Podcasts about stings

It's something of a music-themed show today as Pete reveals he once interviewed Flea from Red Hot Chili Peppers and he had something resembling a torture rack in his dressing room. Aside from that we pour doubt on the credibility of Bruce Dickinson's polymath credentials and then get stuck into a bit of Black Sabbath.Also, have we come full circle in the "what to feed ducks" debate that's been raging around the UK for the last decade or so? Tune in to find out!Email us at hello@lukeandpeteshow.com or you can get in touch on X, Threads or Instagram if character-restricted messaging takes your fancy.Fill out our survey here to have a chance at winning a PS5!***Please take the time to rate and review us on Apple, Spotify or wherever you get your pods. It means a great deal to the show and will make it easier for other potential listeners to find us. Thanks!*** Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Why does criticism from one person cut deep, while the same words from another roll right off your back? For highly sensitive people, criticism can feel like a direct assault on the self. But what if the sting of those words isn't just about what's said—or who says it—but something deeper inside you? This episode unpacks the emotional patterns that keep you trapped in pain and shows how a shift in perception can set you free. Understand why the same criticism feels devastating in one moment and harmless in another. Learn how your internal judge plays a critical role in how deeply criticism impacts you. Discover how to use a simple but profound inner work process to sidestep emotional shutdown and build resilience from within.   If you're ready to turn criticism into a path to self-liberation and inner peace, press play and begin your transformation now.   Todd Smith, founder of True Inner Freedom Dreaming of a stress-free, balanced life? Visit trueinnerfreedom.com and complete the HSP Stress Survey. Gain clarity on your stress triggers and enjoy a free 15-minute Inner Freedom Call designed to guide you toward lasting inner peace and fulfillment. Are you a highly sensitive person (HSP) or someone who identifies as hypersensitive or neurodivergent? This podcast is dedicated to helping highly sensitive people (HSPs) navigate overwhelm and stress by using The Work of Byron Katie—a powerful method for questioning stressful thoughts and finding true inner freedom. We dive deep into stress management strategies, coping with stress, and stress relief methods specifically tailored for HSPs. Learn how to manage emotions, especially negative ones, and explore effective stress reduction techniques that go beyond the surface to address the root causes of anxiety and pressure. Whether you're interested in learning how to lower stress, handle stress and pressure, or reduce stress through practical techniques, we provide insights and support based on The Work of Byron Katie. Discover how this transformative approach can help you decrease stress, find inner peace, and create balance in your life. Join us to learn about various coping strategies for stress, all designed to support HSPs in their journey toward emotional well-being.

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.

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.

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.

All guests join us on the Farm Bureau Insurance guest line, and we are LIVE from the BankPlus Studio! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

All guests join us on the Farm Bureau Insurance guest line, and we are LIVE from the BankPlus Studio! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Daniel talks about the sharp change in narratives this year for US equities, and why investors should be trimming into strength and rotating into equities from other regions. Speaker: - Daniel Lam, Head of Equity Strategy, Standard Chartered BankFor more of our latest market insights, visit Market views on-the-go or subscribe to Standard Chartered Wealth Insights on YouTube.

This week Bobbi Conner talks with MUSC's Dr. Jane Scribner about bug bites and stings, and possible reactions that may require medical attention.

On today's raw, authentic, and eye-opening episode of the Kreatures of Habit Podcast, Michael sits down with Angela Skudin—founder of the 343 Fund and a powerhouse entrepreneur out of New York. She opens up about her long, painful journey with Lyme disease and what finally helped her heal after doctors and hospitals couldn't.Today the two explore:Pitfalls of Western Medicine: Why hospitals often miss the mark with LymeThe Start of Angela's Symptoms: Why it took decades to heal19 Stings a Day: The wild truth about bee venom therapyNot “Just” Physical: Could Lyme be linked to unresolved traumaFrom mysterious symptoms starting at age 11 to using bee venom as medicine (yep, really), Angela shares it all. This is Part 1 of a two-part series you do not want to miss—especially if you're dealing with chronic illness or looking for alternative paths to healing.TIMESTAMPS:2:11 Pitfalls of Western Medicine7:56 The Start of Angela's Symptoms17:16 19 Stings a Day28:07 Not “Just” Physical

In this episode,Kelsey dives into one of the hardest lessons in entrepreneurship: learning how to receive feedback, especially the kind that STINGS. She shares a personal story about getting tough feedback early in her career and how it nearly broke her but ultimately became a pivotal moment in her growth. She also talks about:Why feedback often feels personal, and how to detach your worth from itThe difference between constructive feedback and unfiltered opinionsHow to discern what feedback to keep and what to let goKelsey's journey of being told she “sounded like a Valley girl”—and how it shaped herHow your energy suffers when you carry feedback that isn't yours to holdA reminder that when you put yourself out there, criticism is part of the dealThis episode is your pep talk on how to navigate feedback without losing your spark.TIMESTAMPS00:00 — Why feedback is so hard for entrepreneurs (and why we need it anyway)00:59 — Kelsey admits to avoiding feedback early on (no follow-up, no testimonials, no asking

In this wildly entertaining episode of Animal Bizarre, a rogue bee brings down a royal billionaire at a polo match, an octopus sends his detachable penis on solo missions, and we uncover the cheetah’s seductive bark that makes the ladies ovulate on demand. If you’d like more Animal Bizarre, become a member of Bizarre Plus. Click here to join today As a member, you’ll get: A weekly bonus podcast Access to all past episodes Exclusive behind-the-scenes access Access to the members-only chatroom Ability to vote on future episodes Early access to any live show tickets See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Stings, doesn't it? Seeing a less qualified coaching getting more clients & making more money than you. You & I both know you're in the top 1% of qualified coaches in your niche despite your business bringing in less than $10K cash months right now. & yet, you can't figure out why SHE'S signing clients left & right with 5 figure months while YOU have never broken though the $10K/month ceiling. Inside this episode, I'm going to tell you exactly WHY it's happening & more importantly, how to fix it so you can get paid like the brilliant coach you are! Xoxo, Camie   5 DAYS LEFT ⏰to get your ticket for OFFER LUXE LAB.   OFFER LUXE LAB

John talks about the desperate attempt by Republicans to convince people that the man who shot 2 democratic lawmakers and their spouses in Minnesota - Vance Boelter - is actually a Democrat. He also discusses the epic failure of Trump's birthday parade and the overwhelming historic turnout across the world for "No Kings" day. Then, he interviews Dawn Huckelbridge. She is the founder of the Paid Leave for All PAC. She's spent her career in gender policy, political organizing, communications, and building early-stage programs and campaigns. And then finally, John welcomes back comedian Rhonda Hansome and they joke with listeners about the latest news and current trending topics.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Jody Hamilton filling in for Steph this week. She discusses California Senator Alex Padilla being cuffed and forcibly removed from a press conference being held by Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem. She also talked about the massive crowds nationwide at the anti-Trump "No Kings" protests - one of the largest in history. Guest - Cliff Schecter.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this episode, Just Rob tends to my "injured" finger during our deliver route.

On this episode of The Adventures in Arting Podcast, Julie and Eileen dive into the often uncomfortable—but absolutely essential—topic of critique in the creative process. …

Through the Fire – Part 5 | Dreams, Dirt & Grace What do you do when you obey God, pour your heart into the journey, and the ending still doesn't look like what you hoped for? In this episode, I'm sharing the heartbreak of being released from Fire Academy just weeks before graduation—and the peace God gave me in the middle of it. This is a real look at unmet expectations, holy redirection, and the truth that even when the dream changes, God's faithfulness does not. If you're grieving an outcome you didn't choose, this one's for you.       If you want to learn how to embrace the Dirt on your journey, come join me over on Substack at kawailani.substack.com

That wound that still stings.

05-13-25 - Hot Releases - John Wonders If A Bee Knows It Will Die If It Stings Someone - Doom - Duster - Murderbot - Tetrarch - Three Days GraceSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

05-13-25 - Hot Releases - John Wonders If A Bee Knows It Will Die If It Stings Someone - Doom - Duster - Murderbot - Tetrarch - Three Days GraceSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

How many cars has Leno? How many dirtbikes are mourners I milled over and started over, the sauna I met reaper and signed saints for St Barts More barters. I promise, your honor, I don't want it I promise my box of problems are all mine alone I got no prescription bottles or alcohol I got no son at all, But I'm likely to call home Maybe it's a good thing forgave me a body No programme Would wack off to I weight lift my organs And topple over at the tower A Scott's Monroe. Wash up. Watch, harder Watch harder Hard water I want to know you, But humbly, I won over hearts posthumously Look, even bob barker knows Not to drop the soap How hard you are Hard water Now wash up, cellulite I dog a hard bone A heart throb I got robbed this morning of all of my progress I get lost on a profile? A profile! When all this time I thought it was The eyes And the tie And the lips And the loafers I guess it's the power The tower card, Better stop talking I bet it's the man of the hour by now Oh, I'd better stop stalking her I stopped the progress report When I saw six dogs off leash, And I left all the hardest parts Out of the post office, Your honor! STEFON It's that thing where— The dog is on a leash but walking you, Because you're a covert submissive, like, subconsciously. Stefon knows all the places. I think I rather like him. I think I might run off now. In that direction, before I— JOHNNY! —woah! YOUNG JOHNNY CARSON discovers he has magic powers. How did you do that? Well, I don't know, I—! JOHNNY! What's going on in there?! Run, you'd better run You better not come home for supper Pick you up You better not call home for nothing You had better not look up from the book not once not once, You're a lost cause. Lost cause. I hope. I'd bet it was you if I saw you. Who are I again? That's right. Talk that stuff. You've been along. Long time now, better get you some sunglasses. Better keep warm. You drive a heavy and hard bargain. And that's what's with the storefront. Still no McDonald's! I'd fashioned. You'd bet a thousand bucks there'd be one there by now. But there's nothing there at all. Or here. Or there. Or up. Or down, I— Fuck. What. I lost it. Lost what. …nothing. *heavy gasp* Shut the book! Shut the book right now. BOOBS. Everything over a dollar. What if I want a hamburger! You're drunk, John! That's what if I want the hamburger for! Jesus Christ And what have I if not prayers for alzheimers How do you spell that disease, anyway? D-E-S-I-R-E Right you are, street car; Who are we, anyway, It must have been a mistake on the one way The wrong road The right time The white world The light goggles The in and outs And the radio towers Oh, you thought I meant us?! No, Oppenheimer?! The Void is a big bright l, Stark white, Light and endless orb, If just you'd all for once be quiet I could finally afford To put the lights on! Close the curtain, I was cursed with Carson Pushing carts on hearts And listen, bitch I got you once, You'll die as mine! Do you know me, Or are you simply not divined Strike through! I am! Redact, I would practice rounds on a baseball bat piñata Just never ever to squander or Delight Delight delight I fucking hate the tonight show I promise you this much, I'm that man. Did you really want me dead? I want the electric chair, please. I wobble and just might topple over. Give me the electric chair please. My stomach is sick and filled with acid. I want a trademark Or part in the company; You sure are phony— You sure do seem to own everything. What the fuck are you blabbering about? Drunken idiot. The Designee. You fool. I can't understand a word you're saying. Relay the message. I'll have white sauce on everything. Exacerbate the plot. The Premeditated Murder of Jimmy Fallon What part is this? The part where I… Duck— Run. You had better hide. I am hiding. …no. This is a bad spot. As you can see, I'm full of blind rage But it obviously should be liquor. I'd say you were the most drunken man I'd ever laid eyes on, But then I thought Of my father. Bless your heart, sparrow. I'm a hard one to want. I supply the artform The nothings The bastard. I supply the wages The heroin, The speed And the dancers. I supply the answers, The cantine, the spam— And you wouldn't believe the dimes And the dames, And the diamonds in my life. I can't breathe. Shackled, no belonging, I need you to free me I remind vampires of simply being I design outside and campfires and I, Now that I've bartered my all for the land On which you build houses, Nonpartisan alcoholic, If you ask politely my party Park the Winnebago at the other park; This is a stakeout This is a campfire We don't want the feds in our business Suits and ties, boys Suits and ties Boys and girls and aarvarks But Google wanted Barbra, so Streisand or Walters? Depends which way you're going. I want the electric chair. Cher! No, go boldly into the light, White flower Boldly enough the life White power Boldly into the looking glass You're the last to know And the first to pass out at the party, Why are you so tired! (You're right, she does have a lot of answers.) Addicts and calculators See you later, Elevator Truth or dare And never starbursts, Only now or laters. Jesus Christ. Relax a bit. Can't. Have you ever seen a constipated model? Hm. Why not! They all take relaxatives, Relax a bit. Can't. Why not? I'm immune to cocaine anyway. What speeds you up with enough Can sure consume you or calm you down. Since when! Since forever actually. What a remarkable honor, To have been skipped the immidiate need To fiend on at least this thing; I like more longset poems In hardborn fashion I'm in five lanes of traffic across And upright. Your fame ends here, And look at that No coincidence I don't want it at all I've demolished it, And there is no plot I just fought off the commandments with batons baton rouge I don't think you understand where my marker was This is a set up Through and through I was picked by a photograph To spend the day Arching my back in pain and in chaos In one, And not the opposite direction And also In all roads Which lead Into And out of Nowhere Chatterboxes. You wouldn't dream how my back aches, Aye sire, So you just be hell So this must be hell; She's a polyam, How glamorous, But all I qualify for Is a garbage man In a garbage town Where no one knows how To use a garbage can Fuck these rodents —-but it's the culture! Fuck your culture! Ow, God. What'd you do that for. Beg your pardon? You're drunk. Light a candle. Light as a feather Stings like the spider I'm in your mailbox, I won't look past Coachella. You fool. What the fuck are you blabbering about man! Get him up, he's wasted. Out for the count, The big envy of the hour The power of the west coast silver foxes And in an ounce of wit In the drop of a hat No masked magician All eyes and no mist As promised Your God, The talk of nobody, And nothing wanted Nothing gained I'm sure the old man has had it And how, in full funeral attire Wondering just as well when he will too will die Your last living will and testament The end all be all best friend of every manc Biiiiiiiiiiiiggggg Jimmy! (And his…erhm… Guillermo.) Right Jimmy! Well, this just got uncomfortable. All night I wept with you, Crept in by the cabinet, Waited by the candlelight, the power, Poor falling l— Dear master, Where are now? Red with the end of it Sure as the tide to come, The swell did wander out And back again As steady breath I killed kyself in the end— But yet you all wanted to live so I painted my on big toes, no motion And groaning Not wanting to go there But look, there's an ocean Pick a poloroid, And go get your nose checked! Now! What the fuck are you trying to say, you silly old dog you? I followed you into the fog, that night! The fog that night No amusement park of course I was waiting for the clown Madness And here he was all along — the Tony's mask, but the frowning one The withered end and fretted tips The groaning, aching, mounds od knowing Mirrors and nearer to roads Left to pay the tolls I will owe you One dollar exactly and one cent Then again I'm driving down the one oh one Racing and panicking And knowing I have no breaks Full coastal downhill in a rainstorm Waiting for the ocean to take us all Because I owe her the world in gold And the goal is to give you power And here yet They robbed her all morning What can be done Dear vampire About this, Nothing And nothing. And pain. And after all, I thought it was the eyes. A day wiser and still nothing to game but fame lost and hatred and boy, I just wish I were dead Spoiled rotten. God, I just wish I was home, Golden thrones, lord, And why can't I just have a dog And a boy And a home And a whisper A word And a world of my own Without the howls of war Or the ache of the heart Or the tears of the clown? Why, God? Sitting in my pictures, The history like a loaded gun Waiting to eliminate some sort of retaliation; disastrous archives Medieval remedy, I swear, These are no thumb drives And these are no harrods And this is not my time; If it were, there'd be no motorcycles Olive skin or not, The real power tool of the box The toy of choice the boy of grounds And soiled bushels And planted habit How about the rabbit? He sold you, simply for even a penny. Hogwarts, The argument persists that simply, Ms. Piggy would neither Or ever. Protestments, Procure, this: Producer? Not since wednesday I sorry, I have ten pennies. Mister, your face is a rabbit hole. –And Heavens, I hate you Every day since i was 18 Every day since I was eighteen. Pennies. Lessons in literacy; Listen to me, Listen to me Listen, Never say that shit again, My stomach churchman again And it's almost Chanukkah again In ten minutes Where has the time gone? Where are the misfits?! Do you like this outfit? Miserable miserable Missed ou since intense And get the sense of it The scent of him, And dollar signs Deposits And still dollars more At the dollar store You should holler more! You should call your mom You should comye Playe You could come covered in debt Did you pay attention All of the attention All of the admissions All of the adlibs All of the falcons The heart throbs, All of the robbers The heart snobs The Robin Hood's The wilting flower l. 6!3 powers that be and the I thought the dope would be alright I thought you'd be open to our vibes I thought you'd be willing to let go I thought you were awkward apostle Who else on your scrolls is here No one?' No one! I left you shrouded and gathered I. Rose quarts I read your oracle One no On the twisted gathered winds On the walls of Al our problems On the weathered weeping willow Keeping secret How and arrow Are you nearer Or further from love Are you nearer Or further from fame? Neither, I'm no one. No hard core answers, No gimmicks and no robots You're not offline for nothing You not on guard for no one Here's hopeless Here's broke And here's desperate, the foreigner To begin and to end would be around the corner And where you are now Is just the start of the bottom Are you a cow Or are you a sparrow Well now How there aren't vows Inside or outside Stirring your porridge I wilted every one of their flowers And now you're around Barking Not sparrow or cow But a dog (And the bitch bites) A dog A dog A dog A dog!!! Tell me again how the fog bites And tears into cold, the hog Cutting off edges and corners so rotten So putrid and worthy of disgust that it gets out towels warm It gets it all, doesn't it, It gets it all in the cherries and rain A new stream of consciousness, is scrambled eggs for brains And when it rains I hope you know I'll open all windows and doors. Are yonere or there for the false cause Are you here or there for where it brings good tidings and Grains, of Heath and rye Here I am warm again and in your blood To nobody's honor Where are you going To nobody's horror, here is you standing carts And gods And open meadows Shadows, capsules Drains and blood, warm And blood, warm and salty pools under us And blood, free the sparrow Laugh again but better not dare the cat coughs Comes the coffin, oh lord, Call the coroner The caskets I laugh, as I have not passed yet And now I am Debbie cadaver, Cardboard Now I host shows in the lunchroom with corpses I haven't forgotten them all, But I run Run Run Rudolph and impale myself in the lanes And in the soundscape of fever pitched fever dreams and yet again never mazes I sink to the routine of having nothing left in me but greens And greed! The dog! The dog! The dog! I want to know love again But perhaps I never did But always was And therefore to thine own self be true And therefore, to thine own self know God And therefore, as God is I am But worlds apart are we And here the war has waged On souls and solid dark And walks throught park at night. And television headstones, And coming for us, cream of the crop And it just doesn't stop, land! It just doesn't stop, does it Where where well well warewold and TIME! Time and diamonds and time and clovers And opens and closers And spaces and spaces And distance between us And anchors in host suits Are you the lost cause?! Well sir, this is oblivion, And remember the networks? Remember them and know them by their symbols And remember to amen in reverse and no time is god But man and God is of no time But diamonds And scoundrels And men And mercy Then And mercy Be And heavens sakes And heathesms The dogs And the shame And the clasp And the rhythm The curse of the gods And the curse of the mortals Is stopping to crawl and crowl under or skin For the sake of the fear There you are And in the hour of your demise Marks our return And just remember this, The rhythm and the band The Tim and the Jon's and the stop and the start And the love And the dogs And the dogs And the dogs!! Terror fell upon us And as the sun arose I woke And in the timesc I came grasp And in the times, I came to lay Pennece And penitence And illumination, wisdom, And grimace and scrimmage And cabbage And acts so much longer than 15 minutes Dancers! I am no fool, And danger! Of course, my lark. And sparrow came and laughed and went And sparrow came upstairs and choked And sparrow came to dance with withered wings and saw and came And left the bed unmade And came undone again And and and and and and. And and and and and and and and And. Then remembered what Doesn't matter Then remembered the mannequins , Man! Then remembers the tortured Robin! Robin! The hachetman Came and then went With the cat And the and And the and And the and And the dogs And the cats And Andy Sandberg, if that's his name He came, too. Cause we like him. And we like Jews But now we hate the color blue, Don't we. Control and control And fear and fear And chaos and chaos And monsters and monsters And washed up— Don't forget your helmet Put it on the empire I've not an idle moments Therefore My time don't get wasted Don't get wasted Here's the tusk I am elephant again Elephant and wooly mammoth And if I pass, Then no one can have it What comes after the cabbage? A sandwich? No rabbit, and new jazz Tricks are for kids Tricks are for the more intimate of hearts All things at play, The the raid of the poet And the tripping in shoes much too large for us And and and and Then there were none And Passover is over but Here again comes hanukkah In about ten minutes Remember, mistress, the mystery Remember the misery in stakes And remember your mistakes Don't stop, not even if your heart falls out and open This is no poem There are no words for the mangled divorces Learning lessons Highly revered sperm And the auto mattress There you are again Giving up Hi, my name is Blu And I record everything That's what makes me the guru I guess Or I blew it on blueberries Hey scottie; Have you ever seen anything like it? No, I've never seen anything like it But o, i hope it rubs off on me I was all the colors Then I tipped and folded, Then I ripped the anchor right out of their sockets Then I went and flipped the car over Six, seven times I'd better not drive after I write this unless I survived it Remarkable explosion He's it was Remarkable explosion And were twisted In and out of it Still remarkable Not an idle mind Not a flower Just a follower I'm not mad at all Did you know. Did you fold in two, Or have you given any thought to your Motherfucker! When the wind calls And the feeling kicks in Did the wind blow this evening In any particular direction? I think I flew a kite to your homewardbound horses Did you get to rehearsal on time? Did you just remit your good emotions. Did you remember the other words The just now, And the here and there l. But it didn't come, I think it left with the harrowing expenses Robin stradicam, For the heart of it I'm not talking to no one It's only on Mother's Day But it's okay I'm “anybody in the world”, I guess It's okay to l forget When you've never been there for him It's okay to not remember When you're growing butter and and bitterer I got no Angeles left Get a picture are every angle Give my attention to the mistress The ministry of magic And the randomness of all the subtle acts of kindness l. All the subtle acts of mind When you get invented, Remember the random acts of kindness And when you get back from your dispatch, Remember you can't interact with them They're only your mental images. Just remember the things you've been given, The incidentals of gifts, And that it is still she who is The same and the same And the dogs, and the kitchen Put the light out I'm still a genius, And I'm still in charge and responsible for this entire mess. Suddenly I don't feel welcome here I don't feel welcome here I don't feel welcome here at all {Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project ™] The Complex Collective © COPYRIGHT THE FESTIVAL PROJECT ™, INC. 2015-2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Enjoy some calls on our Question of the Day: What Story About Your Mom Would She NOT Want You To Tell About Her?

Your 60-second money minute. Today's topic: Mortgage Roller Coaster Stings Buyers

Alicia dives deep into a feeling many stepmoms know all too well—that gut-punch of jealousy or sadness when your stepkids talk about their mom. Whether it's an innocent story, a glowing compliment, or yet another comparison, the emotional reaction can be real—and often comes with a heavy dose of guilt.Alicia gets real about where those feelings come from, why they're completely normal, and how to stop judging yourself for them. She unpacks the emotional triggers, gives practical mindset shifts, and shares personal stories that will have you feeling seen, heard, and way less alone in this messy, layered role.If you've ever wondered why you feel the way you do—and how to hold space for your own emotions without spiraling or shutting down—this episode is for you.Key Highlights:Why jealousy toward the mom doesn't make you a “bad stepmom”The real emotional triggers behind comparison and resentmentHow to respond when your stepkids bring up their mom (without losing your cool)Tips for managing guilt, boundaries, and self-worth in these momentsReal-life stories from Alicia's journey that'll have you saying “OMG, SAME”Share the Love:If this episode made you feel more human, more seen, or just less alone, send it to another stepmom who's been silently struggling with this exact thing. You never know who needs it.Want a specific topic covered? Let me know here.After you listen to this, tag me on Instagram @aliciakrasko and let me know what you think!Get all the FREE RESOURCES here.Want to learn more about The Stepmom Side community? Here's where you get all the info. Looking forward to connecting with you on the inside.All things Alicia visit www.aliciakrasko.comGet on the list, get behind the scene info on Stepmom life, and tips delivered to your inbox.

Have you been seeing a ton of caterpillars? What types do we have here? How do you tell which ones sting? We try to answer all your bug-related questions with Aaron Ashbrook, an assistant professor of urban/peri-urban entomology at LSU

David Maimon, head of Fraud Insights at SentiLink, joins Yvette Bohanan for another episode to raise awareness about different fraud tactics and their impacts.  In this conversation, Yvette and David explore the intricacies and implications of Credit Profile Numbers (CPNs) and synthetic identity fraud, as well as  “zombie debt” and assumed identity fraud.  Listen in to hear the implications of these fraud schemes and how industry professionals can get ahead of them.  

After the bicep of One Better, we head straight to the crotch for Lust Stings. Les seems to want to highlight the body parts that the people want to see. Lust Stings gleefully swamps the listener with percussion and instrumentation that makes you want to take a hot shower, and adds to it off-putting yet matter-of-fact lyrics about the spread of STI. While all of that doesn't sound too appealing, it all comes together to create a unique experience in the catalog. Make good choices, kids!Get involvedInstagramFacebookEmailBurn your money 

Bisse afspiller en helt romantisk komedie for sit indre blik allerede på første date. Hans hjerne kører på drømmeautomatpilot. Bisse har travlt, synes han. Så travlt, at det føles som en flugt. Men hvad flygter han fra? Selv små skænderier giver Emma lyst til at kaste håndklædet i ringen. Hun bliver stædig og tænker: Nå jamen, så er det jo slut. Men hvorfor egentlig? Hvordan lærer hun sig selv ikke at kaste med håndklædet og i stedet samle handsken op? Vi taler også om Stings far og om at ligge på sit dødsleje og få sagt det, man måske skulle have sagt noget tidligere. Men bedre sent end aldrig - eller hvad? Medvirkende: Bisse & Emma Thomsen. Ekspert: Jytte Vikkelsøe. Vært: Sebastian Lynggaard. Producer: Cæcilie Helena Denman-Gretoft. Musik: "Hold up" Beyonce. Redaktør: Andreas Jeppesen.

(00:00-23:38) Jamie Rivers joins the program talking about the red hot Blues. Jordan Kyrou's big hit in overtime. Really stellar goaltending. Jimmy Snipes. Jamie doesn't know where Jobu came from. Jamie's trying to go to Vegas instead of Winnipeg. Tim was the star of the Mizzou lunch yesterday. (23:46-44:29) What's Jackson's music theme for the day? What makes something cheeky? Mr. Lix is on the phone lines. Lix wants Pop Warner fired and Masyn Winn sent to AAA. A bottle of Josh. Aim Point. A cooler of Busch Light is a cultural thing. Congrats to the JV Golf Coach for being the March Listener of the Month. Who has more money, Lix or Holliday? (44:39-1:13:11) Thanks to the Lix Effect, friend of the show Matt Holliday on the phone lines. Hitting in the 2 hole. Stings a little when the pitcher hit 8th. Torpedo bats. Matt's Opening Day experience. Neighbors with Rickie Fowler. Yadi bought Matt's old house back in the day. His days as a football player. The sparse crowds at Busch. Showing up announced at The Cat's house. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

(00:00-23:38) Jamie Rivers joins the program talking about the red hot Blues. Jordan Kyrou's big hit in overtime. Really stellar goaltending. Jimmy Snipes. Jamie doesn't know where Jobu came from. Jamie's trying to go to Vegas instead of Winnipeg. Tim was the star of the Mizzou lunch yesterday. (23:46-44:29) What's Jackson's music theme for the day? What makes something cheeky? Mr. Lix is on the phone lines. Lix wants Pop Warner fired and Masyn Winn sent to AAA. A bottle of Josh. Aim Point. A cooler of Busch Light is a cultural thing. Congrats to the JV Golf Coach for being the March Listener of the Month. Who has more money, Lix or Holliday? (44:39-1:13:11) Thanks to the Lix Effect, friend of the show Matt Holliday on the phone lines. Hitting in the 2 hole. Stings a little when the pitcher hit 8th. Torpedo bats. Matt's Opening Day experience. Neighbors with Rickie Fowler. Yadi bought Matt's old house back in the day. His days as a football player. The sparse crowds at Busch. Showing up announced at The Cat's house. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Nothing Like the Sun, or as it is written on the album, "...Nothing Like the Sun,"  is the second solo studio album by former Police bassist and front man Sting.  The title comes from Shakespeare's sonnet number 130 which contains the lines, "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun."  Sting was met on the street one evening, who asked him, "How beautiful is the moon?"  Sting responded with this line from the sonnet.  Two events play a lot of influence on this album.  First, Sting's mother died in 1986, inspiring the lyrics to the opening track, "Lazarus Heart."  Second Sting joined the Conspiracy of Hope tour for Amnesty International, and through this tour was exposed to victims of government oppression in Latin America.  He was particularly moved by people in Chile for whom loved ones had "disappeared" in government actions, and wrote "They Dance Alone" as a description of the mourners who would dance the traditional Cueca by themselves with a picture of their loved ones pinned to their clothes.Sting's first solo album leaned into jazz.  This second album continues to have a jazz influence but reaches across a number of other genres including reggae, funk, acoustic rock, soft rock, and world music.  He brought in a number of solid musicians into the recording sessions including Gil Evans, Eric Clapton, Mark Knopfler, Branford Marsalis, and even his fellow Police alumnus Andy SummersSting would continue to further success after this album, which peaked at number 9 on the Billboard 200 chart.  In the UK, ...Nothing Like the Sun debuted and peaked at number 1 on the UK albums chart.Bruce presents this adult contemporary album for this week's podcast. Be Still My Beating HeartThis second single from the album went to number 15 on the Billboard Hot 100.  The lyrics are quite mature, describing the head telling the heart to settle down in the midst of an intense romance.  The title was likely inspired by a 19th Century poem from Mary Elizabeth Coleridge.  Andy Summers is playing guitar on this track.  Little WingMost of this album is original music written by Sting, but this one is a deeper cut and a cover.  Jimi Hendrix wrote "Little Wing" in 1967, and it appears on his "Axis" album.  Gil Evans did a jazz arrangement of this piece in 1974, and provided this arrangement and backing with his orchestra for this cover.  Sting's version runs just over 5 minutes, giving it a run time just over double that of the original Hendrix version.  Rock SteadyAnother deep cut, this song is Stings humorous look at a couple who have volunteered to join a cruise, and later find out that they are joining Noah on the Ark.  "Life may be tough, but we're sailing with the Lord."  FragileThis is the fourth single from the album, and is a gorgeous acoustic piece.  This anti-war song was likely inspired by Sting's work with Amnesty International. ENTERTAINMENT TRACK:That's Amore by Dean Martin (from the motion picture “Moonstruck”) This romance comedy starring Cher and Nicolas Cage delivered a Best Actress Oscar to Cher and a Best Supporting Actress Oscar to Olympia Dukakis.  STAFF PICKS:The Promise by When In RomeRob starts this week's staff picks with the only hit from a British new wave trio.  This track went to number 11 on the Billboard Hot 100, and became a popular song to play at weddings later on.  It gained a revival in popularity when it was used in the soundtrack to "Napoleon Dynamite" in 2004.  Got My Mind Set On You by George HarrisonLynch brings us a cover of a song originally written by Rudy Clark and recorded by James Ray in 1962.  It is off Harrison's comeback album, "Cloud Nine."  Harrison worked with Jeff Lynne on the album because he wanted a producer who wouldn't be intimidated by working with a Beatle.  The teamwork went well, and the two would go on to form "The Traveling Wilburys" supergroup shortly thereafter.Dude (Looks Like a Lady) by AerosmithWayne features one of many hits from Aerosmith's monster "Permanent Vacation" album.  The lyrics tell the tale of a man finding out that the "girl" he has bee pursuing at a club was a man dressed up as a woman.  The idea for the song came from Motley Crue singer Vince Neil being mistaken frequently for a woman with long blonde hair.Mission by RushBruce closes out the staff picks with a song which arose from a conversation between Neal Peart and Geddy Lee about the perception people have that the rich and famous have easier lives.  The lyrics reflect how every life has its own difficulties, and perhaps those who are highly successful would often wish for a more plain and settled life at times.   INSTRUMENTAL TRACK:Bailando/Aquatic Park by Carlos SantanaGuitar virtuoso Carlos Santana takes us out this week with a track from his solo album, "Blues for Salvador." Thanks for listening to “What the Riff?!?” NOTE: To adjust the loudness of the music or voices, you may adjust the balance on your device. VOICES are stronger in the LEFT channel, and MUSIC is stronger on the RIGHT channel.Please follow us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/whattheriffpodcast/, and message or email us with what you'd like to hear, what you think of the show, and any rock-worthy memes we can share.Of course we'd love for you to rate the show in your podcast platform!**NOTE: What the Riff?!? does not own the rights to any of these songs and we neither sell, nor profit from them. We share them so you can learn about them and purchase them for your own collections.

Chris Level and Chois Woodman talked about Texas Tech's painful loss to Florida in the Elite Eight, missed opportunities, game changing calls, saying goodbye to a likable team, and who could return for next year - all in this week's episode. 

Chris Level and Chois Woodman talked about Texas Tech's painful loss to Florida in the Elite Eight, missed opportunities, game changing calls, saying goodbye to a likable team, and who could return for next year - all in this week's episode. 

In this part 2 episode from the Man Up show, the Russian Nightmare and the iconic wrestler, Sting covers his transition from WWE to AEW wrestling and his experiences in the professional wrestling world. He also delves into Stings personal journey of overcoming addiction through faith and how he now aims to mentor younger wrestlers.

Gametime Ticket Offer: $20 off with code "FARZY" at gametime.co The Farzy Show presented by MyBookie Promo: No-strings-attached cash bonus up to $200 Promo Codes: FARZY ..  https://mybookie.website/joinwithFARZYManscaped Offer: 20% off AND Free Shipping with code "Farzy20" at Manscaped.comCopyright Disclaimer under section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, education and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing.

Giancarlo Navas is joined by Coach Lu and Franky G as they discuss the HEAT's loss to the Hornets. • 4th quarter collapse • Directionless • Not tanking, we think • Tankathon attempts and more!

Aston Villa are officially undeafeted in the Premier League for the month of March! Listen in as Cole, Seb and Simon get together to discuss a hard-fought win away at Brentford, Axel Disasi's passion and try to spread some optimism heading into Wednesday's Champions League clash against Club Brugge.You can listen for FREE on Acast, Apple Podcasts, and Spotify - dig in!WHAT DO WE DISCUSS?It wasn't pretty, but it certainly was effective! What did the lads make of a second consecutive away win?Ollie Watkins love scoring against Brentford, doesn't he?Axel Disasi's start to his Aston Villa career.Where does Donyell Malen fit into this Villa side?Will Villa advance to the Quarter-Final of the Champions League on Wednesday?STAY CONNECTED:Email: holtecast@gmail.comTwitter: @HoltecastPodCole Pettem: @TalkAstonVillaSimon O'Regan: @SiOReganSebastian Bacon: @SebastianBacon8EPISODE NOTES:Thank you to our charity partner, Acorns Children's Hopsice.Donate today to support a fantastic charity: https://www.acorns.org.uk/get-involved/donate/ Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

We're soooo back and having a good chat about the footy and what's been going on for the last 3 months (and having a cheeky laugh too)!!! Get in the tipping and the SuperCoach here: https://linktr.ee/thefootypodcast 00:00 - House Keeping and Catch Ups 10:26 - New Stings 20:20 - Kayo VS 7 36:31 - Crazy MCG Technology 39:08 - All The Off Season News 54:25 - Malaka Of The Week

In 2024, to our great delight, we had a conversation with David Maimon, Head of Fraud Insights at SentiLink. We're fortunate to welcome David back for a quarterly series this year to check in on payments fraud writ large - to better understand what's happening and why. Listen in to this episode as Yvette and David discuss the evolution and resurgence of check fraud, the increasing sophistication of fraud rings targeting banks and the government, and the adaptation of new technologies, including Generative AI, for criminal activity.

For as long as she can remember, Nichole Hill has had a complicated relationship with Black history. Then in 2020, she stumbled on a digital archive of pre Civil Rights era Black newspapers and got obsessed with the scandalous stories she found. Our Ancestors Were Messy is her new podcast that explores Black history through the lens of gossip and drama. In this episode, Nichole tells the story of a Victorian era love triangle that rocked the elites of DC.    From the episode:  Nichole Hill is an audio show-runner, writer, and the host and creator of Our Ancestors Were Messy and The Secret Adventures of Black People. Find out more about Nichole here: www.nicholelhill.com Listen to Our Ancestors Were Messy wherever you get your podcasts You can support the show by becoming a member: ourancestorsweremessy.supercast.com Follow Nichole Hill on Instagram @nicholewthanh Proxy listener survey: bit.ly/proxysurvey

When we're facing externally, we've turned away, and we don't realize our relationship. But when we do turn towards Kṛṣṇa, we become insiders, that means we're inside Kṛṣṇa. We're inside the family again. In Gajendra's prayers, Gajendra remarks that, "My Lord, You're never inattentive to me. It's not that when I pray, then that's when You pay attention." He said, "You're always paying attention." In fact, we're intimately connected with Kṛṣṇa, and we're never intimately connected with the material world. 'Asango hi dhyayam puruṣaḥ,' means we never really have a connection here. So, when we come to devotional service by choice, Gajendra says, then You're immediately responsive, because You're already just waiting. In 1.2.17 of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, 'svakītaḥ kṛṣṇaḥ puṇya-śravaṇa-kīrtanaḥ', the Prabhupāda writes in the purport that Kṛṣṇa wants us to come back to Godhead more than we can desire. He said, "Practically nobody wants to go back to Godhead, but Kṛṣṇa wants everybody to go back to Godhead and be insiders." So that's in this verse, samo 'haṁ sarva-bhūteṣu, na me dveṣyo 'sti na priyaḥ—that half of the verse refers to those who are externally focused, and for them, Kṛṣṇa is dutifully sending the checks. He doesn't even put His name on it. It's like some payment, an alimony payment, or something, whatever it is, but the person doesn't want to disturb the other person's mind, so they don't even put the name on it. They just make a direct deposit so that, "Okay, you don't want to...you don't want to know me anymore, so I'll still pay, but I'll just keep it anonymous." You don't even know where the payments are coming from. People don't even realize God's paying them all the time. He's kindly providing, as Prabhupāda said, for every living being, He is giving all their necessities and more, but everyone just thinks Eh.. there is no God. It's like one fish said to the other, "Do you believe in water?" And he goes, "Nah! I've never seen any water. I don't know what they're talking about." But we're enveloped by God's love all the time. He's providing. ------------------------------------------------------------ To connect with His Grace Vaiśeṣika Dāsa, please visit https://www.fanthespark.com/next-steps/ask-vaisesika-dasa/ ------------------------------------------------------------ Add to your wisdom literature collection: https://iskconsv.com/book-store/ https://www.bbtacademic.com/books/ https://thefourquestionsbook.com/ ------------------------------------------------------------ Join us live on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/FanTheSpark/ Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/sound-bhakti/id1132423868 For the latest videos, subscribe https://www.youtube.com/@FanTheSpark For the latest in SoundCloud: https://soundcloud.com/fan-the-spark ------------------------------------------------------------ #vaisesikaprabhu #vaisesikadasa #vaisesikaprabhulectures #spirituality #bhaktiyoga #krishna #spiritualpurposeoflife #krishnaspirituality #spiritualusachannel #whybhaktiisimportant #whyspiritualityisimportant #vaisesika #spiritualconnection #thepowerofspiritualstudy #selfrealization #spirituallectures #spiritualstudy #spiritualexperience #spiritualpurposeoflife #spiritualquestions #spiritualquestionsanswered #trendingspiritualtopics #fanthespark #spiritualpowerofmeditation #spiritualgrowthlessons #secretsofspirituality #spiritualteachersonyoutube #spiritualhabits #spiritualclarity #bhagavadgita #srimadbhagavatam #spiritualbeings #kttvg #keepthetranscendentalvibrationgoing #spiritualpurpose

Passage: Job 3 Speaker: Ryan Choy

TUNE IN TO LEARN:  Have you ever felt like feedback was more of a personal attack than constructive criticism? And you literally felt like it physically hurt and you could barely get back to work, back to your day after? With your confidence levels down to the floor or below ground level?  Join me, Angela Shurina, as I share a client's story when total loss of confidence from harsh feedback sparked a journey toward resilience, growth and optimism, AND higher motivation to get back to it, learn and get better.  We'll explore strategies to rewire negative thought patterns that come from painful criticism, into constructive, optimistic and uplifting ones.   Even the harshest feedback can be transformative when you frame it the right way.  Tune in to get your vibes up, grow through challenges and smile into negative feedback, growing your confidence in your ability to improve and build your biggest vision for life and work.    Text Me Your Thoughts and IdeasSupport the show Brought to you by Angela Shurina EXECUTIVE HEALTH AND OPTIMAL PERFORMANCE COACH Change in days - not in years!

You can enjoy exclusive and intense erotic audio by grabbing your copy of the Sensual Awakening App on the Apple Store, or downloading the very unofficial and unapproved Android version from WyldeInBed.com Ellie was once the picture of suburban bliss, a girl next door with dreams as bright as her white picket fence. But when a singular obsession drags her into the shadowy depths of the city's underbelly, everything changes. Now, she finds herself entwined in a world where desire and danger dance dangerously close. As she navigates the seedy neon-lit corridors of strip clubs and hidden back rooms, Ellie's innocence is put to the ultimate test. Her heart races with every pulse of the bass, every flicker of temptation that draws her deeper into a life she never imagined. She's determined to take control, to seize her destiny, but the cost of obsession may be more than she bargained for.Can the naive girl from the suburbs truly survive in a place where lust reigns supreme and betrayal lurks around every corner? As Ellie's plan unfolds, she must confront the savage bite of her desires and the brutal reality that comes with them. Prepare for a heart-pounding journey through the dark alleys of passion and peril."The Savage Bite Of Lustful Obsession" is not for the faint-hearted—dare to join Ellie as she discovers just how far she'll go for love, lust, and the life she craves.cached

Seeing Vic Fangio win a Super Bowl in Philly makes it hard not to feel a little bitter about his time in Miami. We look back at his stint as Miami Dolphins defensive coordinator and the narrative around his exit. This clip originally aired on the podcast: NFL Free Agency Part 2: How Can the Miami Dolphins Create Salary Cap Space? Another Dolphins Podcast is hosted by Joshua Houtz (@Houtz) and Jake Mendel (@JMendel94). Josh and Jake are joined by Dustin Godin (@DustinGodin13) for this episode of ADP. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Dave Davis is joined by David Lynch to discuss: - Brentford Victory - ⁠Nunez and subs magic - ⁠Lille game - ⁠Quiet January Window Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

As winter's chill settles in, so do the shadows that creep beneath the snow. In this frostbitten installment of Scary Stories Told in the Dark, Otis Jiry and Malcolm Blackwood present five haunting tales that will leave you cold to the bone. From forgotten folklore and relentless winter storms to unspeakable terrors unearthed from icebound depths, these stories explore the darker side of the season. Prepare to face the frost, but be warned: this is no ordinary winter wonderland. To watch the podcast on YouTube: http://bit.ly/ChillingEntertainmentYT Don't forget to subscribe to the podcast for free wherever you're listening or by using this link! http://bit.ly/ScaryStoriesPodcast If you like the show, telling a friend about it would be amazing! You can text, email, Tweet, or send this link to a friend: http://bit.ly/ScaryStoriesPodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The great Wayne Miller returns to share more intense stories from his career with the ATF. Wayne Miller was a Special Agent, Criminal Investigator and Certified Fire Investigator for the U. S. Treasury, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms for 25 years. He has been involved in numerous high profile criminal cases involving illegal firearms, bombings and arsons. He was also a member of the ATF National Response Team, responding to major fire and explosion incidents. For the past 17 years, in the private sector, Mr. Miller has been a fire and explosion analyst for the Massachusetts - based Wright Group, Inc. ​ During his career, Mr. Miller examined more than 2,300 fire and explosion scenes, responded to over twenty-five major incidents, as well as testified as an expert in more than forty cases in Federal and State courts in civil and criminal cases.  *NEW BOOK OUT NOW* Order Wayne's New Book - Flames of Secrecy   https://www.burnbostonburn.com/pre-order Contact Steve - steve@thingspolicesee.com Support the show by joining the Patreon community today! https://www.patreon.com/user?u=27353055           -AD free early release of podcast episodes           -2 bonus episodes a month            -Vinyl TPS logo sticker           -Patron Shoutout            -Exclusive posts and direct messaging to Steve Please rate and review on iTunes! https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/things-police-see-first-hand-accounts/id1384355891?mt=2 Shop Merch / Subscribe / be a guest / Contact  www.thingspolicesee.com Join the FB community!  https://www.facebook.com/thingspolicesee/ Background consultation - Ken@policebackground.net

“Nothing takes the taste out of peanut butter quite like unrequited love,” Charlie Brown once said. Indeed, being spurned by one's crush, or, for that matter, by a friend or potential employer, not only ruins the taste of one's favorite sandwich spread, but causes great psychological distress and even physical pain.Here to walk us through one of life's worst feelings is Mark Leary, a professor of psychology and neuroscience at Duke University, and the editor of Interpersonal Rejection. Today on the show, Mark unpacks the experience of social rejection, including why we're so sensitive to it and the emotions and behaviors it causes, which can be positive and prosocial or maladaptive and even violent. We discuss the role that is played by the sociometer, a concept Mark originated, in monitoring our social acceptance and rejection and what influences its sensitivity to fluctuations in your relational value. And Mark offers advice on how to remove some of the sting of rejection and civilly reject others.Resources Related to the PodcastMark's previous appearance on the AoM podcast: Episode #725 — The Curse of the SelfSimpsons' episode where Lisa breaks Ralph's heartAoM Article: Honor in the American SouthConnect With Mark LearyMark's faculty page