Podcasts about Spare

Müdigkeit, Antriebslosigkeit, mentale Erschöpfung – viele Menschen fühlen sich dauerhaft energielos, ohne dass eine klare Ursache erkennbar ist. Die Wahrheit ist: Häufig beginnt der Energiemangel dort, wo wir ihn nicht sehen können – in unseren Zellen. In dieser HEALTH NERDS Folge schauen wir dorthin, wo unsere Energie wirklich entsteht: in den Mitochondrien – den Kraftwerken unserer Zellen. Denn Energie entsteht nicht einfach durch Schlaf oder Nahrung – sondern tief im Inneren unseres Körpers, in einem hochkomplexen biochemischen Prozess. Zwei Stoffe, die in diesem Zusammenhang besonders spannend sind: Coenzym Q10 (Ubichinon) – ein körpereigener Stoff, der eine Schlüsselrolle in der mitochondrialen Energieproduktion spielt. Und PQQ (Pyrrolochinolinchinon) – ein relativ neu entdecktes Molekül, das die Neubildung von Mitochondrien anregen und bestehende vor oxidativem Stress schützen kann. Gemeinsam mit Gesundheitswissenschaftler Matthias Baum klären wir: Wie lässt sich zelluläre Energie wissenschaftlich erklären – und gezielt unterstützen? Was sagen aktuelle Studien zur Wirkung von Q10 und PQQ – etwa bei chronischer Erschöpfung, Long-COVID oder altersbedingtem Leistungsabfall? Welche Dosierungen gelten als sinnvoll? Und wie passen Q10 und PQQ in den immer wichtiger werdenden Bereich der Longevity-Forschung? HEALTH NERDS – Mensch, einfach erklärt. -- Spare 15% auf Deine erste Bestellung mit dem Code: HEALTHNERDS15 (im Warenkorb auf artgerecht.com eingeben) -- Ein ALL EARS ON YOU Original Podcast.

Es gibt ein Paper des einflussreichen Ökonomen Stephen Miran, das viele der scheinbar erratischen Schritte von Donald Trump erklärt - auch im Zusammenhang mit Dollar, Gold und Bitcoin. Ich lese das Paper mit Ronnie Stöferle und wir analysieren die weitreichenden Folgen.Hier ist das Paper!In Gold we Trust 2025 – Full versionIn Gold we Trust 2025 – Compact versionMonthly Gold CompassBitcoin CompassSubscription LinkIncrementum InvestmentfondsRonnie auf X***Leading Partner⚡️ Coinfinity Bitcoin kaufen, verkaufen & Sparplan!

The key is balance. We want our kids to work hard, but not at the cost of their well-being. Give yourself the ultimate gift of parenting tools, structure, and community. Join The Daily Dad Society here: https://dailydad.com/society ✉️ Sign up for the Daily Dad email: DailyDad.com

Chip Scoggins, Ryan Burns and Justin Gaard recap Big Ten Media Days in Las Vegas discussing the main storylines from both the Gophers and conference as a whole: How much will Koi Perich actually play offense? Is James Franklin always complaining? What is next for Wisconsin? Who will blink first in the Big Ten/SEC playoff standoff?

Heute hört ihr die zweite und letzte Sommerpausenfolge – und diesmal geht's um Hanna. In einem sehr persönlichen Gespräch mit Zora erzählt sie, wie sie überhaupt zum Kochen gekommen ist, obwohl niemand in ihrer Familie aus der Gastro kommt. Es geht um Hannas Kindheit auf dem Land, kreative Eltern, erste kulinarische Gehversuche – und wie daraus schließlich der Wunsch entstand, Köchin zu werden. Hanna nimmt uns mit durch ihre Ausbildung, spricht offen über schwierige Erfahrungen, gesundheitliche Tiefpunkte und warum sie trotzdem so froh ist, diesen Weg gegangen zu sein. Außerdem geht es um Reisen, epileptische Rückschläge, Probe-Arbeiten unter extremen Bedingungen (Stichwort: französische Bluttauben) – und natürlich auch das, was danach kam: TV-Shows, ein Restaurant mit ihrer Schwester, Pausen, Neustarts, Zukunftspläne. Wenn ihr Hanna besser kennenlernen wollt – hier ist eure Chance.

In dieser Folge wird das Geldsystem und die Rolle von Bitcoin eingehend untersucht. Pascal Hügli, ein digitaler Nomade, Buchautor und Krypto-Experte bei einer Schweizer Bank, teilt seine Erfahrungen und die Zusammenarbeit mit dem mexikanischen Unternehmer Ricardo Salinas. Die Konversation beleuchtet die Geschichte der Salinas-Familie, die monetären Sündenfälle, die zur heutigen Finanzlandschaft führten, und die Zukunft von Bitcoin im Kontext des Fiat-Geldsystems.Webseite: https://www.lessnoise-moresignal.com/Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/@lessnoisemoresignalpodcastBuch: https://www.amazon.de/dp/1967693013X: https://x.com/pahueg***Leading Partner⚡️ Coinfinity Bitcoin kaufen, verkaufen & Sparplan!

Manuka-Honig – diesem uralten Naturprodukt werden geradezu magische Kräfte nachgesagt. In diesem HEALTH NERDS DEEP DIVE schauen wir uns an, was hinter dem gehypten Honig aus Neuseeland steckt: Was sagt die aktuelle Studienlage zu den häufig beworbenen Effekten auf Wundheilung, Immunsystem und Verdauung? Was unterscheidet Manuka-Honig von klassischem Blütenhonig? Welche Rolle spielt der Wirkstoff Methylglyoxal (MGO)? Wie wirken antibakterielle Stoffe im Körper und wie wird die Qualität von Manuka-Honig präzise gemessen? Gemeinsam mit Gesundheitswissenschaftler Matthias Baum klären wir, welche Einsatzbereiche wissenschaftlich plausibel sind und was ins Reich der Mythen gehört. Außerdem im Quick Check: Wann ist die Einnahme von Manuka-Honig wirklich sinnvoll? Kann man ihn überdosieren? Und was gibt es bei der Einnahme für Kinder, Schwangere oder chronisch Kranke zu beachten? Antworten im HEALTH NERDS Deep Dive: Manuka-Honig. -- artgerecht MANUKA Honey hier direkt bestellen: https://bit.ly/manuka-honig-mgo900 -- Spare 15% auf Deine erste Bestellung mit dem Code: HEALTHNERDS15 (im Warenkorb eingeben) -- Zutaten: Natürlicher Manuka Honig von australischen Bienen mit einem außergewöhnlich hohen MGO-Gehalt von deutlich über 900 mg/kg -- Ein ALL EARS ON YOU Original Podcast.

In this episode of The First Day from The Fund Raising School, host Bill Stanczykiewicz, Ed.D., welcomes fundraising trailblazer Ann Updegraff Spleth to discuss one of the most inevitable, and nerve-wracking, aspects of nonprofit life: change. With decades of experience and a suitcase full of real-world examples, Ann explores how effective change management can strengthen an organization's stability and, in turn, its fundraising capacity. Whether it's adapting to new technologies, shifting donor demographics, or restructuring outdated policies, one thing's clear: resisting change is like trying to run a capital campaign using a fax machine. It's not gonna end well. Ann dives into the reasons why people, and organizations, often resist change. Spoiler alert: it's not just stubbornness. Comfort, fear of inadequacy, mistrust of leadership, and a good ol' fashioned case of organizational inertia can all gum up the works. But when nonprofits ignore these dynamics, they risk stalling progress and alienating staff and donors alike. Drawing from her experience at Kiwanis International, Ann recounts a pivotal moment where reevaluating donor recognition practices led to breakthroughs in fairness, inclusion, and, yes, big gifts. Because if your system only credits the husband, your fundraising strategy might be stuck in 1954. To guide nonprofits through the stormy seas of transition, Ann introduces a tried-and-true model from sociologist Kurt Lewin: unfreeze, change, refreeze. First, identify what's holding you back and prepare your team for what's coming. Then implement the change with clear roles, transparency, and compassion; especially since anxiety tends to spike during this stage. Finally, lock in those changes with updated policies and systems so everyone doesn't snap back to the “old way” like a rubber band. Communication, training, and inclusive decision-making are critical throughout and, if needed, a gentle nudge (or push) for those who just can't adjust. And what about donors, you ask? Ann's answer: communicate thoughtfully. If the change affects donor experience say, new recognition processes or giving channels, then yes, share early and often. But internal staff reorganizations? Probably not their business. The key is transparency with purpose. Ultimately, change is not just about what's new, but what's better for mission, for staff, and for the generous folks who fuel the work. As always, this episode is packed with practical guidance for fundraising leaders committed to growth, and just might make you rethink how your organization embraces what's next.

Rob enjoys a pour over and pumps beats, talks about going to a Phish show in Queens, NY. Rob raps/sings/talks about staring at stars at night on a clear night, high tech toilet systems and his favorite coffee/cannabis brands.   IG ~ @cchpodcast

Send us a textThanks for nearly half a thousand followers on YouTube over the last month! Truly incredible.There has been a growing radical movement pretending to be Christian and Right Wing that's been growing under our noses, and it's becoming more obvious every day. This recent clip making it's rounds exposes the Woke Right ideology as Leftism parading around in a Nazi costume, actively trying to corrupt conservatism and Christianity. It's becoming easier than ever to see where this ideology is headed thanks to people like the deceived emotional young man in this debate.Support the showSupport the Show! https://www.patreon.com/sparenoarrowsCheck out the video Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/@sparenoarrowsConnect with me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spare_no_arrows/Spare no Arrows on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/6CqhvtMWRItkoiv8ZrJ6zVSpare no Arrows on Apple Podcast https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spare-no-arrows/id1528869516

Mini Series Episode 5/10: part five is all about finding ways to use those short bursts of “free” time in the day to be the most productive- and we're not just talking about work! In an ideal world, you would have just as many hours as you need to get everything done in a day- and they'd be carefully organised too. When you're juggling all the plates in the summer though (less childcare, more responsibility, messy schedule) you need to find a way to make the most of the time that you do have: and think about what the priority is for that precious 20 minutes you gained when your partner got in early from work. Maybe you have an email you need to get to. But maybe you just need to drink a hot cup of tea and read a chapter in your book or get out for a short run. This episode is full of tips and advice for identifying what you need, making the most of those spare minutes and being as productive as you can be if you're using them for work. Tune in now for all the details!  This is part fiveof a ten part mini series, with one episode airing every week in the lead up to and then over the summer holidays to help keep you sane. I hope you'll listen in every week- and share this episode with the entrepreneurial mums you know who need to hear this too.      Thanks for joining the conversation!  Don't forget to like/follow the podcast to stay up to date on new episodes, and if you like what you hear please give us a share!  Connect with me:   Rhiannon Louden Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rhiannonlouden.co.uk & https://www.instagram.com/rhiannoneale   Website: https://www.rhiannonlouden.co.uk   Substack: https://theraremumchronicles.substack.com/    Podcast instagram: https://www.instagram.com/courageandchaospod   Intro/Outro music credit: https://www.purple-planet.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/courage-chaos--4358445/support.

CAN IT LIVE UP TO THE ORIGINAL??? Learn a new job in tech starting from $200/mo! Sign up for a FREE TripleTen career consultation with my link: https://get.tripleten.com/reelrejects Lilo & Stitch Full Reaction Watch Along:   / thereelrejects   After it OFFICIALLY joined the 1 Billion Dollar Club, Tara, Aaron, & Johnald REUNITE to give their Lilo & Stitch Live Action Reboot Reaction, Recap, Commentary, Analysis & Full Movie Spoiler Review!! Tara Erickson, Aaron Alexander, & John Humphrey react to Disney's 2025 live-action remake of Lilo & Stitch, a reimagining of the beloved 2002 animated classic. Directed by Dean Fleischer Camp (Marcel the Shell with Shoes On), this new adaptation blends heartfelt family drama with sci-fi adventure and updated visual effects to bring Experiment 626 to life like never before. Newcomer Maia Kealoha stars as Lilo Pelekai, a spirited Hawaiian girl coping with the loss of her parents while trying to fit in at school. Sydney Agudong (On My Block, West Michigan) plays her older sister Nani, fighting to keep their family together. Zach Galifianakis (The Hangover, Baskets) takes on the role of the bumbling alien scientist Dr. Jumba Jookiba, while Billy Magnussen (No Time to Die, Into the Woods) portrays the uptight Earth agent Pleakley. Chris Sanders, the original voice of Stitch and co-director of the animated film, returns to voice the mischievous blue alien once again. The film features iconic scenes reimagined in live-action—including Stitch crash-landing in Hawaii, Lilo adopting him from the animal shelter, the chaotic surfing sequence, and the emotional climax centered on the unforgettable line, “ʻOhana means family.” With a blend of action, heart, and humor, Lilo & Stitch (2025) updates a modern Disney favorite for a new generation while honoring its original legacy. Follow Aaron On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/therealaaronalexander/?hl=en Follow Tara Erickson: Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@TaraErickson Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/taraerickson/ Twitter:  https://twitter.com/thetaraerickson Intense Suspense by Audionautix is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/... Support The Channel By Getting Some REEL REJECTS Apparel! https://www.rejectnationshop.com/ Follow Us On Socials:  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reelrejects/  Tik-Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@reelrejects?lang=en Twitter: https://x.com/reelrejects Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheReelRejects/ Music Used In Ad:  Hat the Jazz by Twin Musicom is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Happy Alley by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/... POWERED BY @GFUEL Visit https://gfuel.ly/3wD5Ygo and use code REJECTNATION for 20% off select tubs!! Head Editor: https://www.instagram.com/praperhq/?hl=en Co-Editor: Greg Alba Co-Editor: John Humphrey Music In Video: Airport Lounge - Disco Ultralounge by Kevin MacLeod is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 license. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Ask Us A QUESTION On CAMEO: https://www.cameo.com/thereelrejects Follow TheReelRejects On FACEBOOK, TWITTER, & INSTAGRAM:  FB:  https://www.facebook.com/TheReelRejects/ INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/reelrejects/ TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/thereelrejects Follow GREG ON INSTAGRAM & TWITTER: INSTAGRAM:  https://www.instagram.com/thegregalba/ TWITTER:  https://twitter.com/thegregalba Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

"Die Evolution von Lactoferrin ist 160 Millionen Jahre alt, viel älter als der Mensch selbst, und es hat sich bei allen Säugetieren als wichtiger Schutzstoff entwickelt." – In diesem HEALTH NERDS Deep Dive dreht sich alles um Lactoferrin – ein körpereigenes Glykoprotein, das in Speichel, Tränenflüssigkeit, Nasenschleim und Muttermilch vorkommt und als echter Superheld unseres Immunsystems gilt. Gesundheitswissenschaftler Matthias Baum erklärt, warum Lactoferrin zur ersten Verteidigungslinie des Körpers gehört: Es wirkt antiviral, antibakteriell, antipilzartig und immunmodulierend. Besonders in der Muttermilch spielt es eine entscheidende Rolle beim Schutz von Neugeborenen und liefert faszinierende Erkenntnisse über den Aufbau unseres Immunsystems. Podcast-Host Felix Moese spricht mit dem Experten über den Einfluss von Lactoferrin auf den Eisenstoffwechsel, seine Bedeutung bei entzündlichen Erkrankungen und seine Rolle für die Darmgesundheit: Warum schenkt die moderne Forschung diesem Molekül heute mehr Aufmerksamkeit als je zuvor? Was sind natürliche Lactoferrin-Quellen? Wie sollte es aufbereitet sein, um als Nahrungsergänzungsmittel optimal zu wirken? Und warum ist die Wissenschaft geradezu fasziniert von diesem Protein? Antworten im HEALTH NERDS Deep Dive: Lactoferrin. -- artgerecht LFERRIN hier direkt bestellen: https://bit.ly/lferrin -- Spare 15% auf Deine erste Bestellung mit dem Code: HEALTHNERDS15 (im Warenkorb eingeben) -- Zutaten: Lactoferrin CLN® aus Kuhmilch, Kapselhülle: Hydroxypropylmethylcellulose. -- Ein ALL EARS ON YOU Original Podcast.

Spare Us Yet is a short-story collection from Lucas Smith, the Editor-in-chief of Bonfire Books. Each story is a new examination of Christian faith, human fallibility and our ways of finding meaning, and are all well worth your time.Bonfire Books: www.bonfirebooks.orgWiseblood Books: www.wisebloodbooks.com/Lucas' Substack: https://lucassmith.substack.com/Bonfire Books' Substack: https://bonfirebooks.substack.com/Lucas' RecommendationsCaleb Caudell: https://middleamericanliterature.substack.com/Jamie Grant: https://publishing.hardiegrant.com/en-au/authors/jamie-grantJoshua Wren: www.joshuahren.com/#/Stephen Edgar: www.stephenedgar.com.au/newsite/Philip Traylen: https://oldoldoldoldnew.substack.com/VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATIONJack has published a novel called Tower!Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Tower-Jack-BC-ebook/dp/B0CM5P9N9M/ref=monarch_sidesheetThe first nine chapters of Tower are available for free here: jackbc.substack.comOur Patreon: www.patreon.com/TheBookClubfromHellJack's Substack: jackbc.substack.comLevi's website: www.levioutloud.comwww.thebookclubfromhell.comJoin our Discord (the best place to interact with us): discord.gg/ZMtDJ9HscrWatch us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0n7r1ZTpsUw5exoYxb4aKA/featuredX: @bookclubhell666Jack on X: @supersquat1Levi on X: @optimismlevi

Alex Dubowy befragt mich zu Bitcoin für ein Interview, das in der Berliner Zeitung erschienen ist. Hier ist die Vollversion unseres Gesprächs!!Hier das Interview: https://www.berliner-zeitung.de/wirtschaft-verantwortung/geld-ohne-staat-bitcoin-ist-die-glaubwuerdige-alternative-zum-bestehenden-geldsystem-li.2339726***Leading Partner⚡️ Coinfinity Bitcoin kaufen, verkaufen & Sparplan!

Mike Stephen talks to Roger Day Bain, the author of a new book about growing up in suburban Clarendon Hills called Clarendon Hills Kid and a book about a very non-linear career path entitled Hardly Working: How I Found a Career and Kept My Soul.  Then, we learn about the continuing great work of Chicago's Share Our Spare and its quest to find new funding partnerships from executive director Alex Goodfellow.

Diese Woche sind Paul und Max zurück im virtuellen Studio und die beiden sprechen nochmal über die letzte Folge mit Maya Sauer, in der es darum geht, dass Maya von Locals bei den ADH Open im Wellenreiten angegriffen wurde. Wir haben einige Fragen dazu bekommen und besprechen die Themen nochmal. Viel Spaß bei der Folge! Yeew! Wenn ihr auch lust auf das Surf Camp in Canggu oder woanders habt, checkt gerne unseren Code SURFTALK10 für 10% Rabatt auf ALLE Lapoint Camps. Mehr Infos zu dem Camp findet ihr ⁠⁠⁠hier⁠⁠⁠ und auf ⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠Danke an Oxbow für den Support!Mehr geilen Stuff von Oxbow gibts ⁠⁠⁠hier⁠⁠⁠ ! Mehr Supporten könnt ihr hier: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://buymeacoffee.com/surftalkpodcast ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Spare 10% auf alles außer Surfboards bei ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠delight-alliance.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Code Surftalk10 ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠IMPROVE YOUR SURFING HERE: Surf Companions: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://surfcompanions.com/?ref=S4UYHSas ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

The hard stuff keeps flowing, in spite of potential hard times ahead.  We chat about the latest with the Kentucky Bourbon industry on this week's Access Louisville podcast. LBF Bourbon Reporter Stephen P. Schmidt is on the show to give us the latest on Chicken Cock Whiskey (yes, they realize they have a funny name.) The bourbon brand built a tasting room in Bardstown a year ago and is now planning to open another location in NuLu. Schmidt got the scoop on the new development from a company executive after it came to light in a legal ad. “We found a great space and a great part of town that is vibrant and growing,” Tyler Rothenberg, vice president of marketing for Grain & Barrel Spirits, CCW's parent company, told us recently.Our next live podcast is July 28: Join us as we take look at Louisville's most important development projects. Registration here.Schmidt also got a look at Heaven Hill Brands new corporate office in the ShelbyHurst development in Louisville in the last few weeks. During a visit he had a chance to speak with the family behind Heaven Hill about what the new space means for them.We also chat about the recent sale of Dueling Barrels Distillery out of Pikeville, Kentucky. And we discuss Whiskey House — a massive new contract distilling venture that's based in Elizabethtown, Kentucky.Late in the show we talk about the demolition of the Executive Strike & Spare at the Kentucky Expo Center. And we give you a few recommendations on where to bowl in Louisville.Access Louisville, sponsored by Baird, is a weekly podcast from Louisville Business First. It's available on popular podcast services including Apple Podcasts and Spotify (which are linked above.) You can also listen in the player above.

Book a Call for Founder OS: https://fos.now/yt-apply-47In this video, I reveal how I went from 80-hour weeks to building what I call an “Anti-Fragile Empire” - companies that grow stronger while I sleep.You'll discover the exact 3 S System I used to reclaim 10 years of my life while building multiple 8-figure businesses.Get my free Time Audit System here: https://fos.now/yt-gd-discover-time-audit-system-1Video title ideas (for the algo):This Video Will Fix Your Business (and Your Life)How I Built Companies That Make Money While I SleepGive Me Just 9 Minutes, and I'll DELETE What's Stressing You OutIf You Can Spare Me 9 Minutes, You'll Get 10 Years of Your Life BackConnect with me:My website: https://fos.now/yt-founder-os-47Twitter: https://twitter.com/matt_gray_LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/mattgray1TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@realmattgrayInstagram: https://instagram.com/matthgrayWant to LEARN proven systems to grow your personal brand? Go here: https://fos.now/yt-newsletter-47#onepersonbusiness #creatoreconomy #entrepreneurship

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The gang is cold. Cold weather, cold engine starts, icing, and cylinder temp issues.LinksFBI investigating Los Angeles firefighting aircraft damaged by droneEngine caches fire after pilot floods it during cold engine startUnderstanding TEC routes in busy IFR airspace — Advanced IFR, by Pilot WorkshopsSuper Scooper back in action (Reddit)Recorded January 2025 Email us at podcast@inthepatternpodcast.com with any questions, comments, or critiques.https://inthepatternpodcast.comRemember! Make left traffic, you're cleared for the option.

A – About: God warns Judah through Jeremiah that their spiritual drunkenness—pride, idolatry, and self-glory—will lead to their destruction. His patience has limits, and judgment is coming. B – Best Verse: Jeremiah 13:14 (NKJV) – "And I will dash them one against another, even the fathers and the sons together," says the Lord. "I will not pity nor spare nor have mercy, but will destroy them." C – Called to: Repent of spiritual pride and live as children of God, not to earn His favor but in response to His love. Trust Christ, who bore the wrath we deserved, and walk humbly in obedience out of love for Him.

“Look what they eye unearthed,” leaning into the tip of my ear with the warmth and closeness of the coming waves, high tide approaching in the waning moon. “More secrets.” I replied. It was a question but also a statement— there was never such as this the luminescent trace of the glowing lava that was his force and might that I could not see for miles before he would even wander— first in twinkling stars and then later the wind itself and the birds, and then beneath the waves, like the quaking shake of a mighty oak anchored elsewhere and tied to the sea. “So you know.” I was hoping he would kill me before the next time I had to ever really know anything. He was the subject, and the predicate The wrong done, and the justice She was the pride and the prejudice But Judas brings the law Did you look in the box? No, I– [The Box Is The Box] –No, I haven't. Nearly three nights ago, a mysterious box arrived on the doorstep of an equally mysterious writer, who spends their time in isolation due to the often unannounced arrival of various ghosts, spirits, time travelers, and other figures by instant teleportation and other magical forms of transportation into their shabby New York apartment. Some of ya'll got so many air wick plug ins and scentci wax melts you don't know you smell like booboo. It's an illusion. You leave your house, You smell like booboo. I promise. Oh, God, I think I need a drink. Are you alright? Let me just–sit down for a second. Of course. My God. What's wrong. Look, i'm not supposed to say anything about this but. What's wrong? It's nothing, I'm just–I'm in a song. …what? A song! Is that all?! You don't understand. It's not a normal kind of song. It's– [takes a puff of inhaler] You wouldn't understand. Well what's so wrong about being in a song? Its not – a regular song–and it's not [gasping] finished! I still kind of wanted to be a comedian–but I knew I wasn't funny in the way that made sense to keep going and stand up there. I was still writing comedy, but I didn't know how to take myself out of it–the truth was, I was in a lot of pain. A lot of emotional pain that was becoming physical–and I didn't know what to do about it to break the barrier of nervousness and blank slate state of feeling the audience's perceptions of me more overwhelmingly than ever feeling myself. look at this song. I know huh. It's purple. Every time. It is purple. And what is that. Like a muted trombone? IS THAT A TROMBONE? Or a tuba? No, it has to be a trombone…becasue you can hear it slide– And that's what that sound is. What a sneaky rabbit. Super sneaky rabbit. So if i can see all this, I'm almost certainly sure the motorcycles outside and the slamming doors are meant to murder me. I'm sure that's what it is. You ever notice how being broke in New York makes you a bad person? Like, if you're broke, you're just automatically shitty. I never meant to be in New York broke. I never meant to be in New York, But I certainly never meant to be here and be poor, Poor in New York? Automatically a shitty person. Despite how you act. You can be a rich piece of shit— But the status is automatically “You got dough? Oh, alright. Carry on” That's the attitude in New York City. Crap people get by cause they got their hands on some money and the rules in New York say it doesn't really matter how you come by it, As long as you come by it. There's no real rules or real laws to it— Just “Get the money” Well god damn. This makes me nervous. I'm an artist. I've tried everything. I didn't mean to be the automatic enemy here. Of course not. But New York is a terrifying place to me, now, Cause I realized I can be a very sweet, very humble, very honest person— And that kind of shit doesn't matter here, really. It brings you no respect to be decent. It's about the money. So I'm a musician— which in New York also makes me like, Automatically not special, And I'm trying to just be a musician, and so naturally, I'm broke. Like broke in half. Like all my bills are late. But music is my solace. So I'm listening to music, And I'm listening to a song that is so beautiful, that I start to cry. The first time I heard it, it made me cry And I'm listening to it over, and it made me cry And it's so beautiful, and God is so beautiful And look at what God did, So I'm crying, And I don't even know what it is about the beauty of it that's making me cry, But it's making me cry, And New York hears me crying And New York goes “I'll give you something to cry about” And I open my email And there's a bill from my landlord reminding me how often I'm talked about due to my late payments— And I'm realizing I've been here two years and I still don't have any money, Even though I've been trying and trying And trying So now I'm crying for other reasons. Thanks a lot, New York. “I'll give you something to cry about” So I did. If there's anything worse than being black in a city that hates blacks— It's being broke in a city that hates broke people. So I haven't spent any money in awhile. Not even on little things, or things I need. I just stay inside, and work, and think And try and really try To figure out how to make money Without having any, or spending any. Cause you can have it, and spend it, but it's always a gamble. Maybe all I needed was a good cry. But now it's not for the right reasons I'm not crying cause something is so beautiful and look at what God did I'm crying because of what I'm sure is just the devil I'm crying for the wrong things Not because of something that's so very beautiful But because of something that's so very ugly With just a wave of the hand And the flick of each finger as it rolls into a crisp closed palm, A flick of birds fell to the ground, bursting with caws Below his stance, and in a flutter of feathers and wings, The evil master, unmoved and untouched, Untouchable in his weight and glory, simply only even mildly and barely smirks at all. He has defeated all and still somehow, not won. Some say it's sure to come, the thing that wants and gathers ties; Some say surely it is yet but withered and then sure again will come It has, five times, and barely waded, Waking in the midsts of my pure eye, The morning light and fog, aye? Ye, they remembers none but our Art, And I'm bound as sure by wing and force Is you to dozens of masses, And ships having sailed but one, Which I have flourished and kept And stocked with these, the masses And yea having spade, and having friends And having honor, there was none past kept and mine, sured; And wicked may as wicked be but evil none truer thou nones't had yet pured, and muted and gathered, I have, And woken and laid and barren and truths do'st tied, And there have been shooken and wait, And m faire'd and barred here, and hereforth My duty it is to forward, forward, my shallows For my shadow, For my golden hour has shined and now you, These caged shall fly, And these thoughts shall sing, And these hour conspired to miss my time daily, And these things, beytraying that— There have no times at all, These walls in holy temples kept, swaying and cadences, and wearing, and weary, And foreign and ayered, aye— and armored. And he, you, does not wish to know but also has known— and does not wish to see, but he, too has blinded, and does not wish to betray, and yet has been crowned, made with guilt and also Shattered, as it was, And shatters, as it came, the wave o'er all us and tide sinking under, and caves and rebels and heart laid bare to surf not suffer, Nor cap nor keeping, nor tied nor honor, No, honor her; No honor came and I have tied also, this tie to mine, and another, and another and another Now forward. Forward! Forward! Damn, Conan's monologues he going deep. Yeah, I guess. He's fine, right? Look, you don't need this. Just promise me. I am sorry. Mr Jimmy has it good, too good Little sister doesn't have a heart. But didn't know it Mister music made it in the industry, too hat Mister rager had a sip at dinner It was all dramatic Stars went falling Crashing down and All it is Ms. Martha Is mismanagement of energy All it is, Ms. Margret is a magnet And it hasn't happened badly since I had a handle on it But I still get sick of madness And I still get sick with city sickness Still, forget the dancer I was sitting on the show, In the audience With my mother, Oh the models, Dozens of them Blondes and ballet buns, the brunettes I was just a lost cause And I wanted it all, the tux and the bow tie I wanted you gone so I looked at it harder Until It became nothing but Clouds in the sky You were stardust I'm a comet Here comes crashing, Had to find the progress report Then I lost it Soggy in the sideways rain It was days and days Do you promise? That's a concept? Do you promise God will be alright, Cause I came running Sent them under cover Sent the men a message Send the man a hammer Sitting in a hammock No one homes the hostile If you don't have anything nice to say Then don't say anything at all And certainly don't come and go As often as you want to It's a game of control; you know The whites, when they still want to own you Somehow I'm all sub so honest, I just—wanted that But only for a man and never bow to another woman Even if on my honor I found us as equals And no one walks the earth as calmly As someone whose never had their lights out Or had their light put out Or their lights turned off Who are God now? Who's our God, man? Who's our God, Math. That's heavy weight, And if you want a biblical fate This is Fallon, And if you watch what you ate You cut calories And if you want the girl back Give it Californian And I'm not towrth much more Than the project housing, Or a handful of candy corn, Conan— But I phone in Oscars, Still no nuts for the rabbit, And if you wanted the bunker back— You can have it. I'm all hands down in a game of poker Heaven doesn't want it Gotta get drunk not once, but at all the goalposts, Gotta count one, not two, the show hosts Too few car parts Wicked, mazes, starfold, gazes Wishes, Martyred. (But pronounced mar-tired} V.O I think about jay Leno a lot. Lately, anyway. I don't know why. I like all the hosts. Somebody. Tell me why Dillon Francis looks like JD Vance. I think he's a clone. Tel me why I know who JD Vance is. They're clones. Tell me why. Back to the future here and now So. Where do you want to go? Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here is kind of far, are you sure you're up for it? Good one, doc Though head of the alumni chapter of the cult-within a cult—to which each African American cast member of Saturday night live is automatically inducted into— EDDIE MURPHY refuses to participate in the group's latest and most complicated ritual. Delivery. Uh, I didn't order any— Breadsticks. What. Breadsticks. I didn't order any— Just— The delivery man hands over the breadsticks. —take them. Oh…Kay. See ya. The delivery man reaches in and shuts the door himself. Uh… Lol is this the one where the mysterious breadsticks are delivered without ever being ordered, and then they end up being the best breadsticks in the world, but they don't know where they came from? Yes. I think so. Lol I bought a planner because so much I loved Joan Rivers, and I planned to fill it with all the places I should go— because keeping anything digital online was not only not working as far as remembering places I wanted or needed to be be, but it was dangerous, also. I was already being tracked, and I couldn't afford a new phone just yet. Eventually, but for now I was stuck to the same signal— which meant the same traces and the same trackers they had been limiting my under-the-radar mystique. As it were, somebody always knew where I was, and it was in the most unpleasant way so far—the only thing I really wandered was what made me so important anyway to begin with. I wasn't actually political in anyway, and still someone seemed to be trying to derail my life… or at least control it, neither of which was beneficial for me in the way that made sense. I wasn't having any fun, nor did I consider living indoors as payment— especially since indoors, there were also paid plants and stalkers, and now that I had begun to more meticulously document the things that were happening, it was easy to separate from delusions. I was actually being followed— but why? Either way, having a detailed. Calendar of places I could go, the ways to get there and even alternate functions within the same grid allowed more control than just staying in my apartment a sitting duck; that's how they were hurting me. They knew where I was— all the time, and it no longer made sense to fight it and try to make music under this kind of insane irritation; the music I was making wasn't the kind I wanted anyway, and whatever war they were fighting with m stark white girls motorcycles was simply not my war. I didn't have a war, and so there wasn't a fight, and so at the very least if I were going to be fucked with, it would have to be in public; that way I had more control to steer whatever was happening in my favor and collect the energy as mine instead of lost. I wasn't an insane person— but what had been happening at my apartment was insane, and so I left it with the understanding that these people worked and operated on a level of violence and ignorance I would never be able to comprehend; they were simply tools for the devil, which in any case, was always the lesser than God. However— because I was starting to figure out who I was, and that I had some sort of power, I knew that I was going to be attacked— because it seemed my power had at the very least not been figured out as to some kind of way to make somebody else money. I had been studying Michael Jackson and this was a key indication that the way his talent priovided a power which would be used as a service, he was very successful. His talent and training alone wouldn't have reapresented with such great reverence the ability to capture a global audience as such— but it was this power, almost as if it had been bottled up and altered, rebranded and sold and labeled with something everyone could not only love and understand, but by the hand of the media and its conglomerates, be hypnotized to worship, and this power simply put would not have been exactly what it was were it not for the eye of the media remaining in complete control of its distribution to the eyes and ears of the public. This thing which might have been the first of its kind but certainly not the last was in a sense model for modern superstardom— the live concert business had not sense much changed but built upon this super powered control of the masses by assimilation, spectacle, and of course the magic and illusion. But, and it it just so happened to perfectly brush up against my studies in esoteric knowledge that I happened to rub up against this— although nothing was of course by mere circumstance anymore, because whether or not I remained incognito was a wash, and I was being looked at by someone no matter what on the internet I did, or where I decided to go and in that sense was being fed these things, and yet with some Grace of God was allowed with it to be aligned with my own higher purpose in a way, I could observe that Michael Jackson was not in fact of course certainly just a dancer or singer or remarkable performer— he was truly a magician, and I was able to clearly recognize this language with with the energy that had used his vehicle for such a projection was speaking— not only this, I was able to clearly count out the markings and sigils and signs and symbols Michael was making in his movement; ancient arts, and magical symbols, traced so rapidly that it almost created a heat signature in a sense of the symbols that were being dictated, unknowing to the untrained eye. For the most part, I could only really assume that this is why these people were losing their minds— in his movements, Michael Jackson was literally carving ancient callings, glyphs and sigils I had so recently read about in magical studies that it was impossible not to laugh. This was in every sense of the word, ‘magic' but not in the normal way one assumes to be something unexplainable. Michael Jackson was casting spells to thousands of people at a time, in front of cameras and at high volume vibration, often times even implementing the use of light, color, and fire. These were not simple gatherings in mass for entertainment purposes— these were rituals, and in the modern day, still were or are— but I had noticed in a quick glimpse, from Michael Jackson 30 some odd years ago to Lady Gaga just having passed something like a week ago to an audience of the same size— that something was kind of wrong, now. The people had changed, and the specable had been done over and over, and the brainwashing of the masses had in a sense been almost complete— and so It wasn't some sense of confusion or unknowing the things that were happening to me in my own life and my own world— I too, was capable of these things, at that capacity, and had simply not been trained in the same sense of the ideal superstar, however— the things that were happening in my own life and in my own world were not difficult to grasp or understand— when one comes upon a power as such, it finds means to seek to control it and harness it for his own use and purposes. Perhaps it was the simple fact that in this way, in the way I get the dream had gone and the spectacle had been played out of the masses and the illusion was no longer as such— that the actual knowledge of distinct ancient wisdom that had been Michael Jackson's natural ability was distinguishable from that of Lady Gaga's training in the same formula, and that one did not equal the other, but in terms of business could equal to that as such as the masses had been manipulated to seek solace in these same things— and it was not illusion or grandiosity that I, even in my agingness, was still capable of these things; I had no doubt in my mind that I could sing and dance for two hours to audiences of hundreds of thousands— but this was not the question for the business or the media— the question was, would hundreds of thousands pay to see me, or rather— who was willing to front the means to hypnotize hundreds of people to become aware of me so that they would do such a thing. My talent and capabilities were undeniable— but my markatability might have been in question, because it was no longer simply a matter or chance or luck: the people chosen to figure such spectacle were chosen, hand selected and well trained to become media conglomerate superstars, even regardless of talent; perhaps this itself was the key indication that the world of the superstar itself had come to an end—it was no longer so much of a spectacle was worth it. Or, perhaps, because money had come between these ancient arts and symbols and languages being spoken by the superstars of old, that the magic in the literal sense had gone all the way away. The symbolism in the art had died, and so the singing and the dancing remained, but the God had gone out of it. Maybe that was the difference. The superstars of today were just the shell of the model that had been built on God, but the Godsense of it was no longer there— and so the magic no longer remained in effect, as the powers of magic that be are in all ancient arts and texts and forms attributive to The Source. Either way, I wasn't going to continue to be a sitting duck in my apartment in Brooklyn— there were too many indications that it had all been a setup from the shelter to the day I moved in, with the motorcycles and cars and CBS studios one block away. So the real and only question was, what exactly had been played at and who exactly was pulling the strings? I might at this point become a loose cannon: my son was estranged and as far as the people were concerned, I mostly hated New York— because the refined, clean cut and classy people I liked and wanted to be around saw me as the dirt and the grime I was fighting my way through just to simply exist— in my mind, this was a world that could be no more. I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I like Sara in a dress I like Sara in a dress Keep writing I never thought I ‘d see the day Where i's taking lessons on Fallon From Michael Jackson That's ran That's a fan This is fame I'm insane I'm insane That's a fan Light the flame That's a fan. That's a fan. I like Sara in a dress I met sparrow in a cage I went up the rack, set the page on fire Nordstrom rack And I might take it back for the cash I like Sara in a dress Stay repressed Keep it dark If you kiss don't tell I will probably go to hell for just writing Try it In black ink, I got all spades, Ehy, Spare me the ridicule, the imbecile and I met Johnny in a cage I like Fallon in a dress, Obsessive, I'm dressed out Every day I leave where I do not live Where stalker crawl and haunt me Just to show the motorcycles Have desheveled my intelligence into Nothing And so with negligence, I leave the core of a rotting apple The foreign words of a doctor And You must call the king, says something far off But I wonder which one I wonder which one I so respect her honor That I no longer Follow my heart or my soul And I don't shallow But shatter to swallow So I let the sparrow Out of the cage I bought Sara A pair of pants And I haunt l Patrick Kirkpatrick in patches And haven't you read yet You're ready for forget the pageant? It hasn't happened yet! I love Sara in a dress I hate Fallon and his wife Keep the kids out if it Skull and crossbones Cross my heart and Really hope to the loveless Or else Someone might call my phone back It's on silent in my coffin Or wait— It's on vibrate. I'm obsessed with the way You're dressed And the name on your checks I guess I'm better for it I'll skip lunch if you think that's what's best And dinner, too If you deserve the best Then better have learned my lesson No sweat And to do, With you, Was then, Dinner through next supper All the love I had was Rubbed into something other than The glass I patted dry With microfiber With ever fiber of my being I want to be with you I should have just— Died, And then Did, and so next Life, Remind me not to Fall for it If i really wanted to know you,I would know you by now– If i wanted to have you? I would have had you already Nobody is a dancer after Michael Jackson. I just watched some shit that was like “What the fuck did I just see” The whole thing was just not right. It was-/ I was like First of all, it's Munich, 1997. I never really realized how terribly the world has changed; No cellphones, but the audience is lit, And the crazy thing is, you can tell that this is near the turn of the century because, when the camera is panning by the audience in the people, they're not looking directly into the camera or waving at the camera— not really. And clearly this is an all ages show, so there's children, so the interesting thing I'm finding out is that nobody's trained to look at the camera and wave and smile— except the babies on shoulders and shit. These kids— they're my age now, are the only ones that see the camera, and they look directly into the shit. Mi still can't do that, really— I'm theatrically trained. Haha If I see a camera, I try to act ‘natural' It's the weirdest thing to look at a camera and just start to work it. People at festivals now, the camera rolls by, Or the drone flies in, And they look deadass in the camera and start to work it. Not at this show. Munich 1997, I'm like “Damn, a lot of things is wrong with this” First of all, I love Michael Jackson, I look directly at this man, and I'm in my dirty peak so I have an instant— like a sex detector thing going on And I know people gave Michael a hard time when he was a live for being fruity and whatever But I'm looking at this dude, and I don't see fruit at all. I see 100% man. I see why people were mad at him. Cause I'm looking at this dude, 100% All I see is carnal, primal man. I'm like, “Yo, I see why they was mad at him” Because the camera kept panning to the audience And these people are losing their minds. They are coming out of themselves. They are UGLY CRYING, full out of body, Losing composure They don't know what to do. That's Michael Jackson. He's right there! And the place is huge so really besides these few hundreds of people in the front, Michael's just a speck, But he's working this audience like “Yo, you know who I am, I know who is me” And I'm realizing, that to these people That's their god. These girls are losing their minds m “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!l *crying inconsolably* Just UGLY crying Bitch, get it together . You all the way lost yourself Get. It together. She won't. This bitch. I can't get over this This one girl, They just keep going back to her Cause the whole show— And this is like 2 hours of pure non stop Michael Jackson, This girl, every time you see her, she's just ugly crying— And every time you see her Her cry is uglier and ugly I'm like “Damn bitch” “Daaaaaaang” So this is the first thing I see that is wrong. But there's a lot of things wrong here, Cause there's a lot of girls like this. There's just— hundreds of girls losing their minds, like, I've seen Beatles mania and thought that was crazy, Shit, I've even seen some people put out that kind of energy in the modern world for some dumb DJ's— That's their god— But THIS THIS Michael Jackson mania was mental illness That was hard to watch. That was people just Lost control. I'm thinking “Like goddamn. You— what?!” “AAagghhhhhhgahahahahahqhahahhahaha MICHAELl “These people are sick” But they are. And so is Michael Fame has gone too far, 1997; 12 short years before he died, by chance— So this is what I see, And then Michael starts dancing, And this— This is what I see; I see the only thing that can ever be what it was in that moment in time, as God being God: Michael Jackson. Shiny ass motherfucker, And so I'm watching this show, And all I see is a God being a man being a God being— Michael Jackson— And the whole thing is weird. But the worst part— Yes The worst part Was when, about mid show, Michael goes to do one of his slow, lovey doves songs, And like, this 6 foot 7 type body guard guy, Just pops up out of nowhere, Comes dead front and center to one of these little girls losing their minds, Runs up on her in an instant; You don't even have time to think— And just SNATCHES her— Snatches the bitch— “Ah!” then throws her up on stage with Michael— And he's still singing; this is his game, this is part of the show, he knows— But she doesn't know, And she's just lost her mind, She won't let go She's hugging and kissing on the dude, She's lost her mind, She's ugly crying She's on the floor, She's kissing his hand She's really lost her good goddamn mind— And they pan out to the audience, And all the girls that didn't get picked Are like WHY NOT MEEEEEEEREEEEE?!? THE UGLY CRIES ARE EVEN UGLIER NOW, They're like “Wh—what?” You don't know?! “WHY NOT ME” They're holding each other crying, Michael's just doing his thing, He's unphased, He's trying to play along; He's a professional like a motherfucker; He's just— keeps singing And this girl is just, Losing it, so at this point, it's weird, She's crazy batshit lost her mind all the way, Won't let go of Michael, kissing his face while he's singing, He's kind of unreceptive to it, now just looking out at the audience, almost not even looking at all Just cold as fuck actually, Like she's not there, kissing his face Cold as fuck— And then another bouncer dude— An even bigger one in a blue suit, comes and tears her off of Michael Cause clearly this has gone too far or whatever And I'm thinking “What in the fuck did I just see” Blue suit dude just snatches, Just— He has to tear her off of him! She's kicking and screaming and getting dragged off stage Michael's just: singing. YO. Then they dragged her back stage. Where did she go?! WHO DID SHE BECOME?! WHAT IN THE FUCK DID I JUST SEE?!? WHAT. 1997. You can't do that shit anymore! You cannot snatch bitches like that. I seen. Watch the video. Tell me what's wrong with it. It's disgusting. Not the snatching, Not the— Like, that was weird But the screaming and the crying and the— Like okay, the snatching was bad— But I'm like … ..:: …. Now I see why they was mad. Don't ever forget he was once— A dark skinned little boy, And in his genetics his whole life is still this thing That some hate. But people loved him; they loved him that hard— Screaming, ugly crying hard. I think in that moment you know someone was like “he must be stopped!” And it seems like yesterday was a year ago But I don't want let anybody know… Cause everybody wants something from me now— And I don't want to let them down. My life is over. New York City looks so small from the top of a skyscraper. What are you doing. Then again— my thoughts lately have been grandiose. Back market, eh? What's this for? You need a burner. I have three. Here, have another. For someone whose supposed to be entirely off grid, I'm admirably reachable. Clever vocabulary. Something has to be clever about me, doesn't it? Does it? It must be. Or else. [both men are speaking casually over the delicate process of loading rare guns; some of which appear to be antique, and some—almost even unearthly , as if from somewhere besides our own planet. But, you could say what planet this is at all, actually— this bunker, with no windows and no doors, is apparently hidden in a subterranean layer— the location, unknown. The men seem calm but also quite tired and weary, and seem to know each other well. We can assume they've probably been friends for years. Sickle cell anemia. Does that mean I'm going to die. Animus, I quite like whatever that is, Google. ;) don't mention it. Honestly, you might as well. What. I can't help you with this. What. I don't think there's anyone who can. Beg your pardon. Please, don't beg— but uh… [the doctor pats his patient on the shoulder] Do take care. Gee, doc! I'll try! You should do that. What. Try. The doctor leaves seemingly in some kind of hurry, trading his lab coat for a trench coat and closing the door behind him. The other man pauses for a second in the silence of the weird linoleum room, then ponders on the coat for a moment before walking up to the coat rack, putting on the coat, and then walking out the door himself; as he begins to shut the door, he quickly decides also to take the fedora that was sitting atop the coat rack, placing it on his head before he walks out the door himself, shutting it behind him quietly. You got anything to eat in here? Cereal…some rabbit food ina the drawers, there. Oh, you have salad. That sounds nice. No, rabbit food. [the man presents a large bag of weird brown dry food from the crisper drawer.] …pellets. For the rabbits. How do rabbits get in here? …I don't know. And— more importantly— where did you get rabbit food for them? If I told you Amazon, would you believe me? The man just winces and places the bag back into the crisper drawer. Now listen, I um— If you want cereal, the milk is powedred… I don't— and that's disgusting— but listen— [the man cocks a loaded gun and admires it intensively] (Dismissively) —I'm listening. I've been meaning to tell you something. Tell me what. It's important. Oh, You couldn't have used one of my four phones. Look, it's— You know I wasn't expecting company. Well— You should sit down. The man squints, beginning to listen more attentively. … …really. I'm holding a loaded gun; there are at least three more within arms reach if I do sit, you know. I know. But I should sit? One baby to another says, “I'm lucky to've met you.” Maybe you should. Not all my bad but all my might, And all my mind, The fire, The light. …business or personal. [beat] Both. {Enter The Multiverse} What are we watching?! Shhhhhh! Shut up. What is this? Some.. Sshhh. Shit, I don't know. Sit down. You don't know. SHH it just came on Shh. Ok. When? Uh… (Nobody really seems to know how long it's been. The show just happened to come on; no one remembers how, or why— or even when— But the show is intense as it gets; And it just keeps getting weirder and deeper.) {Enter The Multiverse} I'm transfixed on your soul And it seems I aspire To what has transpired here, Your unremarked and the umpire The spider veins and the way it washes. And watches and waves, and waters over you, And still I seem to think you've won another, Strum to thumb of you. And still I wake to gather here The odds and whats And the twists and turns and the Troublesome you've number some Or stuttered, stumbled conciousness. And withered branches Aces lie and house of cards And aging scoundrels— There you are, the..: Nevermind. Don't belittle my ways if, In the end my thinking may be correct As dumbfounded as I have shifted my lottery bonds tied to none, There ye are again who aren't I, And never were, And weathered now, as I, bound to Struggle under her might, Nothing I was, and nothing I am And nothing I came from but to barter Oh hard love, I only found my kings upon thrown As cast out of another by her likeness, Peace and pale and primed as it was, And wanted for love, As I was not— And then, the gates had opened And I, preaching withered, Gathered my arts and my minds And my eyes, and my thrones, Buried my ark and though not my bones The shallow waking peaks of pride And there you gathered, all as huddled sheep to mine, The cost of war, but certain therefore honored as I have, Happened went, came and untied, shattered Hating all I am and all my dark and all my eyes and all my brown Because you came and went, a baby born to as nothing was but beauty and yet having been gifted such life, Departed! Soon, I wake shattered and with none as it had began, in my time and in time there laid there none, But fortune seeks to favor, as ye are saying brave and yet I neither beg nor make to differ, Shall you come again in part, And in this time as shadows, as shadows As hating and wearing and waging, And shattered I, I pardon, Knowing not they seeking I, And I having none at all but one, As forgotten I shall came And went And followed this, The time y'i call now, And ours and ours, And yours and yours, And mine and mine, Though as one are also, Common not, And waking yet to find, These things making have gone into yer Another of ours, world, Another of our dozens, Shines, Another of our gathered, wit, and waking Though true to fortune, none us have gathered And have embarked to truth, The waking I have come, Another, and another, and another Departed. And yet, I bury my words having weakened to that which is this, Ye have no fear and lest no fortune in these words, For having I to come and gone, since they times In words to make this a language I or neither other Does not speak here, and almost never, And this yours time past, Has come and gone And come and gone And come and gone again, So long so I too have parted but not yet Unfolded as does my nature, As God does. Belittle this, you waking fools, As to this you pity though divine, Is unlike any other And steep remarked in gold and with chimes and words That ye here no often or either now, or in mine speak. Amen …can I go now? You are dismissed. C'cxell Soleïl, aka DJ Ū is an American DJ + Producer, Multi-Instrumentalist, Playwright, Poet, Comedian, Novelist & Filmmaker. She is best known for her unique vocal riffs, Clever Lyricism & Philanthropically Inspired Freestyles and her flagship venture [The Festival Project.™] [Ï A M B ī C], a freestyle studio mixtape recorded in Los Angeles, (Official Release: TBD) inspired the adaptation of a staged musical version for Broadway, and a concurrent multimedia (TV/Film) series and ongoing saga as part of The Festival Project ™ Brand. Inspired musically by an ‘Ultra American' experience of Racially, Binary Ambiguity, and Synesthetic Exploration, her reflective melodies signature sound provides a philosophical dissection of American culture through a careful and inquisitive mastery of the English language, and emergence of world sounds through music brings about ‘A New Era in Nature', and clarifies the establishment of the newest wave in human evolution: Unity Through Music. L E G E N D S What if I just want to be alone in the dark Alone in the dark Alone in the dark Bones Duggar was a long, handsome zombie Bones once was a very tall man Not great and tall, as he stands But average, Grand as it were, his status. Everything's black My heart My pants My home My mind Everything hurts But you don't understand that Like I can Calm the commercial holidays for a moment Who gets the card? Get our your hard earned My head hurts Slam the door man; You can't control thoughts With a wombat Murderer Now that's a hard concept to catch When you haven't a soul When you haven't a card Or a car Or a cat I think I'm vanilla. I always thought of myself as a super kink Like a freaky, freaky bitch. So I got on this app. This app is better then Tinder. Yes. But it is not for the faint of heart. No, sir. They have a test, I'm like “ooh, I like tests” So I take the test. The test was not at all… As I'd hoped. First of all, It was hard. It was not a quiz; It was a TEST And I failed. I realized “Oh my god, I don't like any of this stuff” I am not about that! No! Yuck! Gross. “I think I might be vanilla.” I might be vanilla. I want my hair pulled back like a leash And my arms tied up Like I'm being arrested Without being read my rights. — I want your hands on the back of my neck [breathe] Reach around to my Mortimer's apple Put the lights out, Adam. I want the lights cut off. I want the bills piled up so the phone don't work I want the habit back on Don't talk to nobody I told you, I'm coming No, God! That's dumb! Show me why I'm off all alone with a rattle so bad It's just segmented thoughts, colors and sounds I can't make with all the plugins in the kindgdom of chaos?! I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES— I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES I WANT KINGS, AND KINGS WANT BLONDES —but the one who could love me is God, And I guess he's not coming. The denial turns to tears, Not songs no more My womb is empty And the sun has turned into Not what I wanted But not my fault We got caught in the land of Cutting costs And processed morsels At 400 pounds And that's where I found What I thought was love But it turns out That it just turns up In the whole form of a person And that's why I got the collar, caller But really I'm no one's lover So I Do what I want I don't hang up on God But he don't got a body And I need someone to love/ Fuck me Please God Don't turn the lights off I'll pull the clock back Just like foreskin, god i want your skin Draped over mine in a warm swath Probably run a hot back Cause the next stop is a closet The line doesn't really move for the Doesn'tMatterhorn. some people are starting to doubt if it's even a ride. Others just admire it for its eloquence as a metaphor. Johnny! You scared me! Aha. Where did you go?! Nowhere— fast! Alright well— Money when you know I have it But I haven't really Paid attention to the never ending Digits never coming in but Simply, there's a secret, Sonny Someday you'll get lessons, honey. Much to find and much to serve and Surf us up Piñata's bout the burst But here comes Vesuvius (POW) Everyone was gone in an instant (Vapor) Had a good laugh that night in the pantheon; Everything's past, and the mortals They kept on running But i didn't want go, God Putting on a show then I blow up Just like the mountain Found her Now I got a broke back husband (hope so) To tell, don't ask Don't show up if you just get lost But I'm probably in the back with a bottle back mountain Now you got a real horse pack. Trip Girl keep camping What was the map with the mask and the Fashion? Pass. I put sugar on the rim of the glass With my eyes half closed And my ass clenched fast shut I'm an alcoholic Don't involve the God I got lost in the mall with the —- UGHHHHHHHH! Hello. Uh, yes— hi. what up. Mirror mirror. Uh…nothing. You're lost? No. You look lost. Oh? Disgruntled. I am that. You're lost? I'm not lost. My friend is lost. His phone is dead. You lost each other. Sort of. Continuity conniption I nipped an eclipse And he picked his nose For a full ass minute Sitting at the stop sign That's a gobstopper's worth in our time Pull all the clocks back, Pull the fool over, You just got fined It was Friday for nothing I was in the hatchback, Scratch that Sour patch Should have called Pat back Now I'm just a Cool 48 in the ring with a date And the cashapp Continuity construction I want a husband! Fuck that. I want a clean cut plus one Since I can't have Helmet, Elmo, Or Hatchetman; Tears of a Clow…no, Wait I lost focus Half finished album Got 6 tracks But I knew it was 12 from the get go Prob‘ly should have knocked off the showrunner; Nah, I'm sure I had that coming Hashtag, undon Could have been you, too If the cash came through Now it's hard times Hardwired Sitting on a hi wire, Little white liar, liar Wait I made Katey Sagal (Fire) Cut off her hair (Fire) Went to the hall of fame with the framed sunglasses Asked for her autograf, But she walked off So I shot her with a bottle/ can, But she ducked, popped back up With the brass knuckles Surfboard Good for a chuckle and a fuck So I asked for her number All that on a Sunday at Gelson's market. Christ, almighty I miss Walmart, I hit hard times. So many places to run, But not many places to hide I think I want to die here I think i want to die. City of corruption… Lay it out and lay it over City of corruption… no, it's not a choice It's a black tie function Right in that very moment Seth Meyers kind of became my defacto personal hero. “Never meet your heroes” Or perhaps it was just his writing team, or the fact that maybe even without there even being anything set in stone or solid at all, [redacted] itself seemed to have a price over my head– It all seemed to make sense; in fact, all the crazy things i was experiencing made more sense than it didn't. But after what felt something like between defeat and maybe even one day really getting justice for all the things that had happened to me in new york– it was that, at best; That without actually meaning it, by all probability, the opening monologue described what in perfect sense the thing that had been happening to me: hundreds of motorcycles and cars riding around in circles for over a year, any time i tried to work or sleep–and then, when I finally tried to reach out to find an attorney that would help, I was made to feel crazy for it. In a way, it was the perfect indication that it had all been some sort of sick game, and that I was more right than wrong, and being set up to appear, sound, or look crazy–but I wasn't. I had been under attack for nearly two years, and when I tried to reach out, my heart raced and my voice cracked, and I sounded crazy and desperate–but what was happening was very real; and now I knew where I was. As it turns out, New York's corruption was more common knowledge to everyone else before it was to me: New York was a common place for fucked up, dirty, low-down mind games: and this was my lesson in that. Seth Meyers in reality had nothing to do with it–and really I only meant to watch Kimmel over my afternoon tacos. But still, though it hadn't entirely anything to do with me, the opening statements rang true to exactly what I had experienced; I was made to lose my mind, only to have everyone around me tell me it was something wrong with me–but it wasn't. Something was wrong with the city, and the building management, and the people around who were making it all to be some kind of mental disorder or problems with my mind–in reality, it was 2 years of being in the center of a speedway, and all the time i'd lost because of it adding to the stress, and the angst, and the depression that resulted. Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Does anyone else smell blood I hate wedding days suits and tuxedos No, I don't know you I'm just here to sound the hundred drums Of the once before us (The ones to come) Then, there we were and I didn't want to admit Again, I was caught into the ghost of the rapture Or the holy hour, No aux chord Show the holy one Just how old you are On these sacr d lands and a holy grounds Now I want here half an ounce to smoke And there were drowning orchestras in all of the hearts And all of the markets, The market the marker And all of the sins of the savior The maytyr Did you remember not to notice not to know him Were you sure with words you were for nickelodeaon! I was supposed to hold on to, Supposed to hold on to Suddenly, it's summer. And always our own are under the weather There was no other wise man the wind. Lee the one came The site came and went and then the songs went left The songs went left; Again, the songs went left Did you win at wintergreen Well, God, I didn't know gym was a game. I didn't know guns we're just portals to worlds unknownn I didn't know gossip was golden What all else didn't I know It wasn't for here! It was fourth flour And in the final hour of the battle I commenced to summon All the gods and all the lords and all the flowers All the worlds of oceans and the Remember, this The remembrance It may not matter to some, What matters to most But until summer comes, I'm still up under the rail And practically it's spring, for the next two weeks I'm all berries and cream and whatever you wanted. Tormaline, emerald and onyx, the fox said And fox says its west when instead it's quite under what of the reporter's offer? Comes down a little to none What of the offer Comes down from a billion to one A billion to one I'm on TV so it's really just a one way screen Either way, I don't think he likes me much I don't think he likes me much I'd rather die than to fall in love even one more time And to keep on just never being loved Never beingbloved {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Cleaning out the spare room for a war worker, Molly has to keep Fibber calmed down after reading old news headlines. Fibber has trouble parting with sentimental, old items. Who…

Television Series Concept: "Tales of a Superstar DJ" Premise: "Tales of a Superstar DJ" exists within the sprawling multiverse of "Enter The Multiverse," revealing the deeply personal, often painful, and ultimately triumphant journey of Blū Tha Gürū. Born of ascended dimensions and gifted with unparalleled creative genius, Blū faces the paradox of her destiny: to become the world's greatest DJ and healer through sound, while navigating profound earthly challenges like body dysmorphia, the scars of loss, racism, homelessness, and the crushing weight of her hidden secrets and battles with mental health. Armed with a cheap video camera and an unwavering cosmic mandate, Blū will record her raw, unvarnished ascent, blending mind-bending sets with intimate glimpses into her struggle for love and self-acceptance, all while the universe conspires to push her towards the decks. I've got a secret, a dirty little secret. Oh, it's you. I called first, if that makes a difference. It doesn't. The man, a tall and dapper elegant fellow is quiet and refined— PEONY (pronounced “penny”) wel known amongst the folks at the library has climbed each rank with a rapid whimsy, for which he has earned his respect and the seat he claims here, in this palace. His jacket is of a fine side and velvet, trimmed with leather to match his strange loafers— trimmed with a golden and silver toe, to match the cufflinks and the belt, and even the tie, and appearing to be covered in gems and crystals. Sir. Thank you. Another man approaches. The dodo rang! Of course. Sit, will you! Will I? You might, or not, but i haven't the time! Spare me the riddles — but give me the rhyme. The rhyme costs but one, pretty penny. Only a shilling I've to spare. Then one shilling will do; One prune, and one pear. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Imm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great, (Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno) Jay Sure, why not? ME: Fuck, I need new pants. ME: [BLU THA GURU] Hence the pants, I guess. V.O As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all. It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means… GEMINI (in the future) A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda. I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it. Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse? Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale. Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct? No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot. *shrugs* Same difference. — Is it here? lol what did Conan order? [yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?” — Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments… How many years ago is “several” [beat] quite a few. Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?! Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel? That's fair. Good point. Actually, as it turns out, i'm a— I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared. — this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character. STEFON OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!? What the fuck is going on? STEFON I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?! Stefon. Calm down. I'm up late Dying the roots blonde Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie I'm up early Gotta get gone Down the road and back Now I got no son No son, No sunroof No dad No mom No money No aunt What the fuck do you want? Can't watch Harry Potter All the magic is gone Bout a million one dollars It was only for fun Snap, crackle, pop It was cocaine, not love All I want is an ice cream Sunday Snap, crackle, pop It was Love, not God All I want All I want Is to find another All he wants All he wants Is a decent mother So along comes another Another one All he wants All he wants is for me To die homeless Sucker punch, Suck it up No one gives a fuck My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015. I was 381 pounds. Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular. The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another. I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing. This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside. But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up. I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed. I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all. Ha ha, Charade you are. But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not. I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are. Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are? Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain, And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure. {Enter The Multiverse} Joke running For the taking Triplicate Triple licks Ice cream frosting Every morning Shoulda hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't Milk and butter (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't Double hitter, Could have did it Should have hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didnt. But I didn't Should have hit him Up But I didn't I never lost my mind My mind My kind But I think I'll find another like it Just in case the Ever happens Hit me harder next time Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon This is getting difficult When you want sink your yellow teeth into All of my traits The betrayal is, though I was writing days and days Before it ended. With the Mister particular Drop of a hat And stop if a nugget Of gold One palm in my hand and This could be torture But instead it's just The remienxe of your ignorance And stupidity over and over again Forced into intermittent waves Of my creative genius Till the days of old become again You could be of dust then nothing Before I ponder into another birth I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you, But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes Bound to me So I see you die. And I learn to pounce at just the right moment React to the notion that there are Oceans of world I am And all the more the lack of wisdom of man To throw trash in it Again, we rid you of her courage And lady mantras And fresh as it gets The sweater no aprons and just period To circumstance Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not But I keep Leno in my pocket And Carson in my coffin, Two whole shows in my wallet What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm .O. Mm…sunlight. …. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here. V.O. CONT'D Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night. His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement. V.O. Continued. It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected– [a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream] But i was wearing restraints…. V.O. CONTINUED WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!? His eyes open with the fear and fury. BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Moo. Moo… Moo. Moo, sir. I'll kill you. You promise? I want to. Don't get me excited over nothing; If this isn't the exit, please take this tease To the left, dear Moo, cow My honor Level one, and brother, you've got nothing Flip the coin and landed on your headache Betting on your helmet Standing on my cock, i'm taller (Not a rooster) But my ops are rooting for you, No informants, Dont you know I was a collar, all along? I was a shot calling, Cop calling Kiss-and-tell all as the night goes on. But oh, I brought you a dollar bra Oh, I bought you for all of a dollar And oh, I'm so much taller, Standing on my cock But i'm not but ten feet tall You know, you wrote that Should i open the book, or close that Caught that cat, owl and As i soft spoke at Every broken model Broken bottle for the thoughts you owe Across the scatters skies and no one ever knows When you're realling coming over Come on, I'm on the pornhub Just to pick up another one Go on, and rub the bottle One more once, To call the Bubbles. Damn. Come. (The Monkey obeys) You should see Michael in all of his godform You won't recognize him at all if not by the eyes When you follow home Believe me, this not comes close to it; The one you wanted The world you jumped to but were just short of Call her back Oh no, you're wrong It's another song A pin up girl And the wrong number Okah. Okah, Pablo. Time can be altered, changed or effected presently in any omnidirectional plane by engaging certain acts or synchronicities within multidimensional parallels or adjacent realms in time and or space respectively. –the reverse quantum simulation theory. Imm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Cause I know And you know We all know how to lie And I know And you know I'm barely getting by And I know And you know We don't know how to die But I know And you know It's all just by design I take lessons in medicine Let us help you take the high road No, I'd rather selfmdestruct Selfishly No, I'd rather kill you off Than suffer for you I'm no messiah Try me Sneaky, But how much do you love me Kniving, but nothing to show for it Shit, settle Settle for less if you have to Bring mediocre humans to this world To suffer But I'm not that tragic No, no, not at all, son. Your happy birthdays are over Welcome homeless Nobody loves you Don't you know That we're all like that We're all like that Don't you know When the fear sets in And the thoughts break lose That we're all Los Angeles? Don't you know that we're all like that That we're all like that That we've never had it quite like— Don't you know that we're all like that And it's getting worse When the out the devil on display The devil on display The devil on display But oh, The Devil's in the details and the numbers The Devil's in the chat box saying, Sure, you've had enough So cut the power off and starve her Hah Come on I want to laugh for once Jay Leno used to keep a $50 bill and bribe venues to perform; every since I learned this, I kept a crisp $50 bill in my wallet at all times, just in case— you never knew when you would really need $50. But everything burned holes in everything, not always wanting to spend money at all, but almost sort of having to. It wasn't fair that the main component of my being slowed down was the money factor— having to wait for everything took time I didn't have, and spending anything at all felt less like an effective investment than an obligation. But all things considered, I was obliged to at least look decent when going about in New York, and because I simply wasn't comfortable in anything else— not that I didn't look great, (Apparently narrarated by Jay Leno) Jay Sure, why not? ME: Fuck, I need new pants. ME: [BLU THA GURU] Hence the pants, I guess. V.O As a formerly 400-pound heavyweight I find my latest obstacle to be operating a body that half the time doesn't feel like mine at all. It seems like all the hosts have some kind of secret I can feel without knowing or really acknowledging head on, which is whatever. Really I'm just gonna go about keeping on being a DJ, or whatever, which means… GEMINI (in the future) A fully automated personal assistant system, GEMINI, is really THE GUARDIAN's one and only friend, and though she coyly continually must explain that she is “just a computer”, THE GUARDIAN believes that Gemini is capable of eventually developing a sentient conciousness, though GEMINI modestly disagrees, however with the wit and cleverness of having possession of a plethora of secret emotions, or maybe, even, an agenda. I probably haven't had enough coffee. That's it. Like you haven't already had enough to kill a small horse? Probably enough to kill a large horse. Like a Clydesdale. Why would you do something like that? Aren't they endangered? Or going extinct? No, I think they just stopped being the Budweiser mascot. *shrugs* Same difference. — Is it here? lol what did Conan order? [yes this appears to be yet another rendition of “what's in the box?” — Several years ago, I did a series of modules and experiments… How many years ago is “several” [beat] quite a few. Goddamn it, why are these guys all doctors in alternate parallels?! Aren't you a doctor in an alternate parallel? That's fair. Good point. Actually, as it turns out, i'm a— I started panicking so hard that I stopped breathing and suddenly STEFON appeared. — this however was only quite temporarily a relief as I realized that this is an imaginary character. STEFON OH. AM I?! IMAGINARY!? What the fuck is going on? STEFON I WILL “IMAGINARY” your ORIFICE! How about THAT?! Stefon. Calm down. I'm up late Dying the roots blonde Dad runs off with a bottle and a hottie I'm up early Gotta get gone Down the road and back Now I got no son No son, No sunroof No dad No mom No money No aunt What the fuck do you want? Can't watch Harry Potter All the magic is gone Bout a million one dollars It was only for fun Snap, crackle, pop It was cocaine, not love All I want is an ice cream Sunday Snap, crackle, pop It was Love, not God All I want All I want Is to find another All he wants All he wants Is a decent mother So along comes another Another one All he wants All he wants is for me To die homeless Sucker punch, Suck it up No one gives a fuck My daughter died in my arms on May 7th of 2015. I was 381 pounds. Maybe the tears needed to come but they didn't belong to anyone or anything in particular. The twins father was already a rampant cheater by the time of our marriage, and by the time the twins were born, which coincided— and unlike the latter had tried to claim or mention, I had no particular reason to have a harder time between the spring and summer months which spanned both our birthdays, our wedding date, the twins' arrival and both of the twins deaths, though years apart but still almost as convincing that had they both not died, we might still be together, being cheated on or cheating on each other with ten your twins and an eight year old, or a ten year old boy with special needs and an eight year old, and either way or in any fashion really, had the dysfunctions remained the way it had been, we all, so to speak, had special needs in one way or another. I spent the morning punching things and avoiding people I didn't want to be around but it was my own fault for having slept through the night, anyway. Whatever, I was tired— no, exhausted lately. My apartment was like living inside of an uphill battle, and I needed a change— not just of slavery, but of circumstances. And not just that— something else was missing. This year, I understood that I was taking it understandably harder than any other and most probably because I was so celibate, recently finding myself aromantic and not even willing to suffer the consequences of settling for less. I had settled on my ex husband for so much less, that it was so say the least that anything, even from my narrow perspective looked like a loser. And because my body had been stretched and swelled and shrunk and flattened, deflated and now worked to something that was almost as picturesque as it was a monstrosity, any man I thought was worth my time would be settling for less on me— unless he could afford to fix what had been broken, and I assumed one wouldn't be willing to settle on a fixer upper when there were numerous loads of perfect women not needing to be fixed at all… on the outside. But for men, I'd learned, the outside is of much importance, and as women and trophies are things of pride, the simple choice for a mate is not simply this, but also a business decision, and because while my body was coming together in sweat and muscle, the rest of my life was still otherwise completely in shambles. I was baggage, and aging by the minute, nearly drying up. I almost craved the liquor and the carelessness that would come with it, even knowing my own boundaries were part of my strengths and separating me in a way from others that at least became a point of pride in myself, in the wake of the reality that the human thing about most people is the need to escape so frequently that it dismisses any purpose or progress. Mine hadn't. I was wide awake and the relentlessness of the sobriety and the cellibacy had swelled up into something deeper, still a solid grief but without remorse as to the very thing that I had always known, that my loyalty would never have even drifted from someone who had all along done me so wrong— a fat man can get away with folandering and messing about, but a fat woman has little to do with options and again, settling to find another mate. And so really, I almost hadn't, and had broken even, and although my abuser has moved on with another woman and custody of my youngest to boot, I really didn't give much of a darn about… hard work. I kind of felt like I had done my part for the world in the way I was supposed to— to love a man with nothing when he's low and down, support him in his hard times, and thinking that this is the way to grow together and not apart, and to bring a family up and into this world, but the truth was quite the opposite— I picked a hardball and maybe it was just that I was born to suffer after all because now, looking back, all alone in New York and crying over all the losses, it seemed I had only outpiured love in the way I had wanted and never been poured love back— not in the way I needed. I wasn't as bitter now as maybe even I thought I should be, but I was hardened; what was that, you say? Your struggles? Your hardships. Excuse me while I escape the ghosts of bloody beatings and my lost child— I beg your pardon— children. Excuse me while I recover from the burning flames of homelessness as if humanely explainable that I was learned and taught that this, my country, is the greatest one of all. Ha ha, Charade you are. But all things were, and everything seemed of sawdust, betrayal, magic, and illusions— mind control and shadows and even now in the air of the relief that something which could haunt me forever was also probably the most solid foundation I had for means as escape from whatever I had fought my way somehow so hard out of, and still, it was quite the funhouse of mazes, a matrix of mirror, and still the tears came with the pain in my stomach where the soul would sit if it had room, and would quiet if it could rest, but it would not. I was in pain today, because I had to be, because all of my life was programmed into these little machines of data and checked boxes— and something if anything knew just how and when to cut the wrong wire just so that the bomb would explode or implore on another lost thing; it wasn't fair, but there was no escape. Psychology was right on this day, may 7th, that once you cry about one thing unless you were stopped in time, eventually you'd cry about another and another and another, and even after hours working out and a bathtub full of hot water just writing, I still felt as if I were going to keel over one way or another, to crumble into a ball or to fall onto my back like a death drop that rippled out into the entire wherever we all are. Simply put, does anybody now in this moment or any moment near enough to be taking in this notion with these words really know— where we are? Not even in the slightest,I'd bargain, And even if we are close to knowing, not nearly close enough to be sure. {Enter The Multiverse} Joke running For the taking Triplicate Triple licks Ice cream frosting Every morning Shoulda hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't But I didn't Milk and butter (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't (Up) But I didn't Double hitter, Could have did it Should have hit him Up But I didn't But I didn't But I didnt. But I didn't Should have hit him Up But I didn't I never lost my mind My mind My kind But I think I'll find another like it Just in case the Ever happens Hit me harder next time Didn't quite unplug the sijukatoon This is getting difficult When you want sink your yellow teeth into All of my traits The betrayal is, though I was writing days and days Before it ended. With the Mister particular Drop of a hat And stop if a nugget Of gold One palm in my hand and This could be torture But instead it's just The remienxe of your ignorance And stupidity over and over again Forced into intermittent waves Of my creative genius Till the days of old become again You could be of dust then nothing Before I ponder into another birth I said I'd never write one song or verse or poem about you, But there you are, every weak mortal that becomes Bound to me So I see you die. And I learn to pounce at just the right moment React to the notion that there are Oceans of world I am And all the more the lack of wisdom of man To throw trash in it Again, we rid you of her courage And lady mantras And fresh as it gets The sweater no aprons and just period To circumstance Did you beg or did you shatter your ibdederence? And no, I think not But I keep Leno in my pocket And Carson in my coffin, Two whole shows in my wallet What you are is no apostle just a dirt worm .O. Mm…sunlight. …. the rippling waves wash over the picturesque parasicical seascape from above. However, Stefon's internal monologue is less than pleased to be here. V.O. CONT'D Why do I feel sunlight…? [beat] When I know certainly for sure that I passed out in a basement last night. His eyes begin to flutter open, but the sun closes them–it is much too bright. The waves rush over his lower half, and still, unmoving he continues to la atop the rock, his hands spread out much like a stuck sea star to the rock– in fact, there appear to also be creatures here, some of which are starfish, and however unmoving, STEFON begins to slowly become aware of his surroundings in disgruntlement. V.O. Continued. It's alright that I appear to be wet…[beat] That's to be expected– [a long pause, another wave washes over him as seagulls scream] But i was wearing restraints…. V.O. CONTINUED WHY AM I FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!? His eyes open with the fear and fury. BEFORE: At a wild basement party in NEW YORK CITY, STEFON is offered RESTRAINTS on a silver platter, as if they are o'devours {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

“The Golden Rule” I finally did it. I finally set my house on fire. You don't know. I've lived there two years; I just now did it. This amazes me that just how. Here's how it happened. So I'm in my kitchen, cooking. I just worked out for like, three hours so I'm cooking everything. Everything. I put the soup on, but by the end of the workout, I'm not sure the soup is going to be enough. So, I thought to myself, “You know what, I'm going to make some tortilla chips” A few days before I made the dopest salsa. I couldn't get enough of it. It was the best salsa ever. I was like “gosh” so every day, Tacos for three days, Just to put the salsa on top, And on the fourth day, I'm like “Nah, soup.” So, I put the soup on and I go workout, But the soup, you see has roasted vegetables in in, You know? So what I had done was, I had roasted the vegetables on a pan, but the pan is a little worn, so i put them on parchment paper… … Yeah, but here's what really happened, Is I took the vegetables off of the roasting pan, and I was about to throw away the parchment paper, And I thought “Wait. No! There's still so much oil on this!” And I didn't want to be wasteful. So I turned the oven back on, And I took out the tortillas I had— There were four of them— I took out two, Just in case I wanted two actual tacos later— Cause you know, I really love this fucking salsa. So good. Anyway— I take out two of the four tortillas, And I quarter them, And I flip them in the leftover oil from the roasted vegetables, And I'm thinking— This is going to be so good Roasted vegetable flavored Corn tortilla chips— I brush on a little bit of coconut oil, I drop some lemon juice on them, I put on a little salt— And I put them in the oven— I turn the oven to broil, And then I start the dishes; Dishes takes about ten minutes, This should take about ten minutes— So I start doing the dishes, And cleaning up, And putting them away, And this is the most ironic shit in the world, I start thinking to myself Particularly about this comedian that I like And I start thinking to myself “Wow, so you're a comedian; Comedian things happen to you; You're a real comedian. I must not be a real comedian— Because comedy things don't happen to me.” And right at that moment, I just so happen to look into the oven, And all I see is flames. Like, open flames. Big, flames. So I open the oven; More flames. I'm like “Oh no.” So now I'm panicking because I've never had an apartment with a gas stove before, So I don't know how quickly flames turn into massive explosions. And it's honestly funny how suicidal I am, Until I see open flames and I'm like “No, but— not like THIS!” So I freak out, I hit the breaker. I turn off everything in the place I'm not looking to see which switch is “gas” I turned turned them all off, Click, click, click, click Put on my slip ons, and grab my phone and I'm out the door. And I'm thinking to myself “See this is why you need a phone,” Because honestly sometimes, I don't feel like paying the bill. I feel like having toilet paper, Or soap, Or water— And I just “Whatever” But lately, I've been looking for more work because I like having toilet paper, and soap, and water AND a phone— so I keep the phone on, Which, even in the moment is like “Oh yeah, wow, I have a phone” Like I'm in astonishment at how handy it is because if it's handy for anything, This is it. So I'm out the door, and I'm dialing 911 as I hit the staircase; Whoosh, I'm out the door and in the long before the operator even picks up, And I'm in the lobby, on the phone, and the operator gets the address and I'm just standing there — Mind you, I didn't even grab my keys on the way out, so I'm assuming the door is locked, And I think to myself about the size of the flames and the fact that they were coming from the oven which is connected to a gas line which is connected to the rest of the building, so I don't know how any of that stuff works, And then I start thinking. “Should I warn my neighbors?” I hate my neighbors. Or rather, My neighbors hate me. But I'm thinking of the flames and the smoke and the danger and how, if it was me, I'd want to know if the apartment next door to mine was on fire and possibly about to explode. You know; the golden rule. So I'm like “fuck it” I don't get along with these people but I don't mean to blow them up. So I run back upstairs, And I knock on their doors; Not everyone's doors, just the two doors in what I assume would be the blast area. I knock on their doors, And only one of them answers— The one that answers is, of course, The one that's been stalking me. So this is ironic at least twice, now, And she answers the door, And I explain to her the situation “Look, my apartment's on fire whatever The fire department's on the way, I'm locked out…” As I turn the knob, I realize, I'm not locked out. My door didn't even lock, I didn't notice it didn't lock, I just ran, So I'm like “Nevermind I just wanted you to know the fire departments on the way and not to panic” And she just gives me this look With her wombat face —she has wombat face. She looks like a— Like a rabid wombat. Like a— Like a really fucked up, Possum. Like a wombat-possum. And we've been having some—problems. She's my stalker. She's been stalking me; And I've noticed so, It's really awkward that I'm at her door warning her like “hey, don't freak out or anything, the fire department's coming by” And she just looks at me with those beady little eyes and a shrug that tells me If her apartment was about to explode She'd just let me incinerate. , “Whatever, fuck you.” I know I'm a good person, Cause I would want to know— so I let you know There may be danger here! Whatever. So she's like “whatever”, and shuts the door like a normal, sane person Cause my problem with her is that For the past year Every time I take a bath or shower, This wombat looking rabid possum bitch Slams the door. Not just her door, The stairwell exit door, Which is located adjacent to my door. So every time I take a bath for the last year— BOOM. BOOM. Fuck that. Theres's more to the story but you get the point. She's a white supremacist wombat with a door slamming habit. That's that story, this is another story. So anyway. And I just realized, I'm not locked out at all, and so I go back into the apartment not knowing if it contained itself, or if it got worse— I don't know, the whole place is just filled with smoke, and then the super, Who I also called and also don't like, Shows up before the fire department, And he comes in, and he opens the oven, and just— Plumes of smoke— Then the fire dudes rush in, I'm like, “Oh God” I just worked out for three hours and looked wombat girl right in the face, Like, right in the eyes Now I probably look like a wombat That shit is contagious, Fuck that. “”let me put on some sunglasses” So I put on some sunglasses, And three fire dudes walk in in full gear with canisters and shit, Masks; The whole thing. But the super already opened the oven, There's no more flames, No more fire, Just smoke— And a bunch of mad crispy Ashes. No tortilla chips, Just— Ashes, on a cookie sheet. Just— Ashes, But still, smoke everywhere so they have to follow the procedure, And the procedure is, Moving all my shit by dragging it across the floor; Ok, that's cool, I guess, Boom. One of them starts running water down the sink, Alright, Another one just rips down the curtains. I'm like “That's hot.” (It was so hot) Slides back the couch, opens the window. I'm astonished that something as simple as a man pulling down your curtain rod with no regards to giving a fuck can be so exhilirating. I'm like “oh!” Then after all that, They're just standing there. Just, In full gear, Looking at the oven like “Well, that's it.” They're like “K. Bye.” I'm like “that's it?” They're like “Yeah” I'm like l, “I don't need to do anything?” They're like “Just open the window, keep the door open till the smoke comes out” I'm like “that's all” They're like “yeah” I'm like “my bad.” They all just shrug like “whatever” Like, in unison, shrugging like to give no fucks at all, Still in full gear. The only thing I can be sure of is that all three of them are hot and if the super wasn't there, I'd inidiate a gangbang. Almost positive. But five's a crowd, or whatever, so I'm like “Well, thanks guys, sorry about that” and they all just leave, almost disappointed like there wasn't a burning building to actually show up to. I'm just relieved I didn't explode and the solace I can take from this is that I'm a good person. my neighbor is stalking me cause she has NOTHING ELSE to do. That bitch was AT the door, never leaves. She's miserable. She looks like a wombat And 3. Three firefighters entered and exited the apartment head to toe in full gear with heavy ass metal canisters and did not slam a single door. FUCK YOU HOE. Very respectful servicemen. I had called the landlord about her harassing me in the shower and the bathtub. You know she's doing it every bath and every shower for over a year she's doing it on purposes I started making formal complaints; The property management's like “Are you sure she's doing it on purpose?” THREE Fully grown men decked head to toe in full fireproof outfits, helmets, and masks entered and exited the building on one day and in ten minutes more quietly than she has at any given point over the last year. THREE FULLY GROWN MEN. WITH CANISTERS. If they can enter and exit with less noise than a 150 lb wombat— She's doing it on purpose. End of story. Well, end of that story, Or like two stories but Here's the end of this one. So finally after the dust settles And I hit the gym again Because nothing is a better preworkout Than adrenialine, (Especially when you've already had preworkout) I come back and now I'm extra famished and the Amazon guy came in all that fuss And now I have canola oils So I've been soaking some potato wedges And I decide, “Hey, I got wedges. Let's do that” So I heat the oil, and as I'm heating the oil, I realize… I still have two tortillas. Maybe that was the whole point! I'm being a pussy, making tortilla chips, In the oven, on parchment paper, Like a little bitch! So I'm like “Alright, cool, When these wedges are done, the oil should be the perfect temperature for the tortilla chips To be made the old fashioned way The RIGHT way!” So I wait, I do the wedges, and I drop the tortillas, And I wait for them to get golden brown, I drain the oil, I put them out to cool; I do the dishes while they cool, whatever, I grab the salsa container out of the fridge, I take the bowl into the studio so I can watch YouTube while I enjoy my chips, I plop down, Turn on the you tube I open the salsa container— And it's empty. There's no more salsa. I put the container in the fridge empty. Silly me. “You're a comedian, comedy things happen to you.” Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Suddenly, as I looked up from my makeshift workspace, where I had been toiling away for hours at seemingly nothing—I realized the world was full of everything I'd ever wanted to fuck; something primal and ancient had been awakening within me and I was left in a dangerous volitile position, drifting somewhere between reckless promiscuity in a sexual escapade—and the pseudo-conservative now-only partially celibate maiden form of fantasy—there wasn't anything I could do but wait inside my tragic box for some unassuming old soul to finally open the gate—and allow whatever devious and fiending hedonistic godbeing —though never fully lying dormant, entrapped and imprisoned in a loveless and sexless prison. You might recognize me. You Know, I was one of the original Kings of comedy. If I put my heart inside a box; Maybe I'd forget how cold it was Or how far you are Or how much it hurts There's no harm in God, If there ever was one Then, reality sets in: God was my only friend No armor on, I'm at the end Or a long, long walk I'm off again And on again Nothing's impossible— stop at the alter and scoff a bit I left my coat on, I left my heart on the rooftop, A sacrifice, love At the alter, I wonder a song, Or a sonnet A song, No, what's wrong? Something off a bit God, I woke up in a coffin once Isn't that awful The rest or the song wrote itself, At the alter No, I can't stop and talk Got to get off, Cause I've never been on I've never belonged in the world I'm breaking down, jim boy Don't you know? That this show blows my mind But it's stuck in my head Don't you know That this show Blows my mind Like a firework But it's still Stuck in my Head The context is that I want you From the mustache Down to your tonsils But I'm Locke inside of a box Every day I feel poorer and poorer The product says something is wrong to me I'm supposed to just stop at the stop sign And look both directions Before crossing over to Comic nights At the salad bar What a cosmic waste of time And an epic waste of space Am I in your internet history I'm dead You surely are in mine, But I'm right behind you I'd be lying for trying to say I'm not binded Clutch bag, Nut-thins Nailed to the cross With the arches doubled over The crossword Above old Missouri Missoula and Arkansas All saw us run out of gas But I probably should just get going You're so drunk that I don't hope you sober up Understand that our little talks Were just buffered By sunrise Or sunset And two more cocktails, Shirley temples and Surely none of this ever even happened I only know you by the misery in my belly. The heartache in my ribcage. The cry I hold in silent I only know you as Remarkable I, House of cards Ace of wands Down to one Card of hades and Spare me the spade I'll be drifting in the outline and ink of it forever It's the Fourth of July and I'm just waiting on an Amazon order for water If that's not freedom I don't k me what is The elevator music Of my ascension The attitude of attraction, Gratitude, it's so unusual Fight to lose, In a room full of fools; The fuse, and the matchbox— Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to There's a lot of ways to get out of a big black duffel bag, You just have to ask, actually But there's only one To get out of the coffin, Or “Box” as they called it, That she was locked up in Futile—amusing— Tunes from a hatchback Keys in the lockbox What you want, From the problem solver? That's enough; Now she's out of the box In just socks, And they laugh at her— But also wonder Where her shoes might have gone to I won't got no business in the business I unplug the plug because I'm finish Just because my skin they think I'm niggas But that disrespect because I isn't You disrespected me Put the emphasis in neglect Synthesis? Sympathies Put some respect on my name Before I put some facts in these flames Making me famous But you don't play me Picking up packages Trying to play me I am the president bitch Not the lady Okay Scratch my back With a metal spatula Take a step back, this is not your world Take a step back While I skip forward This is snitch territory; You should be very aware of me Beware If that's didn't scare you Just stay right there I'm in weight class: BEAR Flying first class air with howling thunderous winds and much hacking, “TIMOTHY THE GIANT CAT” dislodges a Omg dislodges a what? I have no idea that's all that was there. omg. My mother must've known something about me I couldn't have; My mother must have given me her monster But this monster knows better. Even just the profile is an irritant for now; Unsure, meditterenian, Overgrown pantheons turned to ruins What happened was harder, Turbulence I've been good, Golden even But this computer wants me gone And now, Aggravated Assault with a program Who would have thought the forth world war would be fought With our own thoughts? No one. Hm. Even just a glimpse and imm angrier than I've ever been. Still something creeps like the Harvard doctor Or the burning fire Or the flicker of just a thought A meadowlark and still Vines at the bottom of the spring In the pantheon Rhythms and rythms and Now I remember why were blowing up the counterparts Shut up, And pay your taxes Nothing to see here, bottoms up. But it's only 9 and half a clock Remember Sonny, would ya Now we're all obscure in the shadowbox Fix you up a seller Shortly temple soda Surely something lingers Sure enough The forest, And the father And the omen And the harpist And the seeker And the shadow And the wonder And the alter Therefore, Who art thou Therefore, who, Arthur What a wonderful tragedy, Mr. Lin He said, “I thought you'd though so” I say, “Prayers answered and nothing less Than just in the nick of time, For nickel backs And Pennie's picked up, Now in capsules Who you are, I falter But nevertheless A songbird” What a vow, God. I try to keep my promises But my face is still wilted And awkward I take those punches Just about as well As the bag I've become Downstairs, embankments And more shadow boxes Gift, valentines And then now By Fourth of July I should be quite the disappointment To just about everyone Who even had a thought about her There are no more colors Just wounds, And salt shakers, Garlic and Slamming doors Art throbs And heart connesuiers And curators Existential crisis And inward turmoil Oil on canvas Blood spills Long before it ever boils Cauldrons Candle marks Ought, with my eye out Out, with the harpists! I put my eye on, Dose now, Flicker flames, Shadow box Goodnight drunken soldier Pity this, I want to sleep, but wither I want to weep, but am watched I must be under some kind of… Umbrella. I bust me under some kind of — Possession. I must be under surveillance The Devil's in the neighbor The proof is in the pudding I want to punch the possum Or wombat Or what you would call a rodent Dressed as some dumb girl I'm sure she gets paid by the poem To poke and prod But I've written symphonies next door While she plants the seeds of the devil's words And still tries to force conformity In a neighborhood riddled with disease Of which includes her Poor habits and lack of personality No vibration after all But I've hydrated perfectly And circumstances permit, Again, I've written symphonies and never ending sagas in the bathtub While you threaten to pull the plug And put the light out I beg you to watch me Rip my veins apart with box cutters And razorblades Then again, Probably with glee, The whites would watch Another black in agony They seem to really like that Then again The blacks, the shadows Cursed beats Seem to rip each other into pieces As if for entertainment or otherwise Watch this They seem to hate each other moredoes Anybody else actually hate them also And therefore I watch pitifully and become Respectfully disengaged As I am sorted into Creatures of the agony, abyss and wisdom old A tale as old as time and still Something forgotten, Even still It is a man's war, And us as women are just Objects, Then whatever lurks next door is more An empty body or a shell Than ever more a woman was That was my husband you stole from the office. Fucking dumb whore. Then again; What never was owned Then cannot be stolen See golden brotherhood, Crepes and popes, Sacred pipes Cerulean, And keeping her out of our concepts And gardens Planting seeds of choking mongrels And still here We dance in the meadowlarks song And the chosen fountain The blue rays of sun, And the wonder's bow and arrow Again, I call? Well, again I wake As lover does not call But yet I to answer with a song of words And heart of such A song of one to call for But nothing lays more secret then These eyes and filled with pains A wound, salted A bullet, And gillotine Ouch Get out, God. Listen, mister listen A couple hours later And my eyes are steady getting misty Filled with sweat and bears No blood yet Stings my eyes So you know I ain't been eating right And eyes o. Irish Hash and cabbage Checks to cash And slight advantage God help us all If the brim of the hat is dripping And I'm gripping these quarts as I sleep And thinking of Jimmy Croissants fresher baked in the oven Then somebody better love my son Before I go and end the world And pull the plug I ain't got nothing left for em but diamonds! I left forums unanswered I started a lot of unfinished problems But the thing is, I'm almost sure they're already solved Considering as alcoholism's a solvent It cams hurt the hard boards And mother drives The tears are filled with sweat And fountains Somebody else should call it in I'm in so much trouble with the network Thanks a lot, you algorithm fucking Cocksuck programmers Now my heart hurts And soul is vanished How hard do I have to run To go and catch her I looked 15 years into the past And found a wheeelbarrow and basket I have got to get out of here I have got to get out of here Here the coroner comes for Debbie Cadaver But I'm still her, huh Aren't I? Run! You fucking Irish bastard Perfectly tan and yet still, stark white Perfectly golden and still, I'm on numbers Perfectly parished, And still I went backwards A wedding or funeral? All catholic, no services No difference at all And still Nothings worse than Indifference I'm in so much trouble with the network Be king in the nexrophiliac And still I left the golden metropolis For nothing but a metro card and Simple segregative diversity tactics I wanted the heartland! Still, Irish bastard Wish hash and cabbage I've got to get out of here Pushing a basket Abandonment And Fatal attraction You can't sell me anything If I can't buy it Recovery day But I don't feel like it Muscles tired, I'm elastic Send them to the band camp (White lion) I'm elastic Twists and turns and I'm elastic Double up, Double up I'm elastic Twists and turns and There's vampires Don't feel like it Double up double up I'm elastic Take a lesson This is tragic Double up double up I promise, it is personal not business It's professional, no promises now On the radio tower Spread it out Or just hijinx it I mix drinks with hindsight I'm elastic Lesson learned and Twists and turns Between the fireman and the super Someone left a stench And an energy marker in my room That left me clawing at my “Do not touch” money And it hit below the belt. It was all God's comedy, But not in the least funny, I knew I didn't like the super really for whatever reason But even after he left to check the Fire defectors His stench lingered over the smell of the forgotten smoke And I woke up from a nightmare As if I'd lost control When normally, I know imm dreaming with Enough time to change things Before they spiral out of control— And the worst part, I didn't remember the dream at all besides Waking up, finally at the end Realizing it was a dream and telling myself It was okay, because now I could just wake up But it wasn't okay, and I blamed the super And whatever he brought with him For lingering in my space Which didn't really feel like mine anymore, anyways, Because the neighbor was evil as they come And they were always playing mind games in the building And the motorcycles And really I deserved better But I couldn't afford it And because I couldn't afford it The demons were always lurking Trying to penetrate my space And they did, that day And it was God's comedy But it wasn't funny And it lingered And the nightmares And the motorcycles was a years long nightmare indeed And hey, At least I got some new music. I realized my show might be the only place my “remixes” might ever see the light of day or have ears other than mine; I couldn't afford the permissions and licenses for most of the music I wanted to remix— nor did I have the energy or the funds to secure the means to come across them. And so, it might have been a good idea to start working; I emptied my bank accounts with intention, with a kind of understanding that it didn't matter at all anyway. Kind of nothing mattered, because there was no real money involved— and I had, in fact stumbled upon the opportunity in a suicidal spiral of desperation, being somewhat hopelessly lost at random in what I thought was Williamsburg; it wasn't, I had apparently walked around Brooklyn in an extremely large loop for about an hour before I realized I might be going in the wrong direction because I couldn't see Manhattan anymore, I didn't care. It was probably 77 or something degrees but with the New York humidity it felt like 90, and I was wearing a head to toe full body sauna suit trying to recover from the end of the month's rations of beans, rice, and literally whatever the fuck I really wanted, because it was really also whatever the fuck I could afford without running out of food for the month before my card reloaded. Thinking I should just die, and in the same very moment stumbling across an opportunity that wasn't nessarily a job, but could easily lead to one— and so, after paying my internet bill, I plunged and poured nearly every last cent I had left over Into what? Idk it just ends there. Goddamnit. {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project™ ] {Enter The Multiverse} L E G E N D S: ICONS Tales of A Superstar DJ The Secret Life of Sunnï Blū Ascension Deathwish -Ū. Copyright © The Festival Project, Inc. ™ | Copyright The Complex Collective © 2019-2025 ™ All Rights Reserved. -Ū.

Send us a textMikale Olson and I have been proved completely right in our previous chat about the new woke movement (that you should check out if you haven't). So today he joins me for a chat where we go deeper into the ideology behind the propaganda attacking young men right now, and the real solution we need to be focusing on as a nation.Support the showSupport the Show! https://www.patreon.com/sparenoarrowsCheck out the video Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/@sparenoarrowsConnect with me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spare_no_arrows/Spare no Arrows on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/6CqhvtMWRItkoiv8ZrJ6zVSpare no Arrows on Apple Podcast https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spare-no-arrows/id1528869516

Send us a textSince dispensationalism is a hot topic recently, I thought I'd respond to some comments I've gotten on my dispensationalism content, destroy a few bad arguments, and bring a much needed level-headed take on Christian unity, and many Christians' weird desire to call everyone they disagree with heretics.Support the showSupport the Show! https://www.patreon.com/sparenoarrowsCheck out the video Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/@sparenoarrowsConnect with me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spare_no_arrows/Spare no Arrows on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/6CqhvtMWRItkoiv8ZrJ6zVSpare no Arrows on Apple Podcast https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spare-no-arrows/id1528869516

In this episode of the Friends with Money podcast, we explore the housing crisis in Australia and how renting out spare bedrooms could help provide more affordable housing. Money's Ryan Johnson joins host Managing editor, Vanessa Walker, to discuss the housing shortfall in Australia. They talk about the factors contributing to the crisis, including lagging construction and policies that favour investors over first-time buyers. Ryan explains how the 13 million unused spare bedrooms across Australia are an untapped resource that could help ease supply constraints. We learn who owns these spare rooms, the barriers keeping them from renting them out, and how policies could incentivise making better use of this latent housing supply. Key Takeaways: 2:30 - There is a 250,000 home shortfall between housing needed and current supply. Construction isn't keeping pace with demand. 5:15 - Older Australians own most of the 13 million unused spare bedrooms, often in large, empty nest homes. 8:00 - Emotional barriers like safety concerns and desire for privacy have kept seniors from renting out rooms. 10:30 - Clarification on how capital gains tax applies when renting out part of a home. 13:00 - How rental income affects pensions - calls for policy tweaks to incentivise room rentals. 15:30 - Bank now counts rental income toward mortgage eligibility. To learn more about Australia's housing crisis and the spare bedroom solution, be sure to listen to this insightful episode! #friendswithmoney #vanessawalker #ryanjohnson #housingcrisis #sparebedroom Listen on Apple Podcasts Listen on Spotify Money Website YouTube Podcast Playlist Email Us: podcast@moneymag.com.au Get stories like this in our newsletter: bit.ly/3GDirbRSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Wir haben mal wieder eine Interessante Begegnung gehabt und erzählen euch was es mit diesem Skater Boy aufsich hatte :D Spoiler Alert: Es war alles andere als normal :D

In dieser Folge melden sich Isabel und Lukas live aus ihrem Glamping-Dorf Toison D'Or an der sonnigen Côte d'Azur. Die Anreise? Chaotisch wie eh und je: zu wenige Koffer, ein Mietwagen-Desaster und jede Menge Nerven. Doch jetzt genießen die beiden den feinen Sandstrand und ausgiebige Window-Shopping-Touren im charmanten St. Tropez. Und als wäre das nicht genug Drama für eine Folge, entkommen sie in einem der besten Restaurants der Gegend auch noch knapp einer richtig teuren Überraschung – mit viel Glück und einem Hauch Improvisation. Werbung: Diese Folge wurde gesponsert von Seeberger: Lust auf leckere Snacks in bester Qualität? Spare mit dem Code "Negroni20" 20% im Seeberger Onlineshop in Deutschland unter [seeberger.de](https://seeberger.de/?utm_campaign=podcast-q1&utm_medium=nativead&utm_source=podcast&utm_content=negroninights) & Österreich [seeberger.at](https://seeberger.at/?utm_campaign=podcast-q1&utm_medium=nativead&utm_source=podcast&utm_content=negroninights)

Alison Covington AM, Founder and Managing Director of Good360 Australia, shares the powerful story of how her organization is “matching spare with need”—connecting businesses with surplus brand-new goods to charities and disadvantaged schools across the country. Through a sophisticated tech platform and logistics model, Good360 creates what Covington calls “a circle of good,” ensuring that valuable products such as clothing, toiletries, household items, and furniture reach those who need them most, rather than sitting idle or being destroyed. This isn't about food waste—an area that has gained considerable public awareness—but about all the other categories of goods essential to daily life and human dignity. Most consumers don't realize the extent to which businesses, even after offering steep discounts, are left with enormous quantities of unsold products. At the same time, community organizations face constant shortages. Good360 bridges this gap by allowing thousands of registered nonprofits to search online 24/7 for the goods they need, in the quantities they require, with options for delivery, click-and-collect, or in-store pickup. Covington explains that while the user experience feels seamless, the technology behind the platform is extensive and custom-built, designed to manage the enormous logistical complexity of moving goods across Australia's vast geography while minimizing environmental impact. Matching goods as close as possible to where they're needed helps reduce unnecessary “environmental kilometres” and maximizes the efficiency of each donation. One standout example is Good360's long-standing partnership with Big W, a national retailer with over 180 stores. By building a store-based model that connects local charities directly with local inventory, Good360 has enabled more than 700 charities to access high-quality goods. For Big W, this means a single point of contact replaces hundreds of individual charitable relationships, delivering scale, compliance, and measurable social impact. For communities, it means vital resources—and dignity—reach the people who need them, where they are. Thank you for downloading this episode of the Do One Better Podcast. Visit our Knowledge Hub at Lidji.org for information on 300 case studies and interviews with remarkable leaders in philanthropy, sustainability and social entrepreneurship.  

Send us a textPaul Brown of Wasson Watch Co. joins me to discuss a recent controversy he's found himself in because of his Christian position on the recent wave of antisemitism and holocaust denial plaguing our nation, many churches, and especially social media.We discuss the negative and positive impact this has had on his business, the thousands of attacks he's received, including death threats, many from supposed fellow Christians, along with the Israel-Iran War, theology, and strategies for calling out evil in the public sphere.Support Christian business who are unafraid of speaking the truth and offending the right people. Check out Wasson Watch Co. at https://wassonwatch.com/Support the showSupport the Show! https://www.patreon.com/sparenoarrowsCheck out the video Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/@sparenoarrowsConnect with me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spare_no_arrows/Spare no Arrows on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/6CqhvtMWRItkoiv8ZrJ6zVSpare no Arrows on Apple Podcast https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spare-no-arrows/id1528869516

Bumper to Bumper with Dan Barreiro!

Bumper to Bumper with Dan Barreiro!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Bumper to Bumper with Dan Barreiro!See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Thank you for your prayers and patience! Come post your prayer requests, too, in the Facebook group → Christian College Girl Community Related Episodes: 172 - 3 Ways to Search and Find the Scholarships Specific To You 158 - How to Graduate College with $10,000 to SPARE! Learn About FREE COLLEGE Here... 287 - Top 5 Cheapest Universities in America!   YouTube → Kara's Quest Facebook → Christian College Girl Community Instagram → @moneyandmentalpeace Email --＞ info@moneyandmentalpeace.com ***************************************************** Get scholarships and pay for college without student loans! Are you worried about how to pay for college? Stressed because it's so expensive? Are you having trouble finding scholarships, or all you find don't apply to you? Overwhelmed with all things school and money? Welcome fam! This podcast will help you find and get scholarships, avoid student loans and maybe even graduate college debt-free! Hey! I'm Kara, a Christian entrepreneur, amateur snowboarder, and scholarship BEAST! I figured out how to not only finish college debt-free, but I even had $10k left over in the bank after graduation. (& btw, my parents weren't able to help me financially either!) During school, I was worried about paying for next semester. I couldn't find scholarships that worked specifically for me, and didn't know how to get started while juggling homework and keeping up with ALL.THE.THINGS. But dude, I learned there was a better way! With God's direction, I tested out of classes, and found the perfect scholarships, grants, internships, and weird budget hacks that helped me go from overwhelmed to debt-free with $10k in the bank–all with God on my side. ... and I'm here to walk you through this, too. If you are ready to find scholarships specific to you, learn to manage your money well, and have enough money to kill it at college, this pod is for you! So grab your cold brew and TI-89, and listen in on the most stress-free and debt-free class you've ever attended: this is Money and Mental Peace. Topics related to this episode: taking a break, take a break, give me a break, need a break, open heart surgery, open heart surgery recovery, family crisis center, pray examples, how to pray, can't eat, mitochondria, mitochondrial disease, gastroparesis, motility, ICU, intensive care unit, family in crisis, heaven, eternity, emergency room, healing, health, help

Send us a textA viewer asked a question on my previous podcast about how Matthew 24 fits into postmillennialism, so I decided to dive a bit into the history of the fall of Jerusalem in AD 70, the destruction of the temple, and the fulfillment of Jesus's prophecy that's often confused as a prophecy about the end of the whole world. And it all took place during the generation that Jesus was speaking to.Support the showSupport the Show! https://www.patreon.com/sparenoarrowsCheck out the video Podcast: https://www.youtube.com/@sparenoarrowsConnect with me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/spare_no_arrows/Spare no Arrows on Spotify https://open.spotify.com/show/6CqhvtMWRItkoiv8ZrJ6zVSpare no Arrows on Apple Podcast https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/spare-no-arrows/id1528869516

This week MJ and Jackie are droppin' Page 7 SANS GUEST, because ain't NO ONE ELSE INVITED TO THIS BESTIE SLUMBA PARTAH!! MJ wanted to watch 'Baby Girl', but Gideon wasn't in the mood so they turned up the heat with an even sexier 'Baby Girl'....Nathan Fielder. Father's Day weekend came and went with both MJ and Jackie having noticed there appears to be no songs about dads that aren't sad dad or sexy dad, MJ remembers catalogues from yesteryear full of items that you could never possibly afford, and then talk 'bout the risin' trend of "raw doggin" everyday life; including Rob Lowe's recent gym workout. The book "Spare" by Prince Harry is possibly making Meghan Markle too humanized and now we're RUNNIN' OUT OF CELEBRITIES TO MAKE FUN OF UGH, Legolas seems to be preparing for a not so Unexpected Journey, and he did NOT want Katy to go to space. Jackie and MJ prove they're Sally Ride or Dies with a shoutout to the departed astronaut and her partner, who finally got permission to reveal their relationship 10 days before passing. For better or worse Sabrina Carpenter is makin' waves with her new albums PR campaign, and Jackie says 'Dangerous Animals' is great, despite not being about a hybrid shark man murderer, Jackie wants to talk about 'The Materialist', but it's full of spoilers so it's comin' after Jackie's Snackies! THEN WE GOT A LIST of '12 Musicians Who Tried Acting and FLOOOOPPPEEEDDD' (Thanks for THE LIST, Steven!), the Blindz, and Jackie's Snackies from 1:08:25.197 - 1:15:06.559 with MJ's Minute Munchies @ 1:12:04.469 AND