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Last time we spoke about the beginning of the first battle of Changsha. From Chongqing, Chiang debated defensive strategies for Hunan, ultimately adopting Plan B after Xue Yue's pleas, focusing on successive resistance north of Changsha to thwart Japanese advances. Japanese forces, under Okamura Yasuji, launched assaults in Jiangxi and Hunan. In Jiangxi, the 106th and 101st Divisions attacked Huibu and Gao'an, where Chinese troops under Luo Zhuoying and Song Kentang fiercely resisted. Gao'an fell briefly but was recaptured by the 32nd Army and the elite 74th Army, with heavy casualties on both sides, as recounted by soldier Liu Qihuai. In Hunan, Japanese units crossed the Xin Qiang River and landed at Yingtian, facing brutal opposition. At Bijia Mountain, Qin Yizhi's 195th Division held for four days; Battalion Commander Shi Enhua's reinforced unit perished entirely, their fragmented remains mourned by locals. Along the Miluo River, Chen Pei's 37th Army fortified positions, repelling waves of Japanese attacks, including suicide squads disguised as civilians. Recruit Yang Peyao's unit endured bombardments, inflicting significant enemy losses before withdrawing at dusk.   #197 The First Battle of Changsha Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. Major Luo Wenlang, battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion, 55th Regiment, 19th Division of the 28th Army, harbored a peculiar quirk: he couldn't sleep soundly without unwrapping his leg bindings, a small ritual that anchored him in the chaos of war. Since the war's eruption, such luxuries were rare, and unwrapping his bindings every night became an impossibility, leaving him to endure restless slumbers. Tonight, however, sleep eluded him entirely; he tossed and turned on his makeshift bed, his mind a whirlwind of unrest. Two days after the northern Hunan battle ignited like a powder keg, the 55th Regiment received urgent orders from Division Commander Tang Boyin to race to Wukou in Pingjiang County. Their path wound through Luo Wenlang's hometown of Fulinpu, a twist of fate that stirred conflicting emotions. Entering the village under the cover of night, the entire battalion encamped in the commander's modest family village, with battalion headquarters naturally established in his ancestral home.   Luo yearned to step across that familiar threshold but dreaded it, for his parents remained oblivious to a devastating truth. They slaughtered chickens and prepared meat, hosting the battalion staff with drinks and hospitality, after all, this was their son's unit gracing their home. Luo orchestrated door planks and straw for bedding, posted sentries, and deftly evaded his parents until they retired. Before dawn broke, he mustered the troops, ensured they were fed, and led them onward, slipping away like a shadow. By noon on the 22nd, they reached Wukou, only to receive fresh directives: rush to Yingtian to bolster the 95th Division against the enemy's audacious landings. The 3rd Battalion spearheaded the division's reinforcements, marching relentlessly through day and night, arriving at Dongtang, over 30 kilometers southeast of Yingtian—on the 23rd, hearts sinking upon learning Yingtian had already fallen into enemy clutches.   Luo Wenlang sought out the retreating 95th Division Commander Luo Qi to beg for a mission, his resolve unyielding. Luo Qi, anticipating his arrival, relayed Commander Guan Linzheng's ironclad instructions: The 19th Division's reinforcements would assume Dongtang's defenses. With the main force still en route, Luo Qi tasked Luo's battalion with relieving a segment held by a replacement regiment. He handed over a map, sketching a line with a pencil, a simple stroke that thrust Luo Wenlang and his men onto the front lines of fate. An operations staff was dispatched to guide them to the position and oversee the handover.   As the troops advanced, they encountered scattered soldiers fleeing like startled rabbits; seizing a platoon leader revealed they were indeed from the replacement regiment. Mere minutes from division HQ, the enemy was already closing in, a predator's breath hot on their necks. Luo Wenlang and Deputy Battalion Commander Wu Yacui split the battalion, launching a counterattack on Dongtang from dual routes. Fortune favored them; the Japanese held only an exhausted company, crumbling under a single, ferocious charge. They swiftly deployed two companies to the positions, reserving one as a bulwark. By dusk, the full 55th Regiment arrived, accompanied by the rest of the 19th Division's reinforcements, allowing the battered 95th Division, ravaged at Yingtian, to withdraw for desperate reorganization. The regimental commander positioned Luo's 3rd Battalion on the regiment's vulnerable left wing. In the blink of an eye, it was the 27th, aligning with the 15th of the eighth lunar month. Amid the relentless great battle, few noted the calendar, and the skies hung heavy with clouds. Luo Wenlang twisted on his straw bed, his thoughts a snarled knot of anxiety and memory.   At 11 p.m., gunfire shattered the night; a barrage of machine gun bullets riddled the battalion HQ house, raining thatch and dust upon Luo like fallout from a storm. Catastrophe had struck! Luo surged toward the positions with the bugler—his battalion signal chief—and the reserve force, ascending the hilltop in a frenzy. Halfway up, he spotted 8th Company's Lieutenant Platoon Leader Rong Fayu leading over 20 soldiers in retreat. Bellowing "Why unauthorized retreat?" while brandishing his pistol, he compelled Rong to rally and turn back. The Japanese had launched a nocturnal assault; 8th Company Commander Yi Zuitao lay slain by a fatal shot, over a dozen comrades felled in brutal close combat, the survivors scattered like leaves in the wind; the high ground now belonged to the enemy.   Upon learning of Dongtang's loss, the regimental commander personally led the regimental reserve, his face etched with urgency. Under flickering lantern light, poring over the map with Luo, Division Commander Tang Boyin telephoned, his voice a whipcrack of command: Recapture it before dawn, or both would face the merciless hand of military justice. After seizing the high ground, the enemy hesitated to press further; Luo surmised the darkness concealed paths, and their numbers were not overwhelming. Forgoing the regimental reserve, he led 7th Company's 4 squads and remnants of the routed 8th Company in a stealthy ascent. Near the position, a ravine concealed over 20 8th Company soldiers, rallied by Sergeant Squad Leader Tan Tianrong, who had lurked in wait for reinforcements, dreading exposure at dawn under the enemy's gaze.   Spotting the battalion commander personally spearheading the counterattack, Tan Tianrong's face lit with fierce joy; his men, armed with grenades, surged as the vanguard. Intimate with the terrain even in blindness, they hurled explosives into bunkers, trenches, and works. The commander orchestrated the charge; the Japanese force of 40-50 men crumbled, over half slain or maimed, the remnants fleeing northward to their village stronghold. It was past 4 a.m.; the moon pierced the clouds, bathing the earth in a silvery glow. With positions reclaimed, the night revealed its secret: tonight was Mid-Autumn. Moonlight unraveled the tangled threads of his past; Luo draped his clothes over his shoulders, sat beneath the luminous orb, and wept in solitary anguish.   Before the war, devastating news had arrived: his brother Luo Yinong had been killed in Jiangxi. Luo had three brothers; the eldest shouldered half the family's burdens, their bond unbreakable. The brother had enlisted first in the 50th Army, climbing to battalion commander through sheer valor. He and his younger brother had followed suit, inspired by that call to arms.   Wartime conscription demanded only one per family, but battling the devils was a duty for the nation and its people. His brother had risen to deputy regimental commander before his end. The 50th Army notified him first. Engulfed in battle, there had been no time to console his grieving parents or tend to the funeral; it weighed on his heart like an unyielding stone. His sister-in-law, diligent and unassuming, cared for a young boy and carried another child; the long, arduous days ahead loomed like an endless shadow. The night dew brought a biting chill, the moon an icy sentinel; Luo shivered uncontrollably, his tears mingling with the frost.   The sky hung heavy with overcast gloom, yet the moon lurked beyond the clouds, casting a faint, ethereal light that warded off utter darkness. Along the road, a unit's elongated black shadow snaked southward in hurried silence, a serpent of weary resolve pressing through the night. Qin Yizhi reined in his horse, pausing to gaze back: the queue stretched onward, silent and impeccably orderly, belying the exhaustion of a force scarred by days of ferocious combat, their spirits unbroken amid the shadows. After the Japanese seized the 195th Division's defiant outpost at Bijia Mountain, they surged across the Xin Qiang River in a merciless onslaught. The river, shallow enough to wade knee-deep, offered no true impediment; the real barrier was forged from the defenders' scorching blood, a crimson testament to their unyielding stand. The 195th Division clashed in a maelstrom of cruelty; positions were heaped with corpses time and again, the Xin Qiang's waters churning blood-red in relentless cycles of carnage. From the night of the 23rd to the dawn of the 25th, respite was a forgotten dream; Okamura Yasuji, in a gesture of grim respect, inscribed Qin's name in elegant calligraphy and hung it within his command tent, a haunting trophy of the foe's tenacity.   Following their triumphant landing at Yingtian, the Japanese entangled the Ninth War Zone's left-wing defenders in a protracted snare, their advances grinding slowly like a predator toying with prey, menacing the flanks of the frontal troops with insidious intent. On the evening of the 27th, Xue Yue issued the fateful order for the 15th Army Group to withdraw to the precarious ground between the Miluo River and Shangshan City, ushering this blood-soaked force into an all-night march toward the next defensive crucible. Late into the night, a brief halt was called. Soldiers slumped to the ground, adjusting leg wraps and gear with mechanical precision; logistics teams darted through the ranks, distributing rations like lifelines; cooks, having forged ahead, arrived with steaming pots of rice soup, infusing the air with a rare warmth. Though no clamor broke the hush, a quiet camaraderie enveloped the queue, a fleeting balm against the war's chill.   The division staff claimed a flat expanse beside a farmhouse yard for their respite. Qin settled onto a stone roller used for grinding grain, nibbling at his meager ration and sipping the hot soup that steamed in the cool air. Suddenly, moonlight pierced the clouds, cascading down in silvery streams; the familiar contours of the farmhouse stirred a flood of warmth in his heart, evoking memories of home.   Chongqing, Huangshan Villa. Every window was shrouded in double layers of thick curtains, sealing out any sliver of betraying light, as if the very walls conspired to guard secrets from the encroaching night. Tonight's ethereal protagonist rose languidly from the eastern valley, its orange-red moonlight casting an aura of drowsy reluctance, as though it had not fully shaken off the slumber of the day. The feeble glow dappled the building's roof, balcony, and the surrounding hillsides, intersections, and thickets, where armed shadows lurked, capturing every rustle in the oppressive silence. Only upon close inspection could one discern the faint specks of moonlight glinting off steel helmets. Yet, beyond those fortified walls, another realm pulsed with life, a vibrant contrast to the shadowed vigilance outside. The front hall, living room, and dining room blazed with brilliant light. Vibrant flowers, dominated by chrysanthemums in full, defiant bloom, infused the air with color and fragrance; a phonograph murmured a cheerful Guangdong melody, weaving an atmosphere thick with festive joy, a deliberate illusion amid the storm of war.   Chiang Kai-shek, clad in a flowing black silk gown, strode ahead with poised grace, escorting his guests into the dining room alongside the elegantly attired Soong May-ling, their conversation laced with laughter and warmth. At the table, Soong May-ling's smile was a beacon of diplomacy, as she artfully arranged the seating to suit hierarchies and alliances, while servers in crisp white uniforms moved with nimble precision. This was Chiang Kai-shek's intimate Mid-Autumn family banquet; beyond a handful of pivotal military and political figures, the gathering brimmed with relatives. Guests and kin alike noted Chiang's buoyant spirits tonight; his smiles were wide and genuine, his discourse light and expansive, delving into casual topics with uncharacteristic ease.   In September 1939, China's War of Resistance Against Japan had entered its grueling third year. After the initial cataclysm of turmoil and disarray, the government and military had clawed their way to stability, adapting to this unprecedented historical crucible, with operations finally aligning into a semblance of order. According to figures proclaimed by Minister of Military Affairs He Yingqin to Chinese and foreign reporters on the 13th of this month, Japanese invaders had seized 521 counties across 12 provinces, a vast swath of conquest. Yet, the Japanese imperialists had exacted this toll at a staggering cost. Just prior, on August 30, the Hirannuma Cabinet, installed a mere eight months earlier, had collapsed in mass resignation. Hirannuma Kiichiro's predecessor, Konoe Fumimaro, had similarly bowed out amid governmental failures, chiefly the unmet ambitions in the Sino-Japanese War that he had boldly promised to parliament, exacerbating domestic political and economic woes. Days ago, when Wang Pengsheng briefed Chiang on Japan's turbulent politics, he quipped: "Konoe said three months to destroy China; three months didn't work, nor three years, who knows about 30 or 300. Hirannuma had no solutions, down in eight months. Does Abe have good ideas? How long can he be prime minister?" Indeed, Abe Nobuyuki, Hirannuma's successor, would endure a mere four and a half months before resigning in ignominy. Tonight's feast showcased Chiang's favored cuisines: delicate Jiangsu-Zhejiang dishes mingled with robust Sichuan flavors. Chiang abstained from alcohol, raising his cup in mere symbolic toasts to his guests. During the meal, as if by unspoken accord, no one broached the raging domestic battles or the volatile international landscape; conversations meandered through trivialities, skirting anything heavy or discordant, a fragile bubble of normalcy.   On September 3, Britain and France had declared war on Germany, shattering the global order in a seismic shift. Foreign newspapers already bandied the term "Second World War," a phrase that evoked freshness, exhilaration, and sheer terror in equal measure. China's diplomacy surged with newfound vigor. In April, Ambassador to the US Wang Zhengting had negotiated a $20 million loan with American banks on China's behalf. In May, Stalin responded to Chiang's overtures, agreeing to exchange arms for Chinese tea, wool, raw hides, and more. A month later, the first consignment of light and heavy weapons—including artillery and heavy machine guns—arrived via clandestine routes through Xinjiang and Mongolia, bolstering the central army's frontlines. In August, Hu Shih, Wellington Koo, and Chien Tai represented the Nationalist Government at the 19th League of Nations Assembly, laying bare the Japanese imperialists' atrocities in China before the world and rallying global forces for peace to support China's defiant stand. Soon after, British and American civic groups ignited "China Week" campaigns, pressing their governments to aid the beleaguered nation. Waves of foreign volunteers streamed in from distant shores: doctors, journalists, ordnance engineers, even retired soldiers clamoring to join the fray on the frontlines.   "If we could pull America into this war..." Through Soong May-ling's subtle, persuasive influence, Chiang allowed himself to daydream of that prosperous, dynamic young powerhouse across the vast ocean. Thus, on this Mid-Autumn night, his talk turned to America, to his correspondence with President Roosevelt regarding the "tung oil loan." That saga had unfolded the previous October; T.V. Soong had jetted to America, securing a loan with China's tung oil, a commodity scarce in the US, as collateral. China had boldly requested $400 million; America countered with $25 million, a classic tale of "ask high, settle low." Yet, the funds were secured. One success paved the way for many. Soong May-ling had once confided to Chiang: "In mobilizing US aid for China's resistance, I'll make a difference." When Chiang responded with a smile, "Thank you, Madam," he could scarcely foresee how his beautiful wife's extraordinary prowess in fulfilling this solemn vow would astonish him, etching eternal glory for Chinese women worldwide and elevating Soong May-ling to the zenith of her life's achievements.   The most direct echo of the First Battle of Changsha's thunderous saga resides in the Ninth War Zone's meticulous report on the northern Hunan and southern Hubei operations, submitted to the Chongqing Military Committee and Chiang Kai-shek himself, a faded relic now entombed amid the vast ocean of Nationalist Government military and political archives in Nanjing's Second Historical Archives of China. This document, a painstaking compilation of combat dispatches from divisions, armies, and army groups, stands as a testament to valor and sacrifice. Tragically, time's relentless march and human folly have ravaged this priceless artifact, leaving only shards and whispers to conjure the heart-wrenching inferno of that bloody clash.   "October 24, Year 28. Urgent. To Chongqing. Chairman Chiang. Secret. Submitted by Commander Xue on orders." The rice paper has yellowed to a deep, somber hue, brittle and parched; a careless touch could reduce it to dust. Some pages lie fractured, their remnants affixed to white paper, forever unable to reclaim their original wholeness. Leafing through page by page unleashes a pungent miasma, a scorched, acrid, decayed blend that assaults the senses. Traces of fire and water mar the original rice paper sheets, with countless fragments glued haphazardly to white backings, their sequences lost to eternity.   "...The Xin Qiang River spanning from Lujiao to Leishi Mountain, defending a front of over 110 li..." "Enemy 13th and 33rd Divisions, parts of the Hata Detachment, naval units, and artillery, cavalry, engineers totaling..." "...Began attacking us first with artillery... fortifications completely destroyed, then infantry charged; relying on our officers and men all resolved to coexist with the homeland..." "...And launched balloons to direct artillery... our army braved the cannons... repelled them, corpses filling the river, turning the water red..." "Division casualties also reached over a thousand... failed to inflict greater strikes and annihilate... deep inner guilt, besides vigorously training troops awaiting orders to kill the enemy..." "...Attack casualties heavy, then concentrated large forces... artillery fire so dense like continuous firecrackers for hours... released poison gas, Wang Street garrison all heroically sacrificed, then breached... Zhao Gongwu kowtows, October 15"   Zhao Gongwu commanded the 2nd Division under Zhang Yaoming's 52nd Army. This unit first held the line along the Xin Qiang River, then fell back to northeast of Fengjiang Bridge to staunch the enemy tide once more; after October 6, it hammered southward-marching Japanese from the west in the Yanglin Street and Dajing Street regions. Through these crucibles, the division bled over half its strength. A fragment of an envelope clings to a sheet of white paper, its words faintly visible: "Changsha 126-3 Zhang Yaoming," "Hunan Jinjing Air Mail," "Combat Process by..." and the like. The stamp remains remarkably intact—a philatelic gem now. Measuring 1.5 cm square, it features Sun Yat-sen's portrait at its center, inscribed "Republic of China Post" below, with "5" in the upper right, "fen" to the left, and "5" in each lower corner. I sat at the long table in the spacious, brightly lit reading room, staring vacantly, my thoughts grinding to a halt. These remnants are all that endure for posterity, of that monumental battle, of the scorching blood and vanished lives of countless unnamed Chinese soldiers. With hands that once gripped a rifle, I gently caressed those pages from a bygone era; they were cold, devoid of any lingering breath.   As the full moon of the 15th of the eighth month dissolved into the golden-red blaze of sunrise, Qin Yizhi's 195th Division had already plunged into the rugged mountains and dense forests encircling Fulinpu. Per directives from 15th Army Group Commander Guan Linzheng, the 195th was to forge a new defensive bastion centered on Fulinpu, 40 to 70 kilometers from Changsha. Their mandate: stall the Japanese southward juggernaut, granting precious time for allied forces to muster and fortify around the city. Despite the grueling all-night march, morale soared undimmed. The advance chief of staff doled out positions to each regiment, and the troops dove into fortification labors with fervent zeal. The 195th Division's unyielding stand along the Xin Qiang River had already etched preliminary glory upon this unit in its baptism of fire. "Fame in one battle" echoed as a battle cry throughout the division, where collective honor intertwined with personal valor. Honor and triumph formed the bedrock for soldiers and armies alike. Yet, another fire fueled their resolve.   On September 23, amid the Japanese forcing the Xin Qiang River, Guan Linzheng's voice crackled over the phone to Qin Yizhi: "Facing you is the 6th Division." The 6th Division, a name that ignited fury in Chinese troops and civilians, forever linked to the demonic specter of Tani Hisao. Moments later, the whisper spread like wildfire through every trench: "The Japanese army that perpetrated the Nanjing Massacre is right in front." Agitation rippled through the ranks; some donned fresh uniforms and shoes from their packs, casting aside the worn; others flouted discipline to bid farewells to hometown comrades: "Today we fight to the death here; see you in the next life." "Tell my mother I died fighting the Nanjing Massacre enemies."   Some company commanders commanded their mess sergeants to expend all funds on hearty feasts. All Japanese were foes, but the 6th Division embodied a blood debt, an unforgivable vendetta; the Chinese nation does not lightly forget its tormentors. In the Xin Qiang River maelstrom, the 195th Division battled with heroic ferocity. Some soldiers, in their final breaths, murmured: "Die then; it's worth it." Others lamented slaying too few devils, gritting teeth, eyes refusing to close in eternal regret. Now under Inaba Shiro's command, the 6th Division splintered southward after breaching the Xin Qiang; roughly a thousand hounded the 195th to Fulinpu. On the morning of September 29, the Japanese blundered into the 195th's meticulously laid ambush. Qin Yizhi, pulse racing with excitement and tension, fumbled the binoculars from his guard's hand. His command sliced the air: "Begin." War history chronicles: "The 6th Division advanced south from the Miluo River along the Xinshi-Liqiao road and Xinshi-Fulinpu routes. The over a thousand reaching Fulinpu were ambushed by the Nationalist 195th Division, suffering heavy losses." As Japanese artillery and aircraft unleashed hell upon the 195th's positions, Qin orchestrated a swift southward withdrawal to the environs of Shangshan City. Again, without pause, they erected fortifications and set deadly traps.   On the morning of September 30, the pursuers from Fulinpu closed in on Shangshan, their numbers swollen to over 1,500. Qin Yizhi clenched his jaw, his demeanor icy calm, allowing the Japanese to creep into the kill zone before barking: "Hit them hard!" Combat raged from dawn to dusk, obliterating over 700 foes. Qin ascended a hill, surveying through binoculars, then erupted: "Bad! The enemy is retreating." Upon receiving Qin's telegram, Guan Linzheng scrutinized the map, momentarily stunned, then replied: "Enemy shows no retreat signs yet; proceed per original plan. Your unit to block at Shangshan City line until October 2." Xianning, Okamura Yasuji's 11th Army HQ.   Combat maps bristled with markings, staff officers darting amid ringing phones and clattering telegrams. The colossal red arrow in northern Hunan had fractured into tributaries, surging over 100 km southward from the outset; one tendril pierced to Yong'an City, a mere 30 km from Changsha. Vast swaths of northern Hunan lay conquered, yet Okamura sensed the tide turning, it was time to retreat. The Chinese employed their time-honored gradual resistance, battling while retreating with cunning grace. Some units fell back directly, others amassed on flanks—what portent did that hold? In Okamura's shrewd mind loomed an equally shrewd Xue Yue; he envisioned his adversary methodically weaving a snare.   Post-Yingtian landing, the 15th Army Group's timely evasion had unraveled his "Xiang-Gan Operation Plan" like fragile thread. If encircling and annihilating the Chinese main force proved unattainable, what purpose in pressing onward? Telegrams from 3rd Division's Fujita Susumu, 6th's Inaba Shiro, and 13th's Tanaka Seiichi piled on his desk, pleading to assault Changsha—for headlines and Imperial accolades, perhaps, but blind to their exposed supply lines vulnerable to enemy thrusts? Ground logistics teetered on collapse; the air force resorted to airdrops for isolated regiments. Venturing further south would stretch lines to breaking; a severed artery spelled doom for the vanguard. When would these commanders mature into true stewards of the Imperial Army? Okamura fretted and pitied them in equal measure.   At 4 p.m. on September 30, Okamura decreed a halt to advances at Shangshan and Yong'an. He commenced orchestrating the retreat. Changsha, Yuelu Mountain, Ninth War Zone Command Forward HQ. October 1. Xue Yue stood before the map, Guan's latest telegram clutched in hand. Qin's second missive insisted on Japanese withdrawal, corroborated by 15th Army Group scouts from Yingtian: This morning (October 1), Japanese transports unloaded artillery stowed the previous night, hauling it back to Yueyang; intercepted wires revealed a regiment aborting its southward push, standing idle. Guan assessed the mosaic and commanded counteroffensives: intercept if feasible, pursue relentlessly, deny the Japanese escape; he relayed retreat indicators to Xue. Xue paced the chamber, head bowed in contemplation. Chief of Staff Wu Yizhi, Staff Director Zhao Zili, and their cadre tracked his every step with expectant eyes, awaiting the verdict. Xue's thoughts whirled through military stratagems and beyond.   Pre-war, Xue had segmented the war zone's forces into tripartite blocs: Northern Hunan under Guan Linzheng's 15th, Yang Sen's 27th, and Shang Zhen's 20th Army Groups as "A Cluster"; Northern Jiangxi Nanchang with Yunnan Army Lu Han's 1st Army Group and the 74th Army as "B Cluster"; the Wuning, Xiushui, Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border guarded by Sichuan Army Wang Lingji's 30th Army Corps, Fan Songpu's Border Advance Army, and 8th Army; augmented by 3 armies' 7 divisions in general reserve. Before the storm broke, Xue pored over maps, tracing every mountain, river, road, and bridge, envisioning burial grounds for the invaders.   Now, beneath Changsha, 200,000 troops formed a tightening net. The "decisive battle in Changsha suburbs" blueprint had been wired to Chongqing. Chiang and the nation yearned for a resounding triumph as the resistance pivoted into a new epoch?! A masterful drama, honed over half a month's toil, neared its crescendo; yet that cunning fox appeared to sniff the trap's metallic tang, freezing in place. "Commander, phone from Minister Chen." "Brother Boling, good news." Chen Cheng's voice brimmed with levity, "Your formal appointment published. What? Ninth War Zone Commander! First to congratulate; document tomorrow." Shedding the "acting" prefix was inevitable; Chiang had intimated as much long ago. But for a man and general, true worth lay not in titles, but in forging indelible feats. Splendor was judged not by underlings, colleagues, or superiors, but by peers in the craft of war.   Unmoved by the promotion, Xue exhaled a profound sigh. Though the 15th's intelligence couldn't confirm a wholesale retreat, preparations for dual contingencies were imperative. Victories came hard; a splendid battle, harder still. He summoned Wu Yizhi and Zhao Zili to devise countermeasures for the enemy's potential flight. October 2, Sichuan Army Yang Sen's 27th Army Group, Yang Gancai's 134th Division special service company, under Company Commander Wan Mingyu, slogged through the profound mountains and forests on the northern Mufu Mountains' flanks. The 134th's covert mandate: infiltrate enemy rear via treacherous terrain, sabotage supply arteries in the Chongyang-Xianning sector, and deliver a dagger to the Japanese spine when opportunity struck, bolstering frontal defenses.   Past 3 p.m., a crystalline mountain stream materialized. Wan decreed a respite. Over 100 soldiers, drained from a half-day's ascent, collapsed like puppets with severed strings. Most propped their torsos with rifles in one hand, fanning hats to ward off the relentless forest mosquitoes with the other. Regaining breath, they devoured rations washed down with stream water. Some unfurled towels and ventured downstream, letting the cool flow rinse away layers of sweat. Then, a muted engine drone encroached from the heavens. Wan peered through the foliage: a low-flying plane vectored southward, its wings emblazoned with the Rising Sun.   A transport; Wan recognized the temporary Japanese airfield near Xianning. With lines overextended, airdrops sustained isolated units. Wan was prying open a can with his bayonet, the tip etching a cross on the lid before levering along the edge; paired with a rice ball, it promised a savory repast. His orderly proffered a cup of fresh stream water; 2nd Platoon Leader Hu Yaozong perched nearby on a rock, smirking, poised to pilfer from the opened tin. Wan warded off this Sichuan Pixian compatriot. The plane droned overhead then.   Both glanced skyward; the platoon quipped: "Open quick, damn, I'll repay two cans later." Commander: "Want cans? Sky has; shoot plane down, enough for two lifetimes, bloat your mother-in-law first." The can hailed from a prior supply raid. Platoon: "You want me to shoot the plane?" Commander: "Bastard! You shooting or not?" The platoon snatched the light machine gun from a tree fork, jamming the butt against his belly, one hand on the grip, aiming crudely: "Come down, you turtle son!" The other hand squeezed the trigger. Wan assumed jest, resuming his task. "Da-da-da..." Wan jolted; the half-opened can tumbled to his feet, spilling Japanese fish onto Chinese soil. Recoil floored the platoon; he hurled the gun like a branding iron, face ashen. Inspecting the trigger, he snarled: "Whose damn fault, why no safety?!" The gunner dashed over; tall and even-tempered: "Safety was on; how'd it fire without pulling?" Wan's initial panic: "Damn! Position exposed."   The company spearheaded the division's reinforced regiment to raze a recent Japanese depot, guarded by a mere company—but exposure doomed the regiment deep in hostile territory. The assault had been plotted for days; pre-departure, Yang Gancai had toasted them. Wan had sworn a blood oath: No return to Sichuan without success. Hu had jested then: "No Sichuan return means wanting Hunan girl as concubine." Banter was fine in peace, but in war's grip, this was no trifling errand. Wan unleashed a torrent of curses, rising to survey the environs. The main force lagged 15 km behind; advance or abort post-blunder? Enemy rear was a labyrinth; this isolated band teetered on a razor's edge. As if to compel a choice, the radio operator approached; Wan itched to lash out. In his fury and indecision, a miracle unfolded.   The transport's engines hacked like a consumptive invalid, then a witness spied the plane banking left, plummeting, its nose inexorably toward a colossal rock 3-4 km distant. It rebounded twice on the stone, nose and left wing crumpling; the fuselage, fragile as parchment, tumbled gently, skewing onto the slope amid splintered trees. Wan gaped, then bellowed: "Assemble!" The men snapped from reverie, charging downhill in a frenzied cascade. One hour later, 134th Deputy Commander and Reinforced Regiment Commander Liu decoded Wan's vanguard transmission via radio. Another hour passed before Liu received Yang Gancai's directive: Abort Mountain Leopard operation; return with documents expeditiously. One day hence, October 3, Okamura Yasuji's original retreat order from October 2 dawn, addressed to northern Hunan's 6th, 33rd Divisions, Nara and Uemura Detachments, plus its Chinese translation, landed on Xue Yue's desk.   Fifteen days later, at the Changsha Victory Celebration, unit accolades were proclaimed; for "shooting down enemy plane, obtaining vital enemy documents," meritorious honors went to 134th Commander Yang Gancai and Deputy Liu. Each received 1000 yuan and one 3rd Class Baoding Medal. Okamura's October 2 order original: Chinese forces retreated to Miluo and Xiushui Rivers banks assembling; to avoid disadvantage, this army should quickly withdraw to original positions, restore combat strength.   Withdrawal plan as follows: … Xue's October 3 order original:   "Northern Hunan frontal units with current posture immediately pursue facing enemy fiercely, must capture in Chongyang-Yueyang south area. ... Pursuit units may detach part to monitor and sweep enemy collection troops; main force execute overtaking pursuit... Already deep behind enemy advance units vigorously destroy enemy transport lines, cut escape routes."   From October 3, Chinese forces unleashed ferocious counteroffensives against the Japanese on three fronts: northern Hunan, southern Hubei, and the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border; the invaders receded like a vanishing tide, never to reclaim their ground. The 25th and 195th Divisions hounded the 6th Division and Nara Detachment from Fulinpu back to the Miluo River, then to the Xin Qiang River. On October 8, the Japanese fled across the Xin Qiang; the 195th's 566th Brigade surged in pursuit, launching a nocturnal raid on Xitang-Jianshan. Gains were modest, but the enemy, entrenched in their den, resisted with feral tenacity. Qin commanded the brigade's withdrawal southward; northern Hunan operations concluded.   In southern Hubei, the 79th Army chased remnants of the 33rd Division from Sanyan Bridge to Pingjiang, across Nanjiang Bridge, hounding them back to their Tongcheng lair. On the Hunan-Hubei-Jiangxi border, 30th Army Group Commander Wang Lingji orchestrated a pincer against Japanese at Xiushui. The foes retreated to Sandu, mounting a stubborn defense. Chinese assaults faltered for three days; on the fourth night's blitz, victory crowned their efforts, expelling the invaders to their original Wuning stronghold. With both armies reclaiming pre-war lines, the First Battle of Changsha drew to its resounding close.   Over days, Xue Yue received a deluge of congratulatory telegrams and letters from the Nationalist Government, Military Committee, National Assembly, myriad civic groups, party officials, and social luminaries. As hoped, among them was Chiang Kai-shek's effusive missive, brimming with joy. For Xue Yue, this one sufficed. Chiang Kai-shek's telegram to Xue Yue:   "In this northern Hunan campaign, over half the enemy was annihilated. The triumphant news has invigorated the nation, all due to effective command and soldiers' valor; I commend without reservation. Thoroughly investigate and report meritorious personnel from this battle; also report the dead and wounded for awards and relief. With this initial victory foundation laid, our officers and men's responsibilities grow heavier; urge your subordinates to extra vigilance, redoubled effort, avoiding arrogance or complacency, to amass great achievements, my deepest hopes."   As if countering Chongqing's high-powered broadcasts, Japanese radios in Wuhan, Nanjing, Beiping, and Manchukuo blared at full volume: "In this Xiang-Gan operation, valiant Imperial forces penetrated over 100 km into northern Hunan, sweeping anti-peace elements, routing Chinese central main forces, inflicting over 40,000 enemy casualties, a pivotal triumph advancing the holy war. Having achieved objectives, Imperial troops have victoriously withdrawn..."   In the aftermath of the First Battle of Changsha, the Japanese high command spun a tale of calculated restraint, insisting their assault was merely a spoiling raid, a calculated jab never intended to seize and hold the city indefinitely. With brazen confidence, they downplayed their toll, claiming a mere 850 souls lost to death and 2,700 wounded in the fray, while boastfully asserting they had slain 44,000 Chinese defenders and taken 4,000 captive, painting a picture of overwhelming triumph amid the smoke and ruin. Yet, foreign military observers, peering through the fog of propaganda with detached scrutiny, painted a starkly different canvas. They gauged Chinese losses at a far more tempered 20,000 killed and wounded, a heavy but bearable scar on the nation's resolve, while estimating Japanese casualties soared to around 30,000, a grievous hemorrhage that belied the invaders' claims of minimal sacrifice. Military historian Michael Clodfelter, sifting through the annals of conflict, ventured an even grimmer tally: a staggering 50,000 Japanese casualties endured in the relentless clash, a testament to the ferocity of Chinese resistance and the high price of imperial ambition. In the battle's locale, neither side claimed clear victory, but globally for the resistance, it favored China. I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. The First Battle of Changsha unfolded in September 1939 during China's War of Resistance Against Japan. Japanese forces under Okamura Yasuji advanced into Hunan and Jiangxi, crossing rivers and capturing key positions like Yingtian amid fierce Chinese defenses led by Xue Yue. 

It turns out there's not a lot I know about the state that I call home, but I do know that reading travel guides is one boring path to dreamland.The show really needs your help right now. Keep Sleep With Me going and get hours of bonus content by joining Sleep With Me Plus! sleepwithmepodcast.com/plusGet your Sleep With Me SleepPhones. Use "sleepwithme" for $5 off!!Are you looking for Story Only versions or two more nights of Sleep With Me a week? Then check out Bedtime Stories from Sleep With MeThis episode is produced by Rusty Biscuit aka Russell Sperberg.Show Artwork by Emily TatGoing through a hard time? You can find support at the Crisis Textline and see more global helplines here.HELIX SLEEP - Take the 2-minute sleep quiz and they'll match you to a customized mattress that'll give you the best sleep of your life. Visit helixsleep.com/sleep and get a special deal exclusive for SWM listeners!ZOCDOC - With Zocdoc, you can search for local doctors who take your insurance, read verified patient reviews and book an appointment, in-person or video chat. Download the Zocdoc app to sign-up for FREE at zocdoc.com/sleepPROGRESSIVE - With the Name Your Price tool, you tell Progressive how much you want to pay for car insurance, and they'll show you coverage options that fit your budget. Get your quote today at progressive.comCOYUCHI - Coyuchi offers luxury bedding, bath, and home products that you can feel good about. Made with natural fibers and certified to be free of toxins, they'll have you feeling great, too. Get 15% off their organic luxury bedding at coyuchi.com/sleep Learn about your ad choices: dovetail.prx.org/ad-choices

We explore the enduring prestige of gold leaf, charting its fascinating journey from a symbol of divine power in ancient history to a cornerstone of modern luxury design. Renowned for its unique reflectivity and versatility, gold leaf has adorned everything from sacred religious icons to high-end contemporary furniture, proving its timeless appeal across cultures and eras.We also shine a spotlight on Vietnam's pivotal role in the global gold leaf industry, where skilled artisans seamlessly merge centuries-old techniques with sustainable, modern practices. By delving into its applications in art, interior design, and luxury goods, we uncover how gold leaf continues to captivate with its emotional warmth and elegance, serving as a bridge between historical tradition and cutting-edge design trends.Read our blog https://mondoro.com/why-gold-leaf-never-goes-out-of-style-the-timeless-appeal-of-gold-leaf/Support the showThe best way not to miss an episode is to subscribe or follow us on your favorite podcast apps. If you are enjoying the show, please help by rating or reviewing us. This really does help others find the show.  A 5-star rating goes a long way!  Know someone who would love the show?  The biggest compliment you can give is to share it with a friend!  The Global Trade Gal Podcast is a production of Mondoro.com. Mondoro specializes in creating, developing, and manufacturing home decor and furniture products for export. If you're interested in learning more, please reach out to Anita directly at sales@mondoro.com. We would love to hear from you! You can also discover more about us through the links below.Check our out website @ Mondoro.comFollow Us on: YouTube: @MondoroCompanyLinkedIn @MondoroInstagram @Mondoro_CompanyFacebook @MondoroCompanyLtdPinterest @MondoroCo

This week we discuss: 00:00 Bobblehead Giveaway Winner! 01:39 PSA about Spotify and ICE 08:33 Celebrini and Smith surprise encounter with Judi Jupiter 13:20 Sharks get FIRST WIN of the season against the New York Rangers 29:07 Sharks new win song... Turn It Off from the Book of Mormon 34:59 Offensive statement makes it onto the jumbotron during Sharks Hispanic Heritage Night 46:40 Vegas Golden Knights sign Carter Hart to a two-year contract 56:26 Leafs are Leafing. Stolarz goes full Hulk in the goal crease 1:01:49 Utah Mammoth introduce their mascot, Tusky! 1:06:17 New Jersey Devils Hughes brothers announce their book club initiative, Pucks and Pages Partnership with The Hockey Podcast Network Sponsored by DraftKings Follow/subscribe to us on ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Twitter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠, and wherever you get your podcasts! Check out our website! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Love what we do? Share with a friend! Or leave us a tip on Ko-fi! Opening Track: Make It Happen by ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Fifty Sounds⁠⁠ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Environmental bud failure showed up in almonds in a big way in 2025. From a subtle delay of leafing in parts of Nonpareil canopies throughout the Central Valley to some orchards in the northern Sacramento Valley with only half leaf out. This disorder also called leafing failure, severely affected many growers in the northern Sacramento Valley. Dr. Tom Gradziel (UC Davis) gets into the complexities of this disorder, as well as discussing the unusual bloom in 2025. Come to an upcoming extension meeting!2025 International School on Microirrigation for Crop Production: Class Lectures at UC Davis October 13-15, and field trips October 16-17. The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed are the speaker's own and do not represent the views, thoughts, and opinions of the University of California. The material and information presented here is for general information purposes only. The "University of California" name and all forms and abbreviations are the property of its owner and its use does not imply endorsement of or opposition to any specific organization, product, or service.Follow us on Twitter! @SacOrchards and @SJVtandvThank you to the Almond, Pistachio, Prune, and Walnut Boards of California for their kind donations. Thank you to Muriel Gordon for the music.

Jesus didn't curse the tree because it was out of season—He cursed it because it gave the appearance of fruitfulness with none of the substance. He wasn't being petty—He was being prophetic.He was saying:Don't just look alive. Be alive.Don't just talk the talk. Walk in truth.Don't be leafy with no fruit—because faith without fruit is just foliage."Be Fruitful". by VASHAWN MITCHELLwww.BibleDeliverance.org

Get cozy with a cup of pumpkin spice latte and join our hosts as they dive into their favorite fall shows. As the leaves change, Suha and Aidan chat about how the season shifts their lives, wardrobes, and viewing habits. Suha revisits Gilmore Girls, soaking up the small-town charm of Stars Hollow and its quirky characters that make you feel right at home. Meanwhile, Aidan embraces the spooky, surreal vibes of Twin Peaks, with its layered characters, murder mystery, and autumnal eeriness. They wrap things up with a fun discussion about making something you love your personality and how sharing a show with someone can leave a lasting impact. Sit back, relax, and enjoy! __ Hosted by: Suha Musa & Aidan Taylor Producer: Shei Yu | Content Writers: Suha Musa & Aidan Taylor I Editorial Review: Saadia Khan I Sound Designer & Editor: Lou Raskin I Immigrantly Theme Music: Simon Hutchinson | Other Music: Epidemic Sound | Cover art design: Josephine Chai | Executive Producer: Saadia Khan Please share the love and leave us a review on Apple Podcasts & Spotify to help more people find us!  If you want to share your thoughts about this or other episodes, reach out at banterly@immigrantlypod.com Banterly is an Immigrantly Media Production. For advertising inquiries, email info@immigrantlypod.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

8 August 2024 (recording date) — Beautiful summer morning — Slice of dream country on the outskirts of Tampere — Rowing service gone — The wooden bridge — The cover of At Dawn: Early Short Stories — Bridge modifications — Lagoon — Esthetics — Windows of opportunity — True also with creative works — This podcast — No song-and-dance person — Leafing through the volumes of the podcast transcript books — Word-for-word transcripts — My favourite type of interview or discussion to read — Interview articles used to be edited to a very high degree — With recitations of facts — Thousands of interviews — Some humility — A journal — A place to reflect on my own and other people's works — Some autobiography — Goose-stepping — Looking back on episode 4.15 — A new freedom in music in the early 1960s — A few pieces by The Scorpions and The Ventures — Speed — Cars and motorcycles — Being able to go fast and freely — Emerged in the 20th century — Rock music — Expressing new feelings of freedom — Related feelings of exhilaration — In earlier centuries — Trains — Horses — Not the same thing — Creative update — Backlog — So far this year — One full work per month — What Now with Simo, Season 3 transcript book — Discussions with David Lee Homb and Pierre Estève — Land of Youth & Beauty: Early Poems (Large Print Edition) — Singles “That Dark, Dark Night” and “In the Fog, Deep” — Album Passages Dark and Light II — Sheet music book Tales from the North, Book I (12 piano duets) — The real world premiere of any of the pieces or the full set — Intentionally crude demonstration album — At Dawn: Early Short Stories (Large Print Edition) — Accessible for people with any visual impairment — A dear project to me — 18-point font for the book of poetry — 24-point for the book of short stories — Also for people who simply prefer to read a large font — Different editions of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass — Enjoyed the large print edition most — Inspired by the references in Northern Exposure — Certain things happen only when reading physical works — Mind quietens down, goes calmer — Tactile and sensual elements — David Lynch tweet — Emphysema — Smoking can't be removed from the equation — Otherwise in great health and filled with happiness — Will never retire

Autumn is nearly upon us again, but all we care about is TV. That's why we've invited back Alexandra Collins and Daniel MacEachern to look at the calendar of forthcoming premieres and make our picks in the categories of Shows We're Into; Shows We Should Be Into But Aren't; the all-new "Happy For You" category for shows we don't care about but don't begrudge others enjoying; and Shows No One Should Be Into. Tara pitches the 9-1-1-: Lone Star episode "Everyone And Their Brother" for induction into the Canon. Then, after naming the week's Winner and Loser, it's on to a Game Time that's gonna get itself, gonna get itself, gonna get itself connected. Wrap a scarf or five around your neck and join us! GUESTS

Fertility Clinic nurse assistant studies female anatomy.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 7: Pillow TalkI may have spoken of the much about my romantic interludes, sex play with my husband Jerry during my internship at the Fertility Clinic in my last year in college. I sighed 'husband' and 'wife' had become archaic words officially, but everyone in heterosexual relations still used those words in lieu of the official term `partner.' In a reflective moment cuddling, "Partners," Jerry had dismissed much modern parlance, "Sounds like something cowhands said to other guys in the old Western Movies."With both of us in school and working, our quest for physical intimacy tended to result in a quick, but spirited struggle, a wrestling match, Jerry called sexercises. There was only precious moments for a little cuddling time which generates pillow talk. As days grew longer and time in school shortened, we suddenly found more time for each other."Have you thought what you'll do after you graduate?" Jerry asked the frightening question. Up to now my hectic schedule, at school and work, gave me little time to ponder that the curtain would close on this life shortly.My mornings began early. I was due in at the Clinic at 5:45 AM. I had to give myself extra time. On my way to the bathroom on those mornings, Jerry's strong hand often landed on my shoulders. I'd feel the stumble of his whiskers rubbing against my neck, especially if I awoke still in my improvised PJs, worn panties and Jerry's raggy tee shirt."Jerry," I'd chide him, "Why do I know that if I find myself wearing my panties when I wake, it was good to have allowed extra time to get ready?" Wrestling me to the ground to take me from behind, Jerry quickly whipped my night clothes off. We rocked together till he came. "All too quickly," I pouted, "even if you never make me late for work."On my birthday, Jerry presented me with a harem girl PJs, a flimsy cotton bra and baggy bloomers tight at the waist and mid-calf ballooning out in between. "Hmm," I inspected the present, "Sheer. They should slide off easily enough when your projectile rules your brain."Contrary to his rough grab and tumble style, ritualizing the extraction procedure practiced in the Fertility Clinic dominated our sex play. Jerry played the docile partner when we reenacted my experiences at work.As much as I tried to keep my work life as an Intern at the Fertility Clinic entirely separate from my life at home, my husband Jerry's fascination with my role in assisting the drawing of sperm from virile young men occupied not only what few moments we could spare for our table talk, but also our sex play. Lounging on our couch with Jerry in my harem girl outfit, a loose fitting, billowy PJ bottom and matching cotton bra, Jerry appeared to be more intrigued than concerned. "It's a mechanical process," Jerry recognized, "without an emotional attachment. Kind of like the short-arm inspection in the service."Joining the nursing assistants in what we dubbed 'The Walk of Shame,' strolling nude from the locker where we stowed our street clothes to the employees' showers, Dr. Velour, exchanging pleasantries, smiled as she watched my eyes follow her double double D boobs bouncing with her every stride. "You're married to a male partner. Right? I meant to ask you," Dr. Velour got directly to the point, "how does your partner feel about your role in harvesting semen?""My husband," I paused for emphasis before continuing the response, "Jerry regards it as a process, like drilling for oil." I paused. "The clinic produces a yield and sells its product aloof from any personal commitment beyond professional pride in the product. The physical contact is incidental to the process, entirely impersonal without an emotional dimension."Snuggling with Jerry on the couch, I exclaimed, "Truth," I paused for emphasis, "could never have been better said! How could my work in extracting sperm from a male donor be any different from operating a pump?" I shot Jerry an expression of benign innocence as I plucked his member from his boxers. "All we do is work the handle to draw fluid from the well. A pure question of hydraulics. You're the engineering student. All that is little more than Archimedes Principles at work," I declared.Told of Jerry's description of inducing an emission as an application of the principles of `sexual hydraulics,' Dr. Velour described Jerry's reaction as objective with a bias toward structural analysis that she'd might expect from an engineering student. Pausing to think, Dr. Velour remarked, "It's good you have support at home. Some women might eh—not want to be so open with a partner. Surprisingly—men are different.""Jerry is so fascinated with my work at the Fertility Clinic," I shook my head, "We reenact the procedures to draw sperm. Interaction, says Jerry, might stimulate the donor, but the purpose is impersonal to draw the product, not to administer pleasure.""Hmm, there is," Dr. Velour raised her penciled in eyebrows, "a slender difference between the pleasure of business," She smiled, "and the business of pleasure, one wavering on a subtle question of purpose, intent and motivation."I chuckled. "Motivations, that's my field in Industrial Psychology."On the couch with Jerry cuddling up in a rare precious moment, I nested my breasts into his bare hairy chest. The outline of erect nipples proudly jutted out in the soft cotton fabric of the harem girl top. Whispering provocatively, I tapped Jerry's chest with the tip of my index finger, "two romantically motivated people putting their heads together can have more fun than one guy hitched to a post to jerk off."Then came the moment I dreaded. An aroused and tempted Jerry, brushing past the thin elastic band of my baggy bloomers, seized the flesh of my ass in his hand and kneaded it for a full minute before his hand reached over my hip and plunged down toward my pubes. "Slick!" Jerry's shriek ventured into such a high octave it sounded as if I had yanked his testicles. "When did this happen? If you wanted to go bald down there, why didn't you let me shave you?" Jerry cried.I sighed. "Shaving is so passe," I protested, "To avoid infections, hospitals, these days, use depilatory creams. No nicks, no cuts, no razor burns, thank god!" I exclaimed.At the entrance to the shower, I stood with Dr. Velour. Tilting her head back in a moment of reflection, Dr. Velour placed a firm hand on my bare shoulder. A shot of electricity ran through my body. My breath quickened; my nipples hardened, but I was confused. Velour was a woman.I had classified myself as a heterosexual. That's what it said on my marriage license in the statistical section-a totally private declaration not available to the public or even to `my partner,' but of course was available to the advertisers who loaded down our mailbox.Dr. Velour remarked, "Much of what we do here in the clinic to some outsiders may seem a semantic shuffle. It is unlawful for say a brother and sister to have sex, but a client seeking certain features might request a sister be inseminated by her brother's sperm.""Hmm, perfectly legal?" I inquired."Yes, but what are the ethics," Dr. Velour continued the hypothetical, "of inseminating a woman with sperm from a male with whom she could not legally have sex? From the perspective of your discipline, could you prepare me an opinion of whether we should tell the sister that she's being inseminated by her brother? Are you up to it?""A project of that nature would be difficult, lasting well beyond the few days I have left in school-and in this internship." I was reminded of Jerry's gut-wrenching question. Also, to graduate, I had finals to study for. I daringly raised the issue, "Could this project lead to a permanent job?"With a pleasant smile, Dr. Velour announced, "Perhaps, then I should consider rounding out your experience here at the clinic. I think it's time to advance your nurse-trainees' group to the next level, the female's body. The female body, like the female mind, is far more complex. I'll summon the rest of the group to meet downstairs in the theatre."Inside the shower, Dr. Velour seemed to vanish into the misty droplets that permeated the room before it condensed in dips on the tiled wall. I guessed Dr. Velour was in a hurry to accomplish some tasks before a training session. After rinsing off, I told the clerk, "I need scrubs for Dr. Velour's Nursing Assistant training.""Next level?" To my nod, the Clerk advised with a pleasant smile, "Congratulations, promoted to tend to females." A disarming smile filled her face when she reminded me, "With each little step the next one becomes that much easier.""Now, if that leads to a full-time job after graduation ..." I shook my head."Today," the clerk noted as she handed me a package, "you get the Nursing Assistant's full kit—scrubs, your very own plastic name tag, granny panties, bra and white sneakers.""I suppose I could attach the plastic name tag to the Shower Siren's top-the white bikini top the girl who works the donor's shower sports, but," I smiled, "there's something—a special eh, different appeal—to the nurse's scrubs," I remarked as I accepted the uniform. "Clothing defines the person and their role."On the couch with Jerry, I tried to conceal my delight over Jerry's present of harem girl pajamas. Holding the bottoms in front of me, I tried to assume a clinical tone in my comment, "tight at the waist and ankle, puffing out in between. Thin waist band may have trouble holding the bottoms up."To Jerry's smile, I shook my head. "I guess they're not intended to stay up. But this bra," I pulled the two ends to test it, "Cotton, no elastic, do you think this bra is sturdy enough to bind my wrists."Jerry responded with a devilish grin. Tilting my head, I smiled. "I guess you prefer to whip these PJs off my body to use me like a whore." With an evil smile, I added, "I should be proud to accept this gift as your candid appraisal of eh, my talents, quite a complement.""Clothing does add something," Jerry quipped, "even if I don't figure that you'll need it all night long."Receiving the scrubs from the clerk reporting in after showering at the Fertility Clinic, I reflected, "Scrubs do lend an air of authority." My comment drew a polite half smile and a nod.Fully dressed in fresh scrubs, I walked with an air of confidence as passed by co-workers moving toward the ramp that led to the subsurface level gym, pool and theatre. Trading pleasantries, I enthusiastically declared, "class exercises today, Introduction to Female Anatomy."When I entered the small theatre next to Dr. Velour's office, the other nursing assistant trainees, Cassie, employed by the clinic's gym, muscles bulging under short sleeved scrubs, Pat, the big breasted college girl, participating in an experiment at the Clinic and dark-haired Beth the oldest of the group had previously acted as a surrogate mother. All turned their heads to look when I entered, as if they had been waiting. Waiting for what? I wondered. What was up?On stage, Dr. Velour stood hand resting on a gynecological table. "Amy," Dr. Velour beckoned to me in a pleasant but officious tone, "how good of you to join us." To her left side in a corner of the stage rested a 5 foot by 5 foot white privacy screen. Inviting me on the stage, Dr. Velour announced, "Ladies, our study of anatomy of the female begins. Amy, would you go behind the screen, disrobe and put on a gown for us."I shook my head. "Why did you waste time by having me dress?" I allowed a tone of annoyance of enter my voice. "An anatomical model needs no costume.""The gown is optional, Amy," Dr. Velour, raising her eyebrows, snapped, "at your discretion.""You're going to poke and prod," I replied, "the gown will just be getting in the way."Undressing quickly behind the screen, I dismissed the fear that I was being submissive. Jerry taught me that he got over the rigors of the Marine Corps by responding enthusiastically to outrageous orders and overdoing it. "They're trying to cow you. But, if you show you can't be humiliated, they'll think you're crazy and leave you alone."Emerging from behind the screen, I held my arms out, "tah dah!" The faces of the nurse-trainees fell; Even Dr. Velour looked away. No one laughed. I had humiliated them. "I've exhibited my virtues. What's next?" I demanded.After a deep breath, Dr. Velour recovered from her surprise. "Lesson One is prepping, but first we have an initial evaluation," Dr. Velour pointed to my hair "hair clean, skin clear, breasts symmetric, no obvious discoloration of the nipples. You'll notice Amy has untamed pubic hair, slightly darker than her auburn hair."Ordered to turn around, I felt a tingle when Dr. Velour laid sturdy hands on my bare shoulders and grabbed the flesh around my hips. Tickling me by running a fingernail down my spine, Dr. Velour complimented me, "good posture."Stood on a scale on the right side of the stage, I measured in at 5 foot 2 and weighed 115 pounds. I jumped when Dr. Velour placed the cold steel of the stethoscope against my bare chest wall to listen to my heartbeat. With a playful, slap on my bare tush, she ordered me up on the table. I felt my fanny with great exaggeration like a chastised child.Placing my feet in the stirrups, Dr. Velour invited the other trainees on stage. "To examine the vulva, the female's external genitalia thoroughly, there is only one way: first remove the pubic hair." Leaning over to address me, Dr. Velour asked my permission, "Is that OK with you, Amy?"I had already decided to co-operate. "I'm willing for the cause of-science, but what do I tell my guy?" I asked in an exaggerated plaintive voice.Momentarily stunned, Dr. Velour hesitated. After a delay, she spoke, "You may tell your guy. `I was lucky," Dr. Velour took a breath, "`I wasn't shaved. My curly mess was trimmed by an experienced person, not a trainee and the hair was vaporized by a gentle cream."Turning to her audience, Dr. Velour discoursed, "In the course of human evolution, hairless bodies with smooth, clear skin signaled good health. Even though women are naturally less hirsute, sexual selection, ie attraction of a mate, may be the female's hidden agenda in her preference for bare pubes. Motivations and preferences are your field, Amy." Dr. Velour threw the question back to me, "Do you have any thoughts?""As far as male donors," I replied, "and female surrogates, the clinic insists that all females participating in our programs as well as male donors be shorn-With the male a clean pubic region assures that the iron jock strap fit snuggly. Also, it makes visual examination of the reproductive organs easier-for signs of infection or injuries.""In the outside world," Dr. Velour lectured, "some women and men remove body hair for aesthetic purposes; others for hygienic purposes; still many others as a matter of arbitrary choice. Soon, each of you will begin depilating the body hair of a patient. However, first you must watch it done. Amy, with your permission, I'm going to depilate your pubic hair." When I deliberately hesitated, Dr. Velour prodded me, "Are you ready?""I hear short skirts are coming back," I replied enthusiastically, "this is free grooming.""First, we comb the pubes for lose hair from the external genitalia, the perineum under the vaginal orifice and the perianal skin around the anus. Pat," Dr. Velour calling the college girl forward, "You're in the milk induction study and regularly are groomed here. Could you show Amy how it's done?" When Pat snatched the fine-toothed comb, Dr. Velour, grasping Pat's hand to guide Pat through the tangled web over my pubic mound, pleasantly reminded her, "gently."Summoned to the stage, Cassie was handed a damp rag and told to clean my pubic region. "This will remove whatever loose hairs and dirt the comb did not pick up." Beth was invited to scissor clip my bush. Beth pleasantly chattered away before she left me with stubble. "Good bedside manner," Dr. Velour complimented Beth, "Now I'll take over and apply the cream."Taking a small jar of cream, "nothing works better than my own special concoction," Dr. Velour assured me. "I'm going to rub the depilatory cream into the inguinal crease, the boundary, often hairy, between the thigh and the pelvis." The sensation was pleasant when she worked the cream into the crease massaging the outer edge of my vaginal lips in the process.When I reacted to her circular motions rubbing the cream in an arc across my mound, by attempting to rear up my butt, struggling against the stirrups, she, in comforting almost hypnotic tones whispered, "Close your eyes. Relax. Breathe easily. Think of yourself somewhere else with your guy, except he's doing it your way."Her voice-or was it some property in the cream-sent me into an altered state. I chose not to fight it. I was vaguely aware that Dr. Velour was addressing the ladies, "While we wait for the depilatory cream did as instructed, we can continue to study the vulva, older texts may call the area between the legs the pudendum. In the center is the vestibule of the vaginal orifice. Superior to the vaginal vestibule is the urinary orifice and the clitoris, the analogue to the male penis, and the seat of much-eh, eh --," she giggled, "mischief."I'm pretty sure she smiled as a gloved finger prodded the clitoris. "Distal to the vaginal," Dr. Velour expounded, "vestibule are the vaginal lips or labia, the fleshy folds that surround the opening the vagina. Hair can grow in the pudendal cleft the crease or crevice between the ridges of the major and minor labia. Let me work some cream there."My heart was palpitating as she worked the crease between the vaginal lips. "The inner lips," Dr. Velour taught, "the labia minora link up superior to the clitoris at the frenulum or prepuce and inferior to the clitoris at the glans clitoris or clitoral hood."I was there, listening to the lecture, but no longer cared anymore. I was hoovering on the edge of an orgasm when Dr. Velour's nimble fingers outlines the folds around the clitoral hood. "Inferior to the vaginal vestibule are the perineum and the anal cavity," Dr. Velour addressed the trainees, "still covered in the depilatory cream."

Fertility clinic nurse explores magic of sex play in study.By thomas_dean. Subscribe & listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Chapter 4: Fun & Games People Play.My tall and muscular husband Jerry, pleasantly bemused, encouraged my studies and offered his body for practice."First, I wash my hands and introduce myself," I went through my checklist, "Good morning Mr.Warbler. I'm Nursing Assistant Amy Warbler. After I release you from chastity, I'm going to conduct a testicular exam, a complete physical inspection of the genitalia, the penis, scrotum, and testicles.""Oh, please do," said Jerry with a smile.I moved his chin to the right and ordered Jerry to put his hands on his head.Passing my written and practical test, with Jerry's help, I found myself in a somewhat more staid, professionalized environment. On duty, I was addressed as Miss Warbler. I wore medical scrubs replete with a name tag that identified me as a Nursing Assistant.Co-opting in the trial run-through for the hands-on portion of the exam, Jerry complained that I should borrow surgical scrubs for more realism in my exam. "There's something to the medical accoutrements, the scrubs, the name tag, and the stethoscope that promote cooperation of the subject."With Jerry's size and strength, I needed all the help the prop of an improvised costume could bring to assure his pliancy.To accommodate Jerry's quest for realism, I wore one of his white shirts, backwards, over a loose, billowy pj bottom. I preferred the short sleeve shirt to tease Jerry with a glimpse at my breasts. Jerry's T-Shirt fit loose enough; I only buttoned the top button to make sure the top flowed with my movement. To Jerry's suggestion that, on duty, I wear a bra or a T-shirt under the scrubs, I reminded him that paying customers give tips."Tips for Tits!" Jerry exclaimed. "You must model this exceptional garment for me. Bring a pair home.""To leave at the end of my shift," I replied, "I have to walk naked from a communal shower along a steel mesh parapet for 100 paces. How can I spirit scrubs out of the clinic?"Still, even after elevation to a demi-professional caste, we had to strip, stow our street clothes in a locker, and walk naked along a catwalk about 100 feet to communal showers. Instead of the 4AM race of the cleaning crew to the showers, we leisurely strolled to the showers. One of the women walked with the man, idly chatting. Next to me walked a cherubic brunette Darrie. "Think of it as short for Darling," she told me."Appropriate name," I replied, "for the angel who releases the male donor from the cock block to release the built-up eh—tension.""Angel Darlin', now that would be a nice name," Darrie chuckled, "the guys call the nurse in the locker the Angel of Mercy. We call her the `Warden.'"In our practice for my hands on exam, Jerry expressed interest in experiencing me in the role of the Angel of Mercy."Not ready to recognize me as your warden," I chided Jerry.Perhaps, Jerry suggested as he stood naked in front of me that I should have obtained permission to borrow a chastity belt for that purpose. "The clinic might have allowed issuance of the belt, but not the electronic notebook. You might find a chastity grows on you. Without the release button on the electronic notebook, you'll find the belt is easier to get into than to get out of."Under the spigot next to me, Darrie, looking around the shower, sighed. "You're new. The only problem with working at the Fertility Clinic is," a silly expression appeared on her face, "it grows on you.""Quite an interesting comment," I replied, "about an institution designed to grow eh, people.""The longer you are here," Darrie smiled, "the more you're bound up in it, the harder it is to leave, and the more you find yourself willing to do."Though there were enough spigots in the shower for us to keep a respectful distance from each other, we tended to congregate within arms' reach of each other. "I'm going to help you-just for the first few customers-In the locker-just to show," Darrie proposed, "you how to handle eh, the ropes." We both giggled together before she asked, "Soap up my back, will you be a luv?"Turning her back to me, Darrie waited for me to apply a washcloth from the short hairs of her neck to her shoulder blades down to her butt. "Are you married, luv?" When I acknowledged, she prodded me, "to a guy?" At my nod, she added, "you'd do well as shower girl, but today you play warden, unlock them on the way in and lock them tight on the way out."At the clothing counter, Darrie recommended that I wear a T-Shirt under the scrubs, "It being your first time, you might not want guys gaping at your swinging tits.""Tits bring Tips," I quipped.In my practice with Jerry, I went through the protocol: "Second, once the subject has disrobed, the subject should present naked standing in front of you. Some prefer to perform the examination kneeling to the side of the patient. Most examiners prefer to stand to conduct an initial appraisal of the subject's general condition.""Hands on your head, Mr.Warbler, if you please, legs apart," I ordered in a cheerful voice."Why do you need to keep an eye on my hands?" Jerry asked. "Does a 90 lb woman facing fear losing control over a naked, sex crazed man recently sprung from chastity?""Interesting choice of words," I replied.When Darrie and I peeked in the male donor's locker, three or four men completely undressed were milling about inside. Darrie pointing out a fair skinned nervous sort criss-crossing his chest with his arms, "Probably, the new guy, Mr.Flesher," she surmised.Naked except for an inverted triangular shaped dome covering their crotches, the men awaited release. Standing at the entrance the male donor's locker, Darrie whispered, "Unexpected things," an evil smile peered on her lips, "especially with new donors can happen when the projectile is unleashed. Never stand directly in the path of an eruption."We both giggled when I quipped, "Interesting concept."Entering the male donor's locker, Darrie barked, "Line up," Darrie pointed to a line down the middle of the room, "Hands on your heads, the one on top of your head you think with, if you expect your schlong to swing."There were some catcalls from the guys lining up. One called out, "Wear a bra if you're afraid I'll cop a feel.""While I keep your schlong locked," Darrie shot back, "fondling my tits in a moment of joy will bring your cock quite a shock.""You just want to smell my pits," screeched another."Just to check, forsooth," Darrie quipped, "underarms remain smooth and clean and not hirsute." Darrie leaned over to give me advice at an audible whisper, "it's good to keep chappies happy by wiggling your tush and acting a little sassy.""Consider this a eh, dress rehearsal. You're suitably naked and I'm in an improvised nurse's costume," I commenced a test-run of the examination. As Jerry stood hands over his head, I announced the next step, "Third," pausing to seize his penis for examination, I continued, "thoroughly inspect the penis frontal and dorsal,-eh all sides for lumps, swellings, ulcers or scars."At my touch, I could feel Jerry's penis begin to pulsate and gel from flaccid to rubbery. I noticed Jerry's lips pursing. I heard my heart pounding in my chest. Breathlessly, in a dreamy voice combining technical book learning with pillow talk, I gushed, "think of the penis as engineering miracle of erectional hydraulics, a natural pump capable of accomplishing a surge of blood flow within seconds. When the penis swells with blood, the pelvic floor muscles launch the penis eh, into ecstasy."Ecstasy? I questioned myself. That's contrary to protocol which impersonalized intimate contact. Putting aside the delicacy of social conventions, I, focusing on the objective, must conduct procedures by the book step-by-step. The heart may beat faster, the temperature may rise, but the purpose of intimate contact is professional. "Physical contact with a female nurse during a delicate examination can produce a natural reaction in a male patient," I reassured Jerry."Priming the pump triggers the launch. I hope so," Jerry replied.Announcing as we swept into the locker room, "Gentlemen prepare to launch your rockets, 10-9 -8-7 ...," Darrie pushed a button on her notepad. The clang of the plastic covers falling to the ground followed. While I collected the fallen shields, Darry declared, "Fun time! Examination of the genitalia."When she reached Mr.Flesher who managed to conceal himself at the end of the line, he was shaking; his fair skin was burnished red. In a soothing voice, Darry assured Flesher, "There's no shame in a natural reaction to physical contact with a female during a genital examination."Hushing the other men, Darrie sent them into the shower, noting, "Go take care of what you came here to do."As the other men filtered out into the shower, Darrie called me over. "Mr.Flesher," she addressed him, maintaining eye contact, "Let me introduce Amy Warbler, our new Nursing Assistant. I need to report to Dr. Velour our boss that Nurse Warbler is fully capable of conducting exams on her own. Can you help me teach our Nurse Warbler the art of an intimate examination? It'll only take a sec. Then you can get hitched to the hitching post for release. That's what you came here for, right?"In practicing with Jerry, I pronounced, "Fourth, inspect the scrotum. Hmm," I interjected, "I get to keep hold of your joystick. Moving the penis out of the way, inspect all sides of the scrotum. Lift the scrotum to check its underside."In the locker, Darrie thanked Mr.Flesher, "Good! My examination will only take a couple more minutes before you're on your way to the hitching post, release and ecstasy."In my dry run with Jerry, I reached the Fifth stage "palpating," I interjected, "that's an inflated medical term for examining by touch, the testicles.""Inflated? That's an interesting word. Sounds like fun," Jerry's laughter went into the falsetto range when I pinched a testicle."With my thumbs and index fingers," I explained, "I roll the testes between the fingers to detect potential abnormalities. Feel along the duct work, the epididymis tube and the duct deferens which deliver the sperm for ejaculation.""Go easy," Jerry's voice ventured into the falsetto range."That wasn't so bad. Your examination is over," I advised Jerry, "You're free to have fun. Thank you for being such a good boy," I patted his tush, "for behaving yourself and cooperating." I turned my back on Jerry to take off my gloves and drop them in the bathroom."Free!" Jerry exclaimed. When I felt his hands gripping me. Lifted off my feet, I felt the pj bottoms slide away. Bent at the waist, I heard Jerry yell "I don't have to be good, no more, but it will be good."In the locker, Darrie concluded Flesher's examination. "Not so bad, was it? You passed your exam with flying colors," Darrie counselled Mr. Flesher, "You're dangling free. Go have fun with it!" As Flesher walked away, Dearie whispered, "never turn your back on a released donor."At home, Jerry exclaimed, "Time for fun." A wild expression cropped on his face. "The pump's been primed, the torrents will flow." I felt the warmth of his body nestle between the half-moons of my ass while his nimble fingers separated my vaginal lips. Then he hesitated."Go ahead. Fuck me." I ordered Jerry. Tease, denial and release, I wondered as I gasped when Jerry penetrated, was that the magic?Chapter 5: Nature of the AttractionIn my senior year in college, I worked several hours in the early morning before classes in a fertility clinic. It was part of my internship toward my degree in Industrial Psychology. In my rotation as a student intern in the clinic, I, through study and practical training, had earned a promotion out of maintenance into the Nursing Department as an assistant.Smart in her white lab coat and dark dress, Dr. Velour introduced the study to three nursing assistant candidates gathered in her office."We start our study with the male body because it is less complex, designed for an important, but momentary role in reproduction," Dr. Velour's word brought a ripple of giggling to the motley group of prospective nursing assistants."This is a business," Dr. Velour expounded, "We have to recruit livestock, groom their bodies, generate interest in purchasers, draw and refine the product and sell it. Initially, our question in dealing with the men, is what makes a man want to `bind his loins' in a cock-blocker, hitch his penis to a machine and discharge his seed into a hitching post? The answer at least initially is curiosity."I chuckled. Ever since I obtained this internship, my husband Jerry has beseeched me to sneak him in to test his equipment. Didn't I put out enough? I lay crunched up like a pretzel, hands bound behind my back with my bra, complaints squelched with panties in my mouth too often to think differently.It was hard to think of Jerry tied docilely to a hitching post at the Clinic to be jerked off. For foreplay, Jerry preferred wrestling me to the ground. Taken by surprise, forced face down, with Jerry strong hands tugging at the waistband of my jeans, I'd spur Jerry on by pleading, "Don't rip my clothes, Jerry. I don't get paid till next week."Was Jerry jealous or afraid my job involved physical contact with other men? No, Jerry was so curious so much so he wanted me to reenact the protocols in sperm extraction."You come to the clinic through different pathways, bringing different experiences to the study. Dr. Velour looked from student to student, "we have Amy, here, a student in Industrial Psychology at the local college. Perhaps with Amy's background in Industrial Psychology, she will develop a clearer idea the motivation of the persons involved in the people involved in the donation process. Amy?""My ugh-experience tells me curiosity is a good hypothesis," I replied. The room filled with chuckling, "Men are always looking for a new spot to anchor their spar in."When the laughter subsided, Dr. Velour pointed out a girl with muscular forearms and legs, "Next, we have Cassie. She's a gymnast who has been working in the gym; Pat," Dr. Velour pointed out a college girl like me, "a participant in our experiment in inducing the mammary glands to produce milk; and Beth," Dr. Velour pointed to a woman in her mid-thirties, "a surrogate.""Regardless of sex, however," Dr. Velour continued, "the brain is the largest sex organ. Oh, the body reacts to physical stimulation and once aroused can control the mind, but the mind creates the expectations in given situations.""Thus, because male body's function in reproduction is limited," Dr. Velour ex

Luke Milliron discusses the growing list of problems with the Monterey almond variety in the northern Sacramento Valley. Leafing failure (what is it) Leafing failure (what might be causing it) Flowering failure Come to an upcoming extension meeting!Sacramento Valley San Joaquin Valley (scroll to the bottom) The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed are the speaker's own and do not represent the views, thoughts, and opinions of the University of California. The material and information presented here is for general information purposes only. The "University of California" name and all forms and abbreviations are the property of its owner and its use does not imply endorsement of or opposition to any specific organization, product, or service.Follow us on Twitter! @SacOrchards and @SJVtandvThank you to the Almond, Pistachio, Prune, and Walnut Boards of California for their kind donations. Thank you to Muriel Gordon for the music.Mention of an agrichemical does not constitute a recommendation, merely the sharing of research findings. Always follow the label. The label is law. Find out more at ipm.ucanr.edu.

Gurdeep takes you through his 5 stages of ‘Leafing' (Leafs grieving) ...AND... Pooja tries to convince the room she's now a runner, but the gang has questions!

In this replay episode of Growing in the Green Industry, we welcome Matthew Ross, Director of Continuing Education at Longwood Gardens. The hosts get back to their horticultural roots, as Matthew talks about the history of public gardens, the importance of connecting people to the natural environment, and the horticultural and educational opportunities Longwood Gardens provides for the public. Matthew provides a unique perspective, as a horticulturist, educator, and photographer, and as someone who is passionate about bringing people together through their shared love of plants. This episode is hosted by Miles Kuperus, Neal Glatt of GrowTheBench, Luke Melograno at Mariani Landscape, and Macey Robinson at LandCare.

We have a *very* special Playoff edition of Too Many Men as Sara and Shayna anchor today's show! They're here with all your favorite show segments covering this NHL postseason. Plus, an 'on-the-road' appearance from Alison and our special guest Piper Shaw as they breakdown the Kraken-Stars series and more! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We have a *very* special Playoff edition of Too Many Men as Sara and Shayna anchor today's show! They're here with all your favorite show segments covering this NHL postseason. Plus, an 'on-the-road' appearance from Alison and our special guest Piper Shaw as they breakdown the Kraken-Stars series and more! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We have a *very* special Playoff edition of Too Many Men as Sara and Shayna anchor today's show! They're here with all your favorite show segments covering this NHL postseason. Plus, an 'on-the-road' appearance from Alison and our special guest Piper Shaw as they breakdown the Kraken-Stars series and more! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It is a rare occation when the author of cult books such as American Psycho and The Rules of Attraction releases his first novel in 13 years. For readers of Bret Easton Ellis's earlier books, The Shards has a familiar atmosphere, and he doesn't shy away from explicit descriptions of sex or violence.We are in early 80s LA, and the main character, Bret Ellis, is 17 and a senior at the prestigious private school Buckley. A charming new student in class challenges Bret's attempt to hide his attraction to men.But something darks lurks beneath the glossy surface. The story is told by a now middle aged Bret revisiting the fatal senior year when a serial killer appeared in LA. Leafing through his old yearbook, he notices the five classmates that are missing.Ellis likes to provoke, both in fiction and in public debate. The Shards is no exception. First published in serial format on Ellis's own podcast, the story is passed off as a memoir based on Ellis's own experiences, much like the earlier Lunar Park. As the serial killer moves ever closer to Bret's circle, the book also describes Bret's sexual and literary awakening, making it as much a story of the author's journey into writing.When Ellis visits the House of Literature for the first time, he is joined on stage by Emma Clare Gabrielsen. She has worked for many years as a journalist in Natt & Dag, DN and Norwegian broadcasting NRK, where her documentary on pedophiles earned her nominations for both Norway's premier journalist prize and Prix Europe's "European Journalist of the Year". Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

This week hosts Gar @TheRealDeFo the GarFather @26MikeRedmond and special guest DenBob @dbosco30 discuss hangover remedies, what we're thankful for, movie lists (Thanksgiving, Grossing, Expensive), regular guys, what we're watching, the world cup & other sports, with some amazing listener feedback, and much, much more!! Join the GarNation family on Discord -> https://discord.gg/9XPx7rBynS Find all our closing music in a play list on Spotify! The GarParel store is now open. Go to cafepress.com/garcast You can contact the GarCast by any of the following ways via Linktree Email thegarcast@gmail.com If you want, you can send us a voice message by following this link https://anchor.fm/garcast/message Intro Music Dead To The World by Clyde YouTube Video Here Closing Music is Intergalactic Performed by Beastie Boys FRIENDS OF THE SHOW What's the PHDeal? Podcast on iTunes, Spotify, etc Be sure to check out Clyde on Facebook Check out music from Men And Whales -> https://menandwhales.com/ --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/garcast/message

The Traditions - "The Wind" - 7" 45 [0:00:00] Music behind DJ: J.B. & the V-Kings - "Lazy Soul" - 7" 45 [0:01:51] Barrett Strong - "Misery" - 7" 45 [0:03:19] Al McCarther - "His True Love For You" - 7" 45 [0:05:46] Frankie & The Damons - "Man From Soul" - 7" 45 [0:08:41] The Cliffhangers - "Since You've Gone Away" - 7" 45 [0:10:13] The Titans with Roy and Sonny - "Lonesome Mood" - 7" 45 [0:13:14] The Intentions - "Don't Forget That I Love You" - 7" 45 [0:15:26] Music behind DJ: The Mark II - "Dead" - 7" 45 [0:18:17] Lezli Valentine - "I Won't Do Anything" - 7" 45 [0:21:42] The Sherrell Bros. - "The Price" - 7" 45 [0:24:11] Mamie Perry With Gus Jenkins Orchestra - "Lament" - 7" 45 [0:27:01] Tony Daniels - "I Won't Cry" - 7" 45 [0:29:35] Al Wiliams - "Try Them" - 7" 45 [orig. unreleased] [0:31:26] Cheryl Thompson - "Black Night" - 7" 45 [0:33:38] The Appreciations - "It's Better To Cry" - 7" 45 [0:35:35] The Dynamics - "I'm A Lonely Man" - 7" 45 [0:38:44] The Captions - "Turn Out The Lights" - 7" 45 [0:41:22] Music behind DJ: Rex Davis And Three - "Greedy Gert" - 7" 45 [0:44:32] Soul Superiors Featuring Sherman Willis, Vocal - "Trust In Me Baby" - 7" 45 [0:48:32] Dimas III - "So Funny" - 7" 45 [0:52:22] September Jones - "I'm Coming Home" - 7" 45 [0:53:51] The Utopians - "Along My Lonely Way" - 7" 45 [0:56:25] Music behind DJ: Orpheus Four - "Caverns" - 7" 45 [0:58:27] https://www.wfmu.org/playlists/shows/121282

Wendy does her best to understand her friend John Welles through the daily digital diary he's been keeping.This episode may best be enjoyed with its transcript.---Created by Martin Austwick, with help from Jeff Emtman.With thanks to Tim McSmythurs, Dave Pickering and Lily Sloane.Find us at neutrino.watch and @neutrinowatch on twitterTranscript available at: https://www.dropbox.com/s/ov3ggamee835tzt/You%20can%20really%20get%20to%20know%20someone%20by%20leafing%20through%20their%20diary%20%5BAlmanac%5D_transcript.txt?dl=0

Date: 638/2/2732 Patient: Rana [spiky cloud, teeth]. Neritopod Patient ID: 27466591 Presenting Complaint: Egg check and vaccinations  It's completely biologically appropriate. Still weird, though. __________________________________________________________ (Stay safe! Please see the end of the episode description for content warnings for this episode!)  The Vesta Clinic was created by AMC. This episode features AMC as Faye Underwood, Kamen Cooley-Greene as Dakarai Solari and Ruby Campbell as Xaelest Adra. Music by AMC and Ruby Campbell.  Credits read by Kamen Cooley-Greene.     Transcripts are available at https://www.thevestaclinic.com/episodes   Please consider supporting us on Patreon! The bonus story for this episode is called ‘Did You Pack Your Shell Or Did Somebody Pack It For You?l' and is available at https://www.patreon.com/vestaclinicpod    You can also find us on social media on twitter, tumblr and instagram at @vestaclincpod!    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Sound Effect Attributions:Spaceship compartment door.With pneumatics(8lrs,mltprcssng).wav by newlocknew at Freesound.org Typing metal plate(reson,rev,DTBlkfx,Eq,Extr,sat,dcmtr)12.wav by newlocknew at Freesound.org Leafing through papers by lawnjelly at Freesound.org Connect2 by RICHERIandTV at Freesound.org Critical Stop4  by RICHERIandTV at Freesound.org Content Warnings: Abortion equivalent in a non-human species; embryonic death in a non-human species; adoption; infidelity; difficult parent-child relationships

Join Nick and Meg as they explore the world of hunting for fall foliage in northern Minnesota. Music by: Asylum Music & Media Works www.headingnorthpodcast.com Facebook | Instagram | TikTok : @headingnorthpodcast Twitter: @headingnorthpod Patreon.com/headingnorthpodcast --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/headingnorth/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/headingnorth/support

Retired horticulturalist Dave Decock answers questions from KFGO listeners about their lawns, gardens, trees, pests and more. In this episode - Dave details how our unusually wet Spring has caused trees to over-leaf and seeing some dead or fallen leaves mid summer isn't a reason to panic. Holes in the leaves on a rose bush - some insight into what might be happening. Plus, some tips on watering to avoid tomato blight! See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

I'm going to say it—a book is better than a phone.    Stop me if you've heard this: A guy is walking his dog right beside a very busy road and he almost dies because he's staring straight into, wait for it . . . a book!    You were expecting it to be his phone, right?    If you're going to risk your life, at least do it for the printed word. We might tell ourselves there's no difference between reading on paper and reading on a screen. But as Dr. Martin Tobin writes, “Our eyes lie to us.”  “Cognitive scientists have discovered that reading is not only a visual activity, but also a bodily activity,” Tobin writes. “A book is a physical object . . . you see and feel the texture of its pages. Leafing back and forth provides a mental map of the entire text, aiding comprehension …and recall.”    And, of course, when we read a book, we're not tempted to check email, voicemail, Facebook, texts, and on and on.    So put down the phone. Grab a real book. But avoid traffic when you do so.   

Greased by underlings, his head rests under the rock of experience.

Contact Edwin at 714-300-9566 or visit https://www.vtouchstudio.comIf it were five years in the future, would you be reading this article or would you be watching it? As online video continues its inimitable rise, it's an interesting question to ponder.By 2017, video will account for 69% of all consumer internet traffic, according to Cisco. Video-on-demand traffic alone will have almost trebled. Leafing through a swathe of statistics on the subject, I'm hard pressed to find any indicator that doesn't suggest rapid growth.With online video quickly becoming a key means for people to satisfy their information and entertainment needs, small businesses that fail to include it in their internet marketing strategies will do so at their peril.Video is the future of content marketing. That is, if it's not the here and now. Various studies show more than half of companies are already making use of the medium – a figure that's predicted to rise as more and more realize the possibilities. Nielsen claims 64% of marketers expect video to dominate their strategies in the near future. It's not difficult to see why.When it comes to potential reach, video is peerless. YouTube receives more than one billion unique visitors every month – that's more than any other channel, apart from Facebook. One in three Britons view at least one online video a week – that's a weekly audience of more than 20 million people in the UK alone. Video can give you access to all this. Video done well can give you a slice of it. What other form of content can do the same?VTouch Studio are professional video content marketing creators to help you with your:* YouTube video content* Video content marketing strategy* Lead gen and sales funnel systems using video content* Branding strategies with video contentPlease subscribe to my YouTube channelContact Edwin at 714-300-9566 or visit https://www.vtouchstudio.com

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Aside from the beginning of this episode where it is AGAIN, me solo in the studio… this week's episode is fantastic. I am always more… The post Volume 7, Episode 32 – MadTree Knows Their Roots And How To Branch Out Leafing No Doubt To What This Is All About appeared first on The Gnarly Gnome.

Exploring their physical function in manuscripts – and the bad things that can happen when they are removed for study – as well as showing what they can contribute to book history. Leafing through a manuscript, it's easy to ignore the fragments of other books that were often used to strengthen its binding or as endleaves to protect the beginning and end of the text. In this session the fragments are the focus. Manuscripts: MS. Lat. th. c. 10 – Guardbook of fragments. (https://medieval.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/catalog/manuscript_6695) MS. Hamilton 13 – Summa theologiae, Secunda Secundae, by Thomas Aquinas (1225 – 1274) originating in Erfurt, Germany. With fragments of Dante, Monarchia, with the commentary attributed to Cola di Rienzo. (https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/objects/641872ca-263b-41f6-b844-69ff6281bdf8/) MS. Laud Misc. 306 – Homiliary and sermons, 12th century, originating in Germany. (https://digital.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/objects/b2fb86ae-c8cd-4738-aa37-0a7d3e3ab0cc/surfaces/a86e86c7-e22b-4010-97a1-f7ab105e5abf/) MS. Douce 55 – cookery book in English, 15th century (https://medieval.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/catalog/manuscript_4726)

Today on Fly On The Call I'm talking to Leafing, a mathy emo band from Brooklyn. At the start of 2021, they released their debut full-length, which came together during the early stages of the pandemic. While the band had played a couple of shows before things ground to a halt, the album was created together in isolation with the members forced to adapt and learn how to share ideas and create a cohesive work of art without being physically in the same space. This dual creative constriction/freedom clearly paid off because not only did they make a great record, they also wrote a large portion of another. Tune in to hear all about it! Leafing: Spotify | Instagram | Bandcamp Fly On The Call is brought to you by Sound Talent Media and promoted in conjunction with The Alternative. Artwork by Mikaela Jane. Theme song by Kailynn West of Tiny Stills. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In this episode of Growing in the Green Industry, we welcome Matthew Ross, Director of Continuing Education at Longwood Gardens. The hosts get back to their horticultural roots, as Matthew talks about the history of public gardens, the importance of connecting people to the natural environment, and the horticultural and educational opportunities Longwood Gardens provides for the public. Matthew provides a unique perspective, as a horticulturist, educator, and photographer, and as someone who is passionate about bringing people together through their shared love of plants. This episode is hosted by Miles Kuperus, System Architect at Include Software, and Neal Glatt, Managing Partner of GrowTheBench, Luke Melograno, Production Coordinator at Mariani Landscape, and Macey Wollenberg, Branch Manager at LandCare.

Jonny and Joel explore powder snow and copper changes the latest Caves & Cliffs snapshot, share listener emails in response to the modern pace of Minecraft, and uproot some thoughts about the new lush cave decorative blocks.

Listen to this article from West Coast Nut by contributing writer Vicky Boyd.

In 1943 at the age of 8, Joe won an American Webster's dictionary in an 80 yards sprint race in his hometown of Bolton. This was the dictionary where Joe was to find the word Reebok (the American spelling), in 1960. If he had won an English Dictionary, he would have found the word spelled, Rhebok. Joe and his late brother Jeff were born into the J W Foster & family business, but on their return after 2 years away from home on National Service, they asked questions about the future. The year was 1955 and the brothers saw a business still rooted in the 1930s. Their father and uncle were now operating the business and very much like another sport shoe company (Adidas), spent more time feuding than collaborating. The result was that in 1958 Joe and Jeff left the Foster business to set up their own business. Six miles down the road in the next town, Bury, the brothers founded "Mercury Sports Footwear", which after 18 months they changed its name to 'Reebok'. Joe had been advised to protect their company’s name by registering it. Finding the word Mercury was registered by another company started the search for a new name and one source was Joe's Webster's dictionary. Leafing through for inspiration Joe came across grey rhebok, a small South African antelope, this sounded just right and was free to register. The Reebok business developed with Jeff looking after production, Joe took charge of the sales and marketing side, as well as design which included the classic silhouette, outsole, and the Starcrest.  In this episode, Brad identifies how Joe Foster very well may have invented “Influencer Marketing” back in 1982 and leveraged it to Billions, building a global brand in Reebok that he eventually exited some 10 years ago. Now spending time in France awaiting a trip back to his home country of the U.K. Joe Foster is still smart as a whip and knows what it takes to help products sell at scale.

Luke Milliron, UCANR Orchard Systems Advisor

Jimmy Nichols, Farm Manager of Nichols Farms in Hanford

Phoebe and Luke discuss walnut, prune, almond and pistachio tasks for May, as well as reports of leafing failure issues in almond, pistachio, and walnut.Montery leafing failure observations: sacvalleyorchards.com/almonds/cultivars-rootstocks/monterey-and-the-leafing-failure-2020-what-are-we-seeing/What might be causing leafing failure in Monterey? sacvalleyorchards.com/almonds/cultivars-rootstocks/monterey-leafing-failure-what-could-cause/Information on thinning prunes: sacvalleyorchards.com/prunes/horticulture-prunes/thinning-prunes/ and a prune thinning calculator: sacvalleyorchards.com/prunes/horticulture-prunes/prune-thinning-calculator/The one-minute challenge discussion serves for informational purposes only and is not a pesticide or management recommendation. Find out more at ipm.ucanr.edu/.This is a UC ANR educational podcast. Any opinions or positions taken are those of the hosts and not the University of California. Use of this platform for and any advertisements connected with this podcast do not imply endorsement.Thank you to the Almond Board of California and the California Pistachio Research Board for their kind donations. Thank you to Muriel Gordon for the music.

It won’t be long before you’ll get up one morning, look out the window, and exclaim: “Spring is finally here, the trees are starting to leaf-out.” Well, not so fast! They’re actually flowering. Leafing-out will come later.

Every day Julie writes in her journal from her Manhattan apartment. Leafing back through it tells the story of how masks started taking over the city, before bars started closing down and the streets became empty. From her 350 sqft (32 sq m) apartment, Julie chats openly about how to social distance responsibly, the response of the state of New York vs that of the country, and how the crisis made the relative privilege of so many of us so apparent. A great conversation for episode 20 of Quarantine Dailies. Ping us at podcast@j24d.com to suggest who we should interview next. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/j24d/message

New York-based artist Michelle Sakhai painted landscapes in oil for many years. She mostly created her paintings outside, in the method of plein aire painters. She started adding metal leafing to her paintings to show light, and before she knew it, the leafing had taken over her artwork. She now uses oils and leafing to make beautiful abstract expressionist art. The Show Notes and links for all my episodes can be found at https://suzanneredmond.com/my-podcast/list-of-artists/

Closet Conversations is live every Monday morning at 8:30 AM on Facebook Live!

With more stories coming out about Mike Babcock and with Marc Crawford suspended, we discuss where is the line for coaches? A code of conduct for coaches is in the works. The Oilers are battling through injury to stay atop the Pacific and the Leafs are treading water under Sheldon Keefe.  Get your ScuttlePuck swag: www.cafepress.com/scuttlepuck Listen Here:  iTunes  Google Play  Stitcher  Direct MP3   iHeart Radio Banter: Belleville Sens are improving despite low crowds Check out @PuckDuty Title Player - Andres Athanasiou Marc Crawford suspended until investigation into allegations completed Akim Aliu meets with Gary Bettman and Bill Daly Elliotte Friedman reporting that NHL will implement code of conduct for coaches Where is the line for coaches drawn now? Taylor Hall being shopped actively and lots of talk of him going to Edmonton The NBA came out with radical schedule proposal - should the NHL do something different Betting Update Leafs update - looked better for a few games, but tapered off Oilers update - just holding on as 5 on 5 play without McDavid continues to be an issue Hot / Not -  MILESTONES DOPeS - Evander Kane and Ryan Johansen get parking tickets Rathole Intro/Outro Music Artist: Incubus Song: Make a Move

Tomathy: Just in time, 5 to 6. (sniff) Oh dear, smell of the chandler’s wax about this place Holmes. Holmes: Yis have a sensitive snorkle there Mr Tomathy. Tash: (Apprehensive) Yeees? We’re just about to shut up shop for the evening you know, can I help you gentlemen? Are you buying for yourself or a loved one today? Holmes: Look at the slimey combed head on that lad. Tomathy: Ah! Good evening to you Mr. Tash. We’re in the hunt for a good old pair of ladies slippers! Tash: For your good lady Sir? Tomathay: Something like that… What’s in stock? Holmes: (Reads) Ladies-personal-underclothes, made-in-our-own-factory, hah? That’s quaren good now. Tash: Well Sir, for the present summer season we have everything you need sir. Tomathy: Well, come to think of it, we are looking for a special type, that right Holmes? Holmes: Hah? Tomathy: A purple velvet slipper set Holmes yes? That’s it isn’t it? Yes, yes, I think it is… Tash: Purple velvet slippers you say? Tomathy: Yes, I believe I did. Tash: No. Tomathy: Excuse me? Tash: All gone. Holmes: Gone? Who’s gone? Tash: There are no velvet slippers in this shop sir. Tomathy: Ah, that’s, that’s a real pity Mr. Tash, I was hoping awfully if you could assist us in this most pressing matter. Holmes: You! Come here to me… Tash: Me sir? Holmes: Looka, we’re on a mission. Have to find the purple velvet slipperses. Y’understand? Tash:     Are you alright sir? I said I have none. We’re completely out. And to be frankly honest with you sir, I’m surprised you ask. Holmes: You’re fuckin’ surprised??? Get on outta that now… You have the look of a right ‘lad’ now, fairs to God with the little black creamy comb over. Tash: I beg your pardon Sir? Holmes: What’s he sayin’ to me? Tomathy: I think, Mr Tash, what my good friend here is trying to impress upon your good nature is that he’s surprised that you are surprised. Why so Mr. Tash? Holmes: Wha are you hidin’? Tash: Well, I’m surprised that you ask about the slippers because, well… yes, b-because of the police and- Holmes: The po-leese? Tomathy: Oh yes, have they been here? Tash: Noooo. No policeman here. No, they ignored me all together! They went to Betty’s and God bless her she hasn’t two brain cells to rub together. Just because Constable Riordan fancies her! … I presume we’re all talking about the murder of the young females now yes? Holmes: Bloodery slippery bastard!! I’d quaren choke him so I would. Tomathy: So what about it old chap? Purple velvet slippers, size 5, square toe, round heel with an oriental floral design? Tash: Hmm, so, you and your friend here are infatuated by Jim the Slipper? Seeking out the slippers of the dead females for some sexual thrill are you? Tomathy: Good God sir! No, no, we’re concerned as citizens that the police aren’t particularly interested in catching this brute what with the war and all that, too busy trying to avoid a bullet in the head I suspect… so- Tash: Please sir. Shhh. (Whispers) You are in the right place sir! Tomathy: What? I say, maybe you have got the wrong end of the- Tash: Velvet slippers uh-huh, uh-huh, right? Right? I get you… Tomathy: You ‘get me’? Tash: Oh yes sir. Tomathy: Sorry Mr. Tash, ‘slippering’ I didn’t quite?- Tash: (Getting excited) Excellent! Keeping it tight! Very good sir. I love it.Tomathy: No I think you have- Tash: I see what you need! Holmes: Akskskskskskshhh Tomathy: No, I think we’re getting- Tash: Because a good technique is essential! Tomathy: -off topic somewhat here- Tash: The slipper can be administered in the so-called traditional over knee position or, Tomathy: Mr Tash I- Tash: Usually for older recipients, bending over an item of furniture- (Whips slipper through air) Holmes: Handy to know. Tash: This could deliver a very painful stroke, Tomathy: Mr Tash I- Tash: -depending on the force with which it was used, a size 11, well-worn, flexible slipper would deliver more sting than one that was new and stiff. Typically this would involve two or three quick, sharp swats across the seat of the offender's parts. Holmes: He’s gettin’ into this! Tash: The velvet slipper is the very best for a slippering. Six powerful strokes of the slipper! Buttocks! Buttocks! Lightly bruised for days! Providing a further reminder each time he sat down!!! Oh yessss… Holmes: Ah here… Tomathy: Mr Tash! Mr Tash! We are NOT here to indulge you in your FANTASIES of tanning human hide, we are here seeking information on Jim the Slipper’s calling card; the purple velvet slipper! Tash: Oh, oh my… Holmes: Well said Tomathy Wilson! That shook ‘im. Tash: I completely misread the situation. I-I- Tomathy: Please take your hand from there before you be-shit yourself, Tash: I’m most terribly sorry… Tomathy: Better use it to flick through your sales book there.Tash: Yes, the ledger… Tomathy: Over the summer. Tash: Certainly sir! Tomathy: What purchases have been made for a size 5 purple oriental square-toed slipper! Tash: Yes, sorry sirs, em… (Leafing through the sales ledger) Tomathy: I mean Holmes… really… have you ever seen the like of it before? Holmes: Excuse me – (Hinge bread basket opens)  Tash: Em, what I read in the Examiner, the one you seek is probably English made, around the 1895/turn-of-the-century mark. Eh, 12, 13 no 14 shillings! That’s it. Tomathy: And? Tash: Eh, no, I can’t, there’s, no, I can’t see any large purchases for the slipper style you speak of sir. Tomathy: Are you sure there’s nothing there Mr. Tash? Holmes: Sorry, I’m back now, what did I miss? Tash: Sorry sir, nothing. Holmes: Hah? Tomathy: Well he says there’s nothing in the books about buying any purple slippers! Bugger it to hell! Holmes:               Better off going to the cinema to see Mary Pickford after all. Tomathy: Anything? Anything at all? The devil is always in the detail you know! Tash: Wait, did you say Mary Pickford? Holmes: Ah sure jayzus imagine what sort of eegit buys twenty pairs of slippers anyway?? Hah? Now they’d have to be mad in the Head. Mad as a bag of squirrels! Akskskskshhh! Tomathy: Holmes? Holmes? Holmes: Hah? Tash: You said Mary Pickford.Holmes: You likes her too?? She’s quaren gorgeous. Oh, sticks the sweet toe right inside the slipper… oooh. Tash: It’s funny but, my best customer’s a huge Mary Pickford fan. Tomathy: Really? Tash: She never stopped going on about her. Tomathy: Does she buy slippers? Tash: No, that’s the thing, she was always in for girdles, garters and gussets but never got a slipper from me this year, But- Tomathy:But what? Tash: She was the last one to buy large amounts of slipper here, early last year though! Tomathy: Good lord WHAT? Tash: (Sigh) But, she won’t be coming here anymore. Holmes: I’m not surprised with you rubbin’ up behind the counter on about the slaps all day! Tomathy: Why does this woman not come here anymore Mr. Tash? Tash: Well, because she’s been locked away up in the City Mental Reservation. Holmes: Eh, excuse me… (Hinge of bread basket) Tomathy: Who is this woman? What happened to her? Why was she buying large amounts of slippers? For herself? Tash: Oh poor Mrs Brindle, such a shame. She had so much going for. Ah I sorely miss her custom. (Holmes shouting angrily at his box) Tash: Seems she went mad from her teenage son being wrongly imprisoned from stealing down at the docks. Had a nervous breakdown. Poor wretch. Tomathy: Did you hear that Holmes? Holmes? Holmes, where are you? Holmes: Hello. Tomathy: Oh! There you are. Listen, I think we may have something Holmes. It’s a long shot but seems a Mrs. Brindle was locked up in the loony bin because of a son, and she loved Mary Pickford too- Holmes: I want to speak to her! Tomathy: Yes. My thoughts exactly, we should speak to her. Why Holmes that might just be it! Holmes: We need to see her! Tomathy: You think NOW? Tash: That would be difficult… Holmes: Excuse me… Tash: Why does he walk off like that? Tomathy: To think things through in peace. He’s a genius. Tash: He looks like something different alright. Tomathy: He’s from the capital. Holmes: I said NO! WE GO! (Hinge of basket slamming shut) Tomathy: Love watching him work. Amazing. Tash: Is he some sort of detective?Holmes: Tomathy Wilson, take me to the City Mental Reservation. We must see Mrs Brindle! It’s our new mission! Tomathy: I like your style Aubrey. Mr Tash, you’ve been enormous help but please, next time, keep the spanking to yourself. Tash: Oh I will… Good luck to you sirs! Holmes: Arrghgh! Get these hob goblins out of me head!!! (Plastic things falling and ripping cloth) Tomathy: Careful Holmes… you’ll knock over the mannequins! Holmes: Ah attacked by bloomerses! Ah tickles! Akskskshshkskshsh! Tash: Keep it, keep it, it’s yours! (Door Closes) Holmes: Fuck’s sake. Mental Holmes I is an Amplevoicepod ear-film. Time to travel to Cork, Ireland in 1922 and meet a mysterious man clutching a wooden lunch-box to his ear. There’s been a murder. Attorney-at-law Tomathy Wilson fancies his detection delectation to identify the perpetrator and sow it all up. Until he sees a man with a wooden lunchbox wearing Tomathy's best suit (stolen off his washing line), at the scene of the crime! From there on in, things begin to unwittingly unravel via a variety of clues left by Stanton Pulvertuft, Eleanora Wilson, Mr. Tash at 'Ladies Underclothing', Seamus Byrnie and Mrs Brindle. Come hither 'til we enter the world of the 'Gerbil' and fling open the doors of 'Mental Holmes'. Don’t forget to bring the hang sangidges! The weird & winning, 72 minute audio adventure podcast that redefines how special podcasts can be… Amplevoicepod make ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. Amplevoicepod is the Voice of Pod, we can't just sit around a microphone and talk about the latest cultural thing on our minds! Oh no! We exist in glorious isolation, bringing you unique and original stories with our shows. It's big, it's bold, it's podcasting done right.

We knew the Trevenant Gang was trouble, but we didn’t know they’d make it double! These guys are thoroughly messed up. In the fight, we’re not sure what’s crossfire and what’s a target, but we know we’re gonna come out swingin’! It gets a little icky, but you had to know that was going to happen, right? Anyway, hopefully we can get to the bottom of it, and it’s not just a big cesspool of nasty. But things never go that well for us….The cast:Chartreuse (Charlie) Pine - played by PaulLillianna Shadowgarden - played by LydiaProfessor Rudimentus Sneaze - played by MichaelAnd our Game Master - NickEyeli - EyeliJoin our Facebook Group, where you can meet and chat with the cast and other fans! We'll approve everyone's request to join (unless you're a Rotom; we don't like Rotom). Also, join us on Discord! And watch us on Twitch!Donate to our Patreon, and earn sweet rewards by becoming a part of the Pokemon Rollout! family.MUSIC & SFX:Theme Music "Electric Donkey Muscles" by RoccoW. Used under an Attribution-ShareAlike License.“We Can Do It [Loop]” by Visager. Used under an Attribution License.“Mount Fuji” by Bio Unit. Used under an Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License.“Downfall” by Kai Engel. Used under an Attribution-NonCommercial License.“Bipolarity” by Poor Alexei. Used under an Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.Cover art by @duskwolfdesign

Leafing through Christmas catalogues is a time-honoured tradition for many Canadian children.But how did the tradition start? This week our hosts are join by special guest Joanne Schofield as they notice the history of the Christmas catalogue in Canada.Notice History is the official podcast of Know History, a historical research company based in Ottawa. Visit our website at knowhistory.ca/podcast, or follow us on Twitter and Instagram @NoticeHistory

We’ve returned with the back half of our fourth and final season. And if something feels oddly familiar about this week’s batch of stories… it’s because we watched this episode in the past and recorded an unreleased episode as a test pilot. And as a bonus, we will be releasing the pilot episode this Thursday … Read More Read More

Leafing through the University of Connecticut’s extensive spring offerings, one course jumps out: “Horticulture of Cannabis: From Seed to Harvest,” taught by Professor Gerald A. Berkowitz and former graduate student Matt DeBacco. It might be the first class in the country to teach students how to grow marijuana for college credit. That’s not all: Berkowitz says the class will prepare UConn students for careers in the expanding cannabis industry. "There's going to be more students taught in this one class than in my department, all the professors, all the classes they teach, both semesters,” Berkowitz said. “We're teaching the course in the largest lecture hall at the university, with over 400 seats. We ran out of seats before half of the university could register for the course." Berkowitz takes Capitol Watch inside the coursework, and graduate student Peter Apicella brings us on a tour of a campus grow house.

9/6/17

We shadowed Max Grinnell, aka the Urbanologist, as he researched Chicago's Dill Pickle Club in our Special Collections Reading Room. Leafing through photos, handbills, and brochures, Max discusses the "unsanctioned space" that the bohemian group carved out for itself, and how the fate of the Dill Pickle and other urban vestiges speaks to a complicated cycle of rebirth and renewal in Chicago. (Intro music: "Two Types of Awakenings" by Nheap)

Coming up this week on WTF, Chris doesn't have a problem with anything, IHW kicked off it's 2nd half of the TV Season this past weekend, Chris and I look back at this weekend's WrestleMania and just like ECW, Langille is Living Dangerously. Follow us on Twitter: @rschriscole @langille @whatsthefinish

Coming up this week on WTF, Chris doesn't have a problem with anything, IHW kicked off it's 2nd half of the TV Season this past weekend, Chris and I look back at this weekend's WrestleMania and just like ECW, Langille is Living Dangerously. Follow us on Twitter: @rschriscole @langille @whatsthefinish

Running short of fresh air? Take a leaf out of Julian Melchiori's book and fashion yourself some photosynthesising silk! We also have an update on the Ebola outbreak in West Africa, and how the world is responding to this deadly virus.

The antioxidant properties of green tea have lead many researchers to investigate its potential as an anti-aging ingredient, both for topical application and as a supplement. However, a new study suggests this might not be the miracle extract the world has been waiting for.

The antioxidant properties of green tea have lead many researchers to investigate its potential as an anti-aging ingredient, both for topical application and as a supplement. However, a new study suggests this might not be the miracle extract the world has been waiting for.

The antioxidant properties of green tea have lead many researchers to investigate its potential as an anti-aging ingredient, both for topical application and as a supplement. However, a new study suggests this might not be the miracle extract the world has been waiting for.