Podcasts about Jaywalking

4pm - Jaywalking officially not a crime in NYC after DOT revises rules // White House Says It Has Tech That Can 'Manipulate Time and Space' // GUEST - BEN BENTZIN  - MARKETING PROFESSOR AT UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS AUSTIN MCCOMBS SCHOOL OF BUSINESS ON WHAT’S AHEAD FOR THE ECONOMY // Reflecting on Father Bryan’s quote: "Pain and suffering not transformed is transmitted"

Jon talks the possible decriminalization of jaywalking and protest crazies.

God Bless YOU ALL for listening to us. This is a fun ep as we catch up. Gabriel is still in England and Amer is still in Montreal. And between us is thousands of miles of love that binds us. So listen to this episode okay??

A message all about God's will for our lives and His design of purity. Lets not rush what God is doing, lets not Jaywalk our Crosswalks.

5pm: Microsoft is Turning 50!  How one of tech’s original super powers changed Seattle, the tech industry and the world // It’s Not Just Eagles Fans. Why Do People Riot After Super Bowl Wins? // Only in Seattle: A mob of celebratory Seahawks fans stop short of jaywalking after Super Bowl XLVIII in 2014 // Letters 

Welcome back to another hilarious episode of Shenk! This week, we're joined by the one and only Felipe Esparza, comedian and star of the upcoming Netflix special Raging Fool. Felipe gets real about his journey in comedy, his experience working with his wife, and the wild ride of producing and selling his own stand-up special to Netflix. We also dive into some insane stories, from his time in jail for a jaywalking ticket, to karaoke mishaps, and even the wild world of Amsterdam's red-light district. Plus, Felipe shares what it's like to perform all over the country, why certain cities have a special vibe, and the surprising places where comedy thrives. We get into some deep cuts about sobriety, mushrooms, and the art of bombing on stage, along with behind-the-scenes insights into Felipe's new tour and upcoming TV projects. And, of course, we talk comedy, music, and run-ins with crazy fans. If you love stand-up, raw storytelling, and unfiltered comedy talk, this is an episode you don't want to miss! Subscribe to Sara Weinshenk: https://shorturl.at/mmzt1 Follow Sara Weinshenk @princessshenk https://www.instagram.com/princessshenk/ Patreon.com/saraweinshenk Follow Felipe Esparza https://www.instagram.com/felipeesparzacomedian/?hl=en Edited By Xavier Campos https://wwww.instagram.com/imxaviercampos Follow Kim Congdon and Weinshenk's podcast This Bitch subscribe on youtube @ThisBitchPodcast Brought to you by Oooh Yeah Socks https://ooohyeah.com @ooohyeahsocks - Discount Code: SARA10 Studio @thecomedystore https://www.instagram.com/thecomedystore https://www.thecomedystore.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In San Antonio, December 3, 2024, An officer attempted to talk to a male subject on the road. The subject ran away. The officer gave chase, and they ended up near a drainage ditch. A second officer showed up issued commands for compliance to the male. The officer observed the suspect holding a gun. The officer drew his gun and shot at the suspect multiple times. The chase and the gunfire continued until the the suspect died at the scene. Strangely it seems that one of the suspect's wounds was self-inflicted. There is more going on here than is being told in the mainstream media, and former cop Eric Tansey wants to talk about why.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Reportage "Jaywalking" - Galerie Ping Rodach (Hördauer 59 Minuten) Die Gruppenausstellung „Jaywalking" rundet unser Jahresprogramm mit einer spannenden Bandbreite von klassischer zeitgenössischer Kunst bis hin zu dadaistisch-humorvollen Arbeiten ab. Diese Ausstellung präsentiert Werke, die unsere Konsumkultur kritisch beleuchten und im Kontext der Junk Art gesellschaftliche Themen aufgreifenDie gezeigten Arbeiten laden zur Reflexion über individuelle Freiheit, respektvolle Akzeptanz und die bedeutende Rolle der Kunst in einer sich wandelnden Gesellschaft einDabei fungiert die Kunst als wichtiger Garant für demokratisches Zusammenleben und friedliches Miteinander, auch wenn sie bewusst Grenzen überschreitet und unterschiedliche Wertvorstellungen konfrontiertDie Ausstellung „Jaywalking" unterstreicht die Wichtigkeit der künstlerischen Autonomie. Sie bietet einen Raum für kritische Auseinandersetzung mit aktuellen Themen und ermöglicht es den Künstlern, gesellschaftliche Missstände aufzudecken und Diskurse für sozialen Wandel anzustoßenDurch die Vielfalt der präsentierten Werke wird deutlich, wie Kunst als Spiegel der Gesellschaft fungieren und gleichzeitig Werte wie Offenheit und Demokratie fördern kannDer Titel „Jaywalking" symbolisiert das Überschreiten von Grenzen und das Hinterfragen restriktiver MaßnahmenDie Ausstellung zeigt, wie Künstler durch ihre Arbeit kulturelle Grenzen verwischen und neue Perspektiven eröffnen. Dabei entstehen oft überraschende Verbindungen und Assoziationen, die den Betrachter zum Nachdenken anregt.Durch die Präsentation verschiedener künstlerischer Ansätze und Themen bietet „Jaywalking" einen umfassenden Einblick in die zeitgenössische Kunstszene und ihre Rolle als kritisches Medium in der Gesellschaft. Folgende Künstler wurden ausgestellt: ARMIN SCHRÖTTER, GREGORY BORLEIN, STEPHAN DILL, CHENZHONG XU, NENA CERMAK, SIYOUNG KIM, GREGOR PASSENS, GERT RESINGER, TORSTEN MÜHLBACH, HIERONYMUS JOSH, ALIENFROMAUSTRALIA, MATTHIAS RODACH, RED HUEMER, NIKOLA MILOJCEVIC, LIZA MERCEDES, YOUJIN YI, ANNY WASS Wenn dir diese Sendung gefallen hat, magst du vielleicht auch diese.  Aufzeichnung, Schnitt und Realisation Uwe Kullnick

Don Wildman examines a barrel connected to a daring World War II plot, a traffic light that sparked an urban revolution and the portrait of a doctor who was embroiled in a nineteenth century tale of biological warfare. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

New York City recently legalized jaywalking. For many Bostonians, jaywalking almost seems like a way of life…how many people actually realize jaywalking is illegal? With a seemingly minor fine of $1 if caught jaywalking in Boston, is that worth law enforcement's time? We heard listeners' thoughts on whether Boston should legalize jaywalking!Ask Alexa to play WBZ NewsRadio on #iHeartRadio and listen to NightSide with Dan Rea Weeknights From 8PM-12AM!

Recorded live at Podigee on November 12, 2024 with hosts Joel, Izzy, and Dan. They discuss proposed funding cuts to Berlin's cultural institutions, jaywalking, shopping Sundays and the closing of Berlin clubs. The show features two guests: first is co-author of "Beer Hiking Berlin" Dan Cole, followed by Moritz Ahlert of the project "Kiosk of Solidarity".   This episode of Radio Spaetkauf explores the impact of a proposed 10% funding cut to cultural institutions, as well as a reflection on the 35th anniversary of the Berlin Wall's fall. Plus chats on the city's evolving beer scene, the sustainability of nightclubs, the transformation of public spaces, and the importance of inclusive design in fostering community engagement.  Links: GUESTS: Moritz Ahlert: @kiosk.of.solidarity, https://transformingsolidarities.net/de/ Dan Cole: @hiking_and_drinking, https://helvetiq.com/de/beer-hiking-berlin Radio Spaetkaufhttps://www.radiospaetkauf.com  @radiospaetkauf Daniel Stern: https://www.sterndaniel.com/  @danielandstern Next Standup Gig: Nov 23rd at The Wall Berlin Venue: https://www.podigee.com/ ⭑ DONATIONS / SUPPORT: https://www.radiospaetkauf.com/donate/

Being known by the company you keep. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “Life exists in both seconds and years. Don't ignore one for the other.” I would like to thank the phone operator and Chief of the Burnham, Illinois Police Department for answering my questions, despite their bizarre nature. (Monday Night) I should have known to not have too good a time. My karma was wacky enough as it was. It was about to get worse in a way I should have foreseen. Ain't hindsight grand? Inside of five seconds I knew how much sharing Libra and Brooke did; a lot. On the plus side, it gave me some wiggle room with Libra where sex with Brooke was concerned. On the super-plus side, Brooke was looking forward to ratcheting up our sex play. I took her to Libra's experiences with all the extra bells and whistles. In this case it meant adding a blindfold and ball-gag to the hand restraints. Brooke handed me a high level of trust unexpected at this early moment in our sexcapade. With a quick empathic insight, I pulled her ball-gag down as her orgasm erupted. She rejoiced in the sound of her rapture echoing around my bedroom. I deceived her into her next climax by whispering a promise to release her then hammering her instead. The whole specter of powerlessness tore her up inside. Best of all, even as she spasmed beneath me, I released her cuffs then pulled up her mask. Her fingernails dug into my trapezius muscles. For over a minute, she clung to me with a deep hunger to feel my heat and sweat against her body. "My turn," she rasped. I pressed my shoulders and head up so I could look into her eyes. She was waiting for this opportunity since she'd talked with Libra. Without question, she'd never been tied down before, or tied a man down and had her way with him. She'd manipulated men most of her life; that was old hat. This was primal, physical and forbidden. She was taking complete control of my person. God, I thought she'd orgasmed when she finished cuffing me to the headboard. Taunting, teasing and hot body contact followed as she put the ball-gag in. Sizzling lips sealed my fate as the blindfold was slipped in place. Having invested so much time using all my senses soaking up the hungry beast that Brooke possessed right beneath her urbane surface, losing my eyesight wasn't a major drawback. For Brooke, this had all the benefits of anonymous sex in a blacked-out room with the bonus of her having the lights on for her use alone. My bet was she had studied stuff on-line. From being sure she wasn't going to have sex with me when she first met, she had graduated to running naked across my living room for what turned out to be lemon slices. The 'fumph' of the Nerf gun made me assume Timothy shot her in the ass as she raced into my room. By the yip from Brooke, I knew Timothy's aim remained frighteningly accurate. Lemon juice and cuts don't mix, or, Brooke enjoyed watching my body jolt as said juice interacted with said 'workplace' mistakes. Was I angry? Nah. Every hiss of pain was followed by lavished kisses, licks and hair lashings. I loved her long black hair draped over my body, flicked around whisk-like and tickling my nose. Brooke was learning my keystone technique; figure out what your partner wants and give them a quick sample. Don't use any one thing too much; make it a treat and they'll appreciate the taste they get even more. When Brooke finally sated us both, it was my turn again. We talked a while. She invited me to a friend's place in the Hamptons which suggested to me the destination was more than some made-up place on TV. I promised to think about it. Brooke took that to mean she needed to work harder to convince me. I honestly had little desire to be trotted around as Brooke's boy toy. Hoping that wouldn't be the case relied a lot on faith. I wasn't sure what I would have in common with any of that crowd, which guided me back to being a stuck up snob for treating a people as a social class and not as human beings. I took out my social anxiety on Brooke. Poor girl; three holes, ten positions and I'm not sure how many times I took her from frenzied peak to frenzied peak. All I knew was when she'd passed all points of previous primeval ecstasy, I finally released her. Brooke curled into a semi-fetal ball and began burrowing into me. "Happy?" I asked as I stroked her sweat-drenched hair. She nodded happily against my chest. "Are you glad you came over?" I continued. Brooke bit me because she knew I was teasing her. "Ow," I grumbled. "I think we have a misunderstanding who is whose sex toy here." "Do I need to bite you again?" Brooke mumbled into my chest. "Point taken," I conceded. Brooke snuggled in even tighter. We wrestled out of bed, stumbled into the shower and took some time off with Timothy. He looked at us and smirked. "Cáel is going to be my boyfriend," Brooke tossed out there. Huh? "What in God's green earth makes you want to do that?" Timothy chuckled. "He's been there when I needed him. Cáel is a real man and it has taken me having a really tough spill to realize that it doesn't matter which alumni your Daddy belongs to, but what you put on the line for your friends that really matters," Brooke enlightened us both. "Seriously Dude," Timothy looked at me with pity. "Cut down on the awesome dicking until somehow polygamy becomes legal," he added, but then, "Brooke, you know he's seeing about a dozen different ladies, right?" "Cáel is looking for a serious relationship," Brooke insisted. Timothy chortled because he knew the likelihood of me settling down was right up there with us sharing a White Christmas in the Bahamas. "Let's go back to bed, Babe," I redirected things to safer waters. "It is your turn to be on top." Brooke, wearing one of my fresh t-shirts and nothing else, hopped off the sofa and let me lead her back to the bedroom for another round of 'not thinking about any other part of my screwed up life except the beautiful woman with me right now' sex. Twenty minutes later, Brooke had encased me in her wanton elixirs, was gyrating her hips as she stroked me inside her snatch while keeping me bound, blind and muffled. My phone rang. "Should I get that?" Brooke teased me. She moved enough to seize my cellular device. "The number is unlisted," she mused. "Who could it be?" I gave a muffled response. She removed the ball-gag enough for me to speak. "Work," I repeated. "It might be work. I'm on-call 24/7." "Damn," Brooke undoubtedly pouted (still blindfolded). She answered the call then placed the phone to my ear. "Cáel, a Security Detail detachment is on their way to your quarters as we speak. You will recognized the code they will use," Katrina's icy calm voice informed me. "Katrina, what is wrong?" I inquired. Normally, I wouldn't get an answer. Katrina's tone made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. "There has been an incident at your Father's home in Chicago. We do not have clear intelligence at this time. I may have more when you get in," she related. "Understood," I replied. My passionate storm abated and I felt empty inside. Dad. "Cáel?" Brooke sounded worried. "We need to get dressed," I murmured. I had to let Timothy know something was truly wrong. I needed to get Brooke home safely. I; I needed to know more than I did right then. Brooke uncuffed me quickly. I barely had my boxers on when there was a light series of raps on the door. I sprang up, opened my bedroom door, surprising Odette. She must have come back to work a few minutes earlier and was unwinding with some low-volume TV and some sofa time. Timothy was asleep already. "Odette, go back to Timothy's room and warn him something bad may have happened. Go!" I warned. Odette scampered back. Brooke was at my back, trying to move into the main room. "Brooke, stay here. If something unusual happens, hide in the bedroom and don't come out until the police get here. Do you understand?" I met her confusion with an iron stare. She nodded. There was another, more insistent, rapping at my apartment door. I crept up to the portal and gave a counter-knock. "Crab Fisher-woman," a female voice said from the other side. "My Father's Sister," I responded. It was an imperfect code, but effective given the circumstances. I double checked through the spy hole, unlocked the door and let three SD Amazons inside. How bad was it? I doubted these ladies would know more than I did. In Hittite, she said; "Ishara," the leader said, "we have orders to escort you to Havenstone immediately." They weren't blindly expecting me to follow instructions. They had a directive they were following to the best of their ability. In Hittite, she said; “ Will a team be watching my domicile?" I asked. The leader nodded. "We need to take a female I have been with tonight to her dwelling before going on to Havenstone." The SD team leader nodded again. There was no condescension, or argument. They were following orders as if it was my right to issue them. That was how bad things were. Time to get back to English. "Brooke, finish getting dressed. I'm taking you home," I called out. Quite frankly, along with my desire to see Brooke back home safely was my instinct to not split up my guardians. Better a longer trip than two smaller, more vulnerable groups. I was in the process of getting dressed in the living room when Timothy and Odette came out. "Bro?" Timothy asked. "My Father's home was attacked. I have no other details right now," I explained with a sinking feeling in my heart. Timothy read my soul, came up and engulfed me in his mighty arms. Odette added herself to the heart-felt love-pile. "Do you want me to take Odette and head back to Queens for a while?" Timothy asked. He sensed we had limited time. "They," and by 'they' he knew I meant Havenstone, "will have a team watching this place. There are not enough resources to go back and forth to work. I wish I could tell what would keep you safe, but I don't know anymore." "We'll stay put," Timothy declared. Odette nodded. "We'll be here for you when you get back. If any of these psycho-broads want to stop by from time to time, I won't say no." I shot a look to the security team leader and she gave a curt 'okay'. "You'll need an overnight bag!" Odette squeaked. Off she went. Brooke finished getting dressed and came to my side. To your average Lothario, what she did might seem odd. To me, it was the normal refrain; Brooke shoved her panties into my jean's pocket. That was a not so subtle 'Call Me' for when I got back. "Three minutes, Ish; Cáel," the leader updated me. My amateur guess was this was the team from across the street. They had back-up vehicles and personnel streaking down from Havenstone to provide extra security for my move. "Velma," she gave me her name. A quick description was in order. The three Amazons all had Bluetooth devices, shooting glasses and steel-gray long coats that had to be uncomfortable in this upper seventies evening heat. Underneath, they had on light ballistic body armor on their torsos, arms, and legs. Even their dull grey, all-terrain boots looked armored. They had a hip holstered sidearm, most likely a back-up pistol at the small of their backs and a deadly blade, or three. Their main deterrence was their H and K UMP 40 caliber; my second favorite Amazon killing device. Timothy snuck off to get my toiletries, returning around the same time Odette trundled out with an overnight (or three) bag. There was a final round of hugs then Velma indicated it was time to leave. The fourth member of the team was stationed at the top of the third floor stairs. That gave her a good view of my hallway as well as the passage going up and down. Two SD's to the front, Velma and the fourth watching our backs and Brooke caught between giddy and freaking terrified. Things got even more exciting when we hit the bottom of the stairs. Two more ladies were waiting. They put a trench coat on Brooke and she nearly collapsed. The freed up Amazon took my bag while the second put a trench coat on me. I grunted as well. This bitch had to weigh 25 kg. That was some serious ballistic and blast protection. The closest newcomer began attaching my pistol with hip holster on my side while Brooke was 'buttoned up'. I was slipped a few spare clips then was buttoned up as well. "I'm not sure I can walk in this thing," Brooke gave me a weak smile. "Don't worry," I smiled, "I'll carry you." I slipped my arm around Brooke's waist and, on Velma's signal, we rushed out to the middle of three Mercedes Armored GL550s. The doors had barely shut before we were racing away from my favorite home. I walked Brooke up to her apartment, we hugged, kissed and she insisted I go to the Hamptons with her this weekend. I left with that promise unanswered. I didn't ask the Security Detail to do anything else outrageous and they didn't give me any crap about Brooke. Their vigilance didn't end at Havenstone either. No; they formed a tight knot of outward hostility until we marched into Katrina's office. Even then, they spread out over the Executive Services offices as an extended perimeter. Katrina's office was another step up on the unsettling meter. It was Katrina, Saint Marie, Buffy, Helena, and a woman I didn't know yet seemed to belong. "Excuse me?" Saint Marie shot a hostile look my way; actually right behind me. "Don't mind me," Pamela snorted. She was in the process of sneaking into the room. "I'm here for moral support," she concluded then took a seat. "Cáel?" Katrina queried, as if I could somehow exile Pamela from the room. "What's going on?" I began the meeting instead. "Your Father is dead," Katrina reported. If someone ever asked me what it felt like to have an arm cut off, I could truthfully answer them 'Yes'. Dad. "From what we have been able to gather from the video and audio gear the four Amazon Security Detail team assigned to watch over him transmitted, the team was setting up a perimeter when three vehicles with ten men stopped on the juncture of Janus and Kerr streets and approached the house. The team leader made formal recognition and was attacked," Katrina told me. "Are they okay?" I mumbled. I didn't want to know how my Dad died. Had he been in pain? Which side had killed him? Would knowing make a damn bit of difference? "Three of the four members were killed," Saint Marie interjected. "The team commander was killed instantly. The second died defending that corner of your Father's domicile. The third member was killed attempting to rescue your Father. The surviving member stopped the enemy from escaping with your Father's body, but was too badly injured to extricate herself and is now in police custody." "What are we going to do about this?" I inquired. Pamela was a lying bitch. She'd lied to Brianna because the truth would have gotten me and Dad killed. Dad had still died, but Pamela had kept me alive. "There is nothing we can do," the stranger spoke up. "Troika of House Šauška." "You are joking, right?" I stared at her. "He was a male, not of;” Troika began to state. "You do know your Amazon law, correct?" I countered. She gave a curt tilt of the head. "Recount the means of succession to the Head of a House then please explain to the room how my Father, the descendant of Vranus, fits into all that." Cha-ching! "Oh, by the Seven Goddesses!" Saint Marie jumped up. "They murdered the Head of House Ishara!" Katrina was already back on top; ahead of the game. "But what does that make him?" Troika pointed at me. "It confirms him as the Head of House Ishara. We can sugar-coat it and say Cáel, being the only 'active' member of Havenstone 'represented' the Head of House Ishara. By our traditions though, Ferko Nyilas was the lawful head of a 'First' House. Certainly four days were not enough time to settle the manner in an acceptable way," Katrina said. "At the very least, House Ishara would have been given 28 days to resolve any matters of succession internally," Katrina pointed out. "There was no deception. Cáel worked for Havenstone, so was our active member. The existence of his Father was known. It is in his basic file. It was highly unlikely that ANY House wanted to bring another male into the mix so the matter of his ascension was left unquestioned." "This is Casus Belli," Troika stood up and declared in a firm voice. "I will inform Hayden. We must know the perpetrators of this act, Katrina. I will prepare to relate this breach of the Protocols to the other Signatories." "To make sure I have this straight, I can defend any member of my family, no matter who they are, without violating the Protocols?" I questioned. "Can I kill them?" "That is correct," Troika appeared confused. "Other Signatories cannot harm, or detain your family in any way." I gave a bitter, hollow laugh. Dad; Dad wouldn't have understood, but Mom would have, no doubt. "Troika; hell, everyone but Pamela and Katrina, I am Cáel Nyilas, grandson of The Cáel O'Shea and those people who murdered my Dad very well may have been my family," I felt like crying. That was good because I was crying. I had talked to Dad early Monday morning. I had been so nervous about not leaving any trace of Mom behind that I couldn't recall if I said 'I love you' to him. I'd never get the chance to make up for that oversight. As I began to take in the faces around me, I realized Ishara had gifted me with a respite. No one else knew who Cáel O'Shea was; yet. "Troika," I started out. I could tell she was still having difficulty with the 'Man as someone worthy of stating an opinion' moment. "When the Council decides that the Illuminati have breached the Protocols, do I have a deciding vote on what we do; since Dad was my family?" "No," Troika clarified, "and what makes you think it was the Illuminati?" Pamela laughed at her. "Because I killed Cáel's Grandfather when that man was head of the Illuminati; slit his throat and rendered him incapable of resuscitation. The rest of that twisted clan have only now discovered that there is a successor, genetically, to the Old Man and you are looking at him," Pamela related in an amused tone. "Perhaps; just perhaps; they were interested in what happened to Cáel's Mother and the man she mated with to produce Cáel; who also happened to be the Head of House Ishara and now leaves this man (me) as the last of his kind; coming and going," Pamela finished, "for both the Amazons and the O'Shea family/the Illuminati." Troika was having problems fitting all the puzzle pieces. Saint Marie cut to the heart of the matter because she listens to me. "If you go to war against the O'Shea's you are being forced to fight your own family," the Golden Mare stared at me in shock. "Let me get this straight," Troika stood up, waving for silence. "When the O'Shea's killed Ferko Nyilas, they murdered the Head of a First House. They also murdered a member of their own family by way of marriage." She seemed totally flummoxed. Everyone agreed about how screwed up everything was. Breach? No Breach? "Welcome to life working with Cáel Nyilas," Katrina declared. There was a pause. "I'll let the professionals figure out the finer points of diplomacy. I have to go," I said. "Were do you think you are going?" Buffy popped up. Until this moment, she'd had no role in affairs. My safety though; "I am going home to bury my Father, Buffy," I announced. This was not a discussion. "Shouldn't we take his body to the cliffs?" Troika suggested. "My Father will face the Afterlife with my Mother at his side. It was his wish and I'm not going to start dictating to my Ancestors now," I sighed. I was trying to make light of my pain. By the looks on their faces, I was failing. I had barely exited the office, Buffy, Helena and Pamela in tow. The security team was closing in and my phone rang. "Cáel Nyilas," I answered sadly. "Mr. Nyilas, this is Investigator Brewster of the Burnham Police Department. I need a few moments of your time," a man's voice requested. I hesitated. I looked at my watch. "Yes; Dad?" I finally spoke. "Mr. Nyilas, your father seems to have been murdered late this evening in a bungled attempted burglary," he lied. It was a good lie. If he really believed a bungled robbery consisted of two heavily armed groups shooting a small residential home to pieces he was; nah, he was lying. "I'm on the next flight to Chicago," was the response I chose. I had so many 'loser' replies to choose from. "That would be helpful, Mr. Nyilas," he told me. "Do you know when I can expect you?" "Ah; I have no idea when the next plane from New York to Chicago is, but if I can buy a ticket on it, I'm there," I countered. Admittedly, me having a plane ticket for home would have been damn suspicious. "One last thing, Mr. Nyilas, do you have any idea why someone would want to murder your father? Anything you could tell us could be of great assistance," he pressed. "Yes, I have a clue who murdered my Father and I'll point you to the dead bodies when I'm done," I snapped; quite literally and mentally snapped. Pause. "Mr. Nyilas, I understand you are upset, but do not do anything rash. Now, could your father have been murdered for anything you might have done, or are doing?" Det. Brewster kept is game face on. "We'll have this chat when I get to Chicago. Until then, take care," I said before hanging up. "Smooth," Pamela gently chastised me. "I actually liked him going all 'Mafia Don' on that cop," Buffy countered. "I'll arrange for Havenstone to get us transportation to Chicago," Helena added. "No," I countermanded her. "You two stay here and finish up business. Join me late Tuesday night, or early Wednesday morning." By the looks Buffy and Helena gave me they were surprised; and proud. I was keeping to my 'Runner' induction time table. My family would not be diminished by this tragedy. It would grow. Come Wednesday morning, we would add twenty new voices to Ishara's war cry. "I'll take the first commercial flight available," I continued. "We cannot protect you on a civilian aircraft, Ishara," Velma warned me. "They; the authorities are expecting me to show up at O'Hare, so I'm showing up at O'Hare, like a normal person," I reminded her. "I'll also need to know at what hospital they are keeping our sister." Our sister; the sole surviving Amazon who nearly gave her life for Dad. The SD picked up on that immediately. Another leap had been made. I wasn't a masculine monster, raging against a female warrior who had failed. By the tone of my voice, they knew I was in grief yet not overcome by it. She was the last member of the Host to see my Father alive and she might hold the closure I needed. "It will be done," Velma decided. "We will have your team meet you at O'Hare." "My team?" I asked. "Rachel; her team," Velma clarified. That was enough good for me. "Oh, and get Pamela a ticket as well. I'd hate to have her mug another passenger and take theirs," I sighed. Pamela patted me on the back; an 'atta boy'. (Monday Noon) (The hospital) That was not the first time I wondered about how fatal Pamela had been in her prime. In fact, I wasn't sure that post-60 wasn't her best time yet. The only mistake the police officer guarding the Amazon's hospital room made was to sit in a chair. Pamela had long ago mastered the peon-craft that Rosetta had started to teach me. The policeman looked up, stared right through her then looked the other way. His gaze never swept back in my direction. She jabbed him quickly underneath both arms, paralyzing them for a few seconds. That was all she needed. Hers hand clamped over his eyes and on his throat, cutting off the blood flow to the brain before his hands could recover. He appeared to the outside world to have taken a nap. According to Pamela, we had roughly three minutes before he came around. Pamela kept walking down the hall as if nothing happened. I came ten steps behind, guarded by a gun-less Rachel as I entered the Intensive Care Unit. A few of the staff looked our way, but no one impeded our progress. According to the Duty Nurse, the Amazon had exited surgery barely an hour ago. Her eyes opened to slits as I approached her beside. "We stand before the Eye of the World," I whispered. That meant surveillance. "I cannot tell you what is in my heart. My name is Cáel Nyilas. Does that name mean anything to you?" Her hand flopped. I put two fingers into her feeble gasp. One squeeze; yes. "I am grateful for your prowess and I share in your sorrow for those who will no longer fight in this life. Please heal and grow strong for this is the start, not the finish," I completed. She squeezed my fingers once more. I stepped aside, letting Rachel take my place. They didn't exchange words but communicated volumes. We slipped out of the room while the guard was still groggy. Pamela was nowhere to be seen. That proved to be pre-sentient when a group of people with the propensity to flash IDs caught up to me at the ground floor. Had the backdrop of this fiasco not been the death of my Father, I might have enjoyed the twitching/counter-twitching going on between Rachel, who desperately wanted any one of her guns, and the cops who were picking up on that desire. "Mr. Nyilas, I am;” and the introductions came pouring in. I had Theodora Chumwell and Brock Miklos, Special Agents of the FBI, John Rios, Special Agent with the ATF, Investigator Horace Brewster from the Burnham PD and Homicide Detective Lisa Capella from the Chicago PD. "We would like to talk with you," Theodora took charge. "Can I ask a question first?" I raised my hand. That appeared to set them off their game plan. "Of course," Theodora allowed. "Okay; FBI, ATF, a homicide detective from Chicago and the only law enforcement official who has any business being here," I finished with Brewster. "I may not be a Rhodes Scholar, but this seems a bit extreme for the burglary/murder of a long-time employee of Illinois Power and Light. Does anyone care to fill me on what the hell is going on?" I looked over the group. "Oh, and thank you Investigator Brewster for your call. I know I didn't take the news well." "Was that the part where you said you would point to the dead bodies?" Theodora took charge. "Yes, I think that was the gaff I was referring to," I agreed. "Why are you here, Mr. Nyilas?" Lisa Capella jumped in. She had decided to not go along with the FBI playbook. "I came to see the woman found alive in my family home," I replied smoothly. "She is probably still in surgery," Lisa gave a twist of the lips; sex. "Oh, she got out an hour ago," I enlightened them. "Let's take this conversation to FBI Headquarters," Theodora 'suggested'; you know, in the way that really wasn't a suggestion. "Have you gone to see that woman?" Lisa wouldn't let up; good for her. It was upsetting Theodora and I'd already decided that Brewster was my go-to guy on this investigation. "Yes," I responded to Lisa. "Isn't she under police protection?" Lisa and Theodora blurted out together. "There was a policeman at her door," I shrugged. "We went in and I talked to her." "What did she say?" Theodora brushed Lisa aside. "Nothing. She had one of those tubes down her throat. Whatever I said; well, I was emotional," I evaded. "She was barely conscious." Lisa was urgently contacting her guy who was supposed to be watching the only person in custody they had. He claimed to have 'blacked out'. He couldn't remember anyone coming in to see the woman and swore he hadn't been unconscious for any length of time. He went in, checked up on the Amazon and she was fine; for someone who had been shot six times. "We should go to the FBI offices," Theodora repeated. "I'm going home," I sighed sadly. "I want to go home." "It is still an active crime scene," John told me. "There won't be any civilian access for some time." Translation: until they decided to give me the carrot instead of the stick. "Please, come with us," FBI Special Agent Brock added his weight. "No. I'm going with Burnham PD," I countered. "You can find me there." "That's not how it works," Theodora upped her authority meter. Lisa had fallen back, trying to take in the bigger picture. Brewster was clearly trying to recall if he had Any history with me, or my Dad, that would make me trust him over the others. "I may be a liberal arts major from northern New England, but I know how a larynx works," I regarded Theodora. "Unless I choose to make a sound, it does nothing. Nothing is about to be all we have left to do and say." "Don't you want to help solve your Father's murder?" Brock tried to sound both sympathetic and threatening at the same time. I was suddenly bombarded with the taste of Lime Sherbet and Jalapenos Ice Cream. "Really? Fine; I'm going to hang out with the only person in this room I know is working on my Father's murder, not on their career," I reposed. "We are all trying to;” Lisa got out. "You maybe," I gave Lisa that much. "My Father made around $70,000 a year after twenty-six years for Illinois P and L. He had almost paid off the colossal debt built up by my Mother's illness and my college expenses." "As far as I know, he took out one loan his entire life; from a bank; and he paid it off," I continued. "He was a lapsed Catholic, a member of the IBEW; Local 9, and he jogged. He barely used e-mail and had no close friends I am aware of. The only woman he loved was my Mother and he mourned her to the day he died." "What about your activity?" Theodora inquired. We weren't running off to her playground; yet. Handcuffing a grieving son would look bad and, by my attitude, wouldn't make me talkative in the least. "I have the unfortunate habit of sleeping with every woman I meet," I began. "So that's over 200 erotic encounters. I get annoyed with people throwing their weight around," I continued, "which is why you and I are getting off on the wrong foot, Special Agent Theodora Chumwell. I work for Havenstone Commercial Investments, getting paid an insane amount to fetch laundry and keep secrets. Good enough?" "No, it is not;” Theodora simmered. "How did you know about the existence of the woman upstairs and how did you know to come here?" Lisa interrupted. "I grew up in that house, know the neighbors and know this is the closest EMS center to home," I lied convincingly. "Who are you?" Brewster decided that I wasn't exiting the hospital gracefully so turned on Rachel. She didn't speak, choosing to be creepy and brandishing a wallet instead. I kept forgetting that most full-blooded Amazons had minimal socialization with outsiders. Having graduated elementary school, everyone else knew this was a bizarre reaction. "Rachel Louis," Brewster read off the license in the wallet. A normal person would have acknowledged that somehow; not Rachel. "You are Rachel Louis, aren't you?" "Yes, she is," I intervened. "Rachel is a co-worker at Havenstone and she is misanthropic misandrist." There was a pregnant pause. The confusion wasn't with 'misanthropic'. It was a grown-up word in usage with colorful police-types. It was 'misandrist' that had them stumped. "Rachel is an unsociable man-hater," I explained. "Standing at my side in this hospital is ten kinds of Hell for her." "What kind of piece do you normal carry?" Rios asked her. Unsocial didn't mean stupid. "I use a Glock-22 and Rachel carries a STI Perfect 10," I answered. "We have been experiencing quite a gopher problem around the office." I could have done better; I should have done better. I was just too tired inside to create an inventive lie. "Do have gun licenses for those weapons?" Mr. ATF kept prodding at our cover story. "It seems Ms. Louis; is it Ms. Ms. Louis?" Brewster continued. I flashed Rachel a look which she interpreted correctly. "Yes, my name is Ms. Rachel Louis," Rachel replied. To me, "I find this distraction to be annoying. We should go." "It would seem Ms. Louis has all kinds of;” Brewster got out before Rachel snatched the wallet from his grip with the speed of a Peregrine Falcon. Brewster had this stunned look familiar to crows, doves and starlings the world over as one of their kin passed into the next life in a flash. A combination of 'No you didn't!' with 'what the flock?' "Ah;” Brewster got out. "On that note, I think we will be going," I shrugged. To Rachel, "You do not get out enough." "Can I see your wallet again?" Brewster was still confused by Rachel's rudeness. He was a cop for the love of God. People not wanting to go to jail do not snatch things from a cop's hands. "I gave you my wallet. I am not to blame if you used its time in your possession unwisely," Rachel counterattacked. "Unless there is a legal technicality, we shall be leaving. If there is a legal issue, here," she produced a business card with a flourish, "is the contact information for our legal department." Theodora took the card gingerly then read it. "Havenstone again," she mused. "Are you sure this is the path you wish to take, Mr. Nyilas?" "Are you insane?" I trembled with emotion. "I want to be back in New York, working my queue and thinking about what my date and I will be doing tonight. I want my Dad to be alive. I don't want to be thinking that the last time we talked I forgot to tell him I loved him." "Path, you Idiot!" I screamed at Theodora. Screw it, I was crying again. "Not a damn thing any of you can do will bring my Dad back to me; so fuck off!" In a strange way, that was what they had been looking for. Not my wounded soul, but my rage and pain toward a World suddenly found to be cruel and pointless. Behind my crumbling façade was another worry. Outside in the parking lot were three Amazons with weapons ready to rush to my aid. It wasn't that the Host was rash, or reckless, by nature. I was one of the fifty-six most important people in their society. Three other SD members had died in the defense of House Ishara already and they were damn sure those women would not have died in vain. I wasn't leaving in federal custody willingly and if I walked out in restraints, I wasn't sure if they would decide offing some law enforcement agents and staging my kidnapping was the best course of action. Remember, I wanted to bury my Father. They wanted to keep me alive. If those two goals collided, they would apologize after the fact. "Mr. Nyilas, I really believe we should;” Theodora got out then I brushed past her. It was a delicate moment and the chemistry between Rachel and I wasn't lost on most of them. She was a bodyguard yet my servant too. It was professional tribalism; two words that don't normally get along. Rios picked up on the other undercurrent. He recoiled from Rachel, retreating to buy space when/if Rachel attacked. Unlike the rest, he sensed that aggression by law enforcement would be met with lethal force. The Amazon didn't care about the badge and the legions of fellow officers backing it up. She was fearless. Things weren't over yet. "Mr. Nyilas, where are you going next?" Detective Lisa came after us. "I; I don't know," I muttered. "Where is my Father's body? I know he wanted to be cremated and buried beside Mom; I guess." Brewster came hurrying along. "He is at the Medical Examiner's Office," Lisa informed me. "Come with me." "Why don't you give me the address?" I sighed. "Do you and your buddy know your way around Chicago, Hometown Boy?" Lisa kept it up. She was hitting on me and lining me up at the same time. "How about we cut to the chase?" I looked at her with tear-soaked eyes. "We'll take my cars; cars with an 's'," I offered. "I am a hometown boy. I've never had a reason to locate the Medical Examiner before. Since I have a boatload of angry women with guns who will not fit into your sedan and leaving them behind isn't an option, mine is the only means of travel that makes sense." Low and behold, the two cops looked at each other then followed Rachel and I to our little caravan. We were too close for the officers to have missed Rachel snapping off some quick, coded instructions to her team; most likely to hide the seriously illegal firearms. To say the Amazons were not pleased with my decisions spoke volumes to their concern for me and lack of police experience. Pamela, who had beaten us back to the cars, seemed privately entertained as always. Rachel was reluctantly sitting up front. Lisa, Brewster and I were in the second row and Pamela sat in back. Not only did the two not get a good look at Pamela, she was perfectly placed to do all kinds of mischief unseen. "So the woman upstairs works with you?" Lisa asked as we pulled out. "Where to?" Tiger Lily (I still wasn't used to that name) requested of our Police 'buddies'. Lisa popped off the address. It was 'I'll scratch your back, you'll scratch mine'. Tiger Lily entered the data into the onboard computer and off we went. "No. She does not work for me, or my boss, directly. She was at my Father's on my behalf though I was unaware of it," I related. "Are you going to tell us what the hell happened?" Brewster prodded. "That I don't know. I am not personally aware of anyone who would want to kill my Father, or me," I answered. "Anyone who would want to get at me would come at me, not Dad," I continued. "I don't live in a fortress. It is a hardly spacious apartment near the East River. I share the place with my roommate, Timothy Denver, and a; companion by the name of Odette Sievert." "Companion? Is she; a working girl?" Lisa went searching. "No, I use the term companion to indicate she's too nice a girl for me. She's sweet, conscientious and giving. My only wish for Odette is that she finds a guy who can appreciate her a hell of a lot more than I do," I explained. "Timothy is my gay, body-building tattoo artist best friend. I've gotten the feeling he's busted some heads in his time. Hardly anything noteworthy." "Mr. Nyilas, have you ever considered that you live a very messy life?" Brewster pondered. "One does not 'consider' what one knows to be true. One knows it to be true and moves on," I grumbled. "Yes, I know I live a screwed up life." "What about your friends here?" Lisa indicated the other three women in the vehicle. This elicited another groan from me. "Investigator Brewster; Horace and Detective Capella; Lisa, please call me Cáel. This is the point I accept that I am exhausted and not in any shape to make good decisions. I'll plead the Fifth," I confessed. "We already know you were in New York when your father was murdered, Mister; Cáel," Brewster stated. "Everyone we've talked to says you and your father were very close. Barring some expensive Life Insurance policy being taken out on him, we have no reason to suspect you had a direct hand in his death. Not being a suspect, that implies you have no Fifth Amendment, or Miranda Rights to hide behind; just so we are clear," Brewster schooled me. "I can make this game of footsy easy on all of you," Pamela whispered. The officers jolted in their seats. "Cáel cannot talk to you for the very reason the Fifth Amendment exists." "You are not like the rest of this menagerie," Lisa noted. "Nah, I kill people for a living. The rest of the group has some code of conduct that keeps you two alive," Pamela smiled. Those two didn't know what to make of Pamela's statement because it was so sincere yet incredible. "If Cáel tells you anything else he will be admitting to his involvement in a criminal conspiracy. Said conspiracy is why Ferko Nyilas is dead, but Cáel had nothing to do with it," Pamela enlightened them. Fact digestion time for the two law dogs. Brewster recovered faster. "But why was Ferko Nyilas murdered?" he asked. "The men didn't come to kill him," Pamela kept talking about the tea and crumpets. "They probably showed up to escort him to a place where some far more important scumbags could talk with him." "The all-girl squad was there and Ferko was caught in the crossfire," Lisa mumbled. "Why was there a firefight if his life was in danger and both sides wanted him alive?" "Stupidity," Pamela replied. "Give any group of people guns and then surprise them, stupid shit happens; I apologize Cáel." "I don't buy that," Brewster said. "They simply started shooting at each other; no." "Okay Horace, let me break it down for you. The ladies were told to go there and guard the guy without being told why. The men who showed up were most likely told to grab Ferko without knowing why either." "That makes no sense," Lisa protested. "Congratulations. That is why Cáel can't talk to you anymore," Pamela smirked. "This is the sort of crap he has inadvertently been caught up with; no fault of his own. If he did any of this on purpose, I'd kill him myself." "He is some poor schmuck who only wanted a 7 to 5 job, to make tons of money and bedding a different girl every night," Pamela teased me. "He's no criminal mastermind, or even a convincing criminal. If he has a failing it is that he tends to merely beat up people who deserve to have their spleens ripped out instead. I'm training him to be smarter than that." "Who are you?" Brewster gawked. Pamela gave a sinister smile. Lisa looked at me. "I've fought a woman with a twelve foot stick with a pointy bit of metal at the end with little thought to my personal safety. This lady (Pamela) scares me. She is with me because I have no means of stopping her and I put saving others a great deal of pain and suffering over my own unsettled nerves." "Do you really think you are that good?" Lisa half-turned around to face Pamela. "Do you want your gun back?" Pamela offered up a police issue Glock 22, grip first. My kind of gun. How sad. I was too depressed to seduce Officer Lisa. Brewster reached around to check is firearm. It was still there, much to his relief. "How did you do that?" Lisa wondered as she retrieved and inspected her weapon. Pamela tapped Brewster's shoulder with the man's magazine. Brewster was aghast. She'd stolen his gun, taken out the ammo and returned it without him noticing. "I found it on the floor. The truth is a bit more expensive than you are willing to pay at the moment, believe me," Pamela grinned. Why had Pamela showboated? She was buying me some mental respite. She was also exhibiting to the two police folks that there might be some truth to her outlandish tale of criminal conspiracies. Unlike the other Amazons, Pamela knew we had to maintain friendly relations with some part of law enforcement if I was going to bury my Father. (The Medical Examiner's Office) So much happens in life we rarely put the timespan of events in context. Talking with a person in line who turns out to make your day better/worse, become a friend and/or a date. In a matter of a few seconds your life has been altered. Two minutes later and you would have missed getting the concert tickets where you meet your future; whomever. Two minutes sooner and you get caught in the 'speed trap' instead of the other poor sap who you drive past as they sit on the side of the road keeping the patrol officer company. His/her insurance rate goes up while you have that extra money for later. Had we arrived two minutes earlier to the morgue; disaster aborted. Two minutes later would have equated to a frustrating mystery. Life was not so kind. It was the same group as before; Detective Lisa, Investigator Horace, Rachel and I. We had just added an Assistant Medical Examiner who was going over information garnered from the autopsy with the two cops. Pamela was 'checking things out', whatever that meant. The key to it all was Rachel being Rachel. Security Detail are more than simply elite fighting-women. They are also bodyguards, security specialist and normally stack a third specialty into the mix. When Rachel spotted five armed people in the hallway right outside the Medical Examiner's autopsy room, her alertness spiked. Only one was a uniformed police officer. Rachel was still gun-less. The two EMS personnel rolling an occupied body bag out on a gurney shouldn't have had on their heavy jackets on a late June afternoon. The other two men were chatting about something. That wasn't unusual. Where they were standing was; to Lisa's experienced eye. Rachel's heightened anxiety made Lisa double-check everything. Horace didn't know what was wrong yet when Lisa's hand came to rest on her piece, he put his hand on his Ruger SR45. "Excuse me," Lisa called out. No one stopped moving. "Excuse me," Lisa demanded in a louder voice. "I am Detective Lisa Capella, Chicago Police Department; Homicide Division. What is going on?" That was a reach. Bodies exit the morgue all the time. The two people with the body made sense. The two 'odd' fellows weren't breaking any law. In cop-talk, this was called 'gut instinct'. She produced her badge. There was a quick look by the two ambulance folk to the farther of the two 'talking' men. That group were rather competent, just not competent conmen. The two EMS guys turned and tried to give Lisa a causal look. "What can we do for you, officer?" the designated diplomat asked nonchalantly. "Whose body is that?" Lisa inquired. "I'm not sure; all we do is pick 'em up and take them to the appropriate funeral home," he shrugged. "Take ten seconds and show me the release order," Lisa gave a chilly command. The cop at the far end of the hall; the one with the door that lead to the loading/unloading area, was starting to clue in that something wasn't right. "Oh, by the Great Pumpkin, this is bad," Brewster muttered under his breath like a thousand other fathers who engaged in the daily struggle to not curse at work so they wouldn't curse around their children. "Of course, Detective Capella," the diplomat nodded. "Is there a problem?" He carefully pulled out his smart phone and handed it over. Lisa wasn't born yesterday. She handed the phone to me instead of looking at it herself. She was keeping her eyes on the guys with guns. They really did have an order to transfer my Father to a mortuary. Apparently I had requested this be done; without my knowledge. "Cáel Nyilas requested his father be taken to the Green Meadows mortuary in Cicero," I informed Lisa, Rachel and Horace. "I need to talk to Mr. Nyilas," Lisa informed them. "If I can't talk to him, I can't let the body leave this building. This is an ongoing investigation." The 'diplomat' was worried yet Lisa had given him an out. After I returned his phone, he called his off-site boss, who gave him a number which the diplomat gave to Lisa. Lisa called 'me' without my phone ringing. Even so, 'I' confirmed the authorization. The four gunmen relaxed as Lisa hung up. "One more question," Lisa pulled a 'Columbo', "was this a rush job, or are you all 'not ready for prime time players'?" The 'diplomat' made one last lunge at deception. "Detective Capella, our work order is legitimate," he shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what you mean?" "Funeral homes have their own uniforms; they do not dress as EMS," Lisa deconstructed their illusions. "The bodies of murder victim are not released by the Medical Examiner until a cause of death is known and that information is released to the homicide detective assigned to the case; that would be me, if there was any doubt. Your two buddies down the hall could have read and critiqued the Magna Carta in the time it has taken for you to do your 'song and dance'," Lisa pointed out. "Oh, and the real Cáel Nyilas is standing next to me. Whoever talked with me on the phone is going to jail too. Now I suggest the four of you face the wall, put your hands over your head, palms against the wall and no one will get hurt." Darwin check time; they drew their guns. Of course they drew their guns. Why would they not draw their guns considering the farthest enemy was all of 4 meters away and the only immediately cover was my Dad's horizontal corpse? Gurneys tend to be lightweight and mostly empty space. The quickest on the draw was one of the two 'talkers'. He whipped out a 357 Magnum revolver and popped two shots into the police officer next to him; right in the center mass at less than 2 meters; ouch. Rachel was next, making a diving front roll between the two cops, toward the two fake EMS guys. I was right behind her, except my plan was to vault Dad's body and get at the second talker. I was not acting sanely. The second talker went in the next split second. He had brought a sawed-off automatic shotgun to the fight. His first salvo blew a chunk out of the wall next to Lisa's hip. She was less than an eye-blink behind as she put two slugs into the 'diplomat's' armored chest. He was kind enough to drop his Mac 11 from his twitching fingers and into Rachel's hands. Less than a single heartbeat later, the 'diplomat's EMS buddy revealed his own Mac 11. His mistake was not shooting his first target; Brewster. He was tracking Rachel and me instead, hoping to catch us together in a spray of lead. The general feeling was that, for all his law enforcement experience, Investigator Brewster had never actually shot at anyone before. His cop instincts kicked into overdrive. The perpetrators appeared to be wearing body armor and possessed a small arsenal of illegal weapons. His aim tweaked up, he pulled the trigger and a 45 ACP round effectively decapitated his target; our first confirmed casualty. My encounter with the Latin Kings had been a lesson in poor tactical flexibility. This time, by unspoken agreement, the two talkers were exercising their tactical acumen as they began withdrawing toward the exit. With the short range, width of the hall and lack of cover, being shot at by a shotgun, or a 357 didn't make much difference. I was trying to jump onto the gurney and launch myself at the two when my toe caught on the bottom of Dad's body, turning my heroic rush into a face-plant on Father. The men's cover fire worked on Lisa and Horace. Lisa, being more exposed, had to dive flat. Horace crouch-ran to Rachel. Rachel, with her submachine gun, was firing a steady stream of bullets from between the gurney's top surface and bottom shelf. Her shots shattered shotgun guy's shins and blasted off his knee caps. As that bastard screamed and toppled forward, Rachel emptied the magazine into both his thighs and his right hip. By the copious nature of the blood spray, an artery had been clipped, if not severed. Horace grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me off the gurney, down to his side. Lisa fired off a few shots at the vanishing leader, but he was already out the door. Rachel was rifling the closest EMS's headless body, looking for a fresh clip for the M 11. "Don't," Horace cautioned her. Lisa was running to the door. "Rachel, leave the gun and follow me," I commanded. "Wait," Horace called out. He was in an impossible situation. The bold Assistant ME began looking for any survivors, starting with the diplomat. Detective Capella was chasing after a possible cop-killer. I was already running after Lisa and Horace couldn't ride herd on Rachel, catch me and support Lisa all at once. Rachel muttered in Hittite 'dirty goat' at my fleeting form. I was sure its true meaning was far nastier. "Da-darn it," Horace grimaced as he started rushing after the three of us. I doubted it was any consolation to Horace that Lisa shot me an evil look when I caught up to her at the loading dock. There were no cars peeling away and had the bad guy fled out the huge doors 15 meters away, she would have seen him. Rachel arrived next. "Secure my Father's body," I instructed. She wasn't pleased but she wasn't talking back either. Horace showed up last of all. He was talking over his walky-talky, updating the Chicago PD on all the crazy, tragic crap that had gone down. Rachel slipped past Horace on her way back to Dad. The unspoken order was for her to re-arm and stay close, something she couldn't do under Horace's watchful gaze. Lisa and Horace were working out a plan to take their perpetrator down and it didn't include me. I was a civilian after all. My thinking was traipsing in a different direction. They were thinking criminal evasion. I was thinking stone cold, bad-ass killer. He may have already killed one police officer in cold blood. Why not make it three? There was also the mathematics of it all. Two guns are more likely to hit a target than one; I had learned that bit of tactical insight from my time with Aya. My disadvantage was my advantage. I didn't have a gun so I didn't have to position myself so I could shoot at anyone else. "Here I go," I alerted the two officers. My body was flying onto the loading deck before they could stop me. My cockamamie idea saved my life. Maybe he thought I stumbled and lost my piece. Maybe, at the last second, he saw through my deception. Maybe he was wondering what the last episode of 'Defiance' would be like. We'll never know. According to Lisa, he was tracking my fall with his 3 57 Magnum. He didn't shoot because he only had two bullets left, hadn't been able to reload yet and his Berretta 9 mm back-up pistol was on the other side of his body. Two bullets; two cops, he was probably sure he could beat me to death. Anyway, when he figured out the sacrificial lamb was the unarmed me, he returned his aim to the entryway, Lisa and Horace. The guy wasn't behind any sort of cover. He was pressed against the wall so he wouldn't be able to bring his other pistol into play inside that first split second. When Lisa shot him, it had to hurt, but didn't put him down. She shot again; missed. He shot, missed, shot again hitting Lisa and knocking her back and down. The leader pivoted off the wall, bringing his Berretta to bare on Investigator Brewster. A lifetime inside the blink of an eye; Horace's bullet hit the criminal; major brain splatter. Poor Horace. Horace was falling onto his side, taking a wild shot and hoping to keep the gunman from shooting Lisa and I when he accidentally ended the man's existence. The lead bad guy's final shot zipped passed Horace's left shoulder, over my legs and ricocheted off the loading dock wall and into space. Good old Lisa, she staggered to her feet then stumbled over to the gunman, seeking some signs of life. He was alive. Horace's 45 slug had 'only' removed the top half of his brain so the heart and lungs were still being told to beat and breath. As she was making her own call for Emergency Services, a piece of the man's skull that had been clinging to the wall plopped down. That broke Horace. He began vomiting. I rolled over to a sitting position. Rachel peeked in then utilized her blue tooth to stop the rest of the SD team from swarming me in a public building. Cops began showing up. As soon as Detective Capella had made her initial report and dealt with the traumatic injuries among the survivors, she turned on me. "Are you insane!" she screamed at yours truly. "Yes," I muttered. "I've been trying to tell you that for over an hour now." "This is not a joking matter," Lisa moved into my personal space. Was I really so far gone I didn't want sex? Nah; I could do her. "I could have killed people." "To be fair," I stood up, "you didn't kill anyone." The policeman was clinging to life, the 'diplomat' had been saved by his body armor and the second talker's prospects didn't look promising. "Horace buried two and I'm betting the guy Rachel shot isn't going to survive having both his femoral arteries cut. Two decades of Law  and  Order has taught me that some sort of Internal Affair's investigation is going to happen. I imagine there is a great deal of surveillance video so you should be vindicated quickly. We are still going to part ways for a while," I pointed out. "Take care." I made to leave. "Where do you think you are going?" Lisa grabbed my arm. "You were involved in a gunfight in a major municipal building. You can't walk away." "Yes I can," I grunted. "Horace, I've pointed you at the dead bodies," I told the Burnham investigator. "Good luck," I patted him on the shoulder. The look he came back with wasn't one of resigned defeat. Oh no, he was going to figure out what the fuck was going on, or else. The rest of the Chicago PD wasn't letting to let us leave either, so off Rachel and I were taken to the closest Precinct where we were non-communicative. (Back with the Feds) Theodora rescued me and Rachel into Federal custody where we were equally useless. It didn't take me long to figure out that, compared to Rachel, I was being downright verbose. If me being a jackass was a bonus for the Feds, they didn't exhibit an ounce of appreciation. I really loved Special Agent John Rios getting all 'super ass-kicker' on me. I was looking at 'serious' federal jail time. I was a 'domestic terrorist' and under the Patriot Act; then I fell out of my chair laughing. I was fatigued; my ability to separate desire from reality was fading plus I always fought back with my wits before my fists. "I've been awake for thirty-six hours," I chuckled as I regained my seat. "What is your excuse for being delusional?" I snorted. "I trip up cocky bastards like you all the time," John sat on the table, hovering above me. "You think you've got all the angles covered. You don't, Mr. Nyilas. People like you take things for granted, screw up and then you are all turning on each other like rats." "Ugh," I sighed. "Fine, Brainiac, what am I doing wrong? To clarify the question for you, what crime am I involved with that makes me a criminal, a terrorist, or a criminal terrorist?" "Guns, Cáel Nyilas," John sneered. "With all the people running around with all those firearms, it is pretty freaking obvious." "Wow; uh; John;” I started. <

Welcome to No Disclosure, ladies and gentleman. Your source for the weirdest news all over the world. Dumb criminals, crazy people, pop culture shenanigans, business blunders and everything in between. Listened to all over the world, No Disclosure makes us feel like the wackiness humanity's always up to is just down the street. We are all part of the human tribe, but some members of that tribe.... ....need to take a nap or something. Enjoy! And if you enjoyed this podcast, leave a review on your platform of choice. Good, bad or indifferent, reviews help. ---------------------------------- Head to No Disclosure's home website, asylum817.com to keep up with all things No Disclosure, as well as the host. Billie Dean Shoemate III is an author with over 40 novels published, a master-trained painter, host of the Strange Places Podcast, and multi-instrumentalist musician with multiple albums released. To check out Billie's books, albums, paintings and other artistic ventures, head to asylum817.com. ---------------------------------- This podcast can also be heard on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, iHeart Radio, Pandora, and wherever you get your Podcast listening experience. ---------------------------------- Want to promote your brand, YouTube channel, Etsy page, charity, event or podcast on the show? I am selling No Disclosure's ad space! Mid roll ads, beginning ads, bottom of the show ads, all of it. Click the link below to get yourself some of that sweet, sweet ad space on the fastest growing weird news podcast on the planet. The podcast that is working hard to take down radio and maybe rule the world if I am feeling saucy. LINK BELOW! https://www.fiverr.com/share/mgzw1R ---------------------------------- DISTROKID AFFILIATE LINK: https://distrokid.com/vip/seven/3128872 ---------------------------------- Be a Patron! https://www.patreon.com/asylum817 ---------------------------------- This video is brought to you by the A Bit of A Christie Podcast! LINK BELOW: abitpod.com --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/nodisclosure/support

I'm walkin' here! A part of New Yorkers' daily routine that marks a true Knickerbocker from a newbie is now legal. Jaywalking, or crossing the street outside the crosswalk, was legalized in the Big Apple Saturday after Mayor Eric Adams failed to either sign or veto the legislation 30 days after it was passed by the City Council and sent to his desk.

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

11-4 Adam and Jordana 11a hour

Justine McIntyre kicks off the week with Jimmy Zoubris, special advisor to the Mayor, and Meeker Guerrier, Commentator at Noovo and RDS. Valerie Plante remains convinced that her party will remain in power Quebec's health minister Christian Dube is set to table a law to force new doctors to practice in the public sector 2024 has seen a major spike in calls to 311 about social issues such as homelessness, mental health and drugs Jaywalking has now been legalised in New York. Do you jaywalk, and should Montreal follow suit?

Die Themen: Einhorn-Appreciation; Jaywalking in New York jetzt erlaubt; Trump treibt “Müll”-Schlacht dankend voran; Noch ein Wirtschaftsgipfel ohne Habeck und Lindner?; Ärztepräsident will Teilzeit-Krankschreibung; VW-Krise - von wegen abgehobene Arbeiterelite; Thyssen-Mitarbeiter sollen Wasser, Kaffee und Kekse selber zahlen; United Autoworkers zwischen den Stühlen und Aldi eröffnet Billig-Weihnachtsmärkte Du möchtest mehr über unsere Werbepartner erfahren? Hier findest du alle Infos & Rabatte: https://linktr.ee/ApokalypseundFilterkaffee

Today on the Matt Walsh Show, New York City has abolished its jaywalking laws. Now, New Yorkers are free to get run over in the street, all in the name of “racial equity.” This is just a small taste of the kind of madness we'll see nationwide if Kamala is elected. Also, Donald Trump somehow continues to up his troll game. His latest stunt is the funniest one yet. And, Democrats are running ads claiming that Republicans want to ban porn nationwide. Click here to join the member-exclusive portion of my show: https://bit.ly/4bEQDy6 Ep.1476 - - - DailyWire+: My hit documentary “Am I Racist?” Is NOW AVAILABLE on DailyWire+! Head to https://amiracist.com to become a member today and use code DEI for 35% off! Make The Daily Wire your hub for election coverage and tune in November 5th for live, real-time poll results and analysis! Join now at https://dailywire.com/subscribe Get your Matt Walsh flannel here: https://bit.ly/3EbNwyj - - - Today's Sponsors: Black Forest Supplements - Try NMN today! Limited Buy Two Get One Free 48hr deal at https://blackforestsupplements.com/walsh PureTalk - Get one year free of DW+ Insider: https://www.PureTalk.com/Walsh ZipRecruiter - Rated #1 Hiring Site. Try ZipRecruiter for FREE! https://www.ZipRecruiter.com/WALSH - - - Socials:  Follow on Twitter: https://bit.ly/3Rv1VeF Follow on Instagram: https://bit.ly/3KZC3oA Follow on Facebook: https://bit.ly/3eBKjiA Subscribe on YouTube: https://bit.ly/3RQp4rs

A daily non-partisan, conversational breakdown of today's top news and breaking news stories This Week's Sponsors:  – LMNT – Free Sample Pack with any LMNT drink mix purchase | Code: MoNews – Boll & Branch Bedding & Sheets – 20% Off 1st Order + Free Shipping | CODE: MONEWS – Factor Meals – Ready-to-eat, chef-prepared delivered meals | 50% Off | CODE: monews50  Headlines: – Welcome to Mo News (00:00) – Five Days Until Election Day: Harris Cleaning Up Biden Gaffe (04:40) – New Polls On The Blue Wall (08:15) – Trump Claims Voter Fraud In PA (09:15) – Spain Battles Deadliest Flood Disaster In Decades As Death Toll Rises To 95 (18:30) – Lebanon, Israel Could Agree To Ceasefire Within Days, Lebanese Prime Minister Says (19:30) – Trump Told Netanyahu He Wants Gaza War Over By The Time He Enters Office~ Times Of Israel (21:00) – Economy's Hot Streak Continues (21:45) – Jaywalking Is a New York Tradition. Now It's Legal, Too. (23:00) – Viral Appetizer Sends Chili's Sales Surging (25:40) – On This Day In History (27:15) — Mosheh Oinounou (@mosheh) is an Emmy and Murrow award-winning journalist. He has 20 years of experience at networks including Fox News, Bloomberg Television and CBS News, where he was the executive producer of the CBS Evening News and launched the network's 24 hour news channel. He founded the @mosheh Instagram news account in 2020 and the Mo News podcast and newsletter in 2022. Jill Wagner (@jillrwagner) is an Emmy and Murrow award- winning journalist. She's currently the Managing Editor of the Mo News newsletter and previously worked as a reporter for CBS News, Cheddar News, and News 12. She also co-founded the Need2Know newsletter, and has made it a goal to drop a Seinfeld reference into every Mo News podcast. Follow Mo News on all platforms: Website: www.mo.news Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mosheh/ Daily Newsletter: https://www.mo.news/newsletter Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@monews Twitter: https://twitter.com/mosheh TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@mosheh Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MoshehNews Snapchat: https://t.snapchat.com/pO9xpLY9

NYC Just Legalized Jaywalking bonus 43 Thu, 31 Oct 2024 01:49:51 +0000 4Xfpl2PDW8Q19X8ZxfPV8Wv8ZZWnVOZb news,pop culture,comedy,society & culture The Mens Room Daily Podcast news,pop culture,comedy,society & culture NYC Just Legalized Jaywalking From sinners to saints, kings to commoners, rock stars and regular folks. Everyone is here and they're sharing their stories. Sit down and grab a beer with the men of The Mens Room. 2024 © 2021 Audacy, Inc. Society & Culture False https://player.amperwavepodcasting.com?feed-link=https%3A%2F%2F

New York City will no longer be ticketing for jaywalking. Legislation passed by the City Council officially became law over the weekend, making it no longer illegal to jaywalk. Sgt. Spencer Cannon with the Utah County Sheriff's Office talks with Dave and Debbie about this new legislation and the pitfalls that could come with it.  

Does your screen time outweigh your sleep time? Reward being offered for missing Davis County police K9 Putting the family budget under the microscope for better spending Jaywalking now legal in New York Coping with election anxiety

Is Biden trying to sabotage Kamala's campaign. Will Trump pardon President and Hunter Biden? Jaywalking is now legal in NYC.

This Day in Legal History: Lend-Lease ActOn October 30, 1941, President Franklin D. Roosevelt approved an unprecedented $1 billion in aid to support Allied forces fighting in World War II, marking a critical milestone under the Lend-Lease Act. This act, passed earlier in March 1941, allowed the United States to provide essential military supplies to countries whose defense was deemed vital to U.S. interests, even as the U.S. maintained a stance of non-engagement. By authorizing such substantial aid, Roosevelt helped secure critical resources for Allies, particularly the United Kingdom and the Soviet Union, who were facing significant challenges against Axis powers. The agreement transformed the U.S. from a neutral party to an "arsenal of democracy," emphasizing its commitment to the Allies while avoiding direct involvement in combat. Lend-Lease assistance encompassed a range of support, from food and raw materials to airplanes, ships, and ammunition. This aid was instrumental in sustaining Allied resistance, as it enabled countries like Britain to continue fighting even as they faced severe shortages. The success of the Lend-Lease program also laid the groundwork for formal alliances and collaborative military strategies between the U.S. and the Allied nations. While the U.S. would formally enter the war after the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, the Lend-Lease Act solidified its role as a major force in the global conflict.The Lend-Lease Act ultimately expanded beyond initial estimates, with over $50 billion in supplies and support sent to Allied nations by the war's end, demonstrating the scale of U.S. support. This historic decision on October 30 marked the beginning of the U.S.'s active yet indirect involvement in World War II, shaping not only the course of the war but also the post-war geopolitical landscape, where the U.S. emerged as a primary superpower.Nishad Singh, former FTX engineering director, will be sentenced Wednesday for his role in the collapse of FTX, where his former boss, Sam Bankman-Fried, misappropriated $8 billion in customer funds. Singh previously pled guilty to six felony counts, cooperating with prosecutors as a witness in Bankman-Fried's fraud trial, where Bankman-Fried received a 25-year sentence. Singh admitted to involvement in FTX's fraud and participation as a “straw donor” in political donations made by Bankman-Fried. Prosecutors have recommended leniency for Singh, who they say joined the conspiracy late and provided significant assistance, while his lawyers seek no prison time. U.S. District Judge Lewis Kaplan, who sentenced another FTX executive, Caroline Ellison, to two years for her role, will make the final decision. Singh testified he confronted Bankman-Fried about FTX's financial shortfall in September 2022, though Bankman-Fried assured him they could cover the losses.Bankman-Fried's ex-deputy Singh to be sentenced over crypto fraud | ReutersThe University of California College of the Law, San Francisco, has reported a 64% surge in applicants this year, attributed partly to Vice President Kamala Harris, an alumna currently running for president. The school, formerly known as UC Hastings College of the Law, has received 633 applications, a significant increase from last year's 385, and almost double the 33% rise in the national law school applicant pool. Dean David Faigman noted that many applicants are inspired by Harris's legal career, which she highlights in her campaign. As a public institution, the law school cannot endorse political candidates, but it prominently features Harris on its website with content about her time there. This trend mirrors a 33% increase in applications the school experienced in 2020 after Harris joined Joe Biden's presidential ticket. Legal experts suggest that both Harris's candidacy and the early application process this year have contributed to the heightened interest in law school.Kamala Harris' law school reports an applicant surge as election nears | ReutersThe FDA faces scrutiny over its process for declaring drug shortages after reversing its decision on the availability of Eli Lilly's popular weight-loss drug, tirzepatide. Due to high demand for such weight-loss treatments, compounding pharmacies have produced lower-cost versions of the drug, marketed by Lilly under Mounjaro and Zepbound, while it was in short supply. The FDA's decision to declare the tirzepatide shortage resolved, after confirming increased supply with Lilly, prompted a lawsuit from the Outsourcing Facilities Association and a compounding pharmacy, FarmaKeio, arguing the FDA's decision lacked transparency and public input. The plaintiffs claim the FDA's methods are unclear, especially since the law allows compounded versions of a drug only when a shortage is officially recognized. Attorneys argue that without clear guidelines on when shortages end, compounded alternatives may become less accessible, affecting patients who rely on affordable options. This case also comes amid broader judicial scrutiny of federal agency authority, as recent court rulings challenge long-standing deference to agency discretion. To avoid further legal conflicts, the FDA requested to reassess its shortage determination process, allowing for public input and additional data on tirzepatide availability.Demand for Obesity Drug Copycats Pressures FDA's Shortage ReviewNew York City has officially decriminalized jaywalking, allowing pedestrians to cross streets outside of crosswalks and against traffic signals without risk of a fine, which previously could reach up to $300. Historically, jaywalking laws were used disproportionately against Black and Latino residents, a key factor motivating the City Council's recent decision. Proponents argue that the new law will reduce unnecessary policing of a practice most New Yorkers see as routine, with some considering jaywalking integral to the city's culture. However, the change comes amid rising pedestrian fatalities; nearly 200 jaywalking-related deaths have occurred over five years. Critics worry the law will make streets less safe, while city officials stress that pedestrians should remain cautious and use marked crossings when possible. The law will go into effect in 120 days, accompanied by a public safety campaign.Jaywalking Is a New York Tradition. Now It's Legal, Too. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.minimumcomp.com/subscribe

Giant tortoise comeback. Jaywalking in New York. Donut Day. Hallmark lawsuit. Winner! College Station Mayor John Nichols. Martha. This date in history. Rao's will have a float at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Excuses.

Life-sized puppets. Demoting a bridesmaid. Cheese bookmarks. Banned trick or treating. Candy Corn Day. Soup stats. These people can vote too. Crocs ban. Giant tortoise comeback. Jaywalking in New York. Donut Day. Hallmark lawsuit. Winner! Martha. This date in history. Rao's will have a float at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Excuses.

Jaywalking is now legal in NYC.

Make jaywalking legal. Democrats ☑️

AP correspondent Julie Walker reports on jaywalking becoming legal in New York City.

This is the All Local afternoon update for September 26, 2024.