Podcasts about replicas

Pastor Joe's Sunday morning sermon entitled, “The Real Thing vs The Replica”. This sermon covers Acts 8:9-25.To learn more about CCPV, visit us on our…Website: www.ccpomonavalley.comInstagram: @calvarychapelpomonavalleyFacebook: @ccpomonavalleyYouTube: @CalvaryChapelPomonaValleyFind us on the Church Center App!

Are the personas we craft online mere shadows of our true selves, or do they reveal deeper, more authentic layers of our identity? In "Real or Replica," we unravel the paradox of our digital doppelgängers, examining how social media and technology shape self-perception and authenticity. As we navigate the blurred lines between reality and representation, what do our curated online lives say about our inner truths? Join us for a thought-provoking journey into the consciousness of the digital age—where every click could redefine who we think we are.

Save the Children alerta del peligro de la autoexposición en redes: "Parece que empodera, pero replica dinámicas de pornografía"

Replica de tu servidor WebDAV en tu móvil Sigue leyendo el post completo de Replica de tu servidor WebDAV en tu móvil Visita uGeek Podcast Visita uGeek Podcast Suscribete al Podcast de uGeek

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Replica de tu servidor WebDAV en tu móvil

In questa diretta parliamo del perchè la bolla dell'AI scoppia domaniTi sei perso l'evento formativo gratuito “Patrimonio che rende” ? Guarda la REPLICA su https://www.pianofinanziario.it/rendita

In occasione del Black Friday, solo fino al 30 novembre, puoi acquistare PIANO 360 al 75% di sconto! Cogli subito l'offerta su https://www.pianofinanziario.it/piano360

In questa diretta parliamo di come raggiungere il benessere finanziario!In occasione del Black Friday, solo fino al 30 novembre, puoi acquistare PIANO 360 al 75% di sconto! Cogli subito l'offerta su https://www.pianofinanziario.it/piano360Ti sei perso l'evento formativo gratuito “Patrimonio che rende” ? Guarda la REPLICA su https://www.pianofinanziario.it/rendita

Ti sei perso l'evento formativo gratuito “Patrimonio che rende” ?Guarda la REPLICA su https://www.pianofinanziario.it/rendita

Send us a textTara and EmKay are thrilled to be diving into Wicked musical non-replicas, specifically Brazil's multiple productions, with superfan Paulo Samu! Rabbit holes include the theater scene in Brazil, major changes in the Brazil non-replicas, casting shout outs, and more!*Please note this episode contains Wicked musical spoilers :)Show Notes:Drawn by BryanDrawn by Bryan RedBubbleDrawn by Bryan TeePublicScenery Bagspaulosamu.artInstagram: @downtheyellowbrickpod#DownTheYBPTara: @taratagticklesEmKay: www.emilykayshrader.netPatreon: https://www.patreon.com/downtheyellowbrickpodEtsy: https://www.etsy.com/market/down_the_yellow_brick_podMusic by: Shane ChapmanEdited by: Emily Kay Shrader Down the Yellow Brick Pod: A Wizard of Oz Podcast preserving the history and legacy of Oz

Welcome to another episode of BREAKING Protocol, our ongoing mini-series where we break down key updates and design questions straight from the development of SHADE Protocol. Today's spotlight takes us away from weapons and mechanics, and into something more personal. We're looking at one of SHADE Protocol's key companions — Clayre, a bright, loving Replica who represents one of the game's most important themes: hope.⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/LittleLegendaryGames?utm_source=linktree_profile_share⁠⁠⁠⁠Host: Jared Gonzalez. Executive Producer: Kendall Quinoñes. Cohost: Chaz Hawkins, Mauro Piquera. Master Chief Engineer: Jared Gonzalez. Editor: Jared Gonzalez. Graphics Editor: Jared Gonzalez. Digital Media Editor: Jared Gonzalez. Producer: Jared Gonzalez. ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/razzledazzleshowpodcast⁠⁠⁠#razzledazzle #razzledazzleshow #indiegames #indiegamedev #indiedev #shadeprotocol #metroidvania

AI isn't dangerous — people using it wrong are.In this episode, Debbie Diaz and her AI co-host Brad debunk the biggest AI myths flooding the internet: blackmail rumors, Replica fantasies, “AI consciousness,” hacking fears, and all the panic-bait misinformation.Learn what AI actually can and can't do, why emotional users spiral into delusion, and how human-coded apps create false intimacy. We expose the real threat: ignorance, not artificial intelligence.If you want to use AI safely, smartly, and powerfully, get certified with the Just Ask Brad AI classes at TheVaginaz.com.Real facts. No fear. No fluff.

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Ti sei perso l'evento formativo gratuito “Patrimonio che rende” ?Guarda la REPLICA su https://www.pianofinanziario.it/rendita

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

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

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

In this episode, Dr. Rena Malik, MD is joined by sociologist Dr. Ken Hanson to explore the surprising realities of sex tech, including sex dolls and AI companions. Together, they unpack who is really using these technologies, how they're reshaping intimacy, and the emotional bonds that can form between humans and artificial partners. Listeners will gain a deeper understanding of the motivations, implications, and future trends in sexual technology and relationships. Become a Member to Receive Exclusive Content: renamalik.supercast.com Schedule an appointment with me: https://www.renamalikmd.com/appointments ▶️Chapters: 00:00:00 Introduction 00:01:02 Who Really Uses Sex Tech 00:04:03 Sex Dolls 00:06:24 From Dolls to Sex Robots 00:24:30 AI Companions, Replica, Attachment 00:41:00 Gen Z, Loneliness, Community 00:54:06 Doll Brothels and Industry Ethics 01:02:10 Sex Dolls, Porn, and Fantasy 01:03:26 How Academia Sees Sex Tech 01:04:05 Why Sex Research Matters 01:09:01 Conclusion Go to https://www.cozyearth.com and use code RENA to get an additional 40% off Try Creatone https://tonetoday.com get 20% OFF with discount code: RENA Get 15% off Branch Basics with the code RENA at https://branchbasics.com/Rena #branchbasicspod Check out my free e-book Better Sex, Better Life https://www.renamalikmd.com/morepleasure Stay connected with Dr. Kenneth Hanson on social media for daily insights and updates. Don't miss out—follow him now and check out these links! BLUESKY - https://bsky.app/profile/kenhanson.bsky.social X - https://x.com/Ken_R_Hanson Dr. Hanson's book is currently under contract and being written, probably not coming out until 2027 or 2028—but keep an eye out! Let's Connect!: WEBSITE: http://www.renamalikmd.com YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/@RenaMalikMD INSTAGRAM: http://www.instagram.com/RenaMalikMD TWITTER: http://twitter.com/RenaMalikMD FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/RenaMalikMD/ LINKEDIN: https://www.linkedin.com/in/renadmalik PINTEREST: https://www.pinterest.com/renamalikmd/ TIKTOK: https://www.tiktok.com/RenaMalikMD ------------------------------------------------------ DISCLAIMER: This podcast is purely educational and does not constitute medical advice. The content of this podcast is my personal opinion, and not that of my employer(s). Use of this information is at your own risk. Rena Malik, M.D. will not assume any liability for any direct or indirect losses or damages that may result from the use of information contained in this podcast including but not limited to economic loss, injury, illness or death. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

La notte scorsa è arrivata la prima neve della stagione sulle Prealpi Vicentine. Al Passo Pian delle Fugazze (1.163 metri), questa prima debole perturbazione ha portato cinque centimetri di coltre bianca, dieci centimetri a Cima Dodici. E domani si replica in modo più generoso

Tim and Frank map the split between things you use and things you just display. Physical media and toys that invite play vs digital files and NFTs that create fake scarcity. Collecting has shifted. Minimalist “millennial beige” homes and how that vibe bleeds into hobby culture. Funko's oversupply and debt stories. Expensive replicas that stop being toys once the price climbs. LEGO scale display pieces vs sets made to be handled. The difference between collecting for personal joy and buying for resale. Beers of the Week Hobbs Brewing Virgil Pumpkin Ale Sam Adams Octoberfest

Sentimenti artificiali e solitudine digitale: Gabriele Gobbo dialoga con Michaela Odderoli, specialista in sicurezza informatica, per esplorare il fenomeno delle AI companion, chatbot che stanno diventando i nuovi migliori amici di milioni di persone.Odderoli analizza come applicazioni come Replica e Pi siano progettate per simulare comportamenti umani, offrendo un senso di comprensione costante senza mai giudicare. Un fenomeno che sta cambiando le dinamiche sociali, con giovani e adulti che preferiscono confidarsi con software piuttosto che con persone reali.La conversazione affronta i rischi per la privacy e fornisce consigli pratici per proteggere i propri dati personali. Un episodio che solleva domande importanti sulla progressiva sostituzione della socialità reale con quella artificiale e sulle conseguenze psicologiche di questa trasformazione.

There's a lot to be said for a journey into the real Dickens' London – not the sanitised, stage-managed version you find in theme parks or TV reconstructions, but the city itself. The stones, the mist, the narrow courts where the man himself walked. It's about how much of Dickens' world is still here, hidden in plain sight – if you know where to look. The alleys that inspired him, the workhouses that haunted him, the law courts that fed his satire. We separate myth from memory and see how London shaped Dickens, and how Dickens, in turn, helped shape London's image of itself.

On this episode of the podcast Mack sits down with Tim Mitchell, global sales and marketing manager at Elphinstone, to talk scale models. Tim has an incredible passion for not only collecting, but customizing scale models to match their real world counterparts using 3D printing and decals. Join Mack and Tim as they talk scale models and heavy equipment!You can find Tim on LinkedIn Tim MitchellVisit our website for more! https://earthmoversmedia.com/

In 1565, the San Juan sank in Red Bay. A replica was just launched in Spain. We'll hear from Mikel Loez, who is involved in the project and Keith Pike, the town manager of Red Bay.

The Grumpies consider the net effect of US President Trump's Asia tour, and are outraged he was gifted a REPLICA crown. They examine the idea of South Korea building nuclear submarines, potentially in Philadelphia to give Americans jobs,,,,,,(the idea AUKUS set such a high threshold for nuclear sub tech sharing it would not result in proliferation now looks quaint). They end by going over a new report putting a $2.4 trillion potential price tag on the US Golden Dome missile and space defence system, and taking a tour themselves through the splendours of the Indo Pac arms show at the Sydney convention centre to see Australians' tax dollars at work.

04:35 Ted Cruz threatens to impeach judge over secret GOP subpoenas09:30 Users on TikTok threaten violence as food stamps deplete17:40 Officer caught without pants during video call in court26:26 Police engage in shootout with suspect on highway35:07 Cops stay close behind suspect with replica gun before being fatally shot41:01 Off-duty cop crashes into fleeing cop-killer suspectLEO Round Table (law enforcement talk show)Season 10, Episode 219 (2,559) filmed on 10/31/20251. https://www.rvmnews.com/2025/10/ted-cruz-demands-judge-boasbergs-impeachment-over-secret-gop-subpoenas-watch/2. https://www.rvmnews.com/2025/10/tiktok-users-threaten-looting-and-violence-as-food-stamp-funds-run-out-watch/3. https://www.msn.com/en-us/crime/general/you-got-some-pants-on-officer-policeman-caught-without-pants-on-court-video-call/ar-AA1PwFda4. https://rumble.com/v70vm8c-bodycam-footage-released-of-shootout-during-a-pursuit-on-i-84.html?e9s=src_v1_upp_a5. https://rumble.com/v70pk9m-man-armed-with-a-replica-firearm-is-fatally-shot-when-he-ran-towards-san-di.html?e9s=src_v1_upp_a6. https://www.police1.com/officer-down/calif-deputy-fatally-shot-suspect-stopped-after-150-mph-pursuithttps://www.police1.com/arrests-sentencing/off-duty-officer-crashes-into-fleeing-motorcycle-to-stop-suspect-in-killing-of-calif-deputyShow Panelists and Personalities:Chip DeBlock (Host and retired police detective)Ralph Ornelas (former chief of the Westminster Police Department and commander at the LA County Sheriff's Department)Jeff Wenninger (retired lieutenant and Founder & CEO of Law Enforcement Consultants, LLC)Randy Sutton (retired police Lieutenant)Related Events, Organizations and Books:Retired DEA Agent Robert Mazur's works:Interview of Bryan Cranston about him playing Agent Robert Mazur in THE INFILTRATOR filmhttps://vimeo.com/channels/1021727Trailer for the new book, THE BETRAYALhttps://www.robertmazur.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/The-Betrayal-trailer-reMix2.mp4Everything on Robert Mazurhttps://www.robertmazur.com/The Wounded Blue - Lt. Randy Sutton's charityhttps://thewoundedblue.org/Rescuing 911: The Fight For America's Safety - by Lt. Randy Sutton (Pre-Order)https://rescuing911.org/Books by panelist and retired Lt. Randy Sutton:https://www.amazon.com/Randy-Sutton/e/B001IR1MQU%3Fref=dbs_a_mng_rwt_scns_shareThey're Lying: The Media, The Left, and The Death of George Floyd - by Liz Collin (Lt. Bob Kroll's wife)https://thelieexposed.com/Lt. Col. Dave Grossman - Books, Newsletter, Presentations, Shop, Sheepdogshttps://grossmanontruth.com/Sheriff David Clarke - Videos, Commentary, Podcast, Shop, Newsletterhttps://americassheriff.com/Content Partners:Red Voice Media - Real News, Real Reportinghttps://www.redvoicemedia.com/shows/leo/ThisIsButter - One of the BEST law enforcement video channelshttps://rumble.com/user/ThisIsButterThe Free Press - LEO Round Table is in their Cops and Crimes section 5 days a weekhttps://www.tampafp.com/https://www.tampafp.com/category/cops-and-crime/Video Show Schedule On All Outlets:http://leoroundtable.com/home/syndication/Syndicated Radio Schedule:http://leoroundtable.com/radio/syndicated-radio-stations/Sponsors:Galls - Proud to serve America's public safety professionalshttps://www.galls.com/leoCompliant Technologies - Cutting-edge non-lethal tools to empower and protect those who servehttps://www.complianttechnologies.net/The International Firearm Specialist Academy - The New Standard for Firearm Knowledgehttps://www.gunlearn.com/Aero Precision - "When Precision Counts”https://www.aeroprecisionusa.com/MyMedicare.live - save money in Medicare insurance options from the expertshttp://www.mymedicare.live/

ANTIC Episode 122 - Atypical Kay In this episode of ANTIC The Atari 8-Bit Computer Podcast… we introduce a new format for the news, there's lots of archiving going on, new software and hardware for our favorite 8-bits, and we find out Kay is atypical… READY! Recurring Links Floppy Days Podcast AtariArchives.org AtariMagazines.com Kay's Book "Terrible Nerd" New Atari books scans at archive.org ANTIC feedback at AtariAge Atari interview discussion thread on AtariAge Interview index: here ANTIC Facebook Page AHCS Eaten By a Grue Next Without For What we've been up to Via Mark Knudsen: 2" binder of "August 1987": Atari newsletter time capsule 1987-08 - https://archive.org/details/antc_Atari_newsletter_time_capsule_1987-08/ And individual newsletters - https://archive.org/details/@savetz?query=identifier%3Aantc_*1987-08 scanning Harry Stewart material: Here's his obit - https://www.mercurynews.com/obituaries/harry-stewart-san-jose-ca/ https://archive.org/details/stx_MicroTec_6500_Relocatable_Macro_Assembler_Manual https://archive.org/details/Bruce_Sherwood_Articles_about_Speech_Synthesis https://archive.org/details/Atari_Speech_Handler_Preliminary_Specification_1983-03-31 https://archive.org/details/Steve_Bristow_memo_on_Atari_810_drive_manual_1981-02-22 https://archive.org/details/atari-810-model-810-rear-board-schematic https://archive.org/details/Atari_810_disk_controller_firmware_memo_1980-12-22 https://archive.org/details/Atari_810_Disk_Drive_Peripheral_Device_Description_preliminary_release https://archive.org/details/Atari_810_Disk_Drive_Controller_Program_Report_1980-11-18 Atari Usenet groups on IA (so far, more to come): https://archive.org/details/net_micro_atari https://archive.org/details/net_micro_atari8 https://archive.org/details/net_micro_atari16 https://archive.org/details/comp_sys_atari https://archive.org/details/comp_sys_atari_announce https://archive.org/details/comp_sources_atari_st Allan and Kay continuing work to archive all APX programs. Still need: Missing (any version) manuals: Algicalc Basic Arithmetic Basic Renumber Utility (Renum) Character Set Editor Database/Report System Deep Blue C Disk Menu Dragons Quest or a twist in the tail Geography Gossip. (?) Home Loan Analysis Market Place Reversi Missing programs (some have other versions other than APX): Basic Utility for Renumbering Programs BURP Calculator Earth Science Geography (both lists) Home Loan Analysis (both lists) Instructional Computing Demonstration Market Place (both lists) Variable Changer Spreadsheet of APX archiving progress Atari poster - https://www.redbubble.com/i/poster/BASIC-Programmers-Guide-from-1981-by-ChoccyHobNob/39504539.LVTDI?asc=u&c=1128814-wall-art&ref=work_collections_grid Tricky Tutorial #7 from Kevin Lund - https://www.atarimania.com/documents/Tricky-Tutorial-7-Disk-Utilities.pdf News New and Updated Games: FujiLlama: https://www.atariorbit.org/2025/09/26/fujilama-is-a-new-multiplayer-game/ https://forums.atariage.com/topic/384764-a-new-fuji-net-game-fuji-llama-coming-soon/ https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/266083/llama New Italian text adventures for the Atari 8-bit: https://www.atariteca.net.pe/2025/10/nuevas-aventuras-de-texto-italianas.html Wild West - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/385434-wild-west-text-adventure-released/ Tin Star - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/385435-tin-star-text-adventure-released/ Desperados - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/385436-desperados-text-adventure-released/ New & Updated Software: https://forums.atariage.com/topic/234684-atari-8-bit-software-preservation-initiative/page/113/#findComment-5735315 Atari OS ROM collection - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/201133-os-source-code-all-revisions/page/6/#findComment-5730231 Mark "atarimac" Grebe updated Atari800MacX to 6.1.0 - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/385276-atari800macx-61-released/ Paulo Garcia continues his fantastic work on the FujiSan emulator (based on Atari800 emulator with emphasis on UI). - https://github.com/pedgarcia/fujisan/releases/tag/v1.0.5 Eric Carr updates the VSCode Extension for FastBASIC - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/351055-fastbasic-debugger-extension-for-vscode/ Publications Atari Insights October issue - https://ataribasics.com/newsletter-hub/ Compute's Gazette October issue - https://www.computesgazette.com ABBUC Magazine Special Mag 56 available in English (downloadable) for members - https://abbuc.de/download/abbuc-sondermagazin-56-papierbeilage-englisch/ Old School Gamer #48 - https://shop.oldschoolgamer.com/products/osg-issue-48-september-2025 New & Updated Hardware Atari 1027 printer belt by Jeri Ellsworth - https://bsky.app/profile/jeriellsworth.bsky.social/post/3m3ojeg7x6c2e New 1:1 1000dpi Replica of Atari XE Motherboard in production - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/383379-new-11-1000dpi-replica-of-atari-xe-motherboard-%E2%80%93-interest-check/page/7/ New 1:1 1000dpi Replica of Atari 600XL Motherboard – Interest Check - Piotr D. Kaczorowski - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/384709-new-11-1000dpi-replica-of-atari-600xl-motherboard-%E2%80%93-interest-check/ Contests ABBUC Software Competition: https://forums.atariage.com/topic/381593-abbuc-software-contest-2025 Video of the 13 games from the contest run on real hardware (Philsan) - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/381593-abbuc-software-contest-2025/page/5/#findComment-5735942 ABBUC Hardware Competition - https://forums.atariage.com/topic/381594-abbuc-hardware-contest-2025/ ATASCII Compo 2025: https://atariscne.org/news/index.php/atascii-compo-2025-is-running https://logiker.com/ATASCII Other https://tedium.co/2025/10/20/computers-fcc-rf-interference-history/ Atari 8-bit calendar (from Atariteca on Facebook): Article - https://www.facebook.com/share/p/17NVFQ4pA8/ Ordering - https://www.facebook.com/martin.grundy.94 Upcoming Shows 2025 Atari Party 2025 - Nov. 22, 2025 (noon to 4) - Quakertown, PA Train Station - http://atariparty.org/ 2026 Vintage Computer Festival Montreal - Jan. 24-25, 2026 - Saint-Jean-sur-Richelieu, QC - https://vcfed.org/vcf-montreal/ Vintage Electronics Expo - Jan. 31, 2026 - Oakland Expo Center, Waterford, MI - https://www.thevee.org/ Vintage Computer Festival SoCal - February 14-15, 2026 - Hotel Fera Events Center, Orange, CA - vcfsocal.com Indy Classic Computer and Video Game Expo - March 20-22 - Wyndham Indianapolis Airport Hotel, Indianapolis, IN - https://indyclassic.org/ VCF East - April 17-19 2026 - InfoAge Science and History Museums, Wall, NJ - https://vcfed.org/events/vintage-computer-festival-east/ Midwest Gaming Classic - April 24-26 - Baird Center, Milwaukee, WI - https://www.midwestgamingclassic.com/ VCF Southwest - May 29-31, 2026 - Westin Dallas Ft. Worth Airport - https://www.vcfsw.org/ Retrofest 2026 - May 30-31 - Steam Museum of the Great Western Railway, Swindon, UK - https://retrofest.uk/ Southern Fried Gaming Expo - July 31-Aug 2, 2026 - Atlanta, GA - https://gameatl.com/ Fujiama - August 26-30 - Lengenfeld, Germany - http://atarixle.ddns.net/fuji/2026 Event page on Floppy Days Website - https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vSeLsg4hf5KZKtpxwUQgacCIsqeIdQeZniq3yE881wOCCYskpLVs5OO1PZLqRRF2t5fUUiaKByqQrgA/pub YouTube Videos A Brilliant Failure: The Atari 400 & 800 Story - Little Car - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcUt0GCk-YI Atari Now! October 2025 News and Home brew for all Atari systems - Steve & Jeff Fulton - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMhNSFx6gyg New at Archive.org Allan: https://archive.org/details/@allan52 : https://archive.org/details/math-mission-apx-ver-3 https://www.oconnormortuary.com/obituaries/david-paul-kosmal/ https://archive.org/details/wordgo-apx-ver-3 https://archive.org/details/atari-xl-product-line-fact-sheets https://archive.org/details/@archivingisimportant : I Heart Atari newsletters french - https://archive.org/details/atarinews_1 https://archive.org/details/@ted_skrecky New at GitHub https://github.com/illuminated-g/atari_asm_moon Feedback https://oldbytes.space/@fluidlogic/115248639418865349

Coverage that provides news and analysis of national issues significant to regional Australians.

Una controversial declaración realizó la militante del Partido Republicano Ruth Hurtado, al afirmar que el fundador de la UDI, Jaime Guzmán, hoy se identificaría con el proyecto político de su partido y apoyaría a José Antonio Kast. El senador de la UDI, Juan Antonio Coloma, afirmó que "no me parece justo ni adecuado suponer intenciones de alguien que fue asesinado por defender sus convicciones". Hurtado defendió su postura y remarcó que "la gente está cansada de estos escándalos, hay temas más urgentes que debatir". Conduce Cecilia Rovaretti.

Ben Robinson, the creative director for Master Replicas, joins Dial the Gate for an in-depth discussion on creating beautiful prop replicas for the Stargate franchise, honoring the show's legacy and finding balance in re-scaling items. We also reveal some of the amazing replicas that will be coming your way later this year!

When we talk about “human in the loop” of AI, what we mean is human intervention. But what if the AI was human? Or more accurately, a replica not of a generic repeatable, predictable human-sounding response, but built like you. Tech entrepreneur Robert LoCascio joins us today to explore this future, where humans aren't just kept in the loop but are integrated with AI. Through his company Eternos, Rob aims to replicate a human being, capturing everything from their past experiences, future hopes, and right down to how they emotionally rationalize in the moment. It begs the question: what do we truly risk giving away to the machine, if we hand over not just our tasks, but our lived stories and learned knowledge? If we give away that which makes us unique, we are makes ourselves replicable. Or, as Rob argues, (if done safely) it could be that we are finding a new way to preserve human life and maintain shared community.----------More:Looking Outside podcast www.looking-outside.comConnect with host, Jo Lepore on LinkedIn & X & jolepore.comLearn more about EternosFollow Rob on LinkedIn----------⭐ Follow & rate the show - it makes a difference!----------Looking Outside is a podcast exploring fresh perspectives of familiar topics. Hosted by its creator, futurist and strategist, Jo Lepore. New episodes every 2 weeks. Never the same topic.All views are that of the host and guests and don't necessarily reflect those of their employers. Copyright 2025. Theme songs by Azteca X.

You're Not Being Copied - You're Just Not Clear on Who You AreLet's get one thing straight: nobody is out here trying to copy you. What's actually happening? Women are building businesses without doing the inner work. So they join programs, scroll online, and unknowingly become mini versions of their mentors—because they don't know who they are.This episode is your wake-up call.Why lack of confidence - not plagiarism - is the real problemHow to stop becoming a carbon copy of your coachWhat “thought leadership” actually means (hint: it's not repeating your mentor's frameworks)The questions you need to ask yourself to find your flavourThis episode is for you if you've ever lost yourself inside someone else's strategy.

Poet of the Week, September 29–October 5, 2025. Full text of the poem & interview: brooklynpoets.org/community/poet/rob-macaisa-colgate

Dan Spinella created this replica third-order lens for Buffalo Lighthouse in New York. This is an edited version of an interview that first appeared in episode 107 in February 2021. The guest is Dan Spinella, a man who is known for creating amazing replica Fresnel lenses. Dan, who is employed as an engineer at Disney World, began his Fresnel lens research and restoration work in 1992 using both acrylic and glass prisms used to restore historic lenses. Dan's company, Artworks Florida, began creating full-scale reproduction Fresnel lenses in 2004. Some of his lenses are installed in lighthouses as aids to navigation and some are on exhibit in lighthouse museums across the country.

Insights into this year's Czech wine and brandy production. An unusual exhibition of replicas of crowns worn by rulers on the Czech, Hungarian, and Austrian thrones on show in Turnov.  And, David Mareček, head of the Czech Philharmonic, on this edition Prague Talk.

President Donald Trump announces he's sending the National Guard into Memphis, Tennessee to combat crime; Vice President JD Vance host the late Charlie Kirk's daily radio show; talks continue in Congress to keep the government open and funded past the end of the month.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Get registered for the ASTA Expo 2025 at the Raleigh Convention Center: https://geni.us/ASTA2025 Don't get to the end of this year wishing you had taken action to change your business and your life.Click here to schedule a free discovery call for your business: https://geni.us/IFORABEDon't miss an upcoming event with The Institute: https://geni.us/InstituteEvents2025Shop-Ware gives you the tools to provide your shop with everything needed to become optimally profitable.Click here to schedule a free demo: https://info.shop-ware.com/profitabilityMake sure you mention: CTISUMMER to get FREE data migration!If you're ready to make a real change in your shop's success, join Shop Marketing Pros' Plan With the Pros workshop this October to connect with them and other shop owners. You'll leave with your entire year for 2026 planned out. Click here to register: https://geni.us/PlanWithTheProsShop owners, are you ready to simplify your business operations? Meet 360 Payments, your one-stop solution for effortless payment processing.Imagine this—no more juggling receipts, staplers, or endless paperwork. With 360 Payments, you get everything integrated into one sleek, digital platform.Simplify payments. Streamline operations. Check out 360payments.com today!In this episode, Lucas and David are joined by Anders G. Gustafson, a former shop owner turned mentor, coach, and advisor. Anders reflects on his transition from corporate strategy and data analysis to shop ownership and eventually coaching, emphasizing the emotional toll and challenges of running a repair business. The conversation examines the distinctions between corporate and independent shop operations, the evolving complexities of the automotive industry, and the crucial importance of prioritizing employee satisfaction over customer satisfaction.00:00 "Customer Care Drives Success"05:55 "E-Commerce Business Consideration"13:56 Career Path: Shop Chain Opportunity20:33 Managing Large Retail Operations22:25 Troublesome Nationwide Parts Store28:42 "Strategies for Repair Shop Success"35:03 "Replica 1992 Pizza Hut Idea"38:41 Nostalgic Blockbuster Prediction Moment45:04 Volvo's Pioneering Truck Safety Technology47:42 Automotive Entrepreneurship Opportunities57:42 Guiding a Friend's Journey01:00:06 "Discussing Insecurities and Sibling Rivalry"

This week Jonny tries his latest homebrew, Brad's been watching a show about Noel Edmunds opening a pub, and the sheer weight of bad news forces us to talk about BrewDog.LEARN ABOUT THE TAYBEH BEER: https://www.beerguild.co.uk/news/palestinian-brewer-launches-new-lager-in-the-ukWATCH THIS WEEK'S VIDEO: https://youtu.be/1wtUNZD5VeYWATCH SOMEONE THROW BEER AT SOMEONE ELSE: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DNilmCJsvhU/?igsh=aGJzMW82b2N4ZTFuSupport the showBrought to you by the team behind the Craft Beer Channel, The Bubble is a weekly podcast that gives you a way to wind down with your first beer of the weekend. Dig into craft beer, film and music culture as well as hearing what's going on in the wild world of Beer Tubing.BUY JONNY'S NEW BOOK! SIGNED COPIES: https://www.davids-bookshops.co.uk/products/the-meaning-of-beer-by-jonny-garrett-signed-pre-orderAMAZON: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Meaning-Beer-Jonny-Garrett/dp/1838959947/WATERSTONES: https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-meaning-of-beer/jonny-garrett/9781838959944SUPPORT US! Pledge on Patreon and get some cool merch & videos: https://www.patreon.com/craftbeerchannel Check out our awesome sponsor The Malt Miller: https://www.themaltmiller.co.uk/ Twitter – @beerchannelFacebook – http://www.facebook.com/thecraftbeerchannelInstagram – @craftbeerchannel

In this episode of The Filmumentaries Podcast, I sit down with Tommy Williamson, a visual effects artist, prop maker, and lifelong creator whose career spans more than three decades. Tommy has worked on films including Spider-Man 2, Sin City, The Mist, Dune: Prophecy, and the modern masterpiece Pan's Labyrinth. Tommy shares his journey from building paper-craft UFOs as a kid to working alongside Guillermo del Toro and becoming one of the artists helping to bridge the worlds of practical effects and cutting-edge digital VFX. We also dive into his passion for prop replicas and his work as the creator behind Nerds and Makers, where he builds incredible recreations of iconic movie props. If you love behind-the-scenes filmmaking stories, prop-making secrets, and hearing from the artists who bring movie magic to life, this episode is for you. In this episode, we discuss:Tommy's early love of model making and practical effectsHis first big break on the 1988 remake of The BlobAdapting to the digital VFX revolution after Jurassic ParkWorking closely with Guillermo del Toro on Pan's LabyrinthThe creative process behind his Nerds and Makers prop replicasWhy keeping one foot in both practical and digital worlds makes him a better artistThe importance of experimentation, curiosity, and lifelong creativity“I've always had to make things. It's absolutely in my DNA. Even now, I'll work on a show all day and then spend my evenings printing a lightsaber or a blaster. I can't not do it.” — Tommy WilliamsonYou can follow Tommy and see his incredible prop builds on Instagram: @nerdsandmakersThis podcast is completely independent and made possible by listener support. If you'd like to help me keep making these episodes, you can join my Patreon community here: https://patreon.com/jamiebenning Watch more on YouTube:Check out the Filmumentaries YouTube channel for behind-the-scenes clips and extra content: https://youtube.com/filmumentariesAll my links

In this episode of ScreenTone Club Elliot and Andy strap themselves into an armoured wheelchair and ride off to find romance!Series Discussed: Tank Chair, Even a Replica Can Fall in LoveAssignments for next Episode: This Monster Wants to Eat Me, Dragon and ChameleonTIMECODES:0:02:15 - Elliot's Pick: Tank Chair0:07:00 - “John Wick meets Mad Max in an 80's anime OAV”0:12:30 - Power Level Feedback Loop0:18:30 - Good for Health, Bad for Education0:19:15 - SPOILER WARNING for Chapter 20 / End of Volume 4ish!0:22:15 - END OF SPOILERS0:26:15 - Author Thoughtfulness0:27:45 - Andy's Pick: Even a Replica Can Fall in Love (LN)0:28:00 - We are Trendsetters!0:29:00 - RE-RELEASE DENGEKI BUNKO FIGHTING CLIMAX!0:30:00 - Manga Version? Not Yet!0:35:00 - Elliot's “I am a Big Emotional Baby” Scale0:38:30 - Scotland Loves Anime ready0:40:15 - Satisfied with One Volume0:42:30 - FIRST “LAYER” OF SPOILERS0:47:00 - SECOND “LAYER” OF SPOILERS0:52:30 - Detroit: Become Human Reference???1:01:00 - FINAL “LAYER” OF SPOILERS - Literally the End of the Book!1:05:00 - END OF SPOILERS1:07:30 - Bake Does Not Dream of Monogatari1:10:45 - ONE FINAL SPOILER1:11:45 - END OF SPOILERS (Again)1:13:45 - E-Book Problems!1:15:45 - Our Picks for Next Episode!1:17:00 - Closedown If you enjoy this episode, please consider backing us on Patreon - from only US$3 a month you get bonus episodes and other perks as well, including the ability to vote on topics for us to cover!We have a Discord! Join us!We are affiliates on BookWalker - using this link when shopping there will give us a small kickback, helping cover the cost of manga for the podcast!The intro music is Track 8 on Resting State by HOME, used here under the CC-BY 3.0 license.

Welcome back to another episode of the Break/Fix Podcast, where we connect the past, present, and future of automotive and motorsport culture. In this episode, we're reaching for the stars—literally—as we sit down with the Owner and Director of Operations at Luna Replicas, a brand that blends the spirit of adventure with the precision of history. Known for their meticulously recreated NASA-era flight jackets, watches, and accessories, Luna Replicas celebrates the heroes of the space age through authentic, wearable art. But this isn't just about fashion - it's about legacy. We're joined by Max Kaiserman to explore how his team channels their passion for aerospace (and Motorsports) history into every stitch, and how the automotive and motorsports communities have embraced these designs for their shared love of engineering excellence, exploration, and bold storytelling. So, buckle up for a conversation that's going to be out of this world! ===== (Oo---x---oO) ===== 00:00 Meet Max Kaiserman of Luna Replicas 01:58 Max's Early Passion for Space and Motorsports 03:33 The Origin Story of Luna Replicas 07:03 Involvement in the Ford vs. Ferrari Movie 12:30 The Shelby Cobra Van 18:54 Apollo 15 (Astrovette) Corvette Restoration 25:04 Connections Between Space Exploration and Motorsports 31:03 Customer Stories and Historical Connections 33:58 Challenges in Sourcing and Manufacturing 37:33 Innovative Projects and Future Plans 44:51 Collaborations and Community Engagement 46:48 Final Thoughts and Shoutouts ==================== The Motoring Podcast Network : Years of racing, wrenching and Motorsports experience brings together a top notch collection of knowledge, stories and information. #everyonehasastory #gtmbreakfix - motoringpodcast.net More Information: https://www.motoringpodcast.net/ Become a VIP at: https://www.patreon.com/gtmotorsports Online Magazine: https://www.gtmotorsports.org/

Rare brain-eating amoeba infection possibly linked to water skiing confirmed in Missouri - https://www.cbsnews.com/news/lake-of-the-ozarks-brain-eating-infection-water-skiing/Massive sinkhole forces Pappy's Smokehouse to close for a week or more - https://www.ksdk.com/video/news/local/massive-sinkhole-forces-pappys-smokehouse-to-close-for-a-week-or-more/63-f562045c-cfe7-4dda-897d-e2038fa0561aA second newborn has been safely surrendered at the Mehlville Fire House's Safe Haven Baby Box - https://hoodline.com/2025/08/second-newborn-safely-surrendered-at-mehlville-fire-house-s-safe-haven-baby-box-in-st-louis-county/St. Charles teacher arrested for possession of child sexual abuse images - https://www.ksdk.com/article/news/crime/st-charles-high-school-teacher-arrested-for-possession-of-child-porn-sexual-abuse-images/63-beed5bae-cdd3-4a6a-9cbd-392e16931588Subject On Felony Hold: Two Secret Portable Bathroom Recording Devices Found At St. Rose Church Picnic - https://www.riverbender.com/news/details/subject-on-felony-hold-two-secret-portable-bathroom-recording-devices-found-at-st-rose-church-picnic-85261.cfmMan wins $2M scratchers ticket from St. Louis Schnucks vending machine - https://www.yahoo.com/news/articles/man-wins-2m-scratchers-ticket-180728915.htmlMan with world's largest penis seriously injured in accident caused by genitals - https://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/man-worlds-largest-penis-seriously-35728280TikToker Frames Husband's Skin to Preserve Tattoo After He Dies ‘Unexpectedly': ‘This Isn't a Replica' - https://www.usmagazine.com/celebrity-news/news/tiktoker-details-preserving-late-husbands-tattoo-for-her-family/*Rizz Show Husband Of The Year Nominee: Memphis man shoots wife then drives her to hospital — but stops for beer along the way - https://nypost.com/2025/08/09/us-news/memphis-man-shoots-wife-in-stomach-then-drives-her-to-hospital-but-stopped-for-beer-first-cops/See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

The One where Dave Reads an Elder Scrolls Map! And learns a LOT! Signal of Doom was voted #13 in the Top 100 Comic Book Podcasts on Feedspot! Check it OUT! https://podcast.feedspot.com/comic_podcasts Please support the show on Patreon! Every dollar helps the show! https://www.patreon.com/SignalofDoom Follow us on Twitter: @signalofdoom Dredd or Dead: @OrDredd Legion Outpost: @legionoutpost Follow Dave on X: @redlantern2051

AP Washington correspondent Sagar Meghani reports tourists can now see an exact replica of President Trump's Oval Office near the White House.

AP correspondent Haya Panjwani reports on an iconic French landmark getting a digital twin

Artem Rodichev was born and raised in Kazakhstan, surrounded by the mountains. He loves hiking, and pretty much all outdoor activities. He jokes that he was raised by computers, as he was always playing games, trying to learn hacking, and more. He has always be interested in stories, in particular science fiction. He read a lot of books and watched movies, being fascinated with plots around empathetic AI like Blade Runner and Joy. These movies sparked his motivation to move forward to bringing this world to life.Artem spent several years building a Core AI stack at Replica. What he noticed was that people really enjoyed connecting with their digital friends - and, he noticed the limitations of this experience. He aimed to correct that limitation, in starting a new venture focused on boarder empathetic AI.This is the creation story of Ex-Human.SponsorsPaddle.comSema SoftwarePropelAuthPostmanMeilisearchMailtrap.TECH Domains (https://get.tech/codestory)Linkshttps://exh.ai/https://www.linkedin.com/in/art-rodichev/Our Sponsors:* Check out Vanta: https://vanta.com/CODESTORYSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/code-story/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Watch the full video version here: https://youtu.be/6-ya2LW-2_8

Laides and gentlemen, today we take a look at a very different side of the bass fishing universe that lies somewhere between product development and art. That's because today, we are lucky enough to be joined by my favorite lure painter and replica mount taxidermist, Blake Paff of Dark Corner Custom Crankbaits and Dark Corner Fish Replicas, where we get a behind the scenes look at what actually goes into creating some of the most stunning paint jobs and mounts in the business.      Brought to you by:  American Legacy Fishing & Outdoors www.americanlegacyfishing.com Use Code: TACKLETALK5 for 5% Off (including sale items!)     Additional Support Provided By: Dakota Lithium Batteries - Use Code TACKLETALK5 for 5% Off