Podcasts about Searing

Summary: Justin and Adam explore the art and history of stew, discussing its definition, historical significance, and cultural variations. They compare stews and soups, highlighting the evolution of stew-making and the importance of indigenous recipes. The conversation delves into ingredient choices, cooking techniques, and the role of umami in flavor enhancement. They emphasize the comfort of stew, the significance of selecting the right cuts of meat, and the versatility of wild game. Various cooking methods, including crock-pots, ovens, and open-fire cooking, are discussed, along with practical tips and recipes for creating delicious stews. - Leave a Review of the Podcast - Buy our Wild Fish and Game Spices Recipes: Venison Shank Sagamité African Wild Hog Stew – Potjiekos Venison Heart Stew Rabbit, Deer, Pumpkin Beer Stew Lebanese Goose and Potato Stew Coconut Fish Stew Turkish Venison Meatball Stew Creamy Venison Meatball & Gnocci Stew Jalapeño Whitetail Stew Lobster Mushroom Obe Ata Stew Sudanese Rijla – Purslane, Lamb, and Lentil Stew How to Make Brown Venison Stock Homemade Lobster Stock Basic Dashi Stock Takeaways: Stews have a higher solid to liquid ratio than soups. Cultural variations of stews exist worldwide, including chili and curry. The first recorded recipe for stew dates back 4,000 years. Indigenous peoples have unique methods of making stews. Modern stews evolved from historical recipes in Europe. Stews are popular among hunters for their ability to tenderize tough meats. Irish stew became prominent during the potato famine. Stews can be enjoyed year-round, not just in cold months. Personal preferences for serving stews vary between bowls and plates. Stew sandwiches are a delicious way to repurpose leftovers. Stew is a comfort food that pairs well with buttered bread. Choosing the right cut of meat is crucial for a good stew. Searing meat enhances flavor through the Maillard reaction. Add vegetables at different stages for optimal texture. Homemade stock is preferred for richer flavor. Umami ingredients can elevate the taste of stew. Cooking in the oven provides even heat distribution. Wild game adds unique flavors to stews. Stews improve in flavor when left overnight. Experimenting with ingredients can lead to delicious results. Chapters: 00:00 Introduction to Wild Game Stews 03:03 Understanding Stews vs. Soups 06:04 Cultural Variations of Stews 08:49 Historical Roots of Stews 11:49 Indigenous Stews and Their Significance 14:51 Evolution of Stews Through Time 18:08 Modern Stews and Their Popularity 20:58 Personal Preferences and Cooking Techniques 24:00 The Comfort of Stew and Personal Preferences 27:00 Choosing the Right Ingredients for Stew 29:57 The Importance of Searing and Thickening 33:09 Adding Vegetables and Flavor Enhancers 35:58 The Role of Liquids and Stocks in Stew 39:05 Umami and Flavor Complexity in Stews 41:47 Cooking Techniques: Oven vs. Crock-Pot vs. Fire 44:59 Wild Game and Unique Ingredients for Stew 48:03 Final Thoughts and Recipes for Delicious Stews Keywords: Wild game, stews, soups, cooking techniques, cultural history, indigenous recipes, food history, culinary traditions, stew recipes, hunting Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Years ago, Case wrote a radio script that crossed over Superman with The Shadow. Now, he's gathered a host of actors to read it with full orchestration and foley!    Overview   In the Creative Collaboration and Script Reading meeting titled "The Shadow Meets Superman in The Searing Silhouette," hosted by Case Aiken and Jmike Folson, participants including Rachel Quirky Schenk, Geoff Moonen, Olivia Gilliatt, Ben Goldsmith, Peter Coleman, and Sarah Moonen engaged in a collaborative reading of the script. The meeting began with introductions and role assignments, followed by a two-part reading that introduced the characters of The Shadow and Superman, set against the backdrop of a major metropolitan law firm and a kidnapping plot. The discussion segment allowed participants to share feedback on the script, explore its historical context, and draw comparisons with other media crossovers. Additionally, tangential discussions covered related topics, such as pinball machines and potential sequels. The meeting concluded with a wrap-up where participants exchanged final thoughts and social media information, and Case Aiken outlined the action items, including editing the script for sound effects and encouraging ongoing conversations in a dedicated Discord server.   Notes Introduction and Script Reading (00:00 - 09:24) Case Aiken introduces the Men of Steel podcast Participants introduced: Rachel Quirky Schenk, Geoff Moonen, Olivia Gilliatt, Ben Goldsmith, Peter Coleman, Sarah Moonen Jmike Folson as co-host Script Reading Part 1 (09:24 - 18:08) Reading of 'The Shadow meets Superman in the searing silhouette' script begins Introduction of characters: Lamont Cranston (The Shadow), Margo Lane Setting established: Major metropolitan law firm Kidnapping plot introduced Script Reading Part 2 (18:08 - 28:35) Superman's introduction in the script Crossover between The Shadow and Superman storylines Investigation of the kidnapping case Interaction between Clark Kent and Margo Lane ️ Discussion and Feedback (28:35 - 40:33) Participants share thoughts on the script reading Case Aiken explains script background and influences Discussion of radio show era and character portrayals Comparison to other media crossovers Tangential Discussions (40:33 - 49:08) Conversation about pinball machines related to The Shadow Discussion about potential sequels or extensions of the script Participants share personal experiences and connections to the material Wrap-up and Social Media (49:08 - 58:48) Final thoughts from participants Sharing of social media handles and upcoming projects Case Aiken provides contact information and podcast details Discussion of Discord server for further conversations  

An audit released today finds L.A. city officials failed to properly track billions in homelessness spending. The number of unhoused people who died grew by one percent in 2023, according to L.A. County. This morning their third egg started to pip, which is the first sign of hatching. Plus, more.Support The L.A. Report by donating at LAist.com/join and by visiting https://laist.comSupport the show: https://laist.com

TIME STAMPS:02:25 Weight loss & health journey summary of Chris Vilela ( @ CHRISVIONE ) from going keto in 2021 to full carnivore today.13:31 The difference between the KETOGENIC DIET and the CARNIVORE DIET.18:45 A discussion around abstaining from SUGAR and ARTIFICIAL SWEETENERS.20:20 What we noticed when we eat RAW MEAT instead of cooked meat.23:02 Tips on SOURCING your meat to make sure you're getting quality beef and keeping your health journey affordable! ( see our workout podcast E319 for more on this if you're in US & Canada looking to purchase whole or partial cows! )27:11 Chris's TROUT and SOCKEYE recipes!31:00 BAD COACH CALLOUT, LISTENER INSPIRING SUCCESS STORY (L.I.S.S.) & Podcast Reviews - thanks and shout out to Aly ( IG @ faithmeatsnutrution ) 38:02 Various methods of cooking BONE BROTH at home.42:51 NON EXERCISE ACTIVITY THERMOGENESIS (N.E.A.T.) - walking desk & weighted vest. Brilliant.45:04 How to write & track your workouts in your BODYBUILDING LOGBOOK

The podcast principal feels better, so we welcome Kenya and the great Tsavo West National Park. I vacillate between the desire to see the beautiful Savanas of Kenya and my dotage fearing the abundant wildlife! Welcome, brothers and sisters in Christ, Kenya, and even the world wild. Thank you for listening. Today, we see the holiness of God through the prism of His mercy. Isaiah stood there. In his humiliation, that beautiful, that beautiful humiliation. And let the angel touch his lips with that searing coal. And the prism we are looking through is God's mercies. And we see The holy God of the universe touching us and cleansing us, in our case, by the blood of Jesus. Isaiah's cases illustrated: "behold, this has touched your lips. And your iniquity is taken away, and your sin is forgiven." He knew then the dirtiness of his sin and the glory of forgiveness, and that's why his humiliation was a beautiful humiliation. At this moment, Isaiah learned the meaning of Jesus' words: "Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that your spirits are, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are recorded in heaven." Luke 10. 20. And there's nothing like that. So that beautiful humiliation leads to God's beautiful mercies and our beautiful salvation. So What? Nothing else matters, except our names are recorded in heaven. And every single martyr who died at the stake, or in the Colosseum, or who died being burnt, or drowned, in that moment, they have all they will ever need. Even martyrdom is a means of great gain. Brethren, let's pray for one another. "What a man is on his knees before God, that he is and nothing more"" Robert MurrayM'Cheynee Donation link: https://www.paypal.com/donate/?hosted_button_id=G9JGGR5W97D64 Or go to www.freerangepreacheronprayer.com and use the Donations tab. Assistant Editor: Seven Jefferson Gossard. www.freerangepreacheronprayer.com freerangeprayer@gmail.com Facebook - Free Range Preacher Ministries Instagram: freerangeministries All our Scripture quotes are drawn from the NASB 1977 edition. For access to the Voice Over services of Richard Durrington, please visit RichardDurrington.com or email him at Durringtonr@gmail.com Our podcast art was designed by @sammmmmmmmm23 Instagram Season 007 Episode 006

Danzy Senna's 'Colored Television' is a dark comedy that explores issues of parenting, art, Hollywood, real estate and the racial-identity industrial complex. There's really not a single aspect of modern life that escapes the author's critical eye or searing wit.

It's a Christmas show for all this Friday night at the Tibbits Opera House.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Crashing Lightening and Rolling Thunder. In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand. Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected.. “You will never appreciate having to follow a difficult order until you have to give one.” (Late, late Saturday Night) Had I been alone? There are few perks to a solitary lifestyle. One of the few is the freedom from others; and by that I mean you don't have to decide if you care about people you don't know. You are free. Your emotions are free, your decisions are free and your time is your own. Selfish in the best way. Libra took my keys after we arrived at my apartment building and raced ahead to make sure that Timothy and Odette, if either was awake, would be forewarned. Casper clung to me as she always did. Estere took the lead since I also had to do pack mule duty. Brooke carried the few things that were beyond me. The rain was turning from a drizzle to a downpour. Odette had a friend over; a female acquaintance. Timothy; Timothy was in the middle of a very successful date night. Now I had the joy of being an auditory spectator in my domicile's sexcapades. "Shouldn't she be taken to a clinic, or something?" the friend blurted out. I didn't know her enough to decide if she was nervous, flippant, or secretly cruel. Casper dug in tighter. I had to dump the luggage to deal with her heightened anxiety. Libra, Brooke and Odette picked up the slack while Estere soaked in the ambiance of my dwelling. The look she gave me was one of amusement and intrigue. This was hardly the lair of the one and only Amazon Prince. It was sublime and comfortable. It had a nomadic quality she found familiar. Being in a fortress has its comforts. Being in someone else's fortress is far less comfortable. Estere was quietly accounting for every knife, mallet, or other potentially fatal piece of housewares. Brooke, Libra and Odette were already ordering and organizing my life ;  what did they need to get and how would they get it? "So; you are Odette's; friend," the unknown woman stated. Snapping at her was unduly unfair to Odette, who put up with mountains of my insane lifestyle. "Yeah, that's me. Cáel Nyilas; self-made troublemaker," I confessed. "You?" "Delilah," she answered. "What happened to her?" Casper flinched. "Nothing that being reminded about what a wonderful friend she is won't help heal," I cautiously responded. "She is hanging out with me and some friends for the weekend." "Cut it out, Delilah," Odette sighed. "Who are you really, anyway?" Delilah was smooth, I had to give her that. "Odette, what do you mean?" Delilah stood up. "Delilah, or whoever you are, I'm not such a wonderful person that people I've known two days come home with me," Odette lectured. "Now, I kept you here until you could meet Cáel, so why don't you return my courtesy and tell us what's going on?" Odette was keeping Libra and Brooke in my room thus out of play. Timothy climaxed. Good for him. Out in the living room, Delilah made a stutter step. She was frozen by Estere's silenced weapon pointed at her. "You were spotted by a rank amateur," the Hashashin noted. "Who are you with?" "You people are nuts," Delilah flushed with panic. Nice touch, but that panic didn't reach her cold, calculating eyes. "Damn Delilah," Odette shook her head. "You need to watch more television. BBC America has this nice drama called Orphan Black where the exact same thing happened. I knew you were lying to me in twenty minutes. I was nice enough to not bring the Death Squad across the street over to deal with you. They wouldn't have cared whether I was being paranoid or whatever. They would have dragged you out and killed you on general principle. You owe me." "I don't know what's wrong;” Delilah got out. There was a rapid knocking at the door. Shielding Casper behind me, I backed up in that direction. "Last chance," Odette looked at Delilah sternly. "That's the Death Squad." Sure enough, I checked and it was two Amazons in full gear. I opened up and the two edged in around me. "Ishara; status please," the leader asked. "Estere Abed is a diplomat for her Protocol faction, there should be records of Brooke and Libra on file and Odette belongs here. Casper is behind me; special case. That woman," I motioned to Delilah, "is of unknown origin." "Miss, lay down on the floor, on your stomach; arms out to your sides," the leader brought her UP-40 up, aimed at Delilah. "This is insane," Delilah sounded really frantic. Not in the eyes though. "Lie down, or three rounds in the chest," the Amazon team leader related calmly. "Last chance." Delilah decided that she wasn't cut from a fanatic's cloth. She went down like a pro. The two Amazons closed in. I spotted the third of the four woman team at my door, keeping watch. The two inside efficiently bound her hands behind her back and patted her down for weapons; none. "She is in violation of the truce," the leader pointed out. "Should I dispatch her now?" "Wait!" Delilah squawked. "I'm supposed to keep an eye on him and protect him, not hurt him. Fuck, don't kill me for this." "Who are you working for?" Estere came closer. Delilah hesitated so both Estere and the number two Amazon drew their knives. "Fine! Fine. All I have is a name and I'm only supposed to tell him," she pleaded. There was a moment of uncertainty. "She'll tell us," Estere knelt beside Delilah. Now Delilah's panic was real. "Wait," I stated. I motioned Brooke and Libra to move around the crowded room and comfort Casper. "Well," I sighed as I went on my hands and knees beside Delilah's head. The Amazon leader had her hand on the woman's head, pressed tightly to the ground. "Sibeal," Delilah whispered. Mom. "Do you have any way of contacting this person?" I asked. "No. It is not how I work," she said and finally I caught it. The accent. I looked to the leader. "Look at her hands and tell me what you see," I asked the Amazon. I went back to resting on my knees. "Hard; callused from repetitive weapons practice. Short nails. She's very fit," the Team Lead kept up the examination. "I apologize Ishara. She's a soldier." "Let her go," I commanded. The Amazon only paused for a moment before cutting her bonds. Delilah moved cautiously as she moved to a cross-legged position. "You don't have to answer me, but I'd appreciate some honesty. You're English. Would that make you MI-5, or MI-6?" It wasn't as huge a leap as it looked. Who could Mom trust? In this case, a government operative would actually be safer for her and she had to have decades of Illuminati information inside her head. Delilah had one reason to be honest; her mission. "MI-5 is counter-intelligence," Delilah grinned as her British accent came out to play. "M I 6. S I S is foreign intelligence. I'll let you figure it out." "Good enough," I stood then helped her stand as well. "You can stay; starting Monday. I need a break, okay?" Delilah nodded. "Deal. Now do me the courtesy of telling me why I'm here?" she asked. "Love. Deep, abiding love," I looked right into her soul. Crisis averted. Delilah 'agreed' to go with my guardians to 'work things out'. Delilah was curious as to why they called Cáel Nyilas; Ishara. She also congratulated Odette on figuring something was up. Odette told her not to feel bad about it; reference all the psycho bitches that showed up in my life. Brooke headed out to gather some more belongings for herself and Libra because; my vote not even elicited; they were going to hang close to Casper and I for a few more days. Libra and Estere headed out to that authentic Italian pizza joint I'd taken Libra to earlier since my food stockpile was abysmal and the neighborhood was far from safe this late at night. Odette took Casper to my bedroom so that Casper could talk with her parents in Delaware. Timothy and his date emerged from his room. It was Sovann Mean, who I had met before and gotten along with. It took me all of two seconds to figure out what had happened. Sovann had asked Timothy out because Timothy never thought Sovann was interested in him. Sovann was a second generation Cambodian-American and had this stoic demeanor he raised up whenever he was nervous, ensuring Timothy's confusion. "Hey Cáel," Sovann smiled at me. "Still being good?" That was code for me being 'straight'. It still weirded me out a bit; Sovann was a serious weightlifter, like Timothy and I, but a head shorter, so he looked stockier than he really was. When he smiled, his whole face lit up too. It was the Khmer 'twang' that always sounded out of place to me. "We will not discuss the number of women who were here mere moments ago," I joked wearily. "Timothy, I apologize for coming back early; shithead-intervention shut things down in the Hamptons." "No problem, Bro," Timothy came and gave me a man-hug. "With your newfound wealth, we may need to convert the sofa to a sleeper-sofa," Timothy semi-joked. "Oh yeah, and that girl down the hall; when I told her your father died, she baked you some cookies. They're in a tin by the toaster. They really are pretty good, too; walnut and caramel chip." That sounded tasty. I guessed that meant I finally had to meet the women. Sovann came up and fist-bumped me as Timothy went for the refrigerator. The doorbell rang. I wondered who had forgotten what as I swung the door open. Lighting exploded outdoors, our lights flickered and thunder shook the apartment. It was Uncle Carrig. As the old song said 'he looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone'. His eyes wore a harried, feral look. His bellow, as he charged, rolled over me like the amplified heartbeat of a hellish primate. I had no time before he was on me. Down we went. I tried to push him off of me. His suit was soaked with rain and blood, some of it had to be his own. In his right hand he held a dull aluminum cylinder with a metallic suction cup on the bottom. Sovann kicked Uncle Lumpy in the side of the head. Inflicted on a normal man, that would have driven him off me. Lumpy released his hold on my shoulder and backhanded Sovann. The Cambodian went flying in the direction of the sofa despite getting a leg block up. I had a flash of Timothy going for his home deterrent system, aka the crowbar. Odette began yelling. The cylinder was coming down. Carrig's left grabbed my chin, fixing my head in place. I opted to use both my arms to stop his right, and the device, from coming down. I bought a little time. Timothy's blow came down on Lumpy's left shoulder, weakening the hold, but not enough. The device slammed into my forehead. I felt a burning pain as a portion of the flesh beneath the cup was flash-fried away. More pain, then a little pressure and finally nothing. In those seconds before my mind spun out of control, I had the oddest sensation there was something inside my brain. Searing agony; existence lost all meaning and I was gone. (One week later) They say pain in the brain is illusionary. Of all your nerve cells, only a tiny fraction are devoted to pain. The rest do the important work of keeping your body functioning. The brain is on top of it all and it has better things to do that register pain; or so I was told. To be somewhat fair, what I felt wasn't exactly pain. It was the sensation that something was crawling around inside my psyche, doing something. Sharp, tingling jolts shocked my body parts at regular intervals. Painful in their own way, yet not so much I couldn't concentrate. I opened my eyes. The lights in my room had been dimmed, but not enough that I couldn't see the six ladies standing about; doing nothing. I recognized my present lodgings as Havenstone Post-classical Modernism (total lie; I'm not an interior designer). The six ladies turned, looked at me, then closed in slowly. A staring contest was in the offing when two people entered the room from the door at the foot of the bed. It then occurred to me that little sonic indicators on the machinery surrounding me were chirping loudly. One woman was a physician's assistant I knew from an earlier bout at Havenstone Medical. She had performed CPR on me. The other woman; she was the senior-most recruit from my father's graveside service. She looked positively grim. My dry throat requested some water then I attempted to rise. A problem instantly revealed itself. I was strapped down on my bed. The ankles, wrists and a neck/head brace kept my movements to a minimum. There was a side benefit to this imprisonment. That body-wide jolts? My body was wired up to a system that had needles piercing my muscle clusters. Amazons prided themselves on being physically fit and their tolerance for pain. My muscles hadn't atrophied during my; coma and the price was this constant, low-level pain. I still wasn't sure that was the reason I was bound. The PA maneuvered a plastic bottle with a spout to my lips and gave me a brief squirt. A few seconds later I got another and then a third. "Okay," I rasped. "What's going on?" "You have been in an unresponsive state for 7 days, Ishara," the 'senior' told me. "Why are you here?" I coughed. "I mean, why aren't you on the job?" She blinked. "Your life was imperiled so we decided that five of us would be around to monitor you and keep you safe," she answered. "What's with everyone else?" I huffed. The two looked at me. The quiet six were of no help. "Fine, what are you ladies doing here?" I asked the women originally in the room. No answer. "Ishara?" the PA worried. That was when it dawned on me that the two and the six weren't interacting on any level. "How many people are in the room?" I asked my housemate. She paused. "There are three of us, Ishara. You, me and the attendant," she answered. "How many people do you see?" "Well shit," I muttered. Then the first of the six spoke to me. Actually, she mouthed to me. It took me a moment to realize she was giving me her name. The next one started. "Device," I snapped to the 'senior'. As she hesitantly reached for hers, I began rattling off the names. When the sixth one gave me her name, the group dissipated into the ether. "Who are these women?" 'senior' requested. "Find out," I sighed then, "It is important." She nodded. Now that the specters were gone, the mortals began to come in. Right off the bat, I was confirmed in my status as "prisoner". They wouldn't free me when I requested it and they made no attempt to conceal their hostility to my fellow Isharan. The agenda was decided without me; they were going to check me out mentally, then I was off to see Hayden. Why was I imprisoned? My brain was a maelstrom of activity across a broad spectrum of regions and lobes. What had happened? They didn't know. The suction cup had stabilized the tube which was really a firing mechanism. When the device was able to detect and aim for a specific part of my brain, the longitudinal fissure, it shot a rod three-quarters into my cranium. A laser had burned through the skin and skull with surgeon-like precision so a barb of unknown construction could go deep into my brain. Then it 'detonated'. That was one of the problems the medicos of Havenstone were facing. The device had been so badly damaged when it unleashed its energy that they could no longer divine its function. What they did understand was that while my neural network was going super-nova, it wasn't killing me. They leapt on the idea of mind control. That theory sounded pretty lame to me, but I was the one tied down, with one ally in a room full of people bred to mistrust all males. The next approach; was I sane? The PA offered that I was seeing phantasms. 'Wait'. "Go," I directed the senior. "Take care of the business I have given you then tell Buffy and Helena what you've found out. You are wasting your time staying here." She nodded and left. It was more "common sense" rather than any sense of my leadership that made her leave. But that done; I concentrated on the entirety of the message so that it settled upon my soul. I relaxed, shut my eyes and let the world float by. It took them a minute to notice my noncompliance; any positive contribution on my part had slipped so far down in their expectations. "Ishara?" one of the SD chicks inquired. I opened one eye, then shut it. There was nothing to be done. "What is he doing?" that Amazon asked a physician. She, in turn asked me. I took a deep, cleansing breath and continued to ignore them. "There is nothing wrong with him," the physician noted. "He is being childish." That went beyond disrespectful. As a quirk of Amazon society, they had left me my knife strapped to my arm. To take it would have been an insult my tiny house could not have borne; essentially declaring me incompetent. I was heading that way, but not yet. That didn't stop them from deriding me until a lull finally developed. For a moment, I thought I was alone. I was intrigued by the words suddenly aimed my way. "Mr. Nyilas?" an unknown female inquired. I opened an eye. Woman; bad suit; and a badge. What the fuck? I was in Havenstone. "Special Agent Virginia Maddox with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'd like to ask you a few questions," she began. "Okay," I cleared my throat, "as long as we are clear I am one misstep away from invoking my Miranda Rights." She worked that one over for a second. "Do you know why your uncle attacked you?" "Honestly, I'm curious as to why I'm still alive," I tried to shrug. "Carrig and I never got along, if you consider when I first met him we fought and the second time he stabbed me in the forehead," I explained. "How long did you and your uncle fight; the second time?" she asked. "Um; six second," I guessed. "How is Lumpy doing, anyway?" "Lumpy?" "Uncle Carrig." "He's dead." "Seriously; fuck. What killed him?" "We are working that out. He was beaten, stabbed; by three different blades, shot 67 times by five different firearms, only two which we have recovered," Virginia stated. "We also think he was hit by two cars, one dump truck and a subway." "Well; yeah; Uncle Carrig was looking a bit rough when I answered the door," I confessed. Lumpy had to have been on a freaking quest to go through all that to get to me. Subway? He was hit by a subway and walked away. Most people barely leave a recognizable corpse. "How are Odette, Timothy, Casper and Sovann?" I recalled. She looked at her phone. "They are mostly fine. Casper Winslow was taken to the hospital in shock and was released to her parents," she said. "The other three were taken to the Emergency Room, treated for minor injuries and released," Virginia informed me. "The other four women were a more delicate manner." "Four women? Could you be more specific?" "Your bodyguards." "Could you be more specific?" "For a person with supposedly limited financial means, a lower income lifestyle and a humble background, you appear to have a small army hovering around you, high society friends, and lawyers who are on a first name basis with Supreme Court Justices," Virginia noted. "Lady, half-way through Day Two on this job, I almost gave it all up and biked my ass down to Terra del Fuego to live the sane life of a paranoid recluse," I sighed. "Why didn't you?" "Cause I'm an idiot. I was hoping a crackerjack investigator like you would have figured this out by now," I grinned. "How do you know I'm any good at my job?" she sent a sultry lip twist my way. Yes; pinned to a bed I could still attract the ladies. Having hundreds of little needles in me made the prospects for a quick sexual romp unlikely. "Javiera chose you for this assignment," I told her. "You have to be a woman because this is Havenstone and you have to be clever because this is a lunatic asylum." "Touché," she acknowledged my above average mental status. Next came a list of names. It took me a few seconds to focus on them. "Oh, what happened to them?" I inquired. "What makes you think anything happened to these people?" she parried. "Oh, I'm betting Javiera gave you a list of names and there is only person left alive out of that group," I felt introspective. "I wonder where Anima is hiding." "What happened to those people?" she persisted. "I don't know. I've been napping for the past week, but I'm betting they all met nasty ends," I told her. "Why were these people murdered?" "Were they murdered, or are they merely deceased? See, if I give you my opinion, you will have to pursue that line of inquiry which will only hurt one person who has already been hurt enough and save somebody who shouldn't be saved," I explained. "Why do you get to determine who gets saved?" Virginia pressed. "As opposed to who? You and Javiera? That's laughable. Why don't you go down the net worth of the families of those unfortunate corpses, then tell me how balanced your justice system would be? Please understand, I don't hold you and your profession in contempt," I met her hardening gaze. "To prove to me that I'm wrong, all you have to do is honestly tell me that high-priced lawyers, legions of specialists that confuse juries and enormous bank accounts to keep the appeals going indefinitely while the guilty roam about on bail equates to the legal process working fairly and impartially," I reposted. "That's not the same thing as;” she got out before the door opened and several people traipsed in, including three SD personnel. Last came Troika and she was coldly furious. "I was promised more time with Mr. Nyilas," Virginia protested. She was ignored. "Ishara, you are coming with us," Troika snapped. To be fair, the medical attendant wasn't overly torturous as she pulled out the muscle stimulatory aids and applied the bandages. It still sucked. That was ameliorated somewhat by the read I was getting of Troika. I waited for the last restraint to be removed before speaking. "I refuse to go with you," I stated firmly even as I sat up. See, I needed something to happen that was beyond my ability to obtain. "Take him," Troika directed two of the SD babes. My captors had gone out of their way to make sure these Amazons weren't ladies I knew. "Stop," I declared with authorities. "You cannot touch me against my will as that violates Hayden's ban on me entering blood feuds and wrangling me anywhere against my will constitutes a blood feud in Ishara's eyes." "It is Hayden's order," Troika snapped. "Has she lifted the ban? If not, these ladies will be breaking Hayden's decree." Troika harrumphed then gave Hayden a call. For the purpose of this meeting, the ban was lifted. That was what I needed so off I went. I waited until we got in the elevator and were heading up before launching my strike. Pamela would have been so proud. If Troika had given me an ounce of dignity, I couldn't have pulled it off. As it was, the first stab took her just under the left eye, the second punched through her cheek and spitted her tongue. The third nearly severed her upper lip and then the SD were on me. "Blood Feud!" I screamed. "You stole from me!" Troika was about to come back at me, knife in hand. One of the SD got in the way. What I had done was illegal; blood feuds needed to be approved; except for one tidbit of law Pamela taught me and it was about to come into play. "You cannot wound him while he is in our custody, Troika of Šauška," the Amazon protested. Troika gargled something through the ruin of the left side of her face. "I will peel off a meter of your flesh for this insult," she managed to oozingly communicate before we reached the top floor. For my part; "Unhand me." They didn't. "Unhand me, or am I no longer Head of House Ishara." "Do not attack her," the SD leader stated. "Would you care to explain to me why you are giving me that order?" I mused. "Please, Ishara," the woman ground out. "Do not attack Troika of House Šauška." "Very well. I pledge that from this point until the end of this meeting, I will only act against Troika in my own defense," I promised. "Now give me your sidearm." "You may not bear a weapon in Hayden's presence," the SD leader reminded me. "I asked for your weapon, not your legal advice," I insisted. Another shot of bigotry. "I will not. You are not acting rationally," she stated. Troika snorted. That was okay, because I saw an excellent substitute close by. My deviation from the group was so casual, they barely noticed. I wasn't making a fast break to nowhere. I walked up to the wall and, Vranus be praised, yanked one of a pair of matching battle axes off the wall. Support studs went flying. Like all weapons in Havenstone, this one was real. The SD closed ranks, boxing me in. "You may not bear a weapon in Hayden's presence," the SD leader was at the end of her patience with me. "You are incorrect," I glowered. "There are two occasions I may bear a weapon in proximity to the High Priestess. One is in defense of her person. I am not here to defend her." Harder than any kick to the head; they paled then the anger set in. "How dare you?" the SD leader seethed. "The proof of the necessity of my action stands before me right now; an Amazon defying a House, a First Ancestor and a Goddess on her own initiative and in defiance of everything her ancestors fought, bled and died for," I glared. "Give me the axe," the leader insisted. "No. You will have to fight me for it," I made my stand. She was about to do just that when one of the others spoke. Tears were slowly eking a way down that one's cheeks. "Step away from Ishara, or I will kill you," she told her leader. "You are wrong and Ishara is right though it sickens me to admit it." To add to the macabre, one SD trooper aimed at my 'savior' and the fourth aimed at the third. Civil war. "You know what he plans to do," the leader stated. "It is not our place," the second Amazon insisted. "I cannot face my ancestors letting this abomination pass." "He is the abomination," the leader persisted. "No. The abomination is any full-blooded not of the Council deciding what the Council will and will not do. We now know there were once male Amazons. By the will of our ancestors it was so. Never before have we, the elite of the Host, acted as if we knew better than they," the second Amazon said with righteous conviction. "Go," the leader mumbled softly. The woman on the verge of killing her was most likely a close and trusted friend. Grappling with that sudden rift between sisters was occupying her mind at that moment, not my escape. I moved around her, keeping out of the line of fire as best I could and went with Troika to Hayden's portal. I didn't thank the woman. That would have been insulting because what she did, she did for her people and the hundred thousand that had come before her. Finally we rolled out the Old Kingdom Hittite/Amazon. "See what you have done," Troika hissed. I didn't bother to reply. I was sure, dressed in light green scrubs, I cut a valiant and imposing figure. "Cáel Ishara, what took you so;” and then Hayden saw it. For a second, Saint Marie almost cut me off. Katrina stood up. She wanted to stop me. In her mind, Hayden was one of our allies, but, as I had told her, she (Katrina) didn't get it either. Madi, Beyoncé, Fatima and Krasimira were also present and now highly disturbed. "Take yourself to the cliffs," I announced clearly as I dropped the axe on Hayden's desk. She had stood at my final approach and bore hate my way. "The Goddess Ishara rejects you and has taken herself from the Temple. House Ishara has lost faith in you. Your insults are lengthy and I do not feel like wasting any more time with you." "How dare you?" Hayden spat. "All the times I have shielded you and this is how you repay me? You were a mistake from the beginning." "A mistake we can rectify right now," Fatima snarled. She rose up and drew her knife. "Excuse me, but didn't we gather here for a different purpose?" Krasimira mused softly. "Kill him and end the curse," Madi growled. "Oh; in that case can you kill me first?" Krasimira sighed. "I see no need to postpone the continuation of my chat with my mother." At Krasimira's age, her mother was most likely dead. "Krasimira, you cannot defend him!" Fatima wailed. "Defend him? I am not standing in your way, Fatima. I do know that the statue of Ishara fractured and fell into two pieces in the Temple," she related; certainly retelling information they already had. "House by house, we see nothing but the back of those who fought before us. Five of my augurs had shorn their hair and thrown themselves into the fire. I can do nothing except report what I have witnessed. I cannot appeal to Ishara to lift her curse. I hope one of you can because if you can't and you kill her CLEARLY designated heir we shall all go down to ignoble ends," the Keeper of Records remained serenely poised as she delivered her doom-laden news. "By the way, Troika, what happened to your face?" "He stabbed me," Troika burbled. "Let me kill the bastard." I half-turned. Saint Marie interposed herself between the two of us. "Cáel, lift the curse," Saint Marie demanded. "Lift your damn curse," Fatima and Madi chimed in. "Cáel, lift the curse and then we can discuss things," Hayden tried and failed to sound humble. "If every woman in this rooms fatally slits their own throats in the next fifteen seconds, I'll plead to Ishara to lift the curse," I said. There wasn't a headlong rush to commit suicide. The only one so inclined was Krasimira. I motioned her to stop. "Well, I think we are done here. I have to go and try and cobble my life back together. You ladies have fun pulling off your 'Thelma and Louise' final act while I figure out some way for House Ishara to survive the upcoming war," I shrugged. Of course they didn't let me leave. Fatima on one side, the Golden Mare in the middle and Troika on the other. She had to be in a shitload of pain. "Lift the curse. If we are going to war, we need to be whole," Saint Marie urged me. "No." "Why should I stop these two from killing you right now?" she glared. "Because he is an Amazon," Krasimira muttered. "You should need no better reason. Ah; this is why we must die; thank you Cáel Ishara," she concluded. "A terrible sadness has gripped our people for as long as I have been Keeper. I found it lurking in the shadowy corners of my office when I was elevated. I now imagine it haunted my predecessors for some time as well. At least I will pass on knowing the name of our assassin." "The assassin is right here," Fatima spewed her hate at me. "You are correct," Krasimira chuckled. "The assassin is indeed in this room. Its name is Amazon. I need a moment, please." She stood and walked to the doors. What she wanted didn't take long at all. "Gun," we heard her request. The magazine fell to the ground. The sole bullet did not follow. Krasimira walked tenderly into the office as if every step tore like fishhooks at her flesh. "Take yourself to the cliffs, Hayden," Krasimira intoned as the one-shot pistol fell on Hayden's desk. "I no longer know you." Krasimira took in the whole room. "We show anger when we should show humility. We are proud of our shame. We are arrogant of our weaknesses. We have heaped insult upon insult on our ancestors yet are now aghast that they turn away from us," she shook her head. Her gaze settled on Saint Marie. "I am not one warrior alone, but one of a thousand warriors who have fought before me'; isn't that part of the oath of every member of the Security Detail swears?" Katrina fell to her knees. "Please Cáel. Please save us," she begged me. Something was very wrong with that. "How dare you?" Fatima howled at Katrina. Instead of being ashamed, Katrina's supplicant's face turned first into a grim grin, then one of gallows laughter. "And that is why we are all going to die," Katrina declared as she stood once more. "We are too proud to ask a man for help. We know what Ishara's curse is doing to us. You clearly don't care. You would rather die than admit that our damn ANCESTORS have placed a male here and now. Open your eyes!" she nearly screamed. "They sent a MAN for a reason; to open our eyes before we kill ourselves." You scream 'what gives him the right?' Ishara gives him the right. Nothing else matters. What I am asking you is 'what gives you the right to reject Ishara?' because that is what we have done. How could she make her will any more plainly obvious to us? Cáel has never stopped trying to save us and you two want to gut him like a lamb, or (to Saint Marie) break his body. Hayden, I will not place my rejection upon your desk. You have been as much a mother to me as my actual birth-mother. I love you. Since we first met, I have only wanted to make you proud of me and serve your will. What has gone wrong? How have we come to this? You were the one who told me we had to find a way to save our race; and now, when it stares us in the face; Why can't we accept it? How have I failed you, Hayden? What did I do wrong to not prepare you for this moment? It was my duty to keep you informed in all things and I can find nothing to excuse my failure," Katrina had gone from disappointed to heart-broken. Katrina prized herself on being able to stay ahead of any crisis. Here, at her greatest challenge, she hadn't been able to help her friend and mentor survive this calamity. I imagine that was the final blow for Hayden. Katrina had risen up through the Havenstone system as Hayden's protégé and had given Hayden her all. "Until this moment, I have never considered myself a coward," Hayden murmured. "You are blameless Katrina. In the final analysis, I sacrificed my courage for my life. And now I have neither. I can regain my courage here at the end and be true to the duties I was given," Hayden's resolve strengthened with each word. She took out a piece of paper and created a list. "Saint Marie, on this list are traitors to the Host. Gather these Amazons and prepare them to challenge my accusation." Saint Marie stepped forward, took the paper and quickly read it. "Hayden, this includes a third of the Council!" she gasped. "I am well aware of who I have accused. Please see to my final command, old friend," Hayden sighed. I could see a terrible weight lifted from her; the cliffs. "Final;” Saint Marie and Katrina groaned. "Yes. I will dine tonight with my family, then take myself to the cliffs with the dawn. I feel that will be a good end for me," Hayden mused. "Will Ishara forgive me, Cáel?" "No Hayden. It is not her way, but I will. There will be a place in Ishara's halls for you. I pledge you that," I suddenly felt a sorrowful pit in my stomach. Into that romantically tragic scene, Krasimira snorted with amusement. Eyes turned to her. Hayden shook her head, held up a hand to forestall the Keeper until she rounded the desk and left her office for the last time. "Who is on the list?" Fatima stormed up to the Golden Mare and looked over the list. "I am on this. So are you Troika," Fatima growled. "This is insane. We'll destroy Hayden over this; this; piece of filth." "I don't care if I'm on it, or not," Madi seethed. "I'm with you." "There is a small manner of little known law you may wish to be aware of," Krasimira chuckled. "The ruling of an honorably deceased High Priestess may not be challenged." "You two are under arrest," Saint Marie whipped out her pistol. Being with the SD, she was allowed to be fully armed in the High Priestess's presence. "What do you mean?" Fatima looked to Krasimira. "Cáel has killed you all and he didn't even mean to," Krasimira gave a dry chuckle. "By his act of kindness to Hayden, which I now think Hayden was counting on, our former High Priestess goes to an honorable death; taken into the Halls of Ishara in death. Unable to challenge Hayden's decree, you are all going to be executed and your names stricken from the rolls. You will wander aimlessly for all eternity while Hayden will live in the company of her sisters thanks to a man and his love for someone who was clearly his enemy," Krasimira kept snorting at the dark comedy. "Your sole avenue of spiritual survival lies with a man you tried to kill mere moments ago." "This is insane," Troika shouted and came at me. The room exploded with the sonic resonance of a pistol firing. I may have imagined it, but it appeared the bullet took Troika at the juncture of the right eyebrow, nose ridge and right eye. Whatever the entry point, the 45 ACP slug painted the wall behind her with her grey matter. Saint Marie turned quickly on Fatima. "Troika wasn't on the Council, so I could kill her for attempting to murder someone who was. I can't kill you immediately, but please believe I will put a bullet where it hurts if you don't do exactly what I say," the Golden Mare menaced. The debate was truncated by the four Security Detail ladies storming the room. Orders were dispensed and the wheels of Amazon society burst into motion. A side effect of my stunt was I had put Saint Marie in charge until the full Council could meet to create some sort of Regency Council to pilot the ship. There was zip gratitude aimed my way on her part and I didn't blame her one bit. I was headed out before things got too organized. I wanted some 'me' time. "Cáel Ishara, we have not resolved the matter that brought us to this disaster," Saint Marie growled. I was at the door. I looked over my shoulder at the Golden Mare, turned back toward freedom and saw Pamela. "Shoot me," I told Pamela. I was grappling with the horror of what I had just said when I returned to the darkness. MOTHER-FUCKER! I hate women! (Mutter; mutter; mutter) I became aware of my hazy, fugue-like dream state. Sadly, it was familiar and undoubtedly going to become even more familiar while I lived. "Upset with me, Cáel?" she asked. "You had me tell my friend to shoot me; yeah, Ishara, I'm a little cranky right now." "The question was rhetorical. I can read your mind," the Goddess snorted. "What happened to me?" "She bounced a bullet off your skull. You'll be okay. I am the Goddess of Medicine after all," she reminded me. "From an era when trepanning was popular. Color me unimpressed. Oh; and I apologize." "You will get me the fortune cookie next time," she lilted. Something crucial occurred to me. "Hey! I haven't had sex in a week. That hasn't happened to me in four years." "I don't think you are ready for that stage of our relationship yet," she tickled my nose. "Wait; did you just put me in the Friend Zone?" More laughter. "Seriously," I sighed. "Hayden?" "I forgive you," she soothed me. "Forgive me? I killed her. That is not okay. Wasn't; " "No, my Cáel. We are a blood-thirsty society and the ultimate mistakes are answered with the ultimate punishments. I cannot fully express my pride in you for what you did, even in opposition to my will." There was a pause in our relationship and conversation. I thought she sensed my turmoil and aided me in finding some level of peace. With her kind of entity, I would never be sure. "What did Carrig do to me?" I asked. "I don't know." That was not what I expect. Evasion; yes. The ugly truth; no. "I find the concept of an omniscient, omnipotent deity to be self-defeating," she mused. "Sort of negates the whole Free Will thing," I bantered. "Besides, what is the point of beseeching a being that already knows what's going to happen to you and would have saved you if that is what they wanted?" "Yeah," I groaned sarcastically, "I much prefer the divine ones who randomly fuck with your life because they can, rarely provide useful information and won't even put out on the second date." "I know this will cause you pain yet I will say it anyway; I love you." Yeah; I was suddenly wishing Pamela had missed and hit me between the eyes. "Very well, what can I do for you that would make you happier?" Inside of second. "Clever boy. Are you sure?" "Yes." "Done. I can no longer read your mind." A few seconds passed. "This is annoying. Is this what it is like dealing with me; this 'not knowing'?" "Yes and you proved it by the way," I murmured. Several more seconds. "This is really annoying me. Pick something else." Pause. "What does it prove?" "You love me," I grinned. "Love without freedom is illusionary. Freedom of thought is the basis of hope and hope drives all endeavors." A long pause. I was a bit curious about what was happening to my body. "Please." "No." "I could give you a divine gift; speak in tongues; regeneration; long life?" "Nope. Not happening." "I still love you." "Now I can say I love you and know I mean it." "That's unfair; clever and insightful, but unfair," she teased me. "What about the curse?" "Re-forge my statue at the Temple and the curse will be lifted. Be your regular creative self when you do so." Pause; divine sigh. "I need to send you back now. Oh, and make love to the first woman you see. It is important." "What? Why is it im;” and I felt the weight of my body and the throbbing of my temple. (Augurs don'ts and don't give a fuck abouts) I didn't want to open my eyes; really, truly, deeply. I had been dared by both guys and girls to pick up a certain female at a variety of events, even when they came with company. I'd done it because I'm that kind of low-life. Being pre-ordained to sleep with some chick felt wrong to me. It was cheating. I sincerely wished she hadn't been touching my face. Yes, someone was running their slender, feminine fingers over my forehead, eyebrows, eyelids, nose; yadda. "Ishara, I must speak with you," the strange woman implored. My eye movement had given my wakefulness away. I pried open my lids and looked up into the face of a living ghost. Her skin was albino pale with obvious veins and blue capillaries beneath the surface. Her ocular orbs were a deep milky white, with a tinge of light blue. I could barely make out the pupils. Her hair was whiter than Pamela's. From the structure and musculature of her hands and face; it was as if a perfectly healthy human woman's body was in a constant frantic battle against death. My senses expanded to embrace more of my resting place. I was in Katrina's office on the sofa. Katrina was not present. Buffy, the 'senior', Pamela, Rachel, Krasimira, the super-pale chick and two House Guard I didn't recognize were nearby. Despite my head throbbing to the beat of fiendish jackhammers, I managed to sit up. This upset the lady touching me as my movement broke our contact. "Ishara?" she pleaded. "That's it. From now on its Yakko Ishara, Wakko Ishara and Dot Ishara. Let's end all of this confusion over this 'which Ishara are we really wanting to talk to?' bullshit. So, what do you want?" I groaned. "I'm claiming the 'Yakko' spot, by the way." "Ishara?" she pleaded again. Was she protesting me taking the oldest Warner brothers' spot? Yeah, I was the youngest one of the pseudo-divine trio, but I absolutely owned the role of smart-alec. "She is an Augur," Krasimira explained. "The poisons she takes to put her in a receptive state to the ancestors, goddesses and the spiritual currents of the universe leave her blind and deaf to the mortal world. She communicates normally, but needs to be touching your lips to know what you are saying. Her name is Tadêfi and she has a message for you," she finished. "Give me a sec," I put my thoughts together despite my pain. Buffy shoved a glass of water and three pills my way. I downed them gratefully. Buffy was clearly distressed. I was getting the crap kicked out of me a lot and, in theory, it was her job to stop such things from happening. "Buffy, we couldn't have foreseen Carrig coming after me the way he did. He slipped through the seams of very good security," I tried to comfort her. "Pamela shot me on the Goddess/Dot Ishara's orders. She can only communicate with me when I'm in a near-death state," I said. "I have a new mission for you." I needed to keep her mind busy with things other than me. Buffy was action-oriented and I was giving her a doozy of a task. "Obtain at least five of the bullet casings from the battle that took my Father's life. Give them to Krasimira. They are to be melted down with the original statue and recast into a new symbol of the Goddess. We will be a melding of the old and the new," I ordered. Yes, I was sacrificing a priceless ancient artifact for a current political agenda. I'm reprehensible. Kimberly would be ashamed. "Now, who were the women whose names I gave you?" "They are all deceased 'Runners', Ishara," the senior told me. Oh; that made sense. "Tomorrow we induct them into House Ishara," I stated. "Ishara, they are dead," senior repeated. "Do you believe the souls of Amazons go to the houses of their ancestors after dying?" I posed. That took a few seconds to soak in. My almost albino was getting truly distressed so I took her hand and put it on my lips as I asked the latest question. "Oh;” the senior and Buffy both muttered. "All those 'Runners'; their spirits wander aimlessly for eternity bereft of companionship and a place to call home," I told them. "That is a crime," I continued. "Even as Ishara moves forward, we must be honest about our past. Those women earned a place in the Host. They were unduly denied their promised afterlife and we will start rectifying that tomorrow." Their looks broadcast their interpretation of my declaration: I was a wonderful child who had won first place for our team at the State Fair. Now that she was back in the communication loop, the augur calmed down. "You have a message for me?" I 'asked' her. Halfway through, I stopped enunciating. "Yes, Ishara. My dead sister stepped back through the flames and told me you;” she began. "No; stop," I told her. "Everyone leave." They honored my wishes and departed except; "What are you still doing here?" I asked the House Guard who remained. Now that I had a chance to study her, I realized she bore the same cuneiform designation as Krasimira. "I am her guardian. I am always at her side," the woman explained rather heatedly. She was certainly not a fan of the man in mankind. "By all means; have it your way. Augur, your message is unimportant. Write it down and have it sent out as a memo for everyone in Havenstone to read. Someone may tell me about it. I'm horrible with my e-mail, so I probably won't read it myself," I growled. This shit stopped now. I stood and made to leave. The augur swatted out and grabbed my arm when she hit it. "Ishara, you must;” and I lightly slapped her face. The guardian drew down on me. "How dare you?" the guardian seethed. "I am thinking the same thing; 'how dare you?'" I rumbled. "How dare you decide what messages she does, or does not, deliver?" "Tadêfi has something important to tell you," the guardian growled. "Augurs died to bring you this message." "Clearly the message isn't important enough for you to leave the room," I countered. "I took bullet to the head so I could talk to the Goddess Dot Ishara." I was going to enjoy calling my matron pain-in-the-cranium that. She was probably less amused. "I'm about out of patience with you smug, delusionary superior sluts demanding things from me as if you weren't my underlings," I glared. "Get with the program, or get out." Though I had told her to get out, I was the one leaving. I needed clothes, a shave and a chance to get my bearings. I didn't need those two. Tadêfi tried to speak again. I put my hand to her lips to stop her again then raised her hands to my lips. "I do not want to hear what you have to say," I related. "If you try to tell me what you have been told, I will purposely ignore it and cut out your tongue for your insolence. Your sisters died in vain because your guardian has decided what you say is not worth her leaving the room for us to talk in private. Sleep well with the dying screams of your sisters' agonies echoing in your mind and know your fellow Amazons have wished this fate upon you. Good-bye." "How; augurs are sacrosanct and their messages are rare and crucial to the Host," the guardian sputtered. "Didn't know, don't care and could care less what you think is crucial for the Host," I sighed as I started walking away. "What is happening?" the augur wailed. "Her visions are lacerations on her soul," the guardian howled. "Does her pain mean nothing to you?" Those two had to be incredibly tight, the guardian watching the augur scarred and worn down by the task she had been chosen for; and not being able to help. "Not enough to keep me here," I answered at the door. "She's your buddy, not mine and I have a plateful of unhappiness already set before me." I opened the door. "Is there a problem?" Krasimira inquired as I stepped out. She had a guardian too. Pamela was also close by and strategically placed to dispose of said guardian. "Her bodyguard told me to ignore Tadêfi, so I am," I muttered. I hurt. The pain-killers had yet to kick in; and I'd just come out of a coma. Fuck'em. If Ishara wanted me to nail that girl, she was going to have to step up on her level of assistance aimed my way. I accepted that she had her limitations, but so did I. "Cáel Ishara, is that precisely what she said?" the Keeper was being diplomatic. "No; what do I call you?" "Krasimira, Cáel," she answered. "I do not believe it was Tadêfi's intent to be ignored. May I mediate?" "No," I replied. "I will talk with Tadêfi alone, or not at all. Quite frankly, half the time you women open your mouths, I want to kick you off the roof of this building. Either I see some damn humility; your words, Krasimira; or I carry on the Amazon tradition with Ishara and her legion of former 'Runners' while the rest of you are throttled by your pride." Do note that the Executive Services floor was very active and several members heard my statement loud and clear. "May we please try this meeting one more time?" she requested. Her bodyguard nearly choked on Krasimira's gentle, conciliatory tone. "I could not consider myself an Amazon and deny the Keeper's suggestion on this matter. Let's give it one more shot," I conceded. All I was asking for was 'nice'. I wasn't deluded into thinking Krasimira was suddenly my fan. She was simply acting on the enlightenment that her ancestors and goddesses had revealed. We headed back into Katrina's office. As with any divine direction, she knew she had two choices; harm, or heal. She had accepted responsibility that to heal her people, the spirits had chosen a male. Liking me had nothing to do with it. Being true to her oaths and nature as an Amazon were the acting forces here. Amazons survived, first and foremost. They feared nothing, not even change. Her fellows had denied the need for change based solely on pride and Krasimira recognized that now. Back in Katrina's office, the guardian was trying to calm her nearly hysterical charge. I would have been much happier if we had been more alone. The room had become crowded with ghosts during my short absence. Krasimira, who was following, bumped into me. "Ishara?" she whispered. As unfortunate as that was, Tadêfi's blind eyes following the fixed stares of all the ghosts in my direction was worse. I squeezed my brain for an appropriate bit of trivia that would put my depression on its ass. There was this movie by M. Night Shakalaka-ding dong (or something like that) about a boy who saw dead people. The hero; the man trying to help the boy; he turned out to be a ghost as well who didn't figure that out until the end of the flick. But, it got better. Using the numerous ghostly gazes like searchlights pinning down an escaping convict, Tadêfi ran right into my arms. That was a pretty remarkable feat; a blind girl in an unfamiliar room covering four meters flawlessly. But, it kept getting better. All the ghosts started to yammer, clambering for attention. Tadêfi began to weep piteously. I had to wonder if this was Ishara's penalty for keeping my mind free of her meddling. No one else seemed to understand what the fuck was going on. Krasimira was the augur wrangler, not in tune with the spirits herself. She was also the Supreme Litigator, which necessitated her being able to interact with the mortal world on a constant basis, so I couldn't hold her lack of spiritual mojo against her. My instincts were telling me that screaming and yelling was pointless. The cacophony was incredibly vexing, but I could deal. Tadêfi couldn't. I was looking at this dilemma from the wrong angle. Instead of taking on the hundreds, I would take on the one. I placed one of the augur's hands on my lips then placed my hands over her ears. My hope was that since I could interact with the restless dead, my flesh could act as a buffer to their insistent beseeching of us for recognition of their numerous appeals. My first song was one of the melodies sung to me by Oneida's kin while I fought off her Death Pledge. Bit by bit, a tiny fraction followed by the greater whole, I pulled Tadêfi back from the brink of insanity. Eventually, she began mumbling a different refrain into my chest. "My ears work better than my lip-reading," I chided her playfully. The ghosts hadn't stopped their pleas for attention. It was the sonic and tactile sensation of my song upon her fingers and the fluctuation of my lungs in pushing forth the music that allowed her to focus on her mortal coil. As we sang together, eventually with her teaching me a few new ballads, we shut the world out. Once our shared reality collapsed down to just the two of us, the babble diminished then finally faded away. "May I relay my message now?" Tadêfi requested. "No, we have to have sex first," I replied. Whoops; shit-storm. What followed was a blur. "I can't have sex," Tadêfi murmured. "The touch of a man would corrupt me." Plus. "She is an augur," her guardian declared firmly. "She must remain a virgin." Plus. "Cáel Ishara, augurs cannot be;” Krasimira's tongue became tied. "You go, Tiger," Pamela tossed out there. "Tadêfi, where are you right now?" I began my rotation of responses. "Why does she have to be a virgin? And, thanks Pamela. That was less helpful than normal." "I aim to disappoint, Cheetah," Pamela smirked. I couldn't see her face, but I knew she was. She; Tarzan. Me; Cheetah, the Immortal baby chimpanzee. Just what I needed. "It is the law," the guardian moved to separate us. "She must not be touched by a man," Krasimira stated. "Not having intercourse is implied. If she has been corrupted, why did the spirits continue to surround her after Cáel's touch?" "Keeper, this cannot be allowed," the guardian changed her focus. "I agree in that this is your choice to make," Krasimira countered. "Without knowing the missive, you must decide what your charge may, and may not, do. Your oath is to her personally, not to me or any other entity. Consider what the task of guardian truly is before deciding." The convoluted decision: what was the chief duty of a guardian; the message, or the messenger? The augur could convey urgency yet was powerless to act without the guardian's permission. She had to trust her guardian with the basics of life. The guardian; she had to trust what could not be sensed, or even fully understood. "Why; why this condition?" the guardian returned her gaze to me. I could have been a dick. "Dot Ishara told me to have intercourse with the first woman I saw when I woke up," I said. "If you hurt her, I will kill you," the Amazon threatened. "First off, Tadêfi, would you like to fool around?" I might want to get my potential sex partners permission before proceeding. You know; not be a rapist. "I don't know what you want, but if this is what we must do," Tadêfi acquiesced. "First time sex is going to be painful, so be prepared," I cautioned both young women. "If you;” the guardian repeated her threat. "Cáel, you should give daily thanks I don't leave a trail of dead bodies everywhere you go," Pamela declared with malicious menace. "So many pretentious bitches; I tell you, my ability to tolerate your forgiving nature is being sorely tested, damn it." Wow, was that totally ass-backwards, or what? As a side note to life: I was going to receive a serious beat-down the second my sexual tryst ended. Two pernicious women: Buffy; I had been damaged by someone who wasn't her. There was no way she'd forgive me for that. And Pamela; I had sent Estere away to escort Libra instead of keeping the assassin close. Without a doubt, I had taken Pamela away from some odious errand conducted on my behalf, yet without my knowledge. Yes, some serious torment was headed my way. Back to the girl at hand. Back to being the 'me' I wanted to be. Oink! With torturous reluctance, the guardian made to leave. "Wait," I called out. "You can stay if you join us." Yes, I was angling for a three-way with a women who wanted to make line drives with a five iron using my nuts for golf balls; and the blind and deaf girl. I couldn

Cáel's tombstone: For the love of women, women put him here.In 25 parts, edited from the works of FinalStand.Listen and subscribe to the ► Podcast at Connected..

On this episode, we hear from a small town girl who has taken the professional BBQ circuit by storm. Her name is Megan Day, the co-owner and pitmaster of Burnt Finger BBQ who traded corporate life for a career in ‘cue. She's been serving world championship flavor since 2008 when a bacon explosion catapulted her to viral fame. Now, the seasoned pro is living her dream while bringing the fire to competitions - and airwaves - across the nation. Searing herself in BBQ history as more than someone with a knack for smoking their opponents, she has become a bona fide force to be reckoned with. Website: https://www.burntfingerbbq.com/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/burntfingermegan/?hl=en Twitter: https://x.com/burntfingermeg?lang=en Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BurntFingerBBQCheck out our YouTube Channel: https://youtu.be/DE_VjtgqLUs

Searing headlines, explosive world events, and chaos erupting across the globe. We are living in unprecedented times, especially when it comes to Israel. There's been an eruption of antisemitism across Europe and even here in America. So how did we get here, why are we seeing such turmoil, and is there hope for the future? Pastor Greg Laurie of Harvest Ministries shares what global events are revealing about the times we are living in and how the Church can shine the light to push back against the darkness. Miss last week's episode? Catch it here: https://traffic.megaphone.fm/TSF5207623508.mp3?updated=1729715729 WATCH Stakelbeck Tonight episodes for free on TBN+ here: https://www.tbnplus.com/c/sy/ptdulukx The Stakscast with Erick Stakelbeck podcast features host Erick Stakelbeck and special guests having candid, thought-provoking conversations on the state of America, the world, and the Church, plus powerful personal testimonies and stories. Tune in for deep discussions on the big issues that matter to you. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's been described as a searing account of the refugee exodus sparked by the Arab Spring and ensuing Syrian civil war. "The Strangers' Case" is a new film that follows a series of characters, most notably a Syrian doctor and her young daughter who decide to flee their homeland. The characters come together to illustrate the devastating consequences of war. The film premiered at the Berlin International Film Festival earlier this year and stars French superstar actor Omar Sy, among others. Brandt Andersen, an activist, writer and the film's director, joined us on Perspective to tell us more about it.

In this whirlwind 2024 political election year, public affairs issues include gender considerations, reproductive rights and governing boundaries. The central concept of "The Handmaid's Tale" opera is based on Margaret Atwood's dystopian-themed 1985 novel The Handmaid's Tale—that women are subordinate to men, must take on domestic and subservient roles including ritualized rape. Female worth is tied to becoming mothers. No reading, No owning property, No Careers Allowed. The theocratic extremist government is anti dissidents, academics, and "gender traitors." Discussion about Handmaid's Tale themes—this projected fictional situation of the United States in a "not too distant future year"—is amazingly relevant in consideration of the hot button issues of American public affairs during fall 2024. General Director Matthew Shilvock writes: “San Francisco Opera continues its second century with a season that demonstrates the potential of opera to connect to the most fundamental aspects of our humanity . . . through works of searing contemporary resonance like The Handmaid's Tale."  Organizer: Anne W. Smith   An Arts Member-led Forum program. Forums at the Club are organized and run by volunteer programmers who are members of The Commonwealth Club, and they cover a diverse range of topics. Learn more about our Forums. In Association with San Francisco Opera. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

From Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg to former President Bill Clinton to Oprah to Minnesota Governor Tim Walz accepting the Vice Presidential nomination, day three at the DNC was filled with energy and passion. Both Bill Clinton and Pete Buttigieg did not back down from speaking candidly about how America would look if Trump returned to the White House. There was a large focus on the events of January 6th. Video of the attack on the Capitol was shown to remind people, with the words “if reelected, he will never be held accountable.” Speaker Emerita Nancy Pelosi was introduced as the Mother of Dragons, Former President Bill Clinton said Kamala Harris would be the President of Joy and Speaker Hakeem Jeffries said Donald Trump is like an old boyfriend you broke up with who just won't go away. He said Trump is still trying to get back into a relationship with America and “bro we broke up with you for a reason!” We'll take a look at GOP efforts to put election officials in place with the intent of having them not certify election results. Former Federal Prosecutor and now defense attorney David Katz will help us make sense of the legalities involved.

On a Move: Philadelphia's Notorious Bombing and a Native Son's Lifelong Battle for Justice by Mike Africa Jr. https://amzn.to/4cs15Zw The incredible story of MOVE, the revolutionary Black civil liberties group that Philadelphia police bombed in 1985, killing 11 civilians—by one of the few people born into the organization, raised during the bombing's tumultuous aftermath, and entrusted with repairing what was left of his family. "As necessary and powerful as it is captivating." – Michael Harriot, New York Times bestselling author of Black AF History "Searing and urgent." – Bakari Sellers, New York Times bestselling author of My Vanishing Country and The Moment Before police dropped a bomb on a residential neighborhood on May 13, 1985, few people outside Philadelphia were aware that a Black-led civil liberties organization had taken root there. Founded in 1972 by a charismatic ideologue called John Africa, MOVE's mission was to protect all forms of life from systemic oppression. They drew their ideology from the Black Panther Party and pre-dated animal and environmental rights groups like PETA and Earth First. MOVE emerged in an era when Black Philadelphians suffered under devastating policies brought by the long, doomed war in Vietnam, Mayor Frank Rizzo's overtly racist police surveillance, and, eventually, President Ronald Reagan's War on Drugs. MOVE members lived together in a collection of West Philadelphia row houses and took the surname Africa out of admiration for the group's founder. But in MOVE's lifestyle, city officials saw threats to their status quo. Their bombing of MOVE homes shocked the nation and made international news. Eleven people were killed, including five children. And the City of Brotherly Love became known as the City That Bombed Itself. Among the children most affected by the bombing was Mike Africa Jr. Born in jail following a police attack on MOVE that led to his parents' decades-long incarcerations, Mike was six years old and living with his grandmother when MOVE was bombed. In the ensuing years, Mike sought purpose in the ashes left behind. He began learning about the law as a teenager and became adept at speaking and inspiring public support with the help of other MOVE members. In 2018, at age 40, he finally succeeded in getting his parents released from prison. On a Move is one of the most unimaginable stories of injustice and resilience in recent American history. But it is not only one of tragedy. It is about coming-of-age for a young activist, the strong ties of family, and, against all odds, learning how to take indignities on the chin and to work within the very system that created them. At once a harrowing personal account and an impassioned examination of racism and police violence, On a Move testifies to the power of love and hope, in the face of astonishing wrongdoing.

On today's episode, Chef Cal and Christa DeMercurio take you on a tasty journey, revealing their secrets for making cooking a delightful experience. In this episode, we're exploring the versatility of spaghetti squash, mastering the art of roasting meat, and finding the perfect wine pairings to elevate your meals. Trust us, you don't want to miss it!TODAY'S FEATURED RECIPE: How to Cook Butternut SquashHere are **5 keys** you'll learn from this episode:1. **Spaghetti Squash Magic**: Discover multiple ways to prepare and utilize spaghetti squash as a delicious, low-carb alternative to pasta. Think piccata style!2. **Meat Roasting Tips**: From prime rib to turkey, learn the essentials of searing, seasoning, and achieving the perfect tenderness with a dry rub.3. **Wine Selection Savvy**: Dive into the fascinating world of the Cabernet wine varietal and learn how tannins and aging affect flavor.4. **Kitchen Bonding Benefits**: Understand the importance of cooking together and the magic it creates in family relationships. Plus, get practical advice on communication and organization in the kitchen.5. **Advanced Meal Prep**: Get tips on efficient grocery shopping, meal prepping, and the art of utilizing leftovers to minimize waste.Send us a Text Message.We love FAN MAIL!

Nowadays you can't throw a rock without hitting an indie record that blends sludge of grunge and jangle of alt rock with the fuzz and breathy vocals of shoegaze and dreampop. As niche as that may sound - it is the sound of indie right now. And while Ringo Deathstarr certainly wasn't the first, their 2015 record Pure Mood may well be the first to get it right. Drawing heavy inspiration from 90s grunge and alt metal, the Austin trio's nearly perfect shoegaze record brings new meaning to the wall of sound cliche, and crafts a sound that went on to dominate indie music a decade later. Tracklist Ringo Deathstarr - Stare At The Sun Ringo Deathstarr - Heavy Metal Suicide Ringo Deathstarr - Frisbee Ringo Deathstarr - Acid Tongue Ringo Deathstarr - Big Bopper This show is part of the Pantheon Podcast Network. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Nowadays you can't throw a rock without hitting an indie record that blends sludge of grunge and jangle of alt rock with the fuzz and breathy vocals of shoegaze and dreampop. As niche as that may sound - it is the sound of indie right now. And while Ringo Deathstarr certainly wasn't the first, their 2015 record Pure Mood may well be the first to get it right. Drawing heavy inspiration from 90s grunge and alt metal, the Austin trio's nearly perfect shoegaze record brings new meaning to the wall of sound cliche, and crafts a sound that went on to dominate indie music a decade later. Tracklist Ringo Deathstarr - Stare At The Sun Ringo Deathstarr - Heavy Metal Suicide Ringo Deathstarr - Frisbee Ringo Deathstarr - Acid Tongue Ringo Deathstarr - Big Bopper This show is part of the Pantheon Podcast Network. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sunny, warm and breezy today with a high of 102. Clear and breezy tonight with a low of 80. Sweltering heat will envelop Dallas for the next couple of days, but relief is in sight. A heat advisory is in place with the temperature expected to hit 100 degrees today and tomorrow.  The heat index will be around 105 degrees. A summer cold front from the north is expected to reach North Texas early Thursday, dropping high temperatures into the upper 80s to low 90s for the remainder of the week and into the weekend. Scattered showers and thunderstorms are likely but should not be severe; Dallas' Fifth Court of Appeals has overturned a 2021 jury decision against alleged McKinney FBI informant Jonathan Rute; a Dallas police officer was put on paid administrative leave amid allegations he wrote “aim better” on social media this weekend after an assassination attempt on former U.S. President Donald Trump; And, Marlene Tello Fabian grew up speaking Spanish at home and, at first, she struggled with English classes in Dallas ISD. Now she wants to be the teacher who helps kids like her.  For more on today's stories and for the latest breaking news, visit dallasnews.com. And don't forget to check out The Dallas Morning News Rewards program for our virtual events. For more info on upcoming events, please visit rewards.dallasnews.com Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The West is in the middle of a record-shattering hot spell, fueling concern that crops and turfgrass could be harmed.Fortunately, there are ways growers and golf course superintendents can help this situation.Redox Bio-Nutrients has an array of technology to help plants through abiotic stress events such as excessive heat.Redox Chief Agronomic Officer Jared Sannar says products that can help plants better withstand prolonged hot spells include diKaP, Oxycom Calcium and H-85. This technology aids abiotic stress defense, keeps the plant hydrated, aids in water retention in the soil profile and stimulates root growth. Redox Turf Rx Sales Manager Todd Scott says K+ is a popular and effective choice by superintendents to help combat heat impacts on their courses.Scott says it's helpful to understand the basic agronomic principal of achieving Redox homeostasis, or plant charge balance, which is a foundational part of keeping plants at their productive best.

AP correspondent Donna Warder reports, a searing heat wave is gripping much of the U.S.

AP correspondent Julie Walker reports there's no escaping the heat for about 160 million people in America.

AP correspondent Donna Warder reports on Americans celebrating the Fourth of July.

AP correspondent Karen Chammas reports on the rising issue of sewage and garbage in camps for displaced Palestinians.

They're the "Searing" falls because it's a hot spring area.

-Planet Earth has 12 consecutive months of temp. record highs -Searing record temperatures across U.S, -Nine tornadoes struck the state of Maryland -6th house collapse on Outer Banks of N C -St. Petersburg Fl. rising water is constant threat. -Great Pacific Garbage Patch -Spanish Graveyard solar

TW: Self Harm (32:45-33:03)This week on Gunslinger's Gateway: In the wake of their battle with Graz'zt, the Book Keepers tend to their wounds, and everyone deals with the loss of one of their own differently. And while waiting for Lochrann to regain enough strength to attempt a resurrection, they continue their journey towards Caucoa.

Anne talks through making this easy honey soy pork tenderloin in the sous vide, but feel free to use this marinade with other cooking methods as well. The printable recipe is linked above, but if you're making your grocery list here's what you'll need: Meat: 1 pork tenderloin (about 1 lb) Marinade: Low sodium soy sauce (1/3 cup), honey (2 tbsp), black pepper (1/4 tsp), garlic (4 cloves) Searing: 1 tbsp neutral oil Single use items: Gallon ziplock, paper towels, aluminum foil  

Today on the HowToBBQRight Podcast, we've partnered with Schwank Grills to give y'all a discount (00:17)! Malcom was NOT ready to leave the Bahamas (01:32). There's something that just hits different with that Short Rib Mac & Cheese (04:39). Malcom wanted to try out something a little different (12:30). This is Malcom's favorite ceramic grill to cook on (19:11)… I tried to make Birria in the crockpot (19:55), and I found some really good store-bought Birria sauce (26:30)! I've got an idea for a Grande Gringo style spin on a CLASSIC pot roast recipe (30:20)! When should you be using a BBQ Mop when smoking meat (32:00)? Malcom uses this much broth when making gumbo (40:00). Should you be using GrillGrates on your pellet grills (42:37)? It's National Employee Appreciation Day (46:00)! This recipe used to get Malcom a lot of chicken checks in the competition barbecue circuit (48:07). Are pellet grills the BEST way to get crispy chicken skin (52:21)? Easter and Spring Break are right around the corner (55:45)...

In this episode of The PodCask, hosts Will and Greeze cover a wide range of topics, from whiskey tasting and industry news to discussions on linguistics and even corporate policies. Dive into the world of whiskey as the hosts share their thoughts on various spirits, including rare finds like a single barrel rice whiskey from Louisiana. Along the way, they share personal anecdotes, critique QR codes and Crocs, and debate the quality of rice in America. Join Will and Greeze for a delightful blend of humor, whiskey expertise, and insightful commentary on the latest whiskey trends and news. Whether you're a seasoned connoisseur or just getting into the world of whiskey, this episode has something for everyone. Cheers to a lively and entertaining discussion on all things whiskey!   00:00 Suspicious return with empty white claw cans. 06:12 Delicate with mature, sophisticated flavor whiskey. 09:57 Tasting notes: Honey, caramel, not much chocolate. 12:50 Positive review of 13th Colony Rye whiskey. 14:03 Searing, smoking, falling apart, great flavor. 18:01 German game show represents stereotypical precision. 21:38 Skiing behind the boat, Alabama police, regulations. 24:18 Power move, lazy, underfunded, redirecting mail. 27:28 New Discord channel for patrons, blind tastings. 31:00 Networking is key for his sought-after fame. 34:32 Unregistered trademarks have rights, but registration enhances. 38:05 Baristas stopped robbery, Starbucks criticized zero-tolerance policy. 39:29 Concern about safety and liability in workplace. 44:52 Straight Kentucky whiskey captures simplicity and authenticity. 47:53 QR code popularity thanks to COVID surge. 51:15 Revived Crocs, then behind Stanley Cup's success. 55:15 Comparison of 100 proof and 80. 55:54 Exciting whiskey offerings with diverse proofs.