Podcasts about shakespearean

Sorry this one's a bit late — but to make up for it, we've gone all in with an extra-long episode of General Witchfinders, split into two parts. This week, we take you through the extraordinary, over-the-top world of Flash Gordon (1980) — the space opera superhero film that blended camp comedy, science-fiction spectacle, and Queen's iconic soundtrack into something truly cosmic. The second half of this intergalactic adventure will land next week. Flash Gordon was directed by Mike Hodges, the British filmmaker behind Get Carter and Pulp, and produced by the legendary Dino De Laurentiis. Based on the King Features comic strip created by Alex Raymond, the film stars Sam J. Jones as the all-American hero Flash, Melody Anderson as Dale Arden, Ornella Muti as the dangerous Princess Aura, Max von Sydow as Ming the Merciless, and Topol as the eccentric scientist Dr. Hans Zarkov. The supporting cast includes Timothy Dalton, Brian Blessed, Peter Wyngarde, Peter Duncan and John Hallam — a line-up that reads like a who's who of cult cinema. We dig into the incredible production history of Flash Gordon, from De Laurentiis' first attempts in the 1960s to his decision to turn down George Lucas — a choice that helped inspire Star Wars. The film's troubled development included a scrapped version by Nicolas Roeg, with Debbie Harry once rumoured to play Princess Aura. Eventually, Hodges took the reins, working from a screenplay by Lorenzo Semple Jr., the same writer who brought Batman's colourful POW! ZAP! style to TV in the 1960s. That influence is clear throughout, giving Flash Gordon its unmistakable comic-book tone. The film was shot mainly at Elstree and Shepperton Studios, pushing British set design and visual effects to the limit. For the famous Hawkmen sequence, the crew built a sixty-foot-high, hundred-foot-wide blue screen powered by a million watts of light. The result is one of the most gloriously excessive moments in sci-fi history — a flying army, Brian Blessed shouting “Gordon's alive!” and Queen blasting through the speakers. Speaking of Queen, we explore how their soundtrack revolutionised film music, paving the way for rock bands to score major blockbusters. The combination of Freddie Mercury's operatic flair and Howard Blake's orchestral compositions gave Flash Gordon a sonic identity that still feels fresh today.We also look at the film's eclectic cast. Sam J. Jones' brief but memorable career, Melody Anderson's move from acting to social work, and Ornella Muti's headline-grabbing life and legal troubles. There's Max von Sydow's path from The Seventh Seal to The Exorcist and Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Topol's secret links to Mossad, Timothy Dalton's long and winding journey to becoming James Bond, and Peter Wyngarde's transformation from Department S to the gold-masked villain Klytus.And, of course, the mighty Brian Blessed — mountaineer, Shakespearean thunder-god, near-astronaut, and national treasure. From I, Claudius to Doctor Who, Cats, Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, and beyond, he's one of Britain's most extraordinary performers. In this episode, we unpack the layers of Flash Gordon as both cult classic and chaotic masterpiece: how its bright visuals masked a difficult shoot, how its camp sensibility influenced generations of filmmakers, and why it remains a cornerstone of British sci-fi fandom. Whether you're here for trivia, nostalgia, or the Queen soundtrack alone, this is one of our most detailed episodes yet — and we'll be back next week with part two to finish the adventure. Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/general-witchfinders. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

emocleW, emocleW, emocleW to the Distraction Pieces Podcast with Scroobius Pip!This is your bonus FRIDAY REWIND episode! Today, we catch up with Akala, originally episode 65 from 2015-10-28.Original writeup below:Pip and Akala cover lots in this in depth and honest chat, including the history of racism throughout Shakespearean text, the development of UK Hip Hop and how artists are able to see the world through music and so much more.PIP'S PATREON PAGE if you're of a supporting natureALL AKALA LINKS!INSTAGRAMDAN LE SAC VS SCROOBIUS PIP BANDCAMPPIP TWITCH • (music stuff)PIP INSTAGRAMSPEECH DEVELOPMENT WEBSTOREPIP TWITTERPIP IMDBPOD BIBLE Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Book:  An American Awakening Website(s):  www.prophetsource.com Social Media:   www.linkedin.com/in/aymie-å-daniels-06b8a11bb https://www.instagram.com/prophet_source/ https://www.youtube.com/@Prophet-Source An American Awakening: The Interdependent Relationship of Spirituality and Mental Health Paperback – July 18, 2025 by Aymie Å Daniels (Author) An American Awakening: A True Story of Spiritual Emergency and Cultural Reckoning What happens when a spiritual awakening doesn't look like peace and enlightenment—but chaos, confusion, and crisis? An American Awakening offers a rare, courageous look into the misunderstood phenomenon of Spiritual Emergency—a term first coined by Stanislav and Christina Grof in the 1970s to describe a transformational crisis with profound psychological and spiritual implications. Though recognized in some therapeutic and indigenous circles, this experience remains widely overlooked—and often mishandled—in modern American culture. Told through the lens of one woman's riveting, real-life journey, this memoir explores the collision between ancient wisdom and contemporary skepticism. In indigenous cultures, those who access metaphysical realms are revered as healers and shaman. In America, they're often misunderstood, pathologized, or dismissed. This book is more than a personal story—it's a cultural mirror, reflecting the lives of countless others navigating the same uncharted terrain. Honest, bold, and ultimately redemptive, An American Awakening is a call to reexamine how we view mental health, consciousness, and the transformative power of lived experience. WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING: In "An American Awakening," Aymie Daniels delivers a profoundly moving memoir that chronicles her journey through psychological crisis, addiction, and spiritual awakening. What distinguishes this brave narrative is Daniels' exceptional ability to articulate experiences that defy conventional description, challenging dominant mental illness narratives by revealing the spiritual dimensions of psychological transformation. Her unflinching account exposes the limitations of our mental healthcare system while offering hope through her own hard-won wisdom. The true value of this work lies in the practical frameworks Daniels provides for mental well-being, emotional regulation, and consciousness integration. Her "MAP" of mental health fundamentals represents decades of insight, presented with both vulnerability and strength. "An American Awakening" stands as a testament to human resilience and the transformative potential within psychological crisis—a beacon for those navigating their own difficult journeys and an invitation for all to reconsider our understanding of consciousness, spirituality, and psychological well-being. As Daniels poignantly reminds us, in healing ourselves, we help heal the world. Elizabeth Sabet, CEO, The Institute of Transformational and Transpersonal Coaching This candid memoir moved me to tears. Aymie's long haul to awakening, to health and wholeness was punctuated by a level of loss and tragedy few of us experience. I also laughed out loud. This memoir has all the hallmarks of a Shakespearean tragicomedy. In sharing how she saved her own life, Aymie's story is also a lifeline for you, particularly if your journey to awakening has taken the addiction route. But her message is for all of us. Her courage and determination are infectious. The perilous journey is worth it. Catherine G Lucas, Author of In Case of Spiritual Emergency: Moving Successfully Through Your Awakening

Author Bio: Sam Bilton has been intrigued by food history ever since her grandmother gave her a battered copy of Mrs Beeton's Cookery Book. Inside this book was a collection of handwritten recipes dating from around 1871 collated by her grandmother's Great Aunt Eliza. This little book would spark an interest in historical food which began as a hobby but would lead to a Masters in Culinary Arts and a career as a food historian, author, podcaster and supper club host/chef.Sam's first book on the history of gingerbread won a World Gourmand Cookbook award in 2021. She has also published Fool's Gold: A History of British Saffron (Prospect Books, 2022); The Philosophy of Chocolate (British Library Publishing, 2023) and Much Ado About Cooking, in collaboration with Shakespeare's Globe (October 2025).  She also contributed an essay on Christmas food traditions for the Phaidon Christmas Book (2023). Sam is the editor of Petits Propos Culinaires (PPC) an international journal on food, food history, cooking and cookery books and is a frequent contributor to national magazines, food festivals, television and radio. Sam produces and presents the Comfortably Hungry podcast which won the audio award for the Fortnum & Mason Food and Drink Awards in 2025. She is also a co-host/producer on the A is for Apple podcast.For further information visit sambilton.com  or follow Sam on Instagram and Bluesky @mrssbilton.Much Ado about Cooking (UK) October 23 https://www.amazon.co.uk/Much-Ado-About-Cooking-Shakespearean/dp/1035427680Much Ado about Cooking (US) November 11 https://www.amazon.com/Much-Ado-About-Cooking-Shakespearean/dp/1035427680_____Cookbook lovers, this one's for you! Get 25% off a subscription to ckbk with code WELLSEASONED — the ultimate digital cookbook library. Access nearly 1,000 full cookbooks from top authors Use on web and mobile app for cooking anytime, anywhere Save favorites, create custom "recipe playlists", search by ingredient and dietary preference Sync with your print cookbook collection via Eat Your BooksPerfect for serious home cooks and cookbook collectors alike.Go to the link https://join.ckbk.com/ckbk?code=WELLSEASONED

The Culture Show's Jared Bowen discusses the Louvre heist, and ballroom demolition at the White House and an Indigenous art at the ICA.NBC Sports Boston's Trenni Casey on the Shakespearean trajectory of Bill Belichicks career, Shohei Ohtani's run for GOAT of baseball, and a women's pro baseball league coming to Boston.Harvard national security expert Juliette Kayyem on the latest Trump effort to send national guard troops to Portland, Oregon. Plus, Virginia Giuffre's memoir.Naturalist and author Sy Montgomery zooms in to discuss how poison in dolphin brains near Miami might be a warning for Alzheimer's in humans. And, she'll reflect on the loss of one of her own idols through life, Jane Goodall.

You will serve that which you laugh at.Topics in this episode include how to pronounce “Szombathely,” Buck Mulligan's incredible entrance into “Scylla and Charybdis,” Nicolas Cage, the heresies of Photius and Sebellius, Gloria in Excelsis Deo, why the other men must be relieved to see Buck Mulligan, whether we agree with Joyce's claim that Mulligan wears on the reader throughout the course of Ulysses, Buck Mulligan playing the role of a Shakespearean fool in Ulysses, Will Kempe, why Mulligan's tomfoolery must be directed at Stephen, why Mulligan's clowning is ultimately hollow, Buck Mulligan as God's messenger, why Stephen doesn't accomplish anything on Bloomsday, Mulligan's shifting identity, and joking for joking's sake.Support us on Patreon to get episodes early, and to access bonus content and a video version of our podcast.On the Blog:Puck Mulligan: A Joycean-Shakespearean FoolBlooms & Barnacles Social Media:Facebook | BlueSky | InstagramSubscribe to Blooms & Barnacles:Apple Podcasts | Spotify | YouTube

To celebrate the release of Guillermo del Toro's Frankenstein (Netflix, 2025), Bella and Nick revisit three unforgettable film adaptations of Mary Shelley's iconic Gothic novel.From the classic Universal monster movies that defined early Hollywood horror, to Mel Brooks' legendary parody and Kenneth Branagh's (somewhat) faithful 1994 retelling, this episode of the Gimme Three Podcast dives into how each filmmaker reimagined Frankenstein for a new generation.First, James Whale and Boris Karloff create the pre-Code masterpiece that cemented the image of Frankenstein's monster in pop culture. Second, Gene Wilder and Mel Brooks deliver a comedic yet affectionate homage in the cult favorite Young Frankenstein (1974). Finally, Kenneth Branagh directs Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1994), starring Robert De Niro as The Creature in a lavish, Shakespearean take on the timeless story.Whether you're a horror movie buff, a classic film fan, or just curious how Mary Shelley's Frankenstein keeps coming back to life on screen, this episode has you covered.❗️SEND US A TEXT MESSAGE ❗️Support the showSign up for our Patreon for exclusive Bonus Content.Follow the podcast on Instagram @gimmethreepodcastYou can keep up with Bella on Instagram @portraitofacinephile or Letterboxd You can keep up with Nick: on Instagram @nicholasybarra, on Twitter (X) @nicholaspybarra, or on LetterboxdShout out to contributor and producer Sonja Mereu. A special thanks to Anselm Kennedy for creating Gimme Three's theme music. And another special thanks to Zoe Baumann for creating our exceptional cover art.

Published in 1818, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus had a profound impact on the Gothic horror and science fiction genres. Book's author, Mary Shelley, was heavily inspired by the scientific development of her time, when huge advances in our understanding of the natural sciences took place and, sensational science demonstrations caught the imagination of the general public.During the 7th Silesian Science Festival Katowice (7. Śląski Festiwal Nauki Katowice), we had the opportunity to meet Dr Kathryn Harkup, a chemist, writer, and science communicator. In her book Making the Monster: The Science Behind Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (Przepis na potwora. Jak z odkryć naukowych narodził się Frankenstein) she explores the scientific background behind Shelley's book. Is Frankenstein a story about a monster or an evil scientist? Or about the nature of humanity? And which scientists influenced Shelley?Feel free to explore the topic with Agnieszka Barbach.Kathryn Harkup also wrote books about technology in James Bond stories, potions in Agata Christie's crime novels, and Shakespearean deaths.

Cabin Cousins: Part 1 Cousins reunion: a childhood friendship becomes love. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connections. Chapter One. It was one of those glorious mid-October days in Minnesota, where morning frost gives way to clear blue skies and temperatures warm enough for wearing tee shirts. My name is Charles, by the way, nice to meet you. Please don't call me Charlie, or Chuck or Chucky, I hate that. I work at a big box home improvement store near my home on the west side of the Twin Cities. I'm eighteen, and have spent most of the summer since graduating, being overworked and underpaid. I took Saturday, Sunday, and half of Friday off so that I could drive up and spend the weekend 'up north' at the family cabin, near Pelican Lake. Built by my great grandfather, Olaf Larson, in the early 1900's, the cabin was a place that anyone in my (quite large) extended family was free to use. The cabin itself is rather small, just a single room, adorned with a century's worth of hunting trophies and antique nick knacks. There were spaces in the woods around the cabin yard where people would park their RV's, and some nice grassy clearings for setting up tents. There was someone there on most weekends between spring and fall, and sometimes it was a pretty full house, with ten or twenty people showing up for a relaxing weekend of doing nothing. This, likely the last weekend of decent weather for the next six months or so, was going to be a busy one. I was halfway through the three hour drive, when my mom called me on my cell phone to make sure I was on my way, and if I had remembered my tent. Yes, I had remembered my tent, and yes, I remembered my sleeping bag and an extra blanket because it was going to get cold at night. Thanks, mom. Then she listed off who was there, and who else was on their way. Aunts and uncles, older brothers and sisters, relatives of every age and variety. My heart skipped a beat though, when she added as an afterthought that my cousin Melissa Olson, was there. Actually, she was my second cousin, but more importantly, she was my friend. Growing up, my weekends were occupied by exploring the woods around the cabin, fishing and swimming in the lake, or just hanging out around the fire pit chatting and telling stories. Many of those weekends, Melissa was right there at my side. I had more in common with her than with any of the male relatives close to my age, in terms of interests and personality, so often it was just the two of us. About three years back, there was some kind of family drama that I really didn't pay attention to, but as a result, the whole branch of the family that Melissa belonged to stopped showing up to family gatherings. I was fifteen at the time, and though I was really sad that I didn't get to see Melissa anymore, I was, you know, fifteen. At that age, there is so much going on in your life that, as sad as a change may be, something else always fills the gap. Once off the phone with my mom, all I could think about was Melissa. Memories of our adventures effervesced in my mind. I thought of the last time I saw her, how she smiled and said "See you next time!" with a quick hug. Through the years growing up, I never really put much thought into her appearance, but remembering that last goodbye, it dawned on me that she had always been quite pretty. At fifteen, she was only a little shorter than my own average height, and had a slim athletic build. She was always big into track and field sports at her school. What I remember most about her was her smile, carefree and easily expressed, and her eyes. She had the most beautiful icy blue eyes I had ever seen, eyes that truly were windows to her soul. Maybe it's just that I knew her so well, but with just one glance at her eyes, I could tell instantly what she was feeling, and have a pretty good idea of what she was thinking about. I wondered if it would be the same way after not seeing her for three years. She was almost exactly the same age as me, having been born in February of 1980, to my January of the same year, which means that she must have graduated high school this year too. I began imagining what she looked like now, and was only a few miles away from the cabin when I realized I had a raging erection. This, was no good. Regardless of how I was getting aroused.  The thought was of a childhood friend who was also a relative. I'll say I wasn't too proud of it, at that moment. I couldn't show up to a family gathering like this. I turned off onto a forestry road that I knew well, and piloted my pickup down one of the narrow overgrown logging trails that deer hunters use, to get to their stands. I've been down all of these trails, and know a hundred places that are perfect for when someone needs a little "alone time". I parked my truck and listened for a minute, just to be sure there wasn't anyone else driving around nearby. Still in the driver's seat, I unbuttoned my fly, and pulled my pants down to my ankles. I wrapped a hand around my cock and sighed with the pleasure of immanent release. Normally I would spunk to fantasies involving girls from high school, or one of the models from the couple of nudie mags I had hidden under my mattress at home. But right then, all I could imagine was Melissa, and my mental image of what she looked like now. I stroked furiously, and felt myself quickly building to orgasm. I hastily rummaged in the door pocket for a napkin with my left hand, found one, and barely had enough time to get it into place before I erupted. I groaned as I came, sending spurt after spurt of cum into the napkin, which wasn't up to the task of containing such a massive load. I sat there for a while, breathing hard, and feeling the cum that had soaked through the napkin ooze onto the palm of my left hand. It had been a while since I had cum that hard or that quickly. As the glow of orgasm faded, I started thinking that it wasn't right to get off like this to Melissa, but I knew I would have been a liar; if I said I wouldn't do it again. I cleaned up as best as I could with a few more napkins, got my pants back up, and checked myself in the vanity mirror just in case there was some glaring evidence that I had just jerked off. Satisfied that I looked normal, I arranged myself in my underwear so that if and when I got another boner, it would at least be pointing down, and not straight out for all of the family to see. I arrived at the cabin a few minutes later. People were spread out, around the yard; reading books, getting fishing equipment ready, or tending the fire in the stone fire pit. I was greeted with waves and hellos; nothing very enthusiastic. I mean, I do see most of these people pretty regularly. And honestly, I wasn't overly excited to see them either. I was however, very excited to see Melissa again, but looking around the yard, I didn't spot her anywhere. Then I heard the sharp crack sound that the cabin's screen door makes when someone lets it's spring slams itself shut. I looked over, and saw Melissa walking around the corner of the cabin. I hope no one saw my jaw drop, because she was gorgeous. She was barefoot, her long athletic legs disappearing beneath a knee-length flower pattern sun dress that flowed around her as she strode. Her hair was longer that she used to have it, and it trailed gracefully behind her, it's sandy blonde color glowing in the sunlight. When she noticed me, her face lit up. The warmth of her smile could have melted a glacier. "Charles!" She squealed. She ran across the yard and practically threw herself into my arms, hugging me tight. I hugged her back, just as tight. "Oh my God, it's so good to see you!" She said, laughing with joy. I don't think anyone had ever been so excited to see me in my entire life, and it felt a bit awkward, but I felt the same about her, so I just went with it. "It's great to see you too." I said. We broke off our hug, but she kept an arm around my back. She started moving towards the cabin, and I went with, putting an arm across her shoulders. "It's been over three years," She said excitedly. "We have so much to catch up on!" I craned my neck up to try and look down on her. "I see you're still a little bit shorter than me?" She poked me in the belly and said with mock sternness. "You're wearing boots. Take them off and we're the same height." Be both laughed, and I was struck again at how beautiful she was. Even her laugh was like music. As we walked, my eyes strayed to her chest, where the slightest bit of a lacy white bra could be seen under the edge of her dress. Her tits were, for lack of a better word, perfect. They weren't large, a B cup I imagined, as if I knew anything about the particulars of tit size. What they were though, were proportionate. They were just the right size and shape for her. I was starting to imagine what they would look like free from any clothes, and must have spent just a few too many seconds looking. Something made me look up at her face, and I saw her watching me with a funny little smile. Our eyes locked, and I was surprised to not only see a lack of offence there, but for all I could tell, she was pleased that I was ogling her. She looked away with a satisfied smile, and gave me a little squeeze with the arm that was still around my back. "Your mom is almost done with dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Chapter Two. My mom fried up walleye that my older brothers had caught earlier that day, and we all ate more than we should have, but man, nothing is better than pan-fried walleye that was in the lake just a few hours prior. After dinner, when everyone was just lounging around and catching up on gossip, I got my tent out of the bed of my pickup, and started walking towards the farthest away clearing to set it up in. Melissa called out to me. "Can you set mine up too?" "Sure." I called back. "Where do you want it?" "Next to yours is fine. I promise I don't snore too loud." She replied, which got some laughs. I set up the tents, and went back, claiming a spot on one of the benches near the fire. Melissa had changed out of her dress into some loose-fitting jeans and a blue tee shirt. She was in the process of explaining what she had been up to recently. She had moved out of her parent's house in Duluth back in February, on her eighteenth birthday. She didn't have a place to stay yet, so she spent a few weeks living in her car, a beat up old Toyota Camry, before one of her friend's parents took pity on her, and let her stay with them until she got her own place. Now, if you know anything about being in Duluth, Minnesota in February, you can imagine how much that sucked. My heart ached in empathy for her, and I actually teared up a little. Thankfully the wind was shifting around, so I could pass it off as just getting smoke in my eyes. Melissa continued her story, about how the people who had taken her in offered her a part time job to work as a cashier in their store. She worked evenings and weekends until she graduated high school; at which point she got a small apartment south of town. She still worked at their shop, but now pretty much ran the place, which the owners were ecstatic about, because it finally gave them the opportunity to do some traveling. As I listened, I became more and more in awe of Melissa. Let's use me as an example to compare and contrast. I'm of average height for a guy, with an average build. Melissa is slightly above average height for a girl, with a fit and toned body. My face isn't particularly handsome. Again, very average. She has the heart-shaped face of an angel. I live at home with my parents. I don't pay rent. I have an okay job, but what money I make, I tend to spend frivolously. She has her own apartment, a good job, and is saving her own money to go to college next year. I couldn't do anything but watch her as she talked. I noticed tiny details that I never even thought to look for on anyone else; How her neck moved when she talked, how she flipped her head to get her hair out of her face, how every time our eyes met, her smile would get just a little bit wider. I felt utterly unworthy to be in the presence of such a glorious creature. As the night went on, people went off to their beds in their campers and tents, or one of the four beds in the cabin and its three season porch. Eventually it was just me and Melissa. She came over and sat in the old metal glider bench seat, right next to me, resting her head on my shoulder and gazing into the glowing remnants of the fire. "I've missed coming here." She said quietly. "It's so peaceful." "I missed you." I replied. She looked up at me and smiled. "I've missed you too." For a long time we sat there in silence just staring at the red and orange coals. Eventually they were dying away, and we began to see our breath in the increasingly chilly air. Melissa yawned. Even the way she did that, was beautiful to me. "I think it's time for bed." I whispered to her. She nodded in agreement, and I walked with her to where our tents were. She gave me a tired hug, said goodnight, and went into her tent. I entered my own tent, stripped down to my underwear, (I always sleep in just my boxer briefs,) and crawled into my sleeping bag. It was one of those big flannel old-school ones, not one of those small mummy bags. It had enough room inside for me to really sprawl out, and was plenty warm enough for camping in just about any kind of weather. I'm pretty sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I awoke to a rustling in the leaves outside my tent. It was too heavy to be from raccoons. My first thought was that it was a black bear, as it wasn't unusual for a black bear to wonder through the cabin yard. But when I heard the zipper to the tent flap, I was reassured. I was confused though, as to who would be coming into my tent in the middle of the night. The flap opened, and I saw a silhouette, blond hair glowing silver in the moonlight. My heart instantly started racing. Was I dreaming? Melissa was sneaking into my tent! With the moonlight coming through the open tent flap, she could see that I was awake. "I'm c-cold." She whispered. Without thinking, I opened up my sleeping bag. "Come on." I whispered. She crawled into the tent, zipping up the flap behind her, then scrambled into my sleeping bag with me, still fully dressed. She was freezing. I pulled her in tight to me, spooning her from behind, and wrapping one arm under her neck, the other one over her, and wrapping around her waist. I even had one leg over her thigh. I explained it was to transfer body heat as quickly as I could. Her shivering eventually subsided. As she drifted off to sleep, she said in a barely audible whisper. "I hate the cold." While her breathing reduced to long, slow, deep breaths; I laid there thinking about just how much I loved this moment with Melissa. I've had a few girlfriends, but none of them were very serious. Even though I thought I loved them, I now knew that I had no idea of what love was. Until this moment. As I watched Melissa sleep, I realized that I loved her, truly and deeply. I nestled my face against the back of her neck, breathing in the herbal smell of her. I fell back asleep with joy in my heart. When I awoke again, it was just getting to be light out, and the first birds were beginning to sing. I looked at Melissa, still wrapped in my arms, and sleeping with an expression of serene contentment. It was at this time that my body caught on to the fact that it was pressed up against a very beautiful female, and I started to get worried that the rock hard penis pressing into Melissa's lower back would wake her up. I don't know if it was because of that, but she did wake up before too long. She shifted and stretched, before slightly rotating her back so she was nestling back against me. "What happened last night?" I asked with my arm on my hip. "Don't you have a sleeping bag?" "I do, I got it at Goodwill, so it was cheap, but it's not very good." "Well, I have a blanket you can use, and I'm pretty sure there's extra bedding in the cabin." She sighed contentedly and pulled my arm back around her waist. "Or; I could sleep here again tonight?" "Or you could sleep here tonight." I replied. After a little while she said. "You're warm." And hard, I thought. There was no way she didn't know. I yearned to kiss her. I yearned to grab her hips and grind my cock against her. I wanted to explore her whole body with my hands. I wanted her to put her hands on me. But I was terrified of doing anything, even suggesting anything that she didn't want. I was torn, because I was pretty sure that she did want something. The looks she gave me the previous day, the little smiles, and now snuggling up against me and my hard cock, all screamed in my head to do something, anything! I was just about to slide my hand down to her hip when she announced. "I have to pee." As she was leaving my tent, she turned back and gave me a small kiss on the cheek, a quick smile, then was gone. It took a while for my hard-on to subside, but once it did, I got dressed and went outside. Chapter Three. With a slight detour through the trees, (being a guy has some advantages, the whole forest is my urinal.) I joined the family in the cabin yard. One of my uncles was making eggs and bacon on a grill top griddle, and everyone else was in a different state of waking up. My mom asked Melissa and me, if we were warm enough in our tents last night, and informed us that there were extra blankets. I said that I was fine. Melissa cheerily replied that she was toasty warm, and I had to look away to avoid being seen smiling like an idiot. Even though nothing happened, it still wouldn't look good for the whole family to know that I was spooning my cousin all night. After breakfast, it seemed like everyone but Melissa and I, had plans to do things during the day. Some were going fishing, some were going into Pine River, Breezy Point, and Nisswa, to shop the antique stores and other shops. Melissa looked at me with that smile that somehow was more than just an innocent smile. "So, what do you want to do today?" She asked me. "We could go for a hike. Find some of the trails we used to know?" Her face lit up. "Yes! Let's go find Pine Grove Cathedral! We could bring lunch and make a picnic out of it, too!" "So, what do you want to eat for lunch?" "I don't know, what do you want to eat for lunch?" She said mockingly, then laughed. "Oh, no, I don't play that game. I know what I like to eat, so I'll get the lunch together." She hopped up from the camp chair she was sitting in, and skipped to the cabin. Like, actually skipped. It was adorable. Though, how her ass moved in her jeans as she went, was an even better sight. I stuffed an old quilt into a backpack, then after a moment's thought, crammed in two hoodies. It might get cold earlier tonight, I was not going to let Melissa be cold if there was anything I could do about it. Soon we were walking side by side along the dirt road that lead past the cabin. From there we cut along an ATV trail to one of the State forestry roads, heading deep into the woods where there weren't any other cabins. We chatted as we walked, about music and school, and a host of other mundane things. It really didn't matter to me what we talked about. At some point we started holding hands, and it seemed like the most wonderful, natural thing ever. I began to notice that, unlike literally every other conversation I had ever had, with anyone my age, Melissa was being absolutely honest and forthright. Like an open book, she wasn't hiding anything, so I made a conscious decision to do the same for her. When the conversation came to the topic of previous relationships, I told her about some embarrassing things that happened to me when I was with my first girlfriend. Things that I had sworn to myself to never speak of again. She laughed, but with me, not at me, and countered with an even more embarrassing story from her past. It was surreal. We shared what our thoughts and feelings were, when we had been in particularly awkward situations. We told each other our fears and insecurities. It felt so good to lay my most personal self out before her, and be accepted as who I am. And to have her do the same, well, it was by far the most amazing experience of my life, so far. We had wondered down miles of ever smaller dirt roads, until the two dirt tracks on a grassy path ended in a clearing, marking the farthest someone could go in a car. There were a couple of footpaths that led away from here, and I had to search a bit through the overgrown brush to find the one I wanted. At one time the path was a logging road, but all traces of that were long gone. Back in the twenties, or even before, this whole area had been clear cut. Most of the existing forest had grown up naturally from that, but there were some places that had been replanted, then forgotten about. The path led us up a hillside, thick with huge Oaks, and Elms, and Maples, leaves ablaze in oranges, reds, and yellows, in dazzling and vivid variety. When we neared the top of the hill, we looked at each other and smiled. The place up ahead was our favorite place in all of the this forest. We weren't ever officially allowed to go this far on our own, which had made it all the more special. Cresting the hill, the forest changed. Gone were the leafy hardwoods, in their place were endless evenly spaced rows of towering Red Pines. For as far as we could see in every direction, arrow-straight trunks rose to the sky. Far above, their branches intertwined, lush needles blocking any but the barest glimpse of the sky. Even though we were grown up, this place still had that awe-inspiring sense of hugeness. Our talking stopped as we were struck with a sense of reverence for this magical place. In silence, we walked down the row for a while, then cut across the rows towards a patch of sunlight in the distance. It was a clear space where a storm, long before our time, had blown down some trees, which had then been scavenged for firewood. I was pleased to see that it wasn't overgrown with trees, but had remained a perfect little grassy meadow, nestled inside a living cathedral. We walked out into the middle, and looked around. Melissa spoke softly. "Nothing from my childhood is ever as good as I remember it, but this.." She trailed off. "Is better." I added, watching her closely. "So much better." She agreed, turning in a circle to take it all in. She stopped, facing me. "Are you hungry?" I asked. She gave me that funny little smile, and when her blue eyes met my green ones, it finally clicked. The whole time since our reunion, every time she looked at me, the same emotion, the same desire, was there to see in her eyes, clear as day. When she responded with "I'm starving," I knew she didn't just mean that she was hungry for the sandwiches she had in her backpack. But, then again, we had just walked almost ten miles through the woods. So, when she started digging out the aforementioned sandwiches, I wasn't completely disappointed. Chapter Four. I spread out the old quilt I had packed, and we sat cross legged facing each other, close enough for our knees to be touching. We talked as we ate, and laughed at the occasional burp, or dribble of jelly from our p b and j sandwiches, that were gone in short order. We had talked about some pretty personal things today, but what she asked next, kinda caught me off guard. "How often do guys jerk off?" Without trepidation I replied. "I jerk off at least once a day, usually before bed. I think I'm pretty normal as guys go, so... yeah." "So, do you just, Could you do it more if you wanted to?" She asked, looking genuinely curious. "Yeah, I guess. There's usually tons of times during the day that I could do it if I had the time and the privacy." "Could you do it any time you want, like, do you need to get in the mood?" I laughed. "Guys don't need much to get in the mood. Like really, it doesn't take much at all to get me hard, and then I'm ready to go, if I wanted to. It's actually pretty annoying. What about you, girls I mean?" "Oh, I'm horny All the time. For the longest time, I thought I was some kind of sexual pervert, until one of my girlfriends said she was the same way." Subconsciously conjuring a few mental images, and out of my own curiosity, I asked. "How often do you?" "Every morning. Every night. Usually once during the day." She stated matter-of-factually. "Wow." I said, then after a slightly awkward pause. "Are you right now?" "All. The. Time." She said, staring into my eyes. "Especially right now." "Me too" I said softly. She glanced quickly down to the bulge in my pants, then returned her eyes to mine. "I noticed." Her voice was almost a whisper. She leaned in a little closer to me. "Have you, since you got here yesterday?" "I did on the way up, to avoid any, you know, embarrassment that might pop up, but not since. You?" She shook her head in the negative, and moved closer. Her face was right in front of mine. I studied the intricate detail of her irises, and by the way they moved, I could tell she was studying mine. Our lips were so close to touching, I could feel the heat of her quick and shallow breath on my face. I summoned the courage to make the actual first move. She made a tiny inaudible gasp as my hand brushed the underside of her jawline, and slid along her neck under her ear. I let my fingers sift their way into her silky hair, and gently cupped the back of her head. As I pulled her towards me, her lips parted to meet mine. My tongue found hers, and we both made a humming moan of pleasure, as we began kissing. Slowly at first, tentative and gentle, but soon becoming more urgent and intense. We were like two starving people, set before a lavish buffet. After the first few bites, the body remembers what it needs most, and ravenous hunger takes control. After what seemed like forever, and no time at all, we parted, breathing heavy and licking saliva off of slightly numb lips. The look in her eyes, was subtly different now. The need was still there, without a doubt, but now I could see so much more. A tiny change in the way she was looking at me, or perhaps just a change of how I was seeing her, and it was as if her eyes were screaming "I love you!" I hoped she could see my love for her, in my eyes. She moved back in quickly, and our kissing resumed. This time it remained slow and passionate, and was all the sweeter for it. Our hands began roving over each other's body, from neck to back, to hips, to chest, and every curve and line between. I cupped her firm tits and gave them slight squeeze, making her moan into my mouth. She caressed my cheeks with her palms, then slowly trailed her hands down, down, down, until she found my belt. She fumbled around a little, trying to get it unbuckled, so I reached down and helped. That done, she wasted no time in undoing the top button of my button fly jeans. With the first one free, she pulled to the sides, and the rest popped open in a string. We had stopped kissing, as what was going on required a little bit more concentration than we would have been able to give. I shifted a little to make it easier for her to tug on my underwear, and send a hand down inside. I gasped as she closed her hand around my Very erect cock, and pulled it up into the open. Realizing I was behind in the undoing-of-pants race, I went for her waist, only to find her jeans already open. Sneaky girl. She must have done her own before mine. I laid beside her, the two of us on our sides, facing each other. I slid a hand inside her pale blue panties, and was surprised to find that she had shaved her pubic hair. Not that it's anything strange or unusual, I just wasn't expecting it. I liked it. I went farther down, and when my fingers slid down along her labia, she shuddered. Breathing hard now, she pressed her cheek against mine, then started sliding her hand up and down my shaft. She was doing it very differently than I do it, naturally; and I had been a little anxious that she wouldn't know how to do it right. Well, she didn't. But that didn't matter, because it still felt amazing. I slid my middle finger into the wet hotness between her pussy lips, moving it slowly through and back. I varied the motion a little bit, here and there, being mindful of how her body responded. When I would do something, and she would gasp in pleasure, I did more of that. Remembering something I read in a magazine, yes I read the articles too, I moved my hand a little farther down and found the opening to her hole with my middle finger. I slowly pushed it inside of her. She moaned loudly, and rested her head on my shoulder. I moved my free hand to the back of her head, holding her against me. She had stopped stroking me, but I didn't care. She laid flat on her back and surrendered to my overture. I wanted to make her cum. I needed, to make her cum. I began moving my finger in and out of her, massaging the inside of her, with a "come here" motion, just like the article said to do. She was moaning with every breath now, and she started rocking her hips in time with my finger. Her moans got louder and louder, every breath quicker than the last. I moved my finger a little quicker, with a little more pressure. Finally, she took one last deep breath and held it in. Her whole body was quivering, and I could feel her pussy spasm tightly around my finger. She let out her breath as a long sigh. She raised her head and rolled to look at me with complete satisfaction. Cupping my face with her hand, she kissed me. Remembering that she had neglected my needs, she pulled back a little and started to say; "I'm sorry", but I stopped her with a finger to her lips. I kissed her, and as I did, I felt both of her hands wrap around my cock. She must have read an article or two, herself, because what she did, felt wonderful. She sat up and rolled me onto my back. She moved her hands in unison, up and down, gripping firmly, but not too hard. She added a slight twist to the hand that went over the head of my cock, and it was my turn to start moaning. She laid down by me, her head on my shoulder as I took her into my embrace. She looked down to watch what she was doing to me, and I kissed her forehead, before beginning to pant into her hair She kept stroking me, and I could feel my own orgasm build. This wasn't a quick jerk and spurt, like I'm usually satisfied with. No, this was different. This orgasm was building like an avalanche, powerful and unstoppable. I was distinctly aware that I was ever closer to climax, I could tell that she was excited to have this opportunity. Release was immanent, and I managed to gasp "I'm going to cum". The avalanche roared through me, and I shuddered as I felt spurt after spurt of cum shoot through my cock. My geyser shot up and slightly off to my side, where in landed somewhere in the patchwork quilt. Melissa sat up and witnessed the 3 following ‘aftershocks'.  My hand was back in her panties, finger again inside her, so I went back to work. I felt her body respond to my renewed attentions, quickly re-attaining that urgent build to climax. She moved back down to my embrace, and I used my free hand to keep fingering her engorged twat. She was shaking soon, and pressed her palm over my hand, to keep it pressed deep and hard inside her cunt; having cum again from my ministrations. Neither of us moved a muscle for at least a minute, until we had both caught our breath. She looked up at me, and we stared into each other's eyes. No words were necessary. The bond between us was undeniable, unbreakable. Hearts, minds and souls, as one. As perfect as the moment was, I'll admit lying like I was for so long, on a lumpy patch of the meadow, was getting uncomfortable. She made a tiny disappointed sound when I removed my hand from her pants. We both looked down. She had caught much my jizz in her hand, and my hand was soaking wet with her juices. We both started laughing. Then, like it was the most ordinary thing to do, she raised her hand to her mouth and slurped up the cum, licking her palm clean. I, in turn, licked my own hand clean. "I like how you taste." She said softly. "You taste wonderful." I replied. And she did. It wasn't like anything I'd ever tasted before, almost; sweet. Most of all, it was the taste of her, which by that fact alone, made it great. We got out of our current positions, and I laid down on my back, in a better, softer spot on the blanket. She gently laid her body down on mine. Her chest was on my belly and her thighs straddled my legs. I intertwined the fingers of one hand with one of hers, and rested my other on her hip. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the sunbeams were gone from our magical little clearing. I checked my watch and discovered that I had been asleep for at least an hour and a half. It was nearly three in the afternoon. Melissa was awake, and watching my every move. She gave me a brief kiss. "You're adorable when you're sleeping." "You didn't sleep?" She shook her head. "Watching you was way better than sleep." Even after all we had shared, I found myself blushing. She giggled. "You're adorable when you're awake too." Her giggle was contagious, I couldn't help but join her. I kissed her, and said. "We should really get going." She nodded in agreement, and her smile faded ever so slightly, which nearly broke my heart. Chapter Five. On the hike back to the cabin, there was significantly less talking. For the most part, we were both perfectly content to hold hands and enjoy the colorful autumn scenery. Every once in a while, one of us would ask something like "Favorite color?", and we would both give our answer. Her favorite color is blue, mine is red. While there were some differences in the things we liked, we found that we had much more in common, just like how we were years ago. For example, we both loved cheesy science-fiction movies, and thought that the soundtrack to "Conan The Barbarian" was just about the best soundtrack to a movie; ever. Our favorite food was pepperoni pizza, and our favorite fast food was Taco Bell. I could go on and on, but suffice to say, I had more in common with Melissa than I did with any of my guy friends. It was nearly dark, and we were about a half mile from the cabin, and just passing by a long abandoned old shack, when I had an idea. I stopped walking. A few steps up the road she stopped and faced me, confused. I stepped forward, grabbed her hand, and led her around to the back of the shack. Once safely out of sight from the road, I pulled her close and kissed her passionately. She melted into my arms. When we broke the kiss to catch our breath, I whispered. "Turn around, and lean back into me." Which she did without question. I brushed her hair aside, and started kissing her neck, soliciting a sigh of pleasure. While I did that, I cupped her tits, squeezing them gently. I could feel her nipples through her clothes, and I gave them the gentlest of pinches, which she seemed to really like. My hands moved down her flat belly, and I managed to get her pants undone very quickly. I trailed my fingertips along the lines between her hips and her groin, and I could feel her push her hips forward, desperate for my hand to reach its destination. My fingers teased her between her bald pussy lips in the ways that had got the best reaction earlier, and I was not disappointed. With great concentration, I used two of my fingers to spread her lips apart slightly, then slowly sank my middle finger into her, as deeply as I could. I started doing the thing that had made her cum twice already, today. She groaned in ecstasy. As her pleasure build towards release, I pushed a second finger inside of her cunt. Her knees went weak, and I found that between the arm around her chest holding her to me, and the hand with two fingers deep inside her, I was holding up most of her weight. In her labored breathing, she quietly gasped the word "yes." I moved my fingers in the same "come here" motion I did with just the one, being ultra-attentive to her reactions. Tiny variations in my movements yielded big results, and she came quickly, body tensing and quivering all over. As she fought to get her ragged breathing under control, she managed to whisper. "Oh my god you are good at this!" I whispered back. "I'm glad." I was glad, and damn if I wasn't proud of myself. I was not only able to make her cum, but apparently I'm able to make her do it in spectacular fashion. I made a quiet vow to myself, that I would study even the tiniest of ways her body reacted, so every time we were together like this, it would be better for her. When she could stand on her own, she turned and wrapped her arms around me in a hug, resting her head on my shoulder. She held me tightly, and didn't move. I could tell that something was different, something was; wrong? Instantly worried that I had done something to upset her, I asked as gently as I could. "What is it?" She pulled her face up and looked at me. There were tears in her eyes. He voice was sorrowful. "I don't deserve you." I wanted to say something like "Of course you do." but she cut me off before I could respond. "No, I don't deserve you. You're just so kind, and wonderful, and amazing, and the way you look at me makes my heart melt." Tears rolled down her perfect cheeks, and her voice became anguished. "And I Can't have you. No one would ever accept this." She did have a point. A point I had swept into a corner of my mind, and hidden under a rug. We were second cousins. Technically, it's perfectly legal for us to be together, and as societal taboos went, it was actually pretty low on the list. But our friends and family would absolutely, one hundred percent, not be okay with it. I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet. "I ran away from my family. Some of them are just shitty people, and I couldn't care less what they thought about me." She was almost sobbing now. "But I love your family. You mom is just the best, and your brothers and sisters, everybody... I couldn't live with what they would think of me, and I couldn't live with what they would think about you." The look of pleading in her eyes made my heart break, and I began to cry. I didn't have an answer. We had found something so special, so perfect. We got just a taste of what we could be together. To face the fact that this wonderful thing had to end, that it couldn't blossom into what we both dreamed it could be, was devastating. I rubbed her back as she cried into my shoulder. "Growing up, every time my parents would bring me up here, I would ask, is Melissa going to be there? When they'd say no, I was always so disappointed. Seeing you up here; was something that I always looked forward to." Her crying began to slow as she listened to me talk. "All of my best memories were made here, with you. When it was time to go home, I was always sad, but I had to go home. I had school and friends, a whole different life. When I'd ask my parents if you were going to be here, and they said yes, that was always the happiest I'd been since we last said goodbye." She looked at me, the crying having nearly stopped. "So, we live two lives? I don't know if we can do that." "If it's the choice between that, and nothing at all..." She nodded her head slowly. "People will find out, eventually." "We'll just have to be careful." I cupped her face in my hands. "Living without you now, is not an option." It really wasn't an option. Not after the last, what, thirty hours? Did I really fall so madly in love with this person in only a day and a half? No, of course not. This was a love that had taken a lifetime to build. We reunited after three years apart, and were now mature enough to realize what could be, and we reached for it. Now that we had both grasped it, neither of us could ever let go. We stayed behind the shack for a while, to regain our composure. It was almost fully dark out now, and starting to get chilly, so I gave Melissa one of the hoodies I had packed. She put it on gratefully, and it warmed my heart to see her smile back on her face. As we turned down the cabin's driveway, she leaned over to me and said. "Our situation is very Shakespearean. Star crossed lovers and all that." I chuckled. "Just hopefully without, you know, the poison and the dagger." To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts, for Literotica.

Cabin Cousins: Part 1 Cousins reunion: a childhood friendship becomes love. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Connections. Chapter One. It was one of those glorious mid-October days in Minnesota, where morning frost gives way to clear blue skies and temperatures warm enough for wearing tee shirts. My name is Charles, by the way, nice to meet you. Please don't call me Charlie, or Chuck or Chucky, I hate that. I work at a big box home improvement store near my home on the west side of the Twin Cities. I'm eighteen, and have spent most of the summer since graduating, being overworked and underpaid. I took Saturday, Sunday, and half of Friday off so that I could drive up and spend the weekend 'up north' at the family cabin, near Pelican Lake. Built by my great grandfather, Olaf Larson, in the early 1900's, the cabin was a place that anyone in my (quite large) extended family was free to use. The cabin itself is rather small, just a single room, adorned with a century's worth of hunting trophies and antique nick knacks. There were spaces in the woods around the cabin yard where people would park their RV's, and some nice grassy clearings for setting up tents. There was someone there on most weekends between spring and fall, and sometimes it was a pretty full house, with ten or twenty people showing up for a relaxing weekend of doing nothing. This, likely the last weekend of decent weather for the next six months or so, was going to be a busy one. I was halfway through the three hour drive, when my mom called me on my cell phone to make sure I was on my way, and if I had remembered my tent. Yes, I had remembered my tent, and yes, I remembered my sleeping bag and an extra blanket because it was going to get cold at night. Thanks, mom. Then she listed off who was there, and who else was on their way. Aunts and uncles, older brothers and sisters, relatives of every age and variety. My heart skipped a beat though, when she added as an afterthought that my cousin Melissa Olson, was there. Actually, she was my second cousin, but more importantly, she was my friend. Growing up, my weekends were occupied by exploring the woods around the cabin, fishing and swimming in the lake, or just hanging out around the fire pit chatting and telling stories. Many of those weekends, Melissa was right there at my side. I had more in common with her than with any of the male relatives close to my age, in terms of interests and personality, so often it was just the two of us. About three years back, there was some kind of family drama that I really didn't pay attention to, but as a result, the whole branch of the family that Melissa belonged to stopped showing up to family gatherings. I was fifteen at the time, and though I was really sad that I didn't get to see Melissa anymore, I was, you know, fifteen. At that age, there is so much going on in your life that, as sad as a change may be, something else always fills the gap. Once off the phone with my mom, all I could think about was Melissa. Memories of our adventures effervesced in my mind. I thought of the last time I saw her, how she smiled and said "See you next time!" with a quick hug. Through the years growing up, I never really put much thought into her appearance, but remembering that last goodbye, it dawned on me that she had always been quite pretty. At fifteen, she was only a little shorter than my own average height, and had a slim athletic build. She was always big into track and field sports at her school. What I remember most about her was her smile, carefree and easily expressed, and her eyes. She had the most beautiful icy blue eyes I had ever seen, eyes that truly were windows to her soul. Maybe it's just that I knew her so well, but with just one glance at her eyes, I could tell instantly what she was feeling, and have a pretty good idea of what she was thinking about. I wondered if it would be the same way after not seeing her for three years. She was almost exactly the same age as me, having been born in February of 1980, to my January of the same year, which means that she must have graduated high school this year too. I began imagining what she looked like now, and was only a few miles away from the cabin when I realized I had a raging erection. This, was no good. Regardless of how I was getting aroused.  The thought was of a childhood friend who was also a relative. I'll say I wasn't too proud of it, at that moment. I couldn't show up to a family gathering like this. I turned off onto a forestry road that I knew well, and piloted my pickup down one of the narrow overgrown logging trails that deer hunters use, to get to their stands. I've been down all of these trails, and know a hundred places that are perfect for when someone needs a little "alone time". I parked my truck and listened for a minute, just to be sure there wasn't anyone else driving around nearby. Still in the driver's seat, I unbuttoned my fly, and pulled my pants down to my ankles. I wrapped a hand around my cock and sighed with the pleasure of immanent release. Normally I would spunk to fantasies involving girls from high school, or one of the models from the couple of nudie mags I had hidden under my mattress at home. But right then, all I could imagine was Melissa, and my mental image of what she looked like now. I stroked furiously, and felt myself quickly building to orgasm. I hastily rummaged in the door pocket for a napkin with my left hand, found one, and barely had enough time to get it into place before I erupted. I groaned as I came, sending spurt after spurt of cum into the napkin, which wasn't up to the task of containing such a massive load. I sat there for a while, breathing hard, and feeling the cum that had soaked through the napkin ooze onto the palm of my left hand. It had been a while since I had cum that hard or that quickly. As the glow of orgasm faded, I started thinking that it wasn't right to get off like this to Melissa, but I knew I would have been a liar; if I said I wouldn't do it again. I cleaned up as best as I could with a few more napkins, got my pants back up, and checked myself in the vanity mirror just in case there was some glaring evidence that I had just jerked off. Satisfied that I looked normal, I arranged myself in my underwear so that if and when I got another boner, it would at least be pointing down, and not straight out for all of the family to see. I arrived at the cabin a few minutes later. People were spread out, around the yard; reading books, getting fishing equipment ready, or tending the fire in the stone fire pit. I was greeted with waves and hellos; nothing very enthusiastic. I mean, I do see most of these people pretty regularly. And honestly, I wasn't overly excited to see them either. I was however, very excited to see Melissa again, but looking around the yard, I didn't spot her anywhere. Then I heard the sharp crack sound that the cabin's screen door makes when someone lets it's spring slams itself shut. I looked over, and saw Melissa walking around the corner of the cabin. I hope no one saw my jaw drop, because she was gorgeous. She was barefoot, her long athletic legs disappearing beneath a knee-length flower pattern sun dress that flowed around her as she strode. Her hair was longer that she used to have it, and it trailed gracefully behind her, it's sandy blonde color glowing in the sunlight. When she noticed me, her face lit up. The warmth of her smile could have melted a glacier. "Charles!" She squealed. She ran across the yard and practically threw herself into my arms, hugging me tight. I hugged her back, just as tight. "Oh my God, it's so good to see you!" She said, laughing with joy. I don't think anyone had ever been so excited to see me in my entire life, and it felt a bit awkward, but I felt the same about her, so I just went with it. "It's great to see you too." I said. We broke off our hug, but she kept an arm around my back. She started moving towards the cabin, and I went with, putting an arm across her shoulders. "It's been over three years," She said excitedly. "We have so much to catch up on!" I craned my neck up to try and look down on her. "I see you're still a little bit shorter than me?" She poked me in the belly and said with mock sternness. "You're wearing boots. Take them off and we're the same height." Be both laughed, and I was struck again at how beautiful she was. Even her laugh was like music. As we walked, my eyes strayed to her chest, where the slightest bit of a lacy white bra could be seen under the edge of her dress. Her tits were, for lack of a better word, perfect. They weren't large, a B cup I imagined, as if I knew anything about the particulars of tit size. What they were though, were proportionate. They were just the right size and shape for her. I was starting to imagine what they would look like free from any clothes, and must have spent just a few too many seconds looking. Something made me look up at her face, and I saw her watching me with a funny little smile. Our eyes locked, and I was surprised to not only see a lack of offence there, but for all I could tell, she was pleased that I was ogling her. She looked away with a satisfied smile, and gave me a little squeeze with the arm that was still around my back. "Your mom is almost done with dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Chapter Two. My mom fried up walleye that my older brothers had caught earlier that day, and we all ate more than we should have, but man, nothing is better than pan-fried walleye that was in the lake just a few hours prior. After dinner, when everyone was just lounging around and catching up on gossip, I got my tent out of the bed of my pickup, and started walking towards the farthest away clearing to set it up in. Melissa called out to me. "Can you set mine up too?" "Sure." I called back. "Where do you want it?" "Next to yours is fine. I promise I don't snore too loud." She replied, which got some laughs. I set up the tents, and went back, claiming a spot on one of the benches near the fire. Melissa had changed out of her dress into some loose-fitting jeans and a blue tee shirt. She was in the process of explaining what she had been up to recently. She had moved out of her parent's house in Duluth back in February, on her eighteenth birthday. She didn't have a place to stay yet, so she spent a few weeks living in her car, a beat up old Toyota Camry, before one of her friend's parents took pity on her, and let her stay with them until she got her own place. Now, if you know anything about being in Duluth, Minnesota in February, you can imagine how much that sucked. My heart ached in empathy for her, and I actually teared up a little. Thankfully the wind was shifting around, so I could pass it off as just getting smoke in my eyes. Melissa continued her story, about how the people who had taken her in offered her a part time job to work as a cashier in their store. She worked evenings and weekends until she graduated high school; at which point she got a small apartment south of town. She still worked at their shop, but now pretty much ran the place, which the owners were ecstatic about, because it finally gave them the opportunity to do some traveling. As I listened, I became more and more in awe of Melissa. Let's use me as an example to compare and contrast. I'm of average height for a guy, with an average build. Melissa is slightly above average height for a girl, with a fit and toned body. My face isn't particularly handsome. Again, very average. She has the heart-shaped face of an angel. I live at home with my parents. I don't pay rent. I have an okay job, but what money I make, I tend to spend frivolously. She has her own apartment, a good job, and is saving her own money to go to college next year. I couldn't do anything but watch her as she talked. I noticed tiny details that I never even thought to look for on anyone else; How her neck moved when she talked, how she flipped her head to get her hair out of her face, how every time our eyes met, her smile would get just a little bit wider. I felt utterly unworthy to be in the presence of such a glorious creature. As the night went on, people went off to their beds in their campers and tents, or one of the four beds in the cabin and its three season porch. Eventually it was just me and Melissa. She came over and sat in the old metal glider bench seat, right next to me, resting her head on my shoulder and gazing into the glowing remnants of the fire. "I've missed coming here." She said quietly. "It's so peaceful." "I missed you." I replied. She looked up at me and smiled. "I've missed you too." For a long time we sat there in silence just staring at the red and orange coals. Eventually they were dying away, and we began to see our breath in the increasingly chilly air. Melissa yawned. Even the way she did that, was beautiful to me. "I think it's time for bed." I whispered to her. She nodded in agreement, and I walked with her to where our tents were. She gave me a tired hug, said goodnight, and went into her tent. I entered my own tent, stripped down to my underwear, (I always sleep in just my boxer briefs,) and crawled into my sleeping bag. It was one of those big flannel old-school ones, not one of those small mummy bags. It had enough room inside for me to really sprawl out, and was plenty warm enough for camping in just about any kind of weather. I'm pretty sure I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I awoke to a rustling in the leaves outside my tent. It was too heavy to be from raccoons. My first thought was that it was a black bear, as it wasn't unusual for a black bear to wonder through the cabin yard. But when I heard the zipper to the tent flap, I was reassured. I was confused though, as to who would be coming into my tent in the middle of the night. The flap opened, and I saw a silhouette, blond hair glowing silver in the moonlight. My heart instantly started racing. Was I dreaming? Melissa was sneaking into my tent! With the moonlight coming through the open tent flap, she could see that I was awake. "I'm c-cold." She whispered. Without thinking, I opened up my sleeping bag. "Come on." I whispered. She crawled into the tent, zipping up the flap behind her, then scrambled into my sleeping bag with me, still fully dressed. She was freezing. I pulled her in tight to me, spooning her from behind, and wrapping one arm under her neck, the other one over her, and wrapping around her waist. I even had one leg over her thigh. I explained it was to transfer body heat as quickly as I could. Her shivering eventually subsided. As she drifted off to sleep, she said in a barely audible whisper. "I hate the cold." While her breathing reduced to long, slow, deep breaths; I laid there thinking about just how much I loved this moment with Melissa. I've had a few girlfriends, but none of them were very serious. Even though I thought I loved them, I now knew that I had no idea of what love was. Until this moment. As I watched Melissa sleep, I realized that I loved her, truly and deeply. I nestled my face against the back of her neck, breathing in the herbal smell of her. I fell back asleep with joy in my heart. When I awoke again, it was just getting to be light out, and the first birds were beginning to sing. I looked at Melissa, still wrapped in my arms, and sleeping with an expression of serene contentment. It was at this time that my body caught on to the fact that it was pressed up against a very beautiful female, and I started to get worried that the rock hard penis pressing into Melissa's lower back would wake her up. I don't know if it was because of that, but she did wake up before too long. She shifted and stretched, before slightly rotating her back so she was nestling back against me. "What happened last night?" I asked with my arm on my hip. "Don't you have a sleeping bag?" "I do, I got it at Goodwill, so it was cheap, but it's not very good." "Well, I have a blanket you can use, and I'm pretty sure there's extra bedding in the cabin." She sighed contentedly and pulled my arm back around her waist. "Or; I could sleep here again tonight?" "Or you could sleep here tonight." I replied. After a little while she said. "You're warm." And hard, I thought. There was no way she didn't know. I yearned to kiss her. I yearned to grab her hips and grind my cock against her. I wanted to explore her whole body with my hands. I wanted her to put her hands on me. But I was terrified of doing anything, even suggesting anything that she didn't want. I was torn, because I was pretty sure that she did want something. The looks she gave me the previous day, the little smiles, and now snuggling up against me and my hard cock, all screamed in my head to do something, anything! I was just about to slide my hand down to her hip when she announced. "I have to pee." As she was leaving my tent, she turned back and gave me a small kiss on the cheek, a quick smile, then was gone. It took a while for my hard-on to subside, but once it did, I got dressed and went outside. Chapter Three. With a slight detour through the trees, (being a guy has some advantages, the whole forest is my urinal.) I joined the family in the cabin yard. One of my uncles was making eggs and bacon on a grill top griddle, and everyone else was in a different state of waking up. My mom asked Melissa and me, if we were warm enough in our tents last night, and informed us that there were extra blankets. I said that I was fine. Melissa cheerily replied that she was toasty warm, and I had to look away to avoid being seen smiling like an idiot. Even though nothing happened, it still wouldn't look good for the whole family to know that I was spooning my cousin all night. After breakfast, it seemed like everyone but Melissa and I, had plans to do things during the day. Some were going fishing, some were going into Pine River, Breezy Point, and Nisswa, to shop the antique stores and other shops. Melissa looked at me with that smile that somehow was more than just an innocent smile. "So, what do you want to do today?" She asked me. "We could go for a hike. Find some of the trails we used to know?" Her face lit up. "Yes! Let's go find Pine Grove Cathedral! We could bring lunch and make a picnic out of it, too!" "So, what do you want to eat for lunch?" "I don't know, what do you want to eat for lunch?" She said mockingly, then laughed. "Oh, no, I don't play that game. I know what I like to eat, so I'll get the lunch together." She hopped up from the camp chair she was sitting in, and skipped to the cabin. Like, actually skipped. It was adorable. Though, how her ass moved in her jeans as she went, was an even better sight. I stuffed an old quilt into a backpack, then after a moment's thought, crammed in two hoodies. It might get cold earlier tonight, I was not going to let Melissa be cold if there was anything I could do about it. Soon we were walking side by side along the dirt road that lead past the cabin. From there we cut along an ATV trail to one of the State forestry roads, heading deep into the woods where there weren't any other cabins. We chatted as we walked, about music and school, and a host of other mundane things. It really didn't matter to me what we talked about. At some point we started holding hands, and it seemed like the most wonderful, natural thing ever. I began to notice that, unlike literally every other conversation I had ever had, with anyone my age, Melissa was being absolutely honest and forthright. Like an open book, she wasn't hiding anything, so I made a conscious decision to do the same for her. When the conversation came to the topic of previous relationships, I told her about some embarrassing things that happened to me when I was with my first girlfriend. Things that I had sworn to myself to never speak of again. She laughed, but with me, not at me, and countered with an even more embarrassing story from her past. It was surreal. We shared what our thoughts and feelings were, when we had been in particularly awkward situations. We told each other our fears and insecurities. It felt so good to lay my most personal self out before her, and be accepted as who I am. And to have her do the same, well, it was by far the most amazing experience of my life, so far. We had wondered down miles of ever smaller dirt roads, until the two dirt tracks on a grassy path ended in a clearing, marking the farthest someone could go in a car. There were a couple of footpaths that led away from here, and I had to search a bit through the overgrown brush to find the one I wanted. At one time the path was a logging road, but all traces of that were long gone. Back in the twenties, or even before, this whole area had been clear cut. Most of the existing forest had grown up naturally from that, but there were some places that had been replanted, then forgotten about. The path led us up a hillside, thick with huge Oaks, and Elms, and Maples, leaves ablaze in oranges, reds, and yellows, in dazzling and vivid variety. When we neared the top of the hill, we looked at each other and smiled. The place up ahead was our favorite place in all of the this forest. We weren't ever officially allowed to go this far on our own, which had made it all the more special. Cresting the hill, the forest changed. Gone were the leafy hardwoods, in their place were endless evenly spaced rows of towering Red Pines. For as far as we could see in every direction, arrow-straight trunks rose to the sky. Far above, their branches intertwined, lush needles blocking any but the barest glimpse of the sky. Even though we were grown up, this place still had that awe-inspiring sense of hugeness. Our talking stopped as we were struck with a sense of reverence for this magical place. In silence, we walked down the row for a while, then cut across the rows towards a patch of sunlight in the distance. It was a clear space where a storm, long before our time, had blown down some trees, which had then been scavenged for firewood. I was pleased to see that it wasn't overgrown with trees, but had remained a perfect little grassy meadow, nestled inside a living cathedral. We walked out into the middle, and looked around. Melissa spoke softly. "Nothing from my childhood is ever as good as I remember it, but this.." She trailed off. "Is better." I added, watching her closely. "So much better." She agreed, turning in a circle to take it all in. She stopped, facing me. "Are you hungry?" I asked. She gave me that funny little smile, and when her blue eyes met my green ones, it finally clicked. The whole time since our reunion, every time she looked at me, the same emotion, the same desire, was there to see in her eyes, clear as day. When she responded with "I'm starving," I knew she didn't just mean that she was hungry for the sandwiches she had in her backpack. But, then again, we had just walked almost ten miles through the woods. So, when she started digging out the aforementioned sandwiches, I wasn't completely disappointed. Chapter Four. I spread out the old quilt I had packed, and we sat cross legged facing each other, close enough for our knees to be touching. We talked as we ate, and laughed at the occasional burp, or dribble of jelly from our p b and j sandwiches, that were gone in short order. We had talked about some pretty personal things today, but what she asked next, kinda caught me off guard. "How often do guys jerk off?" Without trepidation I replied. "I jerk off at least once a day, usually before bed. I think I'm pretty normal as guys go, so... yeah." "So, do you just, Could you do it more if you wanted to?" She asked, looking genuinely curious. "Yeah, I guess. There's usually tons of times during the day that I could do it if I had the time and the privacy." "Could you do it any time you want, like, do you need to get in the mood?" I laughed. "Guys don't need much to get in the mood. Like really, it doesn't take much at all to get me hard, and then I'm ready to go, if I wanted to. It's actually pretty annoying. What about you, girls I mean?" "Oh, I'm horny All the time. For the longest time, I thought I was some kind of sexual pervert, until one of my girlfriends said she was the same way." Subconsciously conjuring a few mental images, and out of my own curiosity, I asked. "How often do you?" "Every morning. Every night. Usually once during the day." She stated matter-of-factually. "Wow." I said, then after a slightly awkward pause. "Are you right now?" "All. The. Time." She said, staring into my eyes. "Especially right now." "Me too" I said softly. She glanced quickly down to the bulge in my pants, then returned her eyes to mine. "I noticed." Her voice was almost a whisper. She leaned in a little closer to me. "Have you, since you got here yesterday?" "I did on the way up, to avoid any, you know, embarrassment that might pop up, but not since. You?" She shook her head in the negative, and moved closer. Her face was right in front of mine. I studied the intricate detail of her irises, and by the way they moved, I could tell she was studying mine. Our lips were so close to touching, I could feel the heat of her quick and shallow breath on my face. I summoned the courage to make the actual first move. She made a tiny inaudible gasp as my hand brushed the underside of her jawline, and slid along her neck under her ear. I let my fingers sift their way into her silky hair, and gently cupped the back of her head. As I pulled her towards me, her lips parted to meet mine. My tongue found hers, and we both made a humming moan of pleasure, as we began kissing. Slowly at first, tentative and gentle, but soon becoming more urgent and intense. We were like two starving people, set before a lavish buffet. After the first few bites, the body remembers what it needs most, and ravenous hunger takes control. After what seemed like forever, and no time at all, we parted, breathing heavy and licking saliva off of slightly numb lips. The look in her eyes, was subtly different now. The need was still there, without a doubt, but now I could see so much more. A tiny change in the way she was looking at me, or perhaps just a change of how I was seeing her, and it was as if her eyes were screaming "I love you!" I hoped she could see my love for her, in my eyes. She moved back in quickly, and our kissing resumed. This time it remained slow and passionate, and was all the sweeter for it. Our hands began roving over each other's body, from neck to back, to hips, to chest, and every curve and line between. I cupped her firm tits and gave them slight squeeze, making her moan into my mouth. She caressed my cheeks with her palms, then slowly trailed her hands down, down, down, until she found my belt. She fumbled around a little, trying to get it unbuckled, so I reached down and helped. That done, she wasted no time in undoing the top button of my button fly jeans. With the first one free, she pulled to the sides, and the rest popped open in a string. We had stopped kissing, as what was going on required a little bit more concentration than we would have been able to give. I shifted a little to make it easier for her to tug on my underwear, and send a hand down inside. I gasped as she closed her hand around my Very erect cock, and pulled it up into the open. Realizing I was behind in the undoing-of-pants race, I went for her waist, only to find her jeans already open. Sneaky girl. She must have done her own before mine. I laid beside her, the two of us on our sides, facing each other. I slid a hand inside her pale blue panties, and was surprised to find that she had shaved her pubic hair. Not that it's anything strange or unusual, I just wasn't expecting it. I liked it. I went farther down, and when my fingers slid down along her labia, she shuddered. Breathing hard now, she pressed her cheek against mine, then started sliding her hand up and down my shaft. She was doing it very differently than I do it, naturally; and I had been a little anxious that she wouldn't know how to do it right. Well, she didn't. But that didn't matter, because it still felt amazing. I slid my middle finger into the wet hotness between her pussy lips, moving it slowly through and back. I varied the motion a little bit, here and there, being mindful of how her body responded. When I would do something, and she would gasp in pleasure, I did more of that. Remembering something I read in a magazine, yes I read the articles too, I moved my hand a little farther down and found the opening to her hole with my middle finger. I slowly pushed it inside of her. She moaned loudly, and rested her head on my shoulder. I moved my free hand to the back of her head, holding her against me. She had stopped stroking me, but I didn't care. She laid flat on her back and surrendered to my overture. I wanted to make her cum. I needed, to make her cum. I began moving my finger in and out of her, massaging the inside of her, with a "come here" motion, just like the article said to do. She was moaning with every breath now, and she started rocking her hips in time with my finger. Her moans got louder and louder, every breath quicker than the last. I moved my finger a little quicker, with a little more pressure. Finally, she took one last deep breath and held it in. Her whole body was quivering, and I could feel her pussy spasm tightly around my finger. She let out her breath as a long sigh. She raised her head and rolled to look at me with complete satisfaction. Cupping my face with her hand, she kissed me. Remembering that she had neglected my needs, she pulled back a little and started to say; "I'm sorry", but I stopped her with a finger to her lips. I kissed her, and as I did, I felt both of her hands wrap around my cock. She must have read an article or two, herself, because what she did, felt wonderful. She sat up and rolled me onto my back. She moved her hands in unison, up and down, gripping firmly, but not too hard. She added a slight twist to the hand that went over the head of my cock, and it was my turn to start moaning. She laid down by me, her head on my shoulder as I took her into my embrace. She looked down to watch what she was doing to me, and I kissed her forehead, before beginning to pant into her hair She kept stroking me, and I could feel my own orgasm build. This wasn't a quick jerk and spurt, like I'm usually satisfied with. No, this was different. This orgasm was building like an avalanche, powerful and unstoppable. I was distinctly aware that I was ever closer to climax, I could tell that she was excited to have this opportunity. Release was immanent, and I managed to gasp "I'm going to cum". The avalanche roared through me, and I shuddered as I felt spurt after spurt of cum shoot through my cock. My geyser shot up and slightly off to my side, where in landed somewhere in the patchwork quilt. Melissa sat up and witnessed the 3 following ‘aftershocks'.  My hand was back in her panties, finger again inside her, so I went back to work. I felt her body respond to my renewed attentions, quickly re-attaining that urgent build to climax. She moved back down to my embrace, and I used my free hand to keep fingering her engorged twat. She was shaking soon, and pressed her palm over my hand, to keep it pressed deep and hard inside her cunt; having cum again from my ministrations. Neither of us moved a muscle for at least a minute, until we had both caught our breath. She looked up at me, and we stared into each other's eyes. No words were necessary. The bond between us was undeniable, unbreakable. Hearts, minds and souls, as one. As perfect as the moment was, I'll admit lying like I was for so long, on a lumpy patch of the meadow, was getting uncomfortable. She made a tiny disappointed sound when I removed my hand from her pants. We both looked down. She had caught much my jizz in her hand, and my hand was soaking wet with her juices. We both started laughing. Then, like it was the most ordinary thing to do, she raised her hand to her mouth and slurped up the cum, licking her palm clean. I, in turn, licked my own hand clean. "I like how you taste." She said softly. "You taste wonderful." I replied. And she did. It wasn't like anything I'd ever tasted before, almost; sweet. Most of all, it was the taste of her, which by that fact alone, made it great. We got out of our current positions, and I laid down on my back, in a better, softer spot on the blanket. She gently laid her body down on mine. Her chest was on my belly and her thighs straddled my legs. I intertwined the fingers of one hand with one of hers, and rested my other on her hip. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, the sunbeams were gone from our magical little clearing. I checked my watch and discovered that I had been asleep for at least an hour and a half. It was nearly three in the afternoon. Melissa was awake, and watching my every move. She gave me a brief kiss. "You're adorable when you're sleeping." "You didn't sleep?" She shook her head. "Watching you was way better than sleep." Even after all we had shared, I found myself blushing. She giggled. "You're adorable when you're awake too." Her giggle was contagious, I couldn't help but join her. I kissed her, and said. "We should really get going." She nodded in agreement, and her smile faded ever so slightly, which nearly broke my heart. Chapter Five. On the hike back to the cabin, there was significantly less talking. For the most part, we were both perfectly content to hold hands and enjoy the colorful autumn scenery. Every once in a while, one of us would ask something like "Favorite color?", and we would both give our answer. Her favorite color is blue, mine is red. While there were some differences in the things we liked, we found that we had much more in common, just like how we were years ago. For example, we both loved cheesy science-fiction movies, and thought that the soundtrack to "Conan The Barbarian" was just about the best soundtrack to a movie; ever. Our favorite food was pepperoni pizza, and our favorite fast food was Taco Bell. I could go on and on, but suffice to say, I had more in common with Melissa than I did with any of my guy friends. It was nearly dark, and we were about a half mile from the cabin, and just passing by a long abandoned old shack, when I had an idea. I stopped walking. A few steps up the road she stopped and faced me, confused. I stepped forward, grabbed her hand, and led her around to the back of the shack. Once safely out of sight from the road, I pulled her close and kissed her passionately. She melted into my arms. When we broke the kiss to catch our breath, I whispered. "Turn around, and lean back into me." Which she did without question. I brushed her hair aside, and started kissing her neck, soliciting a sigh of pleasure. While I did that, I cupped her tits, squeezing them gently. I could feel her nipples through her clothes, and I gave them the gentlest of pinches, which she seemed to really like. My hands moved down her flat belly, and I managed to get her pants undone very quickly. I trailed my fingertips along the lines between her hips and her groin, and I could feel her push her hips forward, desperate for my hand to reach its destination. My fingers teased her between her bald pussy lips in the ways that had got the best reaction earlier, and I was not disappointed. With great concentration, I used two of my fingers to spread her lips apart slightly, then slowly sank my middle finger into her, as deeply as I could. I started doing the thing that had made her cum twice already, today. She groaned in ecstasy. As her pleasure build towards release, I pushed a second finger inside of her cunt. Her knees went weak, and I found that between the arm around her chest holding her to me, and the hand with two fingers deep inside her, I was holding up most of her weight. In her labored breathing, she quietly gasped the word "yes." I moved my fingers in the same "come here" motion I did with just the one, being ultra-attentive to her reactions. Tiny variations in my movements yielded big results, and she came quickly, body tensing and quivering all over. As she fought to get her ragged breathing under control, she managed to whisper. "Oh my god you are good at this!" I whispered back. "I'm glad." I was glad, and damn if I wasn't proud of myself. I was not only able to make her cum, but apparently I'm able to make her do it in spectacular fashion. I made a quiet vow to myself, that I would study even the tiniest of ways her body reacted, so every time we were together like this, it would be better for her. When she could stand on her own, she turned and wrapped her arms around me in a hug, resting her head on my shoulder. She held me tightly, and didn't move. I could tell that something was different, something was; wrong? Instantly worried that I had done something to upset her, I asked as gently as I could. "What is it?" She pulled her face up and looked at me. There were tears in her eyes. He voice was sorrowful. "I don't deserve you." I wanted to say something like "Of course you do." but she cut me off before I could respond. "No, I don't deserve you. You're just so kind, and wonderful, and amazing, and the way you look at me makes my heart melt." Tears rolled down her perfect cheeks, and her voice became anguished. "And I Can't have you. No one would ever accept this." She did have a point. A point I had swept into a corner of my mind, and hidden under a rug. We were second cousins. Technically, it's perfectly legal for us to be together, and as societal taboos went, it was actually pretty low on the list. But our friends and family would absolutely, one hundred percent, not be okay with it. I didn't know what to say, so I stayed quiet. "I ran away from my family. Some of them are just shitty people, and I couldn't care less what they thought about me." She was almost sobbing now. "But I love your family. You mom is just the best, and your brothers and sisters, everybody... I couldn't live with what they would think of me, and I couldn't live with what they would think about you." The look of pleading in her eyes made my heart break, and I began to cry. I didn't have an answer. We had found something so special, so perfect. We got just a taste of what we could be together. To face the fact that this wonderful thing had to end, that it couldn't blossom into what we both dreamed it could be, was devastating. I rubbed her back as she cried into my shoulder. "Growing up, every time my parents would bring me up here, I would ask, is Melissa going to be there? When they'd say no, I was always so disappointed. Seeing you up here; was something that I always looked forward to." Her crying began to slow as she listened to me talk. "All of my best memories were made here, with you. When it was time to go home, I was always sad, but I had to go home. I had school and friends, a whole different life. When I'd ask my parents if you were going to be here, and they said yes, that was always the happiest I'd been since we last said goodbye." She looked at me, the crying having nearly stopped. "So, we live two lives? I don't know if we can do that." "If it's the choice between that, and nothing at all..." She nodded her head slowly. "People will find out, eventually." "We'll just have to be careful." I cupped her face in my hands. "Living without you now, is not an option." It really wasn't an option. Not after the last, what, thirty hours? Did I really fall so madly in love with this person in only a day and a half? No, of course not. This was a love that had taken a lifetime to build. We reunited after three years apart, and were now mature enough to realize what could be, and we reached for it. Now that we had both grasped it, neither of us could ever let go. We stayed behind the shack for a while, to regain our composure. It was almost fully dark out now, and starting to get chilly, so I gave Melissa one of the hoodies I had packed. She put it on gratefully, and it warmed my heart to see her smile back on her face. As we turned down the cabin's driveway, she leaned over to me and said. "Our situation is very Shakespearean. Star crossed lovers and all that." I chuckled. "Just hopefully without, you know, the poison and the dagger." To be continued in part 2. Based on a post by NewMountain80, in 6 parts, for Literotica.

We're back in CLASSIC ERIC ROBERTS era with the darkly comedic romantic drama NOBODY'S FOOL from 1986 featuring Rosanna Arquette as a quirky, traumatized waitress who finds her life turned upside-down when a troupe of Shakespearean actors arrive in her small Arizona town, including a handsome, equally messed up stagehand played by - wait for it - ERIC ROBERTS. There's plenty of odd charm, thanks to a strong script from Pulitzer Prize-winner Beth Henley, and a great supporting cast including Mare Winningham, Louise Fletcher and Stephen Tobolowsky! We're joined by NOBODY'S FOOL superfan Dan Gorman, making his long-awaited return, and the show is JAM-PACKED with the latest Eric Roberts news. ENJOY! The post Episode 295 – Eric Roberts is the Man – Nobody's Fool (1986) (/w Dan Gorman) first appeared on Cinema Smorgasbord.

One of the greatest American movie trilogies has been right under our eyes for decades. Francis Ford Coppola's & team's The Godfather Parts 1, 2, and 3 form one of the most impressive three part movie projects ever attempted. It's easy to overlook this since The Godfather 3 came out 16 years after The Godfather 2 and is not considered at the same level as the first two movies. And yet, despite its definite shortcomings, The Godfather 3 is still one of the best movies of the 1990's and a fascinating and FITTING conclusion to the tragedy of Michael Corleone. Secret Movie Club founder.programmer Craig Hammill looks at what it took to make the three movies (it was always a fight) and how they fit together to form one of the few great Shakespearean level tragedies of American cinema. 

Avis Kalfsbeek takes a pause between series for a meditation on grief, war, and liberative compassion. She shares that she does a monthly creative project in her mini, free Shakespeare Sherpa Club (link below). As part of my monthly Shakespeare Sherpa project, I turn toward poetry and performance as a quiet ritual of peace. Today, that takes the form of two voices in deep lament: Constance, from King John by William Shakespeare (Act 3, Scene 4), a mother devastated by the imprisonment of her son. Edna St. Vincent Millay, in her haunting poem Dirge Without Music, refusing to soften the sorrow of death. In this episode, I also briefly reflect on a teaching from Ram Dass (Ep. 283 of Be Here Now) and the difference between righteous helping and liberative helping. Can we mourn and still be spiritually free? Can we serve peace while holding the full weight of what we feel? Awkward Alert: I read Shakespeare not because I am a Shakespearean actor, or ever plan to be, but because this is my podcast and I can. As such, I remind listeners of the fast forward button. Peace and love, Avis Texts Featured: King John, Act 3, Scene 4 – William Shakespeare Dirge Without Music – Edna St. Vincent Millay Shakespeare Sherpa Club (free): AvisKalfsbeek.com/ShakespeareSherpa Follow my Kickstarter: AvisKalfsbeek.com/Kickstarter Get the books: aviskalfsbeek.com Music: “Dalai Llama Rides a Bike” by Javier “Peke” Rodriguez • Bandcamp: javierpekerodriguez.bandcamp.com • Spotify: Javier “Peke” Rodriguez

In our chat, we cover everything from the sacred duty of picking terrible game night music to the Olympic sport of treating red lights like polite suggestions. We swap Botox horror stories that double as “Guess Who?” games, laugh at language quirks that make menus sound like dares, and wonder how comedy evolved from Shakespearean insults to TikTok dances. We debate the etiquette of roundabouts (are they traffic circles or friendship tests?) and the subtle art of waving at other drivers in ways that say “sorry,” “thank you,” and “may your tires fall off” all at once. From the chaos of comedic timing to the nerdy beauty of wordplay and Venn diagrams, we zigzag through nostalgia—game shows, puppets, and all the stuff that scarred us in delightful ways. Music gets dragged in as the culprit for cultural brainwashing, while we ponder why every generation thinks they invented sarcasm. We even dissect the tragic fate of ice-breaking jokes (spoiler: they drown), the kamikaze nature of stand-up comedy, and the eternal truth that no punchline is safe once caffeine kicks in. All in all, it’s like a rollercoaster ride—except nobody’s tall enough for the “you must be this funny to ride” sign.

In our chat, we cover everything from the sacred duty of picking terrible game night music to the Olympic sport of treating red lights like polite suggestions. We swap Botox horror stories that double as “Guess Who?” games, laugh at language quirks that make menus sound like dares, and wonder how comedy evolved from Shakespearean insults to TikTok dances. We debate the etiquette of roundabouts (are they traffic circles or friendship tests?) and the subtle art of waving at other drivers in ways that say “sorry,” “thank you,” and “may your tires fall off” all at once. From the chaos of comedic timing to the nerdy beauty of wordplay and Venn diagrams, we zigzag through nostalgia—game shows, puppets, and all the stuff that scarred us in delightful ways. Music gets dragged in as the culprit for cultural brainwashing, while we ponder why every generation thinks they invented sarcasm. We even dissect the tragic fate of ice-breaking jokes (spoiler: they drown), the kamikaze nature of stand-up comedy, and the eternal truth that no punchline is safe once caffeine kicks in. All in all, it’s like a rollercoaster ride—except nobody’s tall enough for the “you must be this funny to ride” sign.

"What happens when you drop a cerebral comedian into the most iconic sports broadcast in America?" In this wildly entertaining and nostalgia-packed episode of The Ben and Skin Show, hosts Jeff “Skin” Wade, Kevin “KT” Turner, and Krystina Ray (with Ben Rogers still out sick) revisit one of the strangest and most controversial experiments in sports broadcasting history: Dennis Miller joining the Monday Night Football booth. From obscure jazz drummer references to Shakespearean rants during Tom Brady's first preseason game, Miller's stint in the booth was either genius or madness—depending on who you ask. The crew breaks down the cultural moment, the behind-the-scenes drama, and the ripple effects that followed. 

In our chat, we cover everything from the sacred duty of picking terrible game night music to the Olympic sport of treating red lights like polite suggestions. We swap Botox horror stories that double as “Guess Who?” games, laugh at language quirks that make menus sound like dares, and wonder how comedy evolved from Shakespearean insults to TikTok dances. We debate the etiquette of roundabouts (are they traffic circles or friendship tests?) and the subtle art of waving at other drivers in ways that say “sorry,” “thank you,” and “may your tires fall off” all at once. From the chaos of comedic timing to the nerdy beauty of wordplay and Venn diagrams, we zigzag through nostalgia—game shows, puppets, and all the stuff that scarred us in delightful ways. Music gets dragged in as the culprit for cultural brainwashing, while we ponder why every generation thinks they invented sarcasm. We even dissect the tragic fate of ice-breaking jokes (spoiler: they drown), the kamikaze nature of stand-up comedy, and the eternal truth that no punchline is safe once caffeine kicks in. All in all, it’s like a rollercoaster ride—except nobody’s tall enough for the “you must be this funny to ride” sign.

Taylor Swift's twelfth album has sparked endless speculation about who each song is "really about," but that might be the wrong question entirely. The Life of a Showgirl isn't biography, it's polyphonic auto-fiction, where Swift writes from multiple character perspectives while blurring the lines between autobiography and theatrical performance. The album's "showgirl sound" traces from Shakespearean tragedy (Ophelia's drowning rewritten as salvation) through Golden Age Hollywood orchestration to contemporary pop production with Max Martin and Shellback. Unusual musical choices like the jarring five-measure phrase in "Fate of Ophelia" reinforce the album's central theme: the tension between public performance and private reality. By treating the album as a theatrical show rather than a celebrity tell-all, listeners can finally hear what Swift is actually saying… or can they? Taylor Swift "Love Story" Taylor Swift "Blank Space" Taylor Swift "The Fate of Ophelia" Taylor Swift "Elizabeth Taylor" Irving Berlin "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody" Fred Astaire "Puttin' on the Ritz" Taylor Swift "Opalite" George Michael "Father Figure" Taylor Swift "Father Figure" Taylor Swift "Eldest Daughter" Taylor Swift "Tim McGraw" Taylor Swift "Ruined the Friendship" Weezer "Beverly Hills" Pixies "Where Is My Mind" Charli XCX "Sympathy Is a Knife" Charli XCX "Everything Is Romantic" Taylor Swift "Actually Romantic" Mean Girls "Meet the Plastics" Taylor Swift "Wi$h Li$t" Stevie Wonder "Superstition" The Jackson 5 "I Want You Back" Taylor Swift "Wood" Nirvana "Lithium" Nirvana "Something in the Way" Taylor Swift "Canceled" Taylor Swift "Honey" Taylor Swift feat. Sabrina Carpenter "Life of a Showgirl" Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Shakespeare's plays are filled with unforgettable women—but too often, their voices are cut short. Ophelia never gets to defend herself. Gertrude never explains her choices. Lady Anne surrenders to Richard III in silence. In her new book, She Speaks: What Shakespeare's Women Might Have Said, acclaimed actor Dame Harriet Walter imagines what those characters might tell us if given the chance. Through original poems, Walter reimagines moments of silence, expands on fleeting lines, and provides depth to women who were left without a final word. Walter invites us to see Shakespeare's plays in a new light—reconsidering how we understand his female characters, and how their voices might transform the stories we thought we knew. From the Shakespeare Unlimited podcast. Published October 7, 2025. © Folger Shakespeare Library. All rights reserved. This episode was produced by Matt Frassica. Garland Scott is the executive producer. It was edited by Gail Kern Paster. We had help with web production from Paola García Acuña. Leonor Fernandez edits our transcripts. Final mixing services are provided by Clean Cuts at Three Seas, Inc. Dame Harriet Walter, DBE, is one of Britain's most esteemed Shakespearean actors, whose roles include Ophelia, Viola, Lady Macbeth, Cleopatra, Brutus, King Henry IV, and Prospero, among others.. She has received a Laurence Olivier Award, as well as numerous nominations, including a Tony Award nomination, three Primetime Emmy Awards, and a Screen Actors Guild Award. Walter is also well-known for her appearances in Sense and Sensibility, Atonement, Downton Abbey, The Crown, Succession, Killing Eve, and Ted Lasso, among many other notable projects. In 2011, she was appointed Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire (DBE) for services to drama.

Cycling enthusiast Emily J. Carnacki's tales of group bike rides through Slumberland's woods, befriending Vestigula Uridium, and channeling Shakespearean dialogue from atop an ancient stage. More about Slumberland at this link. Emily J. Carnacki performed by Nicole Knudsen Nicole is a Los Angeles-based actor, writer, and producer. She is the creator and star of the fiction podcast The Godfrey Audio Guide, a member of the Fable & Folly Network. For more information about Nicole, please visit her website: www.nicole-knudsen.com The tracks Trapped in the Stairwell, Child of the Quartz, Carrie-Anne, Merienne,The Hairdresser, and Chalice by Blue Dot Sessions (www.sessions.blue) This episode features promos for the audio drama podcasts Your Local Time Travelers and Residents of Proserpina Park. Please give them a listen! The sound design in this episode owes thanks to Freesound Project contributors: spenceomatic, angryadam, dapperdaniel, klankbeeld, wildtofurkey, garuda1982, nox_sound, pnmcarrierailfan, rico_casaszza,ikbenraar. Thank YOU for listening to Slumberland!

Star Trek. The final frontier. These are the podcasts of three enthusiastic nerds. “To be, or not to be Kodos?” That's the question in Star Trek: The Original Series “The Conscience of the King.” A.Ron and Talitha dig into the episode's Shakespearean homage, the ghosts of Kirk's past, and the deadliest substance known to man: Tetralubisol! ⁠You can check out Talitha's YouTube Channel here!⁠ ⁠Follow along on Talitha's insta as she posts about upcoming projects⁠ Beam your feedback to startrek@baldmove.com. Hey there!  Check out ⁠https://support.baldmove.com/⁠ to find out how you can gain access to ALL of our premium content, as well as ad-free versions of the podcasts! ⁠Join the Club!⁠ Join the discussion: ⁠Email⁠ | ⁠Discord⁠ | ⁠Reddit ⁠| ⁠Forums⁠ Follow us: ⁠Twitch⁠ | ⁠YouTube⁠ | ⁠Twitter⁠  |  ⁠Instagram⁠  |  ⁠Facebook⁠ ⁠Leave Us A Review on Apple Podcasts Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

[School of Movies 2025] A bold new direction for the transforming robotic life forms. Fully digitally animated, with no need of Shia Lebeouf or Marky Mark, specifically an animated film theatrically released for the first time since 1986, and for the first time neither Peter Cullen nor Frank Welker is lending their voice to proceedings, despite this being an origin story for both Optimus Prime and Megatron. Instead Chris Hemsworth and Brian Tyree Henry step up to lend unexpectedly Shakespearean weight to the dramatic dissolution of a friendship between these two eternal foes. It's a Transformers movie that's actually about something for a change, rather than just a McGuffin hunt, and Bumblebee won't SHUT UP! Guest: Dan Hoeppner  @MightyMegatron0  of Leftover Army Monsters

Uncle Chris is looking after the Armchair Adventures Travel Agency, while Connie is preparing for the launch of Season 6 of Armchair Adventures. To kick things off, Uncle Chris takes us back to 'Ye Olde England' and part one of 'A Shakespeare Adventure' from Season 4. In the episode, Connie needs help with her Shakespeare essay, so she asks Uncle Chris and his community theatre company to lend her a hand! ‘It feels quite royal in here, almost like we are at the Tudor court…’

"Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things..." In this deep dive episode, we dissect one of Taylor Swift's most iconic satirical masterpieces. From the enchanted references that bookend her career to the Shakespeare allusions hidden in plain sight, we explore how "Blank Space" operates as both brilliant satire and surprisingly authentic commentary on complex womanhood. Join us as we unpack the magic, madness, heaven, and sin of a song that dared to ask: what if we owned the narrative instead of fighting it? Subscribe for episode updates and After School premium content: aptaylorswift.substack.com/subscribe. After School subscribers get monthly bonus episodes, exclusive content, and early access to help shape future topics! Stay up to date at aptaylorswift.com Mentioned in this episode: A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare Pretty Little Liars (TV series) The Office (TV series) Wife of Bath from The Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer Episode Highlights: [02:29] Diving into “Blank Space”  [08:15] “New money, suit and tie” - character analysis  [15:27] Analyzing the chorus [22:31] Shakespearean references  [28:50] “Cherry lips, crystal skies” vs. “stolen kisses, pretty lies”  [35:25] "I get drunk on jealousy" [38:44] Bridge analysis: "Boys only want love if it's torture"  [44:59] Getting into the purpose of “Blank Space”  Follow AP Taylor Swift podcast on social! TikTok → tiktok.com/@APTaylorSwift Instagram → instagram.com/APTaylorSwift YouTube → youtube.com/@APTaylorSwift Link Tree → linktr.ee/aptaylorswift Bookshop.org → bookshop.org/shop/apts Libro.fm → tinyurl.com/aptslibro Contact us at aptaylorswift@gmail.com Affiliate Codes: Krowned Krystals - krownedkrystals.com use code APTS at checkout for 10% off! Libro.fm - Looking for an audiobook? Check out our Libro.fm playlist and use code APTS30 for 30% off books found here tinyurl.com/aptslibro This podcast is neither related to nor endorsed by Taylor Swift, her companies, or record labels. All opinions are our own. Intro music produced by Scott Zadig aka Scotty Z.

In Season 2 of Show Me Something Wrong, we're focusing on rip offs, unofficial sequels, and wrong adaptations! In this episode, Dave shows Guy TITUS ANDRONICUS from 1998... or 1999... a Shakespearean adaptation shot on video in a warehouse in Tampa, Florida. This episode has been in the works for a long time with Dave digging through defunct websites and hunting down cast members. So much mad stuff is uncovered. Connections to strip club kings. Exploding pig corpses. Sets painted with... well... just listen!  Follow Show Me Something Wrong on Instagram and Twitter. Show Me Something Wrong theme song by JUNK!

Shakespeare & Company's Artistic Director Allyn Burrows and the co-chair of the upcoming Celebrating Jewish Plays program Greg Lipper sat down with "The Shmooze" to talk about the weekend-long event. Celebrating Jewish Plays runs October 10–12, 2025, and will feature four staged readings—"The Price," by Arthur Miller; "The Sisters Rosensweig," by Wendy Wasserstein; "Here There Are Blueberries," by Moisés Kaufman and Amanda Gronich; and "Roz and Ray," by Karen Hartman, featuring Tony-nominated actor John Douglas Thompson ("The Gilded Age"). Established in the 1970s, Shakespeare & Company, in Lenox, Massachusetts, develops and performs Shakespeare's works as well as other classic, contemporary, and socially and politically significant works. The company embraces the core values of Shakespearean ethos: collaboration, commitment to language, visceral experience, and classical ideals expressed with physical prowess and an embodied contemporary voice. Episode 397 September 21, 2025 Amherst, MA "

Sing "Nants' Ingonyama," "Hakuna Matata," and "Mamela lelando we" as NostalgiaCast returns to Pride Rock for a discussion of THE LION KING, starring the voices of James Earl Jones, Jeremy Irons, and Matthew Broderick. Rachel Wagner and Stanford Clark of the Talking Disney Classics podcast join Jonny and Darin to chat about the film's long-lasting legacy, stunning animation and adult Shakespearean themes, and place within the '90s Disney Renaissance.

Prince Andrew is the ultimate cautionary tale of wasted privilege. He was born with every advantage imaginable—castles, titles, taxpayer-funded luxury, and a job description so easy it bordered on parody: wave, cut ribbons, attend parades, and stay out of scandal. That's all it would have taken to coast quietly into old age as a harmless relic of the monarchy. But instead, Andrew chose arrogance, sleaze, and stupidity. From clinging to Jeffrey Epstein after his conviction, to babbling about sweat conditions and Pizza Express alibis on Newsnight, to humiliating himself with excuses that became memes, he torched his reputation with breathtaking incompetence. Where A Bronx Tale's Sonny mourned wasted talent, Andrew embodies wasted privilege—proving that even the most cushioned life can collapse when handled by a fool.Now stripped of duties and titles, Andrew haunts royal estates like a ghost, exiled by the very institution built to protect him. He isn't remembered as a naval officer, a duke, or even “the Queen's favorite son”—he's remembered as a global punchline. His disgrace isn't Shakespearean tragedy but slapstick farce: a man who could have lived in effortless dignity but instead chose degeneracy and delusion. His legacy is forever tied to sweatless denials, pizza defenses, and the Epstein scandal—his crown of privilege melted down into a crown of mockery.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-moscow-murders-and-more--5852883/support.

CBS Radio Workshop | (16) The Enormous Radio || (17) Lovers, Villains and Fools | May 11, 1956; 01:30 -- A newly purchased radio picks up voices from neighboring apartments instead of regular broadcasts. Starring: William Conrad; Hans Conried; Virginia Gregg; Stacy Harris; Charlotte Lawrence; Eve McVeagh31:56 -- A Shakespearean sampler of the actor and his craft. Helen Hayes has been known for many years as one of the leading actresses of the American stage and through CBS Radio Workshop the Helen Hayes drama group and Helen Hayes present a Shakespearian repertoire of Lovers, Villains and Fools. || Starring: Helen Hayes#helenhayes #WilliamConrad: : : : :My other podcast channels include: MYSTERY x SUSPENSE -- DRAMA X THEATER -- COMEDY x FUNNY HA HA -- VARIETY X ARMED FORCES -- THE COMPLETE ORSON WELLES .Subscribing is free and you'll receive new post notifications. Also, if you have a moment, please give a 4-5 star rating and/or write a 1-2 sentence positive review on your preferred service -- that would help me a lot.Thank you for your support.https://otr.duane.media | Instagram @duane.otr#scifiradio #oldtimeradio #otr #radiotheater #radioclassics #bbcradio #raybradbury #twilightzone #horror #oldtimeradioclassics #classicradio #horrorclassics #xminusone #sciencefiction #duaneotr:::: :

Prince Andrew is the ultimate cautionary tale of wasted privilege. He was born with every advantage imaginable—castles, titles, taxpayer-funded luxury, and a job description so easy it bordered on parody: wave, cut ribbons, attend parades, and stay out of scandal. That's all it would have taken to coast quietly into old age as a harmless relic of the monarchy. But instead, Andrew chose arrogance, sleaze, and stupidity. From clinging to Jeffrey Epstein after his conviction, to babbling about sweat conditions and Pizza Express alibis on Newsnight, to humiliating himself with excuses that became memes, he torched his reputation with breathtaking incompetence. Where A Bronx Tale's Sonny mourned wasted talent, Andrew embodies wasted privilege—proving that even the most cushioned life can collapse when handled by a fool.Now stripped of duties and titles, Andrew haunts royal estates like a ghost, exiled by the very institution built to protect him. He isn't remembered as a naval officer, a duke, or even “the Queen's favorite son”—he's remembered as a global punchline. His disgrace isn't Shakespearean tragedy but slapstick farce: a man who could have lived in effortless dignity but instead chose degeneracy and delusion. His legacy is forever tied to sweatless denials, pizza defenses, and the Epstein scandal—his crown of privilege melted down into a crown of mockery.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.com

Prince Andrew is the ultimate cautionary tale of wasted privilege. He was born with every advantage imaginable—castles, titles, taxpayer-funded luxury, and a job description so easy it bordered on parody: wave, cut ribbons, attend parades, and stay out of scandal. That's all it would have taken to coast quietly into old age as a harmless relic of the monarchy. But instead, Andrew chose arrogance, sleaze, and stupidity. From clinging to Jeffrey Epstein after his conviction, to babbling about sweat conditions and Pizza Express alibis on Newsnight, to humiliating himself with excuses that became memes, he torched his reputation with breathtaking incompetence. Where A Bronx Tale's Sonny mourned wasted talent, Andrew embodies wasted privilege—proving that even the most cushioned life can collapse when handled by a fool.Now stripped of duties and titles, Andrew haunts royal estates like a ghost, exiled by the very institution built to protect him. He isn't remembered as a naval officer, a duke, or even “the Queen's favorite son”—he's remembered as a global punchline. His disgrace isn't Shakespearean tragedy but slapstick farce: a man who could have lived in effortless dignity but instead chose degeneracy and delusion. His legacy is forever tied to sweatless denials, pizza defenses, and the Epstein scandal—his crown of privilege melted down into a crown of mockery.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-epstein-chronicles--5003294/support.

What really happens in the frantic first 24 hours of a new government job? This week on Ex-Ministers' Questions, Ed Balls and George Osborne lift the lid on the art of political survival. From the scramble of last-minute briefings to the insider secrets government drivers know before their ministers do, they swap stories on navigating the chaos of a reshuffle.Then it's from the Cabinet Office to the kitchen, as George grills Ed on one of Westminster's most notorious culinary conspiracies: Lasagna-gate. Was that dinner party at the Balls-Cooper house really a covert plot to bring down Ed Miliband?And after serving up some advice for a new podcasting rival, the duo look ahead: could a robot outshine a human as a political speechwriter? They put it to the test in real time, asking AI to pen a Shakespearean sonnet on the spot. The result? You'll have to hear it to believe it…To get episodes early and ad-free, join Political Currency Gold or the Kitchen Cabinet:

Send us a textStep into Stratford-upon-Avon with us as we review Shakespeare & Hathaway: Private Investigators (Season 1), now streaming on Hallmark Plus. Eric and Andrea dive deep into this quirky British cozy mystery series, unpacking the standout episodes, character dynamics, and whether it earns a place alongside favorites like Rosemary & Thyme and The Coroner. Expect lively debate, surprising takes, and a few laughs along the wayIn this episode, we cover:

**REPOST** On this week's annotated deep dive, The Cultists present Baz Lurman's 90s frenetic teen angst extravaganza, Romeo + Juliet (1996).  Known for his kinetic color-fueled explosions of images and sound, Lurman's “red curtain trilogy” put him on the film world's map as an Auteur with a distinct and immediately recognizable style. Bright, brash, and unforgiving to anyone who prefers a more minimal Mise-en-scène, Lurman's penchant for decadence was ripe for a world of high octane emotions, brawls, masquerades, and the lush arc of an epic demise. However, Lurman's vision of bringing the dusty pages of the oft produced Shakespearean play into the hearts and minds of the notoriously apathetic 90s teenage market was a rather unprecedented and hard sell for commercial studios at the time. Particularly when Lurman insisted that not only would he win over a teen audience, he would do it all without altering a single syllable of the original Shakespearean language of the play. And he would use a cast of mostly young people to do it. Lurman's vision succeeded and the decade to follow would be one stuffed with Shakespearean adaptations for teens, and yet, ‘R+J' remains distinct among them all. A burning strange indefinable star, that shall not be defied. Deep dives include: The film's production history, editing and cinematography; the lineage of Romeo and Juliet literature that lead to Shakespeare's 1596 adaptation of the tale; the 1996 film's comparisons with the exactly 400 years older play; the historical roots of the warring Guelph vs. Ghibelline factionalism that led to such constant civil brawls; how amazing it is that Romeo spends a full third of the play desperately and despondently in love with someone else; why the developing teenage mind lacks impulse control; and why even Dante personally hated the Montagues and Capulets enough to write them into his levels of Hell two centuries before Shakespeare was even born. Episode Safe Word(s): “impulse control” (REPOSTED Episode from 2023 that traveled over from the old Anchor platform with a broken link).

Rebecca, Tori, and special guest, Louise, return to chat about the 1993 Kenneth Branaugh and 2013 Josh Whedon productions of Shakespeare's "Much Ado About Nothing." We delve into some character analysis, performance comparisons, and Shakespearean themes. We discuss gender dynamics, visual aesthetics of the adaptations, and identify our spotlight scenes and shining stars. And, we have a lot of fun.MusicApache Rock Instrumental | by Sound Atelier; licensed from JamendoRemember the way | Mid-Air Machine | licensed under a Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License at Free Music ArchiveSound EffectsRecord Scratch: Sound Effect free on PixabayOrchestral win | Sound Effect by u_it78ck90s3 from PixabayCinematic Logo-DHcz | Sound Effect by Dzianis Honczarow from PixabaySourcesBBC News | Letter Reveals Shakespeare Did Not Abandon His WifeHey nonny nonny – Shakespeare NerdCliff's Notes | Much Ado About NothingMuch Ado About Nothing movie review (1993) | Roger EbertDen of Geek | Why Did Joss Whedon Choose Much Ado About NothingBackstage | Making Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing4 changes Joss Whedon made to Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing | The WeekThe battle of two ‘Much Ado About Nothing' films – Seven Inches of Your TimeMuch Ado About Nothing movie review (2013) | Roger EbertMuch Ado About Nothing - Entire Play | Folger Shakespeare Library

This week on The Austin Young Show, I sit down with Jennifer “Zooki” Sturges of Ex Regrets for an episode packed with passion, purpose, and new beginnings. We talk about the roots of Ex Regrets and how Zooki's riot grrrl influences along with her work with queer, trans, and femme communities in North Texas have shaped the band's sound and message.What's coming up: Riot Girl Fest 2025Zooki announces that Riot Girl Fest 2025 will be Saturday, October 4, 2025 at Growl Records in Arlington, Texas. The fest continues its mission of femme and queer empowerment, supporting several nonprofits and giving space to artists who demand to be heard.A world exclusive: The new zine Riot Girl ManifestoWe get the first look at Zooki's next big project, a brand new twelve page zine called Riot Girl Manifesto. It will debut in September in both print and online, with the intention of becoming a quarterly. She also reads the manifesto live in the episode, unpacking what it means, who it is for, and why it matters.Austin's new segment: Lyrics as Shakespeare MonologueAustin debuts a brand new recurring segment where he reads band lyrics as though they were a dramatic Shakespearean monologue. Expect poetic pauses, iambic rhythm, and extra gravitas you did not know you needed. The first pick is an Ex Regrets track Burqini Kill that lands somewhere between howl and whisper.Make sure to like and subscribe to The Austin Young Show, and follow the Official Playlist to hear all the tracks we highlight and the bands we feature on Amazon and Apple Music.Theme song by The Fullstops Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

By the Power of Grayskull... This Movie ExistsWelcome to this episode of The Most Excellent 80s Movies Podcast! Hosts Krissy Lenz and Nathan Blackwell are joined by special guests Jordan Collier and Derrick Tesson to tackle the 1987 sci-fi fantasy spectacle Masters of the Universe. What happens when you take beloved toys, add Dolph Lundgren in a furry loincloth, and let Cannon Films work their budget magic? A movie that should have been good but becomes a fascinating study in wasted potential.The Cosmic Key to This DiscussionThe crew dives deep into this He-Man adaptation that somehow makes its titular hero a supporting character in his own movie. While Franklin Langella chews scenery magnificently as Skeletor, delivering Shakespearean gravitas to lines like "Tell me about the loneliness of good, He-Man—is it equal to the loneliness of evil?", the film suffers from an identity crisis. Is it Star Wars? Is it Conan? The answer: it's a Cannon Films production that tries to be both and succeeds at neither.Nathan defends his childhood favorite while acknowledging its flaws, giving it a nostalgic 7 out of 10 cosmic keys. The other hosts are less forgiving, with ratings ranging from 3-6, all agreeing that the movie's biggest sin is having too much plot crammed into its runtime. The discussion reveals how Masters of the Universe exemplifies the late-80s trend of studios trying to manufacture Star Wars-level franchises without understanding what made that saga work.Additional Cosmic Revelations:Gwildor (Billy Barty) somehow became the real protagonist while He-Man watches from the sidelinesDolph Lundgren dubbed his own lines despite not being fluent in English during filmingThe film's budget constraints forced most action to Earth, making it less a He-Man movie and more a sci-fi fish-out-of-water storySkeletor's mask was later recycled for Star Trek: The Next GenerationThe movie features unexpected connections to Friends and Back to the FutureThe Final VerdictDespite universal agreement that the movie fails to live up to its potential, the hosts find entertainment value in its ambitious campiness and Langella's committed villain performance. It's a movie that epitomizes the "so bad it's almost good" category—emphasis on almost.Ready for More 80s Movie Magic?Join the conversation at trustory.fm where members get early, ad-free access plus exclusive bonus content! Connect with us on Facebook, Instagram, and Bluesky.Learn more about our hosts and guests: Squishy Studios and Neighborhood Comedy TheatreWhat's your take on 80s movies that had all the right ingredients but couldn't quite make the recipe work? ---Learn more about supporting this podcast by becoming a member. It's just $5/month or $55/year. Visit our website to learn more.

Because I'm finishing up my next book 'Romeo v Juliet' I need to play a rerun this week, so I'm posting Nanny Piggins version of the great Shakespearean tale.Support the show at https://www.buymeacoffee.com/storiesraspratt If you enjoyed the podcast please like, review and/or subscribe!Support the showFor merchandise use this link... https://www.cafepress.com.au/shop/rasprattTo buy one of my books use this link... https://amzn.to/3sE3Ki2 To buy me a coffee use this link... https://buymeacoffee.com/storiesraspratt To book a ticket to a live show use this link... https://raspratt.com/live-shows/

Spoilers Warning! If you haven't finished reading the 900 pages of The Hallmarked Man and don't want to hear details from the novel, you will not enjoy this conversation about Strike8.John read the latest Strike-Ellacott novel by Thursday morning using the pre-publication head start, the Robert Glenister audiobook dropped early Tuesday morning, a bootleg epub version on his wife's iPad, and the codex hardcover that arrived at 5:00 on the day of release. Nick didn't finish until early Saturday but was already half-way through his second reading via audiobook by Sunday night.John didn't especially enjoy reading the book as fast as he did; Nick was frustrated that he could not read it faster than he did. Both were delighted by Rowling's work and are looking forward to the coming weeks of re-reading and ‘Tools, Springs, and Threads' analysis of its artistry and meaning.In this week's conversation, they touch on fandom disappointment with the new book before discussing how three predictions they'd made about Hallmarked Man played out, the three Real World targets of Rowling's wrath in her current work, John's preliminary work on the novel's epigraphs (and the Aurora Leigh-esque forgotten tome of epic poetry that may be Strike8's Rosmersholm or Faerie Queene), and what's next in their reading of Cormoran Strike.As is their wont, Nick and John refer to ideas and to people that Serious Readers will want to check up on or learn more about. Here are a selection of links to many of these subjects with their apology for those they've missed and their invitation to share counter-sources or requests for other links.They thank everyone who listens to these Lake and Shed conversations, those who join in the discussions in the comment thread below (how was your first reading of Hallmarked Man?), and especially for our paid subscribers who were polled for their questions and concerns last week for our consideration before we put our notes together.Hogwarts Professor is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.Anteros-Eros Distinction in Cormoran StrikeCormoran & Robin and Odysseus & Penelope (Joanne Gray, 2019)I found out that this is actually the statue of Anteros—not Eros as it is popularly called. Anteros is the subject of the Shaftesbury Memorial in Piccadilly Circus, London, where he symbolizes the selfless philanthropic love of the Earl of Shaftesbury for the poor. The memorial is sometimes given the name The Angel of Christian Charity and is popularly mistaken for Eros, cf., Lloyd & Mitchinson (2006) The Book of General Ignorance “Because of the bow and the nudity… everybody assumed it was Eros, the Greek god of love.”https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anteroshttps://www.theoi.com/Ouranios/ErosAnteros.htmlEros is the brother of Anteros and also pretty much the opposite of Eros.Reading Rowling at Four Levels (John Granger, 2021)Robin and Cormoran, even if you want to include Sam Barclay, are not a soul exteriorization akin to Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The psychomachia of the Strike novels is built on the Shakespearean soul-Spirit romantic model rather than the Platonic-Patristic body-mind-spirit soul triptych of ancient, Medieval, and contemporary film and written fiction. In this model, the man and woman lede players take the part of soul and spirit, Coomaraswamy's duo sunt in homine human and divine aspects, either as fixed roles as in Othello and The Tempest or in relation to the other, each being soul and embracing the other as supra-natural as in Romeo and Juliet and Antony and Cleopatra (see Lings and Pogson for that). Rowling's embedded models for this exteriorized drama of human sanctification are the myths of ‘Leda and the Swan‘ and ‘Psyche and Cupid‘ and the psychomachia spiritual allegories of Eros and Anteros, true and false Cupid, within Spenser's Faerie Queen, the Redcrosse Knight and Una as well as Britomart and Artegell.On Valentine Longcaster as the Erotic Cupid (Strike being the Anterotic Cupid)Valentine Longcaster is a hilarious cryptonym for Cupid, for whom Valentine is a second name (see the post on Valentine's Day in the Psyche and Eros post) and ‘Longcaster' is a reference to his weapon of choice, the bow and arrow of the god of love. He pricks Strike at the direction of Venus-Charlotte, in some myths his mother, in others a lover and cousin or brother (murky waters!), and sets in motion the long-range plan of the envious ex to destroy Robin and Cormoran's budding relationship.Add ‘Valentine Longcaster' to the pile of evidence for this particular backdrop and let's continue to look for parallels and links Rowling has playfully embedded in the psycho-spiritual, neo-mythological allegory of the soul's journey to perfection, and specifically the souls of women.For much more on this Eros-Anteros distinction and its importance in grasping the allegorical meaning of the Strike-Ellacott relationship, see Ink Black Heart: Strike as Zeus to Robin's Leda and Cupid to Mads' Psyche (John Granger, 2022)Fandom Response to Hallmarked Man:From the Reddit r/Cormoran Strike page:Hogwarts Professor Predictions for Hallmarked Man:* Charlotte was Murdered (Nick Jeffery), Really, It Wasn't a Suicide (John Granger)‘Charlotte' mentioned twice as often in Strike 8 as ‘Cormoran' and Valentine Longcaster's interview with Robin Ellacott has a major ‘tell' at its finish (cf. p 451, ch 62).* Robin Ellacott is Sterile (John Granger), Rowling Studies podcastEctopic Pregnancy consequent to PID and Murphy Pregnancy Trap leading to de facto sterility prediction appears as story-line in Chapter 3 of Hallmarked Man* The Baby in the LakeHallmarked Man is Rowling's ‘Baby Novel.'Rowling's Three Targets in Hallmarked Man's Surface Story* The Ideologically Captured Police and Media and the ‘False Religion' of Freemasonry's Control of the Police in Hallmarked ManRowling's Week of publication tweets and retweets about UK police taking the side of Trans Activists and against Gender Critical feminists: * https://x.com/iain_masterton/status/1963545948711219320 (JKR retweet)* https://x.com/joannaccherry/status/1963547738722668666 (ditto)* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1963528602164555894* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1963297139905167722* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1962847107343139014* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1963465628053848363* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1963299236365140305* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1963298726417457300* https://x.com/soniasodha/status/1963185964630647295 (JKR retweet; nota bene)* https://x.com/Jebadoo2/status/1962959405160239135 (JKR retweet)* https://x.com/joannaccherry/status/1962930361035374703 (retweet)* https://x.com/jk_rowling/status/1962932333025067268* https://x.com/JohannLamont/status/1963658557007749364 (retweet)Boris Johnson and Lord BranfootBoris Johnson hosting the show. 2003 (YouTube)Boris Johnson's Personal Image or Brand (Wikipedia)Max Hastings referred to Johnson's public image as a "façade resembling that of P. G. Wodehouse's Gussie Fink-Nottle, allied to wit, charm, brilliance and startling flashes of instability",[4] while political scientist Andrew Crines stated Johnson displayed "the character of a likable and trustworthy individual with strong intellectual capital".[5] Private Eye editor Ian Hislop has defined him as "Beano Boris" due to his perceived comical nature, saying: "He's our Berlusconi ... He's the only feel-good politician we have, everyone else is too busy being responsible."[6] To the journalist Dave Hill, Johnson was "a unique figure in British politics, an unprecedented blend of comedian, conman, faux subversive showman and populist media confection".* “Mentally Ill Islamophobes”2021-22 Census ~ Islam in the UK Demographics: 6% UK, 6.7% England, 15% LondonUK 'Grooming Gangs': Deriving Per-Capita Offence Rates by EthnicityInstitute for Social Policy Research (UK) An independent, data-driven social-policy research institute focusing on UK political affairs.We therefore conclude that consistent with widespread public perceptions, whilst available evidence is not exhaustive, the mean rate derived from four of the most comprehensive studies available to date on share of CSEGG crimes by ethnicity does affirm the picture that Asians and Blacks are overrepresented in such crimes. Curiously, with much of the attention devoted to “Asians” (predominantly Pakistani gangs), it is notable that Blacks are similarly overrepresented, with our weighted rate providing limited evidence of even greater over-representation than Asians.Please note, however —For the CEOP study that ISPR use, footnote 1 shows the selection criteria, excluding all abuse initiated in a familial or fraternal (house based) relationship:"Where “localised-grooming” is defined as: “a form of sexual exploitation – previously referred to as ‘on street grooming' in the media - where children have been groomed and sexually exploited by an offender, having initially met in a location outside their home. this location is usually in public, such as a park, cinema, on the street or at a friend's house. Offenders often act together, establishing a relationship with a child or children before sexually exploiting them. some victims of ‘street grooming' may believe that the offender is in fact an older ‘boyfriend'; these victims introduce their peers to the offender group who might then go on to be sexually exploited as well. abuse may occur at a number of locations within a region and on several occasions. ‘Localised grooming' was the term used by CEOP in the intelligence requests issued to police forces and other service agencies in order to define the data we wished to receive.” (footnote 1, p. 7)"They also exclude the 39% of cases where race was not included in the data. It would be sensible to assume that ethnicity was not recorded when the ethnicity of both perpetrators and the victim were the UK default.Removing the selection criteria shows that people of Asian ethnicity are under-represented in child sex abuse cases compared to White British: https://www.csacentre.org.uk/app/uploads/2024/02/Trends-in-Offical-Data-2022-23-FINAL.pdfJulie Blindel pushes back on the ‘Grooming Gang as Muslim problem' narrative:To say that the only reason the police were complacent when it came to the grooming gangs of Rochdale, Rotherham, Telford, and elsewhere was because (some of) these men were Pakistani Muslim, is madness. The ethnicity and religion of these men is relevant, but not in the way the racists would have us believe. It is relevant because it was seen as a phenomena perpetrated because of ethnicity as opposed to male violence towards females. Look at it any other way betrays the vast majority of girls that fall prey to these men.The Epigraph Authors — and a hidden Book Behind the Book?* Albert Pike, Confederate States of America General* Louise Freeman Davis on John Oxenham's Maid of the Silver Sea* Aurora Leigh (Elizabeth Barret Browning) and Ink Black Heart* The Ring and the Book (Robert Browning)* Pompilia: A Feminist Reading of 'The Ring and the Book'Hogwarts Professor is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Hogwarts Professor at hogwartsprofessor.substack.com/subscribe

In this episode of the Broad Street Review podcast, host Darnelle Radford welcomes guests Will and Mike to discuss their journey in creating the play 'Dogberry and Verges Are Scared' for the Philadelphia Fringe Festival. They explore the collaborative nature of theater, the challenges of producing a new work, and the excitement of engaging with audiences. The conversation highlights the importance of support from the artistic community and the evolution of their script through various readings and workshops. As they prepare for their upcoming performances, they reflect on the creative process and the joy of bringing new stories to life.Chapters00:00 Introduction and Welcome to Season 1001:05 Meet the Guests: Will and Mike02:22 The Journey of Creating a Play05:33 The Importance of Collaboration in Theater11:11 Navigating the Current Climate for Artists14:44 First Performance and Audience Reactions18:55 The Evolution of the Script25:00 The Role of Support and Collaboration27:52 Closing Thoughts and Ticket InformationDogberry and Verges Are Scared is a pants-pissingly funny new comedy that follows everyone's third favorite pair of Shakespearean clowns as they blunder through the events of Much Ado About Nothing and beyond.Their friendship and their wits will be tested as they attempt to foil Don John's evil plot, save Fair Hero's wedding, and hopefully earn a few ducats while they're at it. Borrowing from the rich theatrical history that traces its roots from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead to Waiting for Godot to the storied stages of the vaudeville circuit.This rolling world premiere, produced in partnership with Cincinnati Shakespeare Company, hopes to shed new light on familiar characters by mixing a modern comedic sensibility and exciting new scenes with a light sprinkling Shakespeare's own words, words, words. It's chock full of easter eggs for people with a season subscription to the Folger and the perfect gateway drug for those who think “iambic pentameter” is a model of Buick. Starring Philadelphia theater legends Scott Greer and Anthony Lawton, Dogberry and Verges Are Scared is bursting with heart, highbrow comedy, vaudevillian gags, and... dancing? Only 10 performances. Do not miss this play!Slippery Trout Productions was formed in 2025 by Michael Doherty and Will Mobley. They are two clowns that have no business running a business.FOR TICKETS AND INFORMATION: https://phillyfringe.org/events/dogberry-and-verges-are-scared/

John's guest this week is a follow up show with Dr. John Cox, Shakespearean expert. They do a follow up to a prior program, this time focusing on Shakespeare's turbulent times, Elizabeth I, the Reformation and his plays and other works.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

With Ghost of Yōtei launching October 2nd, Nerd Legion is diving into the films and anime that inspired the game's haunted world. We begin with Akira Kurosawa's Throne of Blood (1957), a chilling reimagining of Macbeth that blends Noh theatre, samurai tragedy, and supernatural ghosts. In this episode, MonteCristo and DoA discuss:⚔️How Throne of Blood's fog, wind, and black-and-white style shaped Kurosawa Mode in Ghost of Tsushima (returning in Ghost of Yōtei)⚔️The fusion of Shakespearean tragedy with Japanese Noh theatre and its symbolism (Lady Asaji's mask-like stillness, the centipede banners, spinning horses)⚔️Kurosawa's legendary use of atmosphere and the unforgettable real-arrow death scene with Toshiro Mifune⚔️How the film's themes of cursed destiny and supernatural hauntings echo the mythic tone of Ghost of Yōtei

No, not that Anne Hathaway. The Shakespearean one.Topics in this episode include Socratididion's Epipsychidion, unparalleled pettiness, Stephen's unfair characterization of Shakespeare's wife Anne Hathaway, why commentary about Anne Hathaway has been so problematic historically, Anne as a Gertrude stand-in, how we can learn factual information about the Shakespeares' lives, sixteenth century age gap discourse, Anne and Will's marriage prospects, “Venus and Adonis,” marriage and weddings in Elizabethan England, how Anne Hathaway became a symbol of Victorian propaganda, Shakespeare and the “Scylla and Charybdis” schema, and why Ulysses is a terrible place to go to learn about Shakespeare's life.Support us on Patreon to access episodes early, bonus content, and a video version of our podcast. On the Blog:A Shakespearean Ghost Story Part 2: Anne Hath a WayBlooms & Barnacles Social Media:Facebook | BlueSky | InstagramSubscribe to Blooms & Barnacles:Apple Podcasts | Spotify | YouTube

A storm of lace bodices and shattered dreams erupts as Trixie and Katya revisit Episodes 5 and 6, where the workroom transformed into a bloody battlefield and destiny itself teetered on stilettos. Katya, radiant yet tormented, recalls the soaring ecstasy of comedic victory before plunging into the abyss of crippling self-doubt, her every glance a silent scream for redemption. With the dual crucibles of Shakespearean tragedy and a sinister Snatch Game, crowns were forged and egos were obliterated. The legendary Ru Hollywood Stories challenge unfurled like a telenovela within a telenovela, blurring fiction and truth in a tempest of wigs and weeping. In this operatic retelling, Trixie and Katya render the runway not as mere fabric and dime store wigs, but as an altar upon which laughter, heartbreak, and RuPaul's merciless decree were sacrificed in the name of drag divinity. Start your free online visit today at Hims to find ED treatment that's up to 95% less than brand names at https://Hims.com/BALD Get organized, refreshed, and back to routine for way less! Head to https://Wayfair.com to shop all things home. This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. Give online therapy a try at https://Betterhelp.com/BALD and get on your way to being your best self! Follow Trixie: @TrixieMattel Follow Katya: @Katya_Zamo To watch the podcast on YouTube: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://bit.ly/TrixieKatyaYT⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ To check out our official YouTube Clips Channel: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://bit.ly/TrixieAndKatyaClipsYT⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Don't forget to follow the podcast for free wherever you're listening or by using this link: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://bit.ly/thebaldandthebeautifulpodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ If you want to support the show, and get all the episodes ad-free go to: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://thebaldandthebeautiful.supercast.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ If you like the show, telling a friend about it would be amazing! You can text, email, Tweet, or send this link to a friend: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://bit.ly/thebaldandthebeautifulpodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ To check out future Live Podcast Shows, go to: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://trixieandkatyalive.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ To order your copy of our book, "Working Girls", go to: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://workinggirlsbook.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ To check out the Trixie Motel in Palm Springs, CA: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.trixiemotel.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Listen Anywhere! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠http://bit.ly/thebaldandthebeautifulpodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠   Follow Trixie: Official Website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.trixiemattel.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.tiktok.com/@trixie⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.facebook.com/trixiemattel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/trixiemattel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Twitter (X): ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://twitter.com/trixiemattel⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠   Follow Katya: Official Website: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.welovekatya.com/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.tiktok.com/@katya_zamo⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Facebook: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.facebook.com/welovekatya/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Instagram: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/katya_zamo⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠  Twitter (X): ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://twitter.com/katya_zamo⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠    #TrixieMattel #KatyaZamo #BaldBeautiful Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

This week on The Filmmakers Podcast, hosts Conor Boru and Francis Annan welcome two icons of the filmmaking world: producer, writer and director Chris Columbus, and Academy Award-winning actor Sir Ben Kingsley. Chris Columbus – the creative force behind classics such as Home Alone, Mrs Doubtfire and the first two Harry Potter films – shares his experiences of working with visionary directors like Robert Eggers, his approach to shaping scripts as a director, and the importance of collaboration with actors. He also reflects on the role of rehearsals, the unique magic of making films for the big screen, the movies that continue to inspire him, and why he believes there is so much to learn from the new generation of filmmakers. Sir Ben Kingsley – whose career spans over five decades with landmark performances in Gandhi, Schindler's List and Sexy Beast – discusses the inspirations that continue to fuel his craft. He speaks about his Shakespearean roots, the nuances of performing for stage versus screen, and offers invaluable insights for emerging actors looking to build their careers. An unmissable conversation with two true legends of cinema. The Thursday Murder Club is out now! Four irrepressible retirees spend their time solving cold case murders for fun, but their casual sleuthing takes a thrilling turn when they find themselves with a real whodunit on their hands. OTHER LINKS FOOD FOR THOUGHT documentary out NOW | Watch it FREE HERE. A documentary exploring the rapid growth and uptake of the veganlifestyle around the world. – And if you enjoyed the film, please take amoment to share & rate it on your favourite platforms. Every review& every comment helps us share the film's important message withmore people. Your support makes a difference! PODCAST MERCH Get your very own Tees, Hoodies, on-set water bottles, mugs and more MERCH. https://my-store-11604768.creator-spring.com/   COURSES Want to learn how to finish your film? Take our POST PRODUCTION COURSE https://cuttingroom.info/post-production-demystified/   PATREON Big thank you to: Serena Gardner Mark Hammett Lee Hutchings Marli J Monroe Karen Newman Want your name in the show notes or some great bonus material on filmmaking? Join our Patreon for bonus episodes, industry survival guides, and feedback on your film projects!   SUPPORT THE PODCAST Check out our full episode archive on how to make films at TheFilmmakersPodcast.com   CREDITS The Filmmakers Podcast is written and produced by Giles Alderson @gilesalderson Edited by @tobiasvees Logo and Banner Art by Lois Creative  Theme Music by John J. Harvey Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Tenure of Office: November 13, 1817 - March 4, 1829 After a childhood marred by tragedy and drunken nights of Shakespearean recitations in a state of undress as a young adult, William Wirt went on to become one of the most well respected lawyers of the Early Republic, serving as legal counsel in some of the highest-profile cases of the time including the trial of George Wythe's alleged murderer and the treason trial of Aaron Burr. Why then isn't he better known in the modern day? Join me and my special guest, Howard Dorre of Plodding Through the Presidents, as we try to answer that question! Sources used for this episode can be found at https://www.presidenciespodcast.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Steven welcomes noted film critic, historian, and film institute educator Robert Horton to this episode to discuss his research and commentary on the life and works of Orson Welles, perhaps America's most famous Shakespearean of all time. Support the show by picking up official Don't Quill the Messenger merchandise at www.dontquillthepodcast.com and becoming a Patron at http://www.patreon.com/dontquillthemessenger  Made possible by Patrons: Clare Jaget, Courtney L, David Neufer, Deduce, Earl Showerman, Edward Henke, Ellen Swanson, Eva Varelas, Frank Lawler, James Warren,  Jen Swan, John Creider, John Eddings, Kara Elizabeth Martin, Michael Hannigan, Neal Riesterer, Patricia Carrelli, Richard Wood, Romola, Sandi Boney, Sandi Paulus, Sheila Kethley, Tim Norman, Tim Price, Vanessa Lops, Yvonne Don't Quill the Messenger is a part of the Dragon Wagon Radio independent podcast network. For more great podcasts visit www.dragonwagonradio.com

We continue HAHAugust 2: Double Take with an extremely underseen gem from the New World catalog, the Los Angeles set surf dramedy UNDER THE BOARDWALK, directed by Fritz Kiersch (CHILDREN OF THE CORN, TUFF TURF). Originally set to be released in 1988, New World eventually put this out at the same time as HEATHERS, the final two theatrical releases for the company.  Featuring the endless struggle between the coastal "locs" (or "lawks" as Letterboxd might have you believe) and the San Fernando Valley "Vals," the film concerns two star-crossed lovers caught between the two worlds just as the two sides meet in a local surf competition (or "compo" if you're cool). How does Allie (Danielle van Zerneck, LA BAMBA) deal with her feelings for Nick (Richard Joseph Paul, OBLIVION)? Well, not by looking after her cousin Andy (Keith Coogan, ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING), that's for sure! Helping us discuss this Shakespearean tale is our good friend and New World superfan Justin Grams, who has been with this film from the very beginning!  Listen as we go through the film's history, share our thoughts on a potential sequel, have a discussion of the slang term "whease," and a whole lot more as we give this film the attention it deserves!  Special thanks to Fritz Kiersch, writer/producer Matthew Irmas, and producer Greg Blackwell for their assistance with this episode! For all the shows in Someone's Favorite Productions Podcast Network, head here: https://www.someonesfavoriteproductions.com/ 

Notes: In July 2024, shortly before he died of cancer, I paid a last visit to the Somerset home of my wonderful friend Alexander Waugh. Alexander was one of the kindest, most generous, most talented and intellectually curious friends it has ever been my privilege to know. His rich and varied career included stints as a musician, concert promoter, author, keeper of the Waugh (Evelyn was his grandfather) family archives and researcher into the Shakespearean authorship question. (He thought it was Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford). Though he was in some discomfort, he died a happy man, lovingly cared for at home by his devoted wife Eliza. I haven't listened to these recordings we made since. They've been sitting on my iPhone and the only reason I didn't release them earlier was inertia. They also feature our friend Bob Moran. We talk about God, music, death, everything. ↓ ↓ ↓ The official website of James Delingpole: https://jamesdelingpole.co.uk

In July 2024, shortly before he died of cancer, I paid a last visit to the Somerset home of my wonderful friend Alexander Waugh. Alexander was one of the kindest, most generous, most talented and intellectually curious friends it has ever been my privilege to know. His rich and varied career included stints as a musician, concert promoter, author, keeper of the Waugh (Evelyn was his grandfather) family archives and researcher into the Shakespearean authorship question. (He thought it was Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford). Though he was in some discomfort, he died a happy man, lovingly cared for at home by his devoted wife Eliza. I haven't listened to these recordings we made since. They've been sitting on my iPhone and the only reason I didn't release them earlier was inertia. They also feature our friend Bob Moran. We talk about God, music, death, everything.