Podcasts about jerries

One from the archives! This week we'll be donning our goggles, jumping in our kite, and going to heaven and back while fighting those damned Jerries - but because this is the 1980s, we will also be jumping back and forth in time and being American. Yes - it's BIGGLES: ADVENTURES IN TIME.Joining me to wanna be a hero is comedian and Welsh man, Dan Thomas. Become a member at https://plus.acast.com/s/smershpod. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

We're joined by the National Treasure himself for the Annual Jimmies... or should I say Jerries? Hosted by Perry Burkum (@PBurkum), Casey Gibson (@case_jets), Alex Culafi (@culafia) Hellos: (0:00:10) Goodbyes: (1:10:20) Thank you for listening! We can tell that you are a good-looking person. Peep the discord: https://discord.gg/XPByvgvByQ Please write in to the show at TNPmailbag@gmail.com Tweet us @TalkNintendoPod and Instagram us at talknintendopodcast Please consider supporting us on Patreon! For just $1 you can get access to tons of exclusive content! Check us out at www.patreon.com/nwr

To help close out our Christopher Nolan Mini-Series; Tim and new fighter Jamel join the panel as we try to save as many pale white boys as possible from the Jerries via 3 overlapping timelines.

When people hear the phrase ‘emotional eating', there's a tendency to associate it with crying over a tub of Ben & Jerries, or stress-munching your way through a pack of cookies. While it's common for people to turn to food for comfort as a way to cope with big, difficult feelings, there are many other situations where we might find ourselves eating emotionally. Have you ever attended a dinner where you end up having dessert just because everyone else is? Have you celebrated someone's birthday and eaten a slice of cake despite being full? Have you snacked on something when you've been bored at work? These are some prime examples of how normalized emotional eating is in our society, but the impact it has on our mental and physical health can be detrimental.So how can we begin to tackle the problem of eating when we're not physically hungry? In this episode, I'm walking you through the four phases of healing emotional eating and giving you five practical steps, from nutrition to mindset, that will help to get your emotional eating more under control.ReferencesFind out more about binge eating coach Jane Pilger's principles here.Listen to Kathryn Hansen's ‘Brain over Binge' podcast here.Learn more about Jessie Inchauspé's book ‘Glucose Revolution: The Life-Changing Power of Balancing Your Blood Sugar'.Pull Quotes “In the beginning, expecting that you're only going to eat when you're hungry and that everything's going to go perfectly and you're going to have no emotional eating, you're really setting yourself up for failure. The goal isn't zero.” “If you want to bring down emotional eating, the biggest impact is going to be balancing your meals.”“Often by the time you're in that emotional eating zone, you're not thinking about how to support yourself. The work needs to be done before this time.”“What it usually comes down to is that you're really tired, really exhausted, and you don't know any other ways to take care of yourself besides making a snack at night. It gives you a little bit of that dopamine hit.”Audio Stamps03:20 - Dr. Rentea talks us through the four phases to healing emotional eating.08:20 - We learn why, when it comes to decreasing emotional hunger, the goal is not zero.10:16 - We find out how balancing meals can help us to control emotional eating.15:20 - Dr Rentea emphasizes the importance of having a plan and having options.19:34 - We discover why spending time not overeating, at a time when you used to, is key.22:54 - We learn why you should still expect and allow thoughts of emotional eating in your mind.23:54 - Dr. Rentea shares one of the easiest ways to distinguish between physical and emotional hunger.24:44 - We hear a recap of the 5 key steps to healing overeating.All of the information on this podcast is for general informational purposes only. Please talk to your physician and medical team about what is right for you. No medical advice is being on this podcast. If you live in Indiana or Illinois and want to work with doctor Matthea Rentea, you can find out more on www.RenteaClinic.com

The New Age, Part X [Dicey Waters] Jerry's whereabouts have been determined, but his circumstances raises more questions — and tensions — than anything.   Find more at DicePopuli.com! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - CREDITS - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - DM — Colin Ketchen,  colinketchen.com Locke — Patrick Brehm, @PattyIceOfficial @Pureriffery Maeve — Matt Canavan, @CatManavan Kalt — Ryan Mossbarger, @ryan_mossb Taeemul "Chowder" Chowdhury, @taeemulchowdhur - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Created by Colin Ketchen, Josh Palumbo and Ryan Mossbarger Editing by Matt Canavan and Colin Ketchen Original Music and Sound Design by Colin Ketchen

Wednesday, August 24: Fly into DenverDinner at Mountain SunThursday, Aug 25: Drive up to the MountainsHike Mount Evans on the Way (Elevation: 14, 272 Ft) Buy tickets ahead of time for a parking slot. Different trails to wander around on. Idaho Springs: Indian Hot Springs: Cave, pool, jacuzzi. Separate men's and women's clothing is optional. Degrees: 110 and 120. Normally 110-115.Eat at Kemosabe Silverheals (mochi, sushi, fried rice) Friday, Aug 26: Dillon has a small but nice Farmer's Market on Friday morning.Ptarmigan Mountain: Ptarmigan Peak is the highest summit of the South Williams Fork Mountains ranges in the Rocky Mountains of North America. The peak is north of Dillon, CO in the White River National Forest. 6 hours4.6 milesElevation gain 3,098 FtRating: More DifficultOpen Late June to Mid SeptSummit Hiker: Mary Ellen GillilandReview of it.16 Miles - lostFree music in Dillon; Docksiders Pure Kitchen in Frisco: Tai Food.Saturday, Aug 27 Altitude Sickness: Occurs above 8,000 Ft, begins in 24 hours of being in new altitudes more than 2,500m above sea level.Symptoms: headache, feeling and being sick, throwing up, paleness, dizziness, tiredness, loss of appetite, shortness of breath, Delusion or deliriousness. The symptoms are usually worse at night. Cures: Stop and rest where you are, do not get any higher for at least 24 to 48 hours, if you have a headache, take ibuprofen or paracetamol, if you feel sick, take an anti-sickness medicine, such as promethazine, make sure you're drinking enough water, rent oxygen, Go bellow 8,000 Ft ASAP.  Do not smoke, drink alcohol or exercise.Prescription medicines for Altitude sickness:Acetazolamide to prevent and treat high-altitude sickness. Acetazolamide can be used to reduce the severity of your symptoms, but it will not completely get rid of them.Sunday, August 28 CU Museum of Natural HistoryVegan Festival DumplingsWalked Pearl StreetBen and Jerries, Peppercorn, Where the Buffalo Roam.Monday, August 29Denver Art Museum ExhibitsGeorgia O'Keeffe photographer, Age of Armor, Carla Fernandez Casa de Moda etc.Immersive Experience at Lighthouse Art Space on King Tut, Pharoes of Egpyt. (C+) NOT WORK IT FOR $80). They also had Van Gough in the evening. Dinner at Mazevo (Greek Food) Lamb Kabobs.  Technically in Edgewater, but more upscale area. It's a great date night spot with great Mediterranean food.Other places to eat around Denver (Cute fun date night or family spots)Avanti or Happy Camper - in the highlands is the hip/young spot. You can pretty much get whatever you want there.Tupelo Honey - heart of downtown. They have good southern food.Adelitas - that Mexican restaurant we took you to before.Other Hikes to Do in BoulderDowdy Draw, Marshall Mesa, Heil Ranch, Hall Ranch-Boulder.Eldorado Springs-State Park-in south Boulder.Button Rock-near Lyons. 

Today, I'm joined by historian, writer and podcaster, Katja Hoyer. Katja's podcast, Tommies and Jerries, has a unique style that not only manages to inform us about the similarities and differences between British and German, but also has a combination of fun and form. Katia has also recently written an amazing book, Blood and Iron: The Rise and Fall of the German Empire 1871-1918 which tells the story of a country that is just as influential now as it was when it was first created. Her style is to keep you reading, even if you know the end; as if it was some high stakes drama with the characters jostling for power and influence along the way. Now having read her book a few times, I felt it was time for us to have a chat, so I hope you are sitting comfortably and happy to stay with us. By accessing this podcast, I acknowledge that the entire contents and design of this podcast are the property of Ken Sweeney, or used by Ken Sweeney with permission, and are protected under Irish and international copyright and trademark laws. Except as otherwise provided herein, users of this podcast may save and use information contained in the podcast only for personal or other non-commercial, educational purposes. No other use, including, without limitation, reproduction, retransmission or editing, of this podcast may be made without the prior written permission of Ken Sweeney.

A scientist, innovator, and entrepreneur; Christopher Altomare is the CEO and Co-founder of Nova Analytics, a cannabis testing facility that differentiates itself from the rest with its background in pharmaceuticals and genuine lab professionals behind the helm. Chris and I sat down this week to discuss the fruits of the hobby plant I grew over the summer (Sneak peek: 17.2 THCA isn't too shabby). Discussed this week: Ben & Jerries, Chipwiches, the importance of sprinkles, salsa vs sausage, why you should trim, CBD conversion, legal headaches, and I cannot stress this enough: infused pillowcases... and more! --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/potluckypodcast/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/potluckypodcast/support

Hilke Krause ist Country Business Lead bei der Marke Ben & Jerry's und fühlt diese spannenden Rolle in einem Job Share aus. In der restlichen Zeit abreitet sie als Agile Coachin und begleitet Transformationsprozesse. Sie hilft außerdem anderen Menschen dabei, ihren Purpose zu finden. Wir sprechen im Podcast über - Hilkes Rolle bei Ben & Jerries und wie sie dort hingekommen ist, - wann sie das letzte mal richtig Stress hatte, - warum Stress mit Wut zusammenhängt, - wie sie zum Yoga gekommen ist, - was sie tut, um abzuschalten, - warum Yoga auch für ihre Jobrolle einen großen Nutzen hat, - warum sie Veränderungen im Leben als wichtig empfindet, - warum Werte wie Leidenschaft & Emotionen im Job für Sie wichtig sind, - was es mit „Be Ganesha“ auf sich hat, - wie sie ihren Purpose gefunden hat und - warum ein Purpose uns zu einem glücklicheren Leben verhilft. Hilke Buchtipp: Starkes weiches Herz von Daria Daria UNSER GAST: https://www.linkedin.com/in/hilke-krause-820a12145/ ÜBER UNS: Das Magazin: www.personalitymag.com Folge uns auf Instagram unter: https://www.instagram.com/personalitymag/ Melde dich für unser monatlichen Newsletter an: http://eepurl.com/hcgREz Hinterlasse uns einen Kommentar und eine Bewertung auf iTunes und abonniere uns bei Spotify Schreib uns für Fragen oder Wünsche jederzeit an redaktion@personalitymag.com

In the (sort of) conclusion of our longest series yet, Mama Bird provides a deluge of nutritious atrocities and hypocrisies of the father and son duo Jerry Falwell Sr. and his aptly named electric boogaloo, Jerry Falwell Jr, but along the way we discover a new light in all of our hearts and livers in Bro Christ, Collin AND Justin yell at Tyler for a change, and for some reason we all forget that Jerry Falwell Jr. has a brother. What's going on with him? We forget to ask in this week's episode of Worst In The Industry! Instagram: @worstintheindustry Justin: @jtspcomedy Tyler: @tylerwitipod Twitter: @WITIpod Justin: @ThatWednesday Tyler: @TylerWITIpod Send us your feedback online: https://pinecast.com/feedback/worst-in-the-industry/07802634-7502-4d7b-8c32-1d848f9d94cf

Break out the beach towels and reserve the best spot as we attempt to untangle the Anglos from the Saxons, the Boche from the Britishers and the Tommies from the Jerries.Historian Katja Hoyer is a German living in England. Journalist Oliver Moody is a Brit living in Berlin.Between them they plan to discuss the past and present of Anglo-German relations. Why have German chancellors and British Prime Ministers so rarely got along? Why are the Germans obsessed with British comedy? And what have the Romans ever done for Britannia and Germania? No stereotype too embarrassing, no war left unmentioned, as the German in England and the Engländer in Deutschland do their bit for post-Brexit freundship.New episodes every Wednesday Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Hey! This is the third installment of The People of Tinder! This week's guest: Jo, a Soil Scientist at Katahdin Analytical Services! Discussed this week: College during covid, traveling abroad, raisins, UTZ, Ben and Jerries, Aus Jus, therapy dough, texas instruments, the Tide Pod challenge round 2, 1# Grandpa, doughnuts, and perhaps most importantly; Bob Ross. Want to join us on air? Contact us here: potluckypodcast@gmail.com --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/potluckypodcast/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/potluckypodcast/support

The death of a loved one is a life-changing event and Meghan has had a lifetime of these events. She lost someone close to her as a toddler, a teenager, and a young adult. In this episode she talks with Nina about how she coped with loss and her continuous mental health journey with death. An advocate for therapy, she says picking a therapist is like dating, taking a med can be life changing, and then she and Nina get on a 'food-therapy' tangent about buttery chardonnay, Ben and Jerries ice-cream and popcorn. Her kindness and wit come through as she shares helpful insights on trauma, saying “when you are physically injured you go to physical therapy – so my brain is in physical therapy”. Meghan Judge - is not ‘judgy' at all, in fact, she is well aware that we are all dealing with our own mental struggles. She talks about where she is on her own journey. Tune in to hear here what she wishes she had known when she was younger and why she loves butterflies. Meghan Judge: After college Meghan Judge went to Hollywood to be a star, then married her best friend and found success in Corporate America, before leaving to host her own podcast and take care of her two girls. She is the host of the podcast "Judging Meghan' where she shares her journey through dark and tumultuous times through humor and levity and engages in conversation with others sharing their own stories of despair and triumph. find Meghan here: Instagram - @judgingmeghan https://www.instagram.com/judgingmeghan/ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/meghan.judge.96 Opinions expressed in this podcast are those of Nina Sossamon Pogue and her guests, they are not a substitute for professional advice. If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts – call 1-800-273-talk

4,7 Luxo Jr, Jerries y episodios depresivos para SOUL. Película del año 2020, dirigida por Pete Docter, del famoso estudio animado de Pixar, estrenada en la nueva plataforma de Disney+ En este carretazo 23 si bien no echamos carreta sobre contenido histórico, si hablamos, o bueno, reflexionamos sobre la que consideramos "trilogía de la vida y la depresión" compuesta por: Intensamente - Soul y Up. Pero, antes de hablar de esta "trilogía" echamos carreta también sobre la huella que pixar ha dejado en nuestras vidas, el nivel de amor y cariño a ciertas producciones como Toy Story, Wall-E, Buscando a Nemo, Coco o Los Increíbles. Luego si hablamos @&%$# sobre Soul, qué obtuvimos en el salón del todo?¿si hoy nos llega la muerte, estaremos tranquilos con nuestra vida? ¿por qué cuando saltamos en el "gran antes" teníamos que caer en Colombia? El jingle es obra de Esteban Pardo https://twitter.com/uncatastrofico?s=20 Recuerden que nos encuentran en redes sociales y plataformas de podcast, como Spotify o iTunes, en el siguiente link https://myurls.co/puracarreta pero también en otras plataformas como Deezer, Google Podcast, Ivoox y en nuestro canal de YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4DMNBevcNt5NP538xYTcuA

  In this picture, you'll notice a yellow manuscript on the table. I asked Jim Koerner about it. He said after the war he worked as a night foreman for a trucking company. He had time on his hands, and began writing down his experiences while they were fresh in his mind. He then put it in a drawer and didn't take it out for more than forty years. Its title was "Nine Lives." Read this excerpt and you'll understand why. (From the book: 9 Lives: An Oral History" (c) 1997, Aaron Elson) Highway to hell Dec. 16, ’44. Hot mission coming up. All big brass running around (rumored big push coming off). Grabbed all NCOs, told to be on two-hour alert to move out. News came down to load. Must be big; convoys started off like first race at Belmont. Traveled all day and into night; even had convoy headlights on. Pulled into small town in middle of night and told we were to be here for night. Picked out red schoolhouse for most of platoon, private house for Lt. Hanel, myself and two corporals. Boy invited us home, told us to expect air raid, but no bombs, only pictures. Sure enough, he was right. He told us we were here in Luxembourg to stop Von Runstedt’s drive. All taverns open, even ice cream, most all spoke English. Seemed like transferred U.S. town. Bright and early next a.m., off for unknown. Saw MPs chasing jeep loads of soldiers, said they were Jerries dressed as our boys. What a shock this was. Went all day and into night at full pace. Around 11 p.m. ran through town, saw sign to Bastogne, went right through and out onto highway to Ste. Margaret – now could see and hear heavy shelling. Convoy came to halt and orders went out to get security out in all directions. I was in second halftrack from rear vehicles, radio truck. Slept on hood as motor was always running, nice and warm. Sure felt more and more like snow. Truck came roaring out of rear. Could hear rear guards halt and check same. Was gas truck from Bastogne, driven by colored GI. Was all out of breath and shook up, claimed Jerries rode into Bastogne in civilian clothes and he was last to get out. Loaded last truck with gas. Also our halftrack and one in front of us was busy loading Sherman tanks when the sky lit up like day. Got report Jerries lay on side of road and threw grenades into gas. As soon as truck lit up road we were clobbered by everything that fired. Sgt. Marks, myself and one corporal and one private set up a heavy water cooled .30-caliber machine gun. I had a light air-cooled .30 MG set on a little rise. Caught a patrol going back to their lines across open field. We cross-fired till my .30 light was showing a very nice hook as each tracer hit the dawn sky. We were now getting a constant stream of 106th Infantry and 9th Armored Division wounded and combat shocked troops. Must have been 500 laying from one side to the other of the road as fire increased or decreased from both sides. We had a constant battle going between ourselves and German infantry. We had gotten an M-90 .50-caliber equipped six-wheeled armored car and we put the turret over a knoll and with a 105 self-propelled gun that had a track gone. We managed to yell fire commands as the need arose. Which was getting closer and closer. Now we looked to dig into the hill for night security, but our shovels just bounced back. The town behind me had five houses that were in our hands and the Jerries had the rest. We started to pick up equipment. We now had an extra jeep that we got from a field. And we had a mean run to get to our ammunition trailer on the road, getting potted at as we ran. Next step was to head back to this small town and our five houses. Most had a whole load of shocked GIs. By nightfall we were lined up bumper to bumper with eight or nine tanks, two halftracks, one M-90 and three jeeps. We had set charges in the tanks and other vehicles that were disabled and set them off. I was next to the last in line to the west of the houses when Jerry started to move in. The first notice I had was a head peering over a hedge 15 or 20 feet from where I stood at the .50-caliber on the M-90. I fired five rounds and I had to hand operate after this or I’d get a jam. I went up to the captain in the lead house and asked him our intentions. He said if we had to move out on foot to head north and we’d run into paratroopers. I started back and noticed two Sherman tanks with no security and buttoned up. I jumped on the first and banged with my grease gun on the turret. A head popped out and said, “We have room for two more in here, how about it, Sergeant?” I didn’t get a chance to tell him I didn’t like tanks, I’m claustrophobic, when two dogfaces jumped out of nowhere and hopped in. Down went the hatch. I jumped up on the second one and did the same banging. About that time I found myself on the ground and saw the Shermans belch flame. I hopped up to the bogey wheel of the first tank again. There was an explosion and I was laying over a barbed wire fence with a burning sensation in my left heel and my butt (Five and four lives). The screams of the boys in the tank still live with me. A second loud explosion and they stopped. By this time a mass migration of men were heading across an open field for the woods. We gathered short of the woods and found there were close to 150 men and four officers in our group. I couldn’t see anyone I knew from my outfit but I knew the action was so fast and I wasn’t sure how long I had lain on the barbed wire fence before my reflexes made my legs move. The four officers told us to put security out and wait as they would try to make contact with our boys. We waited for six hours; still no return of the officers. We sent four men out to see if we could contact any outfit, myself and three other sergeants. I started across a barbed wire fence when I heard a loud yell in German. I hit the ground and lay still; so did the others. We suddenly heard a flare and in its glare two machine guns opened up and sprayed all around us for close to five minutes. As soon as they stopped, we did a slow backward retreat till our legs could do the most good. Back to the challenge of the boys in the woods. Still no officers. We decided to head north in three split patrols. I had used up my pills but still didn’t have time to see how bad I was hit. (Two days later I got to see about ten or twelve small pieces and one fairly big piece in my left heel, which I dug out with my knife. The others less one are still traveling in me as one showed up in my chest five years ago and came out. It was the size of a large BB.) I buddied up with a Corporal Smith from an antitank outfit. He’d seen a lot of action in Africa and had returned on rotation to the States and here he’d come back to get stuck in this deal. We fought everyone and anyone in this heavy pine forest for the balance of the night, and also part of the next day. Ran into a lot of Jerries and all were paratroops. I guess these were the boys we were told we’d meet if we headed north. Smith and I decided to try to go behind the Jerries and back out in a less busy place. I had a compass and we headed northeast. Got to cut telephone lines in two or three places. Missed patrol of 10 men by 10 feet and some high bushes. Had a grease gun and one clip of ammo. Smith had a carbine and 10 rounds. Both were loaded with dirt from crawling and laying on the ground. Screaming meemies were all around us both back and front. Smith said he’d had it and was going to give up. I tried to talk him out of it, but he headed to an open field and the artillery outfit set up there. I stayed put in woods. He waved a handkerchief to two soldiers and they ran to grab him. He turned quite nonchalantly to where I was watching and waved me in. I was covered before I had time to do anything. I said, “Smith, I think we’re going to get the business.” To my surprise we were treated with respect. We were taken to a farmhouse for questioning and here I saw a cripple I believe to have been Goebbels. He was at the center of a group of officers and had a few questions by an interpreter as to our outfits and condition of same. The boys showed him how rough they were as we gave only name, rank and serial number. From here we started a slow march with about 500 more GIs. We passed 9th Armored tanks that had been blown with shape charges lined up like so many ten pins. They must have had 25 to 50 vehicles and also alongside the road I saw our Christmas packages opened and looted. All the troops we passed looked older than the boys we tackled elsewhere. But all had ideas this was to be our end in the ETO [European Theater of Operation], at least all the Jerries that spoke English tried to convince us. Marched all day till just short of dark. Ended up in burnt-out factory where we had our first food – oatmeal eaten out of our steel helmets. Didn’t like the idea but it sure tasted good. Spent part of night unloading about six-inch shells. Tried to mention Geneva treaty but was told to shut up while I still had a choice. Got so disgusted near morning that we were throwing shells onto piles. Jerry guard gave us a safe distance but still let us know he didn’t like our crazy working methods. Could see things begin to change as we marched into Germany. Guards were very young and rough on us. Order 9 lives at amazon.com Order "Right in the Keister," interviews with ex-POWs at eBay

As dense a bonus episode as one could ask for, we interview Matt about how adventure “A Second Chance” and bookend our chat with announcements galore! Colin, Matt and Ryan have a lot to share, even if they’re dumb for taking it all on at once.SPOILERS BELOW! In this episodes we announced:Patreon launchBonus campaign “Entrenched” by Ryan, set in Eberron, run using Quest, produced by PatDedicated feeds and channels for bonus contentDiscord sever updatesSeasonal community goals and rewardsSeasonal community giveawaysWebsite overhaulDicey Waters extended by another full adventureChowder joins the cast of Dicey Waters with a new character and adventure on the wayNew recap episodeChanges coming on January 6th!Phew! Is that enough for you? No? Well, enjoy a 50-minute interview with Matt answering your questions!CREDITS- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Matt CanavanColin Ketchen - @SoniColinKRyan Mossbarger - @rnmossbarger, @ryan_mossb- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Created by Colin Ketchen, Josh Palumbo and Ryan MossbargerEditing and Original Music by Colin Ketchen- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -CREDITS- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Matt CanavanColin Ketchen - @SoniColinKRyan Mossbarger - @rnmossbarger, @ryan_mossb- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Created by Colin Ketchen, Josh Palumbo and Ryan MossbargerEditing and Original Music by Colin Ketchen 

Hey you! We have a lot of Popo and Culture for you this weekend! Bärlo and Schnecks proudly present an awesome interview with our favorite Instagrammer Rares, who is the creative mind behind me_and_mango. What started as a jittery zoom call on a Saturday morning became an inspiring conversation about what it's like to be an influencer and content creator. We asked Rares for advice on how to grow a social media channel in 2020 and how one can make a living as a creative. Also, we asked him how he learned all the necessary skills (e.g. video editing, photographing, …), and if he can still watch Netflix and eat Ben&Jerries for a whole weekend? And guys, we finally found out who Mango is. Spoiler alert: It's not a fruit ;-) Btw, we also made a YouTube video of our conversation. Check it out … Bussis, Bärlo & Schnecks

This is our Halloween show.  Duh?

Iain Dale and Jacqui Smith discuss the Channel migrants, Kamala Harris, bleak economic figures, Dawn Butler and Ben & Jerries. They also talk about Jacqui’s imminent summer holiday and who will be replacing her on the next three episodes. Stand by for some quality corpsing too. Smut quota: Medium

On this installment of tv tuesday, the gang reviews the latest episodes of Rick and Morty and Harley Quinn. adn moses reviews the first issue in the Rick and Morty comic book series

It's a "Jerry" lesson for a bunch of Jerries, the KETO diet, and serious ski-gear discussion!  See omnystudio.com/policies/listener for privacy information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This week, we ramble about Jerries, Antarctica, and why Hunter looks like the last thing a buffalo wild wing ever sees.

This week we'll be donning our goggles, jumping in our kite, and going to heaven and back while fighting those damned Jerries - but because this is the 1980s, we will also be jumping back and forth in time and being American. Yes - it's BIGGLES: ADVENTURES IN TIME.Joining me to wanna be a hero, is comedian and welsh man, Dan Thomas, who can be found on twitter as @Danthomascomedy See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

Ratcatcher by Amy Griswold       1918, over Portsmouth The souls in the trap writhed and keened their displeasure as Xavier picked up the shattergun. “Don’t fuss,” he scolded them as he turned on the weapon and adjusted his goggles, shifting the earpieces so that the souls’ racket penetrated less piercingly through the bones behind his ears. “It’s nothing to do with you.” The two airships were docked already, a woman airman unfastening safety ropes from the gangplank propped between them to allow Xavier to cross. The trap rocked with a vibration that owed nothing to the swaying airships, and Xavier lifted it and tucked it firmly under his arm. He felt the soul imprisoned in his own chest stir, a straining reaction that made him stop for a moment to catch his breath.     Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 69 for April 4th, 2019. This is your host, Keffy, and I'm super excited to share this story with you. Our story today is "Ratcatcher" by Amy Griswold.  Before we get to the story, GlitterShip has recently had some exciting news. Our second anthology, GlitterShip Year Two was listed as a Tiptree Award Honor Book for 2018. We're very happy that the Tiptree jury enjoyed the book, and owe a great debt to all the authors who have allowed us to publish their work. You can find out more about the Tiptree Award and check out the winner Gabriela Damian Miravete's story, "They Will Dream in the Garden" at tiptree.org. You can also pick up copies of the GlitterShip Year One and Year Two anthologies on gumroad at gumroad.com/keffy for $5 each. Just use the coupon code "tiptree," that's t-i-p-t-r-e-e. Amy Griswold is the author of the interactive novels The Eagle’s Heir and Stronghold (with Jo Graham), published by Choice of Games, as well as the gay fantasy/mystery novels Death by Silver and A Death at the Dionysus Club (with Melissa Scott). Her short fiction has been published in markets including F&SF and Fantastic Stories of the Imagination. Robin G has been an entertainment manager, entertainer/vocalist, theatrical producer and writer of several pantomimes including a UV version of Pinocchio that toured 20 theaters in the UK. He was first alerted to the supernatural in a strange dream sequence while in the Royal Air Force that placed him at a future event. The knowledge that a part of our brain exists in another reality has shown him many unusual incidents of the sixth sense. He writes both fiction and non-fiction which includes Jim Long — space agent, a series of stand-alone stories in 7 books, including one as a radio episodic creation, and the non-fiction book Magical theory of life—discusses our life, history, and its aftermath in non-religious spiritual terms.     Ratcatcher by Amy Griswold       1918, over Portsmouth The souls in the trap writhed and keened their displeasure as Xavier picked up the shattergun. “Don’t fuss,” he scolded them as he turned on the weapon and adjusted his goggles, shifting the earpieces so that the souls’ racket penetrated less piercingly through the bones behind his ears. “It’s nothing to do with you.” The two airships were docked already, a woman airman unfastening safety ropes from the gangplank propped between them to allow Xavier to cross. The trap rocked with a vibration that owed nothing to the swaying airships, and Xavier lifted it and tucked it firmly under his arm. He felt the soul imprisoned in his own chest stir, a straining reaction that made him stop for a moment to catch his breath. “If you’re ready, sir,” the airman said, and Xavier forced himself into motion. He nodded crisply and strode out onto the gangplank with the ease of long years spent aboard ships, his gloved hand just brushing the rail. He scrambled down from the other end and got out of the way of airmen rushing to disengage the gangplank and close the hatch before the two ships could batter at each other too dangerously in the rising wind. The Coriolanus’s captain strode toward him, and Xavier winced as he recognized a familiar face. He set the trap down, both to get it farther away from the casing that housed the soul in his chest, and to give himself a moment to banish all envy from his expression. He straightened with a smile. “Hedrick. I see you landed on your feet after that muddle over Calais.” “I’ve got a knee that tells me the weather now,” Hedrick said, scrubbing at his not-entirely-regulation stubble of ginger beard. “They told me you’d been grounded.” “I’m still attached to the extraction service,” Xavier said. “As a civilian now.” Hedrick’s eyes flickered to the odd lines of Xavier’s coat front, and then back up to his face without a change of expression. He’d always been good at keeping a straight face at cards. “We could use the help. We had a knock-down drag-out with the Huns a few weeks back—just shy of six weeks, I make it. Heavy casualties on both sides, and some of them damned reluctant to move on.” “Only six weeks? You hardly need me. Chances are they’ll still depart on their own.” “You haven’t seen the latest orders that came down, then. We’re supposed to call in the ratcatchers at the first sight of ghosts. Not acceptable on a well-run ship, don’t you know.” “You’re also meant to shave,” Xavier said. “It’s not like you to comply with every absurd directive that comes down the pike.” He couldn’t help reveling in the freedom to talk that way, one of the few rewards of his enforced change in career. “These are Colonel Morrow’s orders.” “Mmm.” That put a different face on it, or might. Morrow supervised the ratcatchers, civilian and military, and his technical brilliance had saved Xavier’s life when he lost his soul. That said, it was entirely in character for Morrow to go on a tear about efficiency without regard for how much work it made for anyone else. “Besides, there’s more to it,” Hedrick said as the Coriolanus drifted free of the Exeter. “We’ve been having damned bad luck of late. Pins slipping out of a gangplank just as one of the lads stepped on it—he just missed ending up a smear on the landscape. More engine malfunctions than you can name, and some of them dangerous. If the Coriolanus weren’t in such good repair to start with, she’d have burned twice over in the last month.” “You suspect sabotage.” “Some of the Jerries had their boots on our deck when they bit it. We tossed the bodies over the side, but still I’m not entirely easy in my mind.” “Next time, don’t,” Xavier said. “The soul’s more likely to stay in the corpse if it’s well treated. Ill handling breaks the ties faster.” He directed his gaze out the porthole window of the gondola rather than at Hedrick’s face. “You weren’t using shatterguns?” “We haven’t got them mounted. No budget for them in our grade, I hear. And just as well if you ask me. They give me the cold chills.” Hedrick glanced at the shattergun under Xavier’s arm. “A necessity in my profession,” he said. “Better you than me.” It was a backhanded enough kind of sympathy that Xavier didn’t cringe away from it. “Any particular area of the ship most affected?” “The crew quarters, I think—I’ve had men stirring up their whole deck with screaming nightmares, and not the usual nervous cases.” “At least it’s a place to start.” He followed Hedrick through the narrow corridors of the airship’s gondola to the cramped berthing area that housed the enlisted men. Only the night watch was there and sleeping, young men squeezed into claustrophobically low bunks, some with their knees tucked up to keep their feet from dangling off the end. A panel of canvas made a half-hearted divider screening the row of women’s bunks from the men’s view. Xavier set down his gear and stretched out on the nearest unoccupied bunk. “Leave me alone, now, and let me work.” “Funny kind of work,” Hedrick said, raising an eyebrow at his recumbent form. “‘They also serve who only stand and wait,’” Xavier said, and tried not to sound bitter. “Now get out.” He closed his eyes at the sound of Hedrick’s retreating footsteps and schooled his breathing into the steady rhythm that would send him swiftly into a doze. The soul in his chest shifted once, making him break his rhythmic breathing with a gasping cough, but he spread an entreating hand across its cage and it quieted. He knew he was dreaming when he saw Thomas walk into the room and sit down on the foot of the bed. For a moment the more rational part of his mind protested that it was impossible to sit down on the foot of an airship bunk, but his dreaming mind obligingly replaced the scene with a four-poster bed lit by streaming sunshine. Thomas’s hair was limned with gold, his eyes bright and laughing. “Haven’t you got work to do?” He was dressed in the uniform he died in, but as Xavier took his hand, it faded like smoke to reveal freckled skin. “I do,” Xavier said. “I’m most remiss.” He raised his chin unrepentantly, and Thomas grappled for him like a wrestler. He was aware of reality as soon as they touched, the sensation of Thomas’s soul writhing through Xavier’s body painfully erotic but nothing remotely like physical sex. He heard himself gasp, unsure whether he’d actually made a sound the sleeping airmen could hear, and realized how genuinely unwise this was. He pushed Thomas away, and the other man’s soul retreated, dissolving into curling smoke, and then retreated too far, tugging away in unstoppable reflex. It felt like someone was pulling a rib out of his chest. “Thomas—” The smoke resolved itself for a moment into the golden-haired man, his face contorted. “I’m trying to stop,” he said. His shape exploded into smoke again, and twisted almost free of Xavier’s chest, leaving Xavier unable to draw a breath for long enough that his vision darkened. Then Thomas was back, sprawled against Xavier’s side as if in the exhausted aftermath of love. “Christ, that hurt,” Thomas said. “Like trying to hold onto a hot iron.” “You know it will only get worse.” “And so what’s the point in talking about it?” The image of Thomas appeared to stand, now pressed and correct in his airman’s uniform, looking around the dim barracks-room. His soul lay quiet in Xavier’s chest, a weight that eased its lingering ache. “We still have a job to do.” “So we do.” “There have been ghosts here,” Thomas said. “Two, I think. I’d look in the engine room if I were you.” He turned, frowning. “And don’t lay aside your gun. At least one of them is in a dangerous mood.”   In the engine room, the thumping of the steam engines pulsed through Xavier’s bones, and the heat coming off every surface beat against his skin. Through his goggles he could see wisps of what looked like steam but were really the lingering traces of the dead, men and women who had died in the recent battle. Not ghosts but something more like bloodstains. He turned a circle, looking for a more solid form, and settled the goggles’ earpieces more firmly against the bones behind his ears. A hundred sounds were familiar, the cacophony of airship travel he’d long ago learned to drown out. Under them was the faintest of animal noises, a tuneless moaning. He took a step toward it, and then another. A rattling on the other side of the engine room distracted him, and he turned. A connecting rod was flailing free, its pin out and the mechanism it served shuddering with the interrupted rhythm. He crossed the deck swiftly, keeping his head lifted as if watching the loose rod, but his eyes fixed on the deck. He caught the movement and stopped short as a hatch swung open in front of him, steam rising from the gaping space he had been intended to step into. “A creditable try,” he said. “Pity I’ve seen these tricks before.” He raised his shattergun, keeping his expression calm despite his awareness of his danger. A ghost could only move small objects, but here there might be a hundred small objects that could release steam or poison fumes or heavy weights if moved. “Why don’t you go in the trap like a good lad?” he said, putting the trap down on a section of deck that he made sure was solid. “This is the end of the road, you know.” Silence greeted him. He turned a slow circle, raising the shattergun. “You’re dead,” he said. “Stone cold dead. Your corpse is sinking to the bottom of the Channel or spattered across some unfortunate farmer’s hayfield. All that remains for you is to let go your precarious grip on this plane of existence and go to whatever awaits you.” There was no answer. “Or I can shoot you with this shattergun and destroy your soul. Would you like that better?” He heard the moaning again, rising to a ragged wail like a child’s crying. He took cautious steps toward it, aware of every rattle in the machinery around him. A wisp of smoke was curled up in a niche between the steel curves of two large engines, wailing forlornly. He raised the shattergun, and the smoke solidified into a dark-haired shape in an English airman’s uniform. It was a woman, and when she raised her head, he could see from the jagged ruin of one side of her skull that she’d met her end in an abrupt collision with some blunt object. “Don’t shoot me!” He lowered the shattergun cautiously. “I would far rather not.” “I don’t want to be dead,” she said. “I’m still here, I’m still here—” “You died weeks ago,” Xavier said. Six weeks ago, assuming she was a casualty of the most recent skirmish. “Your body is miles away and decomposing. You are dead, and the sooner you grasp that, the sooner you can move on.” “I won’t go in that thing.” “You will,” Xavier said briskly, knowing gentleness would be no mercy now. “The trap will confine you painlessly while I remove you from the site of your death.” He hefted the shattergun, but left the safety on. “Or I destroy your soul. That, I promise you, will hurt.” “I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, lifting a stubborn chin. It took stubbornness to be a woman in the service. “There’s been sabotage.” “It wasn’t me.” “No, I don’t think it was,” he said. He was watching her face, and he saw her eyes move past him, fixing on something behind his shoulder. She cried out, but he was already moving, and threw himself to the deck as a blast of superheated steam singed the back of his neck. Steam swam in front of his eyes, and something darker within it: a second ghost, and one that was up to no good. He pushed himself up to one elbow and reached out with his gloved hand, thrusting its mesh of wiring into the yielding substance of the new ghost and then clenching his fist. The ghost was a chill weight as he began drawing his hand back toward the trap. He had expected it to be too clever to be caught so easily. There was no resistance. He understood why a moment too late as the ghost rushed toward him, and then into him, reaching for Xavier’s heart. Clever after all, he had time to think, before the sensation of being hollowed out from the inside sent him plunging into shellshock-vivid memory, a predictable and yet unavoidable descent—   —Xavier ducked under the web of grappling lines that bound the two ships together and fired between them, flattening himself against the remains of the breached gondola wall to reload. Through his goggles, he could see souls curling up out of the bodies that littered the deck, drifting free or swirling in snakelike muddled circles as if seeking a way back in. The wind screamed. He reached down with his gloved hand to yank the nearest circling soul firmly free from its body, and held it flailing in his fist. He found his trap with the other hand, or what remained of it, shattered fragments. He shoved the soul at them anyway, but it wouldn’t go in. “Never mind the sodding dead!” someone shouted, firing from beside him, but the only certainty he had in a world full of flying debris and blood was that the souls needed to come out of the corpses, extracted like rotten teeth. He raised his head, and saw the shattergun pointed at him from across the narrow gap between the ships. He flung himself to one side, and the blast caught him on the side of the chest rather than between the eyes. I’m still here, he thought, I’m still here, and then saw the curling smoke trailing away from his chest like a ragged cloud torn apart by the wind. His breath caught in his chest, and then stopped, like something he’d forgotten how to do a long time ago. He didn’t breathe, but he still moved, crushing the soul in his fist against his chest, reaching out mechanically for the remains of the trap, pressing it to his chest, then pressing harder. Harder, until the glass cut through skin and flesh, trapping the soul coiled half in, half out of his chest. Harder, until he bled, and breathed—   —He gasped for breath, and he was in the hospital ward, with Morrow sitting in a straight-backed chair at the foot of the bed, a look of interest on his stubbled face. “You know, it never occurred to me to try what you did. Not that it would have worked for long.” Xavier looked down, and saw an alien construction of glass and metal wrapped around his chest, smoke swirling in its depths and an electric buzz humming against his skin. He breathed, trying not to gasp like a drowning swimmer. Each breath came more predictably than the last, but not more easily. “I built you a more stable housing for your passenger,” Morrow said. “Tell me, what is it like? Having someone else’s soul animating your body?” He leaned forward eagerly, chin rested on his fist. “Who is he?” “Corporal Thomas Carlisle. Now unfortunately deceased. His service record is brief and unenlightening. You haven’t answered my question.” “I’m alive,” Xavier said, but he had seen his soul shattered. Had felt himself dying. He reached up with one shaky hand and spread his fingers across the warm metal. Someone else was there as well, holding on to the inside of his chest as if wrapping desperate fingers around his ribs, determined not to let go—   His head snapped back and he tasted blood as Thomas’s shadowy form erupted from his chest, thrusting the invading ghost out with him and holding it at arm’s length. “Possessive, are you?” Xavier managed, reaching blindly for the trap and finding it thankfully intact. He maneuvered it closer to where the ghost was writhing in Thomas’s grip, trying to ignore the warning ache in his chest. “You know it.” The German ghost was solid enough now for Xavier to see his uniform and the grim set of his jaw as he fought Thomas’s grasp. Xavier’s thumb slipped clumsily off the trap’s trigger the first time he tried it, and then slipped again. The increasing pain was becoming a problem. Finally he hit it solidly, and watched in satisfaction as the ghost became a rushing fog that swirled into the trap and disappeared. His vision blurred, and he realized he hadn’t breathed in some time. He spread one hand in warning, and felt the soul rush back into his chest, its grip tightening, but still not as firm as it had been even a few hours before. Xavier spread his hand across the soul cage, a habitual gesture that still brought irrational comfort. Not much time. But enough to finish the business at hand. “Your turn, now,” he said to the English airman’s ghost, as lightly as he could manage. “Don’t dawdle, we haven’t got all day.” She slipped down from her perch and approached the trap, hanging back a healthy distance from its electric hum. “What happens after this?” “There’s an air base in Manchester where we’ll empty the traps. It’s far enough from where you died that you’ll have no trouble moving on.” And considerable trouble doing anything else, with no death energies to give her a grip on the world of the living. “I mean...what happens after that? Where do we go?” “I’m not going to find out,” he said. She met his eyes, something like sympathy kindling in her expression, bearable from someone already dead. “I am sorry,” she said, and then bolted away from the trap. He already had his gloved hand out to catch her. “So am I,” he said, and crammed her ghost into the mouth of the trap, thumbing the switch to suck the swirl of angry fog inside. Footsteps clattered on the metal decking, and an engineer stuck his head in, probably in answer to alarms from whatever essential piece of machinery the German ghost had employed in his attempt to kill Xavier. “What’s all this?” “Tell the captain I’ve taken care of his pest problem,” Xavier said. “And that he can drop me in Manchester. I’m going to sleep until then.”   The moment he closed his eyes he could feel Thomas lying beside him, as if they were ordinary lovers indulging in a late morning lie-in. “You could be wrong,” Thomas said. “I think my clock keeps good time.” Even in the dream, he could feel the ache in his chest, his hands and feet cold. “I hear Gottlieb thinks that the shattergun doesn’t really destroy the soul, just keeps it from being able to manifest as a ghost.” “Gottlieb is a German.” “Does that make him wrong?” “Morrow thinks his work is fundamentally unsound.” “For Christ’s sake.” “Morrow has occasionally been wrong,” Xavier said, but he couldn’t believe the world was fundamentally merciful enough for any part of him to survive when the link between Thomas’s soul and his body rotted away. They would put him in the ground, and that would be the end. “How long?” Thomas asked finally, his voice more even. “Your guess is as good as mine.” “You’re the ratcatcher. I was just an ordinary aviator. Blow those men down for king and country, yes, sir.” Thomas saluted jauntily, rolling away from Xavier in bed to do it. The ache in his chest worsened, and he ignored it. “A day or two, I should think. Time enough to report to Morrow and offload these poor sods.” “Maybe Morrow can do something.” “We’ve discussed the problem. He hasn’t been optimistic.” Morrow’s soul cage had lasted for months longer than Xavier’s own bloody improvisation would have, but it was still failing, the link between Thomas’s soul and its electric cage fraying faster every hour. “A day or two,” Thomas said. “Yes.” Xavier was certain it wouldn’t be two. He slept until Hedrick shook his bunk to wake him. “Manchester,” Hedrick said. “Come on, sleeping beauty.” “It’s a harder job than you’d think,” Xavier said, following Hedrick up to the observation deck to debark. “Or would you like me to put them back and you can have a go at rounding them up? You were right, by the way. One of them was a Jerry, and up to considerable mischief.” “I suppose that’s patriotic, by his lights,” Hedrick said. “But I’ll tell you this, if I die up here, I’ll go quiet as a little lamb. No more fighting for me. I’ve had my share and that’s a fact.” He clapped Xavier on the shoulder. “Next time I’m in Manchester I’ll stand you a drink.” “Have one for me,” Xavier said, and stepped onto the waiting gangplank.   The air base towered above Manchester, an iron tree twenty stories high with jutting piers and thrumming generators that made the floor gratings shudder under Xavier’s feet. Morrow met Xavier on the pier. “Good news,” he said, falling in beside Xavier as he walked. “I think I have a solution to your problem.” “You said it was insoluble.” Hope rose unbidden in his throat, a hard knot that he swallowed down ruthlessly. “I’ve worked out a technical solution. A side application, actually, of another process. Not that way,” he said, as Xavier turned toward the end of the pier, eager now to release the souls in his care and free himself to find out what Morrow had concocted. “Bring the trap down with you.” Xavier frowned, but followed Morrow to the lift cage. It clattered downward, descending through a hell of industrial machinery past levels that bustled with airmen and engineers down to the quieter cargo bays. The lift stopped on the ground floor, generally deserted except when shipments of raw materials were brought in by truck. Bare electric lights swayed overhead, casting harsh shadows. “You have no idea how much we all owe you,” Morrow said as Xavier followed him out of the lift. “What we’ve learned about how to maintain a ghost’s link to physical objects—it’s invaluable.” “You mean physical objects like my body,” Xavier said. His chest was aching again, Thomas’s soul stirring uneasily in its housing. He wished Morrow would get on with it and either offer up whatever fix might help him or stop holding out hope. “Incidentally. Not most importantly.” Morrow had been leading him through the shadowy bay toward the heavy bulks of vehicles, and stopped now with his hand caressing the hard lines of a tank. Its turret swiveled toward Xavier, and he froze in momentary alarm. “There’s no danger, its guns aren’t loaded.” “I didn’t think these things were radio-controlled.” “They’re not.” Morrow drew a bulky pistol from his coat pocket that Xavier realized after a moment’s examination was a shattergun, though a smaller model than any he’d seen before. “Can’t you see it?” Thomas’s soul was writhing in alarm, and Xavier squinted at the tank, adjusting his goggles. When he turned them up to maximum sensitivity he could see the curl of smoke at the tank’s heart, swirling in tight unhappy circles and then battering itself against the walls of an invisible cage before returning to its circling. “It’s haunted,” Xavier said. “Inhabited,” Morrow said. “By a ghost with the power to control it without risking any living men.” His eyes were alight. “The next step in modern warfare.” “Its occupant doesn’t seem very pleased.” “They never like being in a trap. Surely you’ve learned that as a ratcatcher. There’s a certain discomfort involved in being bound into something other than a living body.” By discomfort Morrow generally meant excruciating pain. “How long can you keep it there?” “Indefinitely. Which provides a solution to your own problem, by the way.” He extracted a glowing puzzle-box of glass and metal from his pocket, something like the central cage within the maze of glass and wiring on Xavier’s chest. “But this is the real promise of it. There won’t be any more need for our men to leave the service just because they’re dead. No more excuses for desertion.” “I wouldn’t call it desertion.” “Retreating from the field,” Morrow said. “Going to their rest. Well, no one’s resting until this war is over.” The glitter in his eyes suggested that it had been long since he slept himself. “As long as it’s voluntary.” “Of course it’s voluntary.” Morrow brandished the shattergun and bared his teeth. “So far they’ve all preferred it to the alternative.” “I see,” Xavier said. He was very aware of the weight of the trap under his arm, the souls within it only dimly aware, but moving restlessly in response to Thomas’s agitation. “One of these is a German,” he said. “Not good material for your purposes.” “There’s an easy cure for that,” Morrow said, thumbing the safety off the shattergun. “Of course.” He wondered how long it would take for the German high command to hear about this, and how fast the order would go out to destroy any English soul found haunting German battlefields. It couldn’t take much longer for Gottlieb or someone equally clever on the other side to replicate Morrow’s process and fill the battlefields with machines powered by the unquiet dead. His vision swam, and he gritted his teeth in mingled panic and frustration—not yet—before he realized that Thomas was pulling him down into a waking dream, appearing at his side overlaid on the shimmering forms of tanks. “The man in that tank was a gunnery sergeant,” Thomas said. “A good soldier. He’s in incredible pain, and Morrow threatens him with the shattergun whenever he makes a credible effort to tear himself free.” Xavier spread his hands in acknowledgement, but did not reply. Morrow was in no state to hear objections to his plan, and if he objected too strongly, Morrow had the life-saving soul cage to withhold from him. The hope Morrow had kindled beat in his throat, a desperate desire to live at any cost. All he had to do was accept. “We’re dead men anyway,” Thomas said. “So we are,” Xavier said, and opened the trap. The ghosts erupted out of the trap and streamed as one toward Morrow. Thomas followed them, striding forward, and Xavier staggered back, his chest burning. “Xavier,” Morrow said, disapproving but not afraid yet. “So clumsy of me,” Xavier said. He managed to take a breath, and then couldn’t remember how to take another one. Morrow pointed the shattergun at Thomas’s chest, and Xavier strained to move, but his limbs felt filled with lead. Morrow pulled the trigger, but the gun didn’t fire. The safety was engaged again, and clearly stuck fast as Morrow struggled to disengage it. Xavier could make out some individual forms within the roiling mass of souls, the faces of dead men and women, all painfully young. The soul of the woman airman hung back, reaching into the tank with both hands, tugging the ghost inside free of its metal bulk. Other ghostly hands were on the shattergun, twisting it in Morrow’s hand, pressing its muzzle toward his temple. Morrow tugged at the gun, and then fought for it, still looking more annoyed than afraid. For a moment Xavier met Thomas’s eyes. He knew he should shake his head, forbid murder, but he took refuge in the weariness that made shaking his head a Herculean task. The ghosts were moaning, now, a rising wail of single-minded purpose. Even without goggles, Morrow looked as if he could hear them now, or perhaps he only felt their chill as they swarmed him, writhing against his skin. “You’re all dead men,” Morrow said. There was acceptance in their voices. Their grip on this world was loosening, the pull of whatever lay beyond growing stronger by the second. Now, he mouthed in choking silence, and he saw Thomas nod, his eyes smiling. It seemed all right then to let his eyes close. He heard, rather than saw, the safety catch on the shattergun give, and as if from a long way away he heard it fire.   Time passed, and went on passing. He could feel hands inside his chest, holding desperately tight to his ribs, familiar and yet strange. The metal grating of the floor was cold against his cheek. He lifted his head. Hurry, someone urged. Xavier tried to stand, and failed. He crawled instead, inching his way toward Morrow’s still form. Morrow’s chest was moving shallowly, but his stare was sightless. He felt across the grating until he found the soul cage that had fallen from Morrow’s hand. It felt warm even through his glove. He tore open Morrow’s collar and pressed it to Morrow’s skin. Wires sprouted from it, burrowing into bare flesh. He felt a surge of envy, and the presence within him writhed in denial and anger, holding on tighter. Morrow opened his eyes. “Maybe not such dead men,” he said, the voice Morrow’s but the tone teasing and familiar. “Morrow?” “I expect I had better be.” “If you’re in there ...” Xavier spread his hand across the soul cage on his chest. “Airman Anna Lambert,” the woman airman said, as close as if she were sitting on his lap, not a position he’d ever been in with a woman. He could feel her amusement at that thought. “You’d better get used to it, since I don’t want to die and neither do you.” “Pleased to meet you.” “Such pretty manners, yet. I think we’ll do all right.” She retreated back into the soul cage, settling in like a cat turning round before curling into its basket. Morrow sat up cautiously, fingering the soul cage where it pulsed against his skin. “We need to find another one of these to house your passenger in the long term,” he said, and then frowned. “Unless he made only one?” “Morrow never made only one of anything.” Xavier looked around at the empty trap and the motionless tank. Souls still roiled within the others, aching to be ripped free. But first things first. “What are we going to say happened here?” “I don’t know what you mean,” Morrow said, looking at him with Thomas’s most level gaze. “I admit I’m not feeling...entirely myself. A touch of shell shock, maybe. Requiring a holiday from my work while I figure out what in blazes Morrow was doing here and how to give the impression I understand it.” “His mind is gone?” “Gone wherever shattered souls go. Gottlieb might still be right.” “I’m not going to weep for Morrow either way,” Xavier said. “I’m Morrow. You’d better keep that straight.” “A touch of shell shock myself,” Xavier said. “I don’t know what I was saying.” “Think nothing of it, old chap,” Morrow said, and turned to regard the tanks. “Gruesome things, aren’t they? I think we’ll be writing this off as a failed experiment.” “You mean that you’ll be writing it off,” Xavier said. “If you can transplant Lambert here into more permanent housing without accident—I expect Morrow left good notes—” “I devoutly hope so.” “Then I’ve got work to do in the field. This war won’t stop making ghosts.” He felt a twinge of loss at the thought of making those bloody rounds without Thomas curled under his breastbone, and told himself angrily not to be a fool. “Kiss him, for Christ’s sake,” Lambert said. “I would.” Xavier coughed, and Morrow looked at him in alarm. “My passenger has an unfortunate sense of humor,” he said by way of explanation. “That ought to suit you,” Morrow said. He looked as if he felt a certain degree of loss himself. It would have been madness to make any such gesture in the air base, but Xavier reached out and caught his hand, and Morrow held it, his rough fingers unfamiliar in Xavier’s own. “I’m still here,” Xavier said, and went on breathing.   END   "Ratcatcher" was originally published in Mothership Zeta and is copyright Amy Griswold, 2016. This recording is a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives license which means you can share it with anyone you’d like, but please don’t change or sell it. Our theme is “Aurora Borealis” by Bird Creek, available through the Google Audio Library. You can support GlitterShip by checking out our Patreon at patreon.com/keffy, subscribing to our feed, leaving reviews on iTunes, or buying your own copy of the Summer 2018 issue at www.glittership.com/buy. You can also support us by picking up a free audiobook at  www.audibletrial.com/glittership. Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a GlitterShip original, "The Girl With All the Ghosts" by Alex Yuschik.  

There's a new Jerry in town and he is not a sad sack like the Jerry we know and, uh, love? I guess? This Jerry has broad shoulders and a devious grin. This Jerry is a winner, and not even Rick can stop him. Catch up with your favorite characters, including a visit to the Citadel of Ricks in this episode and Mecha Robot Battle in this stunning conclusion!

There's a new Jerry in town and he is not a sad sack like the Jerry we know and, uh, love? I guess? This Jerry has broad shoulders and a devious grin. This Jerry is a winner, and not even Rick can stop him. Catch up with your favorite characters, including a visit to the Citadel of Ricks in this episode!

There's a new Jerry in town and he is not a sad sack like the Jerry we know and, uh, love? I guess? This Jerry has broad shoulders and a devious grin. This Jerry is a winner, and not even Rick can stop him. Catch up with your favorite characters, including a visit from Doofus Rick and Eric Stoltz mask morty in this new multi-part story from Oni Press.

There's a new Jerry in town and he is not a sad sack like the Jerry we know and, uh, love? I guess? This Jerry has broad shoulders and a devious grin. This Jerry is a winner, and not even Rick can stop him. Catch up with your favorite characters, including a visit from Doofus Rick and Eric Stoltz mask morty in this new multi-part story from Oni Press.

Are you scared of setting goals in case you fail them? Is this fear keeping you in your comfort zone and away from becoming extraordinary? Dan discusses removing excuses, the value of failure, expanding your comfort zone and tearing down the barriers to potential. ROMcast provides bite-sized chunks of health, happiness, fitness and performance. Presented by Exercise Physiologist and Scientist, Coach and Director of Range of Motion, Dan Williams. Enjoy ROMcast? We'd love if you could rate or review our show on iTunes or Stitcher, and don't forget to subscribe on iTunes or Stitcher so you don't miss future episodes! SHOW NOTES: Episode Transcript: Are you Scared of Setting Goals In Case You Fail? Do you have a plan for your future? Something you want to do? Somewhere you want to be? Maybe it’s big and world changing. Maybe it’s so small and no one would ever notice, but it’s enough for a spark of self accomplishment and a tiny but determined pump of the fist. Do you know how you’re going to get there? Do you have a plan? Have you set your mind to making it happen? It’s not a dream, it’s a goal. Now, some people are ‘goal people’. They write them out and stick them on their bathroom mirror. They see them every time they brush their teeth. Maybe they even post them on Facebook. And maybe that’s not your style. You’re not a ‘scream them from the rooftops’ kind of person. And that’s cool. Maybe you’re a ‘whisper them from under the bed’ type of person. Maybe you’re not even that. Maybe you goals never escape the deepest reaches of your mind. Because if you don’t set a goal you can’t fail it right? It’s a deep seeded human fear to not be good enough. Normally we can avoid this inadequacy, but with goals, we’re putting ourselves out there. We’re formalising our dreams and exposing our inner drive. We’re testing our ability to achieve something we set out to. The fear here is a common on. ‘If I give it my all and fall short, then I’ll know I wasn’t good enough’. The fear is real. And for many people the fear is enough to push those dreams down so deep in their hearts that they never see the light of day. Part of this fear has a name. Self handicapping. Self handicapping is when you give yourself an excuse to fail. So if you do fall short of your goals, it’s not really a failure – because you’d given yourself a way out anyway. You’re blaming the failure on a handicap that you’ve created, not on your own ability. This means it can never be your fault. It means you don’t have to take responsibility for your shortcomings. It means you let life happen and fall back on a fixed mindset and the crutch of ‘fate’ rather than a growth mindset where you know you can do anything you put your mind to. Remember when you were a kid and you lost a race at lunchtime with your friend. ‘I wasn’t racing’ you cry! And suddenly you didn’t actually lose that race, because you weren’t ‘all in’. You can find examples of handicapping littered all throughout your life. ‘I probably won’t get this job because I’m underqualified’. ‘I won’t do well in this workout because I’m sore’. ‘I didn’t study enough so I’m not going to do well in this exam’. ‘I doubt I’ll lose weight because I smashed that entire tub of Ben and Jerries icecream’. Suddenly not getting the job becomes ok, not doing well in the workout becomes ok, bombing the exam becomes ok, putting on weight becomes ok. It becomes ok because you haven’t failed at all, you’ve planted a reason that makes failure ok. You’ve given yourself an emergency exit – a way out. And by making failure ok, it’s not failure at all – because you weren’t really trying. And this isn’t ok. There’s a reason for everything we do, even if it’s not immediately apparent. Everything we do, we do to move away from pain or towards pleasure. The reason for self handicapping is to protect our self image and self-esteem. But you’ll spend your life living in the comfort zone. Living in your own personal sphere of mediocrity. You’re erasing the extremes of your experience. Sure, you won’t fail as hard, but you won’t win as hard either. So let’s reframe this fear. Instead of being afraid to give it your all, fall short, and know you weren’t good enough, the REAL fear should be in NOT giving it your all and living out your days wondering just how great you could have been. How much impact you could have had? How many of your dreams could have come true? Now if this sounds like you, things are about to get a bit scary, because we’re about to start removing that safety net. Going all in. Full commitment. This does three things. Firstly, it increases your chance of success. If you prepare well and increase your effort, you’re more likely to achieve whatever it is you’re directing your effort to. Secondly it improves your self confidence and reduces anxiety. Going in to an interview, exam or sporting event knowing you’d done everything in your power to ensure success gives you a wave of confidence you can’t get anywhere else, a wave that washes away any anxiety you have about your perceived inadequacies. And finally, at the end of the day, after the race has been won or lost, full commitment gives you a deep seeded satisfaction. A satisfaction in the process, not the outcome. And sure, maybe everything you had wasn’t enough. And that’s ok. Believe it or not, the hollow feeling of accomplishment you’ll feel from winning easily is dwarfed by the accomplishment you’ll feel from failing at the end of your full effort. Plus, there’s so much value in failing! If you don’t fail you miss out on so many lessons, so many opportunities to readjust and learn. So many opportunities to increase your chance of future victory. If all you ever do is win, it’s a sure fire sign that you’re sitting right in the middle of your comfort zone. Constant and recurring successes and victories are the greatest signs we have that we’re underextending, aiming too low. Occasional failures tell us we’re pushing out limits. Sure, pushing your limits means you sometimes lose. But the only way to expand your limits is to push on them, to push right to the margins of our abilities and our experience. Trying to run six kilometres when you’ve only ever done five. Applying for a job where you don’t meet all the criteria. Asking that girl out on a date when you think she’s out of your league. Self growth comes from the expansion of our limits. Without pushing the limits, without expansion, we don’t get better. Now, I get it, losing sucks. Failure sucks. But the suck is temporary – it’s short term. And as with most things that are difficult in the short term, they become a positive in the long term. Getting out of bed to exercise can suck. Putting down that donut can suck. But the short term pain leads to long term gain. Easy short term choices lead to negative long term consequences. Difficult short term choices lead to positive long term consequences. And choosing the possibility of failure is definitely a difficult long short term choice. But it follows our rule and this failure almost always leads to a positive long term consequence. Don’t base your value to the world on whether you achieve some goal, rather use what you’ve learned to drive you towards a better future. Being willing to struggle for something is a great determinant of how our life turns out. If you don’t like how it feels when you don’t reach a goal, maybe the problem isn’t with goal, maybe the problem is with your perception. You’re not chasing progress but an unrealistic perfection. It’s ok to not achieve your goals. In fact, as we’ve discussed, if you achieve every goal you’re not stretching yourself enough. The pursuit of perfection is just that, a pursuit. A journey not a destination. Perfection is often impossible, and if you only judge something a success when you’ve done it perfectly, then you’re destined to fail again and again. With this constant beating down of your self image and self esteem it’s no wonder you’re scared of setting goals! When you set a goal it directs you attention to the habits and processes you need to achieve that goal. If you’ve set a goal to lose 10kg, and you only end up losing nine, YOU’VE STILL LOST 9KG! If you can’t distinguish between success and perfection, this incredible achievement will go down as a failure. The only failure here is your faulty perception. The goal directed your behaviours, the behaviours determined the result. You have two choices. You can fail a goal because you fell one kilo short. Or you could not setting a goal at all because you’re scared of failing it. I know I’d choose the failure of progress over the success of stagnation every time. And then there’s some people who say they don’t set goals at all. Everyone sets goals. You go to work with the goal of earning money. Eating a healthy meal is a goal. Getting out of bed every morning is a goal. Exercising is a goal. Every behaviour you undertake with an end result in mind is a goal. It’s not that you don’t set them, it’s more that your goal setting process sucks! There are well researched and evidence-based processes for setting goals. They’re based on the science of the human psyche, and exist to help you achieve, grow, chase your dreams. So I can’t accept you don’t set goals. But I can accept that the way you set goals needs work. Don’t live life never knowing what you could have achieved. Be brave enough to learn the lessons of your failures, to push your limits and expand and exceed them. So stop being afraid. Get out there and be your own version of extraordinary. Recommended Reading: Goal Setting - Psychological Skills Training CHOICES. How Bad Do You Want It? How to Commit to The Promises You Set Yourself

During a flying lesson, Rick and Morty realize that Jerry has stowed-away. After dropping Jerry off at Jerryboree, a cross-temporal daycare designed specifically for Jerries, Rick sells an antimatter gun to Krombopulos Michael, an alien assassin. Rick reveals he sold the gun to afford an afternoon at a video arcade Blips and Chitz, which features a game called "Roy: A Life Well Lived". Morty, upset by Rick's immoral decision, attempts to stop Krombopulous Michael from killing his target. After accidentally killing Krombopulous Michael with his poor spaceship piloting, Morty is introduced to the assassin's target, who assumes the name "Fart". Rick and Morty TV-14 | 23min | Animation, Adventure, Comedy | TV Series (2013– ) An animated series that follows the exploits of a super scientist and his not-so-bright grandson. Creators: Dan Harmon, Justin Roiland Stars: Chris Parnell, Spencer Grammer, Sarah Chalke

During a flying lesson, Rick and Morty realize that Jerry has stowed-away. After dropping Jerry off at Jerryboree, a cross-temporal daycare designed specifically for Jerries, Rick sells an antimatter gun to Krombopulos Michael, an alien assassin. Rick reveals he sold the gun to afford an afternoon at a video arcade Blips and Chitz, which features a game called "Roy: A Life Well Lived". Morty, upset by Rick's immoral decision, attempts to stop Krombopulous Michael from killing his target. After accidentally killing Krombopulous Michael with his poor spaceship piloting, Morty is introduced to the assassin's target, who assumes the name "Fart". Rick and Morty TV-14 | 23min | Animation, Adventure, Comedy | TV Series (2013– ) An animated series that follows the exploits of a super scientist and his not-so-bright grandson. Creators: Dan Harmon, Justin Roiland Stars: Chris Parnell, Spencer Grammer, Sarah Chalke

The scary story of the part some British merchant sailors played in rescuing allied troops from the beaches of Dunkirk. Link to feedback/reviews "How welcome a sight as nine of our fighters arrived. Straight into the Huns they went and soon those Jerries were screaming towards the earth in flames, while the others streaked away as fast as their planes would carry them". "A heavy bomb dropped near us and we shuddered badly. The next one I thought had us, for we went down with a wall of water towering above us on all sides" . You may have already heard Episode 11, The Bee - this version is the much longer and complete version and is highly recommended. More great unpublished history - of the Second World War.   Links - Not supported by all podcast players: Facebook page Please take my MOBILE survey! I’d be grateful for any feedback on the Fighting Through Podcast, or even early comments on the survey itself.  Replies are completely anonymous. Only 9 simple questions, so do please take a shufty! https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/699R789. Full show notes including transcript, maps and photos at www.FightingThroughPodcast.co.uk. Link to feedback/reviews. Please note that photos below may or may not display depending on which listening platform you’re using.     Best podcast for World War 2 history and the second world war

Doug Gray was there on D-Day and beyond. He wrote his diary and fascinating it is too. He even wrote a diary entry on the day he won his military medal, before he knew he'd won it! The diary’s been supplied by Doug’s family. The entries start just before D-Day and finish several weeks after, so it’s quite a rare historical record because soldiers were forbidden to keep diaries in case they got captured. Doug's WWII diary tells a really excellent story with drama, tragedy and humour.  17 June 1944: "Poor old Topper runs into a Spandau and gets five bullets in him. Marvelous piece of work by an officer getting him out. Doc thinks he might pull through. Hope so, as he's the best Sergeant in the Battalion and hates Jerries more than anyone, on account of him seeing his brother killed next to him at Akarit." More great unpublished history - of the Second World War. Links - Not supported by all podcast players: Full show notes and photos at www.FightingThroughPodcast.co.uk. Please rate and review - Thanks! Facebook page Subscribe for free forever - don't miss out. Please note that photos below may or may not display depending on which listening platform you’re using. Doug Gray, below.    Ike Rawson, Doug's best pal Facebook page Best podcast for World War 2 history and the second world war

Jeff Rogers, The Naughty Vegan, may have saved my sanity back in the day when I had foresworn Ben and Jerries, but couldn't stomach the taste or texture or nasty ingredients of then-available non-dairy frozen desserts.

During a flying lesson, Rick and Morty realize that Jerry has stowed-away. After dropping Jerry off at Jerryboree, a cross-temporal daycare designed specifically for Jerries, Rick sells an antimatter gun to Krombopulos Michael, an alien assassin. Rick reveals he sold the gun to afford an afternoon at a video arcade Blips and Chitz, which features a game called "Roy: A Life Well Lived". Morty, upset by Rick's immoral decision, attempts to stop Krombopulous Michael from killing his target. After accidentally killing Krombopulous Michael with his poor spaceship piloting, Morty is introduced to the assassin's target, who assumes the name "Fart". Rick and Morty TV-14 | 23min | Animation, Adventure, Comedy | TV Series (2013– ) An animated series that follows the exploits of a super scientist and his not-so-bright grandson. Creators: Dan Harmon, Justin Roiland Stars: Chris Parnell, Spencer Grammer, Sarah Chalke