Podcasts about Sagamore

Send us a textThis week on Golfweek Amateur Tour – The Podcast, Tim and Chris tee up an episode full of community spirit, competitive fire, and a few rulebook reminders just in time for Father's Day and the U.S. Open. We spotlight May Member of the Month Ryan Nicholson, who's already played 15 amateur golf tournaments this season, traveling across state lines and representing the Indianapolis Tour with passion and positivity. Hear about his favorite courses—from Firestone to Notre Dame's Warren Course—and why French Lick Resort is still on his radar as a must-play.Indianapolis Tour Director Amal Irudayaraj shares how he's grown his tour to 125+ members in a compressed season by building relationships with premier golf courses like Sagamore and Chatham Hills. His commitment to creating a competitive golf environment that's also welcoming shines through.Then, USGA Rules Official Roger joins the conversation for a breakdown of what to do when you're stuck with an unplayable ball in a bunker. He also weighs in on club throwing, sportsmanship, and how local golf tours can maintain integrity while keeping the game fun.Plus, Tim and Chris reflect on how tour directors around the country are ramping up engagement with player spotlights, social media, and recognition programs—all reinforcing the Golfweek Amateur Tour's core: Where Amateurs Play Like Pros!Key Topics Covered:  - Ryan Nicholson's 15-event journey and favorite courses  - Growth of the Indianapolis Tour under Amal Irudayaraj  - Why access to top-tier courses matters  - USGA Rules insights: Unplayable ball relief options & conduct expectations  - Father's Day reflections & U.S. Open buzz  - Community-building through player recognition and nominationsCall to Action:Whether you're new to the Golfweek Amateur Tour or a returning member ready to make this season your best, head to amateurgolftour.net or senioramateurgolftour.net to join your local tour. And don't forget to follow us for more episodes of the Golfweek Amateur Tour - The Podcast. Support the showPodcast HomepageGolfweek Amateur TourSenior Amateur TourFacebookYouTubeSrixonJondo Sunglasses

Leading the Revival of Maryland Rye This week on the Whiskey Ring Podcast, I got to cross off another long-awaited guest: Sagamore Spirit. Situated harborside in downtown Baltimore, Sagamore's campus is among the more beautiful I've visited. The 5-acre plot centers around Penny, their 40' copper column still, which has (almost) single-handedly managed their transition from MGP-sourced rye to 100% Maryland-distilled rye, which now fills the vast majority of their bottles.  Few brands have moved from sourcing to their own distillate as seamlessly or as transparently. Along the way, Sagamore Spirit (no "s" because they'll only ever make one) has played with numerous finishes, including award-winning port cask and unique mead and beer finishes from nearby partners. Not to mention their one-off Calvados-finished Rye, which I still rank as one of the best pours I've ever had.  Sagamore is no longer alone in their promotion of Maryland Rye, with previous guests like Baltimore Spirits Co. also flying the banner, but it's hard to argue that Sagamore isn't leading the way, whether by volume, shelf space, or distribution reach. Ryan Norwood has been with Sagamore for several years and joins me to talk hospitality, building a rye brand for Maryland starting with Indiana distillate, and how their ongoing connection to the Vanderbilt-owned Sagamore Farm informs their branding, bottles, and their surprising decision to leave horses off the label.  Thank you to Ryan for entering the Whiskey Ring! Thanks to our Presenting Sponsor, BAXUS Baxus is the world's leading collectible spirits marketplace, with user-friendly options for buyers, sellers, and collectors looking to vault their collections. Use my link below to visit the BAXUS.CO website and sign up!  BAXUS Website BAXUS on Instagram BAXUS on Facebook BAXUS on Twitter/X BAXUS on LinkedIn _________________________________________________________ If you haven't joined the Patreon community yet, please consider doing so at patreon.com/whiskeyinmyweddingring The Bottle Share Club - the $25/month Patreon level - is SOLD OUT! You can still support the podcast for as little as $1/month, and $5/month patrons will have first dibs if a $25/month member retires.  If you haven't yet, please follow Whiskey in my Wedding Ring and the Whiskey Ring Podcast on Instagram and Facebook, and subscribe to the newsletter on the website.  Sagamore Spirit Sagamore Spirit Website Sagamore Spirit on Instagram Sagamore Spirit on Facebook Sagamore Spirit on LinkedIn Sagamore Spirit on YouTube Sagamore Spirit on X  

Hanna, Andy, and Fish discuss planned extensive renovations planned for the Sagamore and Bourne Bridges, and are worried about the potential effects of budget cuts to the National Park Service to the Cape Cod National Seashore. Intro music is from "Across the Line" by the Wellington Sea Shanty Society.

You're listening to Bardtenders!In this episode of The Mixing Glass, Clint Spotleson joins the Bardtenders to talk about his career in the hospitality industry, the evolution of the Phoenix, Arizona cocktail scene, his time spent at Herbs & Rye in Las Vegas, and the history of Sagamore Rye whiskey! ------------Clint Spotleson grew up in Phoenix, AZ and has spent 20+ years in the bar industry, helping build the Phoenix cocktail scene. Early in his career, Clint got involved with Camp Runamok, where he built a love for whiskey, which eventually led to an opportunity to work with WhistlePig Rye in 2016.  Clint left Whistlepig in 2017 for a five-year stint in Vegas at Herbs & Rye, before returning home to Phoenix in late 2021. After some time with Kimpton Hotels, Clint made the decision to officially make the move out from behind the bar, where he ultimately landed his dream role as the Global Advocacy & Engagement Manager with Sagamore Rye.Sagamore Rye has been around since 2013, where they initially bought their rye from MGP while starting up. In 2017 they opened our distillery in Baltimore, Maryland and have been producing our own rye ever since. We use a double mashbill recipe, a 95/5 (rye/ malted barley) high rye and a 52/43/5 (rye/ corn/ malted barley) low rye to create a rye that lines up with what you found historically in Maryland. We work hand in hand with local farmers to be a 100% Grain-to-Glass Maryland Rye Whiskey.------------Don't miss out on any of the action!  Head to www.bardtender.com to stay up to date with all of the Bardtender content, find resources for mental and physical wellbeing, get access to education materials, and check out what all of our bards are up to! You can also check out our Linktree at https://linktr.ee/Bardtenders to find ways to listen to the show, join our Discord, or subscribe to our Patreon for bonus content, ad-free episodes, and so much more! 

Step back in time to an era of lavish retreats and untamed wilderness. In this episode, we uncover the rich history of the iconic Adirondack great camp Sagamore—once the private getaway of the Vanderbilt family. Explore the intriguing blend of luxury and nature, shaping a unique legacy of rustic elegance. From grand lodges to hidden trails, we explore Sagamore's stories, architecture, and its enduring impact. Whether you're a history buff or a lover of the Adirondacks, this is one adventure you won't want to miss.For more information.Learn more about the topics we discuss:Great Camp Sagamore“Adventures in the wilderness, or, Camp-life in the Adirondacks” by W. H. H. MurrayAlfred Gwynne VanderbiltMargaret Emerson VanderbiltGrandparent & Grandchild CampAlso mentioned in this podcast:Adirondack ExperienceGiant MountainWestport, NYBallard Park in WestportADK Talks is brought to you by ADK Taste. We provide insight on the best places to stay, shop, eat, and do things in the 6-million-acre Adirondack Park in upstate New York. Visit our website, ADKtaste.com, and sign up for our weekly newsletter.Do you have questions or comments? We'd love to hear from you! Email us at info@adktaste.com.

Please be aware that this conversation contains references to sexual abuse and suicide....Where in your life can you create the conditions for tenderness?...In 1989, Richard Propes left downtown Indianapolis in his wheelchair with $20 in his pocket, a backpack on his wheelchair, and a handful of press releases announcing his "Tenderness Tour." A paraplegic/double amputee born with spina bifida, Propes traveled for 41 days and over 1,000 miles alone around Indiana in an effort to look for good in the world after a life that had been defined by disability, sexual abuse, and the recent suicide of his wife and death of his newborn daughter. He returned from that successful journey determined to break his own cycles of abuse and to do what he could do to make the world a better and safer place for everyone. 35 years later, Propes has traveled over 6,000 miles by wheelchair, raised over $1 million for charitable organizations worldwide, and is living what he calls his "good life." Propes is the founder of the Race Away From Domestic Violence, a 5k event in Indianapolis raising funds for the Indiana Coalition Against Domestic Violence, and is the author of The Hallelujah Life. Propes graduated summa cum laude from Martin University and is a graduate of Bethany Theological Seminary. He's the founder of TheIndependentCritic.com and is a member of the Indiana Film Journalists Association with his reviews carried by Rotten Tomatoes. Richard currently serves as the director of provider services for the Bureau of Disabilities Services (state of Indiana) and has produced a wide variety of fundraising events including poetry readings, concerts, the benefit CD "Give a Girl a Chance," the IndyFringe show "Laughing Sober," and served as executive producer of comic Rick Garrett's comedy DVD "Straight Outta Cowan." Richard has received numerous honors for his violence prevention work and disability advocacy including Indiana Minority Business Magazine's "Champions of Diversity" Award, Indiana's Sagamore of the Wabash, Prevent Child Abuse America's highest honor the Donna J. Stone Award, and the Jefferson Award. Academy Award-qualifying Heartland International Film Festival and Indy Shorts both present the Richard D. Propes Social Impact Award annually to filmmakers whose works exemplify a dedication to social impact. Having beaten cancer twice in the past year, Richard just completed a 160-mile wheelchair ride in September 2024 that raised $115,000 and eliminated nearly $17 million in medical debt for hoosiers.Today, Abbie and Richard discuss the creation and evolution of the Tenderness Tour, un-defining and redefining love, and learning to embrace the beautiful complexity that is interdependence. ...Stories Lived. Stories Told. is created, produced & hosted by Abbie VanMeter.Stories Lived. Stories Told. is an initiative of the CMM Institute for Personal and Social Evolution....Music for Stories Lived. Stories Told. is created by Rik Spann....⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Explore all things Stories Lived. Stories Told. here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠.Explore all things CMM Institute here.

The boys are back after being banned by YouTube! We discuss the drawbacks of YouTube's new censorship model. How it effected our channel and how it applies to other content creators. This all went down while we enjoy the La Flor Dominicana 30th Anniversary. Patrol Gone Wild this week brings us a Wisconsin couple getting down and dirty in a laundromat, a Brad Pitt AI scam, and a Hooters girl willing to do annnyyything to get out of trouble. Caleb's back with news this week with a packaging update from La Aurora, a new release from Patina, and lastly a new expression from Sagamore. Cigar: LFD 30th Anniversary Whiskey: Wyoming Whiskey National Parks # 3 Cigars and whiskey were purchased by Down To Herf Podcast. A huge thank you to our show sponsors Crowned Heads Cigars, Dunbarton Tobacco and Trust, and Small Batch Cigars! Make sure you're checking them out for all of your cigar needs! https://www.crownedheads.com https://www.dunbartoncigars.com https://www.smallbatchcigar.com Use Code "HERF" For 10% off your order (Some Exclusions Apply) SUBSCRIBE TO OUR YOUTUBE CHANNEL AND WATCH ALL OF OUR EPISODES IN STUDIO! Join The After Herf Show on Patreon Now! Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/DownToHerfPodcast Visit our Social Media Pages for News and More! Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/downtoherfpodcast/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/downtoherfpodcast/

Breaking the Silence with host Dr. Gregory Williams With Guest, Award-winning writer, author of Water Music a Cape Cod Story, Marcia Peck This week's Special Guest will be Marcia Peck. "Marica is the author of Water Music: A Cape Cod Story." She is an award-winning writer and has received many awards. Her articles have appeared in Musical America, Strad Magazine, Strings Magazine, and Senza Sordino. Her work has been supported by The Minnesota State Arts Board, The Loft Literary Center, Ragdale Foundation and Hambidge Center. Guest, Marcia Peck's book, Water Music, The bridge at Sagamore was closed when we got there that summer of 1956. We had to cross the canal at Buzzards Bay over the only other roadway that tethered Cape Cod to the mainland. Thus twelve-year-old Lily Grainger, while safe from ‘communists and the Pope', finds her family suddenly adrift. That was the summer the Andrea Doria sank, pilot whales stranded, and Lily's father built a house he couldn't afford. Target practice on a nearby decommissioned Liberty Ship echoed not only the rancor in her parents' marriage, a rancor stoked by Lily's competitive uncle, but also Lily's troubles with her sister, her cousins, and especially with her mother. In her increasingly desperate efforts to salvage her parents' marriage, Lily discovers betrayals beyond her understanding as well as the small ways in which people try to rescue each other. She draws on her music lessons and her love of Cape Cod—from Sagamore and Monomoy to Nauset Spit and Wellfleet Dunes, seeking safe passage from the limited world of her salt marsh to the larger, open ocean.

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. "In her, shoot fast," Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, "I want in her, my first use to take.""First use?!" Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto's big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn't have long to contemplate that."That is no problem at all, my lord!" Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb."Oh, Great Justice!" Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping."I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem," he said, gesturing towards Americana's cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs."Very good!" Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. "This," he said, squeezing Americana's bulging silky cheeks, "is a very rich gift, indeed!"With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her."Oh, my God," Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief's enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt."That's a sin!" one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives' largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit's great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem's honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana's flesh.The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men's faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.In between their own turns upon Miss Americana's body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana's muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty."Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?" one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana's enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. "I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing."The Pilgrim shook his head. "Nah," he said. "God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it's pretty clear what he made this one for."Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana's giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine's hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips."Well, that and this!" he said, as he held the glass up.Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow's produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana's belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them."I say Reverend," the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana's continuing show. "Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.""True," the Reverend said. "But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?""There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched," the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. "I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?""Hmm," the Reverend Brewster said. "Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once." As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims' faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. "However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement," he added, "it is not just God who must be consulted."As it happened, the Reverend's own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend's sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each."What say you, Mary?" the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything."Hmm," Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband."I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release," she said. "So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!" She lifted up a finger and glared."Of course," Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana's moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded."There is one other condition," she added, hastily. "We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated." She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. "So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?"The two junior Pilgrims' eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing."Good heavens!" the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips."Is, is that permitted under Heaven's law, Reverend?" the short one asked."Uh," Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. "To be honest," he said, "I'm not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,""Then there should be no problem, should there?" Mary asked testily."I guess not," he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God's forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife's, on the other hand,Of course, before the natives 'peace offering' could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line."Open wide, and say your grace," he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically."Oh, yes!" Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. "T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!" he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster's pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana's marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women's' hastily re-lowered skirts.So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation' that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot's open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.But she didn't have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives' outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done."Oh!" one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl's' practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary's labia, and felt the Reverend's hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle."Just so you know, Miss Americana," she heard Flag Girl's voice say, excitedly, "the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President." The events she was getting to witness through the professor's Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. "Isn't that cool?!" Americana heard her squeal.Americana whimpered. "Wonderful," she managed to moan into Mary Brewster's cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl's tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims' 'peace offering'.Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn't seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it."Shall we clean this mess up?" Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. "No need," he said."It can wait until morning," Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. "Everyone is very tired and content.""Especially her!" Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh."Should we post a guard on her then?" Governor Bradford asked.Massasoit again shook his head."The Sachem's warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods," Squanto advised. "No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?""Good point," Governor Bradford admitted. "So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?"At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. "Now this, is a good idea!" he said.With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor's house, to continue their conversation.Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns squished against the rough-hewn planks of the table, and huge tits rising and falling in the cool Massachusetts night, she could make no other move.At last, everyone nearby had either left or fallen asleep, and the coast was clear. Miss Americana's body began to glow. Her bikini, having been passed around and marveled at by various members of the party before being finally added as decorative elements to the top of the main centerpiece, glowed as well. Her chain, which had been secured to one leg of the table some time ago, did not.With a flash she was gone, leaving the Plymouth colony as mysteriously as she had entered it. The chain, disturbed by the wind of her passage, clanked to the ground. Pilgrims and natives alike would find it empty in the morning and assume that against all odds the 'harem girl' had managed to slip away in the night, and was probably therefore a witch after all. But, having already gotten very full use of her cunt, and since the blame for this could only rest primarily on his own sleepy sentries, Massasoit would not fault the Pilgrims for this and the treaty would not again be endangered. History, such as it was, for better or worse, was saved.Back in the current time, Flag Girl stood by, shivering nervously, as she watched the professor work the controls. A shining form slowly appeared upon the platform, a sprawled and shapely silhouette laid out spread-eagled atop it. Two smaller blobs appeared beside her, for her retrieved bra and panties.Then, with a last flash, the reverse time passage was complete. The machine hummed down, as Miss Americana and her discarded costume lay quivering upon the platform, once more in the flesh."Oh, thank the Goddess!" Flag Girl gasped, rushing forward in relief. Then, halfway to embracing her mistress, she suddenly gasped, skidded to a halt and froze. "Wha-what?" she gasped."Oh, yes," the Professor said. Looking down upon Americana from the control station beside the platform, he scratched his head sheepishly. "Yes, sometimes the time particles have, odd effects like this."Upon the platform Miss Americana groaned. Having recovered some of her strength and energy during the passage back, she lifted her head. She gasped, her curvy naked body rolling back and forth upon the platform, as rivers of semen continued to drip off it. Then, lifting one hand up to hold her head, she raised the other to comfortingly caress her aching belly, and then suddenly let out a loud yelp."Wha- what the?!" Miss Americana gasped.Lifting up her trembling gloved hand, she raised her head and stared down between her breasts in shock. There, rising up before her, which her fingers had unexpectedly encountered, her once-flat belly had already started to swell upwards considerably. She was six or seven months' pregnant, at least."Oh, Gah-Great Justice!" Miss Americana groaned, staring at her own enormous belly in disbelief."What, what happened?" Flag Girl squealed, hands over her lips."As I said," the professor said. Picking up a hand-held bio-scanner, he leaned over and began using it to examine Miss Americana's swollen belly. "The time-stream can have, odd effects sometimes. The exterior didn't age a day, if the still-runny and viable state of all this semen is any indication. The inside, well," He shrugged.Miss Americana shook her head, eyes glued to her impregnated body. As the Professor had stated, despite the advanced state of her pregnancy, streamers of seemingly fresh and gooey cum continued to flow out of her ravaged cunt lips, down onto the platform, spreading around her buxom buns."There's, there's no way my sonic device can deal with this," she whimpered. "Could you get me to Doctor Lingam fast? Maybe, maybe she could still fix this for me.""Maybe," the Professor admitted, still studying his scanner. "The time particles may make that more complicated than expected. But regardless of one's normal feelings on that practice, I think it might be considered a particularly sticky matter in this case, regardless.""What, what are you talking about, Professor?" the Queen of Justice gasped.He pointed at his scanner readout. "The other half of the genetic material in your womb matches no known human bloodline," he said. "Do you know what that means?"Miss Americana shook her head, glaring up at him furiously. "No of course not!" she said. "But since it's god-damn inside of me, just tell me!""The Native American known as Squanto," the Professor said, still looking over his readings with clinical detachment, "he was the one who had the first crack at your cunt, correct? And he was among the longest of those who fucked you, based on what we saw on the viewer, so if anyone's sperm reached your egg first, it was probably his. Correct?""Yes!" Americana said. She squirmed in particular, at the mention of the native interpreter's long cock, as it promptly dragged up deep memories of what it had felt like inside her. "Get to the point!" she said, naming an activity that none of the natives who had fucked her, least of all Squanto himself, had had any trouble at all doing within her."Well," he said. "In history as we previously understood it, the Pawtuxet tribe was entirely wiped out by disease save for one survivor. That would be Squanto. History tells us that he succumbed to European diseases himself shortly after the First Thanksgiving, and fathered no known children, thus making him the very last of his people."Turning it around, he showed her the readings on his bio-scanner."Until now," he said.Americana stared at the readings on the scanner in shock. In addition to all the genetic readings it also revealed to her that Squanto had gotten a jump on repopulating his tribe in another way as well. It wasn't one baby inside her, it was twins. Both boys. She turned and looked at her impregnated belly. Then she looked back at the scanner."Oh, oh shit," she whispered softly.Flag Girl suddenly started bouncing eagerly on her heels, having finally processed with her limited teen brainpower what the adults were talking about. "Oh, yay, Miss A!" she squealed. "You're going to be, like, the step-mother of an entire nation! Isn't that so cool?"Her face shivering in horror and wonder behind her star-spangled patriotic mask, Miss Americana shivered. "Oh, oh my fucking God!" she moaned.Overcome by the implications, she slumped back down onto the platform, her buxom naked body once more too overcome by what was happening to it to rise at all. Quivering against the floor, she shook and gasped in disbelief, as the seed of a vanished people suddenly re-birthed after a four-hundred-year absence continued to germinate eagerly within her patriotic womb.Back in the past, Governor Bradford had passed out in his chair. On a paper beside him, he had already taken some hasty notes about how the day's events could be carefully edited in the colonial records to preserve decorum. Massasoit and Tisquantum, still holding glasses of the governor's best brandy, had wandered to the outskirts of the colony. The escape of the busty peace offering had not yet been discovered. Sitting down on the side on a large rock by the shore they observed the light of the moon on the harbor in which the strangers had first arrived.'Does it ever disturb you,' Massasoit suddenly asked, in the Wampanoag tongue, 'to have to teach these people to live atop the graves of your tribe?''Sometimes' Tisquantum admitted. 'But I must do what is best for my people, and I trust you see that better than me.''I hope that I do,' Massasoit said. 'Being Sachem is not restful. I do sympathize though. The ghosts that dwell here cannot give you much rest either.'Looking out over the shining harbor Tisquantum thought back to playing upon this very rock as a child. He thought about the teenage girl he had courted, upon the hill above, who, as it turned out, he had never gotten to make his wife. He knew what remained of her was under a tree not far away, and visited it occasionally when no one else was watching.But, because it was so recent, he could also not help but remember the peace offering's cunt squeezing tight around his cock as he unleashed his seed into her.'It's alright,' he said. 'They just got a very tiny bit quieter for some reason.'Beside him, Massasoit let out a tiny bark of laughter. 'Yes, I'll bet!' he said.Then, raising their glasses of brandy, they chuckled as they each enjoyed a sip while looking out over the shining sea to the distant horizon.By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.Historical Characters:Massasoit, Sachem (essentially chief-over-other-chiefs) of the Wampanoag Confederacy, which dominated much of the land around the Plymouth settlement. Historically he signed a peace treaty with Governor John Carver in early 1621 that would last for nearly a century. He was also the one who sent Squanto to act as their interpreter and advisor. The land the colony was built on had been occupied by one of the tribes of his confederacy which, save for Squanto, had been entirely wiped out by disease. Without his help, including repeated deliveries of food, it is very unlikely the Plymouth colony would have survived.Tisquantum aka Squanto, last surviving member of the Pawtuxet tribe, whose vacant village the Pilgrims essentially settled on top of. The entire rest of the tribe was wiped out by a sudden outbreak of disease a few years before their arrival, most likely smallpox; Squanto escaped this fate by being kidnapped by an English explorer and sold into slavery in Spain, during which time he learned English. Eventually returning to his native land he was sent by Massasoit as the ambassador to his new white allies, and according to legend assisted the Pilgrims greatly in learning to survive in their new home. In actual history he would die of disease in 1622, a year after the so-called 'First Thanksgiving', leaving no known issue.William Brewster, though in reality the English Dissenters were a relatively egalitarian lot that rejected formal religious authorities, William Brewster is generally recognized as the chief spiritual leader and authority of the early colony. I just titled him 'Reverend' for simplicity's sake. Like many of the Pilgrims William Brewster has tens of thousands of known latter-day or modern-day descendants, but his list is particularly impressive including John Foster Dulles, Richard Gere, Katherine Hepburn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sarah Palin, Nelson Rockefeller, Supreme Court Justice David Souter, Commodore Matthew Perry (the dude who 'opened' Japan), Robert Noyce (the inventor of the integrated circuit), World War 2 Admiral William 'Bull' Halsey, and President Zachary Taylor.Mary Brewster, William Brewster's wife and mother of his children. I have no historical information that Mary Brewster had the slightest interest in receiving cunnilingus from other women; on the other hand I also don't have any hard information that she didn't.Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster: no, really, these are the actual names William Brewster gave his sons. Also named his daughter 'Fear'.William Bradford, second Governor of the Plymouth Colony, after the first governor John Carver died of disease early in 1621. His journal, titled 'Of Plymouth Plantation,' is one of the primary historical sources on the early colony, including the First Thanksgiving. His descendants include Alec Baldwin, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Reeve, and Noah Webster, of 'Webster's Dictionary' fame. Unfortunately, William Bradford named his sons boring things like 'William Jr.' and 'Joseph' instead of the bat-shit awesome stuff William Brewster came up with, so I didn't give them any cameos.Myles Standish, hired by the Merchant Adventurers (non-religious monetary backers of the Mayflower expedition who were in it for potential trading profits) as a military advisor; Myles was not a Puritan, but was instead a career military man and veteran of warfare against the Spanish in Holland. However, he still was one of the signatories to the Mayflower Compact.

A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories. "In her, shoot fast," Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, "I want in her, my first use to take.""First use?!" Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto's big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn't have long to contemplate that."That is no problem at all, my lord!" Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb."Oh, Great Justice!" Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping."I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem," he said, gesturing towards Americana's cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs."Very good!" Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. "This," he said, squeezing Americana's bulging silky cheeks, "is a very rich gift, indeed!"With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her."Oh, my God," Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief's enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt."That's a sin!" one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives' largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit's great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem's honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana's flesh.The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men's faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.In between their own turns upon Miss Americana's body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana's muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty."Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?" one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana's enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. "I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing."The Pilgrim shook his head. "Nah," he said. "God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it's pretty clear what he made this one for."Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana's giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine's hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips."Well, that and this!" he said, as he held the glass up.Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow's produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana's belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them."I say Reverend," the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana's continuing show. "Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.""True," the Reverend said. "But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?""There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched," the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. "I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?""Hmm," the Reverend Brewster said. "Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once." As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims' faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. "However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement," he added, "it is not just God who must be consulted."As it happened, the Reverend's own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend's sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each."What say you, Mary?" the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything."Hmm," Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband."I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release," she said. "So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!" She lifted up a finger and glared."Of course," Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana's moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded."There is one other condition," she added, hastily. "We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated." She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. "So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?"The two junior Pilgrims' eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing."Good heavens!" the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips."Is, is that permitted under Heaven's law, Reverend?" the short one asked."Uh," Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. "To be honest," he said, "I'm not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,""Then there should be no problem, should there?" Mary asked testily."I guess not," he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God's forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife's, on the other hand,Of course, before the natives 'peace offering' could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line."Open wide, and say your grace," he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically."Oh, yes!" Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. "T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!" he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster's pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana's marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women's' hastily re-lowered skirts.So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation' that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot's open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.But she didn't have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives' outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done."Oh!" one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl's' practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary's labia, and felt the Reverend's hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle."Just so you know, Miss Americana," she heard Flag Girl's voice say, excitedly, "the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President." The events she was getting to witness through the professor's Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. "Isn't that cool?!" Americana heard her squeal.Americana whimpered. "Wonderful," she managed to moan into Mary Brewster's cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl's tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims' 'peace offering'.Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn't seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it."Shall we clean this mess up?" Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. "No need," he said."It can wait until morning," Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. "Everyone is very tired and content.""Especially her!" Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh."Should we post a guard on her then?" Governor Bradford asked.Massasoit again shook his head."The Sachem's warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods," Squanto advised. "No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?""Good point," Governor Bradford admitted. "So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?"At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. "Now this, is a good idea!" he said.With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor's house, to continue their conversation.Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns squished against the rough-hewn planks of the table, and huge tits rising and falling in the cool Massachusetts night, she could make no other move.At last, everyone nearby had either left or fallen asleep, and the coast was clear. Miss Americana's body began to glow. Her bikini, having been passed around and marveled at by various members of the party before being finally added as decorative elements to the top of the main centerpiece, glowed as well. Her chain, which had been secured to one leg of the table some time ago, did not.With a flash she was gone, leaving the Plymouth colony as mysteriously as she had entered it. The chain, disturbed by the wind of her passage, clanked to the ground. Pilgrims and natives alike would find it empty in the morning and assume that against all odds the 'harem girl' had managed to slip away in the night, and was probably therefore a witch after all. But, having already gotten very full use of her cunt, and since the blame for this could only rest primarily on his own sleepy sentries, Massasoit would not fault the Pilgrims for this and the treaty would not again be endangered. History, such as it was, for better or worse, was saved.Back in the current time, Flag Girl stood by, shivering nervously, as she watched the professor work the controls. A shining form slowly appeared upon the platform, a sprawled and shapely silhouette laid out spread-eagled atop it. Two smaller blobs appeared beside her, for her retrieved bra and panties.Then, with a last flash, the reverse time passage was complete. The machine hummed down, as Miss Americana and her discarded costume lay quivering upon the platform, once more in the flesh."Oh, thank the Goddess!" Flag Girl gasped, rushing forward in relief. Then, halfway to embracing her mistress, she suddenly gasped, skidded to a halt and froze. "Wha-what?" she gasped."Oh, yes," the Professor said. Looking down upon Americana from the control station beside the platform, he scratched his head sheepishly. "Yes, sometimes the time particles have, odd effects like this."Upon the platform Miss Americana groaned. Having recovered some of her strength and energy during the passage back, she lifted her head. She gasped, her curvy naked body rolling back and forth upon the platform, as rivers of semen continued to drip off it. Then, lifting one hand up to hold her head, she raised the other to comfortingly caress her aching belly, and then suddenly let out a loud yelp."Wha- what the?!" Miss Americana gasped.Lifting up her trembling gloved hand, she raised her head and stared down between her breasts in shock. There, rising up before her, which her fingers had unexpectedly encountered, her once-flat belly had already started to swell upwards considerably. She was six or seven months' pregnant, at least."Oh, Gah-Great Justice!" Miss Americana groaned, staring at her own enormous belly in disbelief."What, what happened?" Flag Girl squealed, hands over her lips."As I said," the professor said. Picking up a hand-held bio-scanner, he leaned over and began using it to examine Miss Americana's swollen belly. "The time-stream can have, odd effects sometimes. The exterior didn't age a day, if the still-runny and viable state of all this semen is any indication. The inside, well," He shrugged.Miss Americana shook her head, eyes glued to her impregnated body. As the Professor had stated, despite the advanced state of her pregnancy, streamers of seemingly fresh and gooey cum continued to flow out of her ravaged cunt lips, down onto the platform, spreading around her buxom buns."There's, there's no way my sonic device can deal with this," she whimpered. "Could you get me to Doctor Lingam fast? Maybe, maybe she could still fix this for me.""Maybe," the Professor admitted, still studying his scanner. "The time particles may make that more complicated than expected. But regardless of one's normal feelings on that practice, I think it might be considered a particularly sticky matter in this case, regardless.""What, what are you talking about, Professor?" the Queen of Justice gasped.He pointed at his scanner readout. "The other half of the genetic material in your womb matches no known human bloodline," he said. "Do you know what that means?"Miss Americana shook her head, glaring up at him furiously. "No of course not!" she said. "But since it's god-damn inside of me, just tell me!""The Native American known as Squanto," the Professor said, still looking over his readings with clinical detachment, "he was the one who had the first crack at your cunt, correct? And he was among the longest of those who fucked you, based on what we saw on the viewer, so if anyone's sperm reached your egg first, it was probably his. Correct?""Yes!" Americana said. She squirmed in particular, at the mention of the native interpreter's long cock, as it promptly dragged up deep memories of what it had felt like inside her. "Get to the point!" she said, naming an activity that none of the natives who had fucked her, least of all Squanto himself, had had any trouble at all doing within her."Well," he said. "In history as we previously understood it, the Pawtuxet tribe was entirely wiped out by disease save for one survivor. That would be Squanto. History tells us that he succumbed to European diseases himself shortly after the First Thanksgiving, and fathered no known children, thus making him the very last of his people."Turning it around, he showed her the readings on his bio-scanner."Until now," he said.Americana stared at the readings on the scanner in shock. In addition to all the genetic readings it also revealed to her that Squanto had gotten a jump on repopulating his tribe in another way as well. It wasn't one baby inside her, it was twins. Both boys. She turned and looked at her impregnated belly. Then she looked back at the scanner."Oh, oh shit," she whispered softly.Flag Girl suddenly started bouncing eagerly on her heels, having finally processed with her limited teen brainpower what the adults were talking about. "Oh, yay, Miss A!" she squealed. "You're going to be, like, the step-mother of an entire nation! Isn't that so cool?"Her face shivering in horror and wonder behind her star-spangled patriotic mask, Miss Americana shivered. "Oh, oh my fucking God!" she moaned.Overcome by the implications, she slumped back down onto the platform, her buxom naked body once more too overcome by what was happening to it to rise at all. Quivering against the floor, she shook and gasped in disbelief, as the seed of a vanished people suddenly re-birthed after a four-hundred-year absence continued to germinate eagerly within her patriotic womb.Back in the past, Governor Bradford had passed out in his chair. On a paper beside him, he had already taken some hasty notes about how the day's events could be carefully edited in the colonial records to preserve decorum. Massasoit and Tisquantum, still holding glasses of the governor's best brandy, had wandered to the outskirts of the colony. The escape of the busty peace offering had not yet been discovered. Sitting down on the side on a large rock by the shore they observed the light of the moon on the harbor in which the strangers had first arrived.'Does it ever disturb you,' Massasoit suddenly asked, in the Wampanoag tongue, 'to have to teach these people to live atop the graves of your tribe?''Sometimes' Tisquantum admitted. 'But I must do what is best for my people, and I trust you see that better than me.''I hope that I do,' Massasoit said. 'Being Sachem is not restful. I do sympathize though. The ghosts that dwell here cannot give you much rest either.'Looking out over the shining harbor Tisquantum thought back to playing upon this very rock as a child. He thought about the teenage girl he had courted, upon the hill above, who, as it turned out, he had never gotten to make his wife. He knew what remained of her was under a tree not far away, and visited it occasionally when no one else was watching.But, because it was so recent, he could also not help but remember the peace offering's cunt squeezing tight around his cock as he unleashed his seed into her.'It's alright,' he said. 'They just got a very tiny bit quieter for some reason.'Beside him, Massasoit let out a tiny bark of laughter. 'Yes, I'll bet!' he said.Then, raising their glasses of brandy, they chuckled as they each enjoyed a sip while looking out over the shining sea to the distant horizon.By Mark V Sharp for Literotica.Historical Characters:Massasoit, Sachem (essentially chief-over-other-chiefs) of the Wampanoag Confederacy, which dominated much of the land around the Plymouth settlement. Historically he signed a peace treaty with Governor John Carver in early 1621 that would last for nearly a century. He was also the one who sent Squanto to act as their interpreter and advisor. The land the colony was built on had been occupied by one of the tribes of his confederacy which, save for Squanto, had been entirely wiped out by disease. Without his help, including repeated deliveries of food, it is very unlikely the Plymouth colony would have survived.Tisquantum aka Squanto, last surviving member of the Pawtuxet tribe, whose vacant village the Pilgrims essentially settled on top of. The entire rest of the tribe was wiped out by a sudden outbreak of disease a few years before their arrival, most likely smallpox; Squanto escaped this fate by being kidnapped by an English explorer and sold into slavery in Spain, during which time he learned English. Eventually returning to his native land he was sent by Massasoit as the ambassador to his new white allies, and according to legend assisted the Pilgrims greatly in learning to survive in their new home. In actual history he would die of disease in 1622, a year after the so-called 'First Thanksgiving', leaving no known issue.William Brewster, though in reality the English Dissenters were a relatively egalitarian lot that rejected formal religious authorities, William Brewster is generally recognized as the chief spiritual leader and authority of the early colony. I just titled him 'Reverend' for simplicity's sake. Like many of the Pilgrims William Brewster has tens of thousands of known latter-day or modern-day descendants, but his list is particularly impressive including John Foster Dulles, Richard Gere, Katherine Hepburn, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Sarah Palin, Nelson Rockefeller, Supreme Court Justice David Souter, Commodore Matthew Perry (the dude who 'opened' Japan), Robert Noyce (the inventor of the integrated circuit), World War 2 Admiral William 'Bull' Halsey, and President Zachary Taylor.Mary Brewster, William Brewster's wife and mother of his children. I have no historical information that Mary Brewster had the slightest interest in receiving cunnilingus from other women; on the other hand I also don't have any hard information that she didn't.Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster: no, really, these are the actual names William Brewster gave his sons. Also named his daughter 'Fear'.William Bradford, second Governor of the Plymouth Colony, after the first governor John Carver died of disease early in 1621. His journal, titled 'Of Plymouth Plantation,' is one of the primary historical sources on the early colony, including the First Thanksgiving. His descendants include Alec Baldwin, Clint Eastwood, Christopher Reeve, and Noah Webster, of 'Webster's Dictionary' fame. Unfortunately, William Bradford named his sons boring things like 'William Jr.' and 'Joseph' instead of the bat-shit awesome stuff William Brewster came up with, so I didn't give them any cameos.Myles Standish, hired by the Merchant Adventurers (non-religious monetary backers of the Mayflower expedition who were in it for potential trading profits) as a military advisor; Myles was not a Puritan, but was instead a career military man and veteran of warfare against the Spanish in Holland. However, he still was one of the signatories to the Mayflower Compact.

Tracy and Kenny Barr became the 7th recipients of the Sagamore of the Wabash Award from Shepherds House. They both joined Kayla Blakeslee on Fort Wayne's Morning News to share what it means to them. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving: Part 2A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.“In her, shoot fast,” Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, “I want in her, my first use to take.”“First use?!” Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto’s big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn’t have long to contemplate that.“That is no problem at all, my lord!” Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb.“Oh, Great Justice!” Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping.“I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem,” he said, gesturing towards Americana’s cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs.“Very good!” Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. “This,” he said, squeezing Americana’s bulging silky cheeks, “is a very rich gift, indeed!”With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her.“Oh, my God,” Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief’s enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt.“That’s a sin!” one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives’ largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit’s great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem’s honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana’s flesh.The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men’s faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.In between their own turns upon Miss Americana’s body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana’s muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty.“Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?” one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana’s enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. “I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing.”The Pilgrim shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it’s pretty clear what he made this one for.”Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana’s giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine’s hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips.“Well, that and this!” he said, as he held the glass up.Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow’s produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana’s belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them.“I say Reverend,” the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana’s continuing show. “Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.”“True,” the Reverend said. “But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?”“There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched,” the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. “I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?”“Hmm,” the Reverend Brewster said. “Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once.” As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims’ faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. “However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement,” he added, “it is not just God who must be consulted.”As it happened, the Reverend’s own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend’s sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each.“What say you, Mary?” the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything.“Hmm,” Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband.“I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release,” she said. “So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!” She lifted up a finger and glared.“Of course,” Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana’s moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded.“There is one other condition,” she added, hastily. “We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated.” She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. “So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?”The two junior Pilgrims’ eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing.“Good heavens!” the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips.“Is, is that permitted under Heaven’s law, Reverend?” the short one asked.“Uh,” Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,”“Then there should be no problem, should there?” Mary asked testily.“I guess not,” he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God’s forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife’s, on the other hand,Of course, before the natives ‘peace offering’ could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line.“Open wide, and say your grace,” he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically.“Oh, yes!” Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. “T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!” he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster’s pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana’s marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women's’ hastily re-lowered skirts.So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation’ that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot’s open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.But she didn’t have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives’ outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done.“Oh!” one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl’s’ practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary’s labia, and felt the Reverend’s hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle.“Just so you know, Miss Americana,” she heard Flag Girl’s voice say, excitedly, “the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President.” The events she was getting to witness through the professor’s Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. “Isn’t that cool?!” Americana heard her squeal.Americana whimpered. “Wonderful,” she managed to moan into Mary Brewster’s cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl’s tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims’ 'peace offering’.Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn’t seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it.“Shall we clean this mess up?” Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. “No need,” he said.“It can wait until morning,” Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. “Everyone is very tired and content.”“Especially her!” Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh.“Should we post a guard on her then?” Governor Bradford asked.Massasoit again shook his head.“The Sachem’s warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods,” Squanto advised. “No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?”“Good point,” Governor Bradford admitted. “So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?”At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. “Now this, is a good idea!” he said.With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor’s house, to continue their conversation.Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns sq

Miss Americana goes to the First Thanksgiving: Part 2A heroine goes back in time to a sticky-fingered situation.By Mark V Sharp, in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.“In her, shoot fast,” Principal Chief Massasoit directed, using what words he knew so that he would not surprise or confuse his strange hosts, “I want in her, my first use to take.”“First use?!” Miss Americana managed to whimper, in horror, in between the moans and yelps Squanto’s big thrusting cock was forcing out of her. But she didn’t have long to contemplate that.“That is no problem at all, my lord!” Squanto replied. Relaxing himself he thrust his enormous hardened cock deep into Miss Americana and, with a groan of ecstasy, unleashed his potent Pawtuxet seed upon her defenseless womb.“Oh, Great Justice!” Americana groaned, her eyes rolling up in her head, as she felt the pulsing of his great cock inside her, and knew it meant that his sperm was flooding into her.He pulled out and then stepped aside, his long cock dripping.“I have lubricated her for you, my Sachem,” he said, gesturing towards Americana’s cunt, which, gaping slightly wider than before, was also already releasing a long tendril of his semen to dangle down between her thighs.“Very good!” Massasoit said. He stepped forward and took up his own position behind her. Reaching out he stroked her toned bubble-ass, and shook his head. “This,” he said, squeezing Americana’s bulging silky cheeks, “is a very rich gift, indeed!”With that he pushed himself up against her leaking cunt, and also entered her.“Oh, my God,” Miss Americana whimpered, as she too discovered Squanto was not to be a unique case. Her entire body shivered, as the great chief’s enormous copper-colored cock sank deep up inside her helplessly quivering cunt.“That’s a sin!” one of the Pilgrims sitting near her chided, and continued eagerly to watch.At the sight that their chief had accepted the gift and that peace had been restored, the waiting column of Wampanoag warriors let out a great whoop of glee. Then, hoisting their burdens, they marched into the Plymouth settlement. The Pilgrims greeted them warmly, food was handed out, the Pilgrims contributing their meager stocks of beer and bread to the natives’ largesse. Soon the great feast was in progress, with Wampanoag and Pilgrim dining and chatting together, sampling the first dishes as the Pilgrim women and their daughters and servants worked to prepare the main courses.And through it all, bent over at one end of the great table at which the First Thanksgiving was being laid, Miss Americana continued to get nailed. Massasoit’s great cock, in his eagerness, lasted only slightly longer than Squanto had. But there was plenty more where that had come from. He was followed by Samoset, the Sagamore of the Abanaki tribe, who kept closer tabs on the strange new colonists while the Sachem was busy with other matters. After Samoset, the Sachem’s honor guard took their turns; and after they had finished, every warrior in the entire column came up one by one and also partook in Miss Americana’s flesh.The Pilgrims, with their Godly morals, piously abstained, but this did not stop the Pilgrim men’s faces from showing deep jealousy, that their native guests got to enjoy two great helpings of Thanks-giving bounty instead of just one.In between their own turns upon Miss Americana’s body, Massasoit, Squanto, and Samoset took their own seats at the table of the Elders, and with it, a privileged view of the action up between Americana’s muscular shivering thighs, as the pale-skinned beauty got nailed by one long uncut native cock after another after another. Between her spread thighs they could also see her enormous breasts hanging down low and swaying wildly over the table as she squealed and squirmed under her furious and unchecked invasions, as if her enormous milk-filled udders were blessing the heavily-laden table with their own generous bounty.“Does this disturb you, Pilgrim?” one native who had also picked up some English asked. Sitting down after his own turn inside her he found an open seat before Americana’s enormous swaying udders, smoking a post-coital pipe. “I thought your God does not approve of this sort of thing.”The Pilgrim shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “God makes everyone for a purpose. I think it’s pretty clear what he made this one for.”Then, leaning forward, the Pilgrim seized one of Americana’s giant breasts and held his glass up under it. He squeezed, discharging a rich squirt of milk from the heroine’s hanging fruits into his cup. He took the cup back, threw it back, and then licked some of the delicious white super-milk off his lips.“Well, that and this!” he said, as he held the glass up.Seeing yet another way in which the mysterious woman could be used in a celebration of plenty, other Pilgrims soon came forward to also eagerly sample the fuck-quivering cow’s produce. Americana, too busy squealing as she got nailed by one big native cock after another, could do nothing to resist as her big breasts were squeezed and squeezed until finally even those bottomless udders were drained dry.Eventually, the entire feast had been consumed and everyone was full and sated. Even Americana’s belt-boosted strength eventually failed her, and after eighty or so consecutive fucks up against the table her knees finally buckled and she sank down, a quivering wreck. She had taken so much cum inside her that rivers seemed to flow down her thighs, and a huge puddle had formed, which her knees landed in with twin pearly splashes like comets entering an ocean of gooey white fluid.But though she was spent, she had not even begun to exhaust the collective vigor of the Wampanoag delegation. Flipping her over, the warriors positioned her on her back at the edge of the First Thanksgiving table, which, the feast having been largely consumed, was now otherwise covered in a great mass of empty used bowls, plates, and tableware. Then, having positioned her, they continued nailing her almost-limp body face-to-face upon the table, as, around them, the dessert course finally began to be served.The tight order of the early stages of the feast had by now broken down, and Elder and commoner, Indian and Pilgrim were now all mixing freely. Copious quantities of beer had also flowed along with the food, and everyone was now quite contentedly drunk, as while the Puritans were against many things, booze was not actually one of them.“I say Reverend,” the short Pilgrim commented to William Brewster, as they stood side by side near the entrance of a house and watched Americana’s continuing show. “Everyone has eaten their full, except for the harem girl. It seems rather unsuited to a great Thanksgiving like this to leave one, even a harlot and serial adulteress such as she, unsated.”“True,” the Reverend said. “But the food has already been cleared. What is there for her to eat?”“There is, one set of sausages that have not been touched,” the tall Pilgrim said, finally dropping what they were angling for. “I know that putting them where the Indians are putting theirs is a sin, but what about her mouth. Does that, you know, count?”“Hmm,” the Reverend Brewster said. “Normally I would say yes. However, this is a special festive day, and she was clearly sent by Providence itself to perform exactly this, function, so perhaps, just once.” As he saw the brightening expressions on the two Pilgrims’ faces, he shook his head, and raised a chiding finger. “However, for the sake of the harmony of our settlement,” he added, “it is not just God who must be consulted.”As it happened, the Reverend’s own wife was at that moment emerging from the house behind them, carrying two freshly-baked pies. The Reverend’s sons, Truelove Brewster and Wrestling Brewster, trailed behind her, carrying another pie each.“What say you, Mary?” the Reverend asked her, knowing full well her sharp ears would have overheard everything.“Hmm,” Mary Brewster said. She glanced at the other Pilgrim wives scattered about the festival, of which there were not many. Between the composition of the original complement of settlers and the terrible toll of deaths that had occurred over the previous winter, there were now a great deal more men than women in the colony. The few other wives looked at her, significantly, saying nothing but their expressions communicating much. Nodding with understanding, Mary turned back to her husband.“I know that men build up a great deal of, pressure, if they are not given release,” she said. “So, I would say it is fine if the unmarried or widowed men sate themselves while sating the whore. It might reduce, future problems. But the married men will be sated by their wives, or else!” She lifted up a finger and glared.“Of course,” Reverend Brewster said. He could not quite keep the disappointment out of his voice that he would not be among those allowed to partake.But before he could give general approval for the new plan, Mary caught one of the other wives widening her eyes to get her attention. The silent wife nodded a couple times, significantly, towards Americana’s moaning lips, and then looked at Mary meaningfully. Mary nodded.“There is one other condition,” she added, hastily. “We good women of the colony have had to endure our husbands watching the whore get nailed, in silence. We have done so, for the future of our settlement. However, we must get compensated.” She looked at her husband, her eyes boring into him. “So after the unmarried men have fed her their main course, we will feed her dessert, of the pies we have long had prepared between our legs, but rarely if ever had eaten. Is this clear?”The two junior Pilgrims’ eyes widened, as if they had never imagined such a thing.“Good heavens!” the tall one said, fingers going to his own lips.“Is, is that permitted under Heaven’s law, Reverend?” the short one asked.“Uh,” Reverend Brewster said. He wracked his memory of the Good Book, trying to think of a clear passage one way or the other. “To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure if the Good Lord considers that sex, or not,”“Then there should be no problem, should there?” Mary asked testily.“I guess not,” he said, deciding to err on the side of marital harmony over strict doctrine for once. God’s forgiveness, after all, was infinite. His wife’s, on the other hand,Of course, before the natives ‘peace offering’ could be used in this manner, clearance first had to be gotten from Massasoit. But the Great Sachem, in a very relaxed state having thoroughly drained his own scrotum over the course of five separate sessions within Miss Americana, was in a magnanimous mood, and with a simple nod of his bronzed head and wave of his hand signaled his approval.So it was that as the pies got laid out, cut, and consumption began eagerly, one by one Pilgrim men began to ascend the table. As with the Indians, they went in strict order of rank, and, his own wife Rose being one of the casualties of the previous winter, this meant that Myles Standish was first in line.“Open wide, and say your grace,” he advised her, as having preemptively removed his pants, he came in for a landing on her moaning tongue.Miss Americana whimpered loudly as his cock entered her mouth. Pure instinct took over almost immediately. Wrapping her lips tight around his respectable but, compared to some of the monsters that had been in her cunt that day, modestly-sized cock, she began to suck it enthusiastically.“Oh, yes!” Myles said. He lifted his eyes heavenward, as she slurped and slurped upon him. “T-truly, this wench was sent by the Lord!” he said, before erupting down her throat and giving her, her first load of cum to swallow.It would, of course, not be the last. As the lesser Pilgrims had pointed out, while everyone else had had their fill, at this First Thanksgiving Americana had had none. Now, they made up for that. One after another, unmarried Pilgrim men climbed up and, sometimes still eating pieces of pie as they did so, inserted their fresh sausages down between her lips. Americana moaned, and blushed, and sucked each one as vigorously and worshipfully as she could, as if they were truly her gifts from God. One warm protein shake after another poured down her throat, finally filling up her until-now-empty belly, and each and every one she gulped down with a vigor equal to the holiday. Then after each one finished she opened wide and, extending out her tongue, began putting preparatory licks upon the next incoming cock that inevitably replaced the last one in the never-ending cornucopia of cock she was being served.In the meantime, watching all this, and knowing that based on Mary Brewster’s pronouncement they would not get their own full Thanksgiving repast any other way, one by one the married Pilgrim men snuck away from the party with their now equally enthused and eager wives, into the bushes or the backs of the more remote houses, to do what married couples do. Although, given the inspirations provided by Americana’s marathon performance, they generally put a little more effort and creativity into it than they typically had. One by one, flush-faced and hand-in-hand they returned to the center of the festival, in a few cases with the seeds of another few thousand modern descendants quietly germinating under the Pilgrim women's’ hastily re-lowered skirts.So it was that, when the Pilgrim men and the natives alike had finally sated themselves, well after the dessert course and into the after-meal drinking and general turkey-clobbered lethargy, Americana got her final surprise. With the coast finally clear, the Pilgrim wives climbed up one by one and got the 'compensation’ that Mary Brewster had negotiated for them. As they lifted their skirts and lowered their unkempt bushes down towards the invading harlot’s open gasping lips, Americana moaned to discover, one after another, that there was a pie of fresh cream waiting for her under each and every skirt, to accompany the gutted pumpkin and other pies lying spent all around her.But she didn’t have much choice. Digging her tongue up between the wives’ outer lips, she did her best to show them how it was done.“Oh!” one Pilgrim woman after another sighed, heads rolling and shivering, as they discovered at the tip of the 'harem girl’s’ practiced tongue a pleasure their husbands had rarely, if ever, managed to provide them. Americana was not by nature a cunt-eater, but she had been put into that position often enough by triumphant villainesses to know her way around. She stroked the inner lips, teased the hood, and then finally went after the excited clit with vigor. And as she did so, streamers and tendrils of married Pilgrim cum poured out into her own mouth, which, like all the others before her, she periodically paused to gulp down hungrily before resuming her probing services.Finally, the last dish of all, the one between the legs of Mary Brewster herself, was served to her. As she stroked and stroked between Mary’s labia, and felt the Reverend’s hallowed semen wash down her tongue, Americana heard her ear-ring microphone crackle.“Just so you know, Miss Americana,” she heard Flag Girl’s voice say, excitedly, “the semen you are currently eating will give rise to at least one Nobel Prize recipient, several Oscar-winning actresses and actors, one Supreme Court Justice, several Governors and Senators, a bunch of highly decorated Admirals in the U.S. Navy, and one President.” The events she was getting to witness through the professor’s Time Viewer were inspiring an interest in history the airheaded sidekick had never felt before, and she was eagerly scrolling through the lists of descendants of the various people her mentor was getting fucked by. “Isn’t that cool?!” Americana heard her squeal.Americana whimpered. “Wonderful,” she managed to moan into Mary Brewster’s cunt, and with a lap of her tongue, sent more thrillingly historically-significant semen running down her throat.At last even the Pilgrim women had had their fill of serving up themselves, and receiving the novel pleasures of the harem girl’s tongue in return. With Pilgrim and native alike now full and tired, they all started to decamp. The Pilgrims wandered back into their homes. The native leaders had had a few dwellings set aside for them, and the rest would make camp just outside the settlement.As the throng began to disperse, Governor Bradford, Squanto, and Massasoit stood side-by-side, surveying what was left of the Pilgrims’ 'peace offering’.Americana lay sprawled upon the Thanksgiving table, as utterly and thoroughly consumed as any of the empty dishes all around her. She was not unconscious, but her blue eyes stared glassily up at the sky and didn’t seem to see anything. She still had her belt, no one knowing to try to take it off of her, but despite that no muscle of her mighty curvy body seemed capable of movement, save for the slow rise and fall of her huge breasts as she breathed. Rivers of cum seemed to pour out of her cunt, spilling down in waterfalls between the planks of the table to form a vast growing lake underneath it.“Shall we clean this mess up?” Governor Bradford asked, nodding towards Miss Americana.Without waiting for his interpreter, Massasoit shook his head. “No need,” he said.“It can wait until morning,” Squanto assured him, smirking at the sight of the sprawled fucked-out white harlot. “Everyone is very tired and content.”“Especially her!” Massasoit said, and tilting his head back let out a booming laugh.“Should we post a guard on her then?” Governor Bradford asked.Massasoit again shook his head.“The Sachem’s warriors watch well all the approaches through the woods,” Squanto advised. “No enemy tribe will enter here to take her. As for her, look at her. Do you think she can even walk at this point, let alone outrun the finest hunters of the Wampanoag people?”“Good point,” Governor Bradford admitted. “So, in that case, I have a small stash of brandy left. Shall we share some?”At this Massasoit tilted his head back and laughed vigorously. “Now this, is a good idea!” he said.With that the two natives and the Pilgrim turned and proceeded to the Governor’s house, to continue their conversation.Americana was left alone, lying spent on the First Thanksgiving table. Soon all around her was quiet, save for the distant sound of a couple married Pilgrims getting in a second round. Panting, she stared at the stars, still in shock. Occasionally her gloved fingers twitched, down beside her wide and absurdly well-filled hips. Other than that, huge buns sq

1/2: HYPERSONIC: Testing the weapon to eclipse the ballistic missile of the 1950s. Jerry Hendrix, Sagamore Institute https://www.nationalreview.com/2024/08/the-u-s-military-must-go-hypersonic/ 1952

WHISK(E)Y WEDNESDAY AUGUST 7 @ 7:00PM Sagamore Spirit Distillery Sagamore WW Presented by Massachusetts Market Activation Manager, Dan Braganca. TASTING LINE-UP Sagamore 93 proof Small Batch Sagamore Double Oak Sagamore Manhattan Finish Sagamore Cognac Finish Julio's barrel select Whisky Wednesday / Whiskey Wednesday

MassDOT and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers have received a $993 million grant for the project from the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law to restore the Sagamore and Bourne Bridges in Cape Cod. For more, ask Alexa to play WBZ NewsRadio on #iHeartRadio.

Historian and scholar Connor Williams joins Carl for this look at the Gilded Age retreat of the Adirondacks.  A number of Gilded Age families came to this leafy paradise despite the dusty two day journey in an attempt to escape the city and recharge in nature.  The Gilded Age saw the rise of the "great camps" -- extensive properties owned by families such as the Vanderbilts and the Morgans. While certainly not as lavish as their Newport cottages, these escapes still had elegant meals, fully stocked bars and dozens of domestic help to keep it all running.  Great Camp Sagamore, once a Vanderbilt property, still welcomes visitors today on the shores of Raquette lake as it has for over 125 years. Visit the Gilded Gentleman website for a full list of episodes

Neil Bemenderfer, a key role player on Purdue's Big Ten title team in 1979, celebrates his 68th birthday with us. The 6-foot-10-inch forward/center from Rochester, Ind., was a backup to All-American center Joe Barry Carroll and played for coaches Fred Schaus and Lee Rose after transferring to Purdue from Vanderbilt.  Bemenderfer went on to have a long career in the legal community, most recently as a civil mediator with a company he founded, The Mediation Group, in Indianapolis. From its website:  Bemenderfer began full-time dispute resolution in 2000. Neil has mediated thousands of cases and has been consistently named one of the top mediators in Indiana. He mediates all civil cases, including serious injury and death, complex commercial disputes and workouts, product liability, employment, construction, real estate, and land use. Besides mediating, Neil also chairs medical panel review proceedings under Indiana's medical malpractice laws and is a regular speaker at seminars and training sessions. He is a Fellow of the American College of Civil Mediators, is consistently recognized as an Indiana Super Lawyer (Top 50), and is listed in Best Lawyers in America and The International Who's Who of Commercial Mediation. Born and raised in Rochester, Indiana, Neil attended Purdue University, where he majored in English and played basketball. He was twice awarded the Red Mackey Award for Academic and Athletic Excellence. In 1999, he was named to the Indiana High School Basketball Hall of Fame Silver Anniversary Team and is a Sagamore of the Wabash. He is also an instrument-rated pilot.

This week: A radiation exposure incident at Pilgrim Nuclear Power station comes to light. Senator Markey comes to the Cape to find out the latest on replacing the Bourne and Sagamore bridges. And the Vineyard Haven waterfront could be getting an ambitious makeover.

This week: If-and-when we get new Bourne and Sagamore bridges, how will they connect to local roads? We've got details on what's being considered. And, there's a new dust-up on the Pilgrim nuclear decommissioning panel. Also: PFAS chemicals, likely from Joint Base Cape Cod, are being found in fish and shellfish.

You probably haven't seen anything in the news about it, but I have reliable intel that a royal has quietly taken up residence on Cape Cod. In the Sagamore area, away from the gaze of paparazzi, a prince is spending some time along the canal and trying to blend in with the locals.

This week: The final "piece" of a bridge to replace the Sagamore is almost in place: it's… $1 billion dollars, and the Cape's delegation is leaning hard to get it from the feds. Also: eleven months have gone by, so when are we going to hear a decision from the EPA on a proposed machine gun range for Joint base Cape Cod?

24-What is Law Enforcement Chaplaincy? According to the International Conference of Police Chaplains (ICPC), Chaplaincy offers one of the most impactful support available to law enforcement professionals. The ICPC raises the standard for training and supporting chaplains while they maintain an intentional focus on moral excellence, cutting-edge training, and effective communications to encourage every law enforcement agency to establish and maintain a powerful chaplaincy. Today on the podcast I have the President of the International Conference of Police Chaplains, Chaplain Jim Bontrager, and the Assistant Director of Region Seven of the ICPC on the show to talk about what law enforcement chaplaincy does for an agency.     ABOUT JIM BONTRAGER Jim is a United States Marine, former Reserve Officer and full time Chaplain with the Elkhart (IN) Police Department. He holds his Diplomate Chaplain credentials with the International Conference of Police Chaplains (ICPC) and serves as President of the organization. He is a recipient of the 2012 Wilbert A. Cunningham Award for Excellence in Law Enforcement Chaplaincy, a 2013 Excellence in Leadership Award from Pointman Leadership Institute, the 2016 recipient of the Richard S. Kassel Award, the 2017 recipient of the Pilsung Warrior Award, and a 2018 recipient of the John A. Price Excellence in Chaplaincy Award. Jim was appointed a Sagamore of the Wabash by Indiana Governor Mike Pence in 2015. He is author of the official law enforcement curriculum for the movie Courageous, is an Indiana State certified LE Instructor as well as an instructor with the ICPC. He is founder/ director of Warrior on the Wall which works to address law enforcement suicide, family breakdown, and the unique emotional/ spiritual challenges to the profession. ICPC PO Box 5033 Knoxville, TN 37928 United States of America Email Address icpc@icpc4cops.org   ABOUT KEN SCHLENKER Chaplain Ken Schlenker is the Founder and Executive Director of RKM Crisis Team, dba CAREForce, a nonprofit 501(c)3 providing Crisis Training, Response, Organizational Development and coaching for community & first-responder organizations. He also serves as an Assistant Professor, Director and creator of the Chaplain Degree Programs at Grace School of Theology, a fully accredited (ATS and TRACS) seminary located in The Woodlands, TX.  The degree programs at Grace range from undergraduate through doctorate and serve 38 countries in 8 different languages. Ken graduated from Talbot School of Theology, BIOLA University with a M.Div. degree and from Southern Illinois University with a BA in Health Care Management. Ken served as a Corpsman (HM2) in the US Navy and has spent over 30 years in ministry--as a Care and Missions Pastor and Public Safety Chaplain providing crisis intervention services and training nationally. Chaplain Schlenker is the author of the California Peace Officer Standards and Training (POST) Law Enforcement Chaplain Curriculum in 2011 which was created as part of the POST Master Instructor Instructional Development Institute (MICC3) Training Program.  He is a recognized national public speaker. Ken currently serves as a trainer and Law Enforcement Chaplain with the Montgomery County Texas Sheriff's Department and District Attorney Offices.  Connect with Ken at ken@careforce.us   +++++ FIRST RESPONDER WELLNESS PODCAST/PTSD911 MOVIE Web site:  https://ptsd911movie.com/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ptsd911movie/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ptsd911movie/ YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClQ8jxjxYqHgFQixBK4Bl0Q Purchase the PTSD911 film for your public safety agency or organization: https://ptsd911.myshopify.com/products/ptsd911-digital-toolkit-pre-orders-only The First Responder Wellness Podcast is a production of ConjoStudios, LLC Copyright ©2024 ConjoStudios, LLC All rights reserved.     

This week: The federal budget currently being wrangled in Washington, D.C., may make a big difference to the replacement of the Bourne and Sagamore bridges. And: What's going on at the offshore site of Vineyard Wind? And, we take a look at the long entanglement and brief life of a singular right whale — number 5120.

On this episode, we discuss the Haunted Sagamore Hotel. A hotel that has topped the charts as both one of the Most haunted hotel in America, and most beautiful. We cover its long history, including the variations to the buildings, after the hotel burned down twice. We cover the various key figures in history, the local land, and some of the ghosts that call the property home. If you are interested in visiting, check out: www.TheSagamore.com The architecture is just to die for! The blog is located at architecturecoffeeandink.com which also has the complete link of all my sources, previous episodes, and old blog posts. You can email me at architecturecoffeeandink@gmail.com, or head over to the Insta, @architecturecoffeeandink,as well as the TikTok, @architecturecoffeeandink. Architecture, Coffee, & Ink is a Hollywood C. Studios, LLC Production. --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/architecturecoffeeandink/support

In this weeks episode Matt brings two bottles straight from the Sagamore Spirit Distillery. Their new 6 year old bottled in bond batch 3 and the distillery exclusive Dopplebock Finished whiskey. After a couple pours of Sagamore we discuss Bong Joon Ho's 2003 masterpiece Memories of Murder.

Thank you for tuning in to Episode 265 of the Down Cellar Studio Podcast. Full show notes with photos can be found on my website.   This week's segments included: Off the Needles, Hook or Bobbins On the Needles, Hook or Bobbins Brainstorming In my Travels KAL News Events Contest, News & Notes Life in Focus Ask Me Anything On a Happy Note Quote of the Week   Thank you to this episode's sponsors: Imagined Landscapes, Cniotáil Láimhe Designs on Ravelry & Buxom Cat Knits   Off the Needles, Hook or Bobbins   Mom's 2023 Rhinebeck Sweater Pattern: Carbeth Cardigan by Kate Davies (~$8 knitting pattern available on Ravelry & this website) Needles: US 7 (4.5 mm) for the ribbing and US 9 (5.5 mm) for the body Yarn: Sweitzer Fiber Mill mystery yarn purchased at Maryland Sheep & Wool 2023 My Ravelry Project Page   Sneaky Pumpkins (& their Ghost friends) Yarn: Worsted Weight Acrylic (various) in white, orange and brown. Hook: C (2.75 mm) Pattern: Cute Halloween Decorations by Laura Sillar (~$3.85 US Crochet pattern) available on Ravelry Safety Eyes from 6060 on Etsy. Ravelry Project Page About this Project: I saw this on Instagram and knew I had to make them because "sneaky pumpkins" is a running joke for Liz, Riley and me. You'll find shots of sneaky pumpkins all through our Rhinebeck weekend videos on Youtube-  Part 1 (Indie Untangled) and Part 2 (Rhinebeck). I made 3 sets, one for each of us.   On the Needles, Hook or Bobbins   Liz's Socks Yarn: Area 51 Fibres Sturdy Alien Base ( n the  (80% Superwash Merino, 20% Nylon) in the National Periodic Table Day Colorway (self striping with rainbow and gray) Needles: US 1.5 (2.5 mm) Pattern: OMG Heel Socks by Megan Williams ($5 knitting pattern available on Ravelry ) Ravelry Project Page Progress- I finished the first sock in Vegas and half of the second sock at Rhinebeck. I'm beyond the heel on sock #2 now.   Christmas Stockings   Pattern: Christmas Stockings to Knit and Crochet from Family Circle Magazine. Available in this web archive link. I've also saved it to my podcast Gmail Google Drive in case it disappears! web.archive.org-Christmas Stockings to Knit and Crochet from Our Archives.pdf Yarn: Red Heart Super Saver in Cherry Red, Hunter Green and White Hook: G (4.0 mm) I thought I had 3 to make before Thanksgiving, but it's really only two which is a huge relief. Progress: The front & back of one stocking is done. I finished the foot shaping on the both sides of the stocking.   Let the Mystery Unravel 2023 Blanket of Calm Pattern: Blanket of Calm by Casapinka (free crochet pattern) Yarn: Woolen Women Fibers- Let the Mystery Unravel subscription + Cascade Heritage Hook: 3.25 mm (D) Ravelry Project Page Check out the October Unboxing video Progress: Riley helped me complete the 9 squares for October. I've single crocheted them together and started the border.   Brainstorming   Samples & patterns we found at Rhinebeck:   Mini Mock Neck Tank by Jessie Maed Designs ($9 knitting pattern available on Ravelry). The Traveler by Andrea Mowry ($9 knitting pattern available on Ravelry & the Drea Renee Knits website) PhD Candidate Sweater by Hannah Mann (free knitting pattern available on Ravelry)   In My Travels Las Vegas We attended the BOSS Reseller Remix Event hosted at the Blind Center of Nevada FearLESS Living Fund: find all of our links to social media etc on this linktree. We ran a silent auction and raised over $6k Gave away the first two awards to Blind Center Clients. Video will be available soon.   Rhinebeck with Mom, Liz and Riley Friday- we grabbed lunch then headed to Indie Untangled for the last spot of the day. We got an AirBnB in Hudson that was adorable. Saturday we arrived at the Fairgrounds in Rhinebeck around 11a. We shopped until 2p meet-up. It was sS lovely seeing/meeting so many of you! We chatted for awhile- longer than Riley would have liked, I'm sure! See the video for candid reactions!  Then we shopped until they closed. Saturday night we had dinner at a lovely little place in Hudson - the Grazin' Diner. Sunday morning we shopped with Lauren and her boyfriend Pete, then checked out the animal barns, bought more stuff! I bought nearly all of the things on my "to purchase" list. Check out Part 1 (Indie Untangled) and Part 2 (Rhinebeck) videos on the Down Cellar Studio YouTube Channel.   KAL News Pigskin Party '23 #DCSPigskinParty23 Official Rules Find everything you need on my website or in the Start Here Thread in the Ravelry Group Register using this Google Form (you must be Registered to be eligible for prizes) Enter your projects using the Point Tally Form Find the full list of Sponsors in this Google Doc. Coupon Codes are listed in this Google Doc & in this Ravelry Thread Exclusive Items from our Pro Shop Sponsors are listed in this Ravelry Thread Questions-  ask them in this Ravelry Thread or email Jen at downcellarstudio @ gmail.com Commentator Updates- tune in to hear more. I talked about the following- these are all RAVELRY project pages: Joseybug has been cranking out some Sagamore flyover hats Estherwy recently finished a beautiful tessalated vest. Laaleebee recently finished the Rhinebeck Doodle cowl Stats 525 Participants Of those, 323 with Points Average of those with points 552 Points Highest: 4332 & Lowest: 10 Blitzes 52 Top 3 players: 1) foryouandyarn (4332 points) 2) Pebblesgirlcraft (3839 points), 3) mostlymunchies (3626 points) Top Conference: LFC Top Team: #7 Garter Guards 21,8356 Quarter 2 Challenge: Embrace Nature brought to you by our Official Sponsor of the Quarter Bella Fio. Runs 11/1-11/30/23. Full details can be found in this Google Doc and in this Ravelry Thread. WIPs Challenge- starting 11/10. Stay tuned for more details.   Contest, News & Notes   My cousin Linda's friend is looking for warm handknit/crocheted items for adult and youth homeless in Massachusetts. They set up tables on Thanksgiving and put all of the handmade items on the fence outside their church in Woburn center. Calling for all makers who want to donate. PM me on Ravelry or email me at downcellarstudio at gmail.com and I'll give you the address to send them to. Any fiber type welcome. Hats, scarves, mitts, shawls, blankets. Anything warm is welcome!   Life in Focus Mom's October scans showed no changes! Cancer is stable at this time. She goes back again for scans in January!   Ask Me Anything Shana asked about any recent Savers adventures. Tune in for a story that's more of a misadventure (spoiler alert- all ends well)   On a Happy Note Vegas- pool day with sharks in the tank & dressing as the Sanderson sisters for the Gala. Rhinebeck weekend. Great time with Mom, Liz and Riley. Liz did 100% of the driving and it saved me! I am so grateful. The 4 of us just got along so well and had so much fun. 2p meet-up. So many compliments on my sweaters- both Sat and Sun. Everyone loved Mom's sweater too. Found buttons for her on Saturday. Sing-a-long on the drive home from Rhinebeck. Liz found Mom's favorite blow up seat cushion when she dropped her fidget spinner under the seat and had to retrieve it! Laura (lauraknitspa) brought her Abington Mitts to show me (Ravelry Project Page link) I got to see our youngest niece and nephew- Gabriella & Zach when Dan and Oisin were over at their house putting in a new shed. We watched a Curious George Halloween Special that Gabriella was dying to show me, had a snack and read books in their tent before I had to go. Dan & I attended a Clue (movie based on the board game) Party as Miss Scarlet & Mr. Green. After striking out at the thrift stores, I bought a dress on Amazon that was more perfect than I realized. Thanks to Mom, I had the perfect costume jewelry. Dan brought all sorts of props from home for the "weapons." Fun was had by all.   Quote of the Week   Daily life may seem trivial and routine, but in fact it contains a multitude of incidents, at once rich, expansive, and touching. –YU HUA  ------     Contact Information: Check out the Down Cellar Studio Patreon! Ravelry: BostonJen & Down Cellar Studio Podcast Ravelry Group Instagram: BostonJen1 YouTube: Down Cellar Studio Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/downcellarstudio Sign up for my email newsletter to get the latest on everything happening in the Down Cellar Studio Check out my Down Cellar Studio YouTube Channel Knit Picks Affiliate Link Bookshop Affiliate Link Yarnable Subscription Box Affiliate Link Music -"Soft Orange Glow" by Josh Woodward. Free download: http://joshwoodward.com/ Note: Some links are listed as Amazon Affiliate Links. If you click those, please know that I am an Amazon Associate and I earn money from qualifying purchases.  

Assistant Distiller Ted Wolfe and Sales Director Brett Bauer are on the show, and they're not here to just talk whiskey. Sagamore is launching a new Amaro. Ted explains the intricate process of developing the herbal liqueur, and Brett shares the market execution of launching the Amaro in a Black Manhattan campaign across the US. Ted also shares his experience of studying astrophysics to developing sustainable farming in Paraguay with the Peace Corps, then a decade working in storm water restoration, and finally, ending up in the distillery at Sagamore.Guests: Ted Wolfe & Brett BauerHosts: Jake Hukee Sagamore SpiritListen to more episodes and read stories at keyinthelake.comKey In The Lake

After all the fun events they've been to, Jon and Zack are back to a simple tasting episode! The guys are a little tired tonight, so it's pretty short. Who can blame them? They're recording at 10 o'clock! That's way past Jon's bed time. Tonight, they are tasting Sagamore Spirits Rye Whiskey. They have some interesting thoughts about this one. Zack gets hit with something different every 5 minutes. Have a listen to see what they think, and don't forget to try one for yourself. Cheers!Sagamore Spirits Rye WhiskeySagamore Spirit Rye Whiskey - Sagamore SpiritIf you would like to purchase a hat click herehttps://forms.gle/edL9H3c9F9hYvJwX9Check out our YouTube Channel!https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCKGFGpl7f-TZLFdosAdTdvQIf you would like to become a patron of the show, please check out our Patreon site. https://www.patreon.com/thosedramyinzersBe sure to rate and review us on iTunesFind all other info on our site!Thosedramyinzers.com

Being an active and prodcutive part of your community is essential for hotel success. Juan Webster, GM and Corp Director of Social Impact, for Pendry and the Saganmore Pendry Baltimore, shares how helping the community is the gatewaty for propery profitability.

Being an active and prodcutive part of your community is essential for hotel success. Juan Webster, GM and Corp Director of Social Impact, for Pendry and the Saganmore Pendry Baltimore, shares how helping the community is the gatewaty for propery profitability.

In this milestone 100th episode, Chuck and Robbie are joined by a round table of industry experts and web developers with different philosophies, preferences, and experiences in the tech space to share their opinions on the state of web development. The round table includes Chris Coyier, Co-Founder of CodePen; Scott Tolinski, former Owner of Level Up Tutorials; Tracy Lee, CEO and Co-Founder of This Dot Labs; and Wes Bos, Founder of BosType Inc. The panel shares their opinions on the state of web development, reflecting on the journey from vanilla JavaScript to the rise of Tailwind CSS. They delve into the impact of Tailwind CSS on modern web development, discuss exciting new front-end APIs like the View Transitions API and Anchor Positioning API, and emphasize the importance of mastering JavaScript fundamentals. In this episode, Robbie and Chuck bring industry experts together for a captivating discussion filled with valuable insights on the evolution of front-end development, new web technologies, and their interests outside of web development. Key Takeaways [01:43] - An introduction to the round table of industry experts. [03:47] - A whiskey review: Sagamore and Benchmark. [07:00] - Tech hot takes. [21:14] - Scott's experience using popover API. [23:18] - Chuck discusses Chris' talk at RenderATL. [24:38] - How ChatGPT is negatively affecting Mozilla Firefox. [28:21] - What each guest would do if they weren't in web development? [32:46] - Interesting topics on Chuck's Twitter feed. [40:46] - What makes a milk? Quotes [09:11] - “CSS is getting so complex now that it has to be compiled.” ~ Wes Bos [23:15] - “Yeah, man, HTML rules.” ~ Scott Tolinski [25:33] - “People stopped using Google as much, they're going to AI.” ~ Wes Bos Links Chris Coyier Chris Coyier Twitter Chris Coyier LinkedIn Wes Bos Wes Bos Twitter Wes Bos LinkedIn Scott Tolinski Scott Tolinski Twitter Scott Tolinski LinkedIn Tracy Lee Twitter Tracy Lee LinkedIn Kelly Vaughn Twitter Kelly Vaughn LinkedIn RenderATL CodePen Syntax Podcast Level Up Tutorials This Dot Labs Modern Web Sentry Sagamore Spirit Benchmark Kentucky Straight Bourbon Tailwind CSS Twitter Nuxt Angular React JS jQuery Ember Netflix Rust Microsoft Safari Mozilla Firefox WWCD23 Google Apple ChatGPT IMBD Adobe After Effects The Dalmore 12 Ken Wheeler Nike Trader Joe's Smartless Podcast BlackRock Ferrari Make-A-Wish Foundation Apple News Connect with our hosts Robbie Wagner Chuck Carpenter Ship Shape Subscribe and stay in touch Apple Podcasts Spotify Google Podcasts Whiskey Web and Whatnot Top-Tier, Full-Stack Software Consultants This show is brought to you by Ship Shape. Ship Shape's software consultants solve complex software and app development problems with top-tier coding expertise, superior service, and speed. In a sea of choices, our senior-level development crew rises above the rest by delivering the best solutions for fintech, cybersecurity, and other fast-growing industries. Check us out at shipshape.io.

In this episode of the Big Success Podcast, Brad Sugars interviews Linda Clemons, a renowned sales trainer and expert in body language and communication skills. Linda shares her philosophies on success, emphasizing the importance of freedom and contentment. She believes that true success is achieved when one is at peace and has the power to choose. Tune in to learn from Linda's wisdom and experiences, and discover how to level up in both business and personal success.About Linda ClemonsBased in Indianapolis, Indiana, Linda Clemons is the CEO of Sisterpreneur® Inc. A top-tier sales producer and trainer in the resort/timeshare sector, her guidance has led clients to over two billion in sales.Certified in Analytic Interviewing and Statement Analysis™, Linda is a distinguished Body Language Expert, aiding in deception detection. Her clientele features notable names like Southwest Airlines, Coca-Cola, MGM, and the FBI, serving a wide range from celebrities to executives.Linda has graced stages with icons such as Oprah Winfrey, President Obama, and Apple's Steve Wozniak. Honors like the Office Depot National Entrepreneur Award and the Sagamore of the Wabash recognize her contributions.Her achievements include a mention in the United States Congressional Records and commendation from President Obama for community efforts. As a Rotary International member, she's also a National Board member for the National Congress of Black Women.Please click here to learn more about Linda Clemons.About Brad SugarsInternationally known as one of the most influential entrepreneurs, Brad Sugars is a bestselling author, keynote speaker, and the #1 business coach in the world. Over the course of his 30-year career as an entrepreneur, Brad has become the CEO of 9+ companies and is the owner of the multimillion-dollar franchise ActionCOACH®. As a husband and father of five, Brad is equally as passionate about his family as he is about business. That's why, Brad is a strong advocate for building a business that works without you – so you can spend more time doing what really matters to you. Over the years of starting, scaling and selling many businesses, Brad has earned his fair share of scars. Being an entrepreneur is not an easy road. But if you can learn from those who have gone before you, it becomes a lot easier than going at it alone.Please click here to learn more about Brad Sugars: https://bradsugars.com/Learn the Fundamentals of Success for free:The Big Success Starter: https://results.bradsugars.com/thebigsuccess-starter

Linda Clemons from Indianapolis, Indiana is the CEO of Sisterpreneur® Inc. Linda is an award-winning a record setting sales producer as well as one of the top sales trainers in the world in the resort/timeshare industry where clients have generated over two billion in sales.A Body Language Expert trained and certified in Analytic Interviewing and Statement Analysis ™ which is a process used to detect deception.Her clients and audiences to include Southwest Airlines, Coca-Cola, Spanx, Publicis, Nielsen, National Urban League, Nestle, MGM, Major League Baseball, Wells Fargo. Leo Burnett Worldwide, US Customs, FBI, Marriott, Hilton, Wyndham and Starwood. Linda's client list includes celebrities, executives, politicians, and entrepreneurs.Linda has opened for or shared the stage with such notables as Oprah Winfrey, President Obama, Steve Wozniak co-founder of Apple, Dr. Condoleezza Rice and Mary Jo White former SEC Chair. Awards to include but not limited to:Office Depot National Entrepreneur AwardWomen of Wealth Top Mentor AwardA listing in the United States Congressional Records for community work.Sagamore of the Wabash the highest civilian award given by the governor in the State of Indiana.Memberships-Rotary InternationalNational Board member for the National Congress of Black WomenRecognized by President Obama for community workPlease click here to learn more about Linda Clemons.About Brad Sugars Internationally known as one of the most influential entrepreneurs, Brad Sugars is a bestselling author, keynote speaker, and the #1 business coach in the world. Over the course of his 30-year career as an entrepreneur, Brad has become the CEO of 9+ companies and is the owner of the multimillion-dollar franchise ActionCOACH®. As a husband and father of five, Brad is equally as passionate about his family as he is about business. That's why, Brad is a strong advocate for building a business that works without you – so you can spend more time doing what really matters to you. Over the years of starting, scaling and selling many businesses, Brad has earned his fair share of scars. Being an entrepreneur is not an easy road. But if you can learn from those who have gone before you, it becomes a lot easier than going at it alone. That's why Brad has created 90 Days To Revolutionize Your Life – It's 30 minutes a day for 90 days, teaching you his 30 years experience on investing, business and life.Please click here to learn more about Brad Sugars.Learn the Fundamentals of Success for free: The Big Success Starter: https://results.bradsugars.com/thebigsuccess-starter Join Brad's programs here: 30X Life: https://results.bradsugars.com/30xlifechallenge 30X Business: https://results.bradsugars.com/30xbusinesschallenge 30X Wealth: https://results.bradsugars.com/30xwealthchallenge 90X – Revolutionize Your Life: https://30xbusiness.com/90daystorevolutionize Brad Sugars' Entrepreneur University: https://results.bradsugars.com/entrepreneuruniversity For more information, visit Brad Sugars' website: www.bradsugars.comFollow Brad on Social Media:YouTube: @bradleysugars Instagram: @bradleysugars Facebook: Bradley J SugarsLinkedIn: Brad SugarsTikTok: @bradleysugarsTwitter: BradSugars The Big Success Podcast https://businessinnovatorsradio.com/the-big-success-podcast/Source: https://businessinnovatorsradio.com/ep-26-linda-clemons-the-big-success-podcast-with-brad-sugars

This episode is a review of Sagamore Spirits Double Oak Rye Whiskey. We discuss the process Sagamore takes to make this whiskey. We give out our tasting notes and then rate it on our  @barrelsnbarrelspod  rating scale! Listen to find out where we have it ranked! 0:00 Show Open 0:30 Welcome In! 4:05 What's the Whiskey? 11:05 Our Tasting Notes 15:40 Rating the Whiskey 19:35 Baseball Trivia! 21:06 Goodbye! RATING SCALE Hall of Fame - The best of the best All-Star - The bottle you have back ups to your back ups of Everyday Player - A bottle you'll always want on your shelf Bench Player - Something to mix things up DFA'd - Cut from the team/get off my shelf! Download and subscribe to the pod! Spotify: https://bit.ly/BarrelsnBarrelsSpotify Apple: https://bit.ly/BarrelsnBarrelsApple Stitcher: https://bit.ly/BarrelsnBarrelsStitcher Watch our episodes YouTube: bit.ly/BarrelsnBarrelsYouTube Follow us on Social Media! Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/barrelsnbar... Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BarrelsnBarr... Twitter: https://twitter.com/barrelsnbarrels --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/barrels--barrels-podcast/support

On today's show, more High School Conference breakups. How could the Sagamore's recent defections effect local schools? And why does the Big Ten want to change it's Power 5 Non-con rule in football?

Watch this episode on YouTube:https://youtu.be/52Tv_nF4QS4Check us out on Instagram @curiosity_publichttps://www.instagram.com/curiosity_public/We have t-shirts! Grab them here:https://curiosity-public.myspreadshop.com/allhttps://www.redbubble.com/people/CuriosityPublic/shopJoin our Patreon:https://www.patreon.com/CuriosityPublicStay curious!All claims made here about alcohol, whether in this podcast, in this description, or on our Youtube channel, are solely our opinions and intended only for those of legal drinking age.  All links provided here should only be accessed by those of legal drinking age.

This week: The owner of the Pilgrim Nuclear Plant says it is applying for a permit to dump radioactive water into Cape Cod Bay. Also, we've got details on the new Sagamore bridge – where's its likely to go, and how we'll get on and off of it. And Massachusetts lobstermen gather in Hyannis for a trade show like no other.

This week: The state rolls out ten options for connecting the new Bourne and Sagamore bridges to local roads. Also, three hundred islanders travel to the statehouse to demand action on the housing crisis. And: the season's first right whale mother-calf pair arrives.

The Bourne and Sagamore bridges are nearly 90 years old and need a serious overhaul. Approximately 5 million visitors travel over these bridges annually to visit Cape Cod and they are vital to the Cape's economy. A study done in 2019 outlines the need for major reconstruction as these bridges are functionally obsolete. Funding for the project is estimated at $3.98 billion for two new bridges and Congressman Lynch feels the price tag is part of the reason why the request has been denied and stated it could be built closer to half that amount. U.S. Representative Lynch joined Dan to discuss infrastructure, the debt ceiling, China, and more!

It's This Week in Bourbon for January 27th 2023. Fireball drinkers are suing Sazerac for misleading labels. Drizly and GoPuff announce a new partnership to provide immediate, on-demand delivery of drinks. Sagamore Spirit releases of its limited-edition Reserve Series 8-Year-Old Rye Whiskey.Show Notes: Fireball drinkers are suing Sazerac for misleading labels CeeLo Green joins forces with the Black-owned Victor George Spirits Grain & Barrel Spirits has announced a multi-year partnership with PGA TOUR Pro Golfer Kevin Kisner Elijah Craig announced a new multi-year partnership with sports broadcaster Amanda Balionis Renner Drizly and GoPuff announce a new partnership to provide immediate, on-demand delivery of drinks Midway University's online MBA in Tourism and Event Management program A new Israeli bourbon called Dew of B'Dolah by Thinkers Distillery Chattanooga Whiskey announced Silver Oak Cabernet Cask Finished and Batch XXIX: Centenary Cask Boondocks 18 Year Old Straight Bourbon Whiskey Sagamore Spirit releases of its limited-edition Reserve Series 8-Year-Old Rye Whiskey @fireballwhiskey @ceelogreen @vgvodka @chickencockwhiskey @kevin_kisner @elijahcraig @balionisrenner @drizlyinc @gopuff @midwayuniv @thinkers.@distillery @chattwhiskey @sagamorespirit Support this podcast on Patreon

Brett Bauer is back to share the development of Sagamore's private barrel program. Sagamore has a unique blending process of seven-year-old rye whiskey to create private selects for retailers, bars and clubs across the country. Brett breaks down the Maryland distillery's intricate process private rye barrels.Guest: Brett BauerHosts: Jake HukeeListen to more episodes and read stories at keyinthelake.com

It's This Week in Bourbon for November 18th 2022. Redemption loses its lawsuit with Diageo and must change bottles. Sagamore spirit releases their own 5 year bottled in bond. Kentucky Owl and Barrell Bourbon are both releasing $500 bottles Show Notes: Bardstown Bourbon Co will have a new experience in downtown Louisville Pernod Ricard has invested US$22 million to install its first RTD canning line Redemption has been forced to stop bottles after it failed to get Diageo's injunction order thrown out Nearest Green Distillery has announced that it will add three permanent expressions Sagamore Spirit has released its second annual Sagamore Spirit Bottled in Bond Straight Rye Whiskey Hemingway Rye Whiskey First Edition with the release of the inaugural 972 bottles Blue Run Spirits announces Blue Run Emerald Rye Whiskey Puncher's Chance announces its oldest whiskey to date with the release of Puncher's Chance Bourbon: THE LEFT CROSS Stoli Group announces Kentucky Owl Batch #12 and Kentucky Owl Mardi Gras XO Cask Limited Edition Barrell Craft Spirits Announces BCS Gold Label Dovetail @bardstownbourbonco @pernodricard @redemptionwhiskey @diageo @builleit @unclenearest @sagamorespirit @bluerunspirits @puncherschancebourbon @kentuckyowl @barrellbourbon Support this podcast on Patreon

Our Strange Tale comes from The CBS Radio Mystery Theater this week. From December 31, 1975, here's their story Sagamore Cottage. More from The CBS Radio Mystery Theater https://www.podtrac.com/pts/redirect.mp3/archive.org/download/rr12022/StrangeTales668.mp3 Download StrangeTales668 Support Strange Tales

Chef Neill Howell was born in England. His father's career in the army moved the family quite often, taking them not only to Northern Ireland (his mother's native country), but also Hong Kong and Brunei. After catering college, Neill worked to refine his chef skills through his employment in London, New York City, Los Angeles and now Baltimore. Neill's vast London experience in restaurants such as Langan's Brasserie, Asia De Cuba, Hush, Home House and The Grove Hotel earned him a job in the United States. ​Prior to his Executive Chef role here in Baltimore at Bond Street Social, he served as Executive Chef for 4 years at one of New York City's most popular dining establishments of it's time  - The Stanton Social in the Lower East Side. It was the exclusive Soho House New York that orginally brought him stateside. There he catered to a celebrity clientele at the New York location and in Los Angeles during Oscar Events. It his also where he met his wife and co-owner, Emily.  Since opening The Corner Pantry, Neill has been able to truly discover who he is as a chef - utilizing fresh, local ingredients while pulling inspiration from his life, work and travels around the globe.  He is a proud father of Annabelle (8) and Clive (4) and spends his time outside of the kitchen training in the pool or on the road for his other passion, triathalon competitions. The Truth In This ArtThe Truth In This Art is a podcast interview series supporting vibrancy and development of Baltimore & beyond's arts and culture. Mentioned in this episode:The Corner Pantry To find more amazing stories from the artist and entrepreneurial scenes in & around Baltimore, check out my episode directory. Stay in TouchNewsletter sign-upSupport my podcastShareable link to episode ★ Support this podcast ★

Juan Webster, General Manager Sagamore Pendry Baltimore, maintains over 15 years of extensive, wide ranging experience in hotel management and operations, and a deep understanding of the Baltimore market. As the first-ever Corporate Director of Social Impact, Juan will create and implement programs and processes to expand our positive impact within our communities. Webster is also the first to hold a position designed to facilitate greater diversity and inclusion in all of our practices in order to foster a true sense of equity for associates across our organization.Having graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill with a degree in Sociology, he continued his studies at North Carolina Central University in the Hospitality and Tourism Department and he was also presented with the Doctor of Arts Honoris Causa from Stratford University in Hospitality Management. Though having served within several high-end luxury resort companies, he dedicates a substantial amount of time to acknowledge the need for socioeconomic support within the local Baltimore community.Juan currently sits on the board of directors for Visit Baltimore, Downtown Partnership of Baltimore, Kennedy Krieger Institute's PACT Foundation and Suited to Succeed Baltimore. With the aid of his wife, he founded the LACC Foundation focused on satisfying the immediate needs of the homeless. He has worked with many local and national committees through Baltimore including the Baltimore City Public Schools where he helped uplift students and amplify their achievements both academically and through service.Webster also provided mentorship and labor to the International Rescue Committee, National Society of Minorities in Hospitality, Union, St. Vincent de Paul of Baltimore, Catholic Charities of Baltimore, Choo Smith Foundation and The Movement Team.The Truth In This ArtThe Truth In This Art is a podcast interview series supporting vibrancy and development of Baltimore & beyond's arts and culture. Mentioned in this episode:Juan Webster To find more amazing stories from the artist and entrepreneurial scenes in & around Baltimore, check out my episode directory. Stay in TouchNewsletter sign-upSupport my podcastShareable link to episode ★ Support this podcast ★

Bike Report… Here is a slightly more scripted version of my 2 day ride across Massachusetts.   I scheduled it as a 4-day adventure.  This is one of those things that you learn from doing long or hard or ultra-type events.  Give yourself some buffer time. I have always violated this rule.  Partly because my life has always been busy, or I have convinced myself that it was, and I had to rush to get to events and then rush back.  I have always tried to not be that guy who talks too much about this stuff at work.  I realized early on that this is my obsession, and the rest of the world may or may not give a shit.  I've been more than willing to talk about it in depth when asked, or in this purpose-built forum for that outlet, but I have always taken pains not to be THAT GUY in the office.  As a result, most of the people I've worked with know vaguely that I train all the time, but seldom have the gift of knowing exactly what or when I'm doing an event.  That vagueness allows work activity to crowd around the events and I find myself running a marathon in the morning and jumping on a plane in the afternoon.  I think it also fits that egoistic self-image I have had of being the indestructible man that can pop in and out of events that other people can't even fathom.  Even my acts of humility are ego-centric! There are advantages to not buffering time around an event.  If you show up just in time for the event it doesn't give you time to think too much about it.  You can get much more adventure in the day by not being prepared and not knowing the course, etc.  Just show up doesn't fit many peoples' brains but I enjoy the adventure of it.  If you jet off after the event you don't have time to wallow in your misery. But the disadvantages of this cramming in events, especially big events, are manifold.  You can make mistakes that you could have avoided by being just a bit more prepared.  Like, for instance, not thinking about how the temperature drops below freezing in the mountains at night.  And, most regretfully, you don't really get a chance to let it sink in.  Many of those races I've run are just blurry memories of a fast weekend spent somewhere doing something hard.  I've found that no matter how good shape you're in, a multi-day event will mess with your thinking ability.  It's best to take a day off after because you're going to be useless anyhow. For this ride, I took 4 days off to ride around 250 miles in 2 days.  I enlisted my wife to crew for me.  I suppose this is one of the advantages of having a long-term relationship.  You can just casually drop something like this… “Hey, take Friday and Monday off we're going out to Western Mass and you're going to follow me while I ride across the state for 2 days.” And that doesn't end the relationship.  … Day one was Friday.  We got up and I took Ollie down to the local kennel when it opened at 9AM.  This was Ollie's first time being kenneled – so it was a bit like first day of school for your kids.  I had a pang of sadness driving back to the house in my truck with the passenger seat empty.  I had done my best to make sure all my stuff was organized.  We drove out a pretty section of Rte 2 west into the Berkshires and the Mohawk Trail.  Western Mass is a pretty place.  All hills and farms and little; towns. Those same little towns that you'll find in Vermont or New Hampshire.  A bit of a tourist trap but really pretty without being entirely off the map. We took the new truck with my bike in the back. I prepped my bike earlier in the week.  I washed it and cleaned the chain and derailleurs as best I could.  It's a messy and dirty job.  It requires using a degreaser and a toothbrush.  Kids, this degreaser chemical is very dangerous.  Remember to wear rubber gloves and safety glasses when you're cleaning your bike chain.  Once you get it all sparkly clean then you can rub a little bike grease back into the chain and sprocket.  This really helps the efficiency of the drivetrain and keeps the shifting action clean.  You can ride on a dirty chain, but it will slow you down and eventually something will break. I wore my old Northface water backpack.  I think it holds more than a liter.  It has enough room to carry my tools and food and whatever else I need comfortably.  That old pack is like a second skin for me.  I've worn it in many, many ultras.  For tools I carry a small pump and a multitool.  In my underseat pack I carry an extra tube, levers and a patch kit.  I had one bike bottle in the cage on the bike for just water.  I actually found this bike bottle by the side of the road after the local triathlon.  It was perfectly new from one of the local bike shops.  You may think I'm crazy, and you'd be correct, but I washed it out and it's fine.  I prepped up enough 24 oz water bottles with Ucan for the ride and put those in a cooler with ice.  I made some protein smoothies too, for emergency meals, extra fuel if needed and recovery.  Smoothies are a good source of clean calories.  The 24 oz bottles of Ucan mix I stuck in the back of my bike shirt on both sides for the ride.  This provides clean fuel with some electrolytes. This sounds like a lot of stuff, but it was all the result of what I had learned in my training over the summer.  I knew I could get 4+ hours of hard work in the heat with that set up.  A liter or so of clean water in the pack.  A full bottle of water in the cage and 2 X 24oz bottles of fuel mix in my shirt.  That may sound uncomfortable to carry, but it really isn't bad on a bike.  You've got the mechanical advantage and can carry a lot of stuff comfortably.  I stopped at a grocery on the way out and bought a handful of Cliff bars and other packaged edibles.  I also had my favorite pitted dates in a baggy.  All this fuel went into the back pack.  Then there was the electronics. I decided to use Google Maps with the bike route option selected.  This meant I would have to have my phone with me, and it would have to stay charged.  This is a challenge because having the maps open for navigation all day long drains your phone battery very fast.  Especially when you're riding through the mountains in the middle of nowhere.  Yes, it also uses a ton of data.  If you don't have an unlimited plan, don't do this at home kids.  Where to put the phone?  While I was training, I started out putting the phone in a plastic bag in my backpack. But that is a pain in the ass because you have to stop and get it out of the pack to use it.  So I bought a fairly inexpensive handlebar mount for it.  It's basically a stretchy rubber cage that I attached right in the center of the handlebar.  In this set up the phone is inches from my face and easy to access. If it rains you can put the phone in a plastic bag before you put it into the holder.  That plastic bag makes it harder to use the touch screen, but for my ride both day were sunny, so I mounted it au naturel. Next question was how to keep power in the battery.  This worked out way better than I expected.  I bought a pair of those charging bricks from the internet.  I didn't know how long they would last.  I had a plan to swap the charge brick out for a fresh one if needed in the middle of the ride.  I put one in the under-seat pack with the cable running along the frame tube up to the phone.  At first, I thought I'd have to zip tie the phone cable in place, but I was able to snake the cable around the top tube in such a way that it was attached to the phone and the battery pack with no slack.  That worked great.  I didn't know if this pack would give me 30 minutes of juice or 30 hours of juice.  That's why I got two.  I figured I could hot swap them out when I met Yvonne during the ride.  But as it turns out I had nothing to fear.  Even burning all that data with the GPS and radio on the whole time the charge pack kept the phone at 100%.  To cap this all off I had my Mifo ear pods.  These are little, wireless ear pods, that I trained all summer in.  They fit snuggly in the ear and had both the stereo headphones and a microphone for talking. It was a great set up. I listened to podcasts and audio books all day.  I had my phone right in front of me so I could even skip commercials!  I could also make and receive phone calls without even slowing down.  And the Google maps lady was instructing me with turn-by-turn voice commands the whole time, so I wouldn't get lost.  It was awesome! Besides that, I wore normal bike Chamois shorts with underarmour sport undergarments.  I lathered up all the risky bits and my under carriage with Squirrel's Nut Butter.  I had this left over from my last ultra.  It works great as an under-carriage lube.  I also wore a knee sleeve on my left knee, which is the one that was giving me trouble.  I wore my Garmin 235 watch but did not use the chest strap.  I don't really need to know my heart rate with that much precision when I'm riding.  It never gets anywhere near max.  That was my set up.  Was I nervous?  No, not at all.  I was confident I could do it.  It wasn't that much of a stretch.  I was happy to be off on an adventure.  To be spending some time out of my home office with my wife.  Friday we got out to North Adams in the afternoon after a casual drive on a nice day.  We had a nice lunch.  We drove around North Adams, Williamstown and Williams college.  We had an early dinner and I set the alarm for 5:00 AM. … Saturday morning I got up with the alarm and made a cup of coffee.  The sun wasn't going to come up until closer to 6:00.  Making room-coffee in the dark I mistakenly had a cup of decaf before I realized my mistake.  I loaded up all my stuff and woke my wife up to drive me to the starting point.  … I'll cover the ride itself in a subsequent episode.  … Continuing with my bike report.  Let's pick it up at Day 1 of the ride. This is the one part of the ride that I had done some actual research on.  My original plan had been to find the marker for where Massachusetts, New York and Vermont touch in the western corner of Massachusetts.  But, on Googling the map I saw that the point was actually back in the woods a good distance with no real road access.  And it looked like the access trail was on the Vermont side which added significant miles to the trip. Given that I was riding my mountain bike I could probably find a way to make that work; but consulting the map again it would make the trip very long.   It would add some unknown trail miles right out of the gate and I didn't really think I'd have the time to go up and plot the route. To avoid that little bit of drama and the extra miles, I looked around the map to see what the closest town was to that point.  I discovered that Williamstown was right there in the upper corner and had a hotel I could use points at.  So, I booked that.  This was probably about a month out.  Then I started looking at potential bike routes.  I did this by using the bicycle option on Google maps.  It's a swell tool, Google maps.  If you choose the bicycle option it will keep you off the highways and find any available rail trails.  The first pass route, starting from the hotel was 256 miles, which seemed doable in 2 days.  Unfortunately Gooogle Maps also provides the elevation profile.  You have to understand that Massachusetts is relatively flat state.  We've got rolling hills.  Lots of rolling hills.  But we don't have any mountains.  Any real mountains.  As it turns out our tallest mountain is mount Greylock.  Mount Greylock is only 3489 feet tall.  As it also turns out Mount Greylock is in Adams Massachusetts.  Adams, as it turns out is just to the east of Williamstown.  I had, in my hubris created a route that had me climbing the highest point in the state first thing in the morning on the first day.  I have not doubt I could do it, but it caused some consideration.  I decided that it might be a good idea to start on the top of the mountain ridge.  Which, in fact would shave about 20 miles off the ride.  That seemed like a reasonable thing to do.  My race, my rules – as McGillvray always says. I really wanted to get out and drive some of the route, but did not really have the bandwidth.  An opportunity arose, like they sometimes do, when my running Buddy Frank suggested we go for a motorcycle ride one Friday afternoon a couple weeks before my scheduled ride.  I took him up on it.  On a brilliant August afternoon we rode the length of Route 2 out to North Adams and Williamstown.  I checked out the hotel.  We did a bit of poking around the towns.  My plan was to ride as much of the bike route as possible on the way back home.  Frank had to bail but I was able to trace the route up out of Adams on an old 2-lane highway, 8A. I knew that where 8A met 116 would be about the peak elevation and I rode to that point on my motore cycle. Let me tell you it was not an encouraging route.  It was a few thousand feet of steady climb, some of it quite steep, on roads with no shoulder.  Bad roads too,  beat to crap roads.  And in places the Google route actually routed me through some old hilltop farms on a dirt road, which was quite scenic and everything but not good for making time on a bicycle.  That reconnoiter of the climb up and out of Adams over the steepest, highest ridge in the state sealed the deal for me.  I made a mental note to have my wife drop me off at the high point. I mean it wasn't that I thought I couldn't do it, it just seemed unnecessary to the project.  If that climb had been in the middle of the ride, or even at the end, I would have been more optimistic about it. But given I was planning on a century a day, I didn't want to burn all my matches in the first hour.  … Going into the ride I had trained over the summer.  Basically 3-4 rides week with one of those being along ride on the Saturday.  I managed to get my long ride up to somewhere around 70-something miles.  I also got some good data on nutrition and fluid consumption, especially in the heat of the summer.  A couple of those long rides were really hot days  This is how I figured out that I could carry enough to get through 4-5 hours on a hot day before I needed a pit stop.  On a cool day I could ride all day on the same water and fuel.  Back to the route.  Since I was shanghaiing my wife into this adventure I thought I should at least consider making things palatable.  Looking at the possible routes and where we would end up at the end of the first day I realized that it was close to Foxboro, which of course is the home of the New England Patriots, who my wife loves.  And the Hotel at Patriot's Place, it turned out, was another I could use points at.  Now it was coming together.  Looking at the revised route, with the new start point and the planned end point, that gave me about 120ish miles for Day 1.  That seemed reasonable.  Next I had to figure out how long that would take me.  Since I was riding my mountain bike I wouldn't be able to go as fast.  I knew form my training I was averaging around 15 miles an hour.   Doing the math on that would give me a 8 hour day.  But, in training, I knew the routes and was pushing pretty hard.  I didn't want to push that hard on the ride, because I had a long way to go and didn't want to burn out.  If 15 was the top end guesstimate, what was the worst case?  I figured if I really got in trouble and slowed way down, I'd still be able to manage 10 miles an hour.  That would give me a 12 ish hour day.  Which was still within the daylight hours.  I definitely didn't want to be out on the roads exhausted in the dark.  I wasn't as concerned about the second day.  I knew that part of the ride was pretty flat and when I got onto Cape Cod I would know where I was.  I would be in familiar territory.  … On the morning I got all my stuff packed up and ready and loaded into the truck.  She wasn't super happy about being woken up at the crack of dawn from her comfy hotel bed to drive me to the drop off.  She got exceedingly less happy as we wound through the old farm roads and up the mountain.  Finally as she dropped me off I was bubbling with excitement.  I was nervous and happy and ready to roll. She was in a foul mood.  From her point of view, I had just driven her into the middle of nowhere and abandoned her.  I had to stop her and give her a speech.  Something like “Listen, your role here is to support me, not to bitch at me.”  Which seemed to bring her around. And I was off… It was cool, in the 60's and after 6:00 AM when I finally launched.  The first sections flew by.  Literally.  Because I had started on the top of the ridge there were these long downhills where I was probably holding 30 miles per hour for miles at a time without touching the pedals.  Of course what goes up must eventually come down and there were some good size climbs as well.  For those climbs I took it easy, stayed in the seat and used my gears to conserve energy.  My strategy on this first day was to not do anything stupid.  I had looked at the maps and tried to find some really obvious places for my wife to meet me.  I settled on a grocery store in North Hampton that was about 25 miles in and then another grocery store in Worcester about 77 miles in.  That would give me 3-4 hours of riding before each pit stop.  I wrote all the stop addresses and approximate distances and times out for her – which if you know me, is probably the most organized I've ever been for an event.  I usually just wing it. That first 25 miles was wonderful.  Lots of downhill, some interesting back roads.  The traffic was light.  I took it easy and enjoyed myself.  Pulling over when I needed to, pull over and staying hydrated.  The ear buds and the phone worked like a champ.  The phone stayed fully charged and the nice lady from Google was reading turn by turn directions into my ears.  I had my phone right in front of me on the handlebars and could sort through podcasts and fast forward when I needed to skip commercials.  This is where my first logistical mistake got me.  With my wife needing to go back to the hotel to check out, she couldn't catch me for the first stop.  I had just assumed that with me being out on the road for 8-12 hours she would be able to leisurely follow along and take side trips as she wanted and still have plenty of time to catch me.  But this first morning with here having to go back to the hotel and me flying down the hills there was no way she was going to make that 25 mile stop.  It was ok.  I had her on the phone through the earbuds, so we weren't lost or panicking, I was just going to need to push through.  I had my wallet and my phone with me, so I probably wasn't going to die. At the same time as this stop got aborted another wonderful thing happened.  I found the Norwottuck Rail trail that runs 11 miles from North Hampton through Amherst on a beautifully maintained trail.  Amherst is where the University of Massachusetts is.  The trail has a nice bridge over the Connecticut River.  It was a joy to be spinning along on a rail trail.  They even had porta-potties.  I stopped and ate some food and enjoyed myself immensely in this section.  It was now mid-morning.  And it was starting to heat up.  The next section through the hills towards Worcester was challenging.  Lots of construction.  Lots of hills.  More traffic and bigger roads without much tree cover.  The day peaked out around 95 degrees and sunny.  It was hot.  As I was grinding the hills in the heat I realized I wasn't going to have enough fluids to make it to the next stop.  I was losing too much sweat in the baking heat.  My energy was good but I was getting dehydrated.  With another 40-50 miles to ride and another long day coming I uncharacteristically pulled over to a gas-station convenience store.  I bought a liter of water and a Gatorade.  They were ice cold.  I drank all the Gatorade right there and it was mana from heaven.  My feet were falling asleep from all the climbing.  I was soaked with sweat.  My butt was sore.  Back on the bike feeling hot and tired and a little bit nauseous I cranked through the city hills to where my wife was waiting in the parking lot of a big grocery store.  I drank some more water, filled up my fluids and swapped out two more bottles of UCann.  I was beat.  I took my shoes off and let my feet air out a bit.  It was a welcome respite.  Knowing the evils of spending too much time in the aid station I bid her adieu and mounted back up for the final push of the day.  But, I did feel a bit refreshed.  The last chunk was a bit of a grind.  I had another 40-something miles to push.  At least the sun was starting to go down, but I was worn out.  Two things happened that made the day longer.  The first one was I lost one of my earbuds.  I was screaming down a hill and felt it coming loose.  I tried to grab it with one hand.  I thought I had caught it and trapped it in my shirt.  But I couldn't brake with one hand .  By the time I was able to slow down and stop it was gone.  I dis a desultory search along the length of the shoulder of the road on the hill, but it was gone.  It wasn't a total loss.  I still had the left one and could still here the navigation and everything else.  It actually was kind of nice because with only one I could hear the noises around me better.  The second thing was a detour.  I was watching the map click down.  I knew I was under 20 miles form my destination.  All of a sudden the road was blocked!  There was a detour.  And as I followed the detour, of course the map was screaming at me.  So I had to stop and zoom in and out and see how to backtrack around the detour to get back on route.  It ended up adding 6+ miles to the day.  Which doesn't sound like a lot, but it happened right towards the end for maximum emotional impact! Finally, as I was turning into the back parking lot of Patriot's Place in Foxboro, I heard a noise.  That noise was the loud leaking of a punctured rear tire.  That's right.  Less than a mile away from the hotel I picked up something in the back tire.  I road it until it went flat and called my wife.  And I called it a day. I was tired, sore and hot.  There was no way I was going to change a flat tire by the side of the road for the priviledge of riding ½ mile to the hotel.  I stopped the Garmin at 127.78 miles, 10:03 total time for an average speed of 12.7 Miles per hour. Yvonne came and rescued me.  We took some pictures.  I cleaned up.  We went out for dinner in Patriots place – Pizza and beer.  I slept well, wondering what it would be like to get back on the bikein the morning for another full day of riding. Outro…  So that's where I'll leave it.  I'll pick up on Day 2 in the next episode.  To take you out I'll give you an update on where I'm at.  Right now I'm freezing. It got cold today.  It's the first day of autumn here in New England.  I'm a cold weather guy, but it takes a few weeks for your body to adapt.  And it's dark when I get up in the morning.  Winter is coming! Fitness-wise I still tread the crooked path.  I started a body-building campaign 3 weeks ago, on the first of September.  It was going great.  Really was.  I felt strong.  My balance felt good.  My legs had some bounce in them.  I would recommend this beginner body building program. A question you might ask is what's the difference between weightlifting and body building.  That's a good question.  Both involve lifting weights.  Body building is lifting weight to shape the muscles.  Which I didn't really get until I started doing this program.  Think about it like shading in a picture that makes a feature stand out.  Body building is weightlifting for muscle growth in specific places.  Which, on my old body, doesn't' make a hill ‘o beans of difference, but it's kinda fun to see the muscles changing shape in a very short period of time due to this focus.  Kinda fun. But that fun came to an abrupt end last Friday when I was pulling a dumbbell off the rack at an odd angle and threw out my back.  I know you're getting that schadenfreude felling, aren't you?  You thinking, “I know that idiot was going to over-do it and hurt himself.” Yup.  I'm that idiot.  But in my defense I wasn't actually doing a weightlifting exercise at the time, I was pulling the weights off the rack.  So at least a week off.  Couldn't straighten up for a couple days.  Lots of pain.  A trip to the chiropractor, who by the way is on a first name basis with me.  What does it say about us that our doctors are always excited and happy to see us? Speaking of which my physical bloodwork didn't turn up anything awful but…  But… They did add a note to tell me that my cholesterol doubled in the last year.  Not running + shitty diet = bad cholesterol.  I immediately went on a plant-based diet.  I needed to anyhow.  I was just too have and it's not healthy. My plan is to restart my body building next week.  To take it back to day 1, because I was only 2 weeks in, and lower the weight, focus on the form.  At the same time the Dr. wants me back in 90 days to check that cholesterol.  I will eat plant-based until then and most-likely lose 15-20 pounds in the process. And next week, drum roll please, I meet with the knee Doctor.  Maybe he'll have some new ideas.  I tell you what, this cool weather makes me want to head out into the woods on a run.  If all those things come together just right … I might end up being a mediocre old guy. I'll take it.  As we say it's all frosting on the cake at this point. The warranty has expired and there's no expectations except opening your eyes and smiling in the morning.  Smile baby, And I'll see you out there. … Day 3… Hello again friends.  Let's wrap this race report up.  If you haven't been following along, this is the third in a series of recaps for the 250 bike ride I did this summer across Massachusetts.  I budgeted 4 days for the trip with 2 days of riding bracketed by a day of buffer on both ends. This is Day 3 of the trip and Day 2 of the ride. As I recapped last time Day 1 of the ride from Savoy Mass to Patriots Place in Foxboro ended up being 127.7 miles based on my Garmin.  It was a challenging hot day through the back roads and hill towns of western Mass that took me just over 10 hours.  I did not stop my Garmin at any point, so that 10:15 includes all the breaks.  I have learned that whenever I stop my watch at a break I inevitably forget to turn it back on.  I hit a detour and had a flat at the end that slowed me down a bit as well.  After dinner on Saturday night I changed the tire and tube of the flat.  I had 2 extra brand new tires with me.  As I have recounted earlier, I was riding my Mountain Bike.  I bought some small block tires with a less aggressive tread.  These were not road tires, per se, but they were closer to road tires.  But by the time I got to this ride they had worn significantly from all the road training.  Especially the rear tire, where I picked up the flat.  I decided to swap out the whole tire and tube for new.  Partly because it was easier than monkeying around with the old stuff, partly because it was time.  I left the front old front tire on.  It was in better shape and I didn't see a need to do the work in my tired state or to introduce more variables at that point. I cleaned up the bike a bit.  Put some more lube on the chain, got all my gear ready to go for the next morning, set the alarm and slept like a rock.  Both of the hotels we got for this trip were newer properties and really nice.  No problems at all.  Nobody gave me a hard time dragging my dirty, smelly self and my big bike through the hotel.  As a matter of fact, there was a wedding going on at the Patriots Place hotel and my wife saw Rick Hoyt. I did not go in and say ‘hi' but apparently one of the Hoyt clan was having a wedding reception in the hotel. Day two I had about 120 miles on the plan.  My first pit-stop planned was at a Starbucks 40 miles in to meet Yvonne.  I had scheduled 3 stops into this day thinking that I might need them.  I'd need to get across southeastern Mass from Foxboro to the Cape Cod Canal.  I'd need to get over the Canal.  From there I would find my way over to the start of the Cape Cod Rail Trail that runs from Yarmouth all the way up to Wellfleet, where I'd meet my wife again and have just a short push up top Provincetown to the end.  When I got up in the morning it was cool and foggy.  I felt good.  Part of the unknown about this trip was how it would feel to get back on the bike on that second day.  Turns out it felt fine.  On this day Yvonne didn't have to get up to drive me anywhere, I departed from the hotel and made my way out through the parking areas of Gillette Stadium to get back on route.  I had the same set up with my phone mounted on the center of the handlebars and wired into a battery pack under the seat.  I had my one remaining left ear pod in with the nice Google Maps lady giving me the turn by turns.  I had purchased an audio book for the ride called “Team of Rivals' about Abraham Lincoln's presidency and cabinet.  There I was peddling easy in the cool morning mist through the back roads of southeastern Mass learning all about Salmon Chase and Edward Stanton.  Fascinating stuff. The geography of southeastern Mass is different from the northern and western parts of the state.  It's mostly flat and near the coast.  There are cranberry bogs and small cites.  I rode through Bridgewater in the early part of the day which is a, how shall we say, ‘working class' part of the state.  I got yelled at for jumping a 4-way-stop.  And he was right.  We Massholes are very particular about some things, 4-way-stop rules being one of them.  There was a fair amount of road construction in this section where I had to deal with the sticky new road and the prepped, grated gravel.  Some of the back roads were a bit beat up.  My legs felt fine.  I was able to keep my nutrition going fine.  My butt and feet were okay.  All systems go.  Answering that question of ‘how would that second day feel?'  I felt fine.  I was also able to spend more time in the aero position which helped me relax. I met up with Yvonne at a Starbucks in Wareham.  She managed to get there ahead of me!  I fueled up and had her order me an iced coffee.  She came out with a hot coffee, which was fine, but I just got off the bike from riding 40 miles and really wanted an ice coffee.  After much waiting on the Starbucks brain-trust, I finally got my iced coffee, but I wanted to get going so I put it into one of my bike bottles which was an awesome treat as a rode the next few miles. As I got closer to the canal I was on some busy roads through Wareham and had to pay attention to not get run over by tourists.  The next big unknown for me was how I was going to navigate the canal.  Google maps seemed to think it was possible.  I would find out.  The Cape Cod Canal is a waterway that cuts straight across the base of the arm of Cape Cod from south to north.  It was created 100 years ago so that ships wouldn't have to go all the way around Cape Cod the long way.  It is about 17 miles long running from Buzzards Bay in the south up to Cape Cod Bay in the north.  For the purpose of our narrative the canal cuts right across our route.  We have to get over it.  There are two big Army Corps of Engineer bridges over the canal.  The Bourne and the Sagamore.  These are old-style high bridges to allow ship traffic to go under them.  They are two narrow, highspeed lanes in each direction with a high sidewalk on one side.  They were not designed for bicycle traffic. Back to the story.  Again the Google Maps did a great job of finding rail trails for me to follow.  It popped me out on the southern end of the canal and onto the canal trail.  This was another one of those cool discoveries for me.  It turns out there is a beautifully maintained bike trail that runs the length of the canal on both sides.  This was about 50 miles into the second day, and it was late morning by the time I hit the canal trail.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day.  Lots of people and families were out on the trail.  It routed me up the west side of the canal under the Bourne Bridge and all the way up to the Sagamore, where, apparently I'd be making that crossing. I had to get across one busy road to circle around the back and up onto the raised sidewalk of the bridge.  This sidewalk is raised up above the road surface by a tall granite curb.  There is no railing. So you are a couple short feet away from the screaming metal hellscape of 4 narrow lanes of highspeed traffic.  The signs said to walk your bike.  I did not.  But I did stop at the apex of the bridge arch to take a video with the boats way down below in the peaceful canal.  One funny thing was that the sidewalk was covered with pennies and other coins.  As far as I could determine people were throwing coins out the window of their cars over the sidewalk and railing into the canal.  Like a big wishing well, I guess.  I think this custom goes back to the Romans paying tribute to the water gods.  The pennies that didn't make it over the railing gathered up on the raised sidewalk.  I wonder if there's a notice for boats in the canal to be wary of high-velocity coinfall? Once I got over the bridge it was a quick button-hook back down to the canal trail on the other side.  It was starting to get hot again, but the trial was beautiful, paved, wide, and of course porta-potties! Yay.   The next bit of road was the dicey-est part of this day's ride.  After I got off the rail trail I had to navigate Rte. 6A which is an old, windy, narrow highway with no shoulder and a lot of disappearing shoulder that dropped off into sandy nothingness. I met Yvonne again at another coffee shop around 70 miles in and was in very good spirits.  The ride was going well.  I felt fine.  And I now knew everything there was to know about 19th century American politics. AND I was about to get on the Cape Cod Rail Trail which was home territory for me.  This 25 mile stretch of paved rail trail was where I had been training all summer.  Or at least on those weekends when I was down at my house in Harwich.  But, I had to get over to the rail trail in Yarmouth from the coffee shop on 6A where I met Yvonne.  This ended up being harder than I thought.  First I had to deal with 6A again and then I had to cut across the ‘Arm' of the Cape from north-ish to south-ish to pick up the trail.  One thing most people don't know about Cape Cod is that it is quite hilly in the interior.  Not hilly like Colorado or even like where I live but lots of pesky little rolling hills.  And finally it turns out Google Maps is confused about where the western trailhead for the trail is.  The maps routed me to the middle of nowhere with no trails in sight.  Luckily I knew generally where I was and was able to route to a landmark next to where I knew there was a trailhead in Dennis.  But, it wasted a lot of time and energy.  Once on the trail I was on easy street for a couple hours.  It was still a hot day but the trail has great cover and it's easy going.  Which was good because I was into the 90's mile-wise and was starting to feel the cumulative tiredness of riding for two days straight.  The next and last stop was at the Wellfleet trailhead at the north end of the trail.  This would put me about 100 miles in and just a short push up to P-town.  What happens here is that the rail trail ends and you have to get back on the roads to get the final bit up.  This was probably the low point of my ride, if there was a low ride.  I was pretty tired and looking forward to the end.  As I pulled in and met Yvonne she somehow was under the impression that this was were I was going to stop.  She got mad when I told her, no, I'm going up to P-town.  Not a great point in the journey to get in a fight with your crew.  She went off in a huff.  I climbed back on and cranked my tired legs up 6A again towards the end.  You can use back roads to kind-of zigzag around rte. 6A at this point but I was too tired to mess with it and mostly stuck to the big road.  Which sucked.  It was hilly and trafficky with no cover and my legs were trashed.  In this section I was battling a bit. Finally I got onto the access road that runs along the bay up into the town.  This was a pretty, flat section with the ocean on your left.   It's funny how the big miles at the beginning of the ride seem to fly by but those last few seem to take forever.  It was here that I walked a hill.  What happened was, I was coming down a slight hill into an intersection with the intention of using my momentum to get up the other side, but a car cut me off and I had to come to a complete stop.  I couldn't convince my trashed legs to grind up the other side, so I took a break and pushed the bike for a little bit.  Before long I was getting into Provincetown proper.  Now, one thing I had not thought about was how difficult it would be to get through the center of P-Town on a Sunday afternoon.  P-Town in August is a bit like Carnival.  It's a 200 year old fishing village that has thousands of party-ers dumped into it.  Tiny roads filled with stop and go cars, tourists, scooters, it was Bedlam.  And here I am, fairly wobbly on my big mountain bike trying to navigate it all without crashing.  And then I was turning out onto Macmillan Pier.  I rode all the way out to the end and hit stop on the watch at 123.73 miles and 10:15 for an average pace of 12.1 MPH including all the stops.  My wife called me, which was good because I thought she may have abandoned the project and gone home.  In fairness to her it was a pretty big ask, and probably not the best use of her weekend. She wasn't able to get into the downtown and was idling at a parking lot a few blocks away.  I got some bonus miles riding over to her.  We threw the bike in the back and took off back down the Cape to Harwich where our house is.  All-in-all I was pretty pleased with myself and the ride.  In terms of difficulty, it really wasn't that hard, but it was the right adventure for me at this point in my journey.  We stopped at our house just long enough to shower and change and got back on the road.  Yvonne was sick of travel and wanted to get home.  I wouldn't need that 4th buffer day after all. Turns out we got turned around trying to short cut across the suburbs back home, but we got there eventually.  And we slept in our own bed that night. The next day I felt fine.  No hangover at all from the riding.  I could have easily gotten back on the bike for another day.  I did have some saddle burn that took a week or so to heal up.  Overall, I find bike riding to be easy in the endurance sense.  My heart rate stays low, even in these long, hot, back-to-back rides.  It's a good workout, but it's never hard.  I never felt like I was at the edge.  Maybe that's what I need at this point in my life?  Who knows.  So that's it.  Two days, 250 miles.  127.7 in 10:03 on the first day and a slower 124.73 in 10:14 on the second day.  Found some new trails.  Had an adventure. … So what's going with me?  Well, it's taken much longer to get over throwing my back out than I would have liked.  I tried to restart the weightlifting last week but it was too soon, so I'm taking this week off as well. I'm feeling quite sad and broken around this latest setback.  Not being able to do something, anything to stay fit, makes me squirmy.  I suppose it's another good lesson in resilience, but who among us takes their foul-tasting medicine well?  My company shut down travel for the rest of the year which means I've been trapped in my home office looking at the walls far too much.  I feel a bit like a recluse.  Without the daily run or the daily workout it makes the walls close in.  I guess it's time for me to take up some new hobbies, like competitive lawn bowling or pickleball.  It's all very confusing and transitional for me to be sliding into my 60th birthday on this dust ball not knowing what the future holds.  I had my follow up appointment with the knee Dr. and he was not very encouraging.  I've got an MRI tomorrow and then a follow up.  I really miss running on these cool fall days.  Ollie-Wollie the killer collie is doing fine.  We get out for our walk everyday.  He's 3.5 now and getting much less crazy everyday.  I've got no races or projects on the calendar except the Mill Cities Relay in December.  I am planning on restarting the body building campaign as soon as my back lets me.  And, depending on what the MRI reveals maybe I can work some light running in over the winter.  … At this point I guess I have to tell a story.  My company requires us to use two volunteer days a year.  On the surface this is a great thing.  In reality it's hard for me to find and plan something important to volunteer for during the work week.  I have friends that work at homeless shelters or habitat for humanity and all sorts of other charities, but for some reason I find it hard to coordinate with official charities.  Last year I used my two volunteer days doing trail maintenance in the local trails that I run.  Basically I hiked the trails, picked up trash and cut/moved deadfall.  I always discover that I have to use these days about this time of year when time is running out.  This year I decided to take a Friday off and pick up trash on the roads around my house.  I figured I could clean up those roads that I used to run every day.  It always bothers me to see the trash along our beautiful New England roads.  I don't understand why people can't just keep it in their cars until they get where they are going?   So, last Friday I took a volunteer day.  It was a bit harder than it should have been because my back was still really sore and I couldn't bend over or lift very well, but a deals a deal.  I went to a section of road near my house which is part of a 5-mile route I've run 1,000 times.  It's an old road.  In this section I targeted, it runs flat through a swampy area and there are no houses. With the dry weather this summer the water table is low, and thus more of the swampy parts are accessible.  I drove my truck over there and parked about midway in the section.  I took out a couple big black plastic trash-can liner bags and got to work. It felt a bit strange being by myself out walking and picking up trash on a Friday during the day.  I didn't know if maybe someone would report my ‘strange behavior' to the local authorities who would come and chase me off for not having the proper permits or something.  I began filling my bag with cans and bottles and bags and wrappers that I could get to.  It was maybe a ¼ mile stretch.  I stayed off the shoulder as much as I could to stay out of the road and away from cars.  There isn't that much traffic here, but it's an old road with narrow shoulders and I didn't want to cause anyone to swerve.  When I got to the end of the road I crossed over and turned around to walk the other side.  A strange thing happened when I was midway down the other side.  A passing car slowed down and pulled over.  The driver rolled down his passenger window to talk to me.  “Here we go!” I thought to myself.  I've offended someone or something.  The guy leans over from his driver side and shouts out the window at me, very earnestly, “Thank you!  Thank you for what your doing!”  He was incredibly earnest.  Apparently somehow moved by me dragging a trash bag of beer cans down the road. He may have said some other praiseworthy things before driving off.  Frankly I had my (one) headphone in and was listening to a compelling science fiction story.  I really didn't know how to respond.  I guess I probably smiled and nodded my head in acknowledgement.  I finished up that side of the road and completed the circuit back up the other side to my truck.  Collecting two bags of miscellaneous cast-off refuse.  When I sorted it out the next day, I found that the majority was recyclable.  I even got some money for returning the cans and bottles.   The lesson here is that you think that what you are doing is a small and, maybe, even a meaningless act in the grand scheme of things.  I wasn't feeding the hungry or helping the homeless or solving world peace.  But, what I did on that day, that small action, apparently had a large impact on a fellow traveler.  I always use the metaphor of ripples in a pond.  Every act we take, no matter how small, crates ripples that spread out in ways unknown to us.  Make that act an act of kindness and it will spread kindness.  Make that act an act of helpfulness and it will propagate helpfulness.  Even small actions change the world. Thanks for staying with me on this bike narrative thing and I hope you enjoyed the narrative. With any luck I'll see you out there. Chris,    

In this episode of Bourbon With Friends. Team sits down with Sagamore Spirit President, Brian Teacy. Brian makes his second appearance on the show and talks about their Reserve Series Fall release. A 106 Proof Sherry Finish. At Sagamore Spirit, they are driven to craft the world's best rye whiskey, while strengthening their collective communities. This includes building partnerships with the Maryland agricultural community and working with local farmers to grow and harvest grain. These relationships further their goal of using Maryland-grown rye in our products and helps local farmers expand their business. Sagamore Spirit's Rye Whiskies have earned more than 100 awards internationally, including World's Best Rye Whiskey in 2019 at the San Francisco World Spirits Competition. Each one of their products is proofed with pure, limestone-filtered water from a Spring House built in 1909. It's why each bottle bears a special 1909 marker. Their core offerings, Signature Rye Whiskey, Cask Strength Rye Whiskey, and Double Oak Rye Whiskey, are distributed globally. They launched their first Maryland Distilled Bottled in Bond Straight Rye Whiskey in November 2021.Check out our sponsors!Kentucky Eagle INC. - Kentucky Eagle is growing and in need of talented people with a passion for wine and spirits. We are looking for sales positions and operational roles. We are a family owned and operated company that offers above industry average compensation, up to 7.5% 401K match, health-life-dental-vision-life insurance, car allowance, and cell allowance. Positions are available in markets around Kentucky. Please visit kyeagle.netcareers to apply.Check out their website - www.kyeagle.netBlind Barrels - Blind Whiskey Tasting Kit that was born to disrupt the whiskey industry by showcasing American craft whiskey that don't make their way to liquor store shelves due to distribution limitations. Blind tastings are all about discovery, education, and removing brand bias, and Blind Barrels hits home with whiskey communities by supporting the very best in smaller distillers who are making the most amazing, innovative, and delicious products that you can't get at your liquor store.Instagram - blindbarrelswww.blindbarrels.com