Podcasts about involuntarily

Michael Lofton covers the news surrounding Pastor Steven Anderson and his admission into a psych ward. He also reviews the claims his children have made about in as it relates to whether he is fit to be a pastor according to the Bible.

The Daily Shower Thoughts podcast is produced by Klassic Studios. [Promo] Check out the Daily Dad Jokes podcast here: https://dailydadjokespodcast.com/ [Promo] The Daily Facts Podcast. Get smarter in less than 10 minutes a day. Pod links here Daily Facts website. [Promo] The Daily Life Pro Tips Podcast. Improve your life in less than 10 minutes a day. Pod links here Daily Life Pro Tips website. [Promo] Check out the Get Happy Headlines podcast by my friends, Stella and Mickey. It's a podcast dedicated to bringing you family friendly uplifting stories from around the world. Give it a listen, I know you will like it. Pod links here Get Happy Headlines website. Shower thoughts are sourced from reddit.com/r/showerthoughts Shower Thought credits: Atworkwasalreadytake, PEP7s, mccarthybergeron, soreadytodisappear, SPP_TheChoiceForMe, Lord_Spy, PortablePlower, LetMeExplainDis, dismygyans, MisterZh, Dibblidyy, InfinityScientist, Woolisy, Canchura, LeftHandV, brightside1982, bonzisushi, Ryvit, Gogginscrotch, , Nowhereman2380, QuintillionBeetles, metamorphosis___, bananaman-thaaf, DownLikeSyndrom, Crystal_Spammer, K-88, warriordustbunny, hannahbananaak Podcast links: Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/3ZNciemLzVXc60uwnTRx2e Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/daily-shower-thoughts/id1634359309 Stitcher: https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/daily-dad-jokes/daily-shower-thoughts iHeart: https://iheart.com/podcast/99340139/ Amazon Music: https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/a5a434e9-da18-46a7-a434-0437ec49e1d2/daily-shower-thoughts Website: https://cms.megaphone.fm/channel/dailyshowerthoughts Social media links Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DailyShowerThoughtsPodcast/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/DailyShowerPod Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/DailyShowerThoughtsPodcast/ TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@dailyshowerthoughtspod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

David Heurtel welcomes in Anthony Koch, Former National Spokesperson for Conservative leader Pierre Poilievre and current managing principal at AK Strategies, and Jimmy Zoubris, special advisor to the Mayor. The Legault government amends its bill to protect elected officials against intimidation Could we be making a move towards nuclear energy? Involuntarily or consciously, Canadian parliamentarians may have contributed to the interference efforts of foreign actors Hate crimes, assaults and vehicle thefts are on the rise in Montreal

This week we cover Pokémon 4Ever, including Pikachu's PikaBoo and the main feature, Celebi - The Voice of the ForestCheck out our Patreon at patreon.com/OutoftheDryingPan! Signing up can grant you access to behind-the-scenes materials, deleted scenes, exclusive bonus episodes, ways to influence what we discuss on the podcast, and at the highest tier, the option to join as a guest host!Email: outofthedryingpan@gmail.comX/Twitter: @OutOfDryingPanInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/OutoftheDryingPanLinktree: https://linktr.ee/OutoftheDryingPan

On This Episode:Michael chats about the business practice of bumping. “Bumping, also known as “denied boarding,” happens when there are more passengers scheduled to fly on an airplane than available seats."Links:TravelZork TravelWatch This Episode On YouTube! -- Watch, Like, and Sub on YouTubeThe Yo-11 Minutes Playlist on YouTubeU.S. Department of Transportation - Bumping & OversalesTravelZork Tweet from April 13th! (about denied boarding)View From The Wing - By Gary Leff American Airlines Bumps Passenger Off Flight, Agent Says They “Do Not Care About DOT Rules”Las Vegas Speakeasies and Why They Exist - by MovestroContest to win a copy of:Casino Craps for the Winner Leave a comment about this episode below ⬇️Share a link to this episode on Social Media (your choice) Join the TravelZork email list at https://tips.travelzork.com/ (if you have not already)Send an email to tips@travelzork.com before April 20th, 2024Subject: Yo-11 Contest Apr 16 2024-Tell us where you shared this episode on social (or provide a link)-Tell us your name and mailing addressWho wins? 5 winners -First (1) Email Received-Second (2) Email Recieved -Eighth (8) Email Received -10th Email -18th Email Contest Ends on April 20th. Support the show⁉️ Want to contact us or share something?Chat to TravelZork, ZorkCast and TravelZork Travel!

A day planned for trekking transforms into even more of an adventure when fleeting feelings get involved. Blue Dino recalls a recent memory of chancing upon an unlikely companion amidst the greenery of Coorg and a hundred leeches...   Transcription: A wagging tail. Check Soft, loving eyes. Check And a full set of floppy ears. Check and Check.  Against the green tapestry of Coorg, a sweet creature greeted me, all smiles and happy hops. It was immediately clear, he was loved, but wanted more of it. And who was I to deny him of all my time and attention? So as I trekked on narrow, mushy paths, this cheery companion accompanied me; all too familiar with the birds and the leaves and the leeches all around. But this company was only till a point. You see, the moment I felt the blood being sucked out of my thighs was also when I realised his hops and skips had changed directions. Now going away from me to safer grounds. I had been abandoned, just like that.  An hour, three leech attacks, and a hundred shrieks later, I finally made my way back to where we had first met.  Now greeting newly arriving trekkers, he all but ignored me. Did it hurt? Just as much as an ignored text.  Very well then. The new visitors, all adorned in shorter shorts than mine, could have all his love for now. The leeches would get them later.  Involuntarily shuddering, I walked back to the car, side-eyeing my old lover.  Though there were new recipients of his love, the markers remained the same: A wagging tail. Check Soft, loving eyes. Check And a full set of floppy ears. Check and Check.  I wondered if I showed similar markers when looking at my fleeting loves...   Our Website: https://www.likeridingafish.com Follow us on Instagram: @likeridingafish   Music Credits: https://freemusicarchive.org "Woke up this Morning (TP 53)” by Till Paradiso  License: CC BY (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/legalcode)    Background sound from Pixabay 

A woman says she was involuntarily part of a cover up of a child's murder!

In this episode, we discuss Frost by C.N. Crawford. There is rock bottom, and then there is the layer of crap Ava finds herself in the morning after her worst birthday ever. Involuntarily single and not ready to mingle, she finds herself jobless as well. Cue the handsome Seelie King Torin to rush in, saying words that amount to, “I hate you, so, marry me and I'll give you a bunch of money." Nothing in life is easy, and neither is this staged courtship. Ava must compete against, even sword fight, magic-using princesses to give her a shot at winning Torin's hand. While Torin helps her survive the deadly challenges, undesired feelings develop. Can Torin keep his distance from Ava and save his people? Or will his love for her doom them all?  Content warning: Cheating, but not between the couple. Ends on a cliffhanger, but we'll be doing the next book as our first book for the new year! Website: romanceMEpodcast.com | Coming next: Homecoming King by Penny Reid

European and US inflation numbers again surprised the markets by coming in lower than expected. The ending of the 2021–22 transitory inflation was very rapid (in the US, durable goods inflation went from record high to deflation within nine months). It may be that the ending of profit-led inflation is similarly fast. This does, of course, mean that real central bank interest rates are rising more rapidly—and the full effect of past monetary tightening has yet to be felt.

The Army wants soldiers who didn't get the COVID-19 shot to return to service, after drastically falling short of recruitment goals. How close is a hostage deal between Israel and Hamas? Israel's special war cabinet met Tuesday to discuss the deal, and both President Joe Biden and Israel's prime minister say the talks are progressing. President Biden is casting doubt on Beijing's agreement to help curb the flow of fentanyl. What does he say as officials point to the Chinese regime's track record of failing to keep their word? Who will have an advantage in a potential rematch, President Biden or former President Donald Trump? The head of a political advocacy group joins us to explore their chances in 2024. Is China trying to befriend an anti-socialist? We bring you China's message to Argentina's newly elected president and what he says about working with communists. ⭕️ Watch in-depth videos based on Truth & Tradition at Epoch TV

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Across the country, states are trying to tackle the growing mental health crisis. Some are enacting laws and policies that would make it easier to hospitalize or detain the severely mentally ill against their will or through voluntary court-ordered treatment. California is taking steps toward compelling more mentally ill patients into care. Stephanie Sy reports from San Diego. PBS NewsHour is supported by - https://www.pbs.org/newshour/about/funders

Across the country, states are trying to tackle the growing mental health crisis. Some are enacting laws and policies that would make it easier to hospitalize or detain the severely mentally ill against their will or through voluntary court-ordered treatment. California is taking steps toward compelling more mentally ill patients into care. Stephanie Sy reports from San Diego. PBS NewsHour is supported by - https://www.pbs.org/newshour/about/funders

About our guests:Allysa Czerwinskyhttps://www.socialsciences.manchester.ac.uk/criminology/research/postgraduate-research/phd-students/Prof Nicolas Vermeyshttps://www.vermeys.comPapers or resources mentioned in this episode:Julia R. DeCook & Megan Kelly (2022) Interrogating the “incel menace”: assessing the threat of male supremacy in terrorism studies, Critical Studies on Terrorism, 15:3, 706-726, DOI: 10.1080/17539153.2021.2005099Kelly, M., DiBranco, A., & DeCook, J. R. (2022). Misogynist incels and male supremacist violence. In Male supremacism in the United States (pp. 164-180). Routledge.DeCook, Julia (19 March, 2021) The Issue Isn't Incels. It's Racist Misogyny, Global Network on Extremism & Technology**,** https://gnet-research.org/2021/03/19/the-issue-isnt-incels-its-racist-misogyny/Other:Research by Tim Squirrell et alhttps://www.isdglobal.org/isd-publications/?fwp_publication_category=hate-and-polarisationNews articles regarding the Toronto Van attack:https://www.cp24.com/news/victims-families-dignitaries-mark-fifth-anniversary-of-deadly-toronto-van-attack-1.6367465https://www.vice.com/en/article/bvx4kq/incel-toronto-van-killer-found-guilty-of-murdering-10-peopleThe interview with Allysa was created as part of the secrev.org conference.This episode was edited in part using text first audio edition that uses machine learning. It's not bad but I think there are some improvements.

“A fence, also known as a receiver, mover, or moving man, is an individual who knowingly buys stolen goods in order to later resell them for profit. The fence acts as a middleman between thieves and the eventual buyers of stolen goods who may not be aware that the goods are stolen. As a verb (e.g. "to fence stolen goods"), the word describes the behaviour of the thief in the transaction with the fence. As is the case with the word fence and its derivatives when used in its other common meanings (i.e. as a type of barrier or enclosure, and also as a sport), the word in this context is derived from the word defence. Among criminals, the fence originated in thieves' slang tracing from the notion of such transactions providing a "defence" against being caught.[1] Thieves who patronise fences are willing to accept a low profit margin in order to reduce their risks by instantly "washing their hands" of illicitly gotten loot (such as black market goods) and disassociating from the criminal act that procured it. After sales, fences recoup their investment by disguising the stolen nature of the goods (via methods such as repackaging and altering/effacing serial numbers) and reselling the goods as near to the white market price as possible without drawing suspicion. This process often relies on a legal business (such as a pawnshop, flea market, or street vendor) in order to "launder" the stolen goods by intermixing them with legally-obtained items of the same type.[2] Fencing is illegal in all countries, but legally proving a violation of anti-fencing laws can be difficult.[3]” --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/antonio-myers4/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/antonio-myers4/support

After years of alleged discrimination toward pregnant employees at the Department of Homeland Security, a group of Customs and Border Protection officers has now reached the next step in a lawsuit against the agency. The discrimination case, affecting current and former officers and agricultural specialists in CBP's Office of Field Operations, is now certified as a class action lawsuit. An administrative judge at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission certified the class of employees on April 21. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

After a successful webinar with members of Parliament about dual citizenship at the end of last year, and the Minister of Justice's announcement that there would be a legislative amendment on this subject, Stichting Nederlanders Buiten Nederland (SNBN) had high expectations. But the proposed changes are a disappointment, according to Eelco Keij from SNBN. - Na een succesvol webinar met Tweede Kamerleden over de dubbele nationaliteit eind vorig jaar, en de aankondiging van de minister van Justitie dat er in het eerste kwartaal van dit jaar een wetswijzigingsvoorstel zou komen met betrekking tot dit onderwerp, waren de verwachtingen bij Stichting Nederlanders Buiten Nederland (SNBN) hoog gespannen. Het wetsvoorstel is inmiddels openbaar maar inhoudelijk erg teleurstellend, zo vertelt SNBN voorzitter Eelco Keij.

This morning Katyana talks to us about involuntary ticks that can manifest in children and why it happens, what causes them and when they should be a cause of concern.

Have you ever wandered into an abandoned house seeking what goes bump in the night? Did you find it, or did it find you!? In this episode, Meg covers a tale of teenagers who set out one night to do just that, but to their surprise, it wasn't the ghosts that greeted them. What should have been an innocent night of ghost hunting turned into pure terror for Utah teens in the fall of 1997. Jump back to 1984 with Nicole to when a young Janel Mathews, fresh home from her school Christmas pageant, came face to face with a monster whose twisted motives are unclear to this day.

Cooper Lawrence has the top local stories from the WCBS Newsroom...

This episode deals with involuntary celibacy based on certain factors associated with dynamics and the hierarchical structure. Characteristics of individuals are examined that leads to the rationale for people not to be sexually attracted to others. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/romantictruth/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/romantictruth/support

Happy New Year to You!  As we kick off our 4th Season, we are currently being downloaded in 98 countries – a fact that we are tremendously proud of and have worked extremely hard to achieve.Thank you for helping us achieve this momentous goal!On this premier, explosive, new episode, we drill vast, deep and wide to bring you the facts, not the fiction. This is another eye-opening episode as we continue with our in-depth analysis focusing on the Police and their contact with the mentally ill.In September 2022 there were at least 60,252 homeless people, with some 19,310 homeless children, sleeping each night in New York City's main municipal shelter systems.Eric Adams, the 110th Mayor of the Capital of The World (New York City), has announced and undertaken some very bold moves to attempt to address a “crisis we see all around us”.  His administration announced a major push to “remove people with severe, untreated mental illness from the city's streets and subways” with a process called Involuntary hospitalization.The mayor expressed that we have a “moral obligation” to help those that are not in the position to help themselves. This policy will no doubt face strong opposition from civil liberty groups as it will examine what “liberty” and “freedom from “governmental intrusions” are all about.Does a person lose any of their Constitutional protections simply because they mumble to themselves, have clothes that are soiled, torn and in tatters or haven't had a shower in months?Some critics have equated this process with “State sponsored kidnapping”.  While it may sound harsh to some, imagine if you were taken somewhere against your will, how would that make you feel?The mayor's announcement comes at a time when there is an intensive national debate about rising crime and the role of the police – especially dealing with those who are already in a delicate, fragile and tenuous mental state to begin with and may be spiraling downward into a deeper mental health crisis.Join us as we: ● Examine the issues both pro and con, defining the processes that are in play.● Investigate what other states and cities have done and are attempting to do to daily address this issue and those individuals who lack adequate housing and suffer from some degree of mental illness.● Provide you with un-cut, exclusive audio of the mayor in his historic speech at City Hall.● Customarily ask the tough questions that get at the crux of the issue.● Have our pulse on the city with two other “Light ‘Em Up: Action-Exclusive Reports” from our New York affiliate and social justice correspondents on scene.We've worked tirelessly to try to be the “Voice of the people”.  Please share an episode with a friend.  We have more than 52 episodes to choose from. We'd like to thank our friends at Feedspot.com as recently we were honored by being ranked #6 in their most recent poll out of the 40 Best Criminal Justice Podcasts.  Visit their blog at www.Feedspot.com or simply follow this link:  Best 40 Criminal Justice Podcasts You Follow in 2022 (feedspot.com).And for all your news and current affairs check out our friends at Newsly by visiting https://newsly.me.  Use the promo code L1GHTEMUP to launch your 10% savings.The truth is under attack!  The truth is worth fighting for!Thank you so much!Phil RizzoExecutive Producer

Portland Mayor Ted Wheeler wants it to be easier to force people living on the streets into hospitals — even if they have not committed a crime.“When I see people walking through the elements without appropriate attire, often naked, they are freezing to death, they are exposed to the elements … I don't even know if they know where they are or who they are,” Wheeler told a room full of business owners recently, “They need help and they need compassion.”Wheeler's comments came at a meeting to discuss crime in Portland's Central Eastside. The mayor held the forum after the owner of Portland's well-known ice cream brand Salt & Straw threatened to leave the city and amid his own effort to get tougher on public camping. He was asked directly at the forum whether he would support hospitalizing more people involuntarily.Wheeler prepped the audience, saying he would be “resoundingly excoriated” for his comments.But, yes, he continued, he believes it's time to consider lowering the threshold for civil commitments and force the city's most vulnerable to get mental health help against their will. Right now, a person can only be civilly committed by a judge's order and if they pose an urgent danger to themselves or others and are unable to care for their basic needs.The audience applauded the mayor's call, a striking response in a city that has historically prided itself on its compassionate and empathetic approach to helping the unhoused and those struggling with addiction and mental health issues.“We are in the middle of a shift from where the majority of people who were once sympathetic to the homeless are now angry,” said Jason Renaud, with the Mental Health Association of Portland. “And people are angry at the homeless and blame them. It's a shift that comes from the county, the city and the state not doing anything about this problem, to the point where people get mad.”Wheeler's plan to tackle the growing crisis on the streets includes a “90-day reset” in the industrial eastside of the city, which would boost the number of law enforcement in the area and likely result in more homeless camp sweeps. It's a similar approach to what was used in Portland's Old Town neighborhood earlier this year and a strategy some have criticized as compounding the problem.Kaia Sand, the executive director of Street Roots, wrote: “It's hard not to feel exasperated at the shortsightedness, at best, and cruelty, at worst.”Support the showSign Up For Exclusive Episodes At: https://reasonabletv.com/LIKE & SUBSCRIBE for new videos every day. https://www.youtube.com/c/NewsForReasonablePeople

Anika and Jasmin discuss Mayor Adams new policy to involuntarily those 'presumed mentally ill' in public, Biden crushing the rail workers' strike, Christians being outnumbered by non-religious in latest Wales & England census, and DA Alvin Bragg dropping charges against Tracy McCarter.

New York Mayor Eric Adams on Tuesday directed first responders to enforce a state law that allows them to potentially involuntarily commit people experiencing a mental health crisis, as part of an attempt to address concerns about homelessness and crime.Adams said it was a myth that first responders can only involuntarily commit those who displayed an “overt act” that they may be suicidal, violent or a danger to others. Instead, he said the law allowed first responders to involuntarily commit those who cannot meet their own “basic human needs” – a lower bar.New York Police Department officers and first responders will get additional training to help them make such evaluations and a team of mental health technicians will be available, either via a hotline or video chat, to help them determine whether a person needs to be taken to a hospital for further evaluation.Support the showSign Up For Exclusive Episodes At: https://reasonabletv.com/LIKE & SUBSCRIBE for new videos every day. https://www.youtube.com/c/NewsForReasonablePeople

MSNBC host and Citizen Board Member Ali Velshi breaks down the policy of hospitalizing mentally ill persons against their will. Politicians have been wrestling with solutions for decades.

Hosts: Leah Murray and Greg Skordas New York Mayor Eric Adams has directed the police and emergency medical workers to hospitalize people they deemed too mentally ill to care for themselves, even if they posed no threat to others. We speak with Tom Golightly, Associate Clinical Director for BYU Counseling and Psychological Services, to discuss if this is the best way to handle the growing problem of homelessness in American cities.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

The MSM isn't covering them, but the uptick in mid-flight deaths continues. We also discuss who the White House is targeting for depopulation. Why globalists need control of Arizona before the unleash the next "plandemic". And NY City's plan to hospitalize mentally ill people....INVOLUNTARILY....following recent brutal subway attacks. Sources: The Gateway Pundit Brighteon

The rise in homelessness is a source of major tension around the country, including in New York City, which has a larger homeless population than any other city in the U.S. This week, Mayor Eric Adams announced a new policy to try to curb the trend, but as William Brangham reports, it has also drawn criticism. PBS NewsHour is supported by - https://www.pbs.org/newshour/about/funders

New York City cops and mental health clinicians who engage emotionally disturbed people on streets and subways will now be armed with a much broader interpretation of state law to institutionalize those who pose a risk to themselves or others. That broader, more defined legal reading will likely result in the city placing more mentally ill homeless people into hospitals against their will. Mayor Adams announced Tuesday that he issued a new directive to city agencies clarifying the way first responders and other city workers should approach those exhibiting acute mental distress — and what steps city employees are permitted to take to remove those people from a public space against their will.

The rise in homelessness is a source of major tension around the country, including in New York City, which has a larger homeless population than any other city in the U.S. This week, Mayor Eric Adams announced a new policy to try to curb the trend, but as William Brangham reports, it has also drawn criticism. PBS NewsHour is supported by - https://www.pbs.org/newshour/about/funders

Andy Newman, New York Times reporter covering social services and poverty in the New York Metro Region, discusses Mayor Adams' policy announcement expanding police and medical workers' ability to involuntarily hospitalize people with mental illness.

Adams administration could force New Yorkers with mental Illness into treatment, whether they want it or not.      

Mayor Adams, says officials will start rounding up mentally ill folks off the street involuntarily.

Chapter 5In Which Herb and Lorna Meet but Are Separated by WarTHEIR MEETING almost didn't occur, because Herb met Tessie Norris first. He met her at a gas station. He was stopped at a pump, leafing through his appointment book while he was having his tank filled and his oil and water and tires checked. An antiquated touring car pulled up on the opposite side of the pumps, its arrival heralded by a flourish of rattles, pings, and wheezes that made Herb look up from his book. In the passenger's seat, he saw Tessie. She looked like a pastel portrait. That she was picking distractedly at the hem of her dress Herb couldn't see; that her eyes darted about like those of a frightened bird he didn't notice; that she was biting her lower lip he overlooked. He was smitten by her pale, perfect face.     Herb had had little experience with girls or women. In school he'd had his share of crushes but little opportunity to do much about them. Now, sitting in his own car, with some money in his pocket, wearing a new suit, he not only noticed but felt in a position to act.     He got out of his car and walked around the pumps. He seemed to be on his way inside the station, perhaps to inspect the inner tubes displayed in the tiny office, but then a sudden determination seemed to come over him. He looked at the car and at its driver, and he seemed to waver in his course. The driver had by now noticed Herb, and Herb grinned sheepishly, shrugged his shoulders, and stepped briskly to the driver's side of the car.     “Excuse me,” he said. “I've noticed that your machine is — well, heck, it needs some repair, doesn't it? I hope you won't mind my giving you some advice that may save you considerable frustration and unnecessary expense.”     “Huh?” said the driver.     “Hello,” said Herb, leaning to his left so that he could see past the large driver to the young woman beside him. He touched the brim of his hat.     “You selling something?” asked the driver.     Herb chuckled. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said, “but that isn't my reason for stopping to talk with you. I wanted to tell you that my machine, when I bought it, was, well — ”     “As bad as this?” asked the driver.     “Yes,” said Herb, grinning. “I'm glad you said it. Would you like to know something? I made all the repairs myself.” He leaned toward the man and spoke in a low voice. “Who's willing to pay what a professional mechanic asks today? I know I'm not. Even if I were, you and I both know that workmanship today is not what it once was.” Involuntarily, Herb reached for his pocket watch. He stopped himself.     “You're a mechanic?” asked the driver.     “No, no,” said Herb. “I learned everything I know about the automobile from a book! A remarkable book by a fellow named Robert Sloss. I keep it in my machine all the time now. I'd be quite willing to lend you a copy, and I'm sure that by following Mr. Sloss's advice you could achieve remarkable results. Why, one chapter alone — I'm thinking of the chapter called ‘How to Find the Motor Trouble' — would make the book worth its price.”     The man at the wheel of the car was Arthur Norris. Herb lent him a copy of The Automobile: Its Selection, Care, and Use and got his name and address, insisting that it was no trouble at all for him to stop by in a week or two to pick the book up. Herb drove away, humming, planning that, in a week, he would drop by, during the day, in the hope that Arthur Norris would not be at home, but that the young woman, whom he supposed to be Arthur Norris's daughter, would be.     She was not Norris's daughter. She was his wife. She was distracted, nervous, and unhappy. Marriage had been a terrible disappointment to her, a disappointment that had metastasized, and now affected every aspect of her life. She wandered through her days picking at her clothes, biting her lips, mumbling to herself, discovering new disappointments. All days seemed gray, all music seemed monotonous, all birds resembled pigeons, all food tasted like lima beans. Had Herb ever gone to the Norrises' house, as he had planned, Tessie would have grabbed him, clung to him, would have poured out everything to him in the incoherent volubility of the disappointed, the drunken, the mad. Herb wouldn't have been able to take his eyes off her. Arthur might have returned while Herb was still there, and he might well have been pleased to have found Herb there, since Arthur couldn't have been getting much more fun out of married life than Tessie was. Herb wouldn't have been able to prevent himself from selling books to Arthur even if he tried. Arthur would have signed up for Professor Clapp's entire five-foot shelf. He might even have bought one of Herb's five-foot shelves.     In the months that followed, Herb might have become a frequent visitor at the Norrises'. Arthur would have liked Herb, and he would have liked the effect Herb had on Tessie. Arthur would have been quite willing to have them spend time alone together because Herb's lively, hopeful manner would have brought the light back to her eyes, and in a clumsy, uncertain way, Arthur would have tried to push them into becoming lovers, thinking that perhaps Tessie might then bring to lovemaking with him at least an echo, some tremor or ripple, of whatever pleasure she took from Herb. Had Herb become Tessie's lover, his sense of honor, of loyalty, of shame would certainly have pushed him closer and closer to the Norrises, and the trio would have wrapped itself more and more tightly, snugly, closer and closer in its own misery and desperation as time passed. Herb would never have extricated himself, he would never have gone to Chacallit, he would never even have met Lorna.     Luckily, Herb was drafted.In Topical Guide 265, Mark Dorset considers Settings: Gas Stations; World War I; and Luck from this episode.Have you missed an episode or two or several?You can begin reading at the beginning or you can catch up by visiting the archive or consulting the index to the Topical Guide.You can listen to the episodes on the Personal History podcast. Begin at the beginning or scroll through the episodes to find what you've missed.You can ensure that you never miss a future issue by getting a free subscription. (You can help support the work by choosing a paid subscription instead.)At Apple Books you can download free eBooks of “My Mother Takes a Tumble,” “Do Clams Bite?,” “Life on the Bolotomy,” “The Static of the Spheres,” “The Fox and the Clam,” “The Girl with the White Fur Muff,” “Take the Long Way Home,” “Call Me Larry,” and “The Young Tars,” the nine novellas in Little Follies, and Little Follies itself, which will give you all the novellas in one handy package.You'll find overviews of the entire work in  An Introduction to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy (a pdf document) and at Encyclopedia.com. Get full access to The Personal History, Adventures, Experiences & Observations of Peter Leroy at peterleroy.substack.com/subscribe

The Stories Men Tell, my Conversation with Dr. Robin Hadley Shakespeare's 'Ages of Man' : All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;   And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow.  Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.  https://www.thefreshreads.com/the-seven-ages-of-man-summary-and-analysis/ Hello, and welcome to episode 143 of the Childless not by Choice Podcast. My name is Civilla Morgan. My mission is to recognize and speak to childless not by choice women and men around the world, reminding you, us, that we can live joyful, relevant, fulfilled, childless not by choice, lives.   Whether you have children or not, thank you for tuning in!     What is today's show about? The stories men tell!   Thank you Patreon contributors: I would like to take a moment to thank the people who make a financial contribution to the platform on a monthly basis, my Patreon Contributors.    Your contributions help pay my podcast producer, my podcast host, Zoom, where I interview most of my guests, etc. So thank you very much!        If you are not yet a Patron, visit patreon.com/childlessnotbychoice to set up your monthly contribution. No matter your giving level, I have a gift for you!   If you prefer to give via PayPal, you can find me there at booksbycivillamorgan@gmail.com.  Your contributions to the platform are greatly appreciated! Thank you!  https://www.patreon.com/Childlessnotbychoice Jordan Morgan The Knights Your Name Herehttps://www.patreon.com/Childlessnotbychoice Questions or comments? Contact me at:   Email: Info@civillamorgan.com                                                  Or   Visit the website at www.childlessnotbychoice.net, look to the left on the home screen and click on the link below the telephone to leave me an up to 90-second voicemail. Body of episode: I went back to search for our first ever interview and it was 2017! Time flies doesn't it? (link in the show notes).  In that story, you told a story about an interaction at a sports field. I've thought about that story because it just tugged at my heart. Can you tell us more stories of men dealing with childlessness in the real world? (five stories?)   Discuss the book–It's more educational, four chapters on men's stories, background to aging, childlessness, a reference book with the human stories, including Robin's, why don't men talk.   Tell us a little bit about AWOC–Aging Without Children, of which you are a member. ‘If you're not counted you don't count.'--Horace Sheffield.     Articles/links of interest:   All The World's a Stage, William Shakespeare, read by Morgan Freeman   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5hcaYEcAp0     https://childlessnotbychoice.net/episode-72-male-and-childless-not-by-choice-my-interview-with-dr-robin-hadley/   Cynthia Daniels—Exposing Men–The Science and Politics of Male Reproduction    Blogs: 'Coping with Father's Day as a childless man': http://bit.ly/2HRekoC 'Negative perceptions of older childless men': http://bit.ly/2LnGZnQ 'The un-held hand': http://bit.ly/2n2sn2H ‘Non-fatherhood on ‘Fathers Day': http://bit.ly/2MvBpQm 'The case of the invisible older childless men': bit.ly/1SFNsrJ       News media: Daily Telegraph: 'Men 'just as broody as women': http://bit.ly/179NLSD   'HOW IS A MAN SUPPOSED TO BE A MAN? Male Childlessness –  a Life Course Disrupted': https://bit.ly/3aa3TfO 25% discount CCPOD discount code   Latest work: Hadley, R. A. (2020). "Male broodiness...": https://bit.ly/36pOvLz Hadley, RA. 'Men and Me(n)' researching men: https://bit.ly/3c3EKTJ Marston, Musselwhite & Hadley. COVID-19 vs Social Isolation: https://bit.ly/2xYSUGC Academic papers 2019: 'Anxious childhood attachment predicts childlessness in later life': http://bit.ly/2RcGXEM 2019: ‘Social networks of older childless men: http://bit.ly/2LHvJWr 2019: The impact of male involuntary childlessness: http://bit.ly/2INE9rX 2018: The lived experience of older involuntarily childless men: http://bit.ly/2CXeJGQ 2018:The lived experience of older involuntarily childless men: http://bit.ly/2KgP5gt 2011: Involuntarily childless men & the desire for fatherhood:http://bit.ly/2iMN4RB Book chapters 2019: Deconstructing Dad. Palgrave Handbook of Male Psychology: http://bit.ly/2VHuJTU 2018: Ageing without Children, gender and social justice: http://bit.ly/2twhV6s 2018: I Only Wanted to be a Dad': https://amzn.to/2z7q9I6   Special thank you to: Dr. Robin Hadley  Dr. Hadley's Contact/Social Media:  Website: https://www.robinhadley.co.uk/ Orcid: https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4254-7648 Twitter: @robinhadley1 LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/robin-hadley-47282471/ Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/author/robinhadleybook My contact information:Website: www.childlessnotbychoice.net and www.civillamorgan.comFacebook: booksbycivillamorganTwitter: @civilla1Instagram: @joyandrelevancePinterest: Civilla M. Morgan, MSMLinkedIn: Civilla Morgan, MSMhttps://www.teepublic.com/stores/childless-not-by-choice Attached are the reviews of the book that have come out so far. The article titled 'Book review 2022 HRM' is one I wrote on behalf of an academic who wanted to help promote the book but didn't have time to read it!   Episode quotes:  ‘Why are you on the church school board if you don't have kids?' ‘The church is my family.' ‘If you're not counted, you don't count.--Horace Sheffield. ‘Men, including fathers, have a fear of being seen as pedophiles when they are single and or childless.' ‘Society doesn't want to know its men are not virile.'   25% discount CCPOD discount code  

Welcome back to HP After Dark, our show about nothing at all and anything we want. Thanks so much for your support! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Involuntarily Fasting.Support the show

Once Is An Accident - listen to the Podcast I took my friend Tess's virginity by accident. The text popped up on my screen: “Are you ready for me? I hope you're saving up all your cum for when I see you tomorrow.”Lysa attached a video. It was taken last summer, right before we were going to be apart for months. The video started on her face, scrunched up in pleasure, then scanned down her chest, her breasts bouncing in rhythm, nipples beautifully hard. The video kept going further down, over her toned abs, to the fuzzy dusting of blonde hair on her pussy. Further down, and I could see her flowery pussy lips opening, welcoming my cock over and over with a wet sound.Behind the camera, I could hear myself say in a low, gruff voice, “Fuck, Lysa, I'm about to cum.”“Cum inside me,” Lysa moaned on the video. “Cum in me, fill up my pussy…”On the video my cock drove deep into her, as far as it could go, then throbbed, emptying cum into her pussy. Lysa moaned off-camera. In the light of the flash, I pulled my cock from her grasping pussy, letting the cum spill out of her. As the camera tilted up, angling the shot to include not only the cum dripping from her pussy but also her heaving breasts and her face, blonde hair and eyes gazing down at me, I paused the video.“Come on,” I typed back. “That's not fair. You're making it very hard to stick to our agreement.”I'm ashamed to admit that quitting masturbation for three weeks was a harder task than I'd expected, but my girlfriend was going to be out of town for that whole time, and I'd agreed to save it for her. Lysa loved cum more than anything, and I was happy to oblige her, knowing the pent up passion would make my first time back inside her extra good.Our junior year of college ended three weeks ago, so our whole friend group had gone down to my friend Henry's family's place in the Catskills for a vacation before starting our summer jobs. Lysa had to visit family, so she was only coming for the last chunk of the trip.“Only 16 more hours,” Lysa texted back. “I get in late tonight.”“Wake me up when you do,” I texted with a flirty emoji.“I've got a few ideas of how.” She attached another picture, this one of her with two fingers buried inside her wet pussy.“I'm blocking you,” I joked. “Too much teasing, and it's only 9 A.M.”From the door of my room, I heard a knock.“One second,” I called out, before texting Lysa: “Have to go, big day of hiking ahead.” I put my phone down next to me, then yelled to the door: “Come in!”Tess stepped through the door, looking alert and chipper in athletic clothing. She took in the room, frowning.“We've been here one night and it looks like a tornado hit your room.”My best friend from childhood, Tess grew up two streets away from me. We were even each other's first kiss when we were 12. But that was all long ago. Both of us had chosen the same college, several states away from our hometown, and remained good friends. I can't say people didn't ask about me and Tess, though. She was undeniably beautiful: big blue eyes below dark eyebrows, high cheekbones and angular features, chestnut-brown hair tied in a tight braid. And yes, I had spent my teenage years observing the changes in her body, watching as she grew into a stunning, willowy woman with a shapely ass and breasts that were on the smaller side but perfectly fit her short frame. I knew she was beautiful, but our relationship was never really romantic (not counting the first kiss), which suited us perfectly. We worked too well as friends to risk anything. Besides, she had been the one to introduce me to Lysa, and Tess was dating Henry.“You know how I feel about putting clothes in drawers while on vacation. Besides, you don't have to share my room,” I said. I stealthily tucked my semi-hard cock into my waistband and stood, brushing past her to pick up one of the shirts from the ground. Sniffing it, I put it on.“You're horrible,” Tess said with a laugh. “Anyway, I was just coming to rouse you for breakfast. Everyone else is done eating, but what else is new?”“Should I pack a hat? It's supposed to get up to the 90s, right?”“I don't know. Henry and Greg were saying there's a chance of rain. Can I check the weather on your phone?”“Go for it.”Tess picked up my phone, then let out a yelp and dropped it. She blushed furiously “Holy crap, whoops! Sorry!”“What?” I crossed to the bed and picked up my phone. Lysa had texted one last picture, this one a closeup of us having sex. The caption read: “Don't tire yourself out too much.” Tess had picked up my phone only to get an eyeful of my hard cock, wet and veiny, stretching out her friend's pussy.“Sorry, I didn't realize that would be up on my phone,” I said, embarrassed. “Lysa's been… sending me stuff in preparation for her getting in tonight.”“Oh, yeah, no, I get it.” Tess blushed even deeper, then paused. “I – I only looked for a second, so I barely saw anything.”“No, of course.” It was more flustered than I'd seen her in a long time. Neither of us knew what to say.“I'll just check the weather on my own phone,” Tess said, and left.Tess came from a religious family, so her reaction wasn't unexpected. When you're raised by parents who don't even mention the existence of sex to you, it can be tough to bounce back. I'd been the one to explain sex to her, one day when we were teenagers, coming back from school. Even so, by now I figured she'd gotten over the embarrassment and shame surrounding sex, considering she was dating Henry, but she was still fairly innocent. Then again, she had just been surprised with a closeup picture of her two friends having sex, so who wouldn't be embarrassed?I'm sure that was it, I thought as I got dressed for the hike. Regular embarrassment.Despite my late start, a few cups of black coffee jolted me into alertness for the hike. Our other friends, Marina, Bo, and Sarah, were experienced hikers who were glad to drag us along at their fast pace, up trails with pine needles that covered treacherous rocks and roots. I spent most of the hike watching where I put my foot, expecting to twist an ankle any second. When I did hike without my eyes glued to the ground, I found them drawn up perfect, strong, slender legs to Tess's ass in her tight athletic shorts. She was walking ahead of me, holding hands with Henry.I shook my head. Clearly, a mixture of Lysa's teasing and the sexual frustration of the last few weeks had turned me into a dog, slobbering over anything with the slightest female form.We stopped for water at a clearing that looked out over the miles of trees below us. As I drank from my water bottle, Henry pulled me aside.“Can I ask you something, man? It's about Tess.”“What's up?” I thought maybe Tess had told him about the picture she'd seen of Lysa and me and prepared to apologize.“Tess and I have been dating for like four months now, and…” he paused, a little awkward. “I know this is weird, since you guys have been friends forever, but I'm just gonna say it: I kinda thought we'd be doing more, sexually, by now. All we've done is dry humping, nothing below the clothes.”Hearing that was surprising, but not completely unexpected. So Tess was still a virgin. I don't know how that made me feel. Part of me was bummed for my friends that they were missing out on all the great things sex had to offer, but another part of me, one I didn't realize was there, felt a flash of… something. Not surprise, but maybe lust. I tried not to show emotion on my face as he went on:“She's said she's waiting for marriage to actually have sex, which I totally understand, but do you think she'd want to do anything more than just makeout and dry hump? Not even just for me. I'd love to make her… finish, you know.”“I haven't talked with her about it,” I said truthfully. “It's not the sort of thing we discuss.”“Do you know if she's ever gone further than that with her previous boyfriends?”“What previous boyfriends?” Tess had never dated anyone seriously before Henry. Heck, the only reason I knew she was straight in high school was that she'd talk about having crushes on boys, but when I'd tell her to do something, she'd refuse. “If I were you, dude, I'd just let her lead the way. She does what she wants, but not before she's ready.”On the way back down the mountain I watched Tess with more curiosity. It certainly explained her reaction to the picture – she was totally inexperienced, so maybe it was more disgust at what she had seen. I felt bad for just leaving my phone open. I knew her well enough to know her reaction wouldn't be one of judgment, but it had to make her uncomfortable. I resolved to apologize when I got the chance.By the end of the hike we were all dripping with sweat. As Tess pulled her shirt up to mop off her flushed face, I could make out the tender curve of her breasts beneath her sports bra, and, I noted with another pang somewhere in my stomach, surprisingly hard nipples. When she lowered the shirt she was looking right at me. I looked away, too late.Damn, I thought, cursing the fact that Lysa wouldn't return for another eight or nine hours. I just needed to stop myself from getting horny for long enough not to do something stupid.“Well, I'm gonna head to bed,” Henry said, getting up. It was late at night and we'd put on a movie after the night of drinking had wound down. Just about everybody had drifted off from the movie and gone to sleep, save for me, Henry, and Tess, who'd seen it through to the end. We were all tired, dressed for bed.“I'll be right there,” Tess said, as Henry wandered off groggily. Then she turned to me, a small smile on her lips. “T minus two hours until Lysa gets here. Are you excited?”“Of course. I miss her a lot.”“I mean, are you… excited?” Tess said, gesturing down at my crotch.“Ha ha ha,” I said sarcastically.Tess sat in a comfortable recliner across from me, her legs crossed under her. Without realizing, my eyes drifted down her pajama-clad form and I saw with a start that she wasn't wearing panties under her loose pajama shorts. I could make out a dark bush and the tight cleft at the top of what seemed to be her beautiful innie pussy. Of course she wasn't shaven, I thought, my cock beginning to thicken. She'd never even had sex.“I guess she hasn't been too far away, what with all those pictures,” Tess said.She shifted on the chair. I got an even better view of her bush, and through it her neat pussy lips.“Yeah. I'm sorry about that. You didn't have to see that.” I tore my eyes away from the faint glimpse of her pussy.“No, I liked it,” Tess said. “The wifi's terrible out here, so my porn has been taking forever to load. Easier to just get it of the two of you.”“There's plenty more where that came from,” I joked.“Is there?”I looked at her, trying to decide whether she was bluffing. We'd both had a lot to drink, but the several hours of the movie had sobered us up. She didn't usually speak this brazenly.“Yeah. Videos, too.”Tess's face was now as pink as mine. Was she not joking around?“Can I see?”“Should I airdrop them, or just email?”Tess stood up and moved across the room to me. My heart started to beat fast. I couldn't stand up, because I was rock hard.“Show me.”Trying not to let my hands shake, I opened my phone. I pulled up the picture she'd seen, the closeup on Lysa's pussy with my bare cock drilling into it.“Really?” I asked.Tess nodded. She leaned down, and I caught the soft curve of her small breast down her sleep shirt. I hesitated, then thought, Fuck it. I turned the phone to her. She drank in the picture onscreen with her eyes.“I've already seen this one,” she whispered, sending a shiver up my spine. This was bad. I was too horny. I should lock my phone and get out of here. I swiped to the next one – the video of me and Lysa, paused with the cum trickling out of her pussy, her tits and face in the shot.“Where are you?”I rewound the video. The only sound in the room was the slick squishing sound of me entering Lysa, then her moaning. Tess's mouth was half-open as she watched.“Fuck, Lysa, I'm about to cum.” At that, I quickly paused the video, returning to my senses. This was too much. Too personal. Lysa wouldn't want me showing intimate videos of us to one of our best friends. And did I really want Tess to see my dick? I was more drunk than I thought. And so was she, if she allowed it.“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I shouldn't show you that.”“No, it's okay,” Tess muttered. “It's hot. I have a thing for small dicks.”I looked up at her. She was grinning. We both burst into laughter.“Oh, you motherfucker,” I said, leaping up to grab her. She shrieked and tried to make an escape, but I grabbed her and tackled her, tickling her, onto the couch. We were both laughing. Only when I paused for breath did I realize what a bad idea that had been. I was still completely hard, and was only wearing my boxers.From beneath me, Tess tickled me back, and I grabbed her arms, trying to keep her from tickling me.The rest of it happened fast. I was on top of her, hard, and somewhere in the maneuvering my cock must have slipped out of the hole in my boxers. I knew that reaching down to fix the situation would immediately make it clear to her what had happened, so I tried to keep her pinned, unable to look down. That was my undoing – Tess spread her legs, trying to get them around me for some purchase.All of a sudden, as she did, I felt my cock press up through the leg of her baggy shorts, against her hairy mound. She gasped in surprise, moving her lower body back, but all that did was make my cock slip down, nestling into the hot wetness between her lips. It happened so fast I didn't even think about the fact that she was dripping wet.“Is that your –” Tess started to ask, trying to reposition herself.Then I felt her pussy open and I slipped inside her. We both froze. I looked down. Her hairy pussy lips were stretched around my cock. I didn't have time to think about how amazing her pussy looked – how long I'd wondered what it would look like, what she'd feel like. Though I was only a few inches into her, it was almost too much for me.“You're… inside me.” Her voice quavered.It happened in such slow motion that the freeze-frame image of Tess below me, looking down in open-mouth surprise at her shorts pulled to the side, her wet pussy clenching my bare cock, is burned into my mind, though the moment only lasted a second or two.“I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to…”“No, I wasn't wearing panties, it's my…” She trailed off, her breath ragged.The moment was dreamlike. Neither of us were moving to pull apart. My cock throbbed inside her and she gasped. I felt her pussy clench. She was getting wetter, somehow. Involuntarily, I pushed an inch further into her, my cock moving on its own to bury itself as deep into her scalding hot pussy as it could.“Wait,” she said, her voice soft and strained. “Don't –” Then she was cut off by a gasp. Her body shuddered and her legs, which were still around me, pushed me deeper into her. I bottomed out in her unbelievably tight pussy. Tess was small, but she could take my whole length buried snugly inside her. She was coming, hard, trying to stifle her own moans as her pussy clenched around me.“Fuuuuuuuck, I'm commmingggggg…” Tess whimpered.Her body jerked, and she wrapped her arms around me, pushing our bodies fully together. Her pussy was too tight. I wasn't going to last, especially since it had been three weeks with no sex or masturbation. I was bare inside of her, and if she didn't even trim her pussy, what were the chances she used birth control? I couldn't cum in her. With the last ounce of my willpower, I tried to pull out.“Tess, I'm gonna –”I only made it halfway. Tess, who was still shuddering in orgasm, firmly pulled me back into her. That feeling of sliding the rest of my length back into her tight, tiny pussy was the end of it. I felt my cock swelling up, before I came hard, deep inside her.As my cock jerked, shooting cum against the back walls of her pussy, her eyes snapped open. She could feel my warmth splashing into her. “No, no, I'm not – oooohhhhhh –” She writhed in orgasm again, while I emptied three weeks' worth of cum into her. Any thought of trying to pull out was forgotten. All I wanted to do was bury into her and fill her up. I came and came. Each jerk of my cock within her drew another small “Ooh” from her. Her pussy squeezed me tighter than any I'd experienced.“Oh my goddd….” she moaned softly. I slumped down on top of her, breathing heavily into her neck. We stayed like that for a while, until the last jerks of my cock and the last of her small shudders subsided, indicating that we'd ridden out our climaxes.I lifted my head to look down at her. She was beautiful – blue eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her hair a mess on her sweaty forehead. Through her white sleep shirt, I could see the outlines of her areolae and the tiny tents of her nipples. We looked at each other for a long moment, faces close together, then she shook her head in wonder.“I can't believe that just happened.” Tess looked down at the place where my cock was still buried inside her. Her pussy was overflowing with my white cum, dripping out around my cock. “You came inside me,” she said, quietly.“I'm so sorry,” I said, “I didn't mean to –”“No, I stopped you from pulling out. I… I've never cum that hard in my life. It's my fault. It was so good… I didn't want it to end.”“Me neither,” I said, and she let out a small laugh. As she did, her pussy squeezed me, milking another drop of cum from me.I breathed out and lifted myself up, pulling my cock out of Tess with a soft squishing noise. Even after such a hard pounding, her pussy lips were tight and perfect. My cum trickled out from between them, and she reached down to catch it on her fingers. “Wow.”“I'm sorry.”“Do you always… cum this much? How does Lysa take it all?”My insides twisted at the mention of Lysa. “Oh, god –”“Don't feel bad. It was an accident.” Tess was still on her back, legs spread, looking up at me, not making any effort to cover her small, hairy, freshly fucked pussy. It was a beautiful sight.“Yeah,” I said. “An accident.”“No need to explain to either Lysa or Henry why you took your best girl friend's virginity and pumped her pussy full of cum, especially when it wasn't on purpose.”“Jesus, Tess.” In the rush of sensations, I'd forgotten. “I just took your virginity.”She finally stood, barely coming up to my collarbone. I couldn't read her expression. Then she pulled off her shirt, revealing beautifully round, petite breasts that sat high on her chest, with dark nipples that looked big on her small tits. She then slid down her shorts, exposing her pussy in all its glory. A line of my cum ran out of her and down her legs.“I'm going to need to shower.” She looked so serious. I couldn't tell if she was angry, confused, sad – I was horrified to think I'd just ruined one of my longest friendships.“Tess, I –”“Come join me.”She took a step toward me, then threw her arms around me. I hugged her back. I could feel my cock, which in my dazed state I hadn't tucked back into my boxers, pressing into her pubic mound. I was still wet with our combined juices. Tess looked up at me. Tentatively, as if we hadn't just fucked, I leaned in to kiss her. Our lips met in a spark of passion, our tongues probing hungrily for each other. Finally we broke apart.“That was the best way to lose my virginity I could have ever asked for.”Tess took my hand and led me to the bathroom, then locked the door behind us.“Never know when Henry'll be back.”Tess turned on the shower. Undressing myself, I watched her outline in the mirror, her incredible ass, tight and perfect for her frame, with the barest hint of her dark, bushy lips between her legs. She splashed water onto her breasts, testing the warmth, then shivered.“This place takes forever for the hot water to turn on,” Tess said. I was naked, half-hard, staring at her. “What?”“Just trying to figure out where we go from here.”“Don't ruin it by thinking too much. We'll always love each other. One accident won't change that. Besides, there's something poetic about losing your virginity to the same person you had your first kiss with. Someone you can really trust.”As she spoke, she stood close to me in the small bathroom. It was surreal havi

Our guest on the podcast this week is the Russian cartoonist Vyacheslav Shilov. He was born in 1970 in Potsdam, Germany. Until recently Vyacheslav Shilov, a member of the Union of Artists and Graphic Artists of the International Federation of UNESCO, lived in St. Petersburg. Today Vyacheslav with his family is outside Russia - in Europe. Vyacheslav Shilov in addition to his talent is known for his civic position. He has worked with the St. Petersburg Ombudsman Aleksander Shishlov (everyone remembers his wonderful human rights calendar). Vyacheslav also drew for Amnesty International: the cover of Amnesty's report on "Agents of the People" was created by Vyacheslav Shilov.The topics we discuss on the podcast include: his education and early career as an artist; The questions we ask Vyacheslav Shilov include:1) You have lived in Potsdam, Kaliningrad, St. Petersburg and now Europe. What has inspired you to move from place to place?2) You graduated in journalism from St. Petersburg State University and yet we know you as an artist. Did they teach you to draw at the University?3) How did you became involved with human rights activists?4) You have drawn for many newspapers (Nevskoe Vremya, Vecherniy Peterburg, Smena). Have you experienced censorship in your work?5) Are there differences of opinion among St. Petersburg artists (and not just cartoonists)? Is there a division between "patriots" and "regime critics"?6) You have recently left Russia with your family after receiving threats. When did these attacks increase in intensity?7) How do you assess the situation in Russia? Are all people engaged in the arts leaving or planning to leave? A lot of people compare the current situation with the emigration to Constantinople in the 1920s or to the ‘Philosophers' Steamship' when intellectuals left Russia after the revolution. Do you agree with these analogies?8) How do you see the future of human rights activism in Russia? What awaits the country and the world?9) What plans do you have while you are in Europe?This podcast is in Russian. You can also listen to the podcast on our website, SoundCloud, Spotify, iTunes, Google Podcasts, Anchor and YouTube. Sergei Nikitin writes on Facebook: “There were several reasons for our departure,” Vyacheslav Shilov said. “The final straw, after which I no longer wished to remain in Russia, was the fact that in the school where we had enrolled our son (it's a good school, of high quality, with good facilities) they began to give political education to the children, talking about the glorious victories of Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.”Slava Shilov, our guest on our latest podcast, is a St. Petersburg artist, a great caricaturist and a brilliant graphic artist, told us that when he and his family flew from St. Petersburg to Istanbul, several associations with the past of our motherland surfaced in his mind. These were the ‘Philosophers' Steamship' and the exodus to Constantinople. The passengers on the only voyage that day, the voyage to that very Constantinople, were quiet, intelligent people.Involuntarily comes to mind the history of a hundred years ago, when more than 150 000 people left Russia on 126 ships. And the ‘Philosophers' Steamship' on which in 1922 almost three hundred people left Russia, deported by the Kremlin authorities. ‘The future has been stolen,' says Vyacheslav Shilov, one of the thousands of Russians who left a country that has become an aggressor, a country that has become a disgrace.For how long? You can help Vyacheslav Shilov by buying his work at https://cartoonagency2.blogspot.com/2020/06/artoon.html(c) Viacheslav Shilov - illustration for Amnesty International report "Russia: Agents of the people: Four years of "foreign agents" law in Russia: Consequences for the society

Just take a listen. You'll like it, I “promise.”

Hang with us, Cat and Amanda, as we discuss homeschooling. Listen to Cat talk about why she chose to homeschool and Amanda talk about how, like many Americans, she felt forced.

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sweet thoughts turned to words on my rooftop amidst morning chai time

 Charles - Part 1Charles Templeton was born October 7th, 1915 in Toronto Canada. With four other siblings in the midst of the depression, the family learned to adapt on meager wages. Everyone in the family had to do their part. Young Charles, picked up drawing and was quite talented at it. So, after failing to pass the 9th and 10th grade, he pursued his knack of drawing sketches, hoping that someone might find value in his work and purchase them. Charles was pleasantly found right - the 17 year old artist was hired onto the Toronto Globe as a sports cartoonist.Overnight, the teenager was making good money and was thoroughly enjoying his job. Charles found himself in the very midst of the sports news world, and everything else associated with it. Notoriety, late night drinking, and fawning women were all bonuses. He would later write about this time in his life, “To a boy in his late teens, it was the best of all possible worlds.”But after four years, the underbelly of his envied job and lifestyle began to show. Returning home one morning at 3:00 a.m. from a party, the young man feeling quite depressed looked into a mirror. He didn't like the reflection. As he walked to his room his mother heard him in the hallway and called out to him. She talked to him about her own faith in Christ.Charles would later write about this event: “As I went down the hall, I was forming a prayer in my head, but as I knelt by my bed in the darkness, my mind was strangely vacant; thoughts and words wouldn't come to focus. After a moment, it was as though a black blanket had been draped over me. A sense of enormous guilt descended and invaded every part of me. I was unclean. Involuntarily, I began to pray, my face upturned, tears streaming. The only words I could find were, "Lord, come down. Come do[wn]. Come down. . . .”______________________________________________________________________________Billy - Part 1At this same time, in the United States near Charolette North Carolina, Billy Graham had just graduated from high school. As he struggled through school being the son of a Dairy Farmer, his graduation was a feat that many questioned. And while the young man had grown up in a godly and Christian environment he had just made a personal commitment to Jesus during a revival two years earlier, under the preaching of Baptist evangelist Mordecai Ham. Like his future friend and preaching partner, Charles Templeton, Billy was also convicted by his sin and his need for forgiveness. That night at the diner table, Billy stopped to inform his family that he had been saved that day.While he first enrolled at Bob Jones College in Cleveland Tennessee, since it was closet to home and less expensive than Wheaton, he quickly felt the school too legalistic and rigid. So, after only one semester, and racking up nearly enough demerits to be kicked out, he transferred to Florida Bible Institute. And it was there in 1937, that Billy would begin to preach.Having become mentored by the academic Dean of the school, John Minder, Billy joined him to attend a Baptist conference in Palatka Florida. When Minder was asked to speak that night to a small church of Baptist preachers, he politely declined saying that Billy would be pleased to preach in his place. So, with no real choice in the matter, the 19 year old awkwardly preached for the first time - it was a mixture of four different sermons he had memorized from Moody Press. He would later remember that the sermon was very “Raw”.  The next few years in Billy's life would be transformational. He was baptized on December 4, 1938 in Silver Lake, Florida, ordained to the ministry in a Southern Baptist church a year later, and graduated from Florida Bible Institute in 1940. And so began his humble and long journey into becoming one of the most influential evangelist in America. But there was another great evangelist being formed in Canada - and the two were soon to meet and unite their passion and calling to preach the truths of the Bible to a world on the brink of another World War.  ______________________________________________________________________________Charles - Part 2By this time, Charles had left the Toronto Globe to enter the ministry and to give himself fully to the preaching of the gospel. He had evangelized all over - Michigan, New York, Indiana, Illinois, and even further south, probably very close to where Billy was himself beginning his career as a preacher. Charles had met his wife in Grand Rapids Michigan and the couple was married 6 weeks later. But soon after in 1941, in the midst of starting a new church with his new wife, Charles read a number of books written by famous secular authors. And for the first time in his short life as a follower of Jesus, his faith in the veracity and miraculous claims of the Bible was challenged. But Charles soon stuffed these troubling questions behind the success of becoming one of North America's top evangelist and so, he continued to do what he knew best.And before long, notable people began to take notice of Charles' ministry. In the Spring of 1945 he was invited by a local pastor named Torrey Johnston to speak at Chicago Stadium to a crowd full of young people. It was a Youth for Christ rally and attendance was steadily growing into the thousands. Backstage, among the noise of a boisterous crowd, Torrey introduced the young Canadian evangelist to the slightly younger Billy Graham and the two preachers become instantaneous friends. On the platform, just before Billy was about to speak, he leaned over to his new friend Charles and said, "Pray for me. I'm scared to death."  Soon after, a Youth for Christ team was selected to take the message of the gospel to a war torn Europe. Torrey Johnston would serve as the president while Billy and Charles would alternate as preachers. The tour went well and over the months Charles' and Billy's friendship grew as did their success and influence. But the questions, that had bothered Charles years before could no longer be ignored. So, at thirty three years of age, and without formal education for the last 15 years, Charles was accepted into the theologically liberal Princeton University to formally seek answers to those doubts “that were [secretly]  eroding his faith.” Charles remembers these three years at Princeton as some of the best in his life. Among his enjoyable courses, Charles would often see Albert Einstein, who lived only three houses away from the Campus Seminary. But although he throughly liked his new environment, Charles couldn't escape the fact that he was experiencing a real crisis of faith about the Bible and the person of Jesus. And his fears of possibly believing and preaching something not empirically, historically or spiritually true, was being shared by his friend Billy as well.______________________________________________________________________________Billy - Part 2It was August of 1949, and Billy was 30 years old in Forest Falls, California in a Christian Camp speaking to a crowd inside Hormel Hall. No one knew it, but having been recently challenged by his friend and fellow evangelist, Billy was now internally questioning the veracity of the Bible and whether he believed it to really be God's spoken word to humanity. It was a shocking blow to Billy's confidence that his friend, fellow pastor and Bible teacher now believed the Scriptures to be flawed, outdated and full of superstitions. The two had discussed their disagreements and had been civil about their opposite conclusions, but if Billy was really honest, he still had lingering doubts.The weight and the enormity of it all bore down on Billy's soul. So in the dark woods of the night at Forest Home Billy placed his bible on a random tree stump and cried out: “O God! There are many things in this book I do not understand. There are many problems with it for which I have no solution. There are many seeming contradictions. There are some areas in it that do not seem to correlate with modern science. I can't answer some of the philosophical and psychological questions Chuck and others are raising.” Falling to his knees, Billy then resolutely confessed “Father, I am going to accept this as Thy Word—by faith! I'm going to allow faith to go beyond my intellectual questions and doubts, and I will believe this to be Your inspired Word!”Billy later recalled in this moment that the Holy Spirit was moving within him and he felt his presence and power in a new and fresh way - one that he hadn't experienced in months. For Billy “A major bridge had been crossed.” On the next day, 400 people made a commitment to Jesus and Henrietta Mears, the woman who invited Billy to speak at the camp noted that he “taught with [more] authority” than she had ever seen before.And while at first, Billy had reluctantly accepted Henrietta's invitation to speak at Forest Home, he now knew why God led him into the forest. Like Jesus being led into the Desert - a test was finished and a decision was made - a decision that would effect the  course of Billy's calling and in turn, the eternity of millions. While Billy was calling people to trust and follow Christ, Christ was calling Billy to trust and follow His word.Billy's heart and mind were now settled. And his friend Charles was settling his. While the two friends remained courteous, they grew apart from each other knowing their views of the Bible and the person of Jesus were diametrically opposed to each other.______________________________________________________________________________Charles - Part 3By the end of Charles' three years at Princeton in 1951, his doubts about the Bible had nearly solidified and his faith was no more. And yet, because of his success and influence, he was still offered positions on numerous platforms. Radio and Television ministries, as well as churches all sought him out. In 1953, Charles found himself living in Manhattan as the Director of Evangelism for the Presbyterian Church USA. But it wasn't long before the weight of leading others into a theological persuasion that he himself no longer thought true, came to a head.Charles would later write: “What right did I have to stand before … thousands of people [that] I had been preaching to nightly for years, using all my persuasive skills to win them to something I was no longer convinced of myself? It was a reprehensible thing to do and I must stop it.”And stop it he did. Charles left the ministry in 1957, publicly declaring that he was an agnostic. At this time, his mother who's faith was real and vibrant was dying from cancer - although Charles was with her when she past, she died assuming her boy was still a believing Christian and in the ministry. On top of this, Charles and his wife Connie were undergoing a divorce after 18 years of marriage. She too was still a Christian and was heavily involved in the church. Charles' conclusion about the Bible came with great cost:“It seemed that all of life was showing me its nether side. My faith was gone, my marriage was dead, my mother was dying. I was cutting myself off from the hundreds of friends I had made during nineteen years in the church. I was abandoning people who looked to me, including thirty-six men and women who were in the ministry or on mission fields because of my work. I felt like a betrayer….But there was no real choice. I could stay in the ministry, paper over my doubts and daily live a lie, or I could make the break.”______________________________________________________________________________ConclusionAs Charles made the physical break from the Church, he was merely following the decision that his heart and mind had made years before. Similarly, as Billy continued in evangelism, he too was naturally following the resolution that he had made in the dark forest years ago. And so, the two friends had chosen their two separate paths and were now far from each other. As the years past the two naturally grew apart. Charles became more involved in television and writing, and had even invented a child resistant medicine cap and a teddy bear that stayed warm throughout the night.Billy continued in evangelism, and as most people know, would become one of the most influential Christian leaders of the 20th Century. Although there are many reasons for Billy's success, none could have been as important than the decision he made at Forest Home. Billy knew this, as did those close to him. And In 1967, a massive rock in honor of how Billy overcame doubt that fateful night 18 years before, was dedicated at the Christian Conference Center, Forest Home. In addition to preaching, Billy would go on to publish many books on the Christian faith.And while not producing as much content as Billy, Charles authored some books as well. In 1996, just 5 years before his death, Charles chronicled his doubts about his faith in his most well known book entitled: Farewell To God - My reasons for rejecting the Christian Faith. “In straightforward language, Templeton deals with such subjects as the Creation fable, racial prejudice in the Bible, the identity of Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus' alienation from his family, the second-class status of women in the church, the mystery of evil, the illusion that prayer works, why there is suffering and death, and the loss of faith in God.”(4)Soon after the book was published, Charles was diagnosed with Alzheimers. But before his passing, Charles was interviewed by a curious journalist and once atheist named Lee Strobel. Upon Charles' resolve in denying Christianity's most foundational claims, he surprisingly confessed with tears in his eyes that he “missed Jesus”. Charles Templeton died soon after on June 7th, 2001 in Toronto Canada.Billy would live for 17 more years. With nine months short of living a century, Billy Graham died on February 21st, 2018. His last words were recorded: “By the time you read this, I will be in heaven, and as I write this I'm looking forward with great anticipation to the day when I will be in God's presence forever.” (3)Two similar men who for a season shared the one Christian faith.  But over time the two decisions they made about the Bible led to two very different faiths, and two different lives with extremely divergent endings. Now that we know what these men thought about the Bible, and the place it served or didn't serve in their lives, what do you believe? And perhaps a better question to ingest is how will that effect you when you step into eternity?_________________________________________________________________________________Video Clips:How to read the Bible? What to expect from reading? - Billy Graham, (Youtube)Charles Templeton interviewed by Pierre Berton at 72 (Beginning of clip - communication), (Youtube)Webster! Full Episode October 27, 1980 (36:00 -50:00), (Youtube)Christopher Hitchens talks about Billy Graham, (Youtube)Richard Dawkins exploding at bullshit in the Bible, (Youtube)Articles:Templeton, Charles,  An Anecdotal MemoirGraham, Billy, Just As I Am, Billy Graham, 1997https://www.fayobserver.com/news/20180221/billy-grahams-last-column-by-time-you-read-this-i-will-be-in-heavenhttps://www.thriftbooks.com/w/farewell-to-god-my-reasons-for-rejecting-the-christian-faith_charles-templeton/287805/item/1711095/?gclid=CjwKCAjw7--KBhAMEiwAxfpkWKxKCBq11cKOHfkUQDe3mo5ao_Xoc5rqmTuCPIceHA0hF5-M6j0OJhoC9sMQAvD_BwE#idiq=1711095&edition=4422278https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/justin-taylor/charles-templeton-missing-jesus/______________________________________________________________________________ 

Join us on today's Dear Badger as the panel goes through an article on The Guardian which talks about and tries to convince us that female incels are deserving of sympathy and compassion and male incels deserve prison time. Maybe.

Suffolk County Sheriff Steve Tompkins has been watching the tents go up around Mass and Cass with dismay, and now he has his own idea for how to address the humanitarian crisis: renovate a now-vacant section of the South Bay House of Corrections to house and treat people struggling with homelessness and addiction.

Involuntarily celibate is an accurate way to describe the situation a sufferer of a sexless marriage find themselves in. It is, however, in no way a recommended descriptor to use when discussing the issues and emotions surrounding a sexless marriage. Listen now.

New coronavirus restrictions are placed under the microscope here on The Todd Starnes Show, along with the chaos at the border and the latest news from Congress. Todd discusses the events of the day with Stephen Morris and author Don Brown! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ever judged someone and felt immediately guilty about it. In this episode we talk about the stigma behind judgement and how feeling guilty about judging people might be the wrong reaction. Awear Instagram: instagram.com/awearapparel/ Awear Website: awear-apparel.com/

I'm back…Excited to talk with you today about Your Time...Your Direction...Your Focus...Ultimately, Your Life.   Quote of the day:  "He who knows he has enough is rich"….Loa-tzu   I have always had mixed emotions about this quote because I felt it meant to settle… But the more I contemplate this quote, the more I understand it… It's been said that the secret to Happiness is NOT “having what you want” but “wanting what you have”.   I believe that if we enter a constant state (as ed mylett would say) of Blissful Dissatisfaction, then we are not saying we are content with our current state…we are happy and grateful for what we have while simultaneously pursuing a better version of our selves and a better life. I don't mean better as in more money, fame, recognition, etc (although you may have as much of that you as desire in life too).  I mean having a better life of happiness, fulfillment, helping others, and yes success and prosperity.   Anyway…there is more to these daily quotes than lies on the surface if you will think about them each day and use them to better your life.   So, Today's topic is on Time….   We talk a lot about wealth, but sometime we forget that our Time is the Greatest Asset we have. We forget that regardless of how much money, talent or opportunity you have, we all have 24 hours in a day. But, It's is how you spend your asset of time that matters the most. How are you spending your TIME? Are you investing your time or are you wasting it? Are you taking your “free time” and wasting it on “rest, netflix, catching up on sleep, and other thing that rob you of the dreams you have in life?”   Remember the quote a few days ago..”laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired”…I think we convince ourselves (program ourselves) to think we need rest when what we really need is to achieve Growth, our Dreams, and Fulfill our Purpose... Time is the great equalizer in the world of Success, Prosperity and Happiness. We all have the same 24 hours in a day.   I know what you are thinking and what is coming up for you in your head right now... -I have job or two or three that take my whole day -I have kids, family and responsibilities others don't have -I wasn't given the same environment, opportunities, and things others have -I am not as skilled or talented as the next person Excuse, Excuse, Excuse….Yes, there are some people and situations that are different or have a bit of an advantage, but how You view your circumstances determines your outcome.   Wayne Dyer says, “when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change” I believe this without a doubt…   So, you can either choose to believe that you are overwhelmed, overloaded, stressed and under the gun or you can choose to accept your situation and level up…   I listen to Lisa Nichols give a great speech about time and she stated some numbers that I think you might benefit from thinking about…   We all have 24 hours in a day 7 days a week to start each week with… That is 168 hours…168 hours…think about that. Start from solution not the problem. Don't start with, “I have a couple hours after I get home from work or only time on the weekend”. Start from the source of your assets…   If you work a 40 hour job and you sleep 8 hours a night (56), that is 96 hours total… What are you doing with the other 72 hours per week?  think about that…. What are you doing with the other 8-10 hours per day??   Sure there are kids, second jobs, and many other true priorities in life… so lets deduct 4 hours a day for family and 4 hours a day for your side hustle and/or 2nd job… That still leaves a couple hours a day… Do your realize how much you could do with an extra 1 hour per day put toward your Goal and Dreams…???   But where do most of us spend our time: -facebook and instagram -tick tock -surfing the web -online shopping *when was the last time you looked at your screen time?  look at it…. Let's really understand where we are investing our greatest asset (TIME)   How about TV?  How much do you watch Netflix or On Demand TV….? -we even convince ourselves that we are being more productive by not watching commercials...really? -seriously…do you realize that you are putting your Dreams, Goals, Talents on hold for nothing but short term relaxation…?   I want to draw something to your attention that you may have not considered… In addition to wasting time, you are also allowing your subconscious mind to be Programmed. That's right, you think you are not spending time working on YOU, but you actually ARE. The problem is that you are Programming YOU to move further from your goals and dreams.. You are Programming YOU to become more fearful, more dependent, more anxious, more stressed… MORE Bought into the Story that is being told around you…Think about that for a moment…   Our thoughts create our life.   Our thoughts drive the feelings and emotions and actions that we do. Our thoughts and feelings and actions create our experience which solidify and build our beliefs…   You are ALLOWING your spare time to "Involuntarily" be Programmed to work against you… …or should I say you are Voluntarily allowing yourself to Give up on Your Goals and Dreams (subconsciously).   Listen... We all have TIME to spend.  We all have the CHOICE to spend our time wisely and in the pursuit of a worthwhile goal of some kind…   I encourage you to use your time for productive endeavors. I encourage you to use your time to experience life. I encourage you to use your time to create the BEST versions of yourself. Stop being selfish with your time and spending it on yourself.  Give it in service to others. The beautiful thing about this concept is that you can share your time and talents in the service to others and get PAID along the way (in money or other things).  You can create an amazing life if you will just spend your time wisely…   Last thought…learn to understand the power of compounding your time just like your money. Don't look for the short term payout.

I'm back…Excited to talk with you today about Your Time...Your Direction...Your Focus...Ultimately, Your Life.   Quote of the day:  "He who knows he has enough is rich"….Loa-tzu   I have always had mixed emotions about this quote because I felt it meant to settle… But the more I contemplate this quote, the more I understand it… It's been said that the secret to Happiness is NOT “having what you want” but “wanting what you have”.   I believe that if we enter a constant state (as ed mylett would say) of Blissful Dissatisfaction, then we are not saying we are content with our current state…we are happy and grateful for what we have while simultaneously pursuing a better version of our selves and a better life. I don't mean better as in more money, fame, recognition, etc (although you may have as much of that you as desire in life too).  I mean having a better life of happiness, fulfillment, helping others, and yes success and prosperity.   Anyway…there is more to these daily quotes than lies on the surface if you will think about them each day and use them to better your life.   So, Today's topic is on Time….   We talk a lot about wealth, but sometime we forget that our Time is the Greatest Asset we have. We forget that regardless of how much money, talent or opportunity you have, we all have 24 hours in a day. But, It's is how you spend your asset of time that matters the most. How are you spending your TIME? Are you investing your time or are you wasting it? Are you taking your “free time” and wasting it on “rest, netflix, catching up on sleep, and other thing that rob you of the dreams you have in life?”   Remember the quote a few days ago..”laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired”…I think we convince ourselves (program ourselves) to think we need rest when what we really need is to achieve Growth, our Dreams, and Fulfill our Purpose... Time is the great equalizer in the world of Success, Prosperity and Happiness. We all have the same 24 hours in a day.   I know what you are thinking and what is coming up for you in your head right now... -I have job or two or three that take my whole day -I have kids, family and responsibilities others don't have -I wasn't given the same environment, opportunities, and things others have -I am not as skilled or talented as the next person Excuse, Excuse, Excuse….Yes, there are some people and situations that are different or have a bit of an advantage, but how You view your circumstances determines your outcome.   Wayne Dyer says, “when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change” I believe this without a doubt…   So, you can either choose to believe that you are overwhelmed, overloaded, stressed and under the gun or you can choose to accept your situation and level up…   I listen to Lisa Nichols give a great speech about time and she stated some numbers that I think you might benefit from thinking about…   We all have 24 hours in a day 7 days a week to start each week with… That is 168 hours…168 hours…think about that. Start from solution not the problem. Don't start with, “I have a couple hours after I get home from work or only time on the weekend”. Start from the source of your assets…   If you work a 40 hour job and you sleep 8 hours a night (56), that is 96 hours total… What are you doing with the other 72 hours per week?  think about that…. What are you doing with the other 8-10 hours per day??   Sure there are kids, second jobs, and many other true priorities in life… so lets deduct 4 hours a day for family and 4 hours a day for your side hustle and/or 2nd job… That still leaves a couple hours a day… Do your realize how much you could do with an extra 1 hour per day put toward your Goal and Dreams…???   But where do most of us spend our time: -facebook and instagram -tick tock -surfing the web -online shopping *when was the last time you looked at your screen time?  look at it…. Let's really understand where we are investing our greatest asset (TIME)   How about TV?  How much do you watch Netflix or On Demand TV….? -we even convince ourselves that we are being more productive by not watching commercials...really? -seriously…do you realize that you are putting your Dreams, Goals, Talents on hold for nothing but short term relaxation…?   I want to draw something to your attention that you may have not considered… In addition to wasting time, you are also allowing your subconscious mind to be Programmed. That's right, you think you are not spending time working on YOU, but you actually ARE. The problem is that you are Programming YOU to move further from your goals and dreams.. You are Programming YOU to become more fearful, more dependent, more anxious, more stressed… MORE Bought into the Story that is being told around you…Think about that for a moment…   Our thoughts create our life.   Our thoughts drive the feelings and emotions and actions that we do. Our thoughts and feelings and actions create our experience which solidify and build our beliefs…   You are ALLOWING your spare time to "Involuntarily" be Programmed to work against you… …or should I say you are Voluntarily allowing yourself to Give up on Your Goals and Dreams (subconsciously).   Listen... We all have TIME to spend.  We all have the CHOICE to spend our time wisely and in the pursuit of a worthwhile goal of some kind…   I encourage you to use your time for productive endeavors. I encourage you to use your time to experience life. I encourage you to use your time to create the BEST versions of yourself. Stop being selfish with your time and spending it on yourself.  Give it in service to others. The beautiful thing about this concept is that you can share your time and talents in the service to others and get PAID along the way (in money or other things).  You can create an amazing life if you will just spend your time wisely…   Last thought…learn to understand the power of compounding your time just like your money. Don't look for the short term payout.

John Farrelly, CEO Mental Health Commission, explains his concerns over the increase in the number of people being detained against their will and committed by An Garda Síochána.

In this episode, Mandi Schwab opens up about experiencing multiple miscarriages, early menopause; and she breaks down the IVF process, causes of IVF failure and its heavy toll on physical and mental health.Terms used:Birth control pills: A daily medication that contains 2 hormones (estrogen and progestin) to prevent pregnancy — or manage and suppress heavy periods. Early Menopause (or premature menopause): A loss of normal function of the ovaries before age 40. In early menopause, the ovaries don't produce normal amounts of the hormone estrogen or release eggs regularly.Endometriosis: A medical condition that involves the presence of tissue similar to the uterine lining in abnormal locations. This condition can affect both fertilization of the egg and embryo implantation.Involuntarily childless: Someone who wants children or is open to children but can't have them or unable to have children due to various circumstances.IVF (or In vitro fertilization): In vitro which means outside the body, is a process of fertilization by extracting eggs, retrieving a sperm sample, and then manually combining an egg and sperm in a laboratory dish. The embryo(s) is then transferred to the uterus. Miscarriage: The spontaneous loss of a pregnancy before the 20th week. Ovulation: This occurs when an egg is released from your ovary. When the egg is released, it may or may not be fertilized by sperm. Premature ovarian failure: Also known as primary ovarian insufficiency or early menopause, happens when a woman's ovaries stop working normally before she is 40.Watch this interview on YouTube.com/ChildlessWomenTo support our series, visit www.AsToldByChildlessWomen.com

I've Done The Scarcity Involuntarily. We Don't Live In The Same Town And Because Of Family Priorities, We Can Only See Each Other Two Times A Week. I talk about this today... The Forever Woman - http://theforeverwomanformula.com/

TAP HERE FOR THE PLAYLIST https://open.spotify.com/user/125978498/playlist/0wNGJcwUycVWTdAl1bzJwO?si=3cTMmc23QYa8IhOasGijmA apologies for the editing and the electrical noise in the background...literally nothing went right on this recording Joe hadn't heard Negative Approach which makes me a bad friend Matty Figs may have been eaten by ants. Involuntarily anti-social  mosh retirement shitsplaining "the wave" Pissed Jeans probably know how to fight is Hundreds of AU Tom Schlatter's best band? still searching for that affordable copy of the True Love 7” Boiling Point tho RIP Todd Youth Nazi's are everywhere The amazing draw of Trapped Under Ice thank you Hate 5 Six for everything you do arty and extra Drinking Black Coffee… put me in the grave/second kid Henry Rollins has to have had PTSD SOUL GLO is VITAL truth to power in hardcore… bring it back     To get your copy of the latest issue Sex And Glue Zine visit SEXANDGLUEZINE.com   for contact about booking as a guest on the show or for advertising, please email sexandgluezine@gmail.com   find me on IG @sexandgluezine   Please visit the sponsors essexcoffeeroasters.com (use the promo code SNGZINE10 to get 10 percent off your entire order)   sonixcollaborative.com    

In 2020 I became a stay at home dad.. Involuntarily.. I struggled with the new reality that for the first time since my release from prison, I would no longer be the "bread winner".. A shot to my pride because of the misconceptions I had about what a real man is and how a real man should support his family. Gender roles in 2021 are a no longer typical, and they are no longer the standard but a stereotype. Women are in positions of power, and Men are stay at home dads. Bottom line, there is nothing emasculating about a man who provides for his family. whether it's money or memories or both.. Build Your Community@latroy_tillery @robertsecond53 @dadskillsengaged @tweetfromnext @embracefatherhood@dadandforty @dadsshow @dad_tales @couchdadspodcast @fatherhoodislit @onlyraisingkingsnyc

There seems to be no one with less meaning in their lives than these guys.  In this episode Marc and Kristina discuss the very unfortunate world of the many men (and few women) who consider themselves Involuntarily celibate.  Digressions include forced monogamy, chads and stacys, and why Kristina didn't bring wine.  Please see links below to do more research on your own. An extensive and helpful list of various incel forums:  https://incels.wiki/w/Incelosphere The Surviving Infidelity Forum Kristina references: https://www.survivinginfidelity.com/Default.asp? This is the blog post by Robin Hansen which posits the idea of enforced monogamy: https://www.overcomingbias.com/2018/04/two-types-of-envy.html Rolling Stone Article re: TFW No GF: https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/tfw-no-gf-incel-culture-sxsw-992943/ and the IMDB Page for the film itself: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt11602648/ Thanks to ilaryRhineKlang for posting Also Sprach Zarathustra: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFPwm0e_K98&t=106s Marc mentions the Cave, learn more about that here:  https://www.studiobinder.com/blog/platos-allegory-of-the-cave/.  Mumford and Sons The Cave facts: https://www.songfacts.com/facts/mumford-sons/the-cave --- Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/marc-snediker/support

Huner Emin is a stateless artist from southern Kurdistan. Emin uses art as a tool to express political and social issues in his society. Huner Emin studied western art with a concentration on formalism both in Iraq and the U.S. Join us for this episode as we talk about art school, honor violence, “ayb” culture, thinking in multiple languages, and the importance of having an art community. Nuveen and Huner also talk about their admiration for contemporary artists Hiwa K. and Sarbast Mustafa! Huner also tells us about that one time he did a performance in a mosque… and so much more! Insta: huneremin Website: www.huneremin.com I am a stateless Kurdish artist from south Kurdistan/northern Iraq. My nation is divided among four different countries. Therefore, I use art as a tool to express political and social problems in my society. I studied western art, concentrating on formalism, both in Iraq and in the US. However, I am in constant search for an identity, alternating between western and eastern culture. This parallel thinking was a pursuit of authenticity that led to my art making process. I work predominantly on political subject matters. My ideas develop through planning, reorganizing, and experimenting in various medias. In my conceptual pieces, the audience is juxtaposed between instillation materials and video art. However, my paintings are combinations of abstract forms and Pahlavi writing characters, which I want to resurrect in order to unify the Kurdish language(s). It is an attempt to bring storytelling to the artwork by incorporating calligraphy, as I believe that narrative gives extra dimension to the art as well as being a symbol rediscovering my identity. In Kurdish society, life is overwhelmed with politics. Everybody follows news channels on daily basis, whether in their homes or at the coffee houses. It is hard for me to extract my art from my environment, where I observed political issues. Involuntarily, I find that my art is forming itself. Music Credit: Eyaz Yosif Follow us on our Socials! instagram: @newavepodcast @paellos @fufucreations @nuveenbarwari Twitter: @nuveenbarwari @paellos96 @newavepodcast --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/newave/support

MEN GOING THERE OWN WAY! Also referred to as "MGTOW". Never heard of it? You're not alone.This episode my guest and I explore Men's Rights Activism and the "Manosphere" that houses the different cultural identities ranging from Alpha Males & Pickup Artists all the way across the aisle to Sigma Males & "Incels" or Involuntarily celibate men.

Fr Looney reflects on how God gives and takes away and sometimes He asks us to choose to let go.

Today on the show we have Mark Thompson, co-founder of PayKickstart.In this episode, we talked about how an internal tool their team built ended up being their main product, affiliate programs as a channel for growth, and the challenges they face when it comes to churn & retention.We also discussed how PayKickstart optimizes their onboarding to tackle churn, how they measure its impact, and how to avoid credit card failures by being proactive with your customers. As usual, I'm excited to hear what you think of this episode, and if you have any feedback, I would love to hear from you. You can email me directly on Andrew@churn.fm. Don't forget to follow us on Twitter.

This episode compares the stories of Adam Alsahli, the radical Islamist who attacked the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station, with stories of two Incels, Armando Hernandez, Jr., who shot couples in an Arizona mall, and an unidentified teen who took a machete to women in a Canadian erotic spa. Incels are men who are ‘Involuntarily Celibate’, and hate women for rejecting them - not wanting to be their girlfriend or have sex with them. These stories pose the question: are we using the word ’terrorist’ too loosely? Adam Alsahli, a 20-year-old Syrian-born U.S. citizen, with social media posts supporting terrorists, tried to speed through a security gate at the Naval Air Station and opened fire. Armando Hernandez, Jr., a 20-year-old Incel, wanted to injure couples so they’d feel the pain he feels because of being shunned by women. The prosecutor called him a “self-pitying terrorist.” A 17-year-old Incel, had been charged with murder and attempted murder, but for the first time, Canadian authorities have charged an Incel with terrorism. After hearing these stories, you’ll come to understand how Incels are different from Radical Islamists, and how they are similar - and you can decide if Incels who attack should be charged with terrorism.

I'm back…Excited to talk with you today about Your Time Your Time is a Choice…   Quote of the day:  He who knows he has enough is rich….Loa-tzu   I have always had mixed emotions about this quote because I felt it meant to settle… But the more I contemplate this quote, the more I understand it… It's been said that the secret to Happiness is not “having what you want” but “wanting what you have”.   I believe that if we enter a constant state (as ed mylett would say) of Blissful Dissatisfaction, then we are not content with our current state…we are happy and grateful for what we have while simultaneously pursuing a better version of our selves and a better life. I dont mean better as in more money, fame, recognition, etc (although you may have as much of tha you as desire in life too).  I mean having a better life of happiness, fulfillment, helping others, and yes success and prosperity.   Anyway…more to these quotes than lies on the surface if you will think about them each day.   So, Today's topic is on Time….   We talk a lot about wealth, but sometime we forget that our Time is the Greatest Asset we have. We forget that regardless of how much money, talent or opportunity you have, we all have 24 hours in a day.  It is how you spend your asset of time that matters the most. How are you spending your TIME? Are you investing your time or are you spending it on dumb stuff? Are you taking your “free time” and wasting it on “rest, netflix, catching up on sleep, and other thing that rob you of the dreams you have in life?”   Remember the quote a few days ago..”laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired”…I think we convince ourselves (program ourselves) to think we need rest when what we really need is to achieve Growth, our Dreams, and Fulfill our Purpose... Time is the great equalizer in the world of Success, Prosperity and Happiness. We all have the same 24 hours in a day.   But, George…. -I have job or two or three that take my whole day -I have kids, family and responsibilities others dont have -I wasn't given the same environment, opportunities, and things others have -I am not as skilled or talented as the next person Excuse, Excuse, Excuse….Yes, there are some people and situations that are different or have a bit of an advantage, but how You view your circumstances determines your outcome.   Wayne Dyer says, “when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change” I believe this no doubt…   So, you can either choose to believe that you are overwhelmed, overloaded, stressed and under the gun or you can choose to accept your situation and level up…   I listen to Lisa Nichols give a great speech last week about time and she stated some numbers that I think you might benefit from thinking about…   We all have 24 hours in a day 7 days a week to start each week with… That is 168 hours…168 hours…think about that. Start from solution not the problem. Don't start with, “I have a couple hours after I get home from work or only time on the weekend”. Start from the source of your assets…   If you work a 40 hour job and you sleep 8 hours a night (56), that is 96 hours total… What are you doing with the other 72 hours per week?  think about that…. What are you doing with the other 8-10 hours per day??   Sure there are kids, second jobs, and many other true priorities in life… so lets deduct 4 hours a day for family and 4 hours a day for your side hustle and/or 2nd job… That still leaves a couple hours a day… Do your realize how much you could do with an extra 1 hour per day put toward your Goal and Dreams…???   But where do most of us spend our time: -facebook and instagram -tick tock -surfing the web -online shopping *when was the last time you looked at your screen time?  look at it….Let's discuss this   How about TV?  How much do you watch Netflix or On Demand TV….? -we even convince ourselves that we are being more productive by now watching commercials.. -seriously…do you realize that you are putting your Dreams, Goals, Talents on hold for nothing but short term relaxation…?   I want to draw something to your attention that you may have not considered… In addition to wasting time, you are also allowing your subconscious mind to be Programmed.. That's right, you think you are not spending time working on YOU, but you actually ARE. The problem is that you are Programming YOU to move further from your goals and dreams.. You are Programming YOU to become more fearful, more dependent, more anxious, more stressed… MORE Bought into the Story that is being told around you…Think about that for a moment…   Our thoughts create our life.   Our thoughts drive the feelings and emotions and actions that we do. Our thoughts and feelings and actions create our experience which engrains our beliefs…   You are ALLOWING your spare time to Involuntarily be Programmed to work against you… …or should I say you are Voluntarily allowing yourself to Give up on Your Goals and Dreams (sub).   I believe this… We all have TIME to spend.  We all have the CHOICE to spend our time wisely and in the pursuit of a worthwhile goal of some kind…   I encourage you to use your time for productive endeavors. I encourage you to use your time to experience life. I encourage you to use your time to create the BEST versions of yourself. Stop being selfish with your time and spending it on yourself.  Give it in service to others. The beautiful thing about this concept is that you can share your time and talents in the service to others and get PAID along the way (in money or other things).  You can create an amazing life if you will just spend your time wisely…   Last thought…learn to understand the power of compounding your time just like your money.

I'm back…Excited to talk with you today about Your Time Your Time is a Choice…   Quote of the day:  He who knows he has enough is rich….Loa-tzu   I have always had mixed emotions about this quote because I felt it meant to settle… But the more I contemplate this quote, the more I understand it… It's been said that the secret to Happiness is not “having what you want” but “wanting what you have”.   I believe that if we enter a constant state (as ed mylett would say) of Blissful Dissatisfaction, then we are not content with our current state…we are happy and grateful for what we have while simultaneously pursuing a better version of our selves and a better life. I dont mean better as in more money, fame, recognition, etc (although you may have as much of tha you as desire in life too).  I mean having a better life of happiness, fulfillment, helping others, and yes success and prosperity.   Anyway…more to these quotes than lies on the surface if you will think about them each day.   So, Today's topic is on Time….   We talk a lot about wealth, but sometime we forget that our Time is the Greatest Asset we have. We forget that regardless of how much money, talent or opportunity you have, we all have 24 hours in a day.  It is how you spend your asset of time that matters the most. How are you spending your TIME? Are you investing your time or are you spending it on dumb stuff? Are you taking your “free time” and wasting it on “rest, netflix, catching up on sleep, and other thing that rob you of the dreams you have in life?”   Remember the quote a few days ago..”laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired”…I think we convince ourselves (program ourselves) to think we need rest when what we really need is to achieve Growth, our Dreams, and Fulfill our Purpose... Time is the great equalizer in the world of Success, Prosperity and Happiness. We all have the same 24 hours in a day.   But, George…. -I have job or two or three that take my whole day -I have kids, family and responsibilities others dont have -I wasn't given the same environment, opportunities, and things others have -I am not as skilled or talented as the next person Excuse, Excuse, Excuse….Yes, there are some people and situations that are different or have a bit of an advantage, but how You view your circumstances determines your outcome.   Wayne Dyer says, “when you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change” I believe this no doubt…   So, you can either choose to believe that you are overwhelmed, overloaded, stressed and under the gun or you can choose to accept your situation and level up…   I listen to Lisa Nichols give a great speech last week about time and she stated some numbers that I think you might benefit from thinking about…   We all have 24 hours in a day 7 days a week to start each week with… That is 168 hours…168 hours…think about that. Start from solution not the problem. Don't start with, “I have a couple hours after I get home from work or only time on the weekend”. Start from the source of your assets…   If you work a 40 hour job and you sleep 8 hours a night (56), that is 96 hours total… What are you doing with the other 72 hours per week?  think about that…. What are you doing with the other 8-10 hours per day??   Sure there are kids, second jobs, and many other true priorities in life… so lets deduct 4 hours a day for family and 4 hours a day for your side hustle and/or 2nd job… That still leaves a couple hours a day… Do your realize how much you could do with an extra 1 hour per day put toward your Goal and Dreams…???   But where do most of us spend our time: -facebook and instagram -tick tock -surfing the web -online shopping *when was the last time you looked at your screen time?  look at it….Let's discuss this   How about TV?  How much do you watch Netflix or On Demand TV….? -we even convince ourselves that we are being more productive by now watching commercials.. -seriously…do you realize that you are putting your Dreams, Goals, Talents on hold for nothing but short term relaxation…?   I want to draw something to your attention that you may have not considered… In addition to wasting time, you are also allowing your subconscious mind to be Programmed.. That's right, you think you are not spending time working on YOU, but you actually ARE. The problem is that you are Programming YOU to move further from your goals and dreams.. You are Programming YOU to become more fearful, more dependent, more anxious, more stressed… MORE Bought into the Story that is being told around you…Think about that for a moment…   Our thoughts create our life.   Our thoughts drive the feelings and emotions and actions that we do. Our thoughts and feelings and actions create our experience which engrains our beliefs…   You are ALLOWING your spare time to Involuntarily be Programmed to work against you… …or should I say you are Voluntarily allowing yourself to Give up on Your Goals and Dreams (sub).   I believe this… We all have TIME to spend.  We all have the CHOICE to spend our time wisely and in the pursuit of a worthwhile goal of some kind…   I encourage you to use your time for productive endeavors. I encourage you to use your time to experience life. I encourage you to use your time to create the BEST versions of yourself. Stop being selfish with your time and spending it on yourself.  Give it in service to others. The beautiful thing about this concept is that you can share your time and talents in the service to others and get PAID along the way (in money or other things).  You can create an amazing life if you will just spend your time wisely…   Last thought…learn to understand the power of compounding your time just like your money.

A grab bag of podcaster fun... Guest: Chris Green, GravityBeard podcast Disclaimer: Jessie, Oz-9 podcastPromos: Tone Deaf: A Theatre Nerd's Guide for their Musically Challenged Spouse and Many RealmsArtwork: Erin Schwartz “You Matter” donations/drawing: https://podcastsmatter.home.blog Discover Pods Awards suggestions:Most Innovative -- Ear Hustle ..... True Crime -- Disgraceland ..... Sports -- Fish Nerds ..... Interview Style -- holy crap that's me ..... History -- The Story Behind ..... Kids & Family -- Mirths & Monsters or Varmints ..... TV & Movies -- Epic Film Guys ..... Fiction/Audio Drama -- Girl in Space ..... Arts -- Oh No! Lit Class ..... Health & Fitness -- Hate to Weight ..... People's Choice -- Dark Poutine Ask Kate Anything survey here!! Facebook group: The AsylumCast Junkie Discord server: https://discord.gg/V287EFn Network: Himalaya (presented by Heather, Sunshine & PowerCuts)Sponsor: Bath By Bex (code CBDkate for 15% off), Sudio Sweden headphones (code IWB15 for 15% off)Merch: https://bit.ly/iwbpodcastmerchPatreon: https://www.patreon.com/IWBpodcastMusic: DFA by OnlyMeith

@MrLyndaBlock: What were your favourite treats to get back when you were a kid and trick or treating? Mine were Roy of the rover bars, Desperate  Dan bars or tick tock toffee bars

This week we finish up our traumatic jaunt through Judges, with chapters 20 and 21. The Benjamites sorta pay for their sins last week, but it's really, really weird. Bible talk starts at 14:55.

People with psychotic mental illnesses are more vulnerable to radicalization - hear why, and look at new rules requiring psychiatrists to report such patients, and two cases of terrorists on trial who have psychiatric problems. It was determined, in France, that 1/3 of the people who were allegedly radicalized had psychological disorders. So, the French Minister of Health has just decreed that patients committed involuntarily to a psychiatric hospital must have their name and date of birth reported, so they can be compared to the profiles on the Terrorism Prevention and Terrorization Reporting file - to see if there’s a match. This controversial decree is currently being appealed, and is not unlike the U.S. controversy regarding whether psychiatrists should report patients who would be dangerous if they possessed guns. But, terrorists with psychiatric disorders are not only in France. In Chicago, Adel Daoud was just sentenced to 16 years in prison for having pressed a detonator on what he thought was a car bomb, but was actually a fake bomb from an undercover FBI agent who had been surveilling him. Originally, the judge declared him mentally incompetent to stand trial because Daoud believed his lawyers and the judge were lizards and had other delusions. After treatment, at sentencing, he apologized and said he realizes he was crazy during the time he plotted terror attacks. In Arizona, coworkers of Ismail Hamed had noticed his odd behavior, such as using his employee radio to shout “We are under attack!” and standing on a grocery belt yelling, “Bomb!” But, it wasn’t until he called 911 and swore allegiance to ISIS that he came to authorities’ attention in regard to terrorism. He is charged with assaulting a sheriff and with spreading Islamic State propaganda, such as his admiration of Omar Mateen, the Pulse Nightclub terrorist, and video from cleric Anwar al-Awlaki.

NOMINATE TalkItOut Podcast for the "Best Of Memphis" award: bit.ly/2y3l0jx In this episode Gabby, KT and Joy discuss: -The death of XXXtentacion and our feelings about him -INCELS (Involuntary Celibate people) and if people have an obligation to give them a chance -Are girls really only attracted to the bad boys? -Why is there so much stigma around breast feeding in public Thank you so much for listening to the episode! Please share with a friend! SOCIAL MEDIA facebook.com/talkitoutpodcast twitter.com/talkitoutpodcast instagram.com/talkitout_pod

Is the Internet trying to keep us sad and angry? There is a group of irate online males called Incels (involuntarily celibate) who believe that they are entitled to sex with women. Our panel of 20 somethings have travelled to the outer reaches of internet darkness and returned to report about it. We also go in search of online altruism, moral integrity and conscientious values. We may have to google it. Where and when did the internet devolve into a desperate corporate scramble to possess our souls?

The guys find pleasure in the displeasure white supremists find with their DNA results from tests like 23 and Me, and Ancestry DNA. A hardcore soccer fan from South America goes to the extreme to support his team, and what is involuntarily celibate? It sounds like some folks ain't got no game. All that, more and a Champion's League update. 

Weeeeellllcommmme to Meeeeeereeee Rhetoooooric! It’s our annual Halloween episode, which means a little bit of the people, ideas and movements who have shaped rhetorical history, but mostly a ghost story. This year, we’re going with our first not-MR-James story. Don’t worry--there are still intials--but first--to business.   If you’re going to talk about ghost stories and influential thinkers, you won’t dig long until you come across Freud’s contribution, a little piece called “The Uncanny.” You might not peg Sigmund Freud as a connoisseur of boogeymen, but he was capital-f freaked capital-o out by ETA Hoffmann’s story “The Sandman.” If Hoffmann’s name sounds familiar, it’s probably because you know him from writing the story of the Nutcracker ballet. Look at that--our annual tradition here at Mere Rhetoric just founds 3-degrees of separation to every ballet company’s annual tradition! Anyway, the Sandman is a freaky sci-fi horror tale that eventually inspired another ballet called Coppelia. The original is even more terrifying. Don’t worry--it’s coming up after we talk about Freud. Right now all you need to know is that the line between reality and madness is thin, thin and shaky.   Freud was, as you might expect, very into that. He draws heavily on a German pun--evidentally heimlich means both homey or familiar and secret or hidden. In terms of the uncanny, things are most terrifying when we think we’re playing in the realm of our daylight reality and then suddenly the rules change. No one, for example, is horrified when Snow White RISES FROM THE DEAD, because we already are accepting that we’re in a fairy tale with, like, singing animals who do housework. As Freud says, ““as soon as it is given an arbitrary and unrealistic setting in fiction it is apt to lose its quality of the uncanny” (19). And what are these eerie occurances? Because Freud is a master classifier, they can be split across “either when repressed infantile complexes have been revived by some impression, or when the primitive beliefs we have surmounted seem once more to be confirmed (17)--so he believes either the terrors of childhood or of primitive man resurface in our horror stories. The parts of us that we repress resurface as ghosts and witches and we confront them in physical manifestations separate from us. For example, the supernatural power of, like, a giant or a firestarter, relates to our own narcissistic impulses to dominate others. Freud goes through and gives a catalogue of things that are uncanny:   dismembering the double living dolls repetition (like seeing the same number all day) evil eye ghosts witchcraft madness As you listen to this year’s Halloween episode, The Sandman, you can point out where these pop up--see if you can get Uncanny Bingo!   NATHANEL TO LOTHAIRE Certainly you must all be uneasy that I have not written for so long - so very long. My mother, am sure, is angry, and Clara will believe that I am passing my time in dissipation, entirely forgetful of her fair, angelic image that is so deeply imprinted on my heart. Such, however, is not the case. Daily and hourly I think of you all; and the dear form of my lovely Clara passes before me in my dreams, smiling upon me with her bright eyes as she did when I was among you. But how can I write to you in the distracted mood which has been disturbing my every thought! A horrible thing has crossed my path. Dark forebodings of a cruel, threatening fate tower over me like dark clouds, which no friendly sunbeam can penetrate. I will now tell you what has occurred. I must do so - that I plainly see - the mere thought of it sets me laughing like a madman. Ah, my dear Lothaire, how shall I begin ? How shall I make you in any way realize that what happened to me a few days ago can really have had such a fatal effect on my life? If you were here you could see for yourself; but, as it is, you will certainly take me for a crazy fellow who sees ghosts. To be brief, this horrible occurrence, the painful impression of which I am in vain endeavoring to throw off, is nothing more than this - that some days ago, namely on the 30th of October at twelve o'clock noon, a barometer-dealer came into my room and offered me his wares. I bought nothing, and threatened to throw him downstairs, upon which he took himself off of his own accord. Only circumstances of the most peculiar kind, you will suspect, and exerting the greatest influence over my life, can have given any import to this occurrence. Moreover, the person of that unlucky dealer must have had an evil effect upon me. So it was, indeed. I must use every endeavor to collect myself, and patiently and quietly tell you so much of my early youth as will bring the picture plainly and clearly before your eyes. As I am about to begin, I fancy that I hear you laughing, and Clara exclaiming, 'Childish stories indeed!' Laugh at me, I beg of you, laugh with all your heart. But, oh God! my hair stands on end, and it is in mad despair that I seem to be inviting your laughter, as Franz Moor did Daniel's in Schiller's play. But to my story. Excepting at dinner-time I and my brothers and sisters used to see my father very little during the day. He was, perhaps, busily engaged at his ordinary profession. After supper, which was served according to the old custom at seven o'clock, we all went with my mother into my father's study, and seated ourselves at the round table, where he would smoke and drink his large glass of beer. Often he told us wonderful stories, and grew so warm over them that his pipe continually went out. Whereupon I had to light it again with a burning spill, which I thought great sport. Often, too, he would give us picture-books, and sit in his arm-chair, silent and thoughtful, puffing out such thick clouds of smoke that we all seemed to be swimming in the clouds. On such evenings as these my mother was very melancholy, and immediately the clock struck nine she would say: 'Now, children, to bed - to bed! The Sandman's coming, I can see.' And indeed on each occasion I used to hear something with a heavy, slow step come thudding up the stairs. That I thought must be the Sandman. Once when the dull noise of footsteps was particularly terrifying I asked my mother as she bore us away: 'Mamma, who is this naughty Sandman, who always drives us away from Papa? What does he look like?' 'There is no Sandman, dear child,' replied my mother. 'When I say the Sandman's coming, I only mean that you're sleepy and can't keep your eyes open - just as if sane had been sprinkled into them.' This answer of my mother's did not satisfy me - nay, the thought soon ripened in my childish mind the she only denied the Sandman's existence to prevent our being terrified of him. Certainly I always heard him coming up the stairs. Most curious to know more of this Sandman and his particular connection with children, I at last asked the old woman who looked after my youngest sister what sort of man he was. 'Eh, Natty,' said she, 'don't you know that yet? He is a wicked man, who comes to children when they won't go to bed, and throws a handful of sand into their eyes, so that they start out bleeding from their heads. He puts their eyes in a bag and carries them to the crescent moon to feed his own children, who sit in the nest up there. They have crooked beaks like owls so that they can pick up the eyes of naughty human children.' A most frightful picture of the cruel Sandman became impressed upon my mind; so that when in the evening I heard the noise on the stairs I trembled with agony and alarm, and my mother could get nothing out of me but the cry, 'The Sandman, the Sandman!' stuttered forth through my tears. I then ran into the bedroom, where the frightful apparition of the Sandman terrified me during the whole night. I had already grown old enough to realize that the nurse's tale about him and the nest of children in the crescent moon could not be quite true, but nevertheless this Sandman remained a fearful spectre, and I was seized with the utmost horror when I heard him once, not only come up the stairs, but violently force my father's door open and go in. Sometimes he stayed away for a long period, but after that his visits came in close succession. This lasted for years, but I could not accustom myself to the terrible goblin; the image of the dreadful Sandman did not become any fainter. His intercourse with my father began more and more to occupy my fancy. Yet an unconquerable fear prevented me from asking my father about it. But if I, I myself, could penetrate the mystery and behold the wondrous Sandman - that was the wish which grew upon me with the years. The Sandman had introduced me to thoughts of the marvels and wonders which so readily gain a hold on a child's mind. I enjoyed nothing better than reading or hearing horrible stories of goblins, witches, pigmies, etc.; but most horrible of all was the Sandman, whom I was always drawing with chalk or charcoal on the tables, cupboards and walls, in the oddest and most frightful shapes. When I was ten years old my mother removed me from the night nursery into a little chamber situated in a corridor near my father's room. Still, as before, we were obliged to make a speedy departure on the stroke of nine, as soon as the unknown step sounded on the stair. From my little chamber I could hear how he entered my father's room, and then it was that I seemed to detect a thin vapor with a singular odor spreading through the house. Stronger and stronger, with my curiosity, grew my resolution somehow to make the Sandman's acquaintance. Often I sneaked from my room to the corridor when my mother had passed, but never could I discover anything; for the Sandman had always gone in at the door when I reached the place where I might have seen him. At last, driven by an irresistible impulse, I resolved to hide myself in my father's room and await his appearance there. From my father's silence and my mother's melancholy face I perceived one evening that the Sandman was coming. I, therefore, feigned great weariness, left the room before nine o'clock, and hid myself in a corner close to the door. The house-door groaned and the heavy, slow, creaking step came up the passage and towards the stairs. My mother passed me with the rest of the children. Softly, very softly, I opened the door of my father's room. He was sitting, as usual, stiff end silent, with his back to the door. He did not perceive me, and I swiftly darted into the room and behind the curtain which covered an open cupboard close to the door, in which my father's clothes were hanging. The steps sounded nearer and nearer - there was a strange coughing and scraping and murmuring without. My heart trembled with anxious expectation. A sharp step close, very close, to the door - the quick snap of the latch, and the door opened with a rattling noise. Screwing up my courage to the uttermost, I cautiously peeped out. The Sandman was standing before my father in the middle of the room, the light of the candles shone full upon his face. The Sandman, the fearful Sandman, was the old advocate Coppelius, who had often dined with us. But the most hideous form could not have inspired me with deeper horror than this very Coppelius. Imagine a large broad-shouldered man, with a head disproportionately big, a face the color of yellow ochre, a pair of bushy grey eyebrows, from beneath which a pair of green cat's eyes sparkled with the most penetrating luster, and with a large nose curved over his upper lip. His wry mouth was often twisted into a malicious laugh, when a couple of dark red spots appeared upon his cheeks, and a strange hissing sound was heard through his gritted teeth. Coppelius always appeared in an ashen-gray coat, cut in old fashioned style, with waistcoat and breeches of the same color, while his stockings were black, and his shoes adorned with agate buckles. His little peruke scarcely reached farther than the crown of his head, his curls stood high above his large red ears, and a broad hair-bag projected stiffly from his neck, so that the silver clasp which fastened his folded cravat might be plainly seen. His whole figure was hideous and repulsive, but most disgusting to us children were his coarse brown hairy fists. Indeed we did not like to eat anything he had touched with them. This he had noticed, and it was his delight, under some pretext or other, to touch a piece of cake or some nice fruit, that our kind mother might quietly have put on our plates, just for the pleasure of seeing us turn away with tears in our eyes, in disgust and abhorrence, no longer able to enjoy the treat intended for us. He acted in the same manner on holidays, when my father gave us a little glass of sweet wine. Then would he swiftly put his hand over it, or perhaps even raise the glass to his blue lips, laughing most devilishly, and we could only express our indignation by silent sobs. He always called us the little beasts; we dared not utter a sound when he was present, end we heartily cursed the ugly, unkind man who deliberately marred our slightest pleasures. My mother seemed to hate the repulsive Coppelius as much as we did, since as soon as he showed himself her liveliness, her open and cheerful nature, were changed for a gloomy solemnity. My father behaved towards him as though he were a superior being, whose bad manners were to be tolerated and who was to be kept in good humor at any cost. He need only give the slightest hint, and favorite dishes were cooked, the choicest wines served. When I now saw this Coppelius, the frightful and terrific thought took possession of my soul, that indeed no one but he could be the Sandman. But the Sandman was no longer the bogy of a nurse's tale, who provided the owl's nest in the crescent moon with children's eyes. No, he was a hideous, spectral monster, who brought with him grief, misery and destruction - temporal and eternal - wherever he appeared. I was riveted to the spot, as if enchanted. At the risk of being discovered and, as I plainly foresaw, of being severely punished, I remained with my head peeping through the curtain. My father received Coppelius with solemnity. 'Now to our work!' cried the latter in a harsh, grating voice, as he flung off his coat. My father silently and gloomily drew off his dressing gown, and both attired themselves in long black frocks. Whence they took these I did not see. My father opened the door of what I had always thought to be a cupboard. But I now saw that it was no cupboard, but rather a black cavity in which there was a little fireplace. Coppelius went to it, and a blue flame began to crackle up on the hearth. All sorts of strange utensils lay around. Heavens! As my old father stooped down to the fire, he looked quite another man. Some convulsive pain seemed to have distorted his mild features into a repulsive, diabolical countenance. He looked like Coppelius, whom I saw brandishing red-hot tongs, which he used to take glowing masses out of the thick smoke; which objects he afterwards hammered. I seemed to catch a glimpse of human faces lying around without any eyes - but with deep holes instead. 'Eyes here' eyes!' roared Coppelius tonelessly. Overcome by the wildest terror, I shrieked out and fell from my hiding place upon the floor. Coppelius seized me and, baring his teeth, bleated out, 'Ah - little wretch - little wretch!' Then he dragged me up and flung me on the hearth, where the fire began to singe my hair. 'Now we have eyes enough - a pretty pair of child's eyes,' he whispered, and, taking some red-hot grains out of the flames with his bare hands, he was about to sprinkle them in my eyes. My father upon this raised his hands in supplication, crying: 'Master, master, leave my Nathaniel his eyes!' Whereupon Coppelius answered with a shrill laugh: 'Well, let the lad have his eyes and do his share of the world's crying, but we will examine the mechanism of his hands and feet.' And then he seized me so roughly that my joints cracked, and screwed off my hands and feet, afterwards putting them back again, one after the other. 'There's something wrong here,' he mumbled. 'But now it's as good as ever. The old man has caught the idea!' hissed and lisped Coppelius. But all around me became black, a sudden cramp darted through my bones and nerves - and I lost consciousness. A gentle warm breath passed over my face; I woke as from the sleep of death. My mother had been stooping over me. 'Is the Sandman still there?' I stammered. 'No, no, my dear child, he has gone away long ago - he won't hurt you!' said my mother, kissing her darling, as he regained his senses. Why should I weary you, my dear Lothaire, with diffuse details, when I have so much more to tell ? Suffice it to say that I had been discovered eavesdropping and ill-used by Coppelius. Agony and terror had brought on delirium and fever, from which I lay sick for several weeks. 'Is the Sandman still there?' That was my first sensible word and the sign of my amendment - my recovery. I have only to tell you now of this most frightful moment in all my youth, and you will be convinced that it is no fault of my eyes that everything seems colorless to me. You will, indeed, know that a dark fatality has hung over my life a gloomy veil of clouds, which I shall perhaps only tear away in death. Coppelius was no more to be seen; it was said he had left the town. About a year might have elapsed, and we were sitting, as of old, at the round table. My father was very cheerful, and was entertaining us with stories about his travels in his youth; when, as the clock struck nine, we heard the house-door groan on its hinges, and slow steps, heavy as lead, creaked through the passage and up the stairs. 'That is Coppelius,' said my mother, turning pale. 'Yes! - that is Coppelius'' repeated my father in a faint, broken voice. The tears started to my mother's eyes. 'But father - father!' she cried, 'must it be so?' 'He is coming for the last time, I promise you,' was the answer. 'Only go now, go with the children - go - go to bed. Good night!' I felt as if I were turned to cold, heavy stone - my breath stopped. My mother caught me by the arm as I stood immovable. 'Come, come, Nathaniel!' I allowed myself to be led, and entered my chamber! 'Be quiet - be quiet - go to bed - go to sleep!' cried my mother after me; but tormented by restlessness and an inward anguish perfectly indescribable, I could not close my eyes. The hateful, abominable Coppelius stood before me with fiery eyes, and laughed maliciously at me. It was in vain that I endeavored to get rid of his image. About midnight there was a frightful noise, like the firing of a gun. The whole house resounded. There was a rattling and rustling by my door, and the house door was closed with a violent bang. 'That is Coppelius !' I cried, springing out of bed in terror. Then there was a shriek, as of acute, inconsolable grief. I darted into my father's room; the door was open, a suffocating smoke rolled towards me, and the servant girl cried: 'Ah, my master, my master!' On the floor of the smoking hearth lay my father dead, with his face burned, blackened and hideously distorted - my sisters were shrieking and moaning around him - and my mother had fainted. 'Coppelius! - cursed devil! You have slain my father!' I cried, and lost my senses. When, two days afterwards, my father was laid in his coffin, his features were again as mild and gentle as they had been in his life. My soul was comforted by the thought that his compact with the satanic Coppelius could not have plunged him into eternal perdition. The explosion had awakened the neighbors, the occurrence had become common talk, and had reached the ears of the magistracy, who wished to make Coppelius answerable. He had, however, vanished from the spot, without leaving a trace. If I tell you, my dear friend, that the barometer-dealer was the accursed Coppelius himself, you will not blame me for regarding so unpropitious a phenomenon as the omen of some dire calamity. He was dressed differently, but the figure and features of Coppelius are too deeply imprinted in my mind for an error in this respect to be possible. Besides, Coppelius has not even altered his name. He describes himself, I am told, as a Piedmontese optician, and calls himself Giuseppe Coppola. I am determined to deal with him, and to avenge my father's death, be the issue what it may. Tell my mother nothing of the hideous monster's appearance. Remember me to my dear sweet Clara, to whom I will write in a calmer mood. Farewell. CLARA TO NATHANIEL It is true that you have not written to me for a long time; but, nevertheless, I believe that I am still in your mind and thoughts. For assuredly you were thinking of me most intently when, designing to send your last letter to my brother Lothaire, you directed it to me instead of to him. I joyfully opened the letter, and did not perceive my error till I came to the words: 'Ah, my dear Lothaire.' NO, by rights I should have read no farther, but should have handed over the letter to my brother. Although you have often, in your childish teasing mood, charged me with having such a quiet, womanish, steady disposition, that, even if the house were about to fall in, I should smooth down a wrong fold in the window curtain in a most ladylike manner before I ran away, I can hardly tell you how your letter shocked me. I could scarcely breathe-----the light danced before my eyes. Ah, my dear Nathaniel, how could such a horrible thing have crossed your path ? To be parted from you, never to see you again - the thought darted through my breast like a burning dagger. I read on and on. Your description of the repulsive Coppelius is terrifying. I learned for the first time the violent manner of your good old father's death. My brother Lothaire, to whom I surrendered the letter, sought to calm me, but in vain. The fatal barometer dealer, Giuseppe Coppola, followed me at every step; and I am almost ashamed to confess that he disturbed my healthy and usually peaceful sleep with all sorts of horrible visions. Yet soon even the next day - I was quite changed again. Do not be offended, dearest one, if Lothaire tells you that in spite of your strange fears that Coppelius will in some manner injure you, I am in the same cheerful and unworried mood as ever. I must honestly confess that, in my opinion, all the terrible things of which you speak occurred merely in your own mind, and had little to do with the actual external world. Old Coppelius may have been repulsive enough, but his hatred of children was what really caused the abhorrence you children felt towards him. In your childish mind the frightful Sandman in the nurse's tale was naturally associated with old Coppelius. Why, even if you had not believed in the Sandman, Coppelius would still have seemed to you a monster, especially dangerous to children. The awful business which he carried on at night with your father was no more than this: that they were making alchemical experiments in secret, which much distressed your mother since, besides a great deal of money being wasted, your father's mind was filled with a fallacious desire after higher wisdom, and so alienated from his family - as they say is always the case with such experimentalists. Your father, no doubt, occasioned his own death, by some act of carelessness of which Coppelius was completely guiltless. Let me tell you that I yesterday asked our neighbor, the apothecary, whether such a sudden and fatal explosion was possible in these chemical experiments? 'Certainly,' he replied and, after his fashion, told me at great length and very circumstantially how such an event might take place, uttering a number of strange-sounding names which I am unable to recollect. Now, I know you will be angry with your Clara; you will say that her cold nature is impervious to any ray of the mysterious, which often embraces man with invisible arms; that she only sees the variegated surface of the world, and is as delighted as a silly child at some glittering golden fruit, which contains within it a deadly poison. Ah ! my dear Nathaniel! Can you not then believe that even in open, cheerful, careless minds may dwell the suspicion of some dread power which endeavors to destroy us in our own selves ? Forgive me, if I, a silly girl, presume in any manner to present to you my thoughts on such an internal struggle. I shall not find the right words, of course, and you will laugh at me, not because my thoughts are foolish, but because I express them so clumsily. If there is a dark and hostile power, laying its treacherous toils within us, by which it holds us fast and draws us along the path of peril and destruction, which we should not otherwise have trod; if, I say there is such a power, it must form itself inside us and out of ourselves, indeed; it must become identical with ourselves. For it is only in this condition that we can believe in it, and grant it the room which it requires to accomplish its secret work. Now, if we have a mind which is sufficiently firm, sufficiently strengthened by the joy of life, always to recognize this strange enemy as such, and calmly to follow the path of our own inclination and calling, then the dark power will fail in its attempt to gain a form that shall be a reflection of ourselves. Lothaire adds that if we have willingly yielded ourselves up to the dark powers, they are known often to impress upon our minds any strange, unfamiliar shape which the external world has thrown in our way; so that we ourselves kindle the spirit, which we in our strange delusion believe to be speaking to us. It is the phantom of our own selves, the close relationship with which, and its deep operation on our mind, casts us into hell or transports us into heaven. You see, dear Nathaniel, how freely Lothaire and I are giving our opinion on the subject of the dark powers; which subject, to judge by my difficulties in writing down. its most important features, appears to be a complicated one. Lothaire's last words I do not quite comprehend. I can only suspect what he means, and yet I feel as if it were all very true. Get the gruesome advocate Coppelius, and the barometer-dealer, Giuseppe Coppola, quite out of your head, I beg of you. Be convinced that these strange fears have no power over you, and that it is only a belief in their hostile influence that can make them hostile in reality. If the great disturbance in your mind did not speak from every line of your letter, if your situation did not give me the deepest pain, I could joke about the Sandman-Advocate and the barometer dealer Coppelius. Cheer up, I have determined to play the part of your guardian-spirit. If the ugly Coppelius takes it into his head to annoy you in your dreams, I'll scare him away with loud peals of laughter. I am not a bit afraid of him nor of his disgusting hands; he shall neither spoil my sweetmeats as an Advocate, nor my eyes as a Sandman. Ever yours, my dear Nathaniel. NATHANIEL TO LOTHAIRE I am very sorry that in consequence of the error occasioned by my distracted state of mind, Clara broke open the letter intended for you, and read it. She has written me a very profound philosophical epistle, in which she proves, at great length, that Coppelius and Coppola only exist in my own mind, and are phantoms of myself, which will be dissipated directly I recognize them as such. Indeed, it is quite incredible that the mind which so often peers out of those bright, smiling, childish eyes with all the charm of a dream, could make such intelligent professorial definitions. She cites you - you, it seems have been talking about me. I suppose you read her logical lectures, so that she may learn to separate and sift all matters acutely. No more of that, please. Besides, it is quite certain that the barometer-dealer, Giuseppe Coppola, is not the advocate Coppelius. I attend the lectures of the professor of physics, who has lately arrived. His name is the same as that of the famous natural philosopher Spalanzani, and he is of Italian origin. He has known Coppola for years and, moreover, it is clear from his accent that he is really a Piedmontese. Coppelius was a German, but I think no honest one. Calmed I am not, and though you and Clara may consider me a gloomy visionary, I cannot get rid of the impression which the accursed face of Coppelius makes upon me. I am glad that Coppola has left the town - so Spalanzani says. This professor is a strange fellow - a little round man with high cheek-bones, a sharp nose, pouting lips and little, piercing eyes. Yet you will get a better notion of him than from this description, if you look at the portrait of Cagliostro, drawn by Chodowiecki in one of the Berlin annuals; Spalanzani looks like that exactly. I lately went up his stairs, and perceived that the curtain, which was generally drawn completely over a glass door, left a little opening on one side. I know not what curiosity impelled me to look through. A very tall and slender lady, extremely well-proportioned and most splendidly attired, sat in the room by a little table on which she had laid her arms, her hands being folded together. She sat opposite the door, so that I could see the whole of her angelic countenance. She did not appear to see me, and indeed there was something fixed about her eyes as if, I might almost say, she had no power of sight. It seemed to me that she was sleeping with her eyes open. I felt very uncomfortable, and therefore I slunk away into the lecture-room close at hand. Afterwards I learned that the form I had seen was that of Spalanzani's daughter Olympia, whom he keeps confined in a very strange and barbarous manner, so that no one can approach her. After all, there may be something the matter with her; she is half-witted perhaps, or something of the kind. But why should I write you all this? I could have conveyed it better and more circumstantially by word of mouth. For I shall see you in a fortnight. I must again behold my dear, sweet angelic Clara. My evil mood will then be dispersed, though I must confess that it has been struggling for mastery over me ever since her sensible but vexing letter. Therefore I do not write to her today. A thousand greetings, etc.   Nothing more strange and chimerical can be imagined than the fate of my poor friend, the young student Nathaniel, which I, gracious reader, have undertaken to tell you. Have you ever known something that has completely filled your heart, thoughts and senses, to the exclusion of every other object? There was a burning fermentation within you; your blood seethed like a molten glow through your veins, sending a higher color to your cheeks. Your glance was strange, as if you were seeking in empty space forms invisible to all other eyes, and your speech flowed away into dark sighs. Then your friends asked you: 'What is it, my dear sir?' 'What is the matter?' And you wanted to draw the picture in your mind in all its glowing tints, in all its light and shade, and labored hard to find words only to begin. You thought that you should crowd together in the very first sentence all those wonderful, exalted, horrible, comical, frightful events, so as to strike every hearer at once as with an electric shock. But every word, every thing that takes the form of speech, appeared to you colorless, cold and dead. You hunt and hunt, and stutter and stammer, and your friends' sober questions blow like icy wind upon your internal fire until it is almost out. Whereas if, like a bold painter, you had first drawn an outline of the internal picture with a few daring strokes, you might with small trouble have laid on the colors brighter and brighter, and the living throng of varied shapes would have borne your friends away with it. Then they would have seen themselves, like you, in the picture that your mind had bodied forth. Now I must confess to you, kind reader, that no one has really asked me for the history of the young Nathaniel, but you know well enough that I belong to the queer race of authors who, if they have anything in their minds such as I have just described, feel as if everyone who comes near them, and the whole world besides, is insistently demanding: 'What is it then - tell it, my dear friend?' Thus was I forcibly compelled to tell you of the momentous life of Nathaniel. The marvelous singularity of the story filled my entire soul, but for that very reason and because, my dear reader, I had to make you equally inclined to accept the uncanny, which is no small matter, I was puzzled how to begin Nathaniel's story in a manner as inspiring, original and striking as possible. 'Once upon a time,' the beautiful beginning of every tale, was too tame. 'In the little provincial town of S____ lived' - was somewhat better, as it at least prepared for the climax. Or should I dart at once, medias in res, with "'Go to the devil," cried the student Nathaniel with rage and horror in his wild looks, when the barometer-dealer, Giuseppe Coppola . . .?' - I had indeed already written this down, when I fancied that I could detect something ludicrous in the wild looks of the student Nathaniel, whereas the story is not comical at all. No form of language suggested itself to my mind which seemed to reflect ever in the slightest degree the coloring of the internal picture. I resolved that I would not begin it at all. So take, gentle reader, the three letters. which friend Lothaire was good enough to give me, as the sketch of the picture which I shall endeavor to color more and more brightly as I proceed with my narrative. Perhaps, like a good portrait-painter, I may succeed in catching the outline in this way, so that you will realize it is a likeness even without knowing the original, and feel as if you had often seen the person with your own corporeal eyes. Perhaps, dear reader, you will then believe that nothing is stranger and madder than actual life; which the poet can only catch in the form of a dull reflection in a dimly polished mirror. To give you all the information that you will require for a start, we must supplement these letters with the news that shortly after the death of Nathaniel's father, Clara and Lothaire, the children of a distant relative, who had likewise died and left them orphans, were taken by Nathaniel's mother into her own home. Clara and Nathaniel formed a strong attachment for each other; and no one in the world having any objection to make, they were betrothed when Nathaniel left the place to pursue his studies in G___ . And there he is, according to his last letter, attending the lectures of the celebrated professor of physics, Spalanzani. Now, I could proceed in my story with confidence, but at this moment Clara's picture stands so plainly before me that I cannot turn away; as indeed was always the case when she gazed at me with one of her lovely smiles. Clara could not by any means be reckoned beautiful, that was the opinion of all who are by their calling competent judges of beauty. Architects, nevertheless, praised the exact symmetry of her frame, and painters considered her neck, shoulders and bosom almost too chastely formed; but then they all fell in love with her wondrous hair and coloring, comparing her to the Magdalen in Battoni's picture at Dresden. One of them, a most fantastical and singular fellow, compared Clara's eyes to a lake by Ruysdael, in which the pure azure of a cloudless sky, the wood and flowery field, the whole cheerful life of the rich landscape are reflected. Poets and composers went still further. 'What is a lake what is a mirror!' said they. 'Can we look upon the girl without wondrous, heavenly music flowing towards us from her glances, to penetrate our inmost soul so that all there is awakened and stirred? If we don't sing well then, there is not much in us, as we shall learn from the delicate smile which plays on Clara's lips, when we presume to pipe up before her with something intended to pass for a song, although it is only a confused jumble of notes.' So it was. Clara had the vivid fancy of a cheerful, unembarrassed child; a deep, tender, feminine disposition; an acute, clever understanding. Misty dreamers had not a chance with her; since, though she did not talk - talking would have been altogether repugnant to her silent nature - her bright glance and her firm ironical smile would say to them: 'Good friends, how can you imagine that I shall take your fleeting shadowy images for real shapes imbued with life and motion ?' On this account Clara was censured by many as cold, unfeeling and prosaic; while others, who understood life to its clear depths, greatly loved the feeling, acute, childlike girl; but none so much as Nathaniel, whose perception in art and science was clear and strong. Clara was attached to her lover with all her heart, and when he parted from her the first cloud passed over her life. With what delight, therefore, did she rush into his arms when, as he had promised in his last letter to Lothaire, he actually returned to his native town and entered his mother's room! Nathaniel's expectations were completely fulfilled; for directly he saw Clara he thought neither of the Advocate Coppelius nor of her 'sensible' letter. All gloomy forebodings had gone. However, Nathaniel was quite right, when he wrote to his friend Lothaire that the form of the repulsive barometer-dealer, Coppola, had had a most evil effect on his life. All felt, even in the first days, that Nathaniel had undergone a complete change in his whole being. He sank into a gloomy reverie, and behaved in a strange manner that had never been known in him before. Everything, his whole life, had become to him a dream and a foreboding, and he was always saying that man, although he might think himself free, only served for the cruel sport of dark powers These he said it was vain to resist; man must patiently resign himself to his fate. He even went so far as to say that it is foolish to think that we do anything in art and science according to our own independent will; for the inspiration which alone enables us to produce anything does not proceed from within ourselves, but is the effect of a higher principle without. To the clear-headed Clara this mysticism was in the highest degree repugnant, but contradiction appeared to be useless. Only when Nathaniel proved that Coppelius was the evil principle, which had seized him at the moment when he was listening behind the curtain, and that this repugnant principle would in some horrible manner disturb the happiness of their life, Clara grew very serious, and said: 'Yes, Nathaniel, you are right. Coppelius is an evil, hostile principle; he can produce terrible effects, like a diabolical power that has come visibly into life; but only if you will not banish him from your mind and thoughts. So long as you believe in him, he really exists and exerts his influence; his power lies only in your belief.' Quite indignant that Clara did not admit the demon's existence outside his own mind, Nathaniel would then come out with all the mystical doctrine of devils and powers of evil. But Clara would break off peevishly by introducing some indifferent matter, to the no small annoyance of Nathaniel. He thought that such deep secrets were closed to cold, unreceptive minds, without being clearly aware that he was counting Clara among these subordinate natures; and therefore he constantly endeavored to initiate her into the mysteries. In the morning, when Clara was getting breakfast ready, he stood by her, reading out of all sorts of mystical books till she cried: 'But dear Nathaniel, suppose I blame you as the evil principle that has a hostile effect upon my coffee? For if, to please you, I drop everything and look in your eyes while you read, my coffee will overflow into the fire, and none of you will get any breakfast.' Nathaniel closed the book at once and hurried indignantly to his chamber. Once he had a remarkable forte for graceful, lively tales, which he wrote down, and to which Clara listened with the greatest delight; now his creations were gloomy, incomprehensible and formless, so that although, out of compassion, Clara did not say so, he plainly felt how little she was interested. Nothing was more unbearable to Clara than tediousness; her looks and words expressed mental drowsiness which she could not overcome. Nathaniel's productions were, indeed, very tedious. His indignation at Clara's cold, prosaic disposition constantly increased; and Clara could not overcome her dislike of Nathaniel's dark, gloomy, boring mysticism, so that they became mentally more and more estranged without either of them perceiving it. The shape of the ugly Coppelius, as Nathaniel himself was forced to confess, was growing dimmer in his fancy, and it often cost him some pains to draw him with sufficient color in his stories, where he figured as the dread bogy of ill omen. It occurred to him, however, in the end to make his gloomy foreboding, that Coppelius would destroy his happiness, the subject of a poem. He represented himself and Clara as united by true love, but occasionally threatened by a black hand, which appeared to dart into their lives, to snatch away some new joy just as it was born. Finally, as they were standing at the altar, the hideous Coppelius appeared and touched Clara's lovely eyes. They flashed into Nathaniel's heart, like bleeding sparks, scorching and burning, as Coppelius caught him, and flung him into a flaming, fiery circle, which flew round with the swiftness of a storm, carrying him along with it, amid its roaring. The roar is like that of the hurricane, when it fiercely lashes the foaming waves, which rise up, like black giants with white heads, for the furious combat. But through the wild tumult he hears Clara's voice: 'Can't you see me then? Coppelius has deceived you. Those, indeed, were not my eyes which so burned in your breast - they were glowing drops of your own heart's blood. I have my eyes still - only look at them!' Nathaniel reflects: 'That is Clara, and I am hers for ever!' Then it seems to him as though this thought has forcibly entered the fiery circle, which stands still, while the noise dully ceases in the dark abyss. Nathaniel looks into Clara's eyes, but it is death that looks kindly upon him from her eyes While Nathaniel composed this poem, he was very calm and collected; he polished and improved every line, and having subjected himself to the fetters of metre, he did not rest till all was correct and melodious. When at last he had finished and read the poem aloud to himself, a wild horror seized him. 'Whose horrible voice is that?' he cried out. Soon, however, the whole appeared to him a very successful work, and he felt that it must rouse Clara's cold temperament, although he did not clearly consider why Clara was to be excited, nor what purpose it would serve to torment her with frightful pictures threatening a horrible fate, destructive to their love. Both of them - that is to say, Nathaniel and Clara - were sitting in his mother's little garden, Clara very cheerful, because Nathaniel had not teased her with his dreams and his forebodings during the three days in which he had been writing his poem. He was even talking cheerfully, as in the old days, about pleasant matters, which caused Clara to remark: 'Now for the first time I have you again! Don't you see that we have driven the ugly Coppelius away?' Not till then did it strike Nathaniel that he had in his pocket the poem, which he had intended to read. He at once drew the sheets out and began, while Clara, expecting something tedious as usual, resigned herself and began quietly to knit. But as the dark cloud rose ever blacker and blacker, she let the stocking fall and looked him full in the face. He was carried irresistibly along by his poem, an internal fire deeply reddened his cheeks, tears flowed from his eyes. At last, when he had concluded, he groaned in a state of utter exhaustion and, catching Clara's hand, sighed forth, as if melted into the most inconsolable grief: 'Oh Clara! - Clara!' Clara pressed him gently to her bosom, and said softly, but very solemnly and sincerely: 'Nathaniel, dearest Nathaniel, do throw that mad, senseless, insane stuff into the fire!' Upon this Nathaniel sprang up enraged and, thrusting Clara from him, cried: 'Oh, inanimate, accursed automaton!' With which he ran off; Clara, deeply offended, shed bitter tears, and sobbed aloud: 'Ah, he has never loved me, for he does not understand me.' Lothaire entered the arbor; Clara was obliged to tell him all that had occurred. He loved his sister with all his soul, and every word of her complaint fell like a spark of fire into his heart, so that the indignation which he had long harbored against the visionary Nathaniel now broke out into the wildest rage. He ran to Nathaniel and reproached him for his senseless conduce towards his beloved sister in hard words, to which the infuriated Nathaniel retorted in the same style. The appellation of 'fantastical, mad fool,' was answered by that of 'miserable commonplace fellow.' A duel was inevitable. They agreed on the following morning, according to the local student custom, to fight with sharp rapiers on the far side of the garden. Silently and gloomily they slunk about. Clara had overheard the violent dispute and, seeing the fencing-master bring the rapiers at dawn, guessed what was to occur. Having reached the place of combat, Lothaire and Nathaniel had in gloomy silence flung off their coats, and with the lust of battle in their flaming eyes were about to fall upon one another, when Clara rushed through the garden door, crying aloud between her sobs: 'You wild cruel men! Strike me down before you attack each other. For how can I live on if my lover murders my brother, or my brother murders my lover.' Lothaire lowered his weapon, and looked in silence on the ground; but in Nathaniel's heart, amid the most poignant sorrow, there revived all his love for the beautiful Clara, which he had felt in the prime of his happy youth. The weapon fell from his hand, he threw himself at Clara's feet. 'Can you ever forgive me, my only - my beloved Clara? Can you forgive me, my dear brother, Lothaire?' Lothaire was touched by the deep contrition of his friend; all three embraced in reconciliation amid a thousand tears, and vowed eternal love and fidelity. Nathaniel felt as though a heavy and oppressive burden had been rolled away, as though by resisting the dark power that held him fast he had saved his whole being, which had been threatened with annihilation. Three happy days he passed with his dear friends, and then went to G___ , where he intended to stay a year, and then to return to his native town for ever. All that referred to Coppelius was kept a secret from his mother. For it was well known that she could not think of him without terror since she, as well as Nathaniel, held him guilty of causing her husband's death.   How surprised was Nathaniel when, proceeding to his lodging, he saw that the whole house was burned down, and that only the bare walls stood up amid the ashes. However, although fire had broken out in the laboratory of the apothecary who lived on the ground-floor, and had therefore consumed the house from top to bottom, some bold active friends had succeeded in entering Nathaniel's room in the upper story in time to save his books, manuscripts and instruments. They carried all safe and sound into another house, where they took a room, to which Nathaniel moved at once. He did not think it at all remarkable that he now lodged opposite to Professor Spalanzani; neither did it appear singular when he perceived that his window looked straight into the room where Olympia often sat alone, so that he could plainly recognize her figure, although the features of her face were indistinct and confused. At last it struck him that Olympia often remained for hours in that attitude in which he had once seen her through the glass door, sitting at a little table without any occupation, and that she was plainly enough looking over at him with an unvarying gaze. He was forced to confess that he had never seen a more lovely form but, with Clara in his heart, the stiff Olympia was perfectly indifferent to him. Occasionally, to be sure, he gave a transient look over his textbook at the beautiful statue, but that was all. He was just writing to Clara, when he heard a light tap at the door; it stopped as he answered, and the repulsive face of Coppola peeped in. Nathaniel's heart trembled within him, but remembering what Spalanzani had told him about his compatriot Coppola, and also the firm promise he had made to Clara with respect to the Sandman Coppelius, he felt ashamed of his childish fear and, collecting himself with all his might, said as softly and civilly as possible: 'I do not want a barometer, my good friend; pray go.' Upon this, Coppola advanced a good way into the room, his wide mouth distorted into a hideous laugh, and his little eyes darting fire from beneath their long grey lashes: 'Eh, eh - no barometer - no barometer?' he said in a hoarse voice, 'I have pretty eyes too - pretty eyes!' 'Madman!' cried Nathaniel in horror. 'How can you have eyes? Eyes?' But Coppola had already put his barometer aside and plunged his hand into his wide coat-pocket, whence he drew lorgnettes and spectacles, which he placed upon the table. 'There - there - spectacles on the nose, those are my eyes - pretty eyes!' he gabbled, drawing out more and more spectacles, until the whole table began to glisten and sparkle in the most extraordinary manner. A thousand eyes stared and quivered, their gaze fixed upon Nathaniel; yet he could not look away from the table, where Coppola kept laying down still more and more spectacles, and all those flaming eyes leapt in wilder and wilder confusion, shooting their blood red light into Nathaniel's heart. At last, overwhelmed with horror, he shrieked out: 'Stop, stop, you terrify me!' and seized Coppola by the arm, as he searched his pockets to bring out still more spectacles, although the whole table was already covered. Coppola gently extricated himself with a hoarse repulsive laugh; and with the words: 'Ah, nothing for you - but here are pretty glasses!' collected all the spectacles, packed them away, and from the breast-pocket of his coat drew forth a number of telescopes large and small. As soon as the spectacles were removed Nathaniel felt quite easy and, thinking of Clara, perceived that the hideous phantom was but the creature of his own mind, that this Coppola was an honest optician and could not possibly be the accursed double of Coppelius. Moreover, in all the glasses which Coppola now placed on the table, there was nothing remarkable, or at least nothing so uncanny as in the spectacles; and to set matters right Nathaniel resolved to make a purchase. He took up a little, very neatly constructed pocket telescope, and looked through the window to try it. Never in his life had he met a glass which brought objects so clearly and sharply before his eyes. Involuntarily he looked into Spalanzani's room; Olympia was sitting as usual before the little table, with her arms laid upon it, and her hands folded. For the first time he could see the wondrous beauty in the shape of her face; only her eyes seemed to him singularly still and dead. Nevertheless, as he looked more keenly through the glass, it seemed to him as if moist moonbeams were rising in Olympia's eyes. It was as if the power of seeing were being kindled for the first time; her glances flashed with constantly increasing life. As if spellbound, Nathaniel reclined against the window, meditating on the charming Olympia. A humming and scraping aroused him as if from a dream. Coppola was standing behind him: 'Tre zecchini - three ducats!' He had quite forgotten the optician, and quickly paid him what he asked. 'Is it not so ? A pretty glass - a pretty glass ?' asked Coppola, in his hoarse, repulsive voice, and with his malicious smile. 'Yes - yes,' replied Nathaniel peevishly; 'Good-bye, friend.' Coppola left the room, but not without casting many strange glances at Nathaniel. He heard him laugh loudly on the stairs. 'Ah,' thought Nathaniel, 'he is laughing at me because, no doubt, I have paid him too much for this little glass.' While he softly uttered these words, it seemed as if a deep and lugubrious sigh were sounding fearfully through the room; and his breath was stopped by inward anguish. He perceived, however, that it was himself that had sighed. 'Clara is right,' he said to himself, 'in taking me for a senseless dreamer, but it is pure madness - nay, more than madness, that the stupid thought of having paid Coppola too much for the glass still pains me so strangely. I cannot see the cause.' He now sat down to finish his letter to Clara; but a glance through the window assured him that Olympia was still sitting there, and he instantly sprang up, as if impelled by an irresistible power, seized Coppola's glass, and could not tear himself away from the seductive sight of Olympia till his friend and brother Sigismund called him to go to Professor Spalanzani's lecture. The curtain was drawn close before the fatal room, and he could see Olympia no longer, nor could he upon the next day or the next, although he scarcely ever left his window and constantly looked through Coppola's glass. On the third day the windows were completely covered. In utter despair, filled with a longing and a burning desire, he ran out of the town-gate. Olympia's form floated before him in the air, stepped forth from the bushes, and peeped at him with large beaming eyes from the clear brook. Clara's image had completely vanished from his mind; he thought of nothing but Olympia, and complained aloud in a murmuring voice: 'Ah, noble, sublime star of my love, have you only risen upon me to vanish immediately, and leave me in dark hopeless night?' As he returned to his lodging, however, he perceived a great bustle in Spalanzani's house. The doors were wide open, all sorts of utensils were being carried in, the windows of the first floor were being taken out, maid-servants were going about sweeping and dusting with great hairbrooms, and carpenters and upholsterers were knocking and hammering within. Nathaniel remained standing in the street in a state of perfect wonder, when Sigismund came up to him laughing, and said: 'Now, what do you say to our old Spalanzani?' Nathaniel assured him that he could say nothing because he knew nothing about the professor, but on the contrary perceived with astonishment the mad proceedings in a house otherwise so quiet and gloomy. He then learnt from Sigismund that Spalanzani intended to give a grand party on the following day - a concert and ball - and that half the university was invited. It was generally reported that Spalanzani, who had so long kept his daughter most scrupulously from every human eye, would now let her appear for the first time. Nathaniel found a card of invitation, and with heart beating high went at the appointed hour to the professor's, where the coaches were already arriving and the lights shining in the decorated rooms. The company was numerous and brilliant. Olympia appeared dressed with great richness and taste. Her beautifully shaped face and her figure roused general admiration. The somewhat strange arch of her back and the wasp-like thinness of her waist seemed to be produced by too tight lacing. In her step and deportment there was something measured and stiff, which struck many as unpleasant, but it was ascribed to the constraint produced by the company. The concert began. Olympia played the harpsichord with great dexterity, and sang a virtuoso piece, with a voice like the sound of a glass bell, clear and almost piercing. Nathaniel was quite enraptured; he stood in the back row, and could not perfectly recognize Olympia's features in the dazzling light. Therefore, quite unnoticed, he took out Coppola's glass and looked towards the fair creature. Ah! then he saw with what a longing glance she gazed towards him, and how every note of her song plainly sprang from that loving glance, whose fire penetrated his inmost soul. Her accomplished roulades seemed to Nathaniel the exultation of a mind transfigured by love, and when at last, after the cadence, the long trill sounded shrilly through the room, he felt as if clutched by burning arms. He could restrain himself no longer, but with mingled pain and rapture shouted out, 'Olympia!' Everyone looked at him, and many laughed. The organist of the cathedral made a gloomier face than usual, and simply said: 'Well, well.' The concert had finished, the ball began. 'To dance with her - with her!' That was the aim of all Nathaniel's desire, of all his efforts; but how to gain courage to ask her, the queen of the ball? Nevertheless - he himself did not know how it happened - no sooner had the dancing begun than he was standing close to Olympia, who had not yet been asked to dance. Scarcely able to stammer out a few words, he had seized her hand. Olympia's hand was as cold as ice; he felt a horrible deathly chill thrilling through him. He looked into her eyes, which beamed back full of love and desire, and at the same time it seemed as though her pulse began to beat and her life's blood to flow into her cold hand. And in the soul of Nathaniel the joy of love rose still higher; he clasped the beautiful Olympia, and with her flew through the dance. He thought that his dancing was usually correct as to time, but the peculiarly steady rhythm with which Olympia moved, and which often put him completely out, soon showed him that his time was most defective. However, he would dance with no other lady, and would have murdered anyone who approached Olympia for the purpose of asking her. But this only happened twice, and to his astonishment Olympia remained seated until the next dance, when he lost no time in making her rise again. Had he been able to see any other object besides the fair Olympia, all sorts of unfortunate quarrels would have been inevitable. For the quiet, scarcely suppressed laughter which arose among the young people in every corner was manifestly directed towards Olympia, whom they followed with very curious glances - one could not tell why. Heated by the dance and by the wine, of which he had freely partaken, Nathaniel had laid aside all his ordinary reserve. He sat by Olympia with her hand in his and, in a high state of inspiration, told her his passion, in words which neither he nor Olympia understood. Yet perhaps she did; for she looked steadfastly into his face and sighed several times, 'Ah, ah!' Upon this, Nathaniel said, 'Oh splendid, heavenly lady! Ray from the promised land of love - deep soul in whom all my being is reflected !' with much more stuff of the like kind. But Olympia merely went on sighing, 'Ah - ah!' Professor Spalanzani occasionally passed the happy pair, and smiled on them with a look of singular satisfaction. To Nathaniel, although he felt in quite another world, it seemed suddenly as though Professor Spalanzani's face was growing considerably darker, and when he looked around he perceived, to his no small horror, that the last two candles in the empty room had burned down to their sockets, and were just going out. The music and dancing had ceased long ago. 'Parting - parting!' he cried in wild despair; he kissed Olympia's hand, he bent towards her mouth, when his glowing lips were met by lips cold as ice! Just as when he had touched her cold hand, he felt himself overcome by horror; the legend of the dead bride darted suddenly through his mind, but Olympia pressed him fast, and her lips seemed to spring to life at his kiss. Professor Spalanzani strode through the empty hall, his steps caused a hollow echo, and his figure, round which a flickering shadow played, had a fearful, spectral appearance. 'Do you love me, do you love me, Olympia? Only one word! Do you love me?' whispered Nathaniel; but as she rose Olympia only sighed, 'Ah - ah!' 'Yes, my gracious, my beautiful star of love,' said Nathaniel, 'you have risen upon me, and you will shine, for ever lighting my inmost soul.' 'Ah - ah!' replied Olympia, as she departed. Nathaniel followed her; they both stood before the professor. 'You have had a very animated conversation with my daughter,' said he, smiling; 'So, dear Herr Nathaniel, if you have any pleasure in talking with a silly girl, your visits shall be welcome.' Nathaniel departed with a whole heaven beaming in his heart. The next day Spalanzani's party was the general subject of conversation. Notwithstanding that the professor had made every effort to appear splendid, the wags had all sorts of incongruities and oddities to talk about. They were particularly hard upon the dumb, stiff Olympia whom, in spite of her beautiful exterior, they considered to be completely stupid, and they were delighted to find in her stupidity the reason why Spalanzani had kept her so long concealed. Nathaniel did not hear this without secret anger. Nevertheless he held his peace. 'For,' thought he, 'is it worth while convincing these fellows that it is their own stupidity that prevents their recognizing Olympia's deep, noble mind?' One day Sigismund said to him: 'Be kind enough, brother, to tell me how a sensible fellow like you could possibly lose your head over that wax face, over that wooden doll up there?' Nathaniel was about to fly out in a passion, but he quickly recollected himself and retorted: 'Tell me, Sigismund, how it is that Olympia's heavenly charms could escape your active and intelligent eyes, which generally perceive things so clearly? But, for that very reason, Heaven be thanked, I have not you for my rival; otherwise, one of us must have fallen a bleeding corpse!' Sigismund plainly perceived his friend's condition. So he skillfully gave the conversation a turn and, after observing that in love-affairs there was no disputing about the object, added: 'Nevertheless, it is strange that many of us think much the same about Olympia. To us - pray do not take it ill, brother she appears singularly stiff and soulless. Her shape is well proportioned - so is her face - that is true! She might pass for beautiful if her glance were not so utterly without a ray of life - without the power of vision. Her pace is strangely regular, every movement seems to depend on some wound-up clockwork. Her playing and her singing keep the same unpleasantly correct and spiritless time as a musical box, and the same may be said of her dancing. We find your Olympia quite uncanny, and prefer to have nothing to do with her. She seems to act like a living being, and yet has some strange peculiarity of her own.' Nathaniel did not completely yield to the bitter feeling which these words of Sigismund's roused in him, but mastered his indignation, and merely said with great earnestness, 'Olympia may appear uncanny to you, cold, prosaic man. Only the poetical mind is sensitive to its like in others. To me alone was the love in her glances revealed, and it has pierced my mind and all my thought; only in the love of Olympia do I discover my real self. It may not suit you that she does not indulge in idle chit-chat like other shallow minds. She utters few words, it is true, but these few words appear as genuine hieroglyphics of the inner world, full of love and deep knowledge of the spiritual life, and contemplation of the eternal beyond. But you have no sense for all this, and my words are wasted on you.' 'God preserve you, brother,' said Sigismund very mildly almost sorrowfully. 'But you seem to me to be in an evil way. You may depend upon me, if all - no, no, I will not say anything further.' All of a sudden it struck Nathaniel that the cold, prosaic Sigismund meant very well towards him; he therefore shook his proffered hand very heartily. Nathaniel had totally forgotten the very existence of Clara, whom he had once loved; his mother, Lothaire - all had vanished from his memory; he lived only for Olympia, with whom he sat for hours every day, uttering strange fantastical stuff about his love, about the sympathy that glowed to life, about the affinity of souls, to all of which Olympia listened with great devotion. From the very bottom of his desk he drew out all that he had ever written. Poems, fantasies, visions, romances, tales - this stock was daily increased by all sorts of extravagant sonnets, stanzas and canzoni, and he read them all tirelessly to Olympia for hours on end. Never had he known such an admirable listener. She neither embroidered nor knitted, she never looked out of the window, she fed no favorite bird, she played neither with lapdog nor pet cat, she did not twist a slip of paper or anything else in her hand, she was not obliged to suppress a yawn by a gentle forced cough. In short, she sat for hours, looking straight into her lover's eyes, without stirring, and her glance became more and more lively and animated Only when Nathaniel rose at last, and kissed her hand and her lips did she say, 'Ah, ah!' to which she added: 'Good night, dearest.' 'Oh deep, noble mind!' cried Nathaniel in his own room, 'you, you alone, dear one, fully under

On November 7th, Douglas County voters will be asked to weigh in on 'home rule' for the county. If approved, it would dramatically change the county government. Chris Lehman explains how it works, and what the arguments are, for and against. We also introduce you to a Washington woman who tried to get her stepson committed to a mental health facility against his will. As Austin Jenkins reports, 'Joel's Law' didn't work for her.

Indeed God has called us to share His gospel, but are we able to do it consistently with a willing heart? On the flip side, it is in times of inability to preach willingly, that our experiences amplify God's power and grace more.

Indeed God has called us to share His gospel, but are we able to do it consistently with a willing heart? On the flip side, it is in times of inability to preach willingly, that our experiences amplify God's power and grace more.

Indeed God has called us to share His gospel, but are we able to do it consistently with a willing heart? On the flip side, it is in times of inability to preach willingly, that our experiences amplify God's power and grace more.

Indeed God has called us to share His gospel, but are we able to do it consistently with a willing heart? On the flip side, it is in times of inability to preach willingly, that our experiences amplify God's power and grace more.

Indeed God has called us to share His gospel, but are we able to do it consistently with a willing heart? On the flip side, it is in times of inability to preach willingly, that our experiences amplify God's power and grace more.

Indeed God has called us to share His gospel, but are we able to do it consistently with a willing heart? On the flip side, it is in times of inability to preach willingly, that our experiences amplify God's power and grace more.

The smell of sulphur and the stench of filth made McKenzie want to retch. It overpowered him; dank, putrid decay, the reek of death. The tortured screaming was at fever-pitch way beyond the capabilities of anything human. Involuntarily, McKenzie let out a scream himself. It came from somewhere deep within him and inside that desperate cry was every ounce of McKenzie’s last hope of survival. Out of nowhere McKenzie suddenly felt his fall being cushioned by an invisible source. Instead of falling downwards into the jaws of the devouring black evil abyss he was travelling upwards at the speed of light towards a glorious, magnificent, iridescent kaleidoscope of brilliant colours. McKenzie was exhilarated, he was overwhelmed with euphoria. Elated and filled with tremendous joy, McKenzie lay back into the invisible arms and enjoyed the ride. All of a sudden, McKenzie was in the centre of an inexpressible light. Colours flashed all around him. He could almost touch and taste each colour, however, as he reached out to take hold of them they morphed into yet another holographic display of tremendous beauty. Peace began to soak him like mist on a mountainside; like a breath, a gentle breeze caressed him in love. McKenzie didn’t want it to stop. He thought that his heart would burst with such tremendous elation, a symphony of love, joy and peace. Still it came, wave after wave of enrapturing harmony. McKenzie felt at one with all that was happening. He blended into the light and the love until he was completely unaware of himself. He knew that he had been saved from utter, unending evil and he was now soaked and saturated in this expansive, great goodness. He didn’t want it to stop and somehow, deep inside, he knew it never would….. 1 John 1:5……This is the message we have heard from him and declare to you: God is light; in him there is no darkness at all. To find out more about this bible verse please go to ‘Marvellous Light’: http://www.getthegist.net/

Topics Include: Understand the relationship between charity and oneness. Roger walked into what was sometimes known as 'The Lost City' and was immediately struck by the level of suffering. This was not one or two homeless and hungry, this was tens of thousands of lost, lonely and painful souls. There were those bankrupt, those ostracised for their colour, religion, their weight or lack of weight, their ugly faces or scars or criminal record, their sexuality, their violence, their mental illness, their lack of education. There were people everywhere, in everyones faces, most were barely conscious from a cocktail of alcohol and drugs and petrol and paint cans. Everyone was on top of everyone and all they seemed to want was distance. A mess of urine and faeces littered the landscape but mostly it choked Rogers breath. He could barely breathe without feeling he was going to vomit. Involuntarily already he had dry wretched but had been able to hide it feebly behind a movement of his hand. He stared away not because he meant to, but because he physically could not get his eyes to look. He had never seen anything like it. This lack of human dignity, lack of human self-worth. Then he recognised a face, a shining light, a nerdy, gawky looking girl he recognised from high school. She caught his eyes immediately and smiled. There was nothing at all attractive about her physically but in this place she exuded warmth and presence. All the suffering people around her seemed to gather another breath as she walked past.

Topics Include: Understand the relationship between charity and oneness. Roger walked into what was sometimes known as 'The Lost City' and was immediately struck by the level of suffering. This was not one or two homeless and hungry, this was tens of thousands of lost, lonely and painful souls. There were those bankrupt, those ostracised for their colour, religion, their weight or lack of weight, their ugly faces or scars or criminal record, their sexuality, their violence, their mental illness, their lack of education. There were people everywhere, in everyones faces, most were barely conscious from a cocktail of alcohol and drugs and petrol and paint cans. Everyone was on top of everyone and all they seemed to want was distance. A mess of urine and faeces littered the landscape but mostly it choked Rogers breath. He could barely breathe without feeling he was going to vomit. Involuntarily already he had dry wretched but had been able to hide it feebly behind a movement of his hand. He stared away not because he meant to, but because he physically could not get his eyes to look. He had never seen anything like it. This lack of human dignity, lack of human self-worth. Then he recognised a face, a shining light, a nerdy, gawky looking girl he recognised from high school. She caught his eyes immediately and smiled. There was nothing at all attractive about her physically but in this place she exuded warmth and presence. All the suffering people around her seemed to gather another breath as she walked past.

Topics Include: Understand the relationship between charity and oneness. Roger walked into what was sometimes known as 'The Lost City' and was immediately struck by the level of suffering. This was not one or two homeless and hungry, this was tens of thousands of lost, lonely and painful souls. There were those bankrupt, those ostracised for their colour, religion, their weight or lack of weight, their ugly faces or scars or criminal record, their sexuality, their violence, their mental illness, their lack of education. There were people everywhere, in everyones faces, most were barely conscious from a cocktail of alcohol and drugs and petrol and paint cans. Everyone was on top of everyone and all they seemed to want was distance. A mess of urine and faeces littered the landscape but mostly it choked Rogers breath. He could barely breathe without feeling he was going to vomit. Involuntarily already he had dry wretched but had been able to hide it feebly behind a movement of his hand. He stared away not because he meant to, but because he physically could not get his eyes to look. He had never seen anything like it. This lack of human dignity, lack of human self-worth. Then he recognised a face, a shining light, a nerdy, gawky looking girl he recognised from high school. She caught his eyes immediately and smiled. There was nothing at all attractive about her physically but in this place she exuded warmth and presence. All the suffering people around her seemed to gather another breath as she walked past.