy. Don't risk turning off a date with misfortunately located ear-hair and wax. How was my brain shedding the heat? Their solution, let's do a Spinal Tap. No way. I'd seen that band and they were all extremely fucked up, even for old guys. I wasn't going down that road. They insisted. I suggested that I consent to the procedure with the condition that I received no pain killers/sedatives of any kind and I got to grab and hold onto the testicles of my two, current, least favorite doctors. When they realized I was deadly serious and immovable on the issue, they came up with a new plan, no Spinal Tap. Gutless sissies. Into this vacuum of information, a brainstorm emerged (besides my inexplicable one). They would talk to me, no more interrogations, an actual verbal exchange. They couldn't come over and start flapping their gums like some punk rock band with no talent. They were suddenly worried about 'concerning' me and 'agitating my unstable state'. I pray to Goddess Ishara that one day soon they play back the tapes of their early hours working on me and pay close attention to my facial expressions of shock, horror, fear and depression as they clearly and openly talked about me as if I was the Fiji Mermaid. But hey, a few of them were kinda cute, so in the final analysis all that emotional trauma worked its way out. Hospital highlights: (Understand, I was lying on a table while various specialists prodded and talked about me as if I wasn't there. To strike back at reality, I throbbed my penis every time this cute Parasitologist looked at it. Finally ) Female Chief of Neurosurgery: "Did anyone think to study changes in is body's nervous system?" (Guilty looks all around) Neuro Surgeon: "What are all these needle marks?" Havenstone Medico, "Those are muscle stimuli insertion sites. They kept his musculature from atrophying while he was in a coma." Neuro Surgeon: "Let me get this straight. This man had a lightning bolt go off in his head and part of your healthcare regimen was to run a constant current of electricity throughout the rest of his body." (Scathing looks at the Medico from everyone else, jackals) HM: "He has retained excellent muscle tone." Neuro Surgeon: "Have you even taken the Hippocratic Oath?" HM: (offended) "Of course not, he's Greek." Neuro Surgeon: "What does my patient being Greek have to do with anything?" HM: "Not him (pointing at me). Hippocrates, he was a Greek. Cáel is Magyar/Irish Gaelic." Neuro Surgeon: "Helpful, that's not. He seems to have a great deal of bruises and scarring, some of it certainly received over an extensive period of time. Is this your work?" HM: (in a positive note) "No. It has not been my pleasure to spar with Cáel yet." Neuro Surgeon: "Isn't he a bit, big for you?" &

George Anderson is the owner of Yellowstone Angler in Livingston, Montana, a fly shop he founded in 1979. His fly-fishing journey began in the Catskill Mountains of New York and was further honed in the Rocky Mountain West while attending the University of Colorado and working summers at a fly shop in West Yellowstone. After earning his business degree, George and his wife moved to Livingston, where he spent six years as assistant manager at Dan Bailey's before opening his own shop. In 1985, the current Yellowstone Angler location was built, just south of Livingston on Highway 89. Throughout his career, George has written for prominent fly-fishing publications, including Fly Fisherman, Trout, Big Sky Journal, and Saltwater Fly Fishing. He is also known for his success in competitive fly fishing, winning top honors at the Jackson Hole One-Fly in 1989 and 1990, setting records for the number of trout caught using his signature George's Rubber Legged Brown Stone nymph. George has appeared as a guest angler on numerous television shows, including Fly Fishing the World with John Barrett and Spanish Fly with Jose Wejebe, and he has filmed several ESPN segments with Trevor Gowdy in Cuba's Jardines de la Reina, targeting bonefish, tarpon, and permit. A passionate saltwater fly fisher, George leads annual trips to Caribbean destinations and hosts trout fishing excursions to Alaska, Argentina, and other world-class locations. When not on the water, he enjoys golf, alpine skiing, scuba diving, bird hunting, and cycling.

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

====================================================SUSCRIBETEhttps://www.youtube.com/channel/UCNpffyr-7_zP1x1lS89ByaQ?sub_confirmation=1=======================================================================VIRTUOSADevoción Matutina Para Mujeres 2024Narrado por: Sirley DelgadilloDesde: Bucaramanga, Colombia===================|| www.drministries.org ||===================15 DE SEPTIEMBREHAZAÑAS DE VERDAD - 3A PARTE«No nos cansemos, pues, de hacer el bien» (Gál. 6:9).A veces creemos que la gente no valora las hazañas de las cuales nos habla la Biblia; hazañas como andar la segunda milla, poner la otra mejilla, dar el primer lugar al prójimo o saber sufrir burlas y persecuciones. Pero sí las valoran.Cuenta el psicoterapeuta George Anderson, que una vez estaba esperando turno para que lo atendieran en un banco, y estaba de segundo en la fila. Había detrás de él veinte personas cuando, de pronto, entró una mujer y empezó a hacer escándalo: «Esto es una tomadura de pelo, solo tienen dos cajeros atendiendo, me dijeron que esta hora era la mejor para venir, pero está claro que aquí ninguna hora es buena, voy a perder mi tiempo miserablemente en este lugar...». Anderson se acercó a ella, hablaron brevemente, y finalmente le dijo: «No se preocupe, señora, que yo le cambio de lugar, no tengo apuro». Y condujo a la nerviosa desconocida al puesto que él había ocupado en la fila: el segundo. Él, por su parte, se fue al final. Y se quedó esperando, caminando la segunda milla. Ella fue atendida muy rápido, y para entonces, ya su estrés se había calmado.Cuando llegó el turno de que él fuera atendido, el cajero le dijo:-¿Es usted el que le cedió el turno a la mujer alterada?-Sí -respondió Anderson.-El director quiere verlo.Una vez en la oficina del director, este le dijo:-Me contaron lo que usted hizo, y a partir de ahora, ni usted ni su familia tendrán que hacer fila en este banco. Ustedes son ahora clientes vip.No pasan desapercibidos los actos de bondad, las verdaderas hazañas, porque el mundo necesita héroes cotidianos, gente ordinaria que ame de manera extraordinaria. Los necesita el mundo, y los necesita la iglesia. Y podemos ser nosotras ese tipo de héroes, si tenemos claro cómo se llega a ser un héroe de este tipo.Gálatas 6: 9 dice: «No nos cansemos, pues, de hacer el bien». No nos cansemos de hacer «buenas acciones», retomando el sentido original de la palabra «hazaña». Nos cansamos porque recurrimos a nuestros mecanismos deficientes de inteligencia emocional. Si me hacen mal, yo hago mal. Pero la hazaña de la cual nos habla la Biblia es la de no cansarnos de entregar nuestra voluntad a Dios, para que sea él quien obre en nosotros tanto el querer como el hacer. Y él nunca se cansa.Tomadas de la mano de Dios, realizaremos hazañas que le darán honra y gloria y que mostrarán a una sociedad desencantada en qué consiste el verdadero amor.«Te hablo de la gente corriente. Los héroes están ahí mismo, antes y ahora, aquí y en el ancho mundo». Kirmen Uribe. 

In January 2015, Margaret and Angus Mackenzie's son Neil died in a climbing accident in Canada. Neil loved the outdoors, and to continue his memory, the couple set up a trust in his name to provide funding for those wanting to access outdoor pursuits. This year they're undertaking a bit of a walking challenge as Mark found out when he went to meet them.Across the country, a growing number of citizen scientists are monitoring the state of our rivers. Rachel heads to the Clyde Valley to catch up with a ranger who is testing her stretch of the river for signs of pollution.In this week's Scotland Outdoors podcast, Mark meets poet and artist Kenneth Steven who lives on Seil Island. Kenneth's recent book, Atoms of Delight, focuses on the idea of pilgrimages in nature. He explained the concept to Mark.Rachel is in Aberdeenshire meeting the only commercial grower of Saskatoons - a type of super berry. Grower Charlie explains more about the fruit, which is common in Canada, and why he started growing them.The shortlist for this year's Woodland Trust Tree of the Year competition has been unveiled, and there are three oaks from Scotland in the running. We chat to George Anderson from the Woodland Trust about the competition and get an update on the Loch Arkaig Ospreys.Inverness Castle is currently undergoing a major transformation to turn it into a tourist attraction. Mark visited the site and spoke to the project manager about what they're doing and also heard about the restoration of the impressive rose window.Fifty years ago this year, the MV Captayannis, a Greek-registered ship carrying a cargo of sugar, foundered in a storm in the Firth of Clyde, between Greenock and Helensburgh. The ship was never salvaged and became a bit of local landmark. Paul English went on one of the sightseeing trips run by Clyde Charters to get up close with the sugar ship wreck.If you've been in Perthshire over the last few weeks, you may have noticed some rather striking Highland Coos. Thirty giant sculptures painted by artists have been dotted around the region as part of a new art trail. Rachel met one of the artists, Charlotte Brayley, and her colourful coo creation in Perth.

Life hacks, design thinking, cooking up prompt recipes, and so much more! Join us for this engaging conversation with Dr. George Anderson!

Welcome to A Bit Of A Boost, I'm George Anderson, a wellbeing and performance coach, speaker and author and this podcast brings together guest experts, inspirational stories and ideas that I hope will you a bit of a boost.   I recently returned from a week away with the family and a couple of people asked if I exercise whilst I'm away, or put my feet up and relax.   The short answer is 'both', but the longer answer is this 16 minute podcast episode!   Listen in to find out about my personal approach to training whilst on holiday / vacation.   I hope this episode gives you a bit of a boost!

Life hacks, design thinking, cooking up prompt recipes, and so much more! Join us for this engaging conversation with Dr. George Anderson!

Episode #18 of Spotlight of Tasmania we catch up with Dom Baker, CEO of Cricket Tasmania, about what the Macquarie Point Stadium could mean for international cricket in our state, and the future of Blundstone Arena. Kaz finds out how aspiring Tassie drummers should get started, chatting with local musician and drum teacher, Jeremy Sibson. Plus, Tubes hears from 17-year-old Tassie tennis star, George Anderson, who just won his first junior boys' doubles title at an ITF J60 tournament in Ireland.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hello and welcome to A Bit Of A Boost with me, George Anderson   I'm a wellbeing and performance coach, speaker and author and this podcast brings together guest experts, inspirational stories and ideas that I hope will you a bit of a boost.   Today we discuss strengths... not the 'strengths and weaknesses' where you should 'work on your weaknesses to turn them into your strengths', but the elements of your character that you may or not already be aware of are something of a super power.   I talk a lot about strengths with my clients and in presentations, and there's a free tool you can use to identify your top 5 'Signature Strengths'.   If you head over to https://viacharacter.org you can take the free survey and I encourage you to do so (after listening to today's episode of course!)   The 24 Character Strengths are grouped into 6 categories:   Wisdom 1) Creativity 2) Curiosity 3) Open-mindedness 4) Love of learning 5) Perspective Courage 6) Honesty 7) Bravery 8) Persistence 9) Zest Humanity 10) Kindness 11) Love 12) Social intelligence Justice 13) Fairness 14) Leadership 15) Teamwork Temperance 16) Forgiveness 17) Humility 18) Prudence 19) Self-regulation Transcendence 20) Appreciation of beauty 21) Gratitude 22) Hope 23) Humor 24) Spirituality   We all have all of these strengths, but some come more naturally to us than others and it's the top 5 that we're really interested in.   If you can find ways to harness and use these strengths more, you can elevate your wellbeing, performance and impact in almost any aspect of your life.  

Welcome to Hype Report, New episodes available to watch & listen EVERY MONDAY at 6PM! This week on Hype Report, Culture Force is joined by George Anderson! Hype Report Socials - https://linktr.ee/hypereport Culture Force - https://www.tiktok.com/@cultureforce?lang=en https://www.instagram.com/culture.force/ If you'd like to work with us, email the studio on workwiththehypereport@fellasstudios.com Produced by The Fellas Studios: https://fellasstudios.com/podcasts

Welcome to Hype Report, New episodes available to watch & listen EVERY MONDAY at 6PM! This week on Hype Report, Culture Force is joined by George Anderson! Hype Report Socials - https://linktr.ee/hypereport Culture Force -  https://www.tiktok.com/@cultureforce?lang=en https://www.instagram.com/culture.force/ If you'd like to work with us, email the studio on workwiththehypereport@fellasstudios.com Produced by The Fellas Studios: https://fellasstudios.com/podcasts

Hello and welcome to A Bit Of A Boost with me, George Anderson   i'm a wellbeing and performance coach, speaker and author and this podcast brings together guest experts, inspirational stories and ideas that I hope will you a bit of a boost.   Today I want to discuss an experience that all of us will have had, and no doubt will continue to have in one form or another - and that is disappointment.   We'll look at what disappointment is, what can cause, what happens in our brain and body, and how we can rethink it so that it becomes something that fires us up rather than crushes us down.    

George Anderson is a wellbeing and performance expert with 20 years of experience as a coach, trainer and speaker. He works with individuals and organisations to help them take more action towards improving their physical and mental wellbeing, resilience and performance, in the workplace and beyond. George's three key mindset messages: Reframe stress and discomfort Keep an eye on the big picture, but focus on the next step you need to take Set goals to challenge and change you, not just to achieve an end   The food George wanted to try authentic Japanese katsu curry and he absolutely loved it! Please visit Mindset Kitchen to find out more.

If you added up all the land currently forming playgrounds and playing fields around Scotland's schools, it would be roughly the same size as Dundee. Most of that is tarmac or grass cut short for sports but as Helen Needham discovered when she visited Levenmouth High School in Buckhaven in Fife, it's possible for schools to use some of their land in a different way to improve biodiversity and benefit learning and wellbeing.Two rare needlework samplers thought to have been embroidered by Robert Burns's sister and mother have been returned to the poet's birthplace thanks to an American donor. Rachel visited the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum in Alloway to have a look at the samplers and hear about their significance.Bird Gardens Scotland is a bird conservation breeding centre and home to over 300 birds from around the world. It's been built over the past few years by Owen and his husband Mark and now boasts a coffee shop and visitor centre. Mark went for a walk around the sit and met some of the hundreds of feathered residents.A few years ago, an area of grassy scrub came into community ownership near Crail. The community decided to turn the site into an area that would benefit nature and the environment. Rachel went to see how the work was going and hear about the plans for the site.Mark is in the Borders, chatting to two members of the Campaign for a Scottish Borders National Park group. They tell him why their area should be awarded national park status and why lack of council support isn't holding them back.While she was at Levenmouth High School, Helen Needham heard from teacher Duncan Zuill about their failed attempts at planting trees. One of their problems is deer, but as Duncan told Helen, they also don't want to use plastic tree tubes. George Anderson from Woodland Trust Scotland joins us live to tell us why the tubes are needed, and what the plastic free alternatives are.Rachel meets two Newfoundland dogs, Cindy and Yogi, who are trained to help rescue people who get into difficulty in the sea. Their owner Norman tells Rachel about the background to dogs working as rescue animals and how he trains them.

Frank talks about Biden turning down an interview before the Super Bowl and his latest thoughts on the No Labels ticket. He is also joined by George Anderson, the world's most scientifically tested Medium and a New York Times best-selling author. They talk about communicating with the dead. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On The Other Side of Midnight, Frank starts the show joined by Dominic Carter as they talk about migrant crime, making the superbowl a holiday and more. Frank is later joined by Col. Daniel Davis, retired U.S. Army Colonel and currently a Senior Fellow and Military Expert for Defense Priorities. They speak on the war in the Middle East. In the next hour, Frank talks about Biden turning down an interview before the Super Bowl and his latest thoughts on the No Labels ticket. He is also joined by George Anderson, the world's most scientifically tested Medium and a New York Times best-selling author. They talk about communicating with the dead.  Frank starts the third hour talking about age restrictions changing in the Miss USA pageant. He then talks with former Mayor of Las Vegas and current First Man, Oscar Goodman, on the state of Las Vegas, the Super Bowl and the Fani Willis case. Frank wraps up the show talking about the new education problems of excessive absenteeism. He is also joined by Noam Laden for News You Can Use. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

George Anderson, the world's most scientifically tested Medium and a New York Times best-selling author Topic: Is it possible to communicate with the dead? Website: https://georgeanderson.com/ Social Media: https://twitter.com/georgeanderson?lang=en https://www.facebook.com/georgeandersonmedium/ https://www.instagram.com/georgeandersonmedium/ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to A Bit Of A Boost; I'm George Anderson and I'm a wellbeing and performance coach, speaker and author and this podcast brings together guest experts, inspirational stories and ideas that I hope will you a bit of a boost.   Today's solo episode shares a simple strategy that may help you in those moments when you feel you're lacking motivation: take action FIRST!   Putting action ahead of the need for motivation can have a surprising effect, and although some may call it simply lying to yourself, I've found it to be an effective method of getting more done even when I don't really want to.

In this episode, Eric, Jim, and Jody continue their multi-part deep dive into the fighting in and around the infamous Wheatfield at Gettysburg. The hosts focus on the initial combat in the Wheatfield between the 3rd Arkansas and George Anderson's Georgia brigade as they square off with Union Third Corps forces from the brigades of De Trobriand, Ward, and Burling. If you would like to donate to the show, you can do so via the following: A one-time donation on PayPal at paypal.me/gettysburgpodcast A recurring, monthly donation at www.patreon.com/gettysburgpodcast All donations offset the show's production costs and allow it to remain a free resource on the Battle of Gettysburg. You can find The Battle of Gettysburg Podcast on social media at the following: Facebook: The Battle of Gettysburg Podcast Twitter: @gettysburgpod Instagram: @thebattleofgettysburgpodcast Email: gettysburgpodcast@gmail.com Also, check out and subscribe to our YouTube page!

George Anderson has been into fitness all his life. He has even made a career from it. But it wasn't until his late thirties he finally realised quitting alcohol was the missing piece of his performance goals. The aspect he found the hardest was socialising - but just like fitness - practice makes perfect. Host of the Next Round, Laura Willoughby, went to the same university as George, just a few years apart. Back in the 90s, Loughborough University was a big sporting university with a heavy drinking culture. George leant into his passion for fitness when he graduated and has had an amazing career inspiring others. He quit drinking over six years ago. Follow George's YouTube channel  A bit of a boost, and visit his website and Instagram.

George Anderson joins Pippa to discuss what listeners can look forward at his Live performance tonight at The Athletic Club & Social at 35 Buitengracht St. The show starts at 8 pm. Tickets on Quicket for R200.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Welcome to the Instant Trivia podcast episode 922, where we ask the best trivia on the Internet. Round 1. Category: baseball managers 1: IN '72 Ted Williams became the 1st manager of this team that plays its home games in Arlington, TX.. the Texas Rangers. 2: Since taking over the Yankees in 1996, he's guided the team to 6 World Series appearances, winning 4 times. Joe Torre. 3: After retiring as the Dodgers' manager, he guided the 2000 U.S. Olympic baseball team to the gold medal. Tommy Lasorda. 4: This San Francisco Giants manager has the same name as a 49ers running back. Roger Craig. 5: Hall of Fame manager George Anderson receved this nickname because of his scrappy determination. "Sparky". Round 2. Category: "union"s 1: This country's breakup December 25, 1991 made headlines. the Soviet Union. 2: It's what ads for the International Ladies' Garment Workers want you to "Look for". the union label. 3: Nickname for the flag of Great Britain. the Union Jack. 4: It's a co-op banking association in which members pool their savings and lend to each other. credit union. 5: This company erected the first transcontinental telegraph line. Western Union. Round 3. Category: "i", "ay", "eye" 1: Portugal's peninsula. Iberian. 2: Bart Simpson's foreign catch phrase. "Ay Caramba!". 3: Mr. Merchant's movie partner. James Ivory. 4: On the Cuban Missile Crisis, Dean Rusk said "We're" this "and the other fellow just blinked". Eyeball to eyeball. 5: Title for a scholar in Islamic law and religion; he may be a young up and "Khomeini". Ayatollah. Round 4. Category: beauty queens 1: The Miss America Pageant stopped giving this award for friendliness in 1974. Miss Congeniality Award. 2: He was involved with 1972's Miss Tennessee, Linda Thompson, while he and Priscilla were divorcing. Elvis Presley. 3: She was Miss Mississippi and Miss America, and now she's Mrs. Gary Collins. Mary Ann Mobley. 4: A scandal involving her lover lost this ex-Miss America her job with Mayor Koch's office. Bess Myerson. 5: She won Miss World-USA in '73 --but the headband, bracelets and red, white and blue costume came later. Lynda Carter. Round 5. Category: hits of the '90s 1: This 1996 dance hit was actually an English remix by the Bayside Boys using the Spanish chorus by Los Del Rio. "The Macarena". 2: TLC "don't want no" these; one of these "is a guy that can't get no love from me". "Scrubs". 3: In Spetember 1995 this artist's "You Are Not Alone" became the first single in history to enter the Hot 100 chart at No. 1. Michael Jackson. 4: Toni Braxton asked her lover to do this to "my heart, say you'll love me again". un-break. 5: The refrain of his hit "Lullaby" is "Everything's gonna be all right, rock-a-bye...". Shawn Mullins. Thanks for listening! Come back tomorrow for more exciting trivia! Special thanks to https://blog.feedspot.com/trivia_podcasts/

Leading health specialist/radio show host, Nancy Addison talks with George Anderson. George is considered to be the greatest living medium. George has dedicated 40 years of his life to helping people cope with loss. His ability has astounded everyone, as he is considered to be the most scientifically tested medium. They discuss life, afterlife, and things he feels are relevant today. George has been able to bridge the gap between our physical world and the afterlife. website: george anderson.comOrganic Healthy Lifestyle is broadcast live Tuesdays at 3PM ET.Organic Healthy Lifestyle TV Show is viewed on Talk 4 TV (www.talk4tv.com).Organic Healthy Lifestyle Radio Show is broadcast on W4CY Radio (www.w4cy.com) part of Talk 4 Radio (www.talk4radio.com) on the Talk 4 Media Network (www.talk4media.com). Organic Healthy Lifestyle Podcast is also available on Talk 4 Podcasting (www.talk4podcasting.com), iHeartRadio, Amazon Music, Pandora, Spotify, Audible, and over 100 other podcast outlets.

A firefighter with District 2 Emergency Services Inc. works to quell flames July 28, after a truck caught fire on Cimarron Drive north of Floresville. According to George Anderson, who witnessed the Friday-evening fire from his home nearby, the vehicle's driver was able to pull off the road and jump out before flames engulfed the truck and sparked a grass fire.Article Link

Welcome to the Scotland Grows Show, the podcast which celebrates everything that is good in Scottish gardening, as we join gardeners around the country to find out what grows well where they are, and pick up tips and stories along the way.   Series 2 of the Scotland Grows Show launches in conversation with one of Scotland's best-loved gardeners, George Anderson.   George accrued over 50 years in the horticulture industry starting as a gardeners' boy, and moving through to the Head of School of Horticulture at Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh, where he remained for almost 38 years.   George has served as President of The Royal Caledonian Horticultural Society, and as Board Member of the RHS, as well as joining the team as a new presenter on the ‘Beechgrove Garden' in 2005, and in this episode his unwavering love and passion for Scottish horticulture shines through.   Be sure to sign up to our mailing list so we can let you know when new episodes are published.   Scotland Grows magazine is our digital title which celebrates Scottish gardens and gardens, and drops into your inbox 6 times a year. If you would like to subscribe to receive a copy, just follow this LINK.   You can follow Scotland Grows on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and LinkedIn, we'd love to have your company there!   And of course, you can always find your share of gardening goodness on our website at scotlandgrowsmagazine.com. -------------------------------------------- This series is sponsored by ROOTS, a subscription from the National Trust for Scotland which helps both your garden and Trust gardens thrive.   For £6 a month you will be sent a ROOTS pack every six weeks, with gardening gifts, including Scottish seeds six times a year, stories about Scotland's plant life, and tips from  expert Trust gardeners, as well as an invitation to two exclusive ROOTS events a year with the Trust gardens team.   Whether you buy ROOTS for yourself or as a gift for a loved one, your £6 a month will go towards supporting Trust gardens and designed landscapes in Scotland.    Find out more here: www.nts.org.uk/roots    

Show Notes:  https://wetflyswing.com/466 Presented By: Togens Fly Shop, Dette Flies, Bearvault, Mavrk Fly Fishing  Sponsors: https://wetflyswing.com/sponsors It's boat talk today with Chris Callanan as we delve deep into Outcast Boats. We explore his tips on finding the perfect boat, including their unique tweaks to float tubes and the significance of internal bladders in all their boats. We also gain valuable insights into the boating industry. Let's jump into the realm of boats, float tubes, and of course, fly fishing from a whole new perspective. Outcast Boats Show Notes with Chris Callanan 03:16 - We did a stillwater event with Phil Rowley, giving away a Fish Cat 4 Float Tube from Outcast. Chris reveals that the Fish Cat 4 is their top-selling float tube because of its good design and materials. And speaking of float tubes, we look back to the '80s and '90s and explore the evolution and notable differences between float tubes of the past and the designs and materials used in today's models. 05:00 - Outcast provides a range of float tube sizes to cater to individuals' varying needs and sizes. They have two models for the bigger guys: the Prowler and the Fish Cat 5 Max. Chris Callanan's Fly Fishing Story 07:00 - Chris grew up in Buffalo, New York. His father was a physician who loved fishing and hunting, so they moved to Idaho, where he and his dad spent their weekends fishing together. 07:53 - Chris had the opportunity to work during the summers as a fishing guide for the Yellowstone Angler, becoming George Anderson's second employee. 09:26 - Today, Chris lives in Idaho and is working for AIRE, with Outcast as the fishing side of the company. AIRE and Outcast Sporting Gear Products  16:47 - Outcast has been in business since 1995. According to Chris, one notable feature of their products is the inclusion of internal bladders. He breaks down the significance of these bladders to safety and simplified repair processes. 22:51 - We discuss frameless boats like the Fish Cat Scout IGS and the OSG Stealth Pro. 24:57 - Phil Rowley is a big fan of the PAC 9000, an exceptional all-around boat offered by Outcast. 27:35 - The PAC 1400 is the top-selling raft frame on the Outcast side. For AIRE, it's the Super Duper Puma. 30:06 - Chris recommends the OSG Clearwater and OSG Commander if you're steelhead fishing. The OSG Commander is more of a kayak-style boat. For Chris, the OSG Clearwater is also an excellent all-around boat. 35:19 - The OSG Striker is one of the staff-favorite. It is a frameless two-person raft that weighs 100 lbs. 39:00 - Besides their boats, Outcast offers a wide range of boating accessories, including fins, oar locks, oar stops, oars, pumps, and more. They also offer durable bags made from leftover boat materials. 39:54 - Chris highly recommends the AIRE 136DD as the perfect boat for longer trips, including full weekends and overnight adventures. 46:59 - We also talk about our stillwater guru, Phil Rowley, who has a long-standing partnership with Outcast. 50:43 - Chris provides a detailed breakdown of the business operations at Outcast. Coffee Talk with Chris  1:00:00 - Chris loves black coffee and admits to being a coffee snob, having lived in Seattle for a while. He also enjoys making his coffee. 1:02:00 - Chris admits to still using the rod George Anderson gave him 40 years ago during his time at the Yellowstone Angler. He uses a 6-wt. rod for everything, a choice that Phil playfully teases him about. 1:03:48 - Chris loves the Smartless and The Rewatchables. Show Notes:  https://wetflyswing.com/466  

In this episode, meet activist, speaker, and educator Najwa Zebian, spiritual medium George Anderson, and CEO of FieldCraft Survival Mike Glover. Tune in to hear these authors discuss the healing, spiritual, and profound experiences that led to the creation of their audiobooks, and how they hope to personally connect with their listeners. Conversations on Letting Go by Najwa Zebian https://www.penguinrandomhouseaudio.com/book/727163/conversations-on-letting-go/ Ask George Anderson by George Anderson https://www.penguinrandomhouseaudio.com/book/309774/ask-george-anderson/ Prepared by Mike Glover https://www.penguinrandomhouseaudio.com/book/697211/prepared/