Podcasts about Swallow

GET A SYDNEY PLUSH BEFORE TIME RUNS OUT!Audio gathered from various sources at SITE2 on day 1333.MAJOR INSIGHT INTO:ENTITY9's psychological stateENTITY9's pre-limnal memoryconflict between ENTITY9 and ENTITY12ENTITY1's inability to maintain neutralityMINOR INSIGHT INTO:behavioral patterns associated with medication withdrawalENTITY12 and ENTITY9's relationshipImportant notes:I did what you asked and checked local weather channels as far out as Virginia. If we're to believe ENTITY12, then the stations are typical fare.But they do sound concerning.-Disclaimer: Camp Here & There is intended for audiences aged 16+. The story deals with mature themes and graphic horror which may not be suitable for all audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.Performances by Voicebox Vance, Corey Wilder, and Tom Laflin.With original music composed by Will Wood and produced by Jonathon Maisto.Additional music composed by Mollie Maxwell, Kyle Gabler and Another You.Dialogue editing by Emily Safko. Audio engineering by The Leo!Sensitivity read by Ragtime.-WEBSITE⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠PATREON⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠DISCORD⁠

Ash and Tilly are back on The Continent, silver swords polished, potions brewed, and trowels at the ready! After mapping The Witcher's wild landscapes, they turn their attention to the real treasures of the world: its people, societies, and material culture. Through swords, cities, and stories, they uncover layers of coexistence, conflict, and memory that define Sapkowski's world.The Witcher Series:Books: The Last Wish, Sword of Destiny, Blood of Elves, Time of Contempt, Baptism of Fire, The Tower of the Swallow, The Lady of the Lake, Season of Storms, and Crossroads of Ravens.Games: The Witcher, The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, The Witcher 4 (release date 2026/2027)TV Series: The Witcher (Netflix)LinksWhat is experimental archaeology?What is Material Culture?ContactEmail: andmytrowel@gmail.comInstagram: @‌and.my.trowelTranscriptsFor rough transcripts of this episode, go to: https://www.archpodnet.com/trowel/58ArchPodNetAPN Website: https://www.archpodnet.comAPN on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/archpodnetAPN on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/archpodnetAPN on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/archpodnetAPN StoreAffiliatesMotion Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Chrometono 2025: https://chrometono.org Patreon: https://patreon.com/dadbatchpod email: dadbatchpod@gmail.com Subscribe to The Dad Batch on YouTube Get The Dad Batch merch: https://shop.thedadbatch.com   Social media: instagram.com/dadbatchpod Follow the hosts on social media: instagram.com/stevie.kickz instagram.com/alphaignition instagram.com/sithing.aint.easy Instagram.com/tech.badbatch instagram.com/pabufrik instagram.com/leftcoastavenger  

Hugh Douglas wonders if coaching is really the issue with the Eagles' offense.

Recorded live on December 4th, 2025   Two people making music on the fly… Bugs In The Basement creates improvised musical journeys from an array of vintage and handmade instruments to modern technologies. Recorded live from our basement studio in the Pacific Northwest, each week we experiment in the process of making exploratory music and soundscapes. Unmixed, unedited and unapologetic.   www.bugsinthebasement.com

Nobody's coming to save you. Get help with your health and VAC claims in my community of hard charging veterans - FREE to join: https://www.skool.com/dave-morrow-personal-training VAC is cutting 50% of it's budget in the next 4 years. With over 90% of it's budget going to benefit payments, how can the government say that this won't affect benefits going out to veterans?

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

From presidential wives to strategic stupidity: Why women struggle to manage authority - and the brutal truth about inferiority complex, mysterious masculinity, and the peace-seeking wisdom that keeps marriages alive past 60. In this unfiltered episode of Konnected Minds, Dr. Charles Apoki - married decades and still dodging quarrels to preserve peace - dismantles the romantic delusion keeping young African couples trapped in power struggles they'll never win. This isn't relationship advice from Instagram therapists - it's a systematic breakdown from a Nigerian marriage veteran who reveals why women find it difficult to manage authority, why the wife of the president might want to exercise the showmanship of the presidency more than the husband himself, and why men's inferiority complex destroys marriages faster than any financial crisis. Dr. Apoki reveals the survival blueprint: at his age, living alone with his wife in an 8-bedroom house with 10 toilets on half an acre, he washes dishes before she comes from work because he doesn't want her stressed. Anything he can do to ease her pain, she appreciates. But the modern man? He's doing side-chicks instead of side deals while the wife brings money home. Then he reacts negatively to reasonable advice - "Why the fuel? Don't drive until it enters yellow because it can spoil the injector" - and his inferiority complex translates care into control, wisdom into disrespect. Critical revelations include: • Why women find it difficult to manage authority - the presidential wife syndrome that wants showmanship more than the husband • The Eve principle: women have an "I want to be like God" intuition that drives them toward forbidden things without consulting husbands • Why women don't fear - they carry the size of any man and push out babies with strength that doesn't calculate consequences • The womb psychology: women push and push until they tear or flush, getting confused in the process of urgent action • Why women are not interested in quantity of money - they want your effort to contribute and appreciation for their work • The inferiority complex trap: men reacting negatively to positive advice because ego can't accept wisdom from wives • Why if your man upgraded from primary six to university to House of Assembly, you must upgrade your grammar - don't be tolerated, be celebrated • The upgrade principle: as your wife upgrades, you must acquire skills and diversify businesses - women want strong, tough, focused, productive men who accept authority • The mysterious masculinity strategy: always remain mysterious to a woman, don't let her read you, keep the next move unpredictable • The retirement reality: children are not a good retirement plan because once a man starts kissing his wife, he has a second option and forgets his father • Why women don't know what they want - they wear shorts and pull them down, wear high heels and carry slippers in their bags, go to weddings and carry small chops for children • The strategic stupidity principle: sometimes you need to be foolish to remain married - don't quarrel with somebody likely to burn your house when they have no beauty • Why you always have more to lose - withdraw like a snail, grab her from behind when she's angry, remain the fool who preserves peace The conversation reaches its uncomfortable peak with a truth that destroys masculine pride: you don't go quarrel with somebody who is likely to burn your house when they have no beauty to lose. Dr. Apoki dodged quarrels before his wife's 60th birthday because he had more to lose. She quarreled anyway - "Who told you I wanted to celebrate birthday?" - and he withdrew like a snail, grabbed her from behind for the picture, and preserved the peace that matters more than being right. Segment:- Stay Mysterious, Swallow Pride, Survive: x For the African man seeking to build a marriage that survives past 60 instead of becoming another divorce statistic, this conversation offers the unfiltered blueprint: understand that women struggle to manage authority and will push like the womb until they tear or flush. Upgrade as she upgrades. Contribute visibly to the family. Swallow your inferiority complex when she gives wise advice. Remain mysterious. Choose peace over being right. And remember - at 60, when children have left and sex has lost its appeal, the only thing that matters is the peace you preserved by being strategically stupid enough to grab her from behind and take the picture, even when she's angry about the birthday celebration she claimed she never wanted. Host: Derrick Abaitey IG: https://www.instagram.com/derrick.abaitey YT: https://www.youtube.com/@DerrickAbaitey Join Konnected Academy: https://konnectedacademy.com/

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

Recorded 18th August 2024visit: http://beautyofreallove.com/visit: https://sadhumaharaja.net/audio: https://tinyurl.com/BeautyOfRealLove#raganugabhakti #bhaktiyoga #radha

—1313. Chroma111. Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So imm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He shot first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025 The Festival Project, Inc. ™ All rights reserved. Chroma111. Copyright © The Complex Collective 2025. [The Festival Project, Inc. ™] All rights reserved. UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION OR DISTRIBUTION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED BY LAW. INFRIGMENT IS PUNSHABLE BY FEDERAL LAW ​​

Who left a whole box of corn flakes In a locker At the Equinox On Wall Street? I told you go to the one at The Rock. I told you, I'm not going on that block, like at all. {Enter The Multiverse} That's just my Karma, Ms. Nancy; I did a whole lot than just Thought about it More edits, More recognition that I—l couldn't stand it; The planet just seems to get smaller and smaller With less and less plants in it; I have your pants on, But shoes didn't fit I wrote a whole book and resenting But still not the movies, I meant it. Damn. She's just so much better than I am Head in a frying pan on high beforehand, And however damaged, It felt bad I know what I did I felt that Camera Obscura, for sure, you know But disconnect, Swallow badders, wha— t?! Get my peanut butter up; Why! I'm a circus monkey; Damn. I got karma faster Than I should have known I lost episodes And threw away the whole entire show I went running long And then I threw up on the subway I only like the one Sublime album (The one with wrong way.) You know? Cuh' I went the wrong way I fucked up on all my dollars I got karma back hard, yah Got a poem or prose or song on ol' Ms. Molly, too, (or two) I fall in love inside the tube, Truth is, though Teletubbies and teleportation Ain't so far off from where I come from Problem is, Opporsite world, I'm the story of the whole show; For sure dawg. —a situational Thought process. When the crack finally kicks in, Astounding the loss of my confidence I've gotten lost in a toxic land I got syndrome “talk to much” Not on the spectrum, nor diagnosable X's and O's on the tic tac toe board, Just an underhanded “I told you so” All the rockstars want —Subtle thoughts of suicide as the train approaches? Nah, Models and the other types of girls That never work at all, They just born at it. I got bored with it, But not the fourth one, Cross my first amendment, On my heart like catholic More like Bart Simpsons, Like art magic Cause I won't watch that show But love Matt Groening— Maybe I'm the type that just Love hating But hate loving with No way to I don't hate you; Yeah you're right, I'm off Take two. ((Good Luck Riding The J Home.)) Not a gym run, a different kind of cause, I guess I got so many plausible options, I guess I should call on one of them, Toss a number up, struck the dog on mathematics I can't let my lantern out of gas, We're not friends, are we? What a fiend! Are you offended? I just want to see my dreams relayed to me— Is that too much to ask? So I'm the asshole. What did I pack a bag for?! Picnic baskets. What did I leave this curse for? Nothing, Thanks for asking, Nance. I put a pilot on the presence of a whole color— phenomenon. I swallowed all my pride and presence just for an automaton. This automation algorithm— is it? Doesn't make a difference. I spilled blood inside my kitchen, Put deposits on a flicker, Tricked the treasure at a phantom, Phantom I want more but swallowed all my high pulp orange juice on knowledge of the only one; There's only God, There's only us— There's only cause+ effect, 6 more albums, note books and a couple novels that came out of that one. Squeeze em hard, ya'll. Don't let me love God. Don't let me talk back, I'm not about a rack. Tantrum, yes. Talk to my God. Please. Talk to me God. Now. Talk to my family one time. Now. Talk out me sideways— Now. Bring me a rebel. Now. I have a headache. Now. I got regrets son. Now I got a dead son, a dead daughter a ghost cat and George Jettson, Michael Jackson and George Zimmerman, all of my tabs open: I take a tab hoping I fall asleep on the cold ocean, Calm before storm comes Out on a surfboard Look at the full moon— Nobody can hear you so SCREAM. Now. For crying out loud, Take the knife out, For a second or thought, I'm a wife now; What back handed thought or a back and on blacklist— Your back room was only your conscious— Now I'm looking at my left side, Also catatonic, Not aboard the problem like you wanted, What an order form for border patrol, You want tall glasses of hard fortune, Work hard for it, or rosemary pork on sourdough. I'm in love with you, but in poverty— There the devil is. But oh, aren't we all familiar? Suit and tie hangs to the tide, I tie the knot with rope from which I die, And quickly crafting coffins, want to walk around before I go off, Diving board or world one antenna? Not to mention it, redirect the attention and energy into something other than consumptive— Everything I do and everywhere I go, I clutch this stone Or put inside my pockets knowing if I let it go Or it falls out and to the ground Not only will I float up, But the world will open And swallow us all whole ((Down.)) I live with the knowledge of criminal visions and masterpiece compilations, but as of today I owe a bank my very and entire existence It is what it claims to be, these days ring true Nothing these days sounds like music but you. I put that book back on the shelf; Rewound the tape before I put it in the case I knew it would be late because, well That's the way it always is That's the way I always am I'm sorry mom. That's the way it always is— They told me I don't need no makeup on, However this may have only been true when I was ten to twenty two, Or twenty two, Or two whole years ago before the motorcycles stole my story. When I put the sun up in the sky, I suppose, is when I started this [that's called a God Complex] It's all behind us now, or rather All up front And out in the open In twelve point font As if I would ever cop to it I took the wrong way to Wall Street l Believe me l, i think of the tree at the rock, Long before this all was ever thought of, And I held her seed in the heart of my palm God said go the other way, I said “Okay” I want to see how much money I make; I wear makeup, I got nothing So much for a body I got stuck with words and good talking, And long vocabulary instead of the coast and a longboard So what's the cost for a whole table turn? So what's the cost for a “her—perfect.” Huh? What is the cost for some popcorn in Lorne's office? What is the cost just to cover the love boat theme song— Don't get me wrong I have original music I'm just hard getting to it; The motors are running The mirror: my mind is a murderer, murderer Engine's are purring are hurting her, hurting But I been wanting some corn on the cob To talk to my mom To call some place home To care for my son To wake up on Sunday past noon like “That was a good show.” And the next sold out . real talk, I got real problems Someone knows I'm on top of my thoughts at the rock, Choking back cocaine All the world under me, Mad at the world though For not looking up to me Huh I call this suffering Cause I already been been hungry, And homeless So I know this Pit-of-your stomach And tied to a brick at the bottom of the ocean feeling, that really Sits somewhere between “Hopeless” And “not good” But hey— If you were to say “how's your day” I answer “I'm great!” Like a positive, programmed robot or something, my mantras lately, replaced however with repetitive honest pleas of “Please help me.” Seems like— the only thing meaningful is saying this inside my Google documents; However, Seems like, It isn't worth the breathing, really Oddly, I forget to— Then I get this special feeling, Almost sentimental, inside my head I don't need medicine as much as I just need a friend besides my cat —thoughts of hammers in my brain— If I could tell you what the level of the pain is? Mercy. There doesn't seem to be a number Merry Christmas, Let's get displaced; Case is dismissed— Let's get shitfaced Wash the dishes, Pick the peloton, Pick imaginary friends And watch the President be hilarious, Until it effects us negative and in the read, When peanut butter bread and jelly All you ever get for breakfast For extended periods of time. Hah. Bloodshed? Wrong. Blood hound? Bad. Segmented thoughts on a toothache? Too late. I hate to tell you what the truth is, Cause you'd hate it. Useless. Jew fits; I just saved two cents on toothpaste And you got two new fits to wear for your friends approval and some cool picks But I can't do this anymore I want to choose live; Inside my death is The whole of the city, Electric and Thomas Edison And impressive Mister Business— Rockerfeller read about it; Somebody gotta learn and teach to squeeze the money out the people! Something simple says, “Just stop it.” Choke a chicken over breakfast, Thoughts of Belfast, real fast train to somewhere in LA, I think Today will be the day That I give bacon To charity, No care left, to give a gift So thankful, For being blessed with time to waste To write this piece of shit I guess I died I guess in family guy? I didn't like it, yet I think sometime's in stewie's cadence— …like, a British baby? And a talking dog? And a dumb ass dad? And a bunch of songs? And some salad dressing, To go with that master habit of getting Grams and Grammies; But in the long run, after a long talk on the roof with the opposite of God, I finally call a conference with all the lawyers of the court— But not to work at all, Only order sandwhiches Obsession has its advantages and platinum records, If you tap into it directly. Forget it. I'm out of magic. Or out of patience— out of time for petitions, But which one is it? Which dimension actually gets me picture perfect Instead of nervous in the eye of the beholders? Learn your lesson well; There's got to, got to be a reason why The wrong way is the right. There's got to be a reason why— My day becomes the night. There's got to be a reason for the words upon the paper, But I've got to figure out my rhythm later; I gone up instead of downtown, Turn the clock before the sunrise, I just want to find the love and the peace in it agai. Gotta love a synchronicity; I get stuck inside bronze statues Door way syndrome And I shutter just to never remember him But here the picture is, a perfect person Headless and befriended him, the lover The line inside my mind is crossed I'll suffer till I turn to dust on this one. My thoughts the first time I saw him? I hate him, Cause he'll never love me. What a troubled thought for a little girl on a lot of drugs and a weight problem. One more, I don't remember where I'm going Day to, I have to remember to forget you Take three, I'm happy that they pay me to tape these things Because I'm maybe going crazy; From the outside though, you wouldn't know it Low and behold, this is my show afterall And covered in gold like the whole of the moon I can play to the tune of two men, to two million don't let it torment you, You looks twisted Get out of your head, and turn off your television Go on a walk, Get run over by a bus or motorcycles Turn around and talk to God and your disciples — cause they all watch. Oh, what's wrong now? That's a long run, And now another pilot that I'm proud of— Stop looking at the ground— It hurts. Today, I learned my lesson, It was not a new apartment— It's a prison. I gotta say I kinda gotta love to wonder where the fuck I'm at besides “Manhattan”. The cat needs water, My heart needs captions. New York needs Jesus Hope he don't see this (Even if he did he probably wouldn't believe it, Or Even if he did He's having trouble learning English, And, Even if he did he had he's been repealing all his promises to return to us; We worship dollars A cock-shaped structures in New York— TIME TRAVELER Its called The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What. TIME TRAVELER I'm looking for The Rock. SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVEL It's called “Rockefeller Plaza.” SUPER NEW YORKER What's that. TIME TRAVELER It's a building? I guess? SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER It is. It's— SUPER NEW YORKER It's not. TIME TRAVELER But— *fucks off immidiately without any closure whatsoever.* TIME TRAVELER Huh. the TIME TRAVELER pulls up a picture on their device; the building itself seems to have disappeared from the photo; (Like Marty McFlyim back to the future) Contd Must be the wrong dimension… But then JOHN D. ROCKERFELLER Is MURDERED at the height of STANDARD OIL. Oh no! So that's what happened… Yeah? He was a bastard. Well! Damn. {Enter athe Multiverse} So you're everywhere all the time, And I got nothing left to run And we already talked the talk And we're already back to one Let the waves blow over, Cravings, tasting haze of periwinkle, heaven waking Putting every penny on the promise that you got me But you never save me, Really, Jesus? Racist! I got a lot of stakes in the game And all these snakes keep weighing in! I got these eight days left inside my head, And I'm a murderer Remember to admit his wrong you are Next time the caw will crow. I crevice drawing under rock Inside the undertoe, My surfboard heading home for shore, My body going under. Oh Conan, what have you done. I'm not sure yet. So? Go get him, you old hoot. I just want to watch a little longer! *feathers ruffled* What! It is comical So i'm stuck inside the equinox on Wall Street catatonic, Adding up the dollar signs and losses, Well now, Got my hosts and calling cards, And struck with dirty dozens Doesn't anybody understand? [no. Nobody does.] Certainly, you know, nobody does this. Certainly, I'm folding all the shirts for all the husbands Certainly my love was lost, but for sure I didn't want it. For sure, I dropped a couple rocks I had inside my pocket . Well done, folks. Guess what? Those aren't crocodile tears I'm crying. I'm dehydrated but they're called psychic cause Nobody knows where they come from; Some would form the thought that you got water trapped inside your soul It only happens when the sun sheds hard tears Here, solar panels Animals and tragic circumstances, Fucking Asholes Never shine your diamond on the twilight, Shooting stars; Never shoot at birds from cars; Remember, They are flying. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you, done. I swallowed you whole, I swallows you whole, I swallowed you down some. I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you whole, I swallowed you up; I swallowed you whole I swallowed you whole, You know what the cost is Just a heads up, If you take a picture of a gamgstalkers face, They run away. The crime being committed is a non-contact form of combat, a scientifically proven biological weapon. When you begin to document this meticulously, a pattern of coordination begins to become established. It's no longer some sort of phenomenon, that can be written off as a symptom of a broken mind; The more evidence you gather, It becomes a verifiable crime. Remember that the point of it is to control you, to enslave your autonomy— to program you to believe something is wrong, when clearly, The signs of an awakened mind can pick out patterns in the construct of human social behavior that is not ours; it is a deficit in conciousness, a weakness, caused by the moral degradation of our souls in the societal world— A loss of God. And also remember, Humans have a history to seek and destroy which it does not understand, And cannot control— However, also, God comes in all forms. You must know when all is all. Okay, shh— Don't lock the door, now You got a pardon, You better run. I am an a-list celebrity; I am an “amen, sister— I hear that!” I am a medicine woman, A centrifugal figure, A ritual character, Skilled at charicature— A big Kimmel fan, A rick and a Morty, A woman a man, A puppet, the master, A cat in a hatbox, A blasphemous coffin; A wart on a warflower. Hm. Now who could possibly take that out of context? Soft surf rock at the equinox on Wall Street. I love all four stories, I rode all four horses, I put all four corners of the earth onto a surface Then I rolled it up Huh… Somebody does that. Leets go, hard core But don't forget the hot sauce Don't forget the — Smattercat?! SMATTERCAT?! SMAAAAAATERCAAAAAAAAAT! The Adventures of Atticus Catticus. Man, this is fucked up. I can't disagree with you. I can't get you out of my head (I want head) Can't get you out of my mind I find that You must want me dead Tan lines l You must want me off my meds! You want in me in bed at 9 sharp You know what!? You remind me of Harper. Now let's talk shop, Calm, little brother I went with the other oath— Don't you belong to God? Who's on the phone? Donald Trump. Tell him “no.” No to what? Just tell him “no.” Then he'll get here faster. So what do you got in your supplements? Simple psychology; Have a red album. Nah that. I got gold gold balls on all of my prostitutes Pulled apart orgasms, Never been touched, sire. Never have I took forgranted this passion( Never have —that flex— Theatrical pangentry. Never went Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich Ham sandwhich GODDAMMIT. I thought you grant wishes. — also in charge of summoning. Part time. Well what are you mad about?! At least you got a job! I'm so sick of this kid, He just summons “Ham sandwhich” What's wrong with that? I gave him “ham sandwhich”, Alright?! All kinds, And you know what? That guy has all kinds of magic— All the kinds— Every kind you can imagine, And no matter what, He just wants. Hmmmm…: …. Come on. Summon a dog, or something… A new bike… ……. ……..:::: ……. …. Ham sandwhich. GOD DAMMIT. …and a kite. …what was that? I want a kite. Y…you want to fly a kite. Ya. Alright! But first. An, God. Ham Sandwhich. WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? SO WHAT I LOVED NANCY REGAN! SHE HAD THE BEST CATCHPHRASES! AND ALL THE KENNEDIES! FUCK WITH ME. Somebody shoot that bitch. But sir— Before she runs for president. But sir… THINK OF IT LIKE KILLING BABY HITLER. You're right. TAKE THE SHOOOOOT. MEANWHILE… In the MULTIDIMENTIONAL SPACETIME SURVEILANCE FACILITY Oh good. What's that. Someone one assasinated me. That's good. I'll say. Wouldn't want you to run for president. Someone still would have had to elected me. Oh, you mean like in all these parallels over here. *shrugs* They'll collapse eventually. They haven't yet. I just got assasinated. Wait for it. I've been waiting. I don't get why you hate me so much. I'm indifferent, really, just waiting for something exciting. I just got assasinated. And I just got a ten cent raise. From what I can tell, doesn't make much of a differences. It's like, limited assimilation in this dimension; Did I correct you— Lessons, I'm not making any promises. Look out little brother! I set them on you. Got to put the pudding in your pot— And don't forget to floss. What's corrextions? Look, I'm anatomically correct— Shut up, Ken. I don't click on videos or images Because I love him It's just a crush, A pair of wooden crutches A horcrux And a fox A crucifix And Sunday Brunches. It's just a bunch of pictures, Edits, autographs, Extended plays It's just an infinite inside my head— It's been a couple days. A couple miles down And sure to go, You're all for it— Soon you got to know Whatever you done Has come for your— Stop the truck for misuse of four muses And autotune to ruin it— Your mascot is a narwhal But you're rooting for the Bruins. What is even a Bruin? A bunch of racist frat boys and hot bitches in sororities and covens? Bet that Okay, Like, I fall in love But just to write a bit I pour my heart out in a song And for the moment I could make forget i'm ugly Even if for the duration of the half time; Half a pack at halftime, Half a pack at bedtime 20 cigarettes on your 2020 vision. Three beers, Then three beers Thirty three years and he still won't love me Thirty three years and I'm still no woman. He show first, So I shot back I forgot rock doves Served a purpose Postage For lost albums on the surface Surfboards For hot rod bod host, I offered up Conan, Now pick that hard eye Banjo up Water dance Pick that apple, Off the tree With not a scratch Hands tied behind your back; Baggage claim, River dance Pick it up without a fork You whispered us a state of trance For God's socks, If I fly coach, Low ball Lost a fortune Don't call me ‘bud' I think about your walk all day; Like, Three or four times, maybe Not no noodle soup, you wonder But you're asking for a Ballroom. Haggard. God did far too good a job on you; As the car jumped over the moon. I complete your meat puppet, But recently went vegan Line them up and then A heart attack, A hot bath, And a hammock. You got your offer, But I want it back, I want my roses. Golden proses so rit and rattle. I rot in hell for all I've done, then scramble; Damn. I just can't get you off my head without ramble You're probably on a tour bus; She's pulling out all the stop— But you're my monster, just know that Although I'm on top of her turf. So much for Service Monday. So much for making money on a conduit, a conduct. So much for love as. He aim for the head; I aim for the neck; He aim for the heart, I duck, I fall in her eyes, High water— No more cam tide Sunsets. What, I get you really wanted oceans, So you got them. Godsense. Pull, Conan Pull— Haul in! All in on your cards, But take the occult off them; Offering? Totem pole. More than one? I love to hope. Fix your face. Pull the plug— I'm off till Sunday, Off till Sunday. Ten days to Tuesday, You want no more Ten days to Sunday And ten more before that; Ten tongues before dawn, And other I slaughter And slaught cross the sloth, I wither, Your honor. Ten tales too soon, Ten wide my diamonds; Ten eyes in your Isis, My mind, Orion. Ten lost in the Outback; Ten lost on your mass, tongue Two whipped at the alter— I called her about that. So to the effect you check your fax and press the send, I'm steady living, never coming back, Or cap the president— Never living, Never listing residence on Madison You're stuck inside my half-life That I'm mad besides the medicine. You're stuck inside my past, Like all the knives inside my back, And still I fondly think upon a laugh, As ice cream sundaes, Half a sandwich Appetite for having all you are inside my master work of art, The world, your face I cut from clay inside my hands And I still have you in my swollen arteries, and trees the veins, The wicked summers and the bitter winters came, But did not cross paths, So to not bear ties, and to not plug Holes in the hull of the whole ship I think I sunk overtime instead of rather All at once, You know, It doesn't suffix What it takes to turn it back from “Love him” Into nothing. 20 hours passed and 20 cigarettes and ivory towers, But forgive the lives inside of Mormon wives and ice cold showers— Scatterbrained but highly trained in “Never Happened.” “Didn't matter.” So you roll it up into a movie script and call them actors. Why'd you flash me, dancer, Don't you know how bad I want that? Out inside your dozens, for my cinnamon coated combat Nail box fires Had you ordered Your desires Flow the golden drifter Fear of rivers never frozen. Don't you know the sun draws close But the heart grows cold, But the want goes harder? Don't you know the doors get shut, And the Kings get cut, And the wind blows wilder? Don't you know the stars just fall from the sky (They all fall from the sky, They fell from the sky) Don't you know We're all gonna die Put a trial to the wand, Fore you take her heart out Ten times.

Fifteen organizers stood up in the NC Senate. Fifty people in the gallery joined them. Two million views later, "racist maps make racist reps" became a rallying cry against North Carolina's latest gerrymander.Mark Swallow leads Democracy Out Loud's Legislative Response Team, the organizers who show up every week to be the voice for North Carolinians who can't take time off work to testify. When the GOP advanced another map designed to help Donald Trump gain another congressional seat, Mark and his team made their voices heard the only way they could: from the gallery.In this episode, Mark shares what it felt like when the whole room stood with them, why getting kicked out "always feels good," and what keeps him going after nine years of this work. "If you don't say anything, the lie lingers," he says. "When you have your say, there's truth out there to counter that lie."Protest until something changes.Support the showFollow us on all your favorite platforms! Instagram: @democracyncTikTok: @democracyncThreads: @democracyncBluesky: @democracyncFacebook: @DemocracyNorthCarolinaYoutube: @DemocracyNorthCarolina

Send us a textEmail Lennie at lennielawson2020@gmail.com

The Plan-B Show with Brock & Kiki - December 2nd 2025See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

In this episode, Ash and Tilly set out on an archaeological survey across The Continent—the dark, layered world of the The Witcher! From the ruins of Kaer Morhen to the forests of Dol Blathanna, they explore how landscapes, material culture, and societies reveal the deeper histories beneath Andrzej Sapkowski's Slavic-inspired fantasy universe. Join them as they dig into the Conjunction of the Spheres, the rise of humans, and the relics of vanished civilisations, all while fending off drowners, spectral elves, and the occasional moral quandary!The Witcher Series:Books: The Last Wish, Sword of Destiny, Blood of Elves, Time of Contempt, Baptism of Fire, The Tower of the Swallow, The Lady of the Lake, Season of Storms, and Crossroads of Ravens.Games: The Witcher, The Witcher 2: Assassins of Kings, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, The Witcher 4 (release date 2026/2027)TV Series: The Witcher (Netflix)LinksBog Bodies Research Project - National Museum of IrelandThe Witcher UniverseContactEmail: andmytrowel@gmail.comInstagram: @‌and.my.trowelTranscriptsFor rough transcripts of this episode, go to: https://www.archpodnet.com/trowel/57ArchPodNetAPN Website: https://www.archpodnet.comAPN on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/archpodnetAPN on Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/archpodnetAPN on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/archpodnetAPN StoreAffiliatesMotion Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Cathy O'Byrne is a Child and Adolescent Psychotherapist from Shannon, who is now based in Limerick. She recently won an award for "Most Positive Impact" at the Female Founder Awards of The Club Women's Network in Cork. Alan Morrissey was joined by Cathy to find out more about her work and success. Photo (c) The Swallow's Trail Parenting Support via Facebook

This episode originally aired May 13, 2019. A 33-year old woman meets, falls in love with, and marries a successful young doctor, but an unusual amount of discomfort during her pregnancy arouses her suspicions, prompting a personal investigation that culminates in a startling revelation. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Sinkhole opening up and and ready to swallow whole neighborhood HR 2 full 2346 Mon, 24 Nov 2025 17:01:56 +0000 ZsAUjqbsgivQ8LZznEToiBSMi2gO9pBd news MIDDAY with JAYME & WIER news Sinkhole opening up and and ready to swallow whole neighborhood HR 2 From local news & politics, to what's trending, sports & personal stories...MIDDAY with JAYME & WIER will get you through the middle of your day! © 2025 Audacy, Inc. News False https://player.amperwave

The Time Riders: Part 14 Visiting old friends, and Nanu discovers hot sauce. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. A certain bedroom. If she'd been worried about feeling alone, she wasn't noticing at the moment. There were so many fascinating things around here, all requiring her examination. There was an entire world to explore, after all, and it was apparently much bigger than the one she'd left behind. It was hard to conceive of, really; a world larger than Rome, than the empire, but according to her Mistress, Re-be-kah, she was not going to run out of things to be stunned by. So far, Mistress had been right. Nanu was kneeling on the bed, minutely examining the fabric that made up the soft sheets they'd been sleeping on. She tugged at the material, noticing how it was so tough that she needn't worry about tearing it. She tugged and tugged, giggling with delight when she couldn't wreck it. How clever the people of tomorrow were! She clambered off the bed and walked over to the window. She had only briefly put on any clothes, and that was to see her Mistress to the door as she left for work. Becky had made sure Nanu understood how the front door lock worked before she left. Nanu was only wearing the burning cock-sack garment, the one with the symbol of the musical group Let Zeppli on it, but the second Mistress was gone, she'd shucked it off and scampered around naked, laughing in delight. She'd been so tempted to stand in the window wearing no clothes and shake her nude body at the world, because she promised Mistress she would stay out of trouble, because she didn't want the vigiles coming for her since she'd only just gotten here. Mistress' 'free country' wasn't as free as it sounded, at least in her opinion. The tiny Egyptian girl walked up to the window of the bedroom and leaned on the frame, sighing dreamily as she rested her chin on her arms and gazed out at the world beyond the glass. Trees were starting to be green, and the grass of Mistress' lawn was visible, along with plants that would apparently become lovely flowers. High up in the blue sky, a strange bird flew. It barely moved, just gliding along, and seemed to have an almost cruciform shape. It left a weird trail of white cloud behind. What strange animals there were in the world of tomorrow. She left the window and went into the bathroom, plunking herself down on the commode and peeing, giggling at the sound produced by the material the bowl was made from. Once she was done, she headed downstairs, feeling a mite peckish. She went up to the fridge and opened the door, fascinated by the chill she felt as she leaned in to see what was available. Re-be-kah had left food for her to eat, all prepared and with her name on it, so that she knew what was safe. Seeing as how the ba-lo had made her almost shit herself to death the day before. The parfait was sitting in a bowl, with yummy-looking red and black berries swirled into it, along with a cereal that Mistress had called 'granola'. She took that and then retrieved a few slices of homemade bread from a little wooden container on the counter. Mistress had left some utensils and butter on the table, and even the peanut butter! Nanu loved the peanut butter; she couldn't wait to have it licked off her cunt! Sated some minutes later, Nanu wandered around, examining little things about the house that she hadn't noticed yet. She was careful to not mess with any switches, because she didn't know what all of them did. Apparently they weren't all just for the lights. She jumped up and down on the sturdy long chair, which was apparently called a 'chesterfield', rolled around on the comfy rug, and diddled herself in front of a mirror, cumming loudly and shamelessly. She loved looking at herself while she masturbated, she was so beautiful! Nanu flopped back on the rug, breathing heavily after a lovely climax. Her whole body tingled, and wonderful images of herself and her Mistress fucking floated through her mind. The house was warm, in a way she'd never felt before. Living in the slave quarters, and wearing what amounted to little more than a poorly made sack for clothing, she had often been cold, and rarely warm enough to suit her. This was; wonderful. This new world confused and frightened her, but she also knew she would acclimate, and then she would be warm, well-fed, and she could fuck to her heart's content. She was going to love her new life, she was sure. She hoped Re-be-kah was having as wonderful a day as she was. The Education of Nanu, as 'The Gods Will It'. Mooredale Secondary. Becky sat behind her desk, trying to conceal the way her eyes were spiraling with exasperation and boredom. While not every student in her Physics class was a dunce, only a few of them truly cared and paid attention. Most were just doing what was required to pass. Even if they got great grades, they weren't interested in retaining the material. And then there was one young dunce in particular. She tried not to scowl at Mark, who was zoning out at his desk, looking out the window. She could see even from here that his notes were inadequate. He couldn't claim to be memorizing the material; he had the memory of a goldfish crossed with a sieve. How had he made it into this prestigious high school to begin with? She was ultimately happy he had, of course, since that meant three months from now (from his point of view), he would be taking her on adventures with the Holmes Field Device. But this twerp sitting in front of her wasn't that time traveler yet, was he? He was just some lazy kid who was going to fail her course. Then he'd come back in time to fuck her, and convince her to not fail him. She'd agree, as long as he showed her the time machine and took her on adventures. Looking at him now, she couldn't believe she'd made the agreement. But she had, and now she was stuck passing him. She couldn't get out of it if she tried. She'd solidified her personal future. Fating, as people in the time travel community called it. Once you knew for certain that something factually was going to happen to you down the road, there was nothing you could do to change it, no matter how hard you tried. You might even hurt yourself doing it. Time lock. It was a thing. So if you enjoyed feeling like you were in control of your destiny, then you did your best not to find out what was to happen to you in the future. Loose talk stops clocks, and all that. She looked at Mark again, still trying not to frown. It was so strange to think that this boy, who was weeks away from being eighteen, was the same knucklehead who would be her time-travelling companion. She'd be having sex with him, and they'd be sharing girls in the time stream, including Nanu, who was waiting for her back at home. The Mark in front of her was seventeen, almost eighteen. Time travel made the rules seem so arbitrary, and even dumb sometimes. She couldn't have sex with him right now. She couldn't sext him under her desk right now. It was illegal. Yet somehow, magically, in a few weeks, on a particular day, Mark's upcoming birthday would make him an adult, even though functionally nothing was different about his biology. This Mark didn't know that they were lovers. That they would be lovers, in any event. Like all the other dumb boys in the school, he talked about her being hot, and what he'd do to her, childish boasting and hormonal nonsense. They talked about how she tended to dress rather conservatively, but clearly she had a rocking' bod underneath her clothes. They'd seen her in the school gym a few times. Becky didn't know why she dressed so conservatively, now that she thought of it. There were certainly less attractive teachers on staff who dressed more sexily than she did. Connie Marangos, the English Lit teacher, was shaped like a pear and had a face like a foot, but she somehow managed to dress sexy. What was Becky's excuse? She didn't want to give the horny students any more masturbation material than they already got. Horny teenage boys were annoying. Even Mark was annoying. Would he get better by the time she caught up with him in the future, three months from now? She could hope, but she doubted it. He hadn't exactly proven so thus far on their adventures. Another quiet sigh escaped her as she glanced for a moment in his general direction. She wanted to pin that boy down right now and fuck him, hard. She couldn't, but she wanted to. It bothered her that she was starting to feel a tingle in her needy cunt, and there was nothing she could do about it. She'd have to wait to get home and take out her horny frustrations on Nanu. Not that the Egyptian girl would mind, of course. She thought back about what she and Mark had experienced so far in the time stream. They'd gone to seventeenth century France, gotten in several brawls, and Mark had been fatally shot, only surviving because he wasn't meant to die yet. She'd been kidnapped by Cardinal Richelieu and made a lady-in-waiting to Anne of Austria, and she'd met her own ancestor, the gorgeous, brilliant, and deadly noblewoman Alexandra D'Assaut, who had helped Mark rescue her from the Louvre, and out from right under the nose of the Sun King. Becky might have shot Porthos And might also have kicked Richelieu in the nuts. That sounded so weird, but it had happened. She was there. That, or she was on the world's longest and most intense acid trip. They went to Rome, to participate in a genuine orgy, and they'd met and bought the beautiful slave girl Nanu. The intent had been to set her free, and Becky had even paid gold for her; but Mark screwed everything up by getting arrested for fucking a Vestal Virgin, one of Rome's most sacred priestesses. One thing led to another, and they'd had to rescue him from being skewered by gladiators in the Colosseum, mostly by dropping the roof on the emperor. Mark, or 'Bonosus' as he was known in ancient Rome now, was probably the most notorious criminal in the empire not named Spartacus. It didn't surprise Becky that even in the time stream, everyone wanted to kill Mark. He had that effect on people. They'd finally brought Nanu forward in time with them, since she was hopelessly devoted to them, and leaving her on her own in Rome was dangerous for her, even if she had proof of her manumission. It had been an eventful few days since their arrival back home, with Nanu getting a crash course in the fact that everything wanted to kill her. At least to hear Nanu talk about it. Even common household items were absurdly dangerous for her, and noises that modern people just took for granted drove the younger girl nuts. Food was a big gamble with Nanu. Modern preservatives and nitrates wreaked havoc on her digestive tract, something she couldn't possibly have built any immunity to. To Becky's surprise, Nanu wasn't lactose-intolerant, because as a slave, she'd been given cow's milk, something peasants and slaves subsisted on and normal people were too good for. It was strange to Becky that bovine milk and beef had been considered low-class food back then. They'd probably change their minds if they'd ever had a filet mignon or a good porterhouse. Dumb ancient people. At least Nanu ate everything she possibly could. A yawn from Mark's direction brought her out of her reverie, and she restrained another scowl in his direction. It was nowhere near the first time he'd annoyed her with his lack of interest, but she was getting more irritated with it of late, because she knew what was coming. She had to put up with this. She had to fail him. Because his future self would come back in time and convince her to change his grade. She couldn't just give him a passing grade now to speed things up if she tried. Something would make her fail him. Which he so richly deserved. Why the universe gave this kid a time machine was beyond her. A retarded chimp would have deserved it more, and probably been less of a menace. She couldn't fuck him, not yet. But that didn't mean she couldn't fuck with him, right? "Mr. Simmons," she called in his direction, raising her eyebrow and getting everyone's attention, including his. She called him 'Mark' so regularly now that saying 'Mr. Simmons' seemed strange. "Since you are clearly well ahead of the curriculum, what with having time to yawn and stare out the window, I thought maybe you could explain the differences in the scalar and vector measurements to the class?" "I, uh;” he fumbled, looking worried now. "I;” "Well, go on," she said, gesturing with her hand. "We spent the entire second half of last week on the model, after all. The copious notes you took are still fresh, yes?" "I; that is; uh;” he said, going pale. "Dumbass," laughed one of the other boys from nearby. Several other students laughed, and Mark got pelted with crumpled-up balls of paper for looking like a dolt. Becky didn't bother feeling bad for him, since this had to happen in order for things to work out in the future. That, and the brat deserved it. A girl near the front, one Gina Felton, put her hand up, looking smug. She seemed to have the answers, generally. Becky restrained a sigh as she allowed the brown-haired girl to answer. Gina dutifully recited off the material they'd been given, even offering some explanation along the way to demonstrate that she understood what she'd been taught, not just parroting the lesson. She wasn't as smart as she thought she was, and she'd never be a physicist, but she came from a wealthy WASP family type that was so common in this neighborhood, and she was a kiss-ass to the faculty. Becky would give Gina her passing grade and get rid of her. If only were so easy with Mark. "That's, uh; that was I was gonna say," Mark added once Gina had finished her singsong response. More laughter and mockery was hurled his way. "Okay, enough, people," Becky announced, standing up to get their attention and put an end to the paper projectiles. "Miss Felton, well done. Mr. Simmons, you can stay after class and clean up the room, along with my chalkboards." Becky liked using chalk boards, because one of her two favorite professors in her university years had insisted on using them. It had seemed like magic to her when he'd used them, all these wondrous equations laid out for her, explained thoroughly, and then they were gone, replaced by more fascinating numbers, a guided tour into how the universe worked. Only he could- "Ma'am?" a voice called. "Miss Fischer?" Becky blinked, coming out of yet another reverie. She was beginning to think that maybe she shouldn't be giving Mark shit for doing it, since she kept zoning out during class, thinking about the profs. She and Nanu had a playdate with them later this week at Blackwell Manor, so she'd just have to keep it in her pants until then. "Sorry, I was remembering a lesson," she said, recovering and sitting down again, just in case she leaked through her slacks. Thankfully, they were moments away from the period ending, and she'd be free of these yahoos for another day. "Tomorrow, we'll stick our toes into the concept of Fleming's Left-Hand Rule and its application in electromagnetism. Whether you're working on the Large Hadron Collider, or your grandfather's ancient lawnmower in the future, this is a good thing to understand. Go ahead and get ready, just wait for the bell. Mr. Simmons, the chalkboard awaits your attentions." Yet more razzing at Mark's expense, while Gina just sat at her desk looking smug. As annoying as Mark was, Becky simply did not like Gina Felton. She was eighteen now, and Becky had good reason to suspect that the skinny little broad was carrying on with the History professor, Mr. Browning. The less she knew, the better. Kind of like about her own future. Ah well, she thought as she watched Mark dully begin wiping off the chalkboards and then pounding out the erasers. Not much longer to put up with this, and then the real fun begins. Just show some patience, girl. She somehow refrained from subtly taking a picture of Mark's ass with her phone. "Mistress, you're back!" Nanu chirped as she skipped up to the door, quite naked. "I didn't break anything!" "The fact that you led with that statement makes me suspicious," Becky sighed as she closed the door behind her. She then hung up her blazer on a peg and allowed the Egyptian girl to take her hand and pull her into the house. "Did you eat?" "Yes, Mistress, everything you left for me," Nanu announced proudly. "Nothing left. Did I do well?" "You ate everything I left you for you?" Becky asked, raising an eyebrow. Nanu dragged her into the dining room and gestured grandly at the table. The top was covered in plates, bowls, and containers, along with utensils. Even the peanut butter jar, which had been mostly full this morning, was seemingly licked clean. "Holy shit," Becky mumbled in English, gazing at the table. "You ate absolutely everything." "Did I do right, Mistress?" Nanu asked. What did Becky tell her? That Nanu had eaten the food she'd prepped and was meant to last for a few days? She hadn't exactly been that explicit, because she hadn't thought to tell Nanu that. She'd overlooked how voracious Nanu could be. A lifetime of slavery saw to it that Nanu ate every meal as if it might be her last. Well, that was on Becky. She'd just start again and be more concise next time about her expectations. "I'm proud of you for looking after yourself," she said finally, making the tiny girl beam with delight. "Did you have problems with anything I showed you?" "I played with the water makers a little bit, and practiced washing my hands," Nanu said, waiting impatiently while Becky started removing her work clothes. "Your soap is very different from what my masters used. It smells nice, not like piss." "Maybe because we don't use urine in our soap these days," the blonde observed as she tossed aside her skirt and then began undoing her bra. Nanu, predictably, just watched intently, almost salivating at the thought of her Mistress' tits. "So now you know how to keep yourself clean. Tonight, I'll let you try to work the shower, that way you can use it if I'm not home and you need to wash up." Nanu nodded. "It was awkward trying to get the peanut butter off my cunt. I am very flexible, but even I couldn't reach it all with my tongue. I used a cloth finally. But I tried, Mistress, I really did." "Nobody made you smear the peanut butter on yourself, silly," Becky laughed as she shucked her bra, revealing her lovely tits to Nanu. Then she bent over and peeled off her underwear. "But I'm glad you fed yourself and know how to get clean, my love. It sounds like you had a good day." "There were so many things to do, Mistress," Nanu breathed, enjoying the sight of Becky's hairless cunt. She'd never seen a more perfect cunt. "I was amazed by how strong your sheets are. And I glided up and down the hallway in my socks, and I listened to music and danced;” "I'm so pleased that you worked out the controller for the stereo," Becky cooed, caressing Nanu's cheek. The smaller girl closed her eyes, enjoying the touch before turning her head a little to kiss her Mistress' palm. "What music did you listen to?" "But I am proud to be your lover, and that you're my Mistress," Nanu protested. "And I am proud of you, Nanu," Becky assured her, giving her hands a gentle squeeze. "But just trust me on this, okay? Hearing people called 'Mistress' will be very weird to some of them. I want tonight to be fun, not awkward." Nanu sighed somewhat despondently and nodded. "So I must call you Re-be-kah tonight?" The blonde pondered the matter. "Can you say 'Becky'?" Nanu pursed her lips. "Beh-kee." "That's what all my friends call me," Becky said, pulling Nanu into a hug. It was weird to have their jackets in the way and not be able to feel their tits squashing together. "Except for M-ark," Nanu pointed out, enjoying the hug, even if she couldn't feel her mistress' tits. "He called you 'Beks'." "Well, Mark's an idiot, and he's lucky he's the one with the time machine, or I would flunk him into eternity," Becky muttered, preferring to not think about the bane of her academic existence. "Asshat." "Ass-hat;” Nanu repeated. "Mark is an ass-hat?" She's like a toddler, Becky thought, making a note to watch her language. She retains all the naughty words she shouldn't know. "Let's go, Noah Webster," Becky sighed, standing up again. "Your chariot awaits;” The Gardiner Expressway, heading south. Nanu was indeed turned sideways in her seat, despite the seatbelt, her face plastered to the window as she gaped in awe at the scenery that sped by. Aside from the endless metal monsters that were running with them or in the opposite direction, there were also tall buildings and houses, bright lights on tall posts, and even giant bridges that they went under and didn't fall on their heads! Nanu was too astonished to remember to be frightened of everything. Becky smiled as she drove, pleased that Nanu was distracted and not cowering in fear. Not that she would blame her. It had taken some convincing to get her into the car at all, but once she discovered how comfy the seats were, she warmed up to the idea quickly enough. Becky buckled her into her seat and even let Nanu honk the horn once before they pulled out. Nanu yelped in shock at the loud sound, but then clapped in delight, realizing that she could (if allowed) control the beast's roar. She took it slow at first, driving at a virtual crawl through her neighborhood, letting Nanu get a feel for the movement of the car. She was going places, but her legs weren't doing any of the work. It was like being in a palanquin or a chariot, only completely enclosed. The roar of something called an 'engine' surrounded her, replacing the clatter of iron-bound wooden wheels and horse hooves. It was almost twilight, and the lights on the tall posts glared brightly, making Nanu shield her eyes occasionally. She could see people in their own metal beasts, men and women, often with children riding along in the seats behind. She smiled brightly and waved back at one little girl who had seen her and waved to her. "We are going so fast," she breathed, almost wrenching her neck as she tried to watch cars whip by in the opposite direction. "Nobody in the world has ever gone as fast as this, I'll bet." Becky thought about that, realizing Nanu was probably right. She was going just over seventy kilometers per hour at the moment, but that was faster than anything had ever gone until locomotive engines came on the scene, once again in the mid-nineteenth century. It may have seemed slow to her, but it was light speed to Nanu. "Oh, we can go a lot faster than this, Nanu," she said casually, enjoying her lover's innocent wonder at everything. "Go faster!" Nanu urged in excitement. "Go faster than all the other metal beasts! Shame them!" "; except for maybe that one;” she added in a faltering tone as a red Ferrari whipped by, the roaring noise of its engine filling the interior of Becky's car. "How do you make the beast go faster, Mistress? I do not see reins or a whip." "It's not alive, remember? It's just a machine, a bunch of parts put together to make a mechanism," Becky answered, knowing most of this would go over Nanu's head. "I control its speed with the pedals at my feet, and which way it goes with this wheel in my hand." "Can we go faster and leave all these other beasts behind?" Becky smiled. "Not right now, my love. There are laws about how fast you're allowed to go when there are lots of other cars around. It prevents accidents." "But what could hurt us?" Nanu asked. "The beast is metal, we are surrounded by all this metal. We are invincible." "If we hit or got hit by another car, the metal won't protect us entirely," Becky pointed out, thinking that maybe she'd show Nanu some car crash safety videos, put the fear of the car gods into her. And if we hit a person, we'd pretty much kill them at this speed." Nanu thought about that. "But we'd be okay, right?" Becky sighed and resisted the urge to turn the car around. The Malted Cat, thirty minutes later. "Hi, everyone, sorry we're late," Becky called out, waving as she headed to the table where everyone was already gathered. "You know this time of night on the Gardiner, traffic was a bitch." "Bitch;” Nanu parroted, but was too far away still for anyone to hear her aside from Becky. Nanu was looking around at the establishment, which didn't remind her of any tabernus she'd ever seen before. This was loud and chaotic, with people everywhere and what might have been music blaring. People were wearing so many different outfits, some of which were almost nonexistent to Nanu. They walked up to the table, where five other people, three women, and two men, were already sitting. A few of them had the same straw-colored hair as her mistress. Two of the women were skinny, one was rather fat. One of the men was skinny and balding. She doubted he got fucked very often. Becky stopped at the table, with Nanu beside her. "Everyone, this is Nanu, she's staying with me." "Hi," Nanu said, holding up a hand and remembering the greeting word that people used in En-gush. "Hi." "Hello," they all said back pleasantly, smiling at her. She liked the fact that they greeted her and hadn't noticed she was a slave. Or at least, had been. Sometimes she worried it clung to her like a stench she would never be rid of. At least they'd brought her manumission documents with them from Rome to this world of tomorrow, just in case she had to prove it. "Nanu, let me introduce my friends and co-workers," Becky said in Latin, before pointing to people. "This is Kay, that's Shirley, this is Annie, that's Steve, and this is Ed." "What were you speaking to her just now?" Ed asked, seeming curious. He was the balding one. "Latin," Becky replied as room was made for them at the table, with Steve pulling up two more chairs. "She doesn't speak English, and I don't speak her native language, so we communicate in Latin." Becky's friends all looked at one another quizzically, but then realized that none of them spoke Latin. Becky would be interpreting all night. Frankly, that was just fine with Becky, since it allowed her to control things where Nanu was concerned. "Nanu-nanu!" Steve said to the new guest, holding his hand out sideways, fingers splayed apart in twos. Nanu seemed confused before she spread her own fingers tentatively and then slid them into Steve's, who grinned and began shaking up and down gently. "Good to meet you!" "Steve, I'm not drunk enough for Mork and Mindy jokes yet," Becky sighed, settling Nanu in a chair while the smaller girl looked at her hand curiously, still held open the way he'd shown her. What was that supposed to mean? Was it one of the standard greetings of this age? Then she started noticing small details, both of her new associates, and around the place. Her eyes widened when she saw a tattoo on the arm of the fat woman, Shir-lee. Then she noticed one on Steve. She looked around and saw that many people around this club had tattoos. She looked at Becky with concern. "So many people," she said quietly, hoping only Becky heard her. "They have stigma (tattoos). Some of your friends have them! Are we surrounded by criminals?" Becky thought about that for a moment and then shook her head. "No, Nanu. In my world, tattoos are just art. There have been times in the past where criminals or people considered undesirable have been branded, but this isn't a thing anymore. People wear tattoos because they mean something to them, or they're just art." Nanu sighed in relief. "I somehow avoided getting a tattoo or branded as a Flavian slave, I was lucky. Most of the other slaves had them, I found it humiliating." "Is she okay, Becks?" Annie asked curiously. "She looks a little spooked." Becky smiled and nodded. "The tattoos all around her freaked her out. Where she comes from, tattoos are brands on slaves or criminals and law-abiding citizens don't get them." "Well, I like to think I'm a bad girl," Shirley said in a sassy tone and wearing a wicked smile. "And I've got another tattoo in another place that'd prove it, for sure." This drew laughter from her friends, and she rolled onto one cheek subtly and patted the other one. Annie popped Shirley on the ass, making her squeak and more there was laughter around the table. "So, Nanu," Kay began, smiling across the table at her. Becky was on one side of Nanu, and Ed was on the other. Nanu almost needed a booster chair to sit at the table. Thankfully, the bouncer at the door had accepted her identification, even if he seemed skeptical at first. No doubt having Becky there helped. "Do you want a beer, honey?" Nanu knew she was being asked a question and looked at Becky, who translated. "Cervisia. Do you want one?" Nanu wrinkled her nose in distaste. "That is a barbarian's drink! I am civilized." "You thought cow's meat was barbaric until the other day too," Becky pointed out. "Now I can't keep you out of it. Your ancestors made beer before they discovered wine, you know. At least try it, it's polite. Do you remember what I told you about how to respond if someone offers you something?" Nanu looked at Kay and spoke slowly. "Please an-du fank you." Kay looked delighted and ordered beers for Nanu and Becky. The Egyptian girl settled in and just listened quietly while the conversation picked up around her. Becky had told her that she was free to simply listen, or look around the bar. If someone addressed Nanu, Becky would tell her. Nanu was more than happy to just sit quietly and observe. Beer arrived, with a tall pint glass for Becky, and a half-pint for Nanu. She frowned at her smaller glass. "Why did I get the child drink?" Becky almost laughed while Nanu seemed to glare at the golden liquid and the tiny bubbles. "First of all, children aren't allowed to drink beer because of the alcohol. Second, I got you a smaller glass in case you don't like it. Less goes to waste." Nanu glanced at Becky now. "So if I don't like it, I don't just smash the glass on the floor and demand a different drink I like?" Becky blinked. "No, darling. We are very respectful to our servers at all times." "But they are nobody." "Nanu, just; trust me on this, okay?" Becky almost pleaded. "Always be polite, always. When it time to not be polite, I'll let you know, I promise." "Fine," Nanu sighed, picking up the glass with both hands and tilting it so that she could take a sip while everyone watched. Her eyes widened and she put the glass back down on the table, her cheeks bulging as she looked at Becky in panic. "Swallow," Becky instructed. "It's fine." Hesitantly, the tiny girl swallowed and then gasped rather loudly and dramatically. "It is so cold, but it burns!" "You didn't mind when the pop was fizzing in your mouth," Becky said. "The pop was sweet. This is; why is this beer? It doesn't taste like beer at all!" "It's beer, I promise you, just that we make it differently than they did in your time." "Is she okay?" Steve asked, watching Nanu curiously. They all were, in fact. "She's never had beer like that before," Becky explained. "She only just tried pop for the first time the other day." "You said she's from Egypt?" Shirley queried. "Is she Muslim and she's not allowed to have alcohol?" "Trust me, she's not Muslim," Becky assured her co-worker while Nanu eyed her beer suspiciously. "She was a slave most of her life, and she has very limited experience with, well, just about anything. We're taking it slow, but I want her to see what her new life is all about and has to offer." "Would she like wine instead?" Kay asked. "No, let her figure this out," Becky replied, going back to her own beer. "I have yet to find anything she won't eat or drink, so give her a bit." Becky knew she'd have to get some food in Nanu before long, because Nanu's alcohol tolerance might be perilously low, especially on what was essentially an empty stomach. She'd let Nanu pick whatever sounded good, and just deal with the consequences later. There was only so easy she could make this for her. Her body needed to adapt to modern cuisine sooner or later, right? The conversation began again, mostly everyone venting about their stupid students and the idiotic things they said, did, or turned in. Every once in a while, someone asked Nanu something, and Becky translated, letting Nanu respond as best she could. But mostly, they simply adhered to Becky's rule of letting the new girl observe and listen. "I swear, this one girl is a complete moron," Annie groused. "Any of you have Angie Staples in any of your classes?" Nanu heard several of them moan and roll their eyes, almost slumping back in their chairs. They began griping about something or someone, repeating a word that sounded like a name. It reminded her of how her mistress complained about M-ark. "Hey, she's not a bigger dolt than Simmons," Becky pointed out. "That boy is hopeless in my class. If he made any less effort, he'd forget to breathe." "At least he's cute," Kay said, making Annie and Shirley laugh. "I'd totally fuck Mark if he was legal." At the mention of the name 'Mark' and the word 'fuck', Nanu perked up just slightly and then looked at Becky. And this was not lost on the other women. "Why did she just look at you when I mentioned fucking Simmons?" Kay asked, looked at Becky now. "I; no; Fischer, no;” "What?" Becky said rather defensively. "Rebecca Fischer, are you doing things with that boy?" Kay pressed, smiling slyly. Annie and Shirley's eyes lit up excitedly, whereas Ed and Steve remained silent, trying to not look put out. "Are you nuts?" Becky said rather more loudly than she should have. "He's my student!" "He's all of our students, and the only thing he's good at is Phys Ed," Annie laughed. "He's turning out to be a hunk, I saw him running track in the gymnasium with no shirt the other day. Kay's right, none of us would blame you if you were getting it in from him." "I assure you, I am not getting it in from that dough-head sitting in my classroom," Becky said firmly. It was technically true, if only because the Mark sitting in her classroom hadn't fucked her yet. "So why did Nanu look at you so suddenly?" Kay pressed, not willing to concede the point just yet. "She's heard me complaining about how abso-fucking-lutely useless he is in my class," Becky explained, which was also technically true. "He's failing harder than a SCUD missile. Makes me crazy." "I'd go crazy on him," Shirley quipped, smiling slyly behind her beer glass while Kay and Annie burst out laughing again. Becky sighed and shook her head, but at least she seemed to have deflected that particular line of inquiry. Despite Kay's contentions in private about her proclivities, most people believed Rebecca Fischer to be a prudish nun stuck in a porn star's body. Only this small crew ever saw her let her hair down, like tonight. Garlic bread, mozzarella sticks, and wings arrived at the table as an appetizer, and Becky encouraged Nanu to try everything. The teachers all watched in astonishment as she tried each of the items and then began devouring them in rapid succession. "Guess I'm buyin' this round of appetizers," Becky said, shaking her head as she watched her charge annihilate the food. "I'll buy the next round too, just to make sure everyone gets something." "Oh, I'm buyin' her a round as well, just to keep watching," Annie said in fascination while Nanu mowed through the appetizers like the Tasmanian Devil. "Do you ever feed her, Becks?" "I told you, she was literally a slave in her old life, and she eats everything in sight as a defensive measure," Becky sighed. "She's not being rude, I promise. I've literally watched her eat a pound of bologna and empty a full jar of peanut butter." "Ba-lo;” Nanu managed to mumble through a mouth full of biomass as she kept storming the appetizers. Everyone was enjoying watching, even if they had to wait for their own shares to arrive again. She also kept sipping at her beer, seeming to have dropped her objections to it. Becky realized she might actually need help from the time stream to keep this girl fed. Nanu had pretty much polished off all her food when the second round of appetizers arrived. She eyed Steve's basket of wings hungrily. He saw her staring and gestured to the steaming heap of saucy poultry. "Want to try one?" "Nanu, darling," Becky said, holding up a hand to interrupt. "You might find that' But Nanu had already stripped most of the meat off the tiny bones of one wing by the time Becky had begun to object. She was chewing away when she paused on her eyes went wide. "Steve, you jerk," Becky said, scowling at her co-worker while Nanu started trembling while still chewing, her face turning red and her eyes starting to water. "She doesn't know what suicide sauce is." Nanu had her forehead pressed against the table and was thumping her little fist against the surface, still resolutely chewing, even as she whimpered and moaned in pain. "Gotta admire her pluck, though," Kay mused, watching the tiny girl try not to writhe. "I didn't know she couldn't handle it," Steve protested. "Don't they have hot food where she comes from?" "See if I ever sub for you the next time you need a day off," grumbled the blonde, patting Nanu on the back gently while calling over a server. Fifteen minutes and a gallon of milk later. "I can't believe she ate all my wings," Steve murmured, watching Nanu polish off the last wing while staring directly at him defiantly. "A whole pound, I got like, one." "Serves you right," Becky grunted, making sure Nanu had lots of wet wipes and used them regularly in case she tried to rub her eyes. Milk wouldn't help then. "I can't believe she's still eating them," Annie said, watching with morbid fascination. "I mean, you can see they still hurt her, but she won't quit." "Now that she knows milk dulls the fire, she doesn't have to," Becky sighed, also watching while eating her own honey-garlic wings. Nanu had stolen half of those, too. The only reason Shirley and Kay's food was (mostly) safe was because Nanu was too short to reach across the table. "And she's mad at Steve, so she's making a point." She knew that she and Nanu could both regret this in a few hours, that Nanu might be up all night again in the bathroom, but apparently she was willing to risk that to get the message across; don't fuck with Nanu Tehemet. Nanu polished off the wings and then knocked back several glasses of milk Becky had lined up for her, followed by her beer. She put the last down and let out a thunderous belch that echoed around the area. Everyone's eyes widened at the noise, except for Becky, who just shook her head. People at other tables looked over, perplexed that someone so small could release such a giant noise. Annie cleared her throat. "Well, I; I hear that in some Middle Eastern cultures, burping is a sign that a person appreciates the food they were served." Nanu patted her chest with her little fist and sighed happily. "Nanu," Shirley said, getting her attention directly. She gestured to her shirt and then at Nanu's. "I like your shirt." Nanu realized what the fat woman was talking about and then beamed happily, thrusting her chest forward and thumbing at the logo. "Let Zeppli!" "Do you like them, honey?" Shirley asked. Becky translated and Nanu nodded eagerly. "Let Zeppli!" "I like them too," Shirley said, pleased to be connecting with the exotic foreign girl. "Shirley says she likes Led Zeppelin too," Becky explained, leaning in to be heard over all the noise. The karaoke had begun, and they were near the stage. "The fat one likes Zeppli?" Nanu asked, shocked. "Is she allowed?" "Nanu!" Becky gasped, bursting into snickers. "You can't just comment about people's weight like that!" "What's funny, Becks?" Annie asked, curious. Becky was still snickering as she tried to wave it off. "Pretty sure Nanu thinks only she's allowed to like Zeppelin. And maybe I'm allowed. Pop culture still eludes her." "Well, she's got the hot wings and big tits part down already, I'd say she's halfway there," Kay quipped, making everyone laugh. Shirley had excused herself from the table for a moment. More food was ordered, along with beer or cocktails, and the gripe session continued about what complete morons the kids of this day and age were becoming. And the ones that weren't morons were completely unlikable. "So how long is she stayin' with you?" Kay asked as she watched Nanu attack the jalapeno poppers. "For the foreseeable future, really," Becky answered. "Like I said, she was a slave back home, she has no life to return to, and it was borderline Stone Age subsistence. I can't just let her go, or turn her over to the system, she'll die. She knows nothing. I'm doing what I can to help her adapt and learn about her new world. One day, she'll be fine." "That's really noble of you, Rebecca," Ed stated, getting his share of an onion blossom before Nanu saw it and murdered it. "But it could be years. I'm not trying to make her sound like a pet dog, but this could be a long commitment on your part. How did you even meet her?" "Honestly?" Becky said, having a rehearsed answer already. She'd tried to anticipate as many questions as possible for tonight. "I met her in Rome. That's where I managed to get her out of her slavery life." "Wow, Becks, you have like a whole secret agent life goin' on," Annie said, sounding impressed. "When the heck did you even go to Rome?" "It seems like ages ago," Becky said rather evasively. "Frankly, things have been crazy of late and I almost can't keep track without a time machine." A round of laughter from her friends, and Becky heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't expect anyone to be making inquiries, but the fewer questions, the better. Nanu seemed oblivious, noshing away happily on more pub grub and seeming determined to try everything. She'd just plowed through the calamari Annie had bought for her. "Hey, everyone!" called a voice from the stage, sounding tinny over a microphone. Becky looked up and saw Shirley standing on stage, smiling at them all. "I'm dedicating this number to a new friend I met tonight, I hope she likes it! Nanu, this one's for you!" Nanu looked up at the mention of her name, right before the music began, blaring through the bar's speakers all around them. Her eyes flashed in excitement as she looked at Becky, grabbing her hands. "Zeppli! Zeppli!!!" she squeaked, bouncing up and down in her seat. "Yes, my love," Becky laughed. "Shirley is about to sing a Zeppelin song for you, and it's the one you know already." Nanu clapped and squealed some more, bouncing up and down in her seat as she watched the fat woman begin to sing. "Let me take you to the movie, Can I take you to the show, Let me be yours ever truly, Can I make your garden grow?" "Nanu, you should go up and dance," Becky suggested, bumping and gyrating in her seat. "I'm sure Shirley would love it." "Really, Mistress?" Nanu gasped, his features alight with eagerness. She'd forgotten to call her Mistress by her name, but nobody seemed to notice. "Just make sure you keep your clothes on, okay?" Becky warned, trying to sound serious, but winking at her lover. "Go have fun." Nanu was out of her seat like a shot and scrambling up onstage before she began to dance around, just like Becky had shown her. Everyone at the table hooted and cheered while Shirley laughed, still between stanzas. While Nanu bounced and wiggled around the stage, the teacher started singing again. The pneumatic effect Nanu's movement had on her body held everyone spellbound. Her jeans were snug enough to show off her amazing ass, and her Zeppelin shirt was stretched tight across her ample tits, which jiggled continuously. "From the Houses of the Holy, We can watch the white doves go, From the door comes Satan's daughter, And it only goes to show, that you know!" Becky laughed gaily as she watched, clapping along. She couldn't believe how well this was going! Nanu was having a blast, and even if she was going to be shitting herself all night because of the hot wings Steve had let her eat, it was a small price to pay to see the Egyptian girl absolutely radiant and doing what she did best, dancing. They'd have to do this more often, as long as she kept Nanu safe. Not that this bar was dangerous, of course. "There's an angel on my shoulder, In my hand a sword of gold, Let me wander in your garden, And the seeds of love I'll sow, you know!" Nanu spun and pranced around the stage, lost in the joy of her dancing. She never felt more alive than when she was dancing, even when she was fucking. Or at least very rarely, and pretty much never when she'd been a slave. This new world and new life were going to teach her so many wonderful new things! She stopped dancing for a moment, breathing heavily in excitement as she just watched Shirley sing, standing close enough to understand that she was singing into some little thing that looked like a black cock and made her voice echo all around the room. "So the world is spinning faster, Are you dizzy when you stall? Let the music be your master, Will you heed the master's ca" In her mounting excitement, Nanu had grabbed the microphone out of Shirley's hands and was now closing her eyes and singing into it with all her heart. "Ah; Wa-Oh-Gur-Oah! Or-Nyu-Wo-Ah!" The entire audience was just watching in confused and then stunned silence as Nanu wailed discordantly into the microphone, assaulting everyone's ears with the blistering noise she was making. Eventually, even the recording of the Zeppelin song was halted, and Nanu was screeching to a silent space. Realizing the music had ended, she opened her eyes and then paused, seeing everyone gaping at her. But then a group at one large table right next to the one she'd been sitting at burst into derisive laughter, jeering and mocking her, apparently imitating the sounds she'd been making, and also flailing their limbs about like they were having seizures. Their faces were screwed up, made to look like the cursed child jesters that the Roman elite kept at their courts and made fun of. They were making fun of her! "Hey, someone get the retard off the stage!" guffawed one man, still mocking her by slapping a limp hand and forearm against his chest and making the stupid face. His buddies howled with laughter as he imitated her sound again. Until he was spun in his chair and Becky's fist slammed across his jaw, snapping his head to the right and knocking him out cold. Everyone at the table went very still, not daring to move as Becky glared at them all, her blue eyes flashing menacingly. "Anyone else?" she challenged. The men all stayed silent, not daring to say a word of move a muscle. "That's what I thought," she growled, standing up now and looking down at them in contempt. "Fucking cowards." She looked over at the door and caught the attention of the bouncer on shift, an imposing guy named Jake. She tilted her head at the idiot she'd just coldcocked, and he nodded, knowing he was about to clear out that table and make them take their unconscious friend home. He'd seen Becky drop guys before, and it was always justified. If she hadn't dealt with them for mocking the screaming girl, he might have. Thankfully, it was seen to. "C'mon, honey," Becky said, walking up to the stage and removing the mic from Nanu's hands, while she just stared at her Mistress, seemingly frozen. "Shirley, take over, will you?" Shirley nodded and got another song going, beginning to sing again while Becky led Nanu back to her seat. Around the bar, things had returned to normal. Nanu still seemed silent and very out of sorts. Becky sat her down and took her hands, smiling at her. "I'm sorry, honey," she said softly, caressing the crestfallen girl's cheek. "What they did was wrong. He deserved to get punched, I promise you." Nanu looked up at her now, perplexed. "Am I; am I that awful to listen to, Mistress?" Becky apparently hesitated a split second too long, because Nanu seemed aghast at the lack of response. "I am terrible! Please, Mistress, tell me! How bad am I? Be honest." A deep breath as Becky composed her thoughts. "Truth, Nanu?" The Egyptian girl nodded nervously. "You; well, it; it sounded like a cat getting run over by a chariot with knives for wheels," Becky confessed, blushing while the other teachers looked on, having a fairly good idea what was happening, even if none of them spoke Latin. She smiled somewhat wanly. "Maybe; just stick to dancing, okay? You're so very good at that, after all;” Nanu slumped back in her chair, seemingly in disbelief, even failing to notice the table right next to them getting cleared out by the bouncer. She stared off into space for some seconds, not even noticing the other Zeppelin song that Shirley was now singing. "I'm terrible," she murmured to herself. "Cats getting murdered sounds better than me singing;” She then blinked and looked at Becky, seemingly her normal self. "Oh well. May I have more food and another beer now?" Becky laughed in relief and nodded. No trauma seemed to affect Nanu for too long. She always had food and fucking to retreat to. She ordered more hot wings, knowing Nanu felt she had even more to prove now. An hour later. "So you seemed like you had a good time, hmm?" Becky mentioned as she drove north on the Gardiner, taking them home. It was quite dark out, and she hoped against hope that Nanu wouldn't be up all night in the bathroom, or that she wanted to stay awake and fuck, because Becky had to work in the morning. "I did, Mistress," Nanu replied, nodding as she sat in her seat. She wasn't turned sideways with her face plastered to the window, watching the world race by. In fact, she was sitting rather placidly, her eyes somewhat unfocused. "And the food was all so good. And I think I'm drunk." Becky smiled. "We'll deal with that when we get home. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Should we do it again?" "Can we?" Nanu gasped in delight, seemingly excited. "Let's do it every night!" "Not every night," laughed the blonde. "I can't afford to go out to eat and drink every night. But if you're good, maybe we'll make a treat of it once a week. There are lots of other places to try as well." "As long as assholes don't make fun of me for singing," Nanu sniffed, determined to not get over being impugned. "I hope they dumped him behind the building and people walking by just put their dicks in his mouth while he was sleeping." Becky smirked. Nanu clearly had a vengeful streak in her. Not that she blamed her, mind. Nanu had to simply watch while Becky meted out the punishment. She doubted Nanu was capable of inflicting any real damage on people who slighted her. "Do you think you can teach me to drive this beast, Mistress?" the tiny woman asked. "That's a long way off, honey," Becky replied. Hell, she doubted Nanu could see over the dashboard and reach the pedals at the same time. "Let's conquer walking properly in running shoes before moving on to wheeled death machines, shall we?" Nanu huffed and crossed her arms, looking put out. "I wouldn't run down THAT many people;” she muttered. Becky's home, half an hour later. They managed to close the front door behind them before they fell to their knees, arms wrapped around one another and kissing hungrily. They moaned as they began removing their clothes, swallowing each other's tongues. Earlier, Becky had hoped to make it through the night without any romantic interludes because she had to work tomorrow, but in the car, Nanu had started being naughty, reaching over and rubbing Becky's crotch or fondling her tits. It also didn't help when she shimmied down her jeans and began fingering her cunt, teasing Becky and nearly causing her to drift off the road more than once. A trucker had cruised by them, looking down at them from his cab. Nanu had lifted her shirt to show off her tits, as well as stroking her nether lips plainly for him to see. He'd honked his horn loudly in approval, despite the late hour. And Becky was obviously hornier than she'd been willing to admit, and she couldn't even blame it on alcohol, since she'd only had two beers and one cosmopolitan. No, she just wanted to fuck, and Nanu

Send us a textToday we FINISH our coverage of the original Wicked Years 4-book series by Gregory Maguire with the finale: Out of Oz, told from the perspective of Elphaba's granddaughter Rain as she navigates the world as a stowaway during a politically tumultuous turnover of power. Was the grand finale everything we hoped it would be after the blood, sweat, and tears we put in analyzing this extremely political fantasy journey? Stick around to find out! Check out our kickoff  “Are Books Political" episode all about why books and reading are inherently political and why it's not only important to acknowledge this, but to read our favorite books through this lens. We concluded during our subsequent deep dive of Wicked (book one), Son of a Witch (book 2), and A Lion Among Men (book 3) that Maguire intentionally uses the fantastical to expertly critique issues like authoritarianism, colonialism, and racism, just to name a few.In this episode we dive into book four: Out of Oz, in which we see a conclusion for almost all the characters, and an ending that neither of us expected. Are we happy with the ending after all has been said and done? Who's left ruling Oz? Is Rain following in the footsteps of her grandmother?We give our spoiler free reviews, then get into our faves and least faves, and then take you to political / philosophical town for one more big discussion about the central themes, and how Gregory Maguire uses fiction as a tool to analyze the real world. Fantasy stories can be so much more than surface level storytelling, and often are. We're here to discover why! Listen on for our reviews of book four, our deep dive reactions with five sentence summary, and fun facts about the Wicked Universe! And don't worry, we didn't forget! After these books end, there's only one book left to cover: the prequel Elphie which came out fourteen years after Out of Oz. Tune back in next Friday if you're wondering if this new addition to the Wicked universe is worth the read! Don't be shy, subscribe! New Podcasts every Tuesday!! (And sometimes Friday!…)Check out these author interviews? ⬇️We interviewed Callie Hart all about her NYT Bestseller Quicksilver! Watch it here! https://youtu.be/CED5s7qDBdQ?si=8xtIRO1IzX6Rsld4Check the official Author Interview with Lindsay Straube of Split or Swallow! Now a Barnes & Noble & Amazon best seller titled: Kiss of the Basilisk!  https://youtu.be/fknhocSNIKMShop bookish apparel worn in this episode!Ashley is wearing: A Wicked tee from Lamb Comedy | *  https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTHcMV23XxMXm-nPfQx/Liz is wearing: A Wicked The Musical Tees from Broadway | https://wickedthemusicalstore.com/collections/apparelAny link with an * is an affiliate link through the service Magic Links and is eligible for a commission to us with no extra cost to you. Thank you for helping support our podcast!Support the showYouTube | TikTok | Instagram | Podcast Platforms@BestiesandtheBooksPodcast Besties and the Book Club on Fable!https://fable.co/bestiesandthebookclub-474863489358Liz Instagram | TikTok@TheRealLifeVeganWife AshleyInstagram | TikTok@AshleyEllix

The two AVG cheese heads are back after a close Packers win vs the Giants. Are we back? Is Luke Musgrave worth throwing out there every Sunday? Is there a Dominique Daffney sighting on the horizon? Wherefore out thou Rashan Gary? Edgerrin Cooper? Is it time to give Zero Fucks some flowers? All that and more in Episode 226. Go Pack Go

In this episode, Dr. Vincent Mukkada (Cincinnati) joins us to demystify eosinophilic esophagitis (EoE). Together, we explore how to take a good history in children in whom EoE is suspected, treatment strategies, and innovations for ongoing monitoring. Whether you're managing the initial diagnosis or ongoing care for these patients, the conversation won't get stuck thanks to an episode full of helpful information for you!

Ralph is joined by Grant Tecson to dive deep into the current NBA season, discussing standout performances, team struggles, and potential trades. They highlight Nikola Jokic's historic start, the Boston Celtics' challenges, and the Memphis Grizzlies' need for a rebuild. The conversation also touches on Victor Wembanyama's impact, the surprising competitiveness of the Toronto Raptors, and the Oklahoma City Thunder's success despite injuries. Additionally, they explore the Detroit Pistons' potential, Kon Knueppel's impressive rookie season, and the dominance of the Western Conference. The episode wraps up with a discussion on players to watch and dream trades that could reshape the league.Chapters00:00 Welcome and NBA Overview02:15 Nikola Jokic: Breaking Basketball10:10 Boston Celtics: A Team in Trouble16:16 Memphis Grizzlies: Time for a Rebuild?22:29 Victor Wembanyama: The Future of the NBA27:32 Toronto Raptors: Surprising Success32:39 NBA Salaries: The Absurdity of Money33:19 Oklahoma City Thunder's Surprising Success39:33 Detroit Pistons: A Team to Watch44:32 Rookie Spotlight: Khan Knipple's Impact50:45 Western Conference Dominance52:35 Player Hater: The Frustration with Jordan Poole56:29 Dream Trades: Exploring Potential Moves

Books mentioned in this episode: All The White Friends I Couldn't Keep: Hope and Hard Pills to Swallow About Fighting For Black Lives by Andre HenryHow to Resist Amazon and Why by Danny CaineLibro.fmLibro.fm is an employee-owned social purpose corporation that shares profits from your audiobook purchases with your chosen bookstore, giving you the power to keep money within your local economy. It's also a great alternative to Audible, which is an audiobook platform owned by Amazon.The Lit bae Bookshop Homepagehttps://libro.fm/thelitbaebookshopBookshop.orgBookshop.org works to connect readers with independent booksellers all over the world.‍We believe local bookstores are essential community hubs that foster culture, curiosity, and a love of reading, and we're committed to helping them thrive.Every purchase on the site financially supports independent bookstores. Our platform gives independent bookstores tools to compete online and financial support to help them maintain their presence in local communities.If you would like to gift me a book from bookshop.org, here is the link: https://bookshop.org/wishlists/89c2b233c4293884fbe0b77cb955c86378c22f28I also have curated a shop on Bookshop.org of the books I enjoy: https://bookshop.org/shop/LitbaepodPango BooksPangoBooks is a social marketplace for readers to buy and sell books and connect with one another.Our app for iPhone and Android devices makes it super easy for anyone to list books for sale, and the process for shipping and getting paid is as simple as can be. It's like opening your own little bookshop.Here is a link to my Pango Books shop:https://pangobooks.com/bookstore/litbaepodLibby AppLibby is a free app where you can enjoy ebooks, digital audiobooks, and magazines from your public library. You can stream titles with Wi-Fi or mobile data, or download them for offline use and read anytime, anywhere. All you need to get started is a library card.Hooplahoopla is the digital service of Midwest Tape, a leading provider of entertainment media products and services: DVDs, CDs, audiobooks and shelf-ready solutions, to public libraries across North America for over a quarter of a century. Our purpose has always been to partner with libraries in delivering the best content to patrons in the most streamlined manner possible. Through the years, we've cultivated a growing passion for the evolving public library.hoopla Digital builds on that passion by providing public libraries of all sizes the ability to offer patrons an enormous selection of digital video (movies and TV shows), music, audiobooks, Ebooks and comics to their patrons. For these libraries, we've pioneered a unique model that allows patrons to borrow content immediately, removing artificial availability constraints and maximizing the power of digital content and Internet distribution. Technologically, we focus on the latest browser, phone, tablet, and TV products to deliver the best possible experience to our user – our passion – the public library patron.The StorygraphWe'll help you track your reading and choose your next book based on your mood and your favorite topics and themes. An excellent alternative to Good Reads, which is owned by Amazon. https://www.thestorygraph.com/

You can send and text and we love them.. but apparently we cant respond. Sorry!!A daily dose of good news in two minutes time... give or takeSupport the showJoin us on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/groups/awesomenewsdailyor email me at awesomenewsdaily@gmail.com

Send us a textToday we continue our coverage of the Wicked 5-book universe by Gregory Maguire with book three: A Lion Among Men, the only book in the series primarily told through the point of view and perspective of an Animal. The “Wicked Years” move forward with spinoff stories covering all the major players in the political upheaval of Oz, and we're diving into the “real” story of “the cowardly lion.”Check out our kickoff  “Are Books Political" episode all about why books and reading are inherently political and why it's not only important to acknowledge this, but to read our favorite books through this lens. We concluded during our subsequent deep dive of Wicked (book one) and Son of a Witch (book 2) that Maguire intentionally uses the fantastical to expertly critique issues like authoritarianism, colonialism, and racism, just to name a few.In this episode we dive into book three: A Lion Among Men, released thirteen years after Wicked, which follows the life of Sir Brrr, disenfranchised Animal, Oz Sycophant, Dorothy companion, and ultimately a friend to the rebel cause as he grapples with what it means to contain all of these different identities in the politically broken landscape of Oz. Who were our favorite and least favorite characters and plot points? Was this book what we expected?  Do we think these books can be separated from politics just because they're fantasy?  What philosophical questions are posed? And what literary devices does Maguire use to critique things like the use of propaganda by governments to sway public opinion and the subsequent construction of “history?”Fantasy stories can be so much more than surface level storytelling, and often are. We're here to discover why! Listen on for our reviews of book three, our deep dive reactions with five sentence summary, and fun facts about the book that started the Wicked phenomena! Don't be shy, subscribe! New Podcasts every Tuesday!! (And sometimes Friday!…)Shop our Merch line | https://besties-and-the-books-shop.fourthwall.comCheck out these author interviews? ⬇️Check the official Author Interview with Lindsay Straube of Split or Swallow! Now a Barnes & Noble & Amazon best seller titled: Kiss of the Basilisk!  https://youtu.be/fknhocSNIKM____Shop The Podcast Inside Your HouseWeird Horror. Created by Kevin Schrock and Annie Marie Morgan. Listen on: Apple Podcasts Spotify You've Got to Be Critting MeMagic, mayhem, and moral dilemmas, an actual play with heart and hilarity!Listen on: Apple Podcasts SpotifySupport the showYouTube | TikTok | Instagram | Podcast Platforms@BestiesandtheBooksPodcast Besties and the Book Club on Fable!https://fable.co/bestiesandthebookclub-474863489358Liz Instagram | TikTok@TheRealLifeVeganWife AshleyInstagram | TikTok@AshleyEllix

Are you able to swallow a pill without any water? Join Intern John, Sos, and Rose as we figure out if everyone can do it or not and more!Make sure to also keep up to date with ALL of our podcasts we do below that have new episodes every week: The Thought Shower Let's Get Weird Crisis on Infinite Podcasts See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

What if the reason swallowing, speaking, or even breathing feels difficult is not physical but rooted in your nervous system?     On today's show, we explore how chronic stress, low vagal tone, and sympathetic nervous system dominance can make everyday functions feel challenging.     I will explain the crucial role of the vagus nerve and how your body's fight-or-flight response can interfere with swallowing, vocal strength, and relaxed breathing. I will also share simple ways you can restore balance and help your body function as it is meant to.     Join me on today's Cabral Concept 3567 as we uncover the root causes of these symptoms and explore practical strategies to heal from the inside out.     Enjoy the show! - - - For Everything Mentioned In Today's Show: StephenCabral.com/3567 - - - Get a FREE Copy of Dr. Cabral's Book: The Rain Barrel Effect - - - Join the Community & Get Your Questions Answered: CabralSupportGroup.com - - - Dr. Cabral's Most Popular At-Home Lab Tests: > Complete Minerals & Metals Test (Test for mineral imbalances & heavy metal toxicity) - - - > Complete Candida, Metabolic & Vitamins Test (Test for 75 biomarkers including yeast & bacterial gut overgrowth, as well as vitamin levels) - - - > Complete Stress, Mood & Metabolism Test (Discover your complete thyroid, adrenal, hormone, vitamin D & insulin levels) - - - > Complete Food Sensitivity Test (Find out your hidden food sensitivities) - - - > Complete Omega-3 & Inflammation Test (Discover your levels of inflammation related to your omega-6 to omega-3 levels) - - - Get Your Question Answered On An Upcoming HouseCall: StephenCabral.com/askcabral - - - Would You Take 30 Seconds To Rate & Review The Cabral Concept? The best way to help me spread our mission of true natural health is to pass on the good word, and I read and appreciate every review!  

Send us a textJust in case you haven't noticed… we are completely OBSESSED with the Split or  Swallow universe, created by the amazingly talented and hilarious Lindsay Straube. Last year we did a deep dive and our very first author interview with Lindsay covering all things Kiss of the Basilisk, and now we're back to yap about the highly anticipated sequel Between Two Kings! Out today! Last week we had Lindsay on for a spoiler free interview picking her brain on what it's like to go from independent to traditional publishing in just a short year, what we can expect from this sequel and the upcoming prequel (yay!), and what's on the horizon, including book tours and new projects. Today we're following up with a spoiler filled deep dive of Between Two Kings where we discuss everything, including the ending heard ‘round the world. We even include an exclusive clip of Lindsay addressing the ending and what it symbolizes for her, just in case any of you are dying to talk about it!! We know we were! Follow along for our official reviews, favorite tropes, characters, and themes, and what parts were maybe not our favorite. Do we recommend Between Two Kings? And if so, do we think YOU should pick it up? And as usual, we're bringing you our fave and fail of the week and a smash or pass, monster style. Don't be shy, subscribe! New Podcasts every Tuesday!! (And sometimes Friday!…) + SHOP OUR NEW BESTIES and the BOOKS X CROW Merch! | * https://besties-and-the-books-shop.fourthwall.comPREORDER BETWEEN TWO KINGS: * https://amzn.to/47C8ULP Check out our coverage of the Split or Swallow Universe! ⬇️

57 minutes of sharp, fast, freaky techno from the underground pop star. Long before SoundCloud made him famous, RJ Glasgow was already producing edits from his bedroom in Philadelphia. The artist now known as LSDXOXO spliced R&B classics with DMX Krew and Madonna, then graduated from bedroom producer to internet provocateur with his 2010 mix series Spit or Swallow, where La Roux met Ratatat and Rihanna collided with Crystal Castles. A decade later, that same DIY energy has taken him far beyond the online underground. Now based in Berlin, Glasgow has opened for Beyoncé on her Renaissance tour, remixed Kelela, Lady Gaga and Björk, and taken his Floorgasm party worldwide. His RA Mix captures that evolution in full flight. Across 57 minutes and 26 tracks, RA.1012 tears through shades of contemporary techno—from big-room precision (Adam Beyer) to looping hardgroove (Italia 90, River Moon) and razor-sharp edits (EsDeeKid & Fakemink). “Maybe my music invokes that freaky feeling,” he told Resident Advisor in 2022. “A lot of people have that inner freak.” That spirit still drives him today—sensual, chaotic, unapologetic—and reminds us that wherever he plays, LSDXOXO will always be a club kid. Find the tracklist and Q&A at https://ra.co/podcast/1031 @lsdxoxo

Tom Cox has had a long and varied writing career. Over the last 25 years he has been The Guardian's youngest ever music critic, a record dealer, a golf and nature memoirist, and a unique creative writer. He's said to have 'one of the most fabulous and anarchic imaginations in literature'.Tom finds finds magic in the everyday, from country ramblings and folklore to melancholic cats and oddball corners of the country. He's published the golf memoir, 'Bring Me The Head of Sergio Garcia', also nature books, '21st Century Yokel', and many books about cats. He's a Sunday Times Bestseller, won a Shirley Jackson Horror Writing Award, and was longlisted for the Wainwright Prize. He also banned himself from writing journalism again.He chose to post all his writings online, and then crowd-funded a book, which did very well, very quickly. It's been a sticky year or so, as 'Unbounded' went out of business, and it's forced Tom to go back to traditional publishing. Tom has just released the novel, 'Everything Will Swallow You', which tells the story of Eric and his confidante Carl. Their friendship is the only constant in an ever-changing world, but there's something about Carl that you'd never believe.We discuss how he tries to keep it fun, why so much of his inspiration comes from walking, and why parts of his career have brought out the worst in social media. You can hear why he's in a genre of one, what caused him to give up journalism, and the rule he keeps in mind when editing.Get a copy of the book - uk.bookshop.org/shop/writersroutineSupport the show -patreon.com/writersroutineko-fi.com/writersroutinewritersroutine.com@writerspod Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Send us a textFirst EXCLUSIVE Author Interview with Lindsay Straube for Between to Kings is here!Just a short year ago Kiss of the Basilisk (or Split or Swallow for those of you who've been here since the beginning

Send us a textToday we continue our coverage of the Wicked 5-book universe by Gregory Maguire with book two: Son of a Witch! We're diving into political fantasy like we never have before, just in time to watch Wicked for Good with all of you! Check out our kickoff  “Are Books Political" episode all about why books and reading are inherently political and why it's not only important to acknowledge this, but to read our favorite books through this lens. We concluded during our subsequent deep dive of Wicked (book one) that Maguire intentionally uses the fantastical to expertly critique issues like authoritarianism, colonialism, and racism, just to name a few.In this episode we dive into book two: Son of a Witch, released ten years after Wicked, which follows the life of Liir, protege and possible son of Elphaba as he grapples with what it means to be a soldier, a “man,” a human, and a possible rebel and military deserter. Who were our favorite and least favorite characters and plot points? Was this book what we expected?  Do we think these books can be separated from politics just because they're fantasy?  What philosophical questions are posed? And what literary devices does Maguire use to critique government structures like the military industrial complex, and the ensuing “isms?”Fantasy stories can be so much more than surface level storytelling, and often are. We're here to discover why! Listen on for our reviews of book two, our deep dive reactions with five sentence summary, and fun facts about the book that started the Wicked phenomena! Don't be shy, subscribe! New Podcasts every Tuesday!! (And sometimes Friday!…)Shop our Merch line | https://besties-and-the-books-shop.fourthwall.comCheck out these author interviews? ⬇️Penn Cole talks with us about Strong Female Characters, Feminist Themes, and her debut bestselling Spark of the Everflame Series! https://youtu.be/7ukNImyoObw?si=7C3Y9kOUMN4hfcKbWe interviewed Callie Hart all about her NYT Bestseller Quicksilver! Watch it here! https://youtu.be/CED5s7qDBdQ?si=8xtIRO1IzX6Rsld4Check the official Author Interview with Lindsay Straube of Split or Swallow! Now a Barnes & Noble & AmThe Podcast Inside Your HouseWeird Horror. Created by Kevin Schrock and Annie Marie Morgan. Listen on: Apple Podcasts Spotify You've Got to Be Critting MeMagic, mayhem, and moral dilemmas, an actual play with heart and hilarity!Listen on: Apple Podcasts SpotifySupport the showYouTube | TikTok | Instagram | Podcast Platforms@BestiesandtheBooksPodcast Besties and the Book Club on Fable!https://fable.co/bestiesandthebookclub-474863489358Liz Instagram | TikTok@TheRealLifeVeganWife AshleyInstagram | TikTok@AshleyEllix

Tequila delivers a shocking, high-stakes thriller that blends legal drama, betrayal, and survivalFrom the fiery heart of Mexico to the high-stakes boardrooms of Manhattan, an empire built on tequila becomes the battlefield for a blistering war of power, betrayal, and forbidden love in Tim Reuben's explosive debut thriller, TEQUILA: A Story of Love, Sex & Violence (Meridian Editions; October 14, 2025).Tim Reuben unleashes a thriller that follows three generations of the Ramirez family as they fight to control a multi-billion-dollar tequila empire while navigating betrayal, drug cartels, and devastating personal loss. When Maria Ramirez takes the reins as CEO of RAM—a luxury spirits powerhouse—she steps into a role plagued by enemies both outside and within: her corrupt, sociopathic brother Miguel and her spiraling, self-destructive brother Tomaso. Their actions threaten to not only destroy the company but bring the entire family to the edge of ruin—and death.Enter Brian Youngman, a Los Angeles attorney with a fierce moral compass and a deep commitment to justice. Initially hired to handle a contentious divorce case involving the Ramirez family, Brian is pulled into a terrifying underworld of smuggling, murder, and corporate corruption. Torn between his growing love for Maria and his professional ethics, Brian becomes a reluctant hero—a lawyer forced to make impossible choices as he helps unravel a web of financial crimes, cartel ties, and unimaginable violence.As the story explodes across global backdrops—from Manhattan skyscrapers and Mexican agave fields to the dark waters of the Gulf and billowing moors in Scotland—Maria and Brian must outwit assassins, survive captivity, and battle their own guilt to expose the truth. But in a world where family means power, and power demands blood, justice doesn't come without sacrifice.With searing legal drama and pulse-pounding twists, TEQUILA is a genre-bending epic—a gripping blend of courtroom suspense, emotional reckoning, and explosive thriller.TIM REUBEN is a graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Law School. He's a veteran trial lawyer and founded his own litigation firm in Los Angeles, where he also actively publishes articles on topics of law and society. Inspired by his legal experiences, Reuben presents his first wholly fictional “thriller-killer” novel, Tequila. When not practicing law or writing, Reuben plays tennis and golf, hikes with his wife and two big dogs, and enjoys imbibing aged spirits, including tequila.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/arroe-collins-unplugged-totally-uncut--994165/support.

Joining Iain Dale on Cross Question are the Conservative Shadow Energy Security Secretary Claire Coutinho, Labour MP Peter Swallow, the Good Growth Foundation's Theresa Bischoff and the Free Speech Union's Connie Shaw.

Send us a textIt's that time of year again! Time to react to AITA Halloween Stories, time to put on our special surprise wigs, try not to laugh at literally everything we say, and give you guys the spoiler free Halloween rundown! We've got a spooky season fave and fail including a holiday meet cute, and the official Scream House, a smash or pass (fictional) serial killer / monster edition, and a whole lot of hilarious Am I the A Hole scenarios with one thing in common: Halloween. Are they justified for their outburst at being bested at a halloween costume contest by A DOG?! Is she the a hole for not telling her “super vegan” neighbor she was eating gelatin candy until it was too late? What about childhood trauma about a mom dressing up her daughter as… you guessed it… a HOTDOG?! We bring you all of these, and more, plus our seasonal book recommendations and fall hopefuls on our neverending TBR lists. See you there, ghouls!

Send us a textToday we begin our coverage of the Wicked 5-book universe by Gregory Maguire. We're diving into political fantasy like we never have before, just in time to watch Wicked for Good with all of you! Check out our latest Tuesday full length episode https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R1Z1NeJej2k all about why books and reading are inherently political, why it's not only important to acknowledge this, but to read our favorite books through this lens, and how Maguire uses the fantastical to expertly critique issues like authoritarianism, colonialism, and racism. We also provide a bit of context by discussing what political happenings were taking place when Wicked was written, and what influences the Wizard of Oz and L. Frank Baum may have had on this more current work. In this episode we dive into book one: Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West in which we experience the hostile takeover of Oz by the Wizard, a fascist dictator, through the eyes of Elphaba, the flawed and ultimately the unfortunate martyr to the resistance. Who were our favorite and least favorite characters and plot points? Do we think these books can be separated from politics just because they're fantasy?  What philosophical questions are posed? And what literary devices does Maguire use to critique government structures and the ensuing “isms?”Fantasy tales can be so much more than surface level storytelling, and often are. We're here to discover why! Listen on for our reviews of book one, our deep dive reactions, and fun facts about the book that started the Wicked phenomena!WICKED Movie 1 VS Book? | https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqvJvfaD61A Don't be shy, subscribe! New Podcasts every Tuesday!! (And sometimes Friday!…)Shop our Merch line | https://besties-and-the-books-shop.fourthwall.comCheck out these author interviews? ⬇️Penn Cole talks with us about Strong Female Characters, Feminist Themes, and her debut bestselling Spark of the Everflame Series! https://youtu.be/7ukNImyoObw?si=7C3Y9kOUMN4hfcKbWe interviewed Callie Hart all about her NYT Bestseller Quicksilver! Watch it here! https://youtu.be/CED5s7qDBdQ?si=8xtIRO1IzX6Rsld4Check the official Author Interview with Lindsay Straube of Split or Swallow! Now a Barnes & Noble & Amazon best seller titled: Kiss of the Basilisk!  https://youtu.be/fknhocSNIKM____Shop bookish apparel worn in this episode!Ashley and Liz are both wearing Wicked The Musical Tees from Broadway | https://wickedthemusicalstore.com/collections/apparelAny link with an * is an affiliate link through the service Magic Links and is eligible for a commission to us with no extra cost to you. Thank you for helpinSupport the showYouTube | TikTok | Instagram | Podcast Platforms@BestiesandtheBooksPodcast Besties and the Book Club on Fable!https://fable.co/bestiesandthebookclub-474863489358Liz Instagram | TikTok@TheRealLifeVeganWife AshleyInstagram | TikTok@AshleyEllix

Send us a text“Are people born wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?”Today we will be exploring the highly debated topics of whether or not books are inherently political, if politics can even be separated from literature (and fantasy) in general, and if the very acts of reading and publishing have been politicized. We will be exploring all of these questions through an intersectional feminist lens, specifically focusing on Gregory Maguire's popular book Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, turned one of the longest running broadway musicals of all time, turned top grossing film adaptation of a broadway musical.There are five books in the Wicked universe that Gregory Maguire has released throughout the last 30 years and we are covering them all. Beginning this Friday with book one: Wicked, and followed by the next 3 in the original series, the prequel Elphie totaling five book deep dive episodes, and ending with our wrap up episode ranking all of the books, the series as a whole, the broadway musical, and the movie adaptations. We even timed everything just right so we can discuss the new movie with y'all! Today we dive deep into where the original Oz story came from, why and how books, publishing, and the very act of reading itself have been heavily influenced by political climate and decisions, and how this comes through in fiction and fantasy. We discuss political and historical decisions in relation to book bans, public education and literacy, the publishing industry, because fiction (fantasy included) cannot separate itself from the society, the laws, the constraints, and the limitations of its time. It exists within the context it is produced, and it acts as a reflection and often an intentional critique of the political climate and society it came from. AND that work itself can then influence for good or evil, change. We are here to enjoy these books, but we are also here to discuss how important they are to a greater conversation about humanity, good and evil, the origins of prejudice, free will, and the influence of power, among many other themes. We hope that by just talking these things out with you and each other, we can keep the IMPORTANT conversation at the forefront. That fighting with each other about whether or not books are political in the first place takes the focus off of the real questions these authors wanted us to ask. Or as Elphaba said: “Well that's it, that's all part of it. You can't divorce your particulars from politics.”Don't be shy, subscribe! New Podcasts every Tuesday!! (And sometimes Friday!…) SHOP OUR NEW BESTIES and the BOOKS X CROW Merch! | * https://besties-and-the-books-shop.fourthwall.comCheck out these author interviews? ⬇️We interviewed Callie Hart all about her NYT Bestseller Quicksilver! Watch it here! https://youtu.be/CED5s7qDBdQ?si=8xtIRO1IzX6Rsld4Check the official Author Interview with Lindsay Straube of Split or Swallow! Now a Barnes & Noble & Amazon best seller titled: Kiss of the Basilisk!  Support the showYouTube | TikTok | Instagram | Podcast Platforms@BestiesandtheBooksPodcast Besties and the Book Club on Fable!https://fable.co/bestiesandthebookclub-474863489358Liz Instagram | TikTok@TheRealLifeVeganWife AshleyInstagram | TikTok@AshleyEllix

THEME- Hostage Deal Aftermath; Libs Can't Swallow the Truth; Leticia Defiant; Nude Bikers Fight ICE by Barak Lurie

Send us a textToday we're bringing you a deep dive follow up to a very exciting and mostly spoiler free author interview episode with Hazel Mack all about the monster romcom series that stole our hearts: Haven Ever After! We'll be discussing all NINE books that complete this lighthearted happily ever after series including eight full length books, and one short novella. This series has every type of monster - gargoyles to vampires, witches to werewolves, and everyone in between… and they are ALL falling in love. Single dad, sports romance, enemies to lovers, fated mates, second chance romance, and he falls first are just some of the tropes we love. And don't worry… every book is at least a 3-4 on the spice scale, despite the Gilmore Girls vibes.

Send us a textEpisode 572"The Last Frontier"Actors: Dominic Cooper and Hayley Bennett.You might know Dominic from "Preacher", and "Captain America" and Hayley from "Swallow" and "Girl on the Train" amongst other things.Dominic and Hayley join me to talk about their promising new show "The Last Frontier". We discuss that banger of a first episode, Con Air,  that grand entrance, halloween costumes, Hannibal Lecter and biting two year olds.Welcome, Dominic Copper and Hayley Bennett!#thelastfrontier #appletvplus #appletv #preacher #dominiccooper #hayleybennett #conair #thedarkknightrises #darkknight #bane #hanniballecter #swallow #girlonthetrain #captainamerica #marvelcomics #marvelstudios #howardstark #marvelcomics #marvel Reach out to Darek Thomas and Monday Morning Critic!Instagram:   / mondaymorningcritic  Facebook:   / mondaymorningcritic  TikTok:   / mondaymorningcritic  Mondaymorningcritic@gmail.com

In each Random Bird Thursday (RBT) episode, the goal is to highlight a bird species that probably isn't going to get featured in a full-length podcast episode. These are birds we might overlook, even though they certainly deserve some appreciation and attention. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!The featured species in this episode is the Arabian Bustard (Aredotis arabs).Support the show

Alexander Larman and Susannah Clapp join Tom to discuss I Swear, a film which tells the life story of John Davidson MBE who was diagnosed with Tourette's age 15.They also talk about Thomas Pynchon's new novel Shadow Ticket.Booker shortlisted novelist Tibor Fischer assesses the Hungarian writer László Krasznahorkai who has won the Nobel Prize in Literature.As the complete works of Seamus Heaney is published, Owen McDonnell reads the previously unpublished poem Swallow.Plus, Tom and guests discuss Susan Sarandon's UK debut on stage in Tracy Letts' play, Mary Page Marlowe.Presenter: Tom Sutcliffe Producer: Claire Bartleet

This week, Hannah and Barbi take a nostalgic and inspiring trip through history and heartwarming stories. They explore the charm of the Blue Swallow Motel, reflect on the legacy of Billy Graham, and sprinkle in a bit of Mayberry-style small-town goodness. It's a conversation full of history, faith, and the little moments that remind us of simpler times and lasting values. Tune in for stories that will make you smile, reflect, and appreciate the beauty in the details of life.

Burnie and Ashley discuss their succesful (?) dental exams, popular internet t-shirts, tall vibing, best selling RT shirts, The Yoke Controversy, future judgement, Farscape, Babylon 5, Stargate, and when good medical news leads to bad habits.