Podcasts about maaaan

No Excuses: Time for the Bengals to Spend Big!The NFL just announced a major salary cap increase, and the Bengals have no reason to hold back this offseason. I'm joined by Maaaan from Bengals Pulse to break down what this means for Cincinnati's roster moves. Will they finally spend big in free agency? Who should they target to maximize Joe Burrow's prime? We dive into all the possibilities and what fans should expect. Don't miss this one!

Maaaan...do we have a lot to talk about this week! Reacting to the biggest moves from the NBA trade deadline with a special focus on the moves the Los Angeles Lakers and Milwaukee Bucks made, previewing the Super Bowl and reviewing WWE's Royal Rumble. Watch on YouTube: https://youtube.com/live/xJas9TsmmpE?feature=share Get at us: https://linktr.ee/TECKFoul

Oh no, he's Skrillex. [Skrirrex] run awaaaayyyyyyyy! {Entet The Multiverse} Well, that was fun. Here's the deal, we're gonna give you a whole new look— a whole new Waaahh. Everything. I've been in new york two years and still haven't been to the brooklyn bridge ‘cause I don't want to fight the sudden urge to impulsively throw myself off of it. Notes: My first sketch: buffering. But I don't know how to pull off that little round thing in sketch form. I'm sure it can be done…somehow. Why are we writing sketches? Just trying something… different Two Pilot Scripts peloton arrival My general obsession with these curtains I am obsessed with these curtains George Carlin's magnificent body lol now when they slam the door there's a comforter under it so the mad stays outside. Dumb fucks. Whatever I lose respect at home wrecker. She seemed nice tho. That's how they operate. Man this judge gon forreal give this lil white girl 3 million dollars for doing some only fans shit for her boss— for free. I'm sorry ya'll, white folks really are lazy. They went and invented work from home, but you ever realize that was really only for the white people— all the white peoples have cushy stay at home jobs where all they do is zoom all day and they got all the ugly brown motherfuckers out here on mopeds delivering groceries and shit? You ever notice that? Please. You had better hope the judge in this case is not me, if you actually want to win this motherfucker. I would look at this case and go “Married man.. uh huh…two kids… uh huh— you thought you were in love—huh. Gave you a promotion. Uh huh. Screenshots. I see— and then you did what for him on a zoom call? Oh no, honey, huh uh. Case dismissed. You did wrong. You went and prayed on a married man, child! You know they are weak! You know this! How does that make the company owe you $3 million? HOW IS IT THE COMPANY'S FAULT THAT YOURE A HOE!? Huh uh. Take your dirty tennis shoe lazy instacarttttttt orderin ass eating-out-every-night BACK TO WORK!! And GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR. Slam that shit one more time, hoe! She's taking this homewrecker thing too seriously. When I said “you're a homewrecker” I didn't mean “Slam the door until It falls off”, I more meant How does being a hoe deserve you $3 million?! IT DONT. That's some shit! Can't trust these niggas— But you fo sho can't trust these hoes. I'm just sayin. We get the whole negro spiritual? The whooooole negro spiritual. Cause all this #metoo bullshit . You know any white judge in they white mind is gonna be all “This poor little victim.” Whatever! She ferocious! Got a snake and everything! Can't trust noooooobody. Nobody. NOBODY. My lawsuit legitimate. I got motorcycles all up and down the block all day and all night to the point where I'm starting to be just as ugly on the inside, as these motorcycle motherfuckers are on the outside— I got a twitch now— Pisses me off. I developed a tremor. It was just mind games at first, but now my body in jeopardy!? Kill yo self. Karma gon whoop yo ass now it's icy and shit. SSSSSTTTTH, That's the back of a truck on yo' engine revving weak dick ass. ——sssssssss—CUH. Outta here. Fucktards. And you know what!? I'm black. I'mma go to the judge with all these recordings And all these reports, And all these statements— And he's gonna look me up and down and go— “You know a lot of people would be lucky to have what you have.” That's what they say. That this bullshit is a stroke of “luck”. And it is. When it's quiet. But for the time being— When there's no motorcycles, There's a homewrecking Snake wrangling; Door slamming hoe next door— And she wants to be FRIENDS. So you know what: I'm a be her friend. For as long as I'm single. I fuck around and get a man? I'm ghost. I'm gone. Whatever. She finna get $3milliomnf For being a slimy old Snake ass Manipulative Husband stealing Hoe And move on up. Just as a reminder to us all That all you have to do to get away with murder Is be a little white girl. You take the high road, And I'll take the low road And I'll be a gettin there before yeeeeee. Ok. So the Irish weren't playing— The song literally say: You take the high road (The moral high ground) And I'll take the low road (The hoe road) Oh shit. I gotta keep reading this shit . I couldn't have made it up better myself. ANOTHER MAGICIAN! I told you magic had something to do with it. Oh, it's— Probably nothing; You know you don't like it When cold hard dependence Just knocks on your door When you're standing butt naked The front door was opened, You've been quite lethargic, And after all the trauma The Cold War is over It's dark, damp and crowded A laugh, not a gesture, A swallow, not a falcon A sparrow, not a letter A mistress?! Oh pardon, sire. A partridge, a harpist— A hard alcoholic, And no one knows what comes after. Ya are honest or what? What's up, faggots? I'm at church, for Christ sakes! It's my day off, and God Almighty and I are in a High stakes game, alright, Keep driving me crazy, keep driving the crime rate up, and in time you'll be behind bars, And out of my way. The Red Dawn has come upon And now the west has won, sequestered every equestrian Shit I lost it Just wait for it. Damn this blondie is awesome. Embezzeled every pedestrian? That might work… —that resembles It's so nice to meet you. I'll shoot you. What. Don't touch me, I'll shoot you. With what. Silver pistol, jacket pocket. Wow. It's nice to meet you, too. How did you get that in here? I walked in. Through security? I didn't go through security. The worst part about living in New York City, Is all the smartest people are concentrated— To the rich areas. The outskirts is just a bunch of dumb motherfuckers banging on shit, and in their small world, they're important. In their small world, they run shit. That's when I realized that in order to maintain a world where I'm important— And I run shit, I have to stay away, and above these dumb motherfuckers. I— —Ahem—whatever. It's time for some SMUT VEE.. That's a good nickname. Maaaan. How long's it gonna take me to write this show? Maybe forever. {Enter The Multiverse} Lil bitz Have you ever started watching a video and thought, “I don't know if I can watch this” Because of the narrator's voice? By the way, If you can listen to those tik tok videos with robot AI captions, you should get yourself checked for a micro chip. You might be a robot. Anyway, Have you ever decided, Like, three seconds into the video that the dude's voice is just—so shitty that it might make the video shitty? No? Just me? {Enter The Multiverse} I nearly cleaned out the little free library after discovering that on the top shelf there were a slew of cookbooks, and more additions to the bottom. I hadn't been out in three days, but it seemed there was still some high level effort to theorize on how to go about siphoning my personal energy from inside of the apartment— I was still being followed. As I cleared the little library, dividing the take between my three bags, a blur of an ingrate human being passed from my right, explicitly and with purpose letting out a loud and obnoxious open-mouth cough— immediately, I coughed back, knowing that in time, the things I had been subjected to by these people would come back at them with roaring force—why not help along that karmic justice by paying it forward now, besides of course, the fact that I had for two more days been silent. ‘Disgusting fucking creatures.' And just with that, the opened-mouth coughing of a low-level gangstalker, I was proud that I had considered my purchase both urgent and imminent; there was no certain way to go about shutting myself away from the world besides doing it, and now with winter's chill gripping at the nose and fingertips, a cold wind whipping about and ice afoot, all the more reason to step aside and inside to resume creation—and the less time I spent on the street level with the roach and rat like people — much too far from the glittering and glamour filled luxe of Manhattan to be refined, well behaved, or mild mannered, they much emulated a lesser species by their habits and limitations. it was a frequency I strayed far away from, however— I had made it easy for them to stalk me on this particular morning, while although leaving for groceries at close to five or something of the like, and still being followed even then by the strange and shadowy type that at least stayed silent and kept great enough distance that it didn't bother too much, (besides the knowing that it never seemed seemed what time it actually was), that if I left my apartment at all, I would be followed; But, I had doubled back for the books after just by habit, though with a heavy load of groceries—baking goods and other heavy things I normally didn't buy, plus breakfast foods for the long haul, a self-initiated lockdown— and I knew that the later into the day it got, the more ‘sims' (a term I had deemed the robotic gangstalkers sent about remote controlled by their devices, whether they were doing it with intention or by force, or not.) They seemed at the disposal of the controllers, and while some of the sims were just weird, robotic drone-like people, many of them seemed dangerous—their frequencies almost creating such a friction that it seemed a disease to be in their presence. It had become clear that though docile and complacent, human beings had become weaponized by force, and the only thing keeping a revolution from emerging or a civil war from breaking out, was the intense divisiveness amongst people. People chose to remain as slaves, in utter complacency. I was skinnyish from running and awaiting the arrival of my Peloton, however. There was still 24 hours between now and then, the arrival of the beast and though I had spent the day before completely off grid, instead enjoying my now small library—though needing to be properly re-sorted, as collecting more literature had made a mess of things, (and though I had picked up a toy Hello Kitty Ukulele as wall decoration), I still somewhat refused to buy rugs or other practical decor or furniture, such as bookcases or even a bed. I was being stalked, followed and regularly tortured by sound and vibration interference— frequencies aimed directly into my abode, especially at times when I had wanted to rest, and though I could have avoided entirely at least some of these awful people by just leaving a little earlier, I then would have missed the all-too-beautiful reddened hues of the east coast sunrise; I had actually never seen such a ruby red light cast upon the Brooklyn brownstones, and although the people were sometimes ugly (the open-mouthed coughing ingrates, that is), the red and gold sunlight over the fallen leaves and east coast architecture almost made it worth it—and with any reckoning, my coughing back at the nasty little monster was a telltale sign that eventually, I'd either start beating the shit out of people when they coughed at me in public — or — I'd eventually craft a world without them in it by staking away from them, and taking long breaks from practicing behaviors and habits they exhibited. I no longer wanted to fit in, or become popular, or accepted, as I had finally realized that it was just as it always was, back in school: the popular people, even in music, “art”, and what was supposed to be “culture” weren't very bright—they were just brighter than enough of the people around them to get ahead by just enough whether by looks, money, or sometimes but rarely now, even, superior talent. They had been elected as representatives of the masses—the common man, the not-too-smart; the easily manipulated, and the docile. The superficial next generation was programmed to be limited to what had already happened; a stalemate in ingenuity, high art, and evolutionary consciousness in culture had been reached, as observed by dealings with the public world, as I studied their listening habits, social normalcies, and collective behaviors. The less time spent interacting with these ‘sims' and drones, the more in-depth my thoughts began to flourish—seeing in full color spectrums and patterns, acting and thinking in ways I was blessed to be abnormal in. I was no longer complacent in a world full of material greed and commercial competition, no longer feigning for mere objects that simply with decent credit anyone could go well into debt for—and most did. Instead, I would wear my same recycled clothes, keep to myself and my business, and craft from within some kind of masterpiece the world itself could no better inspire than I on my own. I was now the proud owner of a small library—and into my list of small but sacred prized possessions, two pilot television scripts from the era before which Television had deteriorated, in the onslaught of streaming culture; these two pilot scripts, neatly bracketed and crammed in between classic novels and cookbooks, were my happiest find since the treadmill, and of course— the Omega Juicer I still wasn't sure would ever work, but at least, watching the 11-year-old instruction video had given me a proper laugh, and besides not having the patience to further explore whether I had put it together incorrectly, or if it simply no longer operated, it was a device worth further considering spending time in order to try to make it work, before spending something awful on a machine of equal or lesser value. The treadmill had worked right away, and I was now clocking in segmented runs of about 4 miles a day— working my way up to seven, with the actual notion and belief that it was those Madonna-length runs which had manifested this apartment, and, that with the Peloton and those runs combined perhaps, if I were to stay in New York, an apartment in one of those tall shiny buildings in Manhattan would manifest itself—only second, of course, to a house in the Hollywood Hills. As for America, there was nowhere else I could I should be, I thought, and something strange had happened without my noticing—without any promotion whatsoever, I had garnered an unusually high amount of streams on I Love New York— surprisingly, with global response. I had gained followers and listeners in London, Germany, and Spain— top countries for dance music, and as I studied my metrics, I realized that the type of music I found easiest to make was performing the best; House and Techno snobs never changing, I had found a niché, and, another interesting point I had gathered was to find the Uptown A, without any promotion or live performance, was gaining traction and followers. Though minimal, without any effort, the numbers climbed all on their own. I found it astonishing that with no promotion at all, somehow, the album had circulated. Now I wished I had the focus and prayed for a way to finish the short film, or, collection or videos with a vague storyline which connected them together—however anyone wanted to see it, if they ever would. I was still largely out of storage space, and the phenomenon that the psychological terror attacks seemed to happen most frequently while online and even connected to my own private network, the more time I spent online the more time I spent under the blankets of honking horns, ravaged by motorcycles and modified engines, though—I found none of these people to be impressive or very powerful; their being counterproductive only alluded to the simple fact that it had become clear more people were born or made through neglect of some sort to be more useless than not— and so in effect, had to make use of themselves in other ways. I was almost trying to forge an alliance with the neighbor, but there was still some deepseated mistrust that probably had less to do with her race than her gender acclimations. I attempted not to judge, but it tormented me that anyone could knowingly sleep with a married man in exchange for a job and then expect 3 million for it was beyond me. Her unexpected visits and eagerness to see inside of my apartment was a discomfort, but to discover the likelihood of her induction to the wealthy— a millionaire status— angered me, but I was sure it was meant to, in that she herself was either some sort of plant, or a gangstalker who had been sent to gaslight in some sort of way— procuring information in one way or another or simply to plant seeds in my mind that hadn't needed to be there. It seemed she was in need of something—information, and that her motivations went beyond curiosity, however misjudged I might have been. Her actions seemed provocative and invasive, and however—the restlessness was already out of hand. I did my best to keep the peace, knowing all too well that a privalaged person made upset could be damaging and destructive. I had lived long enough to understand that, in fact, a cute little white girl could get her way with just about anything, using their ideal status and high regard as a tool of manipulation. I had no doubt that she would probably get her way— millions of dollars for doing nothing and being offended by it/- or even further, that it was all just an elaborate story crafted to further crank my brain, in addition to the motorcycles, the door slamming, and of course being followed to the gyms here-and-there and having had the entire year of living here being a nearly intolerably, noise filled nightmare. She had, after all, gone through wild and extraneous efforts to forage her way into being friends or something of the like, and, in my final attempt at being human, I thought to at the very least try to understand the idea of friendship, though probably having become forever unable to actually attain it. Friendship required trust, and, after hearing about her lawsuit, apparently for having had an extramarital affair with her married boss, with whom she “believed” was “in love with her”, it was perhaps the initial feeling of discomfort which had foundationally placed this person in the danger zone—that there was ‘just something' I couldn't trust about her—and I wondered as a future business owner how it might be the company's fault for her obvious moral defects. Further solidifying every reason to never pursue a married man, I pondered this; that in the modern practice of validating feminine toxicity and masquerading it as ‘justice' or ‘feminism' only further keeps women away as a whole from obtaining equality— on the moral high ground that one should not sleep with her boss, or should immediately report threatening behavior rather than to allow it in exchange for professional promotion, it only seems that the tactic of manipulation has to at some point come into play when indeed, over a period of time, one has gathered enough evidence to factor in a judgement that the company should compensate them. One should not be simply compensated for their willingness to display affection and exchanges of intimacy in a work environment if not reported at first concern; I was old enough to know better, so I figured certainly anyone given a few years in either direction should have a clear understanding of such. I had dealt numerouy with narcissists and manipulators all of my life, and it almost seemed an immediate red flag that she seemed to want so much to be friends, especially after having audibly reported me for various discrepancies—besides the obsurdity that she had decisively slammed doors as a means of getting attention. Perhaps it was some sort of sponsorship of sorts, indeed that she was a gangstalker herself and was being incentivized to act in such ways. For weeks, we had fallen into the habit of overendowment by way of gift exchange. Still, these were blurred lines; and I thought it best to be ‘friends' with a dangerous person rather than actual enemies. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and of course—keep it light, and simple, and on the surface. She might have known my line of work, but nothing else, and it seemed that I might actually have the advantage here— besides her being Caucasian, obviously of privelege and wealth and my being multiracial. I knew more about her than she did about me, and, under the suspicion alone that she was a plant, and with the confirmation of my theory that she had also been burning sage, (now having done so admittedly knowing that the other neighbors would suspect and report me), and the apparent falling out with the other neighbors over something I had neither asked, nor was interested about— perhaps the simple fact was, I distrusted her immediately just with the intrinsic sense that she was untrustworthy; the type of woman who would knowingly sleep with a married man, and worse— with the intention of monetary gain in mind. The type of woman you don't want around your husband, period. In that way, perhaps it was simply that I was traumatized, once having been severely cheated on and lied to by a serial cheater and later wifebeater, that it was impossible to not see myself as ‘the wife'. Though now happily divorced and not quite straying from single, though planning to somehow be married again even if it was in the style of Elizabeth Taylor or, Richard Pryor—or even Marilyn Monroe, just repeating the process in insanity, I realized, however impractically, that I enjoyed being married, and monogamous—and even if this did make me a simple and easy target for infidelity, I had learned something very simple and wholesome about myself; I was a good woman. And I enjoyed that. —Tales of a Superstar DJ. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Oh no, he's Skrillex. [Skrirrex] run awaaaayyyyyyyy! {Entet The Multiverse} Well, that was fun. Here's the deal, we're gonna give you a whole new look— a whole new Waaahh. Everything. I've been in new york two years and still haven't been to the brooklyn bridge ‘cause I don't want to fight the sudden urge to impulsively throw myself off of it. Notes: My first sketch: buffering. But I don't know how to pull off that little round thing in sketch form. I'm sure it can be done…somehow. Why are we writing sketches? Just trying something… different Two Pilot Scripts peloton arrival My general obsession with these curtains I am obsessed with these curtains George Carlin's magnificent body lol now when they slam the door there's a comforter under it so the mad stays outside. Dumb fucks. Whatever I lose respect at home wrecker. She seemed nice tho. That's how they operate. Man this judge gon forreal give this lil white girl 3 million dollars for doing some only fans shit for her boss— for free. I'm sorry ya'll, white folks really are lazy. They went and invented work from home, but you ever realize that was really only for the white people— all the white peoples have cushy stay at home jobs where all they do is zoom all day and they got all the ugly brown motherfuckers out here on mopeds delivering groceries and shit? You ever notice that? Please. You had better hope the judge in this case is not me, if you actually want to win this motherfucker. I would look at this case and go “Married man.. uh huh…two kids… uh huh— you thought you were in love—huh. Gave you a promotion. Uh huh. Screenshots. I see— and then you did what for him on a zoom call? Oh no, honey, huh uh. Case dismissed. You did wrong. You went and prayed on a married man, child! You know they are weak! You know this! How does that make the company owe you $3 million? HOW IS IT THE COMPANY'S FAULT THAT YOURE A HOE!? Huh uh. Take your dirty tennis shoe lazy instacarttttttt orderin ass eating-out-every-night BACK TO WORK!! And GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR. Slam that shit one more time, hoe! She's taking this homewrecker thing too seriously. When I said “you're a homewrecker” I didn't mean “Slam the door until It falls off”, I more meant How does being a hoe deserve you $3 million?! IT DONT. That's some shit! Can't trust these niggas— But you fo sho can't trust these hoes. I'm just sayin. We get the whole negro spiritual? The whooooole negro spiritual. Cause all this #metoo bullshit . You know any white judge in they white mind is gonna be all “This poor little victim.” Whatever! She ferocious! Got a snake and everything! Can't trust noooooobody. Nobody. NOBODY. My lawsuit legitimate. I got motorcycles all up and down the block all day and all night to the point where I'm starting to be just as ugly on the inside, as these motorcycle motherfuckers are on the outside— I got a twitch now— Pisses me off. I developed a tremor. It was just mind games at first, but now my body in jeopardy!? Kill yo self. Karma gon whoop yo ass now it's icy and shit. SSSSSTTTTH, That's the back of a truck on yo' engine revving weak dick ass. ——sssssssss—CUH. Outta here. Fucktards. And you know what!? I'm black. I'mma go to the judge with all these recordings And all these reports, And all these statements— And he's gonna look me up and down and go— “You know a lot of people would be lucky to have what you have.” That's what they say. That this bullshit is a stroke of “luck”. And it is. When it's quiet. But for the time being— When there's no motorcycles, There's a homewrecking Snake wrangling; Door slamming hoe next door— And she wants to be FRIENDS. So you know what: I'm a be her friend. For as long as I'm single. I fuck around and get a man? I'm ghost. I'm gone. Whatever. She finna get $3milliomnf For being a slimy old Snake ass Manipulative Husband stealing Hoe And move on up. Just as a reminder to us all That all you have to do to get away with murder Is be a little white girl. You take the high road, And I'll take the low road And I'll be a gettin there before yeeeeee. Ok. So the Irish weren't playing— The song literally say: You take the high road (The moral high ground) And I'll take the low road (The hoe road) Oh shit. I gotta keep reading this shit . I couldn't have made it up better myself. ANOTHER MAGICIAN! I told you magic had something to do with it. Oh, it's— Probably nothing; You know you don't like it When cold hard dependence Just knocks on your door When you're standing butt naked The front door was opened, You've been quite lethargic, And after all the trauma The Cold War is over It's dark, damp and crowded A laugh, not a gesture, A swallow, not a falcon A sparrow, not a letter A mistress?! Oh pardon, sire. A partridge, a harpist— A hard alcoholic, And no one knows what comes after. Ya are honest or what? What's up, faggots? I'm at church, for Christ sakes! It's my day off, and God Almighty and I are in a High stakes game, alright, Keep driving me crazy, keep driving the crime rate up, and in time you'll be behind bars, And out of my way. The Red Dawn has come upon And now the west has won, sequestered every equestrian Shit I lost it Just wait for it. Damn this blondie is awesome. Embezzeled every pedestrian? That might work… —that resembles It's so nice to meet you. I'll shoot you. What. Don't touch me, I'll shoot you. With what. Silver pistol, jacket pocket. Wow. It's nice to meet you, too. How did you get that in here? I walked in. Through security? I didn't go through security. The worst part about living in New York City, Is all the smartest people are concentrated— To the rich areas. The outskirts is just a bunch of dumb motherfuckers banging on shit, and in their small world, they're important. In their small world, they run shit. That's when I realized that in order to maintain a world where I'm important— And I run shit, I have to stay away, and above these dumb motherfuckers. I— —Ahem—whatever. It's time for some SMUT VEE.. That's a good nickname. Maaaan. How long's it gonna take me to write this show? Maybe forever. {Enter The Multiverse} Lil bitz Have you ever started watching a video and thought, “I don't know if I can watch this” Because of the narrator's voice? By the way, If you can listen to those tik tok videos with robot AI captions, you should get yourself checked for a micro chip. You might be a robot. Anyway, Have you ever decided, Like, three seconds into the video that the dude's voice is just—so shitty that it might make the video shitty? No? Just me? {Enter The Multiverse} I nearly cleaned out the little free library after discovering that on the top shelf there were a slew of cookbooks, and more additions to the bottom. I hadn't been out in three days, but it seemed there was still some high level effort to theorize on how to go about siphoning my personal energy from inside of the apartment— I was still being followed. As I cleared the little library, dividing the take between my three bags, a blur of an ingrate human being passed from my right, explicitly and with purpose letting out a loud and obnoxious open-mouth cough— immediately, I coughed back, knowing that in time, the things I had been subjected to by these people would come back at them with roaring force—why not help along that karmic justice by paying it forward now, besides of course, the fact that I had for two more days been silent. ‘Disgusting fucking creatures.' And just with that, the opened-mouth coughing of a low-level gangstalker, I was proud that I had considered my purchase both urgent and imminent; there was no certain way to go about shutting myself away from the world besides doing it, and now with winter's chill gripping at the nose and fingertips, a cold wind whipping about and ice afoot, all the more reason to step aside and inside to resume creation—and the less time I spent on the street level with the roach and rat like people — much too far from the glittering and glamour filled luxe of Manhattan to be refined, well behaved, or mild mannered, they much emulated a lesser species by their habits and limitations. it was a frequency I strayed far away from, however— I had made it easy for them to stalk me on this particular morning, while although leaving for groceries at close to five or something of the like, and still being followed even then by the strange and shadowy type that at least stayed silent and kept great enough distance that it didn't bother too much, (besides the knowing that it never seemed seemed what time it actually was), that if I left my apartment at all, I would be followed; But, I had doubled back for the books after just by habit, though with a heavy load of groceries—baking goods and other heavy things I normally didn't buy, plus breakfast foods for the long haul, a self-initiated lockdown— and I knew that the later into the day it got, the more ‘sims' (a term I had deemed the robotic gangstalkers sent about remote controlled by their devices, whether they were doing it with intention or by force, or not.) They seemed at the disposal of the controllers, and while some of the sims were just weird, robotic drone-like people, many of them seemed dangerous—their frequencies almost creating such a friction that it seemed a disease to be in their presence. It had become clear that though docile and complacent, human beings had become weaponized by force, and the only thing keeping a revolution from emerging or a civil war from breaking out, was the intense divisiveness amongst people. People chose to remain as slaves, in utter complacency. I was skinnyish from running and awaiting the arrival of my Peloton, however. There was still 24 hours between now and then, the arrival of the beast and though I had spent the day before completely off grid, instead enjoying my now small library—though needing to be properly re-sorted, as collecting more literature had made a mess of things, (and though I had picked up a toy Hello Kitty Ukulele as wall decoration), I still somewhat refused to buy rugs or other practical decor or furniture, such as bookcases or even a bed. I was being stalked, followed and regularly tortured by sound and vibration interference— frequencies aimed directly into my abode, especially at times when I had wanted to rest, and though I could have avoided entirely at least some of these awful people by just leaving a little earlier, I then would have missed the all-too-beautiful reddened hues of the east coast sunrise; I had actually never seen such a ruby red light cast upon the Brooklyn brownstones, and although the people were sometimes ugly (the open-mouthed coughing ingrates, that is), the red and gold sunlight over the fallen leaves and east coast architecture almost made it worth it—and with any reckoning, my coughing back at the nasty little monster was a telltale sign that eventually, I'd either start beating the shit out of people when they coughed at me in public — or — I'd eventually craft a world without them in it by staking away from them, and taking long breaks from practicing behaviors and habits they exhibited. I no longer wanted to fit in, or become popular, or accepted, as I had finally realized that it was just as it always was, back in school: the popular people, even in music, “art”, and what was supposed to be “culture” weren't very bright—they were just brighter than enough of the people around them to get ahead by just enough whether by looks, money, or sometimes but rarely now, even, superior talent. They had been elected as representatives of the masses—the common man, the not-too-smart; the easily manipulated, and the docile. The superficial next generation was programmed to be limited to what had already happened; a stalemate in ingenuity, high art, and evolutionary consciousness in culture had been reached, as observed by dealings with the public world, as I studied their listening habits, social normalcies, and collective behaviors. The less time spent interacting with these ‘sims' and drones, the more in-depth my thoughts began to flourish—seeing in full color spectrums and patterns, acting and thinking in ways I was blessed to be abnormal in. I was no longer complacent in a world full of material greed and commercial competition, no longer feigning for mere objects that simply with decent credit anyone could go well into debt for—and most did. Instead, I would wear my same recycled clothes, keep to myself and my business, and craft from within some kind of masterpiece the world itself could no better inspire than I on my own. I was now the proud owner of a small library—and into my list of small but sacred prized possessions, two pilot television scripts from the era before which Television had deteriorated, in the onslaught of streaming culture; these two pilot scripts, neatly bracketed and crammed in between classic novels and cookbooks, were my happiest find since the treadmill, and of course— the Omega Juicer I still wasn't sure would ever work, but at least, watching the 11-year-old instruction video had given me a proper laugh, and besides not having the patience to further explore whether I had put it together incorrectly, or if it simply no longer operated, it was a device worth further considering spending time in order to try to make it work, before spending something awful on a machine of equal or lesser value. The treadmill had worked right away, and I was now clocking in segmented runs of about 4 miles a day— working my way up to seven, with the actual notion and belief that it was those Madonna-length runs which had manifested this apartment, and, that with the Peloton and those runs combined perhaps, if I were to stay in New York, an apartment in one of those tall shiny buildings in Manhattan would manifest itself—only second, of course, to a house in the Hollywood Hills. As for America, there was nowhere else I could I should be, I thought, and something strange had happened without my noticing—without any promotion whatsoever, I had garnered an unusually high amount of streams on I Love New York— surprisingly, with global response. I had gained followers and listeners in London, Germany, and Spain— top countries for dance music, and as I studied my metrics, I realized that the type of music I found easiest to make was performing the best; House and Techno snobs never changing, I had found a niché, and, another interesting point I had gathered was to find the Uptown A, without any promotion or live performance, was gaining traction and followers. Though minimal, without any effort, the numbers climbed all on their own. I found it astonishing that with no promotion at all, somehow, the album had circulated. Now I wished I had the focus and prayed for a way to finish the short film, or, collection or videos with a vague storyline which connected them together—however anyone wanted to see it, if they ever would. I was still largely out of storage space, and the phenomenon that the psychological terror attacks seemed to happen most frequently while online and even connected to my own private network, the more time I spent online the more time I spent under the blankets of honking horns, ravaged by motorcycles and modified engines, though—I found none of these people to be impressive or very powerful; their being counterproductive only alluded to the simple fact that it had become clear more people were born or made through neglect of some sort to be more useless than not— and so in effect, had to make use of themselves in other ways. I was almost trying to forge an alliance with the neighbor, but there was still some deepseated mistrust that probably had less to do with her race than her gender acclimations. I attempted not to judge, but it tormented me that anyone could knowingly sleep with a married man in exchange for a job and then expect 3 million for it was beyond me. Her unexpected visits and eagerness to see inside of my apartment was a discomfort, but to discover the likelihood of her induction to the wealthy— a millionaire status— angered me, but I was sure it was meant to, in that she herself was either some sort of plant, or a gangstalker who had been sent to gaslight in some sort of way— procuring information in one way or another or simply to plant seeds in my mind that hadn't needed to be there. It seemed she was in need of something—information, and that her motivations went beyond curiosity, however misjudged I might have been. Her actions seemed provocative and invasive, and however—the restlessness was already out of hand. I did my best to keep the peace, knowing all too well that a privalaged person made upset could be damaging and destructive. I had lived long enough to understand that, in fact, a cute little white girl could get her way with just about anything, using their ideal status and high regard as a tool of manipulation. I had no doubt that she would probably get her way— millions of dollars for doing nothing and being offended by it/- or even further, that it was all just an elaborate story crafted to further crank my brain, in addition to the motorcycles, the door slamming, and of course being followed to the gyms here-and-there and having had the entire year of living here being a nearly intolerably, noise filled nightmare. She had, after all, gone through wild and extraneous efforts to forage her way into being friends or something of the like, and, in my final attempt at being human, I thought to at the very least try to understand the idea of friendship, though probably having become forever unable to actually attain it. Friendship required trust, and, after hearing about her lawsuit, apparently for having had an extramarital affair with her married boss, with whom she “believed” was “in love with her”, it was perhaps the initial feeling of discomfort which had foundationally placed this person in the danger zone—that there was ‘just something' I couldn't trust about her—and I wondered as a future business owner how it might be the company's fault for her obvious moral defects. Further solidifying every reason to never pursue a married man, I pondered this; that in the modern practice of validating feminine toxicity and masquerading it as ‘justice' or ‘feminism' only further keeps women away as a whole from obtaining equality— on the moral high ground that one should not sleep with her boss, or should immediately report threatening behavior rather than to allow it in exchange for professional promotion, it only seems that the tactic of manipulation has to at some point come into play when indeed, over a period of time, one has gathered enough evidence to factor in a judgement that the company should compensate them. One should not be simply compensated for their willingness to display affection and exchanges of intimacy in a work environment if not reported at first concern; I was old enough to know better, so I figured certainly anyone given a few years in either direction should have a clear understanding of such. I had dealt numerouy with narcissists and manipulators all of my life, and it almost seemed an immediate red flag that she seemed to want so much to be friends, especially after having audibly reported me for various discrepancies—besides the obsurdity that she had decisively slammed doors as a means of getting attention. Perhaps it was some sort of sponsorship of sorts, indeed that she was a gangstalker herself and was being incentivized to act in such ways. For weeks, we had fallen into the habit of overendowment by way of gift exchange. Still, these were blurred lines; and I thought it best to be ‘friends' with a dangerous person rather than actual enemies. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and of course—keep it light, and simple, and on the surface. She might have known my line of work, but nothing else, and it seemed that I might actually have the advantage here— besides her being Caucasian, obviously of privelege and wealth and my being multiracial. I knew more about her than she did about me, and, under the suspicion alone that she was a plant, and with the confirmation of my theory that she had also been burning sage, (now having done so admittedly knowing that the other neighbors would suspect and report me), and the apparent falling out with the other neighbors over something I had neither asked, nor was interested about— perhaps the simple fact was, I distrusted her immediately just with the intrinsic sense that she was untrustworthy; the type of woman who would knowingly sleep with a married man, and worse— with the intention of monetary gain in mind. The type of woman you don't want around your husband, period. In that way, perhaps it was simply that I was traumatized, once having been severely cheated on and lied to by a serial cheater and later wifebeater, that it was impossible to not see myself as ‘the wife'. Though now happily divorced and not quite straying from single, though planning to somehow be married again even if it was in the style of Elizabeth Taylor or, Richard Pryor—or even Marilyn Monroe, just repeating the process in insanity, I realized, however impractically, that I enjoyed being married, and monogamous—and even if this did make me a simple and easy target for infidelity, I had learned something very simple and wholesome about myself; I was a good woman. And I enjoyed that. —Tales of a Superstar DJ. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Oh no, he's Skrillex. [Skrirrex] run awaaaayyyyyyyy! {Entet The Multiverse} Well, that was fun. Here's the deal, we're gonna give you a whole new look— a whole new Waaahh. Everything. I've been in new york two years and still haven't been to the brooklyn bridge ‘cause I don't want to fight the sudden urge to impulsively throw myself off of it. Notes: My first sketch: buffering. But I don't know how to pull off that little round thing in sketch form. I'm sure it can be done…somehow. Why are we writing sketches? Just trying something… different Two Pilot Scripts peloton arrival My general obsession with these curtains I am obsessed with these curtains George Carlin's magnificent body lol now when they slam the door there's a comforter under it so the mad stays outside. Dumb fucks. Whatever I lose respect at home wrecker. She seemed nice tho. That's how they operate. Man this judge gon forreal give this lil white girl 3 million dollars for doing some only fans shit for her boss— for free. I'm sorry ya'll, white folks really are lazy. They went and invented work from home, but you ever realize that was really only for the white people— all the white peoples have cushy stay at home jobs where all they do is zoom all day and they got all the ugly brown motherfuckers out here on mopeds delivering groceries and shit? You ever notice that? Please. You had better hope the judge in this case is not me, if you actually want to win this motherfucker. I would look at this case and go “Married man.. uh huh…two kids… uh huh— you thought you were in love—huh. Gave you a promotion. Uh huh. Screenshots. I see— and then you did what for him on a zoom call? Oh no, honey, huh uh. Case dismissed. You did wrong. You went and prayed on a married man, child! You know they are weak! You know this! How does that make the company owe you $3 million? HOW IS IT THE COMPANY'S FAULT THAT YOURE A HOE!? Huh uh. Take your dirty tennis shoe lazy instacarttttttt orderin ass eating-out-every-night BACK TO WORK!! And GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR. Slam that shit one more time, hoe! She's taking this homewrecker thing too seriously. When I said “you're a homewrecker” I didn't mean “Slam the door until It falls off”, I more meant How does being a hoe deserve you $3 million?! IT DONT. That's some shit! Can't trust these niggas— But you fo sho can't trust these hoes. I'm just sayin. We get the whole negro spiritual? The whooooole negro spiritual. Cause all this #metoo bullshit . You know any white judge in they white mind is gonna be all “This poor little victim.” Whatever! She ferocious! Got a snake and everything! Can't trust noooooobody. Nobody. NOBODY. My lawsuit legitimate. I got motorcycles all up and down the block all day and all night to the point where I'm starting to be just as ugly on the inside, as these motorcycle motherfuckers are on the outside— I got a twitch now— Pisses me off. I developed a tremor. It was just mind games at first, but now my body in jeopardy!? Kill yo self. Karma gon whoop yo ass now it's icy and shit. SSSSSTTTTH, That's the back of a truck on yo' engine revving weak dick ass. ——sssssssss—CUH. Outta here. Fucktards. And you know what!? I'm black. I'mma go to the judge with all these recordings And all these reports, And all these statements— And he's gonna look me up and down and go— “You know a lot of people would be lucky to have what you have.” That's what they say. That this bullshit is a stroke of “luck”. And it is. When it's quiet. But for the time being— When there's no motorcycles, There's a homewrecking Snake wrangling; Door slamming hoe next door— And she wants to be FRIENDS. So you know what: I'm a be her friend. For as long as I'm single. I fuck around and get a man? I'm ghost. I'm gone. Whatever. She finna get $3milliomnf For being a slimy old Snake ass Manipulative Husband stealing Hoe And move on up. Just as a reminder to us all That all you have to do to get away with murder Is be a little white girl. You take the high road, And I'll take the low road And I'll be a gettin there before yeeeeee. Ok. So the Irish weren't playing— The song literally say: You take the high road (The moral high ground) And I'll take the low road (The hoe road) Oh shit. I gotta keep reading this shit . I couldn't have made it up better myself. ANOTHER MAGICIAN! I told you magic had something to do with it. Oh, it's— Probably nothing; You know you don't like it When cold hard dependence Just knocks on your door When you're standing butt naked The front door was opened, You've been quite lethargic, And after all the trauma The Cold War is over It's dark, damp and crowded A laugh, not a gesture, A swallow, not a falcon A sparrow, not a letter A mistress?! Oh pardon, sire. A partridge, a harpist— A hard alcoholic, And no one knows what comes after. Ya are honest or what? What's up, faggots? I'm at church, for Christ sakes! It's my day off, and God Almighty and I are in a High stakes game, alright, Keep driving me crazy, keep driving the crime rate up, and in time you'll be behind bars, And out of my way. The Red Dawn has come upon And now the west has won, sequestered every equestrian Shit I lost it Just wait for it. Damn this blondie is awesome. Embezzeled every pedestrian? That might work… —that resembles It's so nice to meet you. I'll shoot you. What. Don't touch me, I'll shoot you. With what. Silver pistol, jacket pocket. Wow. It's nice to meet you, too. How did you get that in here? I walked in. Through security? I didn't go through security. The worst part about living in New York City, Is all the smartest people are concentrated— To the rich areas. The outskirts is just a bunch of dumb motherfuckers banging on shit, and in their small world, they're important. In their small world, they run shit. That's when I realized that in order to maintain a world where I'm important— And I run shit, I have to stay away, and above these dumb motherfuckers. I— —Ahem—whatever. It's time for some SMUT VEE.. That's a good nickname. Maaaan. How long's it gonna take me to write this show? Maybe forever. {Enter The Multiverse} Lil bitz Have you ever started watching a video and thought, “I don't know if I can watch this” Because of the narrator's voice? By the way, If you can listen to those tik tok videos with robot AI captions, you should get yourself checked for a micro chip. You might be a robot. Anyway, Have you ever decided, Like, three seconds into the video that the dude's voice is just—so shitty that it might make the video shitty? No? Just me? {Enter The Multiverse} I nearly cleaned out the little free library after discovering that on the top shelf there were a slew of cookbooks, and more additions to the bottom. I hadn't been out in three days, but it seemed there was still some high level effort to theorize on how to go about siphoning my personal energy from inside of the apartment— I was still being followed. As I cleared the little library, dividing the take between my three bags, a blur of an ingrate human being passed from my right, explicitly and with purpose letting out a loud and obnoxious open-mouth cough— immediately, I coughed back, knowing that in time, the things I had been subjected to by these people would come back at them with roaring force—why not help along that karmic justice by paying it forward now, besides of course, the fact that I had for two more days been silent. ‘Disgusting fucking creatures.' And just with that, the opened-mouth coughing of a low-level gangstalker, I was proud that I had considered my purchase both urgent and imminent; there was no certain way to go about shutting myself away from the world besides doing it, and now with winter's chill gripping at the nose and fingertips, a cold wind whipping about and ice afoot, all the more reason to step aside and inside to resume creation—and the less time I spent on the street level with the roach and rat like people — much too far from the glittering and glamour filled luxe of Manhattan to be refined, well behaved, or mild mannered, they much emulated a lesser species by their habits and limitations. it was a frequency I strayed far away from, however— I had made it easy for them to stalk me on this particular morning, while although leaving for groceries at close to five or something of the like, and still being followed even then by the strange and shadowy type that at least stayed silent and kept great enough distance that it didn't bother too much, (besides the knowing that it never seemed seemed what time it actually was), that if I left my apartment at all, I would be followed; But, I had doubled back for the books after just by habit, though with a heavy load of groceries—baking goods and other heavy things I normally didn't buy, plus breakfast foods for the long haul, a self-initiated lockdown— and I knew that the later into the day it got, the more ‘sims' (a term I had deemed the robotic gangstalkers sent about remote controlled by their devices, whether they were doing it with intention or by force, or not.) They seemed at the disposal of the controllers, and while some of the sims were just weird, robotic drone-like people, many of them seemed dangerous—their frequencies almost creating such a friction that it seemed a disease to be in their presence. It had become clear that though docile and complacent, human beings had become weaponized by force, and the only thing keeping a revolution from emerging or a civil war from breaking out, was the intense divisiveness amongst people. People chose to remain as slaves, in utter complacency. I was skinnyish from running and awaiting the arrival of my Peloton, however. There was still 24 hours between now and then, the arrival of the beast and though I had spent the day before completely off grid, instead enjoying my now small library—though needing to be properly re-sorted, as collecting more literature had made a mess of things, (and though I had picked up a toy Hello Kitty Ukulele as wall decoration), I still somewhat refused to buy rugs or other practical decor or furniture, such as bookcases or even a bed. I was being stalked, followed and regularly tortured by sound and vibration interference— frequencies aimed directly into my abode, especially at times when I had wanted to rest, and though I could have avoided entirely at least some of these awful people by just leaving a little earlier, I then would have missed the all-too-beautiful reddened hues of the east coast sunrise; I had actually never seen such a ruby red light cast upon the Brooklyn brownstones, and although the people were sometimes ugly (the open-mouthed coughing ingrates, that is), the red and gold sunlight over the fallen leaves and east coast architecture almost made it worth it—and with any reckoning, my coughing back at the nasty little monster was a telltale sign that eventually, I'd either start beating the shit out of people when they coughed at me in public — or — I'd eventually craft a world without them in it by staking away from them, and taking long breaks from practicing behaviors and habits they exhibited. I no longer wanted to fit in, or become popular, or accepted, as I had finally realized that it was just as it always was, back in school: the popular people, even in music, “art”, and what was supposed to be “culture” weren't very bright—they were just brighter than enough of the people around them to get ahead by just enough whether by looks, money, or sometimes but rarely now, even, superior talent. They had been elected as representatives of the masses—the common man, the not-too-smart; the easily manipulated, and the docile. The superficial next generation was programmed to be limited to what had already happened; a stalemate in ingenuity, high art, and evolutionary consciousness in culture had been reached, as observed by dealings with the public world, as I studied their listening habits, social normalcies, and collective behaviors. The less time spent interacting with these ‘sims' and drones, the more in-depth my thoughts began to flourish—seeing in full color spectrums and patterns, acting and thinking in ways I was blessed to be abnormal in. I was no longer complacent in a world full of material greed and commercial competition, no longer feigning for mere objects that simply with decent credit anyone could go well into debt for—and most did. Instead, I would wear my same recycled clothes, keep to myself and my business, and craft from within some kind of masterpiece the world itself could no better inspire than I on my own. I was now the proud owner of a small library—and into my list of small but sacred prized possessions, two pilot television scripts from the era before which Television had deteriorated, in the onslaught of streaming culture; these two pilot scripts, neatly bracketed and crammed in between classic novels and cookbooks, were my happiest find since the treadmill, and of course— the Omega Juicer I still wasn't sure would ever work, but at least, watching the 11-year-old instruction video had given me a proper laugh, and besides not having the patience to further explore whether I had put it together incorrectly, or if it simply no longer operated, it was a device worth further considering spending time in order to try to make it work, before spending something awful on a machine of equal or lesser value. The treadmill had worked right away, and I was now clocking in segmented runs of about 4 miles a day— working my way up to seven, with the actual notion and belief that it was those Madonna-length runs which had manifested this apartment, and, that with the Peloton and those runs combined perhaps, if I were to stay in New York, an apartment in one of those tall shiny buildings in Manhattan would manifest itself—only second, of course, to a house in the Hollywood Hills. As for America, there was nowhere else I could I should be, I thought, and something strange had happened without my noticing—without any promotion whatsoever, I had garnered an unusually high amount of streams on I Love New York— surprisingly, with global response. I had gained followers and listeners in London, Germany, and Spain— top countries for dance music, and as I studied my metrics, I realized that the type of music I found easiest to make was performing the best; House and Techno snobs never changing, I had found a niché, and, another interesting point I had gathered was to find the Uptown A, without any promotion or live performance, was gaining traction and followers. Though minimal, without any effort, the numbers climbed all on their own. I found it astonishing that with no promotion at all, somehow, the album had circulated. Now I wished I had the focus and prayed for a way to finish the short film, or, collection or videos with a vague storyline which connected them together—however anyone wanted to see it, if they ever would. I was still largely out of storage space, and the phenomenon that the psychological terror attacks seemed to happen most frequently while online and even connected to my own private network, the more time I spent online the more time I spent under the blankets of honking horns, ravaged by motorcycles and modified engines, though—I found none of these people to be impressive or very powerful; their being counterproductive only alluded to the simple fact that it had become clear more people were born or made through neglect of some sort to be more useless than not— and so in effect, had to make use of themselves in other ways. I was almost trying to forge an alliance with the neighbor, but there was still some deepseated mistrust that probably had less to do with her race than her gender acclimations. I attempted not to judge, but it tormented me that anyone could knowingly sleep with a married man in exchange for a job and then expect 3 million for it was beyond me. Her unexpected visits and eagerness to see inside of my apartment was a discomfort, but to discover the likelihood of her induction to the wealthy— a millionaire status— angered me, but I was sure it was meant to, in that she herself was either some sort of plant, or a gangstalker who had been sent to gaslight in some sort of way— procuring information in one way or another or simply to plant seeds in my mind that hadn't needed to be there. It seemed she was in need of something—information, and that her motivations went beyond curiosity, however misjudged I might have been. Her actions seemed provocative and invasive, and however—the restlessness was already out of hand. I did my best to keep the peace, knowing all too well that a privalaged person made upset could be damaging and destructive. I had lived long enough to understand that, in fact, a cute little white girl could get her way with just about anything, using their ideal status and high regard as a tool of manipulation. I had no doubt that she would probably get her way— millions of dollars for doing nothing and being offended by it/- or even further, that it was all just an elaborate story crafted to further crank my brain, in addition to the motorcycles, the door slamming, and of course being followed to the gyms here-and-there and having had the entire year of living here being a nearly intolerably, noise filled nightmare. She had, after all, gone through wild and extraneous efforts to forage her way into being friends or something of the like, and, in my final attempt at being human, I thought to at the very least try to understand the idea of friendship, though probably having become forever unable to actually attain it. Friendship required trust, and, after hearing about her lawsuit, apparently for having had an extramarital affair with her married boss, with whom she “believed” was “in love with her”, it was perhaps the initial feeling of discomfort which had foundationally placed this person in the danger zone—that there was ‘just something' I couldn't trust about her—and I wondered as a future business owner how it might be the company's fault for her obvious moral defects. Further solidifying every reason to never pursue a married man, I pondered this; that in the modern practice of validating feminine toxicity and masquerading it as ‘justice' or ‘feminism' only further keeps women away as a whole from obtaining equality— on the moral high ground that one should not sleep with her boss, or should immediately report threatening behavior rather than to allow it in exchange for professional promotion, it only seems that the tactic of manipulation has to at some point come into play when indeed, over a period of time, one has gathered enough evidence to factor in a judgement that the company should compensate them. One should not be simply compensated for their willingness to display affection and exchanges of intimacy in a work environment if not reported at first concern; I was old enough to know better, so I figured certainly anyone given a few years in either direction should have a clear understanding of such. I had dealt numerouy with narcissists and manipulators all of my life, and it almost seemed an immediate red flag that she seemed to want so much to be friends, especially after having audibly reported me for various discrepancies—besides the obsurdity that she had decisively slammed doors as a means of getting attention. Perhaps it was some sort of sponsorship of sorts, indeed that she was a gangstalker herself and was being incentivized to act in such ways. For weeks, we had fallen into the habit of overendowment by way of gift exchange. Still, these were blurred lines; and I thought it best to be ‘friends' with a dangerous person rather than actual enemies. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, and of course—keep it light, and simple, and on the surface. She might have known my line of work, but nothing else, and it seemed that I might actually have the advantage here— besides her being Caucasian, obviously of privelege and wealth and my being multiracial. I knew more about her than she did about me, and, under the suspicion alone that she was a plant, and with the confirmation of my theory that she had also been burning sage, (now having done so admittedly knowing that the other neighbors would suspect and report me), and the apparent falling out with the other neighbors over something I had neither asked, nor was interested about— perhaps the simple fact was, I distrusted her immediately just with the intrinsic sense that she was untrustworthy; the type of woman who would knowingly sleep with a married man, and worse— with the intention of monetary gain in mind. The type of woman you don't want around your husband, period. In that way, perhaps it was simply that I was traumatized, once having been severely cheated on and lied to by a serial cheater and later wifebeater, that it was impossible to not see myself as ‘the wife'. Though now happily divorced and not quite straying from single, though planning to somehow be married again even if it was in the style of Elizabeth Taylor or, Richard Pryor—or even Marilyn Monroe, just repeating the process in insanity, I realized, however impractically, that I enjoyed being married, and monogamous—and even if this did make me a simple and easy target for infidelity, I had learned something very simple and wholesome about myself; I was a good woman. And I enjoyed that. —Tales of a Superstar DJ. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™] COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ©

Maaaan do we have a lot to talk about. Penguin finale. The return of Yellowstone. D23 from Brazil and maybe some MCU show rankings updated!#penguin #yellowstone #d23 #geekspotnews

With the insurrection against the Roman Republic well underway, we witness the behind-the-scenes actions taken to quell this most treasonous act. But will Catiline emerge victorious? Or will Cicero, the consul, and the Senate be able to stop him in his tracks? Find out in the exciting conclusion of the Catiline Conspiracy! --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/historylovescompany/support

The history of Rome is perhaps best known and most famous for its days as a vast empire, the largest of the Ancient World. But before Augustus Caesar declared himself its first emperor, it was a republic and had been for some five centuries. Though it served its people well, it soon became steeped in corruption and political turmoil, perhaps none more so than in the subject of this week's episode. Join me for the first part of a two-parter all about the greatest political event of the Roman Republic...the notorious Cataline Conspiracy! --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/historylovescompany/support

On today's 5-30-24 Thursday show: We share what we are majoring and minoring in our life, we have another edition of ‘Meeting In The Ladies Room' where we discuss proper shaving techniques, we introduce a new segment ‘Meeting in the Men's Room', Bad Bunny and Kendell Jenner were spotted sneaking out of a hotel together sparking dating rumors, Diddy has not been attending his kids events, Selena Gomez says she had plans to adopt a baby, people think that Jason Kelce might have hinted at marriage with Travis Kelce, a man gets caught driving with a suspended license, researchers have found a link between tattoos and cancer, Justin Bieber upgrades Hailey Bieber's wedding ring, and so much more!  

On this episode, the guys roast The Roast Master, talk Kendrick vs Drake, throwing up in the airport, Josh's meeting with Stan Lee and more!

In this episode, the Bros talk about the NBA playoffs as they move into the second round. Eddy Kool debuts a new segment called "3 Things," and the topics revolve around the NFL. They discuss which active athlete would transition smoothly as a sports analyst/personality. Find out on this week's Choices Of The Voices. Scottie D graduates, Eddy Kool wants the WNBA to do better, and B. Live becomes the bear that gets poked. All this and more await you in this episode. Click Here For More Bros Connect With The SportsBros | Twitter, Instagram, Facebook | Linktree Tune In to the Wellness Check Wednesdays Podcast Wellness Check Wednesdays Podcast • A podcast on Spotify for Podcasters --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thesportsbrospodcast/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/thesportsbrospodcast/support

The moderate doesn't exist anymore. Tell your squad to follow my pod DaGrayArea Podcast STREAMING EVERYWHERE #DalinquentArmy

On this episode, Josh and Jacob talk about "Quiet On The Set", Josh talks about being a little too high onstage, Josh tells a story about running full speed into a sliding glass door and more!

Maaaan! The Rams lost in an overtime heartbreaker to the Ravens. And while Larry and Kevin are feeling bummed and dejected, they also see a TON of positives to take away from this game. Good thing we can always count on our Perennial Pollyanna's of Podcasting! To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The one thing we must not do is pretend to be something we're not, and that's including emotions. Don't get me wrong, being a Christian, I have always thought that we would be happy and never have storms in our lives. Maaaan, did I have a rude awakening, but here's the good news. Just as long as we have Christ, the storms will pass. And that's where our perseverance, faith, and creativity kicks in. You stay focused and watch what happens. Cashapp $Dupree1107 --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/enjoyinglife/message

"You see, in this world there's two kinds of people, my friend: those with loaded guns, and those who dig." Maaaan have we got one for you all this week. Our first venture into soundtrack territory, and you know we were gonna swing for the fences. How about some Morricone mixed with some Clint Eastwood to make everyone feel like a badass?Hilary and Cody talk about the depth of collaboration between Sergio Leone and Morricone, the way the music brilliantly functions as its own character, and the innovations that went into making a score that continues to inspire awe to this day.Special thanks to the Academy Museum for having us attend a screening of this fantastic film! Go check them out, they absolutely rule.Instagram: @academymuseumX: @AcademyMuseumThanks for listening! Check out everything we have going on via the info below: Instagram: @earwaxpod TikTok: @earwaxpod Amoeba on Instagram: @amoebahollywood @amoebasf @amoebaberkeley Questions, Suggestions, Corrections (surely we're perfect): earwaxpodcast@amoeba-music.com Credits:Edited by Claudia Rivera-TinsleyAll music written and performed by Spencer Belden"EarWax Main Theme" performed by Spencer Belden feat. David Otis

Maaaan it was a crazy as Friday

Maaaan! Dealing with ambiguity has Juac pissed this episode! We discuss week 3 of the Insensitive Culture Fantasy Football highlights; NASA plans to land a robot on an asteroid; Usher headlines the Super Bowl halftime show; Kilos of Fentanyl found in Bronx daycare; Hollywood screenwriters come to agreement with studios; Peso Pluma threatened by Mexican cartel; Do we need “The Office” reboot this early?? QOTD: “Would you rather have to tell your wife you got another woman pregnant or box Mike Tyson in his prime?” “Would you rather scam your parents out of their retirement money or lose a week of your life every time you have sex?” “You get $7500 a day for life. You have to spend all $7500 by midnight or you don't get any more money. What do you spend it on?” I F••k Wit It!: Telemarketers The Morning Show Lioness NEED MERCH?!: www.insensitivemerch.com AFFILIATE PODCASTS: CriticalMass (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/criticalmass-podcast/id1350565395) For more info about us visit: asylumstudios.live/ Contact via email: joaquin@asylumstudios.live AsylumStudios #InsensitiveCulture #podcast #podcasting #spotify #podcasts #podcastersofinstagram #podcastlife #podcaster #youtube #hollywood #movienews #comedy #itunes #podcasters #film #applepodcasts #podcastshow #interview #newpodcast #television #spotifypodcast #applepodcast #cinema #radioshow #popculture

The world cheered when Joseph Dituri beat the world record for living underwater without depressurization. Now that he's back on dry land he said he lost something when he was down there. “I shrunk about half an inch,” Dituri said. He compared the height he lost to the height astronauts gain when they are in space. “Astronauts are in tension, so they are basically being flung apart and I'm being compressed together,” Dituri said. He told Matt Austin and Ginger Gadsden during a conversation on Florida's Fourth Estate that he noticed something was different while he was still inside the Jules' Undersea Lodge in Key Largo. “Here, I am the tall guy right and I'm constantly scrapping my head on the escape hatch on top, and I was like ‘Hey, I'm not hitting the escape hatch anymore' and I'm like ‘I must have shrunk' and then of course there's no good place to measure yourself. When I get to the surface, I am 72 and a little bit inches. I'm like ‘Maaaan, I was 73!'” The question now is: Will he get that height back? “I don't know. The astronauts do compress back down, so we will see,” he Florida's Fourth Estate will be in touch and have an update if Dituri does in fact regain that height. You can listen to Dituri's full conversation about what it was like to live underwater for 100 days, who he really wants to inspire and what he hopes to achieve next on Florida's Fourth Estate. You can download the podcast from wherever you listen to podcasts. You can also watch anytime on News 6+. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

At what point does a man or woman have the right to presume that despite your interactions, situationship or meetups that they can do certain things to you? Can 'mark' you? Leave trails of their time with you...ON you? Like, what? JS is talking about when its okay and when it is not okay!

Could a major roadblock for international players in the NIL game finally be removed?

S1E47 - Joe talks about focusing on yourself in a relationship Song - Jack Savoretti - What More Can I Do?

#QUEENENTREPRENEUR - Episode 34 of Pearls & Politics Podcast features the Queen of Entrepreneurship Tawanda Story. Nurse Story leads us through the many life experiences that brought about the visions for her thriving businesses specializing in everything from geriatric advocacy to the delectable art of charcuterie. She shares her love and passion for the elderly and how she will never stop fighting for the proper care and love for our elders.Please join us on YouTube and everywhere podcasts are heard for this amazing Episode! Please don't forget to like, love, share and SUBSCRIBE!#pearls #politics #podcast #618 #ESTL #89blocks #ESTLfinest #LincolnTiger #CO95 #blackbusiness #blackwomanownedbusiness #eldercare #advocacy #charcuterie #charcuterieboard #sgrho #prettypoodle #d9 #nphc #community #vans #myprideapparel #7forallmankind #Spotify #iHeartRadio #stitcher #Audible #RadioPublic #apple #iHeartRadio #googlepodcast #youtubeSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/pearlsandpolitics/donations

E.B. is back in this ridiculously BORING venture into the continuation of Charles Band's EVIL BONG series! Nearly every new episode has a video version on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCa1yE4TMVtbkRgxMtx5rTZg (Or search Horror Soup) Hundreds of bonus episodes & more on patreon.com/horrorsoup Instagram @horrorsoup & @niteshiftvideo (James) & @vibes_cleveland (Tough Guy) Twitter: @horrorsoupsucks TikTok: @banmeagainthen & @niteshiftvideo (James) & @toughguysoup (Tough Guy) Letterboxd: @horrorsoupcaleb & @niteshiftvideo (James) & @vibes_cleveland (Tough Guy) Music Credits: Ross Lee, The Mutant Members Only Club, Sonissam, & Astroblk. Produced by: Tough Guy

In this final episode of season one, we talk about what "doing you" looks like. --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/renaissance-bodybuilder/message

Maaaan hold up! This week I got to sit down with a man who has been a friend and a mentor to me for like 30 years, Jeff Liles. This man has stories and I think just about anyone would enjoy listening to this one. I first met Jeff when he was a member of the group Decadent Dub Team, an experimental, electronic, hip-hop group from Dallas. The man has literally done it all and has always looked out for me in my journey through the music world. I was like 19 years old maybe 20 when we met and soon after noticed that he was thanked on the back of the NWA and the Posse record. I was floored for real. Like how the hell did that happen? Dude from Dallas thanked on the back of one of my favorite records of all time??? Well listen and find out just how that happened. The stories on this one are amazing. His musical knowledge and experience is unmatched, Jeff is a truly unique individual who has always stayed true to himself and his mission and the music. We got to talk at the Kessler Theater (where I also did Episode 1 with Money Waters) about the history of Deep Ellum, NWA, his time in Los Angeles, Decadent Dub Team, his solo project Cottonmouth, TX, The Buck Pets, The Axiom, tripping balls at a Grateful Dead concert as a teenager, man we just went in. As always thank you for checking out Talk So Real with Matt Sonzala and tell a friend to tell a friend to tune in on all platforms!

Maaaan, Dusty is one of those guys that you feel better off having met and spent time with. He's the easiest, most honest, dedicated human you'll ever meet. Tune in for a today on how Dusty went from fishing, to rowing, to photography, to amazing videography, to hunting, to western film - and tying it all together into a passion that pays. @dustysousley @the.vanguard.project Sponsors: Eberlestock - call Tucker at the Retail Store (208) 424-5081 Black Rifle Coffee // code 'VANGUARD' 20% off Midwest Gun Works // code 'VANGUARD' 5% off Mountain Primal Meat Co. // code 'VANGUARD' for 15% off Bravo Concealment // code: 'TheVanguard10' www.vrblabs.com  // code: VANGUARD20 for 20% off

Control. Maaaan can that be an ugly word. But what if you use it for good? How do you deal with someone who's extremely controlling? What if YOU are that someone? We gots some work to do! Let's chat…Join us this week and slide into our inbox, boo thang! We want to hear what you have to say! GiveMeTheTipPodcast@gmail.comMake sure to follow us on Instagram, like us on Facebook, & Subscribe. Like what you hear?! Please leave us a ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ review on your favorite podcast directory below.

Maaaan hold up! This week I got to sit down with a man who has been a friend and a mentor to me for like 30 years, Jeff Liles. This man has stories and I think just about anyone would enjoy listening to this one. I first met Jeff when he was a member of the group Decadent Dub Team, an experimental, electronic, hip-hop group from Dallas. The man has literally done it all and has always looked out for me in my journey through the music world. I was like 19 years old maybe 20 when we met and soon after noticed that he was thanked on the back of the NWA and the Posse record. I was floored for real. Like how the hell did that happen? Dude from Dallas thanked on the back of one of my favorite records of all time??? Well listen and find out just how that happened. The stories on this one are amazing. His musical knowledge and experience is unmatched, Jeff is a truly unique individual who has always stayed true to himself and his mission and the music. We got to talk at the Kessler Theater (where I also did Episode 1 with Money Waters) about the history of Deep Ellum, NWA, his time in Los Angeles, Decadent Dub Team, his solo project Cottonmouth, TX, The Buck Pets, The Axiom, tripping balls at a Grateful Dead concert as a teenager, man we just went in. As always thank you for checking out Talk So Real with Matt Sonzala and tell a friend to tell a friend to tune in on all platforms! @kesslerxplus @kesslertheater #Dallas #DallasTX #Texas #talksoreal #interview #podcast #Jeff #JeffLiles #music #hiphop #thekessler #kesslertheater #buckpets #DeepEllum #EdieBrickell #NWA #EazyE #NewBohemians #Rigormortis #DrDre #Chock #KimBuie #AlexMoore #DDT #DecadentDubTeam #IslandRecords #Trees #Chate --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/pushermania/message

On this episode, Erik and Jamaal pay their respects to the late Nichelle Nichols and get into all the news of the cancelled "Batgirl" movie and what Warner Bros. Discovery has in store for DC Comics films for the next 10 years. Follow us on Twitter and Instagram: @welikeitsowhat --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/welikeitsowhat/support

Big Daddy went on an old school road trip. Much needed, much appreciated, and much loved! From Scottsdale, Tucson, Phoenix, and other places in-between. Maaaan, it was a damn good adventure! Quick note...I say Old Phoenix several times. I was ACTUALLY in Tucson! Sorry about that!Let's speak on it! Got a question for me? Hit me up: poppabear426@gmail.com Love hoodies? Check out my shop! https://crazyhoodiez.comCplus Studios, baby!Cplus Studios - YouTubeCplus Studios BuzzsproutBuzzsprout#bigdaddy #bigdaddyforever #askbigdaddy #bdf #crazyhoodiez #oldschool #misfit #afrolatino #amigobrother #podcast #society #culture #iwantthethrone #buzzsprout #youtube #instagram #life #roadtrip #protectyourpeace #protectyaneck #tucson #phoenix #scottsdale #tombstoneIPA #tequila #cplusstudios928 #neversecondchoice

Yall, I (Stephone) got off of a live call in my private Facebook group where I do all my virtual coaching and MAAAAN, was I fired up!!! For the call, I brought on one of my one-on-one clients to talk about his experience and to tell a little of his story. This conversations sparked this concept of 500 days! I don't want to go into too much detail because I want you to listed to this episode! Be warned, I BRING THE FIRE!!! Which is perfect for your Monday!! I hope you enjoy today's episode! If you do, all we ask is you share it with your friends and family. Talk about it at work or put it on your social media and tag us! Either way, we appreciate you and the support!! On a MISSION to create a MVMNT of like-minded people that want to WIN and see others WIN!! #HDAW #BuiltDifferent

Super Liquor Good News is baaack See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Ep. 87: Back from surgery and Mike got something to say! Maaaan y'all just gotta listen! --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/michael-c-stafford-jr/message

We all remember that famous Austin Powers quote, "That's a Maaaan, Baby!!" But in 2022, what does it mean to be a "man"? Is it the old school definition of the gruff, strong but silent tough guy, or is it something deeper? In this episode 3 The Hard Way delves into this complicated question of what it means to me a man in 2022. Does your sexuality dictate this? Does your gender identity dictate this? These are complicated questions in the modern era. Listen as 3 The Hard Way go deep into these questions and discusses what the old school definition was and does it apply to today. They also bring back their segment of "Honorable Mention", honoring the late, great actor/director Sidney Poitier. And of course they wrap it up with their popular segment "What You Rockin Wit?" Tune in to this deep episode and be sure to share your thoughts on our social media page!!

Maaaan, my boy Alan was adamant to come through and defend HOV. First time I've had somebody approach me to record but he mentioned D'usse would be involved so I allowed it Of course, we had to dive into Hip Hop, HOV Verzus everybody & the culture overall (yeah, Alan had to throw some Tekashi into the mix). Shouts to my Potnas Gigante Al & Bobby Drake for pullin' up for this late night Hip Hop discussion.    Catch Alan on IG @EatingWithAlan Bobby Drake on IG @Blackbeardsblog The Pod on IG @TheSoleTap_Podcast

Well HERE WE DANG ARE, we made it to the PRESENT FRIGGIN' DAY. And now we gotta go to WORK??? Maaaan, this is—hold on lemme check my 90's-lingo flashcards—GRODY UNTO THE ACTUAL MAX. There's NOTHING that could make this day better, not even a MYSTERIOUS HAPPENING or a VISIT FROM AN UNEXPECTED FEMININE PRESENCE.Peculiar Objects Season 3 is run by Anthony Moore and played by Nigel Collins and Casey Hills, who also edits and produces it. Find it and more of our shows on the Semiautomagic Podcast Network at semiautomagicinc.com, and follow us on Twitter @Semiautomagi and @The_PO_Box!Remember: If there's a ding, there's a sting!

Yooo yooo yoo! Its EPISODE 3 of the YoungOgz Podcast and we're right on time for a bunch of new shit about to pop off! OPENING DAY of the NBA season has just started and the Lakers and Nets both took crucial losses in their first games. Do the Nets need Kyrie to win big this season, should he get the vaccine/ does Russ need to take a role on the bench for the Lakers to start winning? Alot happening in the entertainment business right now with the new hit series BMF created by 50 Cent circulating the streets- we think its the best new show out right now... maybe even better than POWER, what yall think! IMPORTANT MESSAGE to all the YoungOgz out there listening to us thats handling they business, THE STREETS IS DEAD! Dave Chappelle getting cancelled by the cancel culture committee right now but whats the basis behind the whole movement?  18 year old woman marrying her godfather who's 60+ years of age?? Maaaan yall tell us whats really going on right now. Sound like its time for the YoungOgz to handle it! Support the show (https://www.patreon.com/youngogzpodcast)

We had a very adventurous evening, so we just had to share with ya'll!  Definition for this episode:  according to Google, The full expression of 'Chunda' which is the correct spelling phonetically, originally derives from two words 'Watch and Under' the words being expressed to warn anyone below that they may be vomited on.  Otherwise known as emesis, throw up, vomit and others.  Also known as a very unpleasant experience for all involved.Verse of the day: James 1:2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you are involved in various trials, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.Credit to Wild Wild West the movie for todays title and quote.Appreciation given to Paul Mitchell for the great hair care products!--- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app

Maaaan this was a good one Woooow

Maaaan shit just got really really deep!!

Maaaan oh Maaaaan, we're really starting to have fun with this podcasting thing! The TMC crew chops it up about the "SHOCKING" OnlyFans announcement, the question of race specific sickness & diseases, Apple's fight to protect the children, and Elon musk creating iRobot right under our noses.... Lets talk about it!!Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/talkmycredo/exclusive-content

This episode is about dreams coming true and it happening to you with the WV lottery. We talk about lottery curses, trips down the river, retirement, and #2's...a lot. Tune in to hear us just be absolutely goofy.

I read 8 excerpts from some of my favorite authors. I stumble and stutter and I'm not composed at all, don't judge me, let's read together. It's therapy.

Maaaan, talkin about ig filters, fast food, deep dive on Haiti's history, whats really going down in Cuba, Richard Branson didn't go to space and it's not that dope, lifting the federal ban of marijuana, McGregor vs Poirer recap, Ohtani on his way to being a super star, Stephen A smith speaking japanese, Ohtani on his way to being a super star, USA olympic debate, sneezes and the real meaning of communism. Holler at us - Twitter: https://twitter.com/GenGpodcast IG: https://www.instagram.com/gengpodcast/

Maaaan...what can you say about them that hasn't already been said!? We're counting down one of "Hollyweird's" finest, everyone...Motley Crue. We get a little into Glam/Hair Metal s a genre itself, some of Jason's childhood, and a bit of the off-stage antics as well. - What are some of your favorite Motley Crue songs? - Theme Song: Godhammered

Maaaan... Being an entrepreneur couple with kids is definitely not easy but we get it done. In this episode, we breakdown for you guys all the tasks that come with it and the ups and downs. This episode is sponsored by MOVE online dance fitness gym (IfYouCanMove.com) Follow us on IG @ThePerfectCouplePodcast @KeairaLaShae @KP_theceo

Maaaan did Twitter come through today. Will and Chuck take questions from #ClipperNation on Twitter, talk about the upcoming trade deadline, and preview the Clippers vs Hornets game  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Maaaan....Tell em I Aint Got It by The Y.A.M.S. Podcast