Podcasts about Lair

Zach is joined by three of his students, Hansi, Ian, and Kennedy, to talk about their experiences in his class, both when they had his class in Middle School and, currently, in 10th and 11th grades. Show Notes Radiohead (https://radiohead.com) Ezra Weisz (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ezra_Weisz) Miraculous Ladybug (https://www.miraculousladybug.com) Zach's tracker template (https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1rnBNAWyuKMirEbesDdw5kMHDltfkKqA706uzhpNLeRU/edit?usp=sharing) DCI's student podcast, The Lair (https://sites.libsyn.com/595555/site) (check back here after 12/10/2025 to hear Hansi's alien invasion segment) Adobe Audition (https://www.adobe.com/products/audition.html?sdid=1NZGD3HT&mv=search&mv2=paidsearch&ef_id=CjwKCAiAxc_JBhA2EiwAFVs7XOucidDAcD1xiwZHSViLfwacBCL9kUTczaYe-FIi1qiFFBXJRx-m3xoCwwoQAvD_BwE:G:s&s_kwcid=AL!3085!3!379243313516!e!!g!!adobe%20audition!1712851908!83024457248&mv=search&gad_source=1&gad_campaignid=1712851908&gbraid=0AAAAAD5r4AwNF29vkAyASO4uIzfebc3dU&gclid=CjwKCAiAxc_JBhA2EiwAFVs7XOucidDAcD1xiwZHSViLfwacBCL9kUTczaYe-FIi1qiFFBXJRx-m3xoCwwoQAvD_BwE) The New Sound (https://open.spotify.com/album/07YS7ooqYtvPZLlW59MHY5?si=FiARX_n5T8qSApyXgO3yXg), by Georgie Greep (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Geordie_Greep) Contact us, follow us online, and learn more: Email us questions and feedback at: podcast@modernclassrooms.org (mailto:podcast@modernclassrooms.org) Listen to this podcast on Youtube (https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1SQEZ54ptj1ZQ3bV5tEcULSyPttnifZV) Modern Classrooms: @modernclassproj (https://twitter.com/modernclassproj) on Twitter and facebook.com/modernclassproj (https://www.facebook.com/modernclassproj) Kareem: @kareemfarah23 (https://twitter.com/kareemfarah23) on Twitter Toni Rose: @classroomflex (https://twitter.com/classroomflex) on Twitter and Instagram (https://www.instagram.com/classroomflex/?hl=en) The Modern Classroom Project (https://www.modernclassrooms.org) Modern Classrooms Online Course (https://learn.modernclassrooms.org) Take our free online course, or sign up for our mentorship program to receive personalized guidance from a Modern Classrooms mentor as you implement your own modern classroom! The Modern Classrooms Podcast is edited by Zach Diamond: @zpdiamond (https://twitter.com/zpdiamond) on Twitter and Learning to Teach (https://www.learningtoteach.co/) Special Guests: Hans Neseth, Ian Paulino, and Kennedy Pendleton.

A new edition of Blood Bowl will bring changes to how we play the game in general, but it will have ramifications for those of us competing in the Great Plains Grand Prix. What can you expect? We hash it all out here for you - the Good, the Bad, and the Nurgly! Scott, Josh, Lair, and Darcy recap the month that was, including an update on the winner of Winter Mayhem, Bella Chao! Need a little refresher on what has changed? Goonhammer did a nice job of recapping the surface level changes, if not all the wigglily interactions and whether Secure the Ball is impacted by rain....because of course it is, right!?!?!  

Send us a textDylan is joined by Michael Mills to talk about 'The Lair of Zarbi Supremo'.

2022 was a bonanza year for horror movies from all over the world, honestly the riches are so plentiful it's insane. But, what do I think was the very greatest horror movie that came out during 2022? Well, here we have the top 10. The worst 10. A slew of also rans. Some awesome mates. Some special guests. Several shots of whisky and a 8 hour running time split over 4 episodes. This is 2022, A Year In Horror.  You can now support A Year in Horror via the Patreon.Theme Music by Max Newton& Lucy Foster.Email the podcast at ayearinhorror@gmail.comDon't bother following the podcast on Facebook. But feel free to...Follow me on Instagram.Follow me on Letterboxd.Below are the time codes for all the different segments and my guest links. Feel free to let me know where you think I got it wrong or right and of course stay safe out there and I'll see you next month.0.00 - Intro16.50 - 2025!!! This years round up w/ Alexander Heff1.23.09 - The Worst Horror Films of 20221.29.44 - Also Rans (Part 1)1.41.22 - Pearl 1.49.12 - Dashcam w/ Annie Hardy

Lair of the White Worm (1988) is picked by Dave this week, and it's one of those wonderfully unhinged British horror films that could only have come out of the'80s. Written and directed by Ken Russell, the movie was loosely based on Bram Stoker's 1911 novel of the same name - though in true Russell fashion, it quickly veered far from the source material and into surreal, erotic, and darkly comic territory. Produced by Vestron Pictures, the same studio behind Dirty Dancing and Return of the Living Dead, the film was made on a modest budget of around $2 million. Despite its low cost, Russell filled it with his signature visual flamboyance, blending Gothic horror, mythological imagery, and satirical British eccentricity into something uniquely chaotic.Filming took place in Derbyshire, England, using local countryside locations to give the film its haunting yet distinctly English atmosphere. The cast included a mix of rising and established talent - notably a young Hugh Grant, years before his rom-com fame, and Peter Capaldi, long before becoming Doctor Who. The movie was shot in just six weeks, with Russell working fast and loose, improvising many of the more bizarre scenes on set. Upon release, it divided critics: some praised its camp energy and gleeful weirdness, while others dismissed it as absurd. Over the years, though, Lair of the White Worm has achieved cult status - celebrated for its blend of folk horror, sensuality, and sheer outrageousness that only Ken Russell could deliver.If you enjoy the show, we have a Patreon, so become a supporter ⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠.Referral links also help out the show if you were going to sign up:⁠⁠⁠NordVPN⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠NordPass⁠⁠⁠Trailer Guy Plot SummaryIn the quiet English countryside, something ancient… something hungry… has awakened.When a strange discovery uncovers a dark legend, a group of unsuspecting locals is pulled into a world of hypnotic seduction, slithering evil, and serpentine terror. As ancient forces rise and modern reason crumbles, the line between myth and nightmare disappears - and no one is safe from the creature that has waited centuries to strike.Lair of the White Worm — brace yourself… this is one bite you won't walk away from.Fun FactsLair of the White Worm was one of Vestron Pictures' final horror productions before the company collapsed in the late 1980s.The film is very loosely based on Bram Stoker's novel of the same name — many critics note that only names and the central “worm” concept survive Ken Russell's adaptation.Amanda Donohoe, who plays the seductive Lady Sylvia Marsh, won the role after Russell saw her on stage in London and loved her bold, fearless screen presence.The movie contains several surreal hallucination sequences inspired by Ken Russell's own Catholic school upbringing, which he frequently mocked in his work.Hugh Grant has said that working with Russell early in his career taught him to embrace creative risks, even when the material was utterly bizarre.The white worm effects were achieved using hand-built animatronics and puppetry, combined with old-school editing tricks to hide limited movement.Costume designer Vicki Carroll created Lady Sylvia's iconic snake-themed outfits, including her famous white body paint and fanged headpiece.The film's soundtrack includes original music composed by Stanley Myers, who is also known for scoring The Deer Hunter.The movie was released unrated in the United States because the producers felt an MPAA rating would be impossible without severe cuts.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠thevhsstrikesback@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/vhsstrikesback⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

Pitt is in Atlanta taking on No. 16 Georgia Tech tonight. When the game ends, we'll be live for Panther-Lair Post-Game Show. Tune in to join the conversation with your comments and questions about what you saw from the game.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

The Lair crew continues their Shadowdark actual play by venturing deep into the Lost Temple, exploring its strange environs and encountering factions within the group defending it. Missed the first part? Catch up now: Raiders of the Lost Temple, Part 1/3 Get the dungeon: EnWorld – Kelsey Dionne publishes two new free Shadowdark adventures New to Shadowdark? Get the free Shadowdark RPG Quickstart Set from the Arcane Library. The quickstart set includes example characters, essential rules, and a ready-to-play dungeon. Want to know more about Shadowdark? Check out our episode "d12 Reasons Shadowdark is Awesome!" Chapters 0:00 Intro & Party Recap5:00 Gorgoroth's Offer & The Blood Chalice13:00 Ruby Theft & Suspicious Snake Rooms22:00 Drum Ritual & Prepping the Ambush29:30 Total Darkness & The Battle Begins41:00 Chaos Combat: Priestess vs. Party55:00 Rilmorn Falls, Light Restored1:10:00 Strategic Recovery & Magic Mishaps1:26:00 Showdown with the Serpent Priestess1:45:00 Aftermath, Regroup, and What's Next Cast of Characters Zorax the Unready (Chris) – Wizard A classically trained wizard with a spell book full of utility and a knack for casting magic missile, Zorax is more scholar than adventurer—often pondering the mystical while his party dives headlong into danger. Ever curious but slightly aloof, he has a cautious presence, offering magical firepower and insightful observations from the back line. Rilmorn (Josh) – Thief Impulsive, chaotic, and famously unlucky, Rilmorn dives into danger with zero hesitation—whether it's belly-crawling ahead of the group, swallowing a gem, or stabbing a snake-person mid-negotiation. He embodies the archetypal rogue with a wild streak, equal parts comic relief and terrifying wild card. Anders (Ken) – Fighter (Sea Wolf) A spear-wielding berserker blessed by old gods, Anders charges headfirst into combat with bravado, charisma, and minimal regard for tactics or consequences. He's a blend of Conan the Barbarian and Thor with a concussion—smiling as he stabs and only asking questions after the bodies hit the floor. Lila (Erin) – Priest Wise and pragmatic, Lila serves as the moral compass and healing backbone of the group, unafraid to challenge poor decisions or channel divine wrath when undead monstrosities strike. Calm under pressure but quick to act when needed, she blesses weapons, turns the undead, and debates with bloodthirsty prisoners without flinching. Listen to the Episode Watch to the Episode Watch Raiders of the Lost Temple, Part 2/3 on YouTube. Show Notes Party recap: Anders, Lila, Rilmorn, and Zorax faced off against a vampirodile. They meet Gorgoroth, a snake-headed wizard, who offers a shady deal A strange ritual begins: drums echo and stakes are revealed Rilmorn steals—and tries to eat—rubies from a snake statue Zorax initiates a diplomatic bluff as “a wizardly exchange student” Gorgoroth reveals Shanti, a vampire and former acolyte of the snake goddess Nathrexus Tension rises as the group readies to ambush Shanti All light sources fail: the group plunges into darkness mid-battle Chaos unfolds: stabbing in the dark, torch misfires, snakes summoned Anders goes berserk with his talking spear, Valrath Rilmorn falls, pierced by the falchion of a serpent priestess The ritual snakes slither away… and Shanti's chamber lies just ahead Featured Image Meta Black-and-white artwork from the Raiders of the Lost Temple module.

On today's episode of Turtle Time - "Whitney's Lair" - we discuss Mauricio Umansky's hot as hell cover for People magazine and our night at the YouTube screening of Wicked: For Good. (00:00 - 30:20). And after all of that we discuss the season 11 premiere of Southern Charm. (30:20) And finally, we take one last bite of the orange by discussing part 3 of the Real Housewives of Orange County season 19 reunion. (01:02:10) If you enjoyed this episode and need more Turtle Time in your life, join the ⁠Turtle Time Patreon⁠ and become a Villa Rosa VIP to hear exclusive bonus content! We're recapping the Vanderpump Rules series from the beginning each week. And if you need even more Turtle Time in your life, follow us on ⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠. And please, if you want to watch some of the fun things we do, subscribe on YouTube. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textRedge takes Jonathan on a wild ride through the city of Litropia, heading straight through a brick wall into the hidden tunnels of a secret lair. Deep beneath the streets, they meet Rat King Cam M. Bert, a cheese-loving, pun-tastic ruler who keeps Once Upon a Time's magical trains running on schedule. From the buzzing Bee-Train to the groovy Bandstand Train and the twinkling Jolly Holly Express, every ride is full of surprises. But when a jolly jam threatens to derail the fun, Jonathan and Redge join the Rat King to keep the tunnels full of holiday cheer.Go to the episode webpage: https://jonincharacter.com/lair-of-the-rat-king/      DOWNLOAD COLOR PAGE: https://bit.ly/dorktalesEP123colorpage GRAB YOUR FREE PDF list of conversation questions for this episode: https://dorktalesstorytime.aweb.page/ep123freePDF PARENTS, TEACHERS AND HOMESCHOOLERS: “Lair of the Rat King” celebrates curiosity, teamwork, and joyful problem-solving. When Jonathan and Redge drive into the secret tunnels of Litropia, they meet the Rat King, who proudly oversees a bustling network of magical trains. Together, they discover the importance of working cooperatively to solve problems, think creatively under pressure, and spread kindness to keep the holiday cheer on track. The story highlights how humor, gratitude, and collaboration can make tricky situations turn into times of connection and fun.IF YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY about the Rat King, you may also enjoy EP79 A Big City Adventure where Redge visits Once Upon a Time's city of Litropia and first hears about the Rat King: https://jonincharacter.com/big-city-adventure/ CREDITS: This episode is a Jonincharacter production. It was written and produced by Molly Murphy and performed by Jonathan Cormur. Special shout out to Owen Sullivan for voicing Ronnie the Rat. Sound recording and production by Jermaine Hamilton at Pacific Grove Soundworks.Support the showREACH OUT! Send us a TEXT: if your young listener has a question. Pls include their first name in the text. Your name/number is hidden so it's a safe way to reach out. Send us an email: dorktalesstorytime@gmail.com DM us on IG @dorktalesstorytime Library of Resources: https://dorktalesstorytime.aweb.page/Dorktales-Library-Card One time donation: https://www.buymeacoffee.com/dorktales Our Pod's Songs on Bandcamp: https://dorktalesstorytime.bandcamp.com/music Now, go be the hero of your own story and we'll see you next once-upon-a-time!

 On 20 July 1944, a bomb ripped through a meeting room in Hitler's Wolf's Lair.   This episode tells how Operation Valkyrie *almost* managed to kill Adolf Hitler, and the vicious crackdown that came afterwards.  The Wolf's Lair meeting on 20 July 1944 Claus von Stauffenberg's injuries and role in the plot Setting one bomb; briefcase placed near Hitler Explosion at Wolf's Lair; Hitler survives due to briefcase moved Operation Valkyrie: reserve army plan blaming SS A mixed group's reasons to remove Hitler Coup starts; Goebbels phones Hitler; Remer switches sides Bendlerblock firefight, arrests, executions of plotters Brutal crackdown: show trials, thousands arrested, many executed Haunting “what if”: ways the plot almost succeeded Full interactive transcript, subtitles and key vocabulary available on the website: https://www.leonardoenglish.com/podcasts/operation-valkyrie ---You might like:

It's time for the most CHAOTIC D&D But yet! Everyone is a mimic in this hilarious one-shot filmed live at World's Lair 2025 with special guests Harry McEntire & Jasper William Cartwright. ⁠GET YOUR 60 SKELETON DICE TODAY!!⁠⁠ You can see more of Harry over at https://www.youtube.com/natural6 You can see more of Jasper on the Rotating Heroes Podcast https://headgum.com/rotating-heroes Get tickets to Oxventure's Tales From the Guild 2026 live tour at ⁠⁠https://bit.ly/OXGuild⁠⁠ 19:15 Actual play begins⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ------------------ Join the OX Supporters Club and official Discord server: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/oxclub⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Check out the official store for sweet merch: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠store.outsidexbox.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ To watch all the original Oxventure videos, visit us on YouTube at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠youtube.com/oxventure⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

A raw, no-fluff review of The Two Towers — the darker, tighter middle act of LOTR. I cover the split structure, why Book III feels punchier (Helm's Deep, Ents), why Book IV slows to a crawl before the Shelob crescendo, and how pain trains the will through Frodo's burden and Sam's rise. I read this over a couple of months and felt the weight, the world-building, and the payoff.Spoilers ahead: Gandalf's return, the march to war, Frodo/Sam/Gollum through the marshes, and that spider. If you value integrity, patience and quiet courage, this one hits deep. If you've read it, tell me your favourite moment (Helm's Deep or Shelob?). If you haven't: persevere — the last hundred pages cook.Chapters00:00 – Intro & why this book now00:26 – Edition & context (movies vs book)00:56 – Darker tone; two storylines01:23 – Reading over 2–3 months; dense lore02:34 – Detail overload: when it works/doesn't04:35 – Book split: company/Helm's Deep vs Frodo/Sam05:56 – Helm's Deep: thrill + I wanted more06:29 – Frodo/Sam/Gollum: the slow march07:35 – The drag before the payoff08:16 – “Shelob's Lair”: can't-put-down stretch09:40 – Sam takes the Ring; cliffhanger10:00 – “Pain is a teacher” & Frodo's burden11:44 – Sam's unsung heroism12:40 – Who should read; how to read it13:37 – Verdict: “savage, beautiful middle movement”Connect with Mere Mortals:Website: https://www.meremortalspodcast.com/Discord: https://discord.gg/jjfq9eGReUTwitter/X: https://twitter.com/meremortalspodsInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/meremortalspodcasts/TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@meremortalspodcast Connect with Mere Mortals:Website: https://www.meremortalspodcasts.com/Discord: https://discord.gg/jjfq9eGReUTwitter/X: https://twitter.com/meremortalspodsInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/meremortalspodcasts/TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@meremortalspodcastsValue 4 Value Support:Boostagram: https://www.meremortalspodcasts.com/supportPaypal: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/meremortalspodcast

The group's hunt has led them to a moonstone cave, their target deep within the final chamber fitting for a dungeon's boss; a natural underground spring where the Pity Party will take on their first dragon head-to-head!Become a Member! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCMkvQUm_aXR-iKHVUTk0ILw/joinTimestamps:Coming Soon :)Socials:https://twitter.com/DragonDeezDicehttps://www.instagram.com/dragondeezdicehttps://www.tiktok.com/@dragondeezdicehttps://discord.gg/NwFmTWEkGK

Send us a textA tart key lime pie martini with a graham cracker rim is our catalyst for a full‑tilt imagineering session: if Disney's rumored expansions really land, which ones would we sprint to first—and why? We map out five bold concepts and give each a heartbeat with ride systems, restaurants, and signature cocktails you can practically taste.We start with Monstropolis, where a suspended “door vault” coaster could deliver a rare Disney sweet spot: thrilling enough for teens, whimsical enough for kids, and endlessly re‑rideable. Think Harry Hausen's sushi with a crisp saketini and a playful gummy‑eye garnish, plus a refreshed show space to keep crowds moving. Then we dive into Villains Land, sketching two e‑ticket anchors and a moody multi‑room “Lair” where each chamber channels a different baddie—Sazerac for Dr. Facilier, spice‑bright North African notes for Jafar, and dry‑ice theatrics fit for the Evil Queen. It lives on street energy: sharp character improv, quotable one‑liners, and wicked photo ops.Next up, Piston Peak shifts gears to Rocky Mountain grit: an off‑road racing experience, a family ride, and hearty comfort food. Picture bison burgers, green‑chile sides, huckleberry desserts, and a reservation‑only beer and whiskey lounge to finally give Magic Kingdom a grown‑up hideout. Over at DCA, Pandora: The Way of Water remains murky but promising; we imagine a headline water ride with glowing foliage, plus a California‑leaning canteen that balances bioluminescent looks with clean, craveable flavors. Finally, Tropical Americas blends Encanto's color and music with an Indiana Jones overlay. The aesthetics could be breathtaking—string lights, carved wood, and a nightly plaza party—powered by a proper caipirinha bar and savory South American plates that make you linger.We wrap with our predicted build order and a simple truth: rides hook guests, but food, drinks, music, and playful spaces make lands sticky. Hit play, then tell us which concept should get greenlit first. If you enjoy these big‑swing blueprints, subscribe, share with a Disney‑loving friend, and drop a review so more fans can find the show.

Show Notes On this week's podcast, Dan and Kris board the SAG Cartoon Express to discuss an episode of the Dragon's Lair cartoon. With a game this creative and colorful as its source material, surely it must be at least okay, right? RIGHT? Then, in Week Old News, James Pond is back! AGAIN! Limited Run's LRG3 brings some unexpected revivals our way, Final Fantasy's history is all but gone, and the creator of VVVVVV makes a game about an egg for some reason. Finally, in the Checkpoint, Dan and Kris had some rough weeks, and didn't have much time for games. Or sleep. Enjoy! Useful Links Support us on Patreon StoneAgeGamer.com The Gratuitous Rainbow Spectrum Safe at Home Rescue Shoot the Moon Stitches Art of Angela Dean's Substack SAG's theme Song “Squared Roots” by Banjo Guy Ollie Social Stuff Join us on Discord! Stone Age Gamer YouTube Twitch Geekade Facebook Stone Age Gamer Facebook Geekade Twitter Stone Age Gamer Twitter Geekade Instagram Stone Age Gamer Instagram YouTube Geekade Contact Us

Get ready for a double dose of middle-grade magic! In this exciting episode of Reading with Your Kids, Jed Doherty takes listeners on two incredible literary adventures. First up, Rachel Renee Russell and her daughter Nikki dive into the colorful world of Dork Diaries. What started as a black and white series in 2009 has transformed into a vibrant, eye-catching experience. Nikki shared the mind-blowing coloring process, which involves up to 300 layers per image, creating a Pixar-style visual feast that took three years to complete. Then, Jed switches gears to chat with Max Braillier about The Last Kids on Earth and the Destructors' Lair. The 10th book in this monster-packed series continues to captivate young readers with its unique blend of humor and apocalyptic adventure. Braillier reveals the series was born from his childhood daydreams of escaping adult rules and diving into epic adventures. Both authors share fascinating insights into their creative processes. Rachel and Nikki discuss transforming their artwork with color, while Max explains how he keeps the Last Kids on Earth series fresh by exploring different genres and storytelling styles. They both highlight the importance of creating worlds that allow kids to escape, laugh, and imagine. A delightful moment comes when Max shares his own reading adventures with his daughter, reading Harry Potter together and creating lasting memories. Similarly, Rachel and Nikki's collaborative approach to creating Dork Diaries showcases the beautiful connection between creativity and family. Whether you're a fan of zombie-fighting adventures or colorful diary doodles, this episode offers something for every young reader.  It's a celebration of imagination, creativity, and the magic of storytelling! Click here to visit our website – www.ReadingWithYourKids.com Follow Us On Social Media Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/readingwithyourkids Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/readingwithyourkids/ X - https://x.com/jedliemagic LinkedIn - https://www.linkedin.com/company/reading-with-your-kids-podcast/ Please consider leaving a review of this episode and the podcast on whatever app you are listening on, it really helps!

Join Adam, Tyler, Jason, and Justin as they kick-off season 2 of Stargate SG-1 by reviewing its first four episodes: "Serpent's Lair", "In the Line of Duty", "Prisoners", and "The Gamekeeper". They discuss topics such as father/son bonding trips, Regular-Ass Goa'ulds (RAGs), Grandma Space Hitler, and Getting Over It with Lt. Barkley. All of which comes along with more anime references than you would think. Please consider donating to the National Network of Abortion Funds: abortionfunds.org/donate If you've been enjoying the podcast, please consider supporting us at https://www.patreon.com/DeepListens If you like our new art and want to commission some of your own, reach out to Tyler at tylerorbin.net

Donate to help Jamaica rebuild: https://supportjamaica.gov.jm/.Get Rakuten Online Savings: www.rakuten.com/r/ ONYXQU3?eeid=28187 | How can you support our podcast? Here's how! Please visit:https://ko-fi.com/onyxqueenmedia. All donations will go directly to buying equipment and hiring of staff to expand our platform. Thank you so much for your continued support! Any reproduction, duplication, or distribution of The Queen's Lair in any form is expressly prohibited. You MUST have written permission. The Queen's Lair Podcast may contain affiliate links and will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Thank You! | Press inquiries: E-mail - hello@onyxqueenmedia.com © 2012-2025 OnyxQueenMedia, LLC. All Rights Reserved

The Rough Rider rides again—right through the heart of the High Peaks.In this episode, we sit down with nationally known Theodore Roosevelt repriser Joe Wiegand to relive T.R.'s deep Adirondack ties—from youthful birding trips and great-camp visits to the legendary midnight ride that began at Mount Marcy and ended with the oath of office in Buffalo. Joe shares how he “becomes” Roosevelt on stage, why the Adirondacks shaped T.R.'s grit and conservation ethic, and how communities today keep that history alive.What you'll hear in this episode:Becoming T.R. Joe's unlikely path—from a hippie-comedian's son to 400 shows a year as Roosevelt—and the craft behind first-person history.Adirondack origins. Teen summers at Paul Smith's and St. Regis; paddling Saranac & Tupper; and Roosevelt's first publication on Franklin County's summer birds.The night ride. Lake Tear of the Clouds, the dash via Aiden's Lair with driver Mike Cronin, and daybreak at North Creek where news of McKinley's death awaited—history made on Adirondack roads.Conservation President. From doubling national parks to creating national monuments and massively expanding national forests with Gifford Pinchot—T.R.'s enduring legacy.Walk it yourself. Joe's favorite route retracing T.R.: Upper Works → Flowed Lands → Lake Colden → Mount Marcy → Lake Tear—a strenuous, unforgettable line through history.Enjoy the episode—and if it stirs your own “strenuous life,” rate/review the show and share it with a fellow Adirondack history buff.Links & Mentions:Town of Newcomb — details for Teddy Roosevelt Weekend (watch 2026 updates).Visit North Creek / Tannery Pond Center — programming tied to the anniversary.Theodore Roosevelt Inaugural National Historic Site (Buffalo) — inauguration reenactment & naturalization ceremony each Sept. 14.teddyrooseveltshow.com — Joe Wiegand's schedule & performances.medora.com — Gateway to Theodore Roosevelt National Park; summer performances in Medora.Theodore Roosevelt Presidential Library (Medora) — slated to open during America250 festivities in July 2026.Great Camp Santanoni — a favorite T.R. haunt (watch for docent programs & carriage-road visits).Lake Tear of the Clouds / Mount Marcy — source of the Hudson and the high point of New York, central to the 1901 story.Aiden's Lair (NY-28N) — iconic staging point on the night ride.Produced by NOVA

Pitt won at Stanford 35-20 behind some good and some not so good play. Tune in to the LIVE Panther-Lair Post-Game Show to talk about the win, what you saw on both sides of the ball and everything else from Pitt's fifth consecutive win.

A strange new purpose for a historic site. We're back with an Odd News story featuring quirky history, underground secrets, and a bit of comic book villainy. Plus, for our Platinum Anniversary, we have a classic comedy clip from the vault. If you love unbelievable stories and comedy gold, you've come to the right place. Odd News: In Lieu Of Lair In this edition of Odd News, we travel to England to explore a bizarre architectural spot. And we wonder if it might be of some use to a certain well-known villain. In Lieu Of Lair, we'll explore the bizarre-but-true renovation of a historic subterranean space in the United Kingdom. It's an unlikely remodel with a spectacular, if tiny, new purpose. It may be the most unusual space you hear about all year. Spammy the Clown In a featured classic clip, we take you back to 2013 to catch up with America's least-well-known kids entertainer, Spammy the Clown. Spammy is off to get today's "Secret Word" from his dear friend, Magic Mirror. Seems simple enough. But things get a bit dark on Spammy's quest. Hear the Episode Ready to be intrigued? Or just have a laugh? Then listen to "In Lieu of Lair" now! And remember to subscribe to comedy4cast wherever you get your podcasts so you never miss an episode! >> You can also support comedy4cast by becoming a patron on Patreon>> Or you can get Clinton a Dunkin' card or a cup of coffee via Ko-Fi>> Follow comedy4cast on BlueSky, Instagram, Facebook, MeWe, and Mastodon >> Give us a call via the Super Secret Phone Line (213) 290-4451>> Also check out Clinton's other podcast, The Topic is Trek>> Certain sounds effects heard on comedy4cast are courtesy of freeSFX and FreeSound.org Click here for a transcript of this episode.

Pitt beat N.C. State 53-34 on Saturday at Acrisure Stadium in a game that gives us plenty to talk about. After the game, we went live to talk about the Panthers' win, Mason Heintschel's performance, the defense and a lot more.

Oh how good it feels to be back in Scotland! But war has followed Jamie and Claire nonetheless and they must travel to visit his grandfather, Lord Simon of Lovat, to ask for favor. But surprise! Somehow Colum and Laoghaire have returned as well.Follow all of the Stranded Panda network shows at strandedpanda.com.Find Ashley on Bill and Ashley's Terror Theater.https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/bill-ashleys-terror-theater/id1630376625Find Hayley at The Source Pages Podcast.https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/source-pages-a-reading-collective-andor/id1573495735Follow Ash and Hayley at Unqualified Opinions.https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/unqualified-opinions/id1841879115

Steve chats with Max Brallier, author of The Last Kids on Earth and the Destructor’s Lair, about the evolution of the series over its ten-year run, the appeal of post-apocalyptic stories for kids, the enduring importance of friendship at the heart of the series, and the challenges of balancing humor with darker themes. Read the … Continue reading 299: The Last Kids on Earth and the Destructor’s Lair by Max Brallier

Fourteen years of The Wampa's Lair are upon us and by the will of the Force we're celebrating with a classic Top 5 episode! Han and Chewie are inseparable best friends and spend just as much time getting themselves into trouble as out of it again. Count down our favorite laughs, hugs, and meaningful moments with this classic team! And May the Force be with you for your continued support after all these years! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Alyce Chan joins Mic in the Lair (his apartment) to talk about going clubbing in your 40s. Alyce has to bone to pick with New Jersey. Mic wonders if you can still be an adult and creative at the same time.THE FAREWELL TOUR KICKOFFhttps://www.eventbrite.com/e/asian-not-asian-live-the-farewell-tour-kick-off-tickets-1656778251349F O L L O W U Shttps://www.instagram.com/asiannotasianpodhttps://www.instagram.com/nicepantsbrohttps://www.instagram.com/jennyarimoto/P A T R E O Nhttps://www.patreon.com/asiannotasianpod P A R T N E R S -Check out friend of the pod John's cabin on Airbnb! https://www.airbnb.com/slink/penXRFgl - Helix Sleep Mattress: visit helixsleep.com/asian - Nutrafol: www.nutrafol.com (Promo code: Asian) This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at betterhelp.com/ASIAN and get on your way to being your best self.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Pitt beat No. 25 Florida State 34-31 in Tallahassee on Saturday. After the game, we went LIVE for the Panther-Lair Post-Game Show to talk about what we saw from the Panthers and a lot more.

Greg just got back from Las Vegas, and we kicked things off swapping stories from his trip. He hit up the legendary Dragon's Lair gym — all red and black, packed with Arsenal equipment, and complete with a lobby full of keto-friendly meal prep and supplements. He even linked up with Joe Davis, who was out there competing at the Olympia. Greg also caught The Eagles live at the Sphere, which sounded absolutely insane — a full 360-degree visual experience that blew him away. Oh, and he hit a jackpot on Fremont Street, so the trip practically paid for itself.He stayed pretty tight with his nutrition while traveling, keeping it keto the whole time but loosening up on tracking macros. He even found a legit keto bakery called Starburst Parlor where everything was made from scratch with clean ingredients — cookies, donuts, pizza, ice cream, all made right. He came home feeling good, no crash, no regrets, and a much-needed mental reset after months of strict prep.Now that he's back, it's time to get back in routine — back to Ozark, back to structure, and back into the reverse diet. He's about 15 pounds up from show weight and already sweating out the travel bloat. We talked about setting up a solid offseason plan: structured training, progressive overload, and adding a belt squat/functional trainer to round out the gym. Both of us are fired up to make 2026 a big building year.We also tossed around ideas for a Live Savage “Meat and Mud” retreat — a Tough Mudder weekend in Austin with the crew, plenty of hard work followed by a big meat feast. On top of that, we're locking in next year's competition dates, teasing a brand-new Keto Brick flavor, and rolling out a new software system to keep the business running smoother than ever.I've got some homestead projects rolling too — planning to bring in a few pigs, maybe film the process too. Between that, Squirrel Camp, and all the Keto Brick projects behind the scenes, things are busy in the best possible way.The team's growing, the systems are tightening up, and the vision's getting sharper every week. Big things are coming — for Live Savage, for Keto Brick, and for everyone walking this path with us.Greg Mahler is also a lifetime natural bodybuilder, and can be followed on Instagramhttps://www.instagram.com/ketogreg80/Register For My FREE Masterclass: https://www.ketobodybuilding.com/registration-2Get Keto Brick: https://www.ketobrick.com/Subscribe to the podcast: https://open.spotify.com/show/42cjJssghqD01bdWBxRYEg?si=1XYKmPXmR4eKw2O9gGCEuQ

A Hollywood castle's haunted lore goes back to the 1970s.More Ghost Town: https://www.ghosttownpod.comSupport the show: https://www.patreon.com/ghosttownpod (7 Day Free Trial!)Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ghosttownpodJason's InstagramRebecca's Instagram Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Queen of Naboo, Senator of the Republic, and so much more. Sworn to do her duty, Padme Amidala stands tall as one of the most aspirational characters in all of Star Wars. There is so much to say about Padme that we needed backup so we are so excited to have the return of Katie Horn in The Wampa's Lair to add her own mind blowing thoughts to this discussion! We will not condone a course of action that will lead us to war! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

November 2-8, 1991 This week Ken welcomes writer, performer and Cleavland television stalwart Zachariah Durr to the show. Ken and Zachariah discuss bunkers, loving the smell of gasoline, BYOTVG, Jim Henson, owning only two copies of TV Guide, Michael Jackson, The Muppets, Ken spending the day with John Cleese, The Ten Commandments, true fame, how nobody has world wide fame anymore, Sherman Williams bloody world domination, TV Guide editorial directives, the premiere of Black Or White, TV snobs, never capturing the magic of Thriller again, Moonwalker, Sega Genesis, 4 Non Blondes, Ken's Lair of the White Worm derived lust for Amanda Donohoe, Wings Hauser not doing stunts, letters to the editor, trying to make it to the side of the lunch box, basic cable, Roger Corman's Poe Adaptations, The Terror, P.S. I Luv U, Shock Jocks, The Adventures of Mark and Brian, Eerie Indiana, Eerie Indiana The Other Side, Pan Am, America's Funniest Home Videos, Ken's teenager Comedy Central stand up debut, French Stewart, The NEW WKRP in Cincinnati, Unsolved Mysteries Diabolical Minds special, The Jackalope, Christopher's First Smile Collectable Doll, Merlin, MacGyver, UK video/film weirdness, Doctor Who, Sherlock Holmes, UK Union rules, The Gambler, Anne Heche, I'll Fly Away, Brooklyn Bridge, the magic of posing for Playboy, Night Court, Seinfeld, MTV's Liquid Television, thinking you'll get in trouble for watching things, The Simpsons, Mystery, how white Kevin McHale is, Lisa Hartman and Bruce Greenwood faking Dennis Farina's death hosted by Telly Savalas, and Beyond Reality's powerful drama and true experiences.

Pitt beat Boston College 48-7 at Acrisure Stadium with a complete performance on both sides of the ball. Tune in tonight at 6:30 pm to talk about the win and a lot more on the LIVE Panther-Lair Show.

Are you prepping for the end of the year? Are your products and services refreshed? Let's talk about it!.Get Rakuten Online Savings: www.rakuten.com/r/ ONYXQU3?eeid=28187 | How can you support our podcast? Here's how! Please visit:https://ko-fi.com/onyxqueenmedia. All donations will go directly to buying equipment and hiring of staff to expand our platform. Thank you so much for your continued support! Any reproduction, duplication, or distribution of The Queen's Lair in any form is expressly prohibited. You MUST have written permission. The Queen's Lair Podcast may contain affiliate links and will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Thank You! | Press inquiries: E-mail - hello@onyxqueenmedia.com © 2012-2025 OnyxQueenMedia, LLC. All Rights Reserved

Pitt blew multiple double-digit leads on Saturday to lose to Louisville 34-27 at Acrisure Stadium. After the game, we went live to talk about the loss and what happens next for this team and program.

This episode we are back in Lubbock, TX, where Mike discovered Monster's Lair Comics (a great name, by the way!). The owner, Rob, originally hails from Chicago, IL so he and Mike had lots to talk about. This comic shop has lots to pick from and since Mike got there a little early, he enjoyed perusing the shelves and chatting with the very friendly staff. Rob tells a great story and has lots to be proud of with what he's built with this business. So, buckle up as we jump right into the interview with Rob! Follow Monster's Lair Comics on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/monsterslaircomics Then, Mike is joined by longtime podcaster, Peter Rios! Peter has more comic knowledge in his pinky finger than Mike does in his whole body. He's a co-founder of Comic Geek Speak and current host of the Daily Rios, The Tower, and other shows. Follow Peter on his podcast adventures at https://www.comicgeekspeak.com/ and https://thedailyrios.com/. Follow him on X/Twitter @peterjrios and on Instagram @thedailyrios. You can also contact him by email at peter@comicgeekspeak.com or peter@thedailyrios.com. Many thanks to Peter for joining me and reviewing the legendary Secret Wars from Marvel!

Is censorship what we are doing now?! Let's talk about what this really means..Get Rakuten Online Savings: www.rakuten.com/r/ ONYXQU3?eeid=28187 | How can you support our podcast? Here's how! Please visit:https://ko-fi.com/onyxqueenmedia. All donations will go directly to buying equipment and hiring of staff to expand our platform. Thank you so much for your continued support! Any reproduction, duplication, or distribution of The Queen's Lair in any form is expressly prohibited. You MUST have written permission. The Queen's Lair Podcast may contain affiliate links and will earn a commission if you click through and make a purchase. Thank You! | Press inquiries: E-mail - hello@onyxqueenmedia.com © 2012-2025 OnyxQueen

Spiders. Love. Metal. Lemmy from Motorhead. What more could you want from an episode?!In this week's episode Jared, Ky, and Ben continue their playthrough and discussion of Brutal Legend! Things begin to heat up between Eddie and his love interest, and Eddie enters a spider's lair to retrieve extra thick webbing to be used as bass strings by Lemmy from Motorhead so that he can heal someone and try to save their life. You know, normal stuff!Find all of our socials as well as our discord server here!:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/PlayAlongPodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Episodes of this podcast go up every Tuesday at 9 am PSTIntro and outro music is done by⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://boqeh.bandcamp.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Music Break 1: The Spider's Lair (Brutal Legend)

After Pitt lost to West Virginia in the Backyard Brawl on Saturday, we went live for the Panther-Lair Post-Game Show to talk about all the ways the Panthers blew it in Morgantown. 

What the heck is a "Strahl", you might be wondering?  Well, you can find out by listening to this week's episode!  Learn what the heck Strahl is, discover how and why the game was made, and listen in as we discuss whether it's still worth your time to play through an animated laserdisc full motion video adventure that isn't named Dragon's Lair, even today. Join the discussion on Discord! Want more Classic Gaming Today?  Sign up as a patron at Patreon.com/ClassicGamingToday!

With huge thanks toBattle bards.comSyrinscapeKevin MaCleod at IncompetechFesliyanStudiosandPedar B HelandFor their excellent music and sfxIntro Theme Composed by Ninichi : ninichimusic.com  You can find us:On Bluesky @HWRpodcastOn Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/HowWeRollPodcast/On Discord: https://discord.gg/C7h6vuDOn reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/HowWeRollPodcastYou can find us all on bluesky!

Pitt beat Central Michigan 45-17 at Acrisure Stadium on Saturday to start the 2025 season 2-0. After the game, we went live to talk about the Panthers' win and what stood out with comments and questions from Pitt fans. 

Pitt opened the 2025 season with a blowout win over Duquesne at Acrisure Stadium. Tune in tonight at 7:00 pm for the LIVE Panther-Lair Post-Game Show to talk about what stood out and what we're taking out of the season opener.

With huge thanks toBattle bards.comSyrinscapeKevin MaCleod at IncompetechFesliyanStudiosandPedar B HelandFor their excellent music and sfxIntro Theme Composed by Ninichi : ninichimusic.com  You can find us:On Bluesky @HWRpodcastOn Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/HowWeRollPodcast/On Discord: https://discord.gg/C7h6vuDOn reddit: https://www.reddit.com/r/HowWeRollPodcastYou can find us all on bluesky!

Our party has arrived in the tower of Nikol the Heresiarch. What horrors await them at the top? Tune in to find out... 13:02 Actual play begins Tune in to our exclusive behind-the-scenes discussion show Unwinding Wyrdwood after the episode, which is only on the ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠OX Supporters Club⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠! Find more info about Oxventure's World's Lair shows and get your tickets here! Get tickets to Tales from the Guild here! Get tickets for Andy's Discworld show here! ------------------ Supporters Club and our first official Discord server: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠patreon.com/oxclub⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Check out the official store for sweet merch: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠store.outsidexbox.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ To watch all the original Oxventure videos, visit us on YouTube at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠youtube.com/oxventure⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.  And thank goodness for Johnny Chiodini. Find them at: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.youtube.com/johnnychiodini⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ or ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.patreon.com/johnnychiodini Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We begin by reading the last will and testament of Anas al-Sharif, a 28-year-old journalist for Al-Jazeera that was among those slain in Gaza by Israel yesterday. We then resume our Epstein coverage, including a look at his Manhattan lair and celebrity dinner guests. Then, two pieces on venture capitalists driven insane by The Computer and a story by Pamela Paul on conservative women…with careers? Stick around until the end for another Stroke of Genius and a special announcement from Chris. Pre-order Seth Harp's book The Fort Bragg Cartel here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/730414/the-fort-bragg-cartel-by-seth-harp/  And check out his book launch with TrueAnon at the Bell House this Wednesday: https://www.ticketmaster.com/an-evening-with-trueanon-and-seth-brooklyn-new-york-08-13-2025/event/300062F5CD8E3E2D