Podcasts about Thrust

On this week's episode of AvTalk, Ian is joined by aviation journalist Jeremy Dwyer-Lindgren to discuss a trio of recently released preliminary accident reports. UPS flight 2976 — MD-11F crash on take off in Louisville Emergency Airworthiness Directive regarding MD-11s Emergency Airworthiness Directive regarding DC-10s United Airlines flight 1093 — impact with object at 36,000 […] The post AvTalk Episode 347: Fatigue cracks, thrust levers, and sand ballast appeared first on Flightradar24 Blog.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. 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 LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. 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 LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Don't you see, sensei I'm just as disappointed in myself And ready to die Just as I relay the message, Spray me with your morbid essence Don't, croak, you fool, You've only a spoon ful of sugar left to go The dose is coming up your throat, — you didn't know to throw up Grab the rope and go up Before gravity has crushed your —thought: Stupid boy, you don't want to die— Nor to do, but oh, do we have it coming Silly mortal, overlords and governed, Short of morals, steady coming at your doorstep So goes our concert! And so goes our concept for divorce, And sure of course, Your four corse meal, and/or dessert This is just devastating, genetics made me The sort at sorting words, but surfing, Sure. Ever temporarily the cadence changes, Still they say “you've been betrayed” But never had a friend I made made As good as death and God have been to me For everything you're meant to be, Plus everything you're meant to me, I go, unwanted, troubled and disgusted at my own immortal outcome. Sure. My back hurts and I'm wounded, Heartbroke, Thrust in every cardinal direction Also, honored at the mark of magic wand Upon her shoulder; And so, Just as soon as the sun and moon, Does the fire escape set a perfect path For outward destruction of the bricks and mortar Or your alter (This we talk about, to some effect Is your repression and affective form of supernatural perfection) But forget the makeup; I can make you up to be a star And not of wars and other worlds, But those that come before us, Carson, and the others Paar before that. But, I think not dear sir How wrong you are, A wretched bird, Set not to fly, but O father Wit and relay messages, The passage said, and set to clocks, The past was won and so the future altered, But dear feathered father, Mortal you are not But just another triumph Of my god; And set the mirror to the magnets Camera, lights and action, Magic— All the signs of the dawn, and the mad don Red Dawn came upon us, called the Red Man Tom, from other, over, under Still was my mistake to mumble such Or put upon the tongue As such assumption Still— wonder? Bird, shut up; Love I dusk And lust I soak In all the frittered dust and feathers, Colors, coming up as mister Chuck and wood, and wait and ponder Slithered this to wonder, not a rock, But potted fern, Asunder Thunderstorm And wicked rain And fair the back A tide had come And sitting there upon the shore, Was us, and 12 apostles She's a Brick— Seemingly out of nowhere, A RED BRICK HOUSE falls very perfectly from the SKY and into OZ. oh good, my house is here. House. [the festival project ™] But I don't want to make house! Then play it! I don't want to play house it is BORING. You play it— they want it. But I don't want it. Then forget it! What! Listen kid, a job's a job! {Enter The Multiverse} Wrong, this is wrong— everything is wrong. What's wrong, Rob? I'll be back. ROB LOWE has just played TRUTH OR DARE L E G E N D S if I could get inside your head For just a second Bread and butter Heaven, hell, And other places I have wandered But oh, wonder This is never what I wanted, Was it? No sir. Sure, I set you off, No sooner had you got a gun and shot me. Handsome fucker. I'll bet. Wrong act. Wrong award show. Wrong hat and a baseball bat, Peanut butter and a nice cold cheesecake, Don't forget to order cheesesteak For your cat. A carnivore at odds with the other worlds, And also fused to us; This drifting back and forth Between the Rock And Hollywood Has got to stop. ((The world is toxic.)) the legend of… L. JONES It's you! BLŪ AH, crap. L. JONES Listen, I got something for you. BLŪ Where did your bird go? L.JONES What bird? CUT TO: Now open that. No wait! It's a trap! THE VAULT inside THE CRYPT at 30 ROCK has been opened. I keep looking down at my phone As if I'm expecting a phone call Or incoming message from God But the worlds to a song Are all jumbled up in my Concious I don't want to talk about it I feel Nauseous Everyone is being obnoxious Even my own blood I don't want to function I just want some French toast crunch For lunch Nostalgia I got a whole inch taller on the peloton Holla Now I got a body, Broader, So close to Broadway But I never go there That's a tall order Of “gotta have money” I mean live theatre It's fine I'll eat here And repeat these things till they just rhyme Line them all up like a context, Story Someday I'm gonna cut my own check Watch me lol none of this rhymes without a hard Brooklyn accent ; Guess you can't hack it! Send you ass packin! I said “That's whack son!” Then I went back blonde Now they want Backend, Contract, Off the top, Royalties Residuals I'm an individual with insidious syntax And yet I'm ridiculed Truly I'm a tit-for-tat Or particle of all you are Circular centrifuge, I trickle down your tentacles (Eugh) Choke the chicken just to give the cat a chicken bowl, Chick fil et and pret a tair just to get a ritual Espresso and a quick snack So I can get my dick wrapped In chocolate and licorice because the shit is edible Damn that I guess they set a damn trap By putting out the welcome mat, Then strapping Like a mothafuckin' straight jacket Matter fact, I look a nap in it, Then magic tricked the slip effective Compliments of Michael Jackson Or was it tech nine? Maybe I should get my Mind right I lost it once I guess I've better find it If I am, in fact, A diamond in the rough It's probably blooded it up enough That you should dig it up and shine it; Better yet, Somebody outta pick it up And sign it, Cause I write enough To put a vision To a blind man It's Fran Fine, man I'm behind, man The shadowgov had put me on a diet My bad I noticed that they tried to shut me up But couldn't stop the words or other stuff That just keeps coming out of my head I put coconuts as butter onto my bread And thinking thoughts of Carl cox As I drift off in my bed, I said, “It shouldn't be a problem, officer” As I reached for the gun And he aimed it at my death. That's an impossible apocalyptic suicide— Did you invite the devil in? I said “Nah, but that guy did.” The problem is, I pointed over yonder to a ghost Who also knows that I'm a well respected psychic; Nevermind a sidekick, side bitch in a sidecar, Psych ward, Sike! We spike war on your kind! So far, If I make history tonight, The other side decides their psalm is just as likely The third reike. Okay, strike one: I'm gonna turn your lights off. Strike two : you do and say what I do: Strike three: we're gonna make you suicidal I specialize in denying rights for high profits But big brother, or boss— What if my glove fits? The instance it does, We lock you up with no service, Your world becomes dark And your words become worthless Oh shit. This is not a good rap song. Like, at all. I must say, I do agree, You lose your trust, but silently Denied is all your trouble, Till it just begins to bubble up Until the cookie crumbles— See that feeling in your stomach? This is bigger than the money, girl — They want your soul, and then the world! I told you never call him. I didn't! Then explain this: [Skrillex] *sharp inward sigh* CUT IMMIDIATLEH TO STAN You know what! That's it! I don't care how handsome or rich and famous he is! This has to stop! KYLE Hey, wait just a minute— STAN SHUT UP KYLE. KYLE You shut up! STAN You're starting to sound just like him! KYLE Take that back! STAN I won't take it back! You all might have forgotten who you are, but I haven't!after of fact, I bet to Cartman, you're still that stupid little Jew kid! KYLE That's IT. KYLE takes out his phone. what are you doing? …I'm tweeting about this. I thought it was X now… It is, but you can't ‘x' anything, it's still calledl tweeting. I guess youre right. —and I'm tagging Cartman ! STAN Are you serious? Oh shit, this is social suicide. …did I ever explain this storyline? …I don't know, did i? I'd gotten so focused on this impending doom looming over me with this whole lawsuit that I'd forgotten entire worlds and whole documents. Even more terrifying, was the sudden quiet and the onset guilt that came over me for getting distracted. But I couldn't remove myself from it entirely—- it seemed to have ruined everything. It wasn't just motorcycle noises, it was like a nervousness and angst twisting in my stomach for months and months, until finally, as the court dates started approaching, it was peaceful, or rather, normal, all of a sudden. It couldn't be peaceful because now that the extreme noise was gone, I knew it had been planted all long— but what was the purpose? I'd lost two years not knowing, and though there were albums, they were never what I wanted. Now I was sorting through the documents of the show like it was the rubble of a decimated building— completely demolished, and I hadn't the slightest clue the contexts or the storylines anymore. It was pain and suffering, but not in the legal context. It was a creative disaster— I hadn't any idea in the slightest where I'd left my audience before I was forced to abandon them. But I was forced to choose, at times, between soap and toilet paper, or eventually, food, and water— or a phone. Eventually, this too became a pattern of the impossible— trying my hardest to do what I thought had been my purpose, but for far, being so endlessly sabotaged, even ridiculed and humiliated, and still, I couldn't understand why. I was tired— and somehow, even though I'd wanted to be left alone, I was the target. Worse was that I assumed it to be bigger than I thought and completely out of control— I thought immediately back to how my best friend from middle school had been attacked, and how she was made to think that it was me…to the point that she'd become obsessive about it to call my mom over it. And as far as the court was concerned, to the wrong ears or wrong eyes, anything I'd published in the festival project could look troublesome, like the ramblings of a mad mad, or schizo, or uncontrolled obsessive thoughts— because the biggest secrets of all, the things that tied together these fictional worlds and plots, were my own real life experience. The inability in a court of law to detail the podcast, which had started as meltdown some would call grandiose over an almost long forgotten rockstar and a porn model — and the entries into the festival project that followed, which included high concepts, off-kilter comedy, politics, and even fringed on social justice. Nothing I ever would have wanted and especially over money, but the lawsuit wasn't about money at all. In fact, at any moment I would have chosen to die and have it all stop if it weren't for my very young son being left alone. Though recently the dread had overcome with a sense of unbearable loss and agony, encrypted with suicidal thoughts and wants, reeling for human touch, the overbearing factor seemed to be that if I killed myself, I was giving someone what they wanted. I was really much too tired to go on, but leaving behind the world in entirety, in my very own way of beliefs wasn't just “shitutting it off”, it was starting it over. Understandably and undeniably immortal in its nature, the instances of God I had left spoke with a reminiscence of being born again, and having to remember which is it I'd wanted to start off. It was an unachievable overload of chaos and disruption, a level of corruption that spoke to something so dark and sinister it seemed biblical — then, again, I tried to wrap my mind around a way to rebuild a positive world from hope and thought, or manifest reality, but this is the very experience I'd felt was intended all along. The motorcycles weren't merely meant to destroy my career, or my will power, or force— they were, but also they were made to play upon my most valuable asset, the power of thought, to make it impossible to become something other than what was wanted; to use my own mind against itself and destroy my way of thought by using vibrations that could not be shut out, or stopped— they followed me to the sound collective, to Shakespeare in the park, the bank, the doctors office— it was as if they knew and understood my very thoughts, my process. It was of nothing at all to corrupt every single body and brain who would surround me or come close— by using the power that seemed supernatural enough, but indeed were powered by money, and technology. Perhaps, in this essence, I thought, was the purest display of defective intention itself; the mere thought that this indeed was rather Good Vs. Evil or God and The Devil would easily be written off as a diseased way of thought. The social world and constructs had been built around being open minded to a system of psychology that was intrinsically rather corrupt. I knew this could only be fought with what I knew, and what I could draw from as logic. I didn't want to go to court because I knew the people I would be fighting were liars, and well trained psychological masters of manipulation, well hidden terrorists dressed as public servants and systematic corrupters all for simple profit margins, to whom I was not so much a person or a mother, or a daughter, but a number. Because I was poor, and had once or four times chosen to love the wrong person in an unorthodox and uncontrollable form of torture, dismissing each and every social construct or physiology that was by the book, by embracing that there was a reason for change I quickly became quite the antagonist of sorts and hopefully not some sort of martyr —for the kind of people that had money and property, and perhaps even socially constructed circles to camoflage their own self doubt and hatred, but absolutely also had no morals. –Death of a Superstar DJ If I lose my mind At least I know I'm right on time This time— I meant that, I had it bad this time MCBADBAT I had it bad this time, And the last. Perchance for you, Hour or folded, Hair my weight And glassed upon thy, This upon now, Feathered waking, And there barely weathered Shaking. Dear, dear, Tis is fair truth, To fare that I have gasp And fated at thy doorstep; And yet, care to force, Her breaking waves and saving tinder, Fit there slithered in as yet astonished, Then another; And I hated. So, then, slower now. All there, gathered none. And show to show thy force What then became and withered after, None to bark or beg But birds and feathered creatures, pander The tides did Quake, And the heart did grow ten fold and steady saying None upon us but one left to shiver in the depths That yet remain as undiscovered For now never there was another world, Undone, And also another becomes, My death— And therefore all the worlds I kept, To travel on and travel As becomes one, does another onward As the first is glass to dust, And last is born there. So, Then, I, Crept, In my dress, Kept for clothes that church did water I, met, My mark and there the doors of shadows open Wilted and wake? Hear you; A star was born In other cosmos tied with our own nurture So, Kept, The weight of clasp and bone That holds the crept and precious alter Goddamn cat! Where are you. AAtticus Caaticus Oop. Gotta go. Toonces! Tooooonces! Where are you? Omg remember that one where that couple has a magic toddler and they just let him like,float away. Yeah, barely. Yeah. So I do. CUT TO: TOONCES focuses intently on the task at hand; he's sure he can manage to drive the human vehicle to his own home— to where he's assured he will find the actual body in which he belongs. Now… let's see, if I can just Wait, I who? ATTICUS CATTICUS, An ancient alien sorcerer must relay a series of important messages. Unfortunately. YO WHAT THE FUCK. None of them seem to be getting through. CUT BACK TO: TOONCEEESSSS. here kitty kitty kitty!! {Enter the Multiverse} I would dedicate, but honestly I've not time to waste And I'm craving wedding cake I hate to destroy you But for now, you know I can't employ you; This implies my eyes are also murder And I'm sure of her departure From another world, Perhaps across the border. Also, quite the dark sorcerer himself LORNE MICHAELS has well hidden himself under the guise of having become one of the most successful television producer of all times— And even in his own very small world, Nobody quite seems to know why. JIMMY FALLON Lorne, I have to tell you something. LORNE MICHAELS This had better be good, Jimmy, I've just made popcorn. [the festival project ™] Don't worry, for now, The risk remains hidden, As sure as an asset is an advantage, I can't have the classes counting Heads of cabbage as accomplishes, The masses are honestly astonished And impossible, but what was wrong with Boredom in the first place? Nonsense More words And still no dollars Hunger strike, And burning harder, California deficit, lack of bread, Heaven sent interventions and scissors, Mistresses, disasters and divorces But who says the whole story has to suffer? You're a surfer under water, Remember that when you finally catch your breath above the surface Can you clear her? He who? Back to work! Or back to the future! My super brain is dead but I think I'm next I think heaven swallows whole the blooded laugher From the constructs I've come from. Remember that. Remember not to fall from too far up, God would give you wings With time to spare Before you ever wondered where Your mark was On the plaza Don't let me up to the very top. I will at the very least Best scenario jump off And rid the world myself, Just for a dozen donuts over Crossing hearts and Hollywood And Griffith park To also soft my foot Upon red carpets. You ever shave your armpits!? …no. Hm. Catholic. Of course. Get in. Destination. —Rotterdam. You idiot. I made it. Whatever, get in the boat. DI NERO Give her your shirt. What. Your shirt. Why my shirt. Just— Fine. Here. [he hands over his shirt— in an instant, the woman becomes an exact REPLICA.] …my shirt. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to it. Okay? —in fact, you're still wearing it. Alright! She's right, Jimmy, relax. I can't, that's— It's simple. There is nothing simple about this whatsoever. You're right. It's not, so get over it. [The Festival Project ™] BILL MURRAY There's a compartment at the end of the left corridor— Alright. In that hatch, there's a chamber. Okay, what'll I do? You'll open it? How? I'll tell you how, just get there. Suddenly, a barrier falls; it appears as though there are booby traps set here. Uh— that might be a problem. There might be a few of them. What just happened? Booby traps. —ah, I know what you're talking. Those aren't booby traps— they're Bobby Traps. What in the Hell are you talking about? For whatever reason Jimmy Kimmel Is important Now I'm scared of him, I know he knows the devil Come to think of it, Might even be an advocate Have an avocado But don't know the half of it These are, as it stands Comes what may Special circumstances I could circumvent an intervention, Never second chances I've been setting rat traps, Trapeze artists, Bampheramph camp, And also trampolines over the plaza That seems dangerous. Yeah. AHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Damn. Know it's plausible, That I also am an alcoholic, Though dysfunctional, Professional, And underrepresented So I stand myself, Let's just say pro-se if you will I could add Prozac to my snacks But I'll be delayed, if you still Don't get my messages I'm sick of having heart attacks; A hard advantage I was looking back on “fully packaged” A six pack of abs And nothing left to eat but cabbage, Haven't had a mouth, But I've been counting on my ass To get me back up north, I'm coming from the South Out West, there's a word for that At best, you're a four and a half My body double stunts and stumbles Struts at nothing Struck before the one, And so between high noon and Somewhere around 30 in I'm never turning 30, 30 Rock is in the wind— So count that up, That's what my income is. That's what they said? “Too late, you've been betrayed” If that's how it is, Then I request “beheaded” You know your mother says That ugly face just becomes permanent If you keep making it, And so I did, The second that it ended I'm Trying so hard Just to be What they want That it hurts Just to stop And relax For a moment INT. THE LAIR. NIGHT What is this? Where am I? You're— Alive. Why? …I changed my mind. You're not ugly You're just not mine I changed my mind I changed my life around. I skip line after line, But the message ain't right, I have time a chance No challenge accepted No exceptions or Expectations Expand this racism vocabulary Set the rat traps back To February Stamp the weather's getting Better with the postage clearing Abstr– My cat is so cute I can't stand him; But he's pretty bad, That my only friend; Animal. I blacklisted deadmau5, And my whole set sucked. Presently, however I'm a peasant Plucking pheasant feathers Guess I– pppftt. Like it never even happened But I'm sure we're all to war, Like a fear I never grasp it, What's l before, uncertain of your l words— My dear, were tattered and the masters heavy handed, Oh, my dear, we're marching on a battered Wit, to all your fan mail I tel you, I was I tortured, Let me show you And also, No one forced my hand at magic, Questioned prestidigitation, Or went back to every second, Land you think you owned as time In fact, my crucial very hard earned gossip column Asks the reader to reform his or her thought Before a judgement can be made How fascinating. The bag says ‘poems' so I wrote one, But I'm sure since my marker's toggled on I'm being stalked, It's like a magnet, Punch the clock And here they pour into the coffin So I won't be pouring coffee for the puffin; Maybe someday I'll look back at this as all I ever wanted, But for now it's just a horror show, Where I belong the murder— Yet a thriller, Best, The audience is captivated, Yes This is evasive, Cause I can't been captured yet By either masses or Mass murderers. At last, a cadence comes clean of its Breaking waves and rhythms, Tides and ties, Becomes another— Then, I'm whisked away Not back to slumber, but of subtle thoughts Of Californian water Lapping up across our surfboards; I often wear them tides, The undertow As pull of greater waves I sit aside as all that passes [The Festival Project ™] When I see Calvin Klein, I think of you; Not what you used to be But turned in to So it's mutual— Pay attention, fool As does moss grow on a rock And this to you— It is unfortunate, my dear You miss with every twist, Adjustment of attention span, The glances I foreshadowed (Here you are, inside your past) It's just affective of the effect, You've been levitating, Yes, I find it devastating Every second kept is just a fortune But you pause before you post— You reap before you even think Of what you sow, You don't belong, Agast, (True) Set the tone, Classless, But I'm Art, you are a Daunting folk song, Mistletoe and marker. CAMERA ASSISTANT Marker. …what is this for again? CAMERA ASSISTANT (Annoyed, mumbling) Shut up. Ten minutes passes and still, I'm awake But the tragedy of the mistake has just set in, I'm sure I've been tortured, I'm paid in mistakes, but I'd rather be shattered with Mortimer's curse. To the tune of Ten by ten by ten I will never be lover, nor friend in the end. {Enter The Multiverse] DRAKE concentrates heavily on a very long , seemingly very angry message— a frowning face plastered as he writes that is so noteworthy, it catches the attention of many a passerby— still this focus unwatered, as he bashes heavily away at the text message with the thumbs of fury for over 30 minutes while sitting at a booth in a well-loved pancake restaurant. As a tall stack of pancakes is served before him, and he, still unbreaking this angry texting streak or eye contact with his phone sits before them, history is made in what internet culture has now deemed as “the most meme worthy face in history” The world wonders what he could possibly be writing— and more importantly—-who he could be texting. Tears come to his eyes but do not fall as he raises his thumb with reserve, to finally press [RETURN.] CUT TO: SUNNI BLU receives a text amidst a wild party. Almost without so much as a reaction, SUNNI BLU pings the message to a projector and cuts off the lights, and music. A VERY LONG, ANGRY TEXT is projected on the wall. I slept from 10-2 There was nothing else to do My name is Devin DeLouise And I am not supposed to know these things Seven are dead and three are left I know what's next I'm also often known as And referred to as coyote ugly; Suffering a tantra wall, Yo, you son of a bitch! You dirty, dirty son of a bitch. I must admit, I had a lot to do with this… I had no part in it! Relax… soon enough, the both of your realize— this is how the unimaginable gets written. [he loads the polished sterling silver pistol and glamours over it] You have our memory. —all memory. And as soon as it ends, before it can begin again. The slate is wiped clean. Good riddance. “A Different Kind of Monologue” Is this what you wanted? Ooh— you should try me! I wish you would try me! Try me! I wish you would. Be calm, Grand Master. This will all be over momentarily. What's going on. Deprivation chamber. Crypt? —Encrypted? A lockup. Ah. Thought so. That ought to show us what he's really made up. We can all hope. [he pounds on the glass, the one way mirror acts as a camera which the maj aresses, rabid and wi the anger of a dangerous animal, both we, n audience, and the small group of men gathered a the other side of the room. This could be the basis of a lot of lawsuits. So now I have your tears and agony A wilted throne and wand Which which would grant a wish of comedy, And therefore ever after, Not pain and guilt, but laughter So heavy is the hat that acts as crown, And so foolish is the King to think ‘imself as not one, Creaks the crow and also of the feathered guilt that follows, I Kept and bashful, wishing not the show as throne but sorrow, Kept to wick and wake and bones to shatter from tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Do you fear us? …do you wish to be feared? What of us? I seek to cause the wish that stands as though you may as granted. So shallow, fair child. And brother and my son also. Gross! Stop. You are weird! Dude, you are fucked. In the withdraw, my shadows and darkness Are there always, never resting Stories and gathered images, Visions of betrayal and archaic wants. In time, I've abandoned them all and betraying that which I've lost, For I know, and not ponder on That I shall never know love, As all standing tal over me Have eyes; And all I want Knows not what hides under my ugly. Alright. I followed your spiral, downward, and down wind and down wood, Into a place where I also aspired to show your mark Upon my rotted corpse or coarse crossifix; Sure worded and down trodden. Now, worse, I'm also sworn To mourn all my own losses, Kind folk. Kind hearted and now my eyes also sudden to wander— And there goes my miles and triumphs And morals and war songs, And sure, swallowed the barrel of a gun But also departed with honor, I tell I. Glimpses of wither and winter and whittling pain, And I slither my back to the center of All I am, in this, and shadows, Fairtails, And grains of rice and sand to twist away Into the rain as I lay dying. What a fortunate! Don't make my mark up and out, few for short times, Aye, conspire to warthog, Remember so force your spirit onto ours, And shake, sandbox! There aiming at you were the snakes of six liars, And the stakes of empires lost and won over, Also one solemn subtle Star of David Worn upon the neck of six monks, Ragtime Six popes, pass I; Six fathers and streaks solemn and Care tan teared salamander, Having weight and wake to cheer For our slaughter. Then, you, Having gained and also lost should reap to sow, What you'd have wanted; Though the tongue so convexed having way to guild your complex, Shaking as I hunger fruit that not but hangs Before l wanted I know, I could knot be consoled I know, I could not be consoled I know I could not be consolidated either Bought, or purchased I know I'm not consoled at all, I know I'm not confirmed at all I know, I know I'm not confronted, nor immortal — but your glorified affliction. Poor infinity. Of poverty, perhaps, but never poor at all. For your were warned of all the doors as opened at your calling. Not to walk though, But to ponder at them, wondering. he's gone Maybe I should go Too Heavy weight hanging on my Shoulders I'm just star struck I don't know You I don't really like saying What I go through Talk an hour, Fake it All day show Monologue Improvisation Now i'm on a roll, But my thoughts got darker I like adderall and a real smooth talker I like a husband-father , Doctor, Actor, Tall and handsome, Doesn't matter I'm alone, so i feel hopeless Aggie's gone, So i might as well go though Oh– She's gone ((I think i'm past my time)) I think i should go to She's gone (so long) Right on, man I might as well go to It's been a long time, Gotta turn my light off, Overtime, That's a long ball game Season's over; On my back in the middle of the ball court She's gone, So i might as well go too. 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 LEGAL NOTICE / ARTIST STATEMENT Project: The Festival Project ™ (Season 12) Genre: Speculative Auto-Ethnography / Social Surrealism Disclaimer: This document is a work of creative non-fiction and political satire. While inspired by the author's lived experiences with systemic oppression, housing displacement, and surveillance, the narrative employs stylized fragmentation, stream-of-consciousness, and metaphor to dramatize the psychological impact of these events. The "characters" and "dialogue" herein are artistic devices used to critique historical and modern power structures. This text should be viewed as a performative artistic expression protected under the First Amendment, and not as a literal transcript of clinical psychosis or a formal sworn affidavit. This is a character study of 'Chroma111,' the collective artworks of a musician living in a dystopian surveillance state. The erratic language is a stylistic choice to represent the character's psychological deterioration under systemic oppression. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Genre: "Afro-Surrealism" / "Social Horror" "Psycho-Acoustic Weaponry" or "Havana Syndrome symptoms." The Frame: The protagonist is subjected to "noise harassment"—a tactic dramatized here but rooted in the known reality of tenant displacement and "psychological attrition." The narrative depicts a process of "Soul Murder" ( also known as spiritual warfare) orchestrated by a hostile apparatus. The antagonist is "The Institution," representing deep-state mechanisms that view multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story allegorically dramatizes the invisible mechanisms that enforce racial hierarchy, depicting how broken social systems weaponize psychological practices against the individual. Artist's Note: This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as an artistic testament to the psychological siege endured from to 2023-2025. It is a creative record of survival against a hostile state architecture. The following is a creative non-fiction horror manifesto regarding the psychological assassination of a multicultural American artist. It documents—through the lens of Afro-Surrealism—how modern surveillance technology and sonic harassment are experienced by the targeted individual. As it stands It has become a modern sequel which mirrors the civil rights struggles of the 1960s, set in the present day. "The protagonist is being subjected to 'noise harassment'—a known tactic used by landlords and corrupt entities to displace tenants. The sound is weaponized to induce sleep deprivation and psychological attrition, dismantling of their ego and will to live, orchestrated by a hostile state apparatus. The antagonist in this piece is 'The Institution'—a deep state that views multicultural intellectualism as a threat. The story dramatizes over time the invisible mechanisms (the 'Deep State') that enforce racial hierarchy and and psychological genocide, weaponizing broken social systems and unfounded psychological practices as biological weapons. This is a living document. In the event of the artist's silence or unnatural death, this text serves as evidence of the psychological siege endured from 2023-2025. It is a transcript of survival against a hostile state architecture. This project spans an unlimited multiprojectoral arc of over two years of chronic violence, reaching into historical and theatrical projections and parallels over the all documented records of human existence through time and space.

Preached in 2022. For more resources for knowing and loving God's word, visit ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠bcnewton.co⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Resources⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Exodus: Saved for God's Glory // Philip Graham Ryken⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Exodus // Douglas Stuart⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Gleanings in Exodus // A. W. Pink⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠The Pentateuch as Narrative // John H. Sailhamer⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Exodus // John Calvin⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠If you have benefitted from this episode, consider sharing with others. You can also support my work financially⁠ at this link⁠.

Thrust into the deadly politics of Transylvania, the new coterie must learn more if they are to fulfill their sire's designs. But each of them holds their own secret desires and motivations, and trust doesn't come easily between Cainites.Content Warnings: Vampiric feeding; lack of consent; discussions of slavery; implied abuse; inhumanity; loss of control; historical assumptions and stereotyping; language;CastStoryteller: Lex LopezAlexios: Tim DavisCatrinel: Rebecca SteigelfestRoland de Roncevaux: Rob MuirheadSadhbh: Erika WebbZorion de Iruña: Garrett GabbeyRecordingRebecca SteigelfestEditingRob MuirheadMusicDon't Look Back - Instrumental Version, by DaniHaDani and Maya BelsitzmanMiddle Eastern Dance (no lead vocals), by Maya Belsitzman and Matan EphratJerusalén - Idan BalasThe Endless Nave - NadazJericho at Dusk - Alon Peretz ArtLogo: Rob MuirheadCharacter Art: Jay Steel, BlueSkyKo-Fi: ko-fi.com/pathofnightYouTube: YouTube.com/@pathofnightFacebook: Facebook.com/PathofNightPodcastTwitter: @PathofNightPodBluesky: pathofnight.bsky.socialEmail: pathofnightpodcast@gmail.com

Falcon 9 Full Thrust: Densification and Barge Landings. Eric Berger describes how, following a 2015 failure, SpaceX developed the Falcon 9 Full Thrust, version 3.0/4.0. Driven by the Mars vision, they adopted densification—chilling liquid oxygen to boost density and increase payload efficiency by 10 to 12 percent. Crucially, they focused on landing the booster vertically on a moving barge, skipping steps in the reusability process. This challenge required redesigned Merlin engines and advanced avionics, leading to several learning failures as they tried to figure out how best to line up the rocket with the ship. Guest: Eric Berger.

Achieving Reusability and Navigating Launch Failures. Eric Berger reports that in December 2015, SpaceX demonstrated reusability with the successful launch and vertical landing of the Falcon 9 Full Thrust at Landing Zone 1. The launch utilized densified propellant, requiring a tight launch window. The risky landing involved the Air Force approving a rocket with fuel returning over expensive real estate, despite concerns from groups like the National Reconnaissance Office. However, three weeks before his Mars speech, the Amos 6 satellite was violently destroyed during fueling in September 2016. Elon Musk favored an unfounded "sniper theory" to explain this failure. Guest: Eric Berger.

In this powerful episode, Chanette returns to share her raw and eye-opening experience as a long-term substitute teacher in an Autism-focused classroom within a challenging school district. Thrust into a whirlwind of chaos, she innovated creative solutions to empower her students to thrive—only to face repeated denials from the district, unwilling to fund the essential supports each child desperately needed. As a dedicated Special Education advocate, Chanette's heartbreaking story exposes the ongoing crisis in education: districts failing to provide proper resources, staff training, and qualified personnel for high-needs environments, leading to teacher burnout and denying individuals with disabilities their right to flourish. Join us as we amplify the urgent call to action—standing up for the rights of students with disabilities and their families to ensure every child gets the successful, supported education they deserve!

In this episode, Conor and Bryce record live from C++ Under the Sea! We interview Ray and Paul from NVIDIA, talk about Parrot, scans and more!Link to Episode 260 on WebsiteDiscuss this episode, leave a comment, or ask a question (on GitHub)SocialsADSP: The Podcast: TwitterConor Hoekstra: Twitter | BlueSky | MastodonBryce Adelstein Lelbach: TwitterAbout the Guests:Ray is a Senior Systems Software Engineer at NVIDIA since 2022. Studied Software Engineering at the University of Amsterdam. Founded the Dutch C++ Meetup in 2013 and co-organizes C++ Under the Sea since 2023. He has been programming for more than 25 years, his journey began on his father's Panasonic CF-2700 MSX--and has been hooked ever since. He is also 'the listener' of ADSP the podcast.Paul Grosse-Bley was first introduced to parallel programming with C+MPI at a student exchange to Umeå (Sweden) in 2017 while studying Physics. In the following years he learned more about MPI, OpenMP, OpenACC, Thrust/parSTL and CUDA C++. After finishing his Master's degree in Physics at Heidelberg University (Germany) in 2021, he became a PhD candidate in Computational Science and Engineering researching the acceleration of iterative solvers in sparse linear algebra while being head-tutor for a course on GPU Algorithm Design. He learned using Thrust in 2019 shortly before learning C++ and became enamored with parallel algorithms which led to numerous answers on StackOverflow, contributions on GitHub, his NVIDIA internship in the summer of 2025 and full position starting in February of 2026.Show NotesDate Recorded: 2025-10-10Date Released: 2025-11-14NVIDIA BCM (Base Command Manager)C++11 std::ignoreC++20 std::bind_frontParrotParrot on GitHubParrot Youtube Video: 1 Problem, 7 Libraries (on the GPU)thrust::inclusive_scanSingle-pass Parallel Prefix Scan with Decoupled Look-back by Duane Merrill & Michael GarlandPrefix Sums and Their Applications by Guy BlellochParallel Prefix Sum (Scan) with CUDANVIDIA ON-Demand VideosA Faster Radix Sort ImplementationIntro Song InfoMiss You by Sarah Jansen https://soundcloud.com/sarahjansenmusicCreative Commons — Attribution 3.0 Unported — CC BY 3.0Free Download / Stream: http://bit.ly/l-miss-youMusic promoted by Audio Library

Thrust into power in his mid-20s, the last emperor of the Aztecs tried to resist the Spanish and hold onto his crumbling empire.

Join Las Vegas Raiders on Si Beat Writer Hondo Carpenter and family discussing the Silver and Black on the most recent Ridin' w/ the Carpenters on PFI, Pro Football Insiders. #Raiders #RaidersNation #NFL Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

EDr. AJ Kolhari discusses Russia's successful test of the nuclear-powered Burevestnik cruise missile, which flew 14,000 km for 15 hours. The missile captures and compresses air, heating it over a nuclear reactor to create thrust. Kulhari emphasizes the danger because it flies low (50 to 100 m) and is hard to detect. He notes this nuclear propulsion technology, or similar ramjet designs, could revolutionize commercial travel and be applied to flight on Mars, using its CO₂ atmosphere for heating. 1958

PREVIEW. Nuclear Propulsion, Russian Cruise Missiles, and the Future of Flight on Mars. AJ Kulhari of Astrix Corporation discusses a nuclear-powered rocket concept that generates thrust by heating intake air or other material. Russia successfully tested such a cruise missile that can fly low around the world. This same method could work on Mars, using its abundant carbon dioxide atmosphere as the substance to heat. This could allow a vehicle to travel completely around Mars using only 20 grams of fuel. 1920

Dr. Justin Dunaway // www.ptonice.com In today's episode of the PT on ICE Podcast, ICE CEO Jeff Moore & Total Spine division leader Justin Dunaway sit down to discuss the efficacy of thrust manipulation, particular for acute pain, hypermobility, & radiculopathy. Jeff & Justin discuss emerging research in thrust manipulation, acknowledgement of short-term benefits, and the application of manipulation into daily practice. Take a listen to the episode or check out the full show notes on our blog at www.ptonice.com/blog If you're looking to learn more about our Persistent Pain Management course or our online physical therapy courses, check our entire list of continuing education courses for physical therapy including our physical therapy certifications by checking out our website. Don't forget about all of our FREE eBooks, prebuilt workshops, free CEUs, and other physical therapy continuing education on our Resources tab.

Mayor Phil Jones returned to his hometown of Newport News as the city's youngest mayor—and just days into the role, he faced a heartbreaking tragedy that drew national attention. Thrust into the spotlight, he relied on his values, humility, and lived experience to guide his leadership. In this episode, we talk about his path to becoming Mayor and how it's going so far.  We explore what shaped his approach to service, and his bold vision for the future of Newport News. His story is a powerful mix of resilience, purpose, and hometown pride. Please visit www.MyHomeIsSpecial.com for the full project and follow @KBevPhoto on Instagram to see what I'm up to.

Thrust onto the public stage at 15 years old after the Taliban's brutal attack on her life, Malala Yousafzai became an international icon for resilience and bravery. Described as a reflection on a life of a woman finally taking charge of her destiny, her memoir Finding My Way has just been published. She joins Anita Rani in the Woman's Hour studio.There's a call to compensate women caught up in the scandal of faulty breast implants manufactured by a French company. The PIP scandal happened in 2012 when it emerged that the implants were filled with industrial silicone instead of medical grade silicone. The implants are far more likely to rupture than others. MPs on the Women's and Equalities Committee have been hearing calls for compensation during their inquiry into the health impacts of breast implants and other cosmetic procedures. Jan Spivey from PIP Action Campaign and Professor Carl Heneghan from The Centre for Evidence Based Medicine join us to discuss this.What if all your dreams come true and you still find yourself a bit grumpy? That's the brilliantly blunt question at the heart of Laura Smyth's stand-up tour, Born Aggy. Laura's journey into comedy wasn't exactly textbook. She left behind a career in teaching, was diagnosed with Stage 3 breast cancer that same year and - just two weeks after finishing treatment - was on stage in Live at the Apollo. She joins Nuala McGovern in the studio.Choreographer and artist Amina Khayyam tells Anita about her new dance-theatre work, Bibi Rukiya's Reckless Daughter, which opens soon in London after a national tour. It explores how patriarchy is enforced not only by men, but across generations of women, within family structures.Singer, actor and performer, Petula Clark's career has spanned over eight decades. She sang to wartime troops in the 40s, was a 1950s child star, became a European musical icon before conquering America with her No 1 hit Downtown. She starred in Hollywood movies alongside Fred Astaire and performed on stage in musicals including The Sound of Music, Sunset Boulevard and most recently Mary Poppins. Her autobiography - Is That You, Petula? is out now and she joins Nuala to look back at her long career.Presenter: Anita Rani Producer: Simon Richardson

NB: The music in this broadcast has been removed from this podcast for rights reasons.Thrust onto the public stage at 15 years old after the Taliban's brutal attack on her life, Malala Yousafzai became an international icon for resilience and bravery. Described as a reflection on a life of a woman finally taking charge of her destiny, her memoir Finding My Way has just been published. She joins Anita Rani in the Woman's Hour studio.Anita talks to sport correspondent FFion Wynne about the Indian women's cricket team win against Australia in the Women's Cricket World Cup, and up and coming player Jemimah Rodriques. She set a women's one day international record - a remarkable achievement.Briana Corrigan shot to fame in the 1990s with the BRIT award-winning band, The Beautiful South. After leaving the band, she's had several successful albums of her own and now, after 10 years away from the music industry, she's back with an upcoming album and tour. She performs her single Sweet Songbird live in the studio. A new study in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology in which researchers looking at how the use of explanation marks relates to gender. Their findings suggest that the use of explanation marks is associated more with women than men. But is this true and if so in what ways are women affected more than men and what are the implications? Anita is joined by the linguist, Professor Deborah Cameron and the author and journalist Melanie McDonough to discuss. Presenter: Anita Rani Producer: Corinna Jones

Join us for an inspiring conversation with Wyatt Lonergan, a visionary investor at VanEck Ventures, as he shares his incredible journey of becoming a key player in Web3 and blockchain innovation. Wyatt's story is one of curiosity, resilience, and a passion for building the future of finance. Whether you're an aspiring entrepreneur, a crypto enthusiast, or simply curious about Web3, this episode is packed with insights on stablecoins, DeFi, tokenized assets, and venture capital.What You'll Learn:

GE Aerospace is on the cutting edge of commercial jet engines, but what are they up to in defense these days? Vice President of Defense & Systems Engineering Darin DiTommaso lifts the covers on how they work and some of the innovative engines for vehicles -- from CCA to hypersonic -- that are on the way. And this week's airpower headlines. Powered by GE!

In this week's episode, Kayla and Taylor discuss Lidia Yuknavitch's 2022 novel Thrust. Topics include chicken stock, Neptune's gin, water apocalypse, the Statue of Liberty (and Clueless quotes about it), the sexy bits of the novel, toxic masculinity (oh hey, we know her), and feeling your feelings. Plus, we talk about The Life of a Showgirl (of course). This week's drink: Sea Foam via Rhubarb & LavenderINGREDIENTS:Sea salt foam:2 oz liquid egg whites, equivalent to two egg whites½ oz lemon juice¼ tsp sea saltCocktail:2 oz gin, such as Hendrick's Neptunia1 oz simple syrup½ oz lemon juicedried seaweed, for garnishINSTRUCTIONS:In a mixing bowl combine the egg whites, lemon juice, and sea salt. Beat on high until there are soft peaks. The extra liquid from the lemon juice will prevent the foam from becoming too stiff and some liquid will separate from the foam. Set aside while making the cocktail. Makes enough for 2 to 3 cocktails.In a cocktail shaker add the gin, simple syrup, and lemon juice. Add ice, then cover and shake for 10 to 15 seconds. Strain into a coupe glass. Spoon a layer of foam on top. Garnish with dried seaweed if desired. Enjoy!Current/recommended reads, links, etc.:Good Things: Recipes and Rituals to Share with People You Love by Samin NosratLugma: Abundant Dishes and Stories from My Middle East by Noor MuradHamnet by Maggie O'FarrellWhen the Going Was Good: An Editor's Adventures During the Last Golden Age of Magazines by Graydon CarterEat Up! Food, Appetite and Eating What You Want by Ruby TandohFollow us on Instagram @literatureandlibationspod.Visit our website: literatureandlibationspod.com to submit feedback, questions, or your own takes on what we are reading. You can also see what we are reading for future episodes! You can email us at literatureandlibationspod@gmail.com.Please leave us a review and/or rating! It really helps others find our podcast…and it makes us happy!Purchase books via bookshop.org or check them out from your local public library. Join us next time as we read The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones

In this episode of AeroExploration, we sit down with Patrick Arnzen, airline pilot, FAA Designated Pilot Examiner, and CEO of Thrust Flight. Patrick has spent his career guiding aspiring aviators through the challenges of pilot training, and he's now leading one of the nation's premier accelerated flight schools.Together, we dig into:✈️ Accelerated flight training — the real advantages, the common misconceptions, and what future pilots need to know before enrolling.

Luke's HAARP Time Warp: Part 4 Marion grows as a leader but only after some serious pain. Based on a post by somethin fishy, in 15 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Luke was glad to get out of there. Richard smelled terrible. Not only was he super obese and he smelled from that, but he had bad body odor and smelled of stale sex. He went to make his way back to his chambers, but he stopped before he got there. He had to do some recon. He explored the castle from top to bottom and stopped to have friendly chats with the guards that he came across. Luke was quickly gaining a reputation for being polite and considerate. Any maids that he crossed paths with didn't fear being attacked by him. Instead, they all stopped to have a quick chat. Through all this Luke learned that Richard was very unpopular with the men and women of the castle and only stayed in charge because he had the support of about a dozen key men. Luke also learned that the last of the men that had been openly loyal to Charles or Marion had been killed, but the general opinion was that it was for the best for they had long ago resigned from the human race and had become animals just to survive. Finally, after some hours, Luke returned to his quarters. There he found the others very tense and it didn't take long for Luke to find out why. Richard was planning on leaving within a week and was demanding that Luke's women accompany him back to his regular home. “Well, that decides it. We have to act tonight.” “Tonight? Luke are you sure?” squeaked Marion. “Yes sweetheart, I'm sure. Because if we don't act, they will find out who you really are.” Marion nodded her final agreement. The group went through all their gear and Luke shared all the intel that he had gathered. This was the first time that any of them other than Marion had seen Luke's handgun and they were all amazed. “I promise that after all this is over and if I am still alive then I shall explain everything to all of you. Marion knows most of the things about me but not all.” Chapter 16. It was almost midnight when Marion's group started their attack. Luke had instructed them that if they heard him firing then they should leave as soon as possible and not to look back; Luke wouldn't accept any arguments. Their first target was Richard's key supporters. Slip up, kill the guards quickly, then kill the key supporters. Gabriel would start off each attack with her bow. She would hide in a dark corner and shoot the guards throats out. This way they couldn't scream. Luke would then usually pick the lock and they would slip in. When they found their target, they would slit his throat and usually would have to cover the mouths of the women with them so that no one screamed. Usually, Stella would calm down the whore that was in the bed. Stella was well known in the castle and had the respect of all the woman. After everything was taken care with one target, they would move on to the next. They worked like this through all the key supporters. Eventually, they only had one target left, Richard. Problem was that he was under heavy guard by loyal men, not the run of the mill castle guards like the rest of them had been. It took almost three hours to get through all the key personal. This had the benefit that by the time they struck at Richard, most of his guards would be drowsy. Luke stopped the attack for a couple of minutes to regroup and plan out their final assault. After looking things over Luke decided that it just might be time to get the trump card out and ready. He put his sword away and pulled out his sig. Quietly he checked to make sure that there was a round in the chamber. Just as the group was starting their assault, there was a blood curdling scream from where they had just been. Their latest target had just been found. Luke moved in as soon as Gabriel had shot the door guards. Luke shot the lock out of the door after finding the door was locked. He burst into the room and this being Charles's old rooms Marion had drawn very exacting sketches so Luke knew exactly where to go. Marion and he moved fast through the rooms, clearing them as they went, while the others guarded the door. Luke and Marion killed anyone that opposed them. By the time they got to Richard, they had killed fifteen men and two women. “Who the hell are you? What do you mean by barging in here?” “Why Richard” said Marion taking off her helmet “I am insulted that you do not recognize the rightful owner of these lands.” When Richard realized just who was standing in front of him, he smiled. “Ah I see that you have returned; Marion of York. Problem is that the rightful owner already has signed over the lands.” “What do you mean?” “Cecilia, you want to come out and meet our guest for this evening?” Marion and Luke started when they caught sight of Cecilia coming out of an adjacent room “Good morning, Marion. Ever the night owl I see. Nice to see you again Luke. It will be so nice to finally have your giant cock buried inside me; but do not worry about Marion for she will have to watch while tied she's to her old bed.” “You traitor. You betray father and every person living in these lands for what? Empty promises from this tub of lard.” This pissed Cecilia off and she started to move toward Marion but Luke pointed his gun at her. “Ah so that is the “gun” that Cecilia has told me so much about. And before you ask and waste more time, I know that it was you, Luke, who killed my son and his men. And now I think that it is time for all of your people to die.” Richard then whistled and his men started coming out of hiding. Luke was faster though. As soon as he heard Richard whistle, he shot Richard dead by double tapping him in the heart. Now he had to get Marion and the rest of the team out of this ambush. Luke shot any soldier that he saw while Marion was busy cutting down more. They worked their way back to the door, only to find a battle royal going on. The team was in serious trouble. They were heavily outnumbered and Gabriel was out of arrows. Luke had to act and act fast. He slapped another clip in and started to walk and shoot. Richard's men unfamiliar with such a device got nervous and broke. The team took full advantage of this and made their break for it. They had left hidden ropes so that they could make their escape. All they had to do was get to them. As they were running, Gabriel caught an arrow in her leg. She wanted the rest of the team to leave her and get out, but Luke wouldn't hear of it. “You never leave a team member behind, Gabriel. Now come on, let's get the fuck out of here.” Luke picked Gabriel up and threw her over his massive shoulder in a fireman's carry. This way Luke could still fight and Gabriel could shoot her bow as she got the arrows. As the team was getting through one of the doors, Tom was taken down. He had just helped Pollyanna get out for she had turned her ankle and was limping when a swordsman came out of nowhere and ran Tom threw. Pollyanna turned as quickly as she could and killed the swordsman. Stella came out then and seeing Tom lying dead started cursing. She turned to go back in and kill as many bastards as she could find but Marion got to her first and pulled her towards the ropes. Alice got them first and got everything ready for the rest. Marion came up with Stella and Pollyanna. Stella went down first, followed by Pollyanna and Alice. Marion in the meantime waited for Luke and Gabriel. She didn't have long to wait either. Luke came up and Marion was horrified. Luke had numerous cuts across his armor and placed that were not armored were bleeding badly, but Luke was so full of adrenaline that he didn't even notice. He went over with Gabriel hanging on to his back, for dear life, for they had to go down almost forty feet. Marion was the last over and made it down safely but almost didn't. When she was only ten feet from the ground, someone cut her rope and when she landed, she got herself a bad ankle sprain. Thankfully for all their sakes their horses were nearby and they were able to get out of town without too much hassle. Granted this meant that they had to kill the guard at the gate they used and had to lower the drawbridge themselves, still all things considered not bad. Chapter 17. The team had a long ride ahead of them to get back to their campsite, and they were all exhausted. As the team put distance between themselves and the town, their injuries began to make themselves known. Not one of them had managed to escape unscathed. Luke had numerous cuts, especially on his legs and near his hands. Pollyanna had a twisted ankle and was now missing two fingers on her left hand. Gabriel still had the arrow sticking out of her leg and had numerous other cuts. Marion was cut up bad and had a strained ankle. Stella was missing a finger on her right hand and was an emotional wreck after losing Tom. Alice was now missing part of an ear and had a very dramatic cut running down her jawline. Just before daybreak the group finally had to stop. They picked the thickest woods that they could find so that they would at least have some cover until they recovered a bit. Since Alice was the most talented medic in the group, she took charge of tended the wounds while Luke was her adviser. It took Alice almost two hours to tend to the team's wounds while Luke tended to hers. As soon as Marion was taken care of, she started cooking some food for everyone. It wasn't much, just a little bit of stew that Marion made up with the food that was in their saddlebags. “Well Marion, what is going to be our next move for we cannot go anywhere near York now?” asked Stella. “I don't know, Stella. I don't know.” Luke could see and feel the mood of the group get even darker now. He knew that he would have to step in but he had to be careful for he wanted Marion to grow into the leader that he knew she was capable of being. But right now, he had to keep the group together long enough for Marion to learn how to led. “Excuse me ladies but I think that we need to get back to our campsite and hunker down until things calm down a bit. After all, if Cecilia's forces catch us it's pretty much a sure thing that we will all be killed as painfully as possible.” When the rest of the group was far enough away, Luke pulled Marion to him and talked quietly; “Marion, never ever say that you “I don't know” when asked what to do ever again. Do you hear me?” she just stared at Luke for he was frigid. “Those three words will destroy a unit faster than any kind of enemy action. As the leader it's your job to know what to do even when you don't. If you truly want to be a leader then you need to take this advice to heart.” With that Luke helped Marion onto her horse and then mounted his. With the thought of Cecilia chasing them, to keep them company, the group set out again. Luke was worried about Gabriel's leg but right now he had more important worries for Cecilia's troops were starting to get out this far to look for them. The team slipped away as quietly as possible and keep moving though the day. As one member would sleep another one would guide that person's horse. Finally, they got back to their camp from which they had set off from just a couple of days before. Back at camp, the mood was somber for they had lost their friend and comrade, Tom. Emotions ran from just sad for Luke to furious from Stella. This wasn't the first time Luke had lost people in combat and he knew that it wouldn't be the last. Stella in the meanwhile was dealing with a bad case of survivor guilt. Everyone else in camp was between these two extremes. Since it was late in the afternoon, Luke started cooking supper. Yes, it was time to mourn but things still needed to be done, like cleaning his weapons and mending his clothes. As he was cleaning his Sig, Alice came up to him and asked: “Luke, are you going to tell us about that thing and about yourself now?” Luke looked at the others and saw that they wanted the answers. “Can we eat first and then after dinner I will show you all everything?” “I guess.” Alice replied melodramatically. “Thank you.” Dinner that evening was quiet to say the least. The only talking was to ask for food and to say thanks. Luke had managed a hearty venison stew for supper and there was enough left over for breakfast the following morning. After the dishes had been cleaned Luke pulled all of his gear out of hiding. This was going to be the first time that even Marion had seen all his gear. Sure, she had seen the cases, but she had never seen Luke open them. “Ladies, before I show you what I have to show and before I tell what all I have to tell; I must demand that you swear an oath of silence for if the wrong people, like Cecilia, get ahold of the information that I know, the world as you know it could come to an end. If you cannot do this then you need to leave now.” All of the women nodded their heads, agreeing to his terms. Luke started with his rifle. It was one of his most prized weapons, even before getting thrown back into the middle ages. It was a .338 caliber with a Leupold scope on it. With this rifle and the Lapua ammo that he was packing, he could shoot someone between the eyes at almost 1500 meters. Gabriel was amazed with this and Luke could see that she really wanted to try shooting it. “Gabriel” Luke continued once she looked him in the eye “I promise that I will teach you how to use this weapon, as soon as I can start making ammo for it. You will understand why in a little bit.” Luke then pulled out his computer and powered it up. During the last few months, he had taken it out periodically to make sure that the battery stayed charged. He had charged it with his solar powered charging station. When his laptop finished booting up, he started explaining: “Now this devise is called a computer. This one in particular probably holds more information than if you combined all the current knowledge on this planet. Stored in here are text on medicine, engineering, math, geography, economics, general science, and physics. I also have a large selection of music and many pictures of my past life.” “How can all that be stored in that little thing?” asked Marion. “Well, it's kind of hard to explain but let me see if I can massively simplify it so that you all can hopefully understand. The information is stored in a form called bytes. That's the basic building block of all computer languages. A byte is kind of like a letter. Computers like mine can store trillions upon trillions of bytes. Does that make any sense? Computer science was never my strong suit.” “Somewhat” the women responded. “Okay. Now it's time I tell you all my biggest secret. Now before I tell the rest of you; I will tell you that Marion already knows. Okay here it goes.” Luke took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “You know this to be the year 1065 A D. Where I am from it was the year 2021 A D.” All the women, except Marion, had the same stunned look. “Yes, I am from almost a thousand years in the future and as such I not only carry huge amounts of scientific information but I also know the general outline of European history for the next almost thousand years.” When the ladies heard this: Alice passed out, Stella and Pollyanna gasped, and Gabriel looked thoughtful. Only Marion didn't react. “So that's why you have been so quiet about yourself!” exclaimed Gabriel “And I agree with you as it happens. If the information that you possess gets into the wrong hands then the world would change in every way possible and most likely not for the better. Every king and petty noble would want to get their hands on you to learn about their future and then try to change that future to suit them. Problem would be that if you start changing the events then you change the history too.” Luke just nodded at her; he was thankful that Gabriel understood. When Luke looked at Marion, he expected to see anger. Instead, he saw complete love for she now understood why Luke had been so quiet about himself. “Now gather round ladies” Luke said after everyone recovered “I want to show you all my previous life.” Over the next two hours, Luke showed everyone pictures of his pervious life. Everything from his time in the marines, to growing up with his family, to Mackenzie's family, to pictures of his company and some of the projects that he had worked on, all over the world. He also showed them pictures of the places that he had been to and the people that he had seen. Then after promising that she would take upmost care of it, Luke loaned his computer to Alice and Pollyanna. To Alice so that she could study his medical books, and Pollyanna so that she could study the engineering text that was stored with the provision that they only study of about an hour a day so that they wouldn't suffer eye strain. “Okay ladies, time for a brief history lesson, well my history. There is a storm coming. It will start next year when King Edward dies. He will name Herold Godwinson as his successor. Two problems with this though. Herold's brother believed that he should have been named king and gets the king of Norway to support him. The Vikings would invade England, but would be almost animated by Herold's forces. The other problem came from Normandy, and his name was… well is William, Duke of Normandy. Apparently, Edward had also promised him the throne before he gave it to Herold. William would also invade England, but he would beat Herold's troops at the Battle of Hastings. During the battle Herold will die from an arrow to his eye, and William would be forever be known as William the Conqueror. This would be the last time that England would be successfully invaded. During the 1200's, England would control almost all of France but would be eventually driven out completely. England would then turn their attention North and after almost five hundred years of intermittent struggle would conquer Scotland. Eventually they would conquer Ireland as well and would be known as Great Britain. There will be at least two civil wars that I can remember fought over the English crown. The first one was in the 1400's, and was called the War of the Roses and was fought between the houses of Lancaster and York. Eventually the house of York would win but it was a very long and bloody struggle. The second civil war would be in the mid to late 1600's and this one would cement the power of Parliament over the King, for the winner of that war was the forces of Parliament, under the command of a man named Oliver Cromwell and the King would end up losing his head. Eventually the monarchy would be restored but they would remain at best equal with Parliament. After this civil war Britain would eventually go on to rule over one quarter of the globe, and would be one of the most influential empires the world has ever seen. Now by my time the idea of the divine rights of Kings would be dead and the people ruled over themselves. Most of the time this was a better thing then having a king and at other times; well let me say that anyone, no matter at what level they were born at can be just as cruel, for instead of kings or dukes, we had dictators or juntas. Both of these usually came to power through the military and for the most part, as long as they had military support then they would stay in power. Now where I am from, we were once part of the British empire, but fought a war with them and kicked them out in the late 1700's. Over the next 200+ years we would be ruled be the same type of government with only one civil war. That type of government was a constitutional republic that was set up with three separate branches of government that were designed to fight with each other so that none of the three could gain too much power. Also it was what is known as a federal type government, meaning that the national government shared power with the provincial, state was the term that we used, governments and local governments. Another provision in the way our government was set up was the minority would also get to have a say in government and not get rode over by the majority. As if that wasn't enough, the men that set up our government made sure that the people would be able to have their say in government. They even made sure to protect the peoples to firearms so that if somehow the government did become too strong the people could rise up against it. Was our government prefect? Of course not. But was the most stable form of government, over the long term, that humans have ever came up with.” When Luke was done, he was exhausted and all the women sat stunned. They could hardly believe what all Luke had told them, but once they thought it through, they could see the merits of the people wielding power and protections being put in place to protect the minority as well as the majority. Eventually Marion was able to speak up: “Wow, no wonder why you are so afraid to tell people what you know.” Luke just looked at her with sad eyes and nodded. Marion was thrilled and terrified at the same time. She was thrilled because she finally knew everything there was to know about Luke and she was terrified for the same reason. “So, with all those advances were there still diseases and famines?” asked Alice “Yes, although most diseases would be curable in my time and smallpox would be eradicated. Famines still stuck with amazing fluency, especially in Africa and parts of Asia. Most of the time the cause was human related, usually wars or the mismanagement of natural resources at the hands of a corrupt government. Sometimes though, the weather patterns would change and an area would have a series of bad harvest and that would set off famines. And before you ask yes, we still had wars a plenty and they were usually fought the same petty reasons as they are fought for in this time. Only in my time, wars could have casualties in the millions of people and we had weapons that could obliterate the largest cities on Earth. We had enough of these weapons that we could eliminate all the humans on Earth.” “Oh” Alice looked very sad and she even shed a tear hearing Luke. Eventually Marion stood up and stretched. “Well now, I do believe that it is time for us all to lay down and try to get some sleep for tomorrow we need to get focused on surviving and figuring out our next move.” No one moved but Luke. He was the only one that moved towards getting ready for bed. “Marion, I'm scared” confessed Gabriel “your sister will never stop hunting us and unlike you, none of us have skills that are useful out in the world.” “You all have skills” responded Marion “You Gabriel are an amazing fighter and a lot of fun to be around. Alice, you have an interest in real medicine. One of the only people in our world that can say that. Pollyanna, your skills lay in engineering and science. Stella, you Milady are one hell of a leader and I suspect that one day you may be quite famous. We all have our own talents and skills; the trick is knowing how to harness them.” “Still, I'm not only scared for next year but also tomorrow and next week.” Marion gave her a warm smile. “I know the feeling and I get over it by curling up in Luke's arms” They all looked to Luke now. “But...” Marion cut her off with a finger over Gabriel's lips. “Come with me.” Marion and Gabriel went over to where Luke was laying down. Marion then slowly stripped Gabriel's clothes off and Gabriel returned the favor for Marion. Once they were both naked, they laid down with Luke. Marion made sure that Gabriel took the spot right next to Luke so that she could feel all of Luke's body. Luke looked up at Marion with alarm, but Marion just gave him a warm smile and mouthed to him to be gentle. What followed was a whirlwind for Gabriel. She had never been naked with any man and here she was now with a gentle giant. Not only that but Marion was also pressed up against her, encouraging her to be herself and have fun. Luke went slow with Gabriel. He started off be slowly rubbing his hands all over her body feeling her muscles, her tits, her stomach, the pubes, her legs. At first Gabriel was so nervous that she thought that she might be sick. That disappeared when Marion gave her a tender kiss that she had poured all her passion into. Gabriel could feel the love in it and her tension melted away. Finally, her hands started coming to life as well. She started off rubbing Marion because that was the way the Gabriel was facing. Gabriel was amazed at how soft and smooth Marion was, and yet she could feel the power that Marion possessed just under her skin. Eventually though, Gabriel's attention was pulled to the monster that was poking her in her ass. She was amazed when she first felt it. It felt like the size of a horse and it was hot. She could also feel the ridges caused by Luke's veins and she was amazed that something could be so hard and yet so soft feeling at the same time. Gabriel had started to get wet while she had been rubbing Marion, but in feeling Luke, she started to get soaked between her legs. Soon she felt a hand trying to get between her legs, so Gabriel opened up. What came next was the best thing that she had ever felt. It felt like there was an inferno burning between her legs, but Gabriel wanted it to continue. Before long she started to wonder just who's hand was causing her to feel so good and it didn't take long for her to find out for when she looked at Luke, one of his hands was rubbing her tit and his other one was propping his head up so that he could get a better view. That meant that the hand that was making her so hot belonged to Marion. Gabriel had never given a thought as to what it might be like, being with another woman, but she figured what the hell. Within minutes, Gabriel's hips were humping Marion's hand by themselves and Gabriel was having a hard time making noise never mind actually speaking. Finally, she started to shake like a leaf and she saw bright flashes in her eyes. When she finished, she felt like a wet rag for she had a very hard time moving. She tried to open her eyes, but even the dim light from the fire was too much for her to handle at the moment. Marion was giggling as Gabriel struggled to come back to her senses. Once she had come back to her senses enough to be able to function again, Gabriel looked over and into Luke's eyes. She gave him a silent promise that she would never, ever abandon either him or Marion. With that she gently pushed Luke onto his back and with a bit of final encouragement from Marion; Gabriel mounted Luke. At first, she had some problems getting lined up, but a little help from Marion holding Luke's cock; Gabriel figured it out. She slowly made her way down Luke's shaft thoroughly enjoying every bit of it. Finally, Gabriel felt Luke's cock run into her hymen and with a deep breath forced Luke through and he was inside her. Marion gently kissed the tears from Gabriel's face while Gabriel sat perfectly still. It felt like she was being split open by Luke, but she had no desire to remove Luke from inside her. Eventually, the heat from Luke's cock combined with her own heat encouraged Gabriel to start moving. What came next was like seeing another beautiful world for the first time. She slowly built-up speed as her pussy figured out what it liked the best. As she had been moving, Luke had been matching her. Thrust for thrust, move for move. Together they travelled toward a massive orgasm. As Gabriel rode Luke, Marion was busy kissing Gabriel's nipples and rubbing her clit. Gabriel had simply never imagined that she could ever feel this good. As he got close, Luke tried to pull out of her cunt, but Gabriel wasn't having any of it. She knew why Luke was almost desperate to pull out of her, but she didn't care and more to the point, kind of hoped that she would get knocked up. Once Gabriel had made her command known, Luke began to unleash his little swimmers. He first six large shots up inside her and the pulsing of his organ set Gabriel off with an orgasm that might have caused her injury if Marion hadn't been there to hold her and keep her safe. Gently Marion helped Gabriel lay down between Luke and herself. Gabriel couldn't have fought back even if she had wanted to for she had passed out form her orgasm. Luke and Marion formed a human sandwich with Gabriel holding the place of honor between them and within minutes all three had passed out. Chapter 18. Two months earlier. Lucy and Cecilia had just set off after it was decided that Luke and Marion would stay and try to kill Richard. Cecilia though had plans of her own. On the way to Lincoln, she and Lucy talked and Lucy filled Cecilia in on everything Richard had been doing. This was important to Cecilia's plans, plus she wanted Lucy to feel safe. Once the two got to Lincoln, Cecilia led Lucy to a different inn then she had stayed at when she was with Marion and Luke. This inn was one that Cecilia actually owned under an alias. The inn was one of the fronts that Cecilia used to force woman and girls into the sex trade. Cecilia figured that Lucy was good enough looking that she might just be worth a fair amount of money. The inn keeper had strict orders to never acknowledge Cecilia in public. Cecilia was to be treated the same as anyone else. Cecilia would always initiate the contact, usually after most everyone had got to bed for Cecilia had her secrets too. Cecilia's biggest secret was that she was actually extremely intelligent. She had figured out though, at a very young age, that if she played the clumsy fool then no one would expect anything of her and would generally leave her alone. Another one of Cecilia's secrets was that she had killed so many people that she had actually lost count. She either had killed them herself or had ordered their death. By this point in her life, she had built the most powerful crime network in the British islands, and one of the largest in Europe. She dealt in everything from stolen church artifacts to slaves. From commanding pirates on the open seas to highway men on land, she was into everything. Basically, if she could make money from someone else's suffering she did it. She even extorted church officials for land, forgiveness, and money. Once Lucy had gone to sleep, which didn't take long for Lucy was exhausted, Cecilia made contact with her henchmen. In this world she was known by the name Elizabeth and she was not a person that any sane person would ever cross. “That other woman in my room, get her. Just make sure that you idiots don't damage the goods too badly this time. I lost good money with the last bitch you idiots captured.” “Yes ma'am” they barked and were off. Cecilia sat, by herself in a corner, enjoying a good pint when she heard Lucy get captured and a cold smile came across her face. She then heard the soft thud of her men knocking Lucy out. Lucy's life was now for all real purposes over for she was now just one of Cecilia's sex slaves and would be taken to a coastal brothel take specialized in catering to sailors. After Cecilia had finished her pint and food, she went up to bed where the first thing she did was to collect all of Lucy's former possessions. Among them was the money that Luke and Marion had given her. When Cecilia counted it out, she was amazed at how stupid Marion and Luke were for they had given Lucy almost fifty pounds. Lucy quickly pocketed this and went to bed where she slept just as peacefully as she always did. The next morning, after breakfast, she sent a message to Richard telling him that William was dead and that Marion was still alive. She went on to explain briefly about the stranger that had interfered and ruined all their plans. When she was done dictating, the scribe read it back to her and she approved by using her ring to seal the letter. After the message was off, Cecilia spent the rest of the day on business. She had been away for a while and had a lot to catch up on. By that evening she was finally done and was feeling extra horny; so, she went to her special brothel where she could get some well-hung guy either fuck her senseless or rock her gently all night long, depending on her mood. Tonight, she was in the mood to get pounded senseless all night long. She would have to switch out men for they were always so weak but that was just one of the facts of life. When she got there, she got a surprise for there was a large black man that had just came in and she just had to get a piece of that. Cecilia took him up to her room where she ordered him to strip so that she could inspect the goods. She so enjoyed making big, strong men feel powerless. When he finally got naked, Cecilia carefully inspected the man. He had well developed muscles, a large almost pitch-black cock, and he was tall at about six foot. He actually kind of reminded Cecilia of Luke in demeanor but Luke was white, was taller, a little larger cock, and bigger muscles. This man though was far, far better than anything else that was available so Cecilia was happy. She made the man go down on her and eat her to her first orgasm of the evening. She never sucked cock for she wanted the men to last longer inside her. Before Cecilia started fucking herself on his cock, she made sure that he understood the penalty for him cumming too soon. If he cum before Cecilia had cum at least once, then she would castrate him, fry his balls in front of him, and force him to slowly eat them. He was bigger than anyone she had ever had inside her and she was thoroughly stretched out. Cecilia absolutely loved the color contrast between her body and the man she was with. She was snow white while he was dark brown. Needless to say, that Cecilia had no problems with this guy for he fucked her until she had to actually beg for him to fill her cunt with cum, before he pumped her full of juice. Before Cecilia began the night, she figured that she would end up going through several men, but now she could barely move, never mind go look for another guy, so she passed out for the night, after telling the guy to get out. So was Cecilia's life for the next week or so. Wake up whenever she felt like it, take care of business until supper. After supper, she went to get her brains screwed out by her now favorite gigolo. She was a bit worried that she might get pregnant but the sex was far too good to stop and with her stress levels getting fucked senseless every night by a dark piece of forbidden fruit was just what she needed. After eight days, she got a response from Richard. In it he thanked her for the news of his son and also offered to marry her, seeing as he had his own wife killed after suspecting her of cheating on him even though, he kept a harem for himself. Cecilia agreed but with the stipulation that she be made his sole heir and that their marriage be kept an absolute secret. After almost three weeks of back and forth, Cecilia and Richard had come to an agreement. Cecilia would get most everything that she wanted, Richard would keep his harem and Cecilia would pay Richard 2000 pounds. While this was a significant amount of money for Cecilia, it meant that she would by her own calculation be in control of most of Northern England. For she knew something that Richard didn't. Luke, Marion's boy toy, was still out there, he was extremely dangerous, and that he actually cared about the filthy masses. Cecilia figured that sooner or later he would make a move to get rid of Richard and she also figured that Luke would succeed with that. Richard kept his end of the bargain so Cecilia kept hers. She privately figured that she would have all her money back within a month or two especially once she had figured out that Luke had already been in the castle and had met Richard once. Not only that but Richard's men were being attacked by mysterious forces in the areas outside of town, and some of the dead were left where they could be easily spotted from the castle walls. Privately Cecilia figured that Richard had only a month left and she wasn't far off. Within two weeks of the extremely private wedding Luke and Marion struck. As soon as the attack had been driven off Cecilia commanded her most trusted lieutenant: “Go and seal Luke's chambers. Kill anyone that tries to get in or out and wait for me to get there before going in.” “Yes ma'am.” And off he went. When Cecilia examined the armor on the one dead intruder, she was completely amazed at how well it was made and how well it had worked for it was a very lucky strike that took him down. Some of the soldiers identified the man as Tom. It seems that he was one of the soldiers that Luke had chosen to accompany him when he went to look for Richard's son. The other man hadn't been seen at all. The other women were all identified as fresh whores that Richard's men had captured and Richard hadn't had an opportunity to fuck before Luke took them. The thing was that when they had come back, they were all much stronger both mentally and physically then when they had left with Luke. When Cecilia went to investigate Luke's chambers, she was discouraged to find that none of his gear was there. In fact, it didn't look like anyone had been in there for days. Publicly Cecilia spoke about taking strong action against her rebellious little sister and her minions. Privately however, Cecilia was terrified. Marion had almost succeeded and if it hadn't been for the measures that Cecilia had just barely got put in place, Marion most likely would have succeeded. Cecilia knew that she might not be so lucky the next time for she had tipped her hand when Richard called her into the room with him, just before he was killed. Plus, Marion and especially Luke had a knack for winning over the lower classes; while Cecilia hated and was hated by the lower classes. One more thing to turn her world over was that she got word that her favorite gigolo had escaped. It had apparently been quite a bloody thing with five of her best people being killed in the process. He had then got a spot on a ship and had left England for parts unknown. She had made her decision with the rising sun on the morning after the attack; she ordered her armorers to do their best to duplicate the armor that was captured with Tom. Tom's body was beheaded and his head was put on a pikestaff in the town square and his body was burned to ash. Cecilia then made it known that there was a 500-pound reward for the capture of Luke and Marion. The only stipulation was that they had to be taken alive. Cecilia then put a 250-pound reward on the other team member's heads. She also made it known that aiding them in any way was punishable by a very slow and painful death. That done, she then worked on putting a better training program in place for her troops. For they would have to be very well trained and motivated to even stand a chance against Marion. Chapter 19. The next morning, Gabriel woke up more rested than she had felt in years, granted her leg was still throbbing and her pussy was sore, but that was to be expected. At first, she was confused as to why she had slept so well, then she remembered and started to feel guilty because she felt that she had taken advantage of Luke and made herself a promise right there that would never happen again. The next thing she noticed was that it was light out and she was alone. As she looked around, she could hear Luke and Marion talking quietly. Finally, she forced herself to stand and wrapped the blanket around her body. She limped to where everyone else was at. She was hit with the smell of breakfast; the sound of blades being sharpened, and the music that was coming from Luke's computer. “Well look at what the cat drug in.” chirped Alice and to Gabriel's embarrassment everyone including Luke laughed. Her embarrassment deepened when Stella pointed out Gabriel's rapidly reddening checks and the dried cum on her legs and the group laughed harder. Marion actually fell off the stump that she was sitting on she was laughing so hard. Gabriel couldn't run away so eventually she started laughing with the group. As she laughed, she felt her guilt melt away. After all Marion had insisted on sharing Luke with her and Gabriel was very thankful that her first time was with a man that knew how to take proper care of her. She then noticed just how hungry she was as Pollyanna handed her a bowl of left-over stew and a piece of bread. “So, Marion, what's our game plan now?” Gabriel asked. “Well, you are restricted to camp until your leg heals and don't even think about arguing. You can still make arrows and other gear without leaving camp. The rest of us will be taking turns posting lookouts around the camp. When not on lookout duty or hunting, we will be training hard and working on developing better arms and armor. After your leg heals, then we will start collecting fresh intel on Cecilia. She might be better than Richard, but I highly doubt it. I figure that her harsh policies will start to drive people out of their homes and when that happens, we will encourage them to join us. Once we are strong enough then we will strike again. This time we will have even more advanced weapons, much better intel, and most importantly won't be underestimating Cecilia. “So, what happens if we are discovered before I heal?” “Well then we fight. There are booby traps hidden all around camp that enemy troops are sure to fall into. By the time they get through, we should be able to have our horses saddled and get out of here with all of our gear. If we fail, well then we fight and die here.” Gabriel looked like she had turned into a ghost she was so pale. Marion had changed and until that moment, no one had realized just how much Marion had changed. Marion was starting to show the makings of becoming a great Queen. The rest of the women also caught Marion's change and quickly came to the same conclusion as Gabriel. Not only that, they all privately had come to the realization that they would follow Marion into the pits of hell itself. Gabriel then limped over and picked up her sword. She took it out and walking up to Marion kneeled in front of her and offered her the sword and swore an oath of absolute loyally until Gabriel's dying breath. The rest of the group following, including Luke much to everyone's surprise. Everyone had figured that Luke's loyalty was already a given. Through this Marion's cheeks were red with embarrassment. After Luke had finished, Marion swore her loyalty to the group to her dying day. She would gladly die to defend them. This all this done, Marion started giving the team their individual assignments and their watch rotation. Marion made sure that she spent at least as much time on watch during the difficult times of day as the rest of them. She also made sure that everyone had at least a couple of hours a day to relax a bit. The next month was busy for the team. An infection had set into Gabriel's leg and she almost died. Only Alice's dedication and Luke's knowledge had saved her. Marion had gotten over her morning sickness, finally. The rest of the team had fully recovered although Stella still had bouts of survivor's guilt. She kept this at bay by working her ass off and reminding herself that she would get her revenge. Eventually the group started to extend the area that they patrolled. Included in that area was one of the main roads to York. At first, they just watched the traffic and looked for patterns. They noticed that a lot of the traffic was iron ore, food, horses, and textiles and it was all headed for York. Traffic coming from York was very light to say the least and mostly consisted of empty carts that had transported in supplies. At first Marion wondered if Cecilia had come to her senses and had started to care for the people. This idea was forever chased out when she and Alice came across a young man one day by the side of the road. He was barely alive and he wasn't much more than a skeleton with skin. Between the two of them, they easily picked the man up and carried him to their camp. Of course, they blindfolded him after explaining that it was for their safety. The man was so weak that he couldn't have resisted anyway. Once back in camp, Alice went to work on tending to the man's wounds while Marion questioned him. At first Marion would keep her name a secret. She could see no need to give away any more information then was necessary. “So, what is your name, lad?” “Robin.” “Where are you from and where are you going?” “Where I was from was burnt to the ground a week ago and no longer exist. As to where I was going, well I hope that it is heaven for I am not long for this world.” “Now there is no need to think like that. This woman here is an amazing doctor. Now what can you tell me of Cecilia?” “She is pure evil and I bet that the devil himself would be kinder. At first everyone hoped that she would be better than Richard, but hopes of that were dashed within days of Marion's brave, but unsuccessful attack. First Cecilia put out a reward of 500 pounds for Marion and her friend Luke, but they have to be brought in alive. The rest of the group has a 250 pound reward on their heads. I highly doubt though that anyone is fooled by her anymore; for if they did bring in one of the outlaws, Cecilia would have them killed before they could even count out the reward money. Then she raised everyone's taxes even more. Not only that but rumors are that she is extorting the churches in the district into handing over most of their money and artifacts so that she can pay for her soldiers. She is building a massive army but no one really knows why. I mean, after all Marion and her group are most likely dead for nobody has seen or heard them since the attack.” With that Robin bowed his head and started to softly cry. Marion stood up and went over to Luke, who was out of the visitor's line of sight. “You heard?” “Yep. What do you want to do?” Marion looked at Robin for a second. “We will keep him with us as long as Alice can heal him. We will also start attacking Cecilia's troops, but only if we catch them mistreating civilians. When we do attack, we will make sure to do so only in areas away from here. We will also let it be known through the land that we are in fact not dead and are looking for volunteers willing to fight for justice and liberty.” “I agree. When are you planning on telling Robin who you are?” “Soon honey. Soon.” Marion said patting Luke's cheek. Marion returned to Robin and helped Alice by putting cool, damp rags on Robin's forehead to help keep him cool. After he had passed out and was sleeping soundly, Marion quietly called a meeting to announce the new plans. She strictly forbid the use of any of their names around Robin until they were sure of him. She figured about a week or so before they could revile just who they were. The rest of the group nodded their heads in agreement with her. Chapter 20. Marion returns with vengeance. The next week was an extremely busy one for Marion's crew. It had been touch and go for Robin, but he was now starting to mend slowly. They also had their first encounter with Cecilia's men since they had gone into hiding. Pollyanna and Stella had been coming back from a scouting trip when they almost literally stumbled on a group of Cecilia's men raping five women that they had taken from a local village. Since they had the element of surprise and there were only five bastards, Stella quickly made the choice to strike. While Pollyanna stayed hidden in the brush, Stella worked her way around the group. Once she was on the other side, which had only taken her five minutes, she signaled Pollyanna and she signaled back. With that the angel of death spread its wings over the men and within seconds they were all dead, for while neither Stella or Pollyanna were in Gabriel's league; they were no slouches either and the range here was only about 10 meters. They then stepped out of hiding to make sure all the men were dead and to check on the women. The women were so scared that a couple of them peed themselves. First, they had been taken for payment because their families couldn't pay the outrageous taxes that Cecilia was charging. Then when their guards had stopped for lunch, the women were brutally raped for dessert. Then without warning arrows flew out of the woods, killing the guards. Then two very strangely dressed men came out of the woods and checked on the guards. They had to be men for they were wearing pants and had on strange green overcoats that had hoods on them that covered their faces. Then the older one spoke, these “men” were actually women and they removed their hoods. The women that had been raped started crying for they had hope that they might now be safe. Prior to Cecilia's reign of terror, they had been part of successful families that usually didn't have to worry about paying their taxes or putting food on the table, but now they were beyond dirt poor. “Do any of you know who we are?” Asked the younger woman warmly. All five women shook their heads. “Well then introductions are in order then. My name is Pollyanna and I am an engineer. My companion here is Stella, and she is my immediate superior. We are both followers of Marion of York” All five of the women's reactions were about the same. They were shocked beyond belief for they had thought that Marion and her followers had all died. In fact, nobody believed that they were still alive. “Thank you for rescuing us” one of the younger women said quietly. The woman named Stella responded with a smile. “No thanks are necessary. We do have a couple of small favors to ask before we escort you home.” “What are they?” sharply asked the same woman that had spoken up before. “Hey calm yourself if you please. We ask that once all of you have gotten dressed you help us get these bastards off the road. The other thing we ask that you quietly tell people just who's group rescued you.” Again, the women nodded their heads only this time there was no hesitation. They quickly got dressed and then helped Stella and Pollyanna get the bastards off the road and hidden. After the dead were hidden, Pollyanna brought their horses up and loaded all the looted gear up. Going through their loot, they found a total of five pounds ten shillings which Stella divided between the raped women. For Stella and Pollyanna this was no big deal but for the other five this was a godsend for them. They did suggest that the women hide the money so that it wouldn't get stolen from them. After making sure that everything was ready, they set off. Stella made the decision to give the women an escort back to their villages and since Pollyanna didn't have too much to do for the rest of the day went with them. Along the way, the women were full of questions about everything it seemed but especially Marion. Stella and Pollyanna answered most of the questions but not all. They were silent about where they were hiding and they refused to talk about what all they had been doing since the attack. They did answer the questions that pertained to the group's goals. The women had a hard time believing that Marion was aiming toward making all people equal in the law's eyes and giving everyone the opportunity to prove themselves and succeed in life. As the group was coming up to a bend in the road, Pollyanna suddenly stopped and quietly signaled the group to get off the road fast. Stella was the last into hiding: “What's up?” “I heard horses.” “Well, we know what to do with them. Ladies listen to me and listen well. You need to hide. If anything happens to us run and make sure to scatter so that if one of you are found then the rest will still have a chance.” Stella said as she was unlimbering her bow and making sure that her arrows were ready as Pollyanna quickly followed suit. Within minutes a troop of cavalry came around the corner and they were wearing Cecilia's colors. Stella counted twenty men and numerous pack horses as they drew back their bows. Both of them had a new type of bow that Luke had designed. It was far more powerful than anything else in existence and was capable of being shot rapidly. To be continued in part 5, Based on a post by somethin fishy, for Sex Stories.

In this week's episode, Kayla and Taylor discuss Kazuo Ishiguro's 2005 novel Never Let me Go. Topics include the 20th anniversary of this book, how to classify it, the ethics of cloning for organ harvesting, memory and loneliness, rich people clones, talkin' the title, Kathy as narrator (and carer), and the medical inaccuracies of Grey's Anatomy. Plus, we talk at length about quitting social media. And remember: there's no cow on the ice.This week's drink: Amaretto Sour via Friday Night CocktailsINGREDIENTS:1 ½ ounces amaretto liqueur1 ounce lemon juice, freshly squeezed1 teaspoon rich simple syrupGarnish: dried orange wheelINSTRUCTIONS:Add amaretto, lemon juice, and simple syrup to a shaker.Add ice and shake until well-chilled.Strain into a rocks glass over fresh ice.Garnish with a dried orange wheelFor Kayla's variation, add 1 oz of bourbon and an egg white (dry shake first before adding ice and shaking again until chilled)Current/recommended reads, links, etc.:Njuta: Enjoy, Delight In: The Swedish Art of Savoring the Moment by Niki BrantmarkA Physical Education: How I Escaped Diet Culture and Gained the Power of Lifting by Casey JohnstonThe Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham JonesFollow us on Instagram @literatureandlibationspod.Visit our website: literatureandlibationspod.com to submit feedback, questions, or your own takes on what we are reading. You can also see what we are reading for future episodes! You can email us at literatureandlibationspod@gmail.com.Please leave us a review and/or rating! It really helps others find our podcast…and it makes us happy!Purchase books via bookshop.org or check them out from your local public library. Join us next time as we read Thrust by Lidia Yuknavitch

“O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?”— ‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭15‬:‭55‬ ‭KJV‬‬“And I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours; and their works do follow them. And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle. And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle, and reap: for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe. And he that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the earth; and the earth was reaped.”‭‭—Revelation‬ ‭14‬:‭13‬-‭16‬ ‭KJV‬‬Official Website: https://www.iamshellie.com/Support: https://www.iamshellie.com/giveMerch: https://crownsmedia.creator-spring.com/Socials: https://linktr.ee/IAMSHELLIERumble: https://rumble.com/c/c-6746043Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/08SbB6HezwQUl2aupYcDSZApple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/crowns/id1474704503#charliekirk #truth#awakening #resurrection #jesus#kingdomofgod #victory

Northrop Grumman's Cygnus XL spacecraft delays docking with the International Space Station (ISS). PLD Space has been selected by the European Space Research and Technology Centre, part of the European Space Agency (ESA), for its first Guidance, Navigation and Control (GNC) contract. The Space Data Association (SDA) has selected GMV to develop its next generation safety of flight system, and more. Remember to leave us a 5-star rating and review in your favorite podcast app. Be sure to follow T-Minus on LinkedIn and Instagram. T-Minus Guest Torsten Kriening and Yvette Gonzalez from SpaceWatch.Global share the latest from World Space Business Week in Paris. Selected Reading NASA, Northrop Grumman Assessing Cygnus XL Engine Burn Plan PLD Space secures its first GNC contract with ESA to develop a new hybrid navigation system SDA Selects GMV to Deliver Next Generation Safety of Spaceflight System BlackSky Wins NGA Luno A Delivery Order for AI-Enabled Change Detection Anduril and Impulse Space Expand Partnership to Conduct RPO Mission Demonstration in GEO Russia developing Starlink rival at 'rapid pace,' space chief says- Reuters Astro Digital Signs Power Purchase Agreement with Star Catcher to “Plug Into” Space's First Power Grid Maxar Partners with Ecopia AI to Launch Vivid Features, Powering Dynamic Vector Maps of Every Place on Earth IonQ Completes Acquisition of Oxford Ionics, Rapidly Accelerating Its Quantum Computing Roadmap IonQ Announces Intent to Acquire Vector Atomic, Expanding Into Quantum Sensing and Strengthening Its Quantum Technology Portfolio Share your feedback. What do you think about T-Minus Space Daily? Please take a few minutes to share your thoughts with us by completing our brief listener survey. Thank you for helping us continue to improve our show.  Want to hear your company in the show? You too can reach the most influential leaders and operators in the industry. Here's our media kit. Contact us at space@n2k.com to request more info. Want to join us for an interview? Please send your pitch to space-editor@n2k.com and include your name, affiliation, and topic proposal. T-Minus is a production of N2K Networks, your source for strategic workforce intelligence. © N2K Networks, Inc. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

On Off The Bench and The Stone Shields Show today we discuss the Bengals improving to 2-0 but losing star QB Joe Burrow to a toe injury in the process. Off The Bench is back weekdays from 10a to 11a followed by The Stone Shields Show from 11a to noon! In the electrifying chaos of Week 2's NFL showdown on September 14, 2025, at Paycor Stadium, the Cincinnati Bengals clawed to a thrilling 31-27 victory over the Jacksonville Jaguars, marking their first 2-0 start under head coach Zac Taylor since 2018. But the triumph was bittersweet, overshadowed by a devastating injury to star quarterback Joe Burrow. Burrow, the Bengals' franchise cornerstone and reigning Comeback Player of the Year after a stellar 2024 rebound from wrist surgery, dazzled early. He completed 7 of 13 passes for 76 yards and a touchdown, including a sharp 4-yard slant to Ja'Marr Chase in the first quarter. The offense hummed, with Chase erupting for 14 receptions and 165 yards—his best outing since the prior season. Yet, midway through the second quarter, disaster struck. On a second-down sack by Jaguars defensive tackle Arik Armstead, Burrow's left cleat caught the turf awkwardly, hyperextending his big toe. He crumpled, clutching his ankle initially, before trainers zeroed in on the foot. Helped off the field and into the medical tent, Burrow underwent an immediate MRI, emerging on a one-legged scooter, unable to bear weight. Diagnosed with turf toe—potentially a severe Grade 3 tear involving ligaments—the injury could sideline him for multiple weeks, or worse, up to three months if surgery is required. Images were rushed to renowned foot specialist Dr. Robert Anderson, with reports indicating non-surgical options are fading. Burrow was spotted postgame in a walking boot and on crutches, a gut punch for a QB whose career has been plagued by setbacks: a rookie-year ACL rupture in 2020, a 2023 wrist fracture, and nagging knee strains. Enter backup Jake Browning, the steady veteran who went 4-3 in Burrow's 2023 absence. Thrust into the fray with Cincinnati trailing 17-10 at halftime, Browning shook off early jitters—throwing three interceptions, including two picks forced by Bengals defenders Jordan Battle and Dax Hill on Trevor Lawrence. Yet, he steadied, finishing 21-of-32 for 241 yards and two scores. The game-winner? A masterful 93-yard, 15-play drive capped by Browning's 1-yard sneak with 18 seconds left, aided by a pass-interference call on Jaguars rookie Travis Hunter. Lawrence, meanwhile, torched the secondary for 294 yards and three TDs but faltered with two costly picks, dropping Jacksonville to 1-1. Music from #InAudio: https://inaudio.org/ Track Name Holy (Trap). Music from #InAudio: https://inaudio.org/ Track Name Exercise (Rock). #NFL #Bengals #OffTheBench

Who's ready for some half baked backstory with a side of bugs? This week your hosts take on the highly entertaining 'Quest for Survival' and the frankly confusing 'Secret of Omega Supreme'. This Datatrack contains discussion of the following topics; naturally occurring raid cans, Cosmos being put in hentai situations, the trouble with clones, Thrust's continued prominence, the Crystal City Polycule, the funniest way to make Omega Supreme telling a story bearable, the robo smasher, and the general weird vibes in 'SoOS'. Noise Space | Discord | Patreon This podcast is powered by Pinecast.

For The Other Side NDE Videos Visit ▶️ youtube.com/@TheOtherSideNDEYT Purchase our book on Amazon

In this episode, we hear the reasoning for a resolute decision, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Aganaanooru 77, penned by Maruthan Ilanaakanaar. Set in the 'Paalai' or 'Drylands landscape', the verse reveals insightful historical facts through its intriguing similes.

With pilot demand still surging and college alternatives gaining traction, professional flight training has quietly become one of the highest-upside career paths in America as people are rethinking what a “good career” looks like. Joining me today to discuss this is Patrick Arnzen, CEO of Thrust Flight Academy. Patrick is a former airline pilot, and … Continue reading ACP431 Why Professional Pilot Is A Great Career with CEO of Thrust Flight Academy Patrick Arnzen → The post ACP431 Why Professional Pilot Is A Great Career with CEO of Thrust Flight Academy Patrick Arnzen appeared first on Aviation Careers Podcast.

Send us a textDoug and Drew fight sleep deprivation after late night and overnight shifts, respectively.  Doug was on late night 767 simulator training flights and Drew was watching overnight airport ops in DC.  We stay awake to discuss:Remembering 9/11New cockpit barriers coming to an airline near you Spirit's second bankruptcyAnother big Boeing orderDelta settles a lawsuit A checked bag takes the long road Thrust settings on climb outA contributor's fun work project Join the network! https://www.nexttripnetwork.com/

Harry joins Rafe to discuss the principle of lift, problems the Wright brothers needed to solve before their airplane could be complete, how jet engines work, and an unknown brush with greatness that Rafe had years ago.This is Part 2 of two episodes.*****As always, you can reach the Buf at bufnagle@bufnagle.com*****As you know, this is an independent podcast so your hosts also carry all the expenses of running this podcast. As such, some of you have asked how you can help out. Well, here's the answer: support us on Buy Me a Coffee:https://buymeacoffee.com/bufnagleOn this page, you can do a really nice thing like send us a couple dollars to help cover the cost of recording and hosting and microphones and research and all that. Any little bit really helps! Thank you in advance!!!

Harry joins Rafe to discuss the principle of lift, problems the Wright brothers needed to solve before their airplane could be complete, how jet engines work, and an unknown brush with greatness that Rafe had years ago.This is Part 1 of two episodes.*****As always, you can reach the Buf at bufnagle@bufnagle.com*****As you know, this is an independent podcast so your hosts also carry all the expenses of running this podcast. As such, some of you have asked how you can help out. Well, here's the answer: support us on Buy Me a Coffee:https://buymeacoffee.com/bufnagleOn this page, you can do a really nice thing like send us a couple dollars to help cover the cost of recording and hosting and microphones and research and all that. Any little bit really helps! Thank you in advance!!!

In this week's summer celebration of the best of Write-minded and Memoir Nation, we're partnering Amanda Knox and Lidia Yuknavitch, both of whom speak compellingly on what it means to reclaim your story. Whether you've been victimized in some way, as Knox was; or whether you're ready to take back a particular story in your life, to cast yourself as the hero or heroine of your own narrative, as Yuknavitch has, these two guests will light the way. They show not just that reclaiming is a choice, but also how to do it in life and on the page. Such inspiring guests and role models for memoirists—and humans—everywhere. Amanda Knox is an author, journalist, and podcast host whose work explores criminal justice, media ethics, and the human experience. She is the author of two memoirs—Waiting to Be Heard and Free: My Search for Meaning—and co-hosts the podcast, Labyrinths. Lidia Yuknavitch is the National Bestselling author of two memoirs, The Chronology of Water and Reading the Waves; four novels: Thrust, The Book of Joan, Dora: A Headcase, and The Small Backs of Children, winner of the 2016 Oregon Book Awards Ken Kesey Award for Fiction; and the critically acclaimed collection of short fiction, Verge.The Misfit's Manifesto, based on her popular 2016 TED Talk, “The Beauty of Being a Misfit,” was published by TED Books. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoicesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this week's summer celebration of the best of Write-minded and Memoir Nation, we're partnering Amanda Knox and Lidia Yuknavitch, both of whom speak compellingly on what it means to reclaim your story. Whether you've been victimized in some way, as Knox was; or whether you're ready to take back a particular story in your life, to cast yourself as the hero or heroine of your own narrative, as Yuknavitch has, these two guests will light the way. They show not just that reclaiming is a choice, but also how to do it in life and on the page. Such inspiring guests and role models for memoirists—and humans—everywhere. Amanda Knox is an author, journalist, and podcast host whose work explores criminal justice, media ethics, and the human experience. She is the author of two memoirs—Waiting to Be Heard and Free: My Search for Meaning—and co-hosts the podcast, Labyrinths. Lidia Yuknavitch is the National Bestselling author of two memoirs, The Chronology of Water and Reading the Waves; four novels: Thrust, The Book of Joan, Dora: A Headcase, and The Small Backs of Children, winner of the 2016 Oregon Book Awards Ken Kesey Award for Fiction; and the critically acclaimed collection of short fiction, Verge.The Misfit's Manifesto, based on her popular 2016 TED Talk, “The Beauty of Being a Misfit,” was published by TED Books. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week Argyle from Pod of Greed returns to the show to talk about a trio of extremely stupid episodes. While Microbots is mostly your average 'guys shrink down to go inside another guy' episode of children's animation it does contain one of the best scenes in all of G1 and introduces us to Perceptor. Then we experience the Television equivalent of being hit over the head with a sack of doorknobs for 45 minutes with the infamous two parter Megatron's Master Plan. Included in this Datatrack are discussions of the following topics; Brawn's rampant homophobia, Autobot HR, EVIL brain impulses, macguffins too stupid to come back in legacy media, the Optimus Prime costume suspiciously fitted specifically for Starscream, Optimus obeying circuit courts, Cosmos, Tracks stealing the Lambo Bros' whole schtick, Thrust's cowriting credit, and the unfortunate parallels to our modern, stupid reality. Also sorry about my audio! I unplugged my mic and forgot to readjust my levels so I might go from being too loud to too quiet at some points here. Hopefully I fixed most of the peaking- Mara. Noise Space | Discord | Patreon This podcast is powered by Pinecast.

In this episode, Conor and Bryce chat with Jared Hoberock about the NVIDIA Thrust Parallel Algorithms Library and more!.Link to Episode 242 on WebsiteDiscuss this episode, leave a comment, or ask a question (on GitHub)SocialsADSP: The Podcast: TwitterConor Hoekstra: Twitter | BlueSky | MastodonBryce Adelstein Lelbach: TwitterAbout the GuestJared Hoberock joined NVIDIA Research in October 2008. His interests include parallel programming models and physically-based rendering. Jared is the co-creator of Thrust, a high performance parallel algorithms library. While at NVIDIA, Jared has contributed to the DirectX graphics driver, Gelato, a final frame film renderer, and OptiX, a high-performance, programmable ray tracing engine. Jared received a Ph.D in computer science from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. He is a two-time recipient of the NVIDIA Graduate Research Fellowship.Show NotesDate Generated: 2025-05-21Date Released: 2025-07-11ThrustThrust DocsCUB LibraryCCCL LibrariesIntro Song InfoMiss You by Sarah Jansen https://soundcloud.com/sarahjansenmusicCreative Commons — Attribution 3.0 Unported — CC BY 3.0Free Download / Stream: http://bit.ly/l-miss-youMusic promoted by Audio Library https://youtu.be/iYYxnasvfx8

In this episode, Conor and Bryce chat with Jared Hoberock about the NVIDIA Thrust Parallel Algorithms Library, specifically scan and rotate.Link to Episode 241 on WebsiteDiscuss this episode, leave a comment, or ask a question (on GitHub)SocialsADSP: The Podcast: TwitterConor Hoekstra: Twitter | BlueSky | MastodonBryce Adelstein Lelbach: TwitterAbout the GuestJared Hoberock joined NVIDIA Research in October 2008. His interests include parallel programming models and physically-based rendering. Jared is the co-creator of Thrust, a high performance parallel algorithms library. While at NVIDIA, Jared has contributed to the DirectX graphics driver, Gelato, a final frame film renderer, and OptiX, a high-performance, programmable ray tracing engine. Jared received a Ph.D in computer science from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. He is a two-time recipient of the NVIDIA Graduate Research Fellowship.Show NotesDate Generated: 2025-05-21Date Released: 2025-07-04ThrustThrust DocsNumPyRAPIDS cuDFthrust::inclusive_scanC++98 std::rotatethrust::permutation_iteratorthrust::gatherthrust::adjacent_differenceIntro Song InfoMiss You by Sarah Jansen https://soundcloud.com/sarahjansenmusicCreative Commons — Attribution 3.0 Unported — CC BY 3.0Free Download / Stream: http://bit.ly/l-miss-youMusic promoted by Audio Library https://youtu.be/iYYxnasvfx8

In this episode of Pilot's Say What?, we welcome back Hayden Hayes—one of Thrust Flight's own CFIs—for a real and raw conversation about what life is actually like as a flight instructor.Host Zach digs into how Hayden's perspective has evolved since becoming a full-time CFI, what it's like working with students daily, and the biggest technical and emotional challenges of the job. Whether you're a student thinking about instructing or a current CFI looking for a relatable voice, Hayden's insights hit home.

In 2003, Keith Richard—an accomplished logistics expert with no military background—made a decision that would forever alter the course of his life. Tasked with leading a rapidly mobilized operation to deliver critical fuel and supplies to U.S. military forces in Iraq and Kuwait, Richard stepped into a war zone as a civilian leader, navigating a role typically reserved for seasoned military personnel.Thrust into the chaos of war, Richard had to rely on sheer discipline, unshakable grit, and calm resolve to guide both his team and himself. The job was unrelenting—issuing orders that sent unarmed civilian truck drivers into hostile territory, often with no guarantee of return.“Civilians are the unsung heroes of the Iraq War and should be recognized for their patriotism and commitment to support the military,” Richard reflects.In his gripping new memoir, Sand, Grit and Dangerous Supply Missions: The Unsung Civilian Heroes of the Iraq War, Richard recounts his extraordinary journey with humility and raw honesty. From modest beginnings along Mississippi's Gulf Coast to directing a multibillion-dollar logistics campaign in the Middle East, he shares the unseen sacrifices made by thousands of civilian contractors during wartime on this episode of the Security Clearance Careers podcast. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In this episode, Conor and Bryce chat with Jared Hoberock about the NVIDIA Thrust Parallel Algorithms Library, Rust vs C++, Python and more.Link to Episode 240 on WebsiteDiscuss this episode, leave a comment, or ask a question (on GitHub)SocialsADSP: The Podcast: TwitterConor Hoekstra: Twitter | BlueSky | MastodonBryce Adelstein Lelbach: TwitterAbout the GuestJared Hoberock joined NVIDIA Research in October 2008. His interests include parallel programming models and physically-based rendering. Jared is the co-creator of Thrust, a high performance parallel algorithms library. While at NVIDIA, Jared has contributed to the DirectX graphics driver, Gelato, a final frame film renderer, and OptiX, a high-performance, programmable ray tracing engine. Jared received a Ph.D in computer science from the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. He is a two-time recipient of the NVIDIA Graduate Research Fellowship.Show NotesDate Generated: 2025-05-21Date Released: 2025-06-27ThrustThrust Docsiota Algorithmthrust::counting_iteratorthrust::sequenceMLIRNumPyNumbaIntro Song InfoMiss You by Sarah Jansen https://soundcloud.com/sarahjansenmusicCreative Commons — Attribution 3.0 Unported — CC BY 3.0Free Download / Stream: http://bit.ly/l-miss-youMusic promoted by Audio Library https://youtu.be/iYYxnasvfx8

“ Pleasure is not a luxury, it’s your birthright” This week, the Good Moms are joined by intimacy expert, author, and as we’ve decided to call her “Sex Santa” Susan Bratton for a funny and informative look into pleasure, partnership, and personal transformation through the exploration of your body. From 12 years of sexless marriage to becoming a global educator on over 20 types of orgasms, Susan shares how she turned her own bedroom into a second career filled with vibrators, science, and soul-level healing. The three caht about everything from vulva-friendly sex toys to throatgasms, ethical non-monogamy, and the quiet power of a well-prepped yoni massage. You can expect to hear: (12:10) Susan’s previously dull sex life, awakening through pleasure, and how orgasmic healing saved her marriage (20:00) What it means to be an “orgasmonaut” and why most women are settling for way too little in and out of the bedroom (28:45) Susan breaks down over 20 orgasm types, including throatgasms, analgasms, nipplegasms, and more (35:10) The science behind expanded orgasm and why it’s not just about sex it’s about source (44:20) Yoni massage, the Queen vibrator, and why most sex toys are designed without Black women in mind (51:50) Thrust-in-time: a Taoist technique to make intercourse more orgasmic and deeply connective (1:03:30) Why Susan loves sex toys that vibe with your partner, not just beside them (1:07:00) Grandmas use vibrators too (1:10:45) Cannabis and your libido (1:19:20) Ethical non-monogamy, kitchen table polyamory, and how she manages a husband and a boyfriend with her daughter’s full knowledge (1:27:15) STI testing without the awkward clinic trip and how new tech makes screening easier than ever (1:32:40) Affirmation of the Week: “More toys, more orgasms, more joy. Pleasure is my birthright.” Whether you're solo, partnered, or just vibing with curiosity, this episode offers a powerful reminder: pleasure is not a luxury, it's information, it’s medicine, and it’s yours to claim. ------------------------ Links mentioned in this week's episode: orgasmicintercourse.com – A free resource for learning techniques for orgasmic intercourse. fullpaneltest.com – STI home testing service thrustintime.com –Technique for deeper sexual connection and stimulation. betterlover.com – education and resources on sex, intimacy, and pleasure. Lexus/Kiiro- LINK HERE ------------------------ Watch This episode & more on YouTube! Catch up with us over at Patreon and get all our Full visual episodes, bonus content & early episode releases. Join our private Facebook group! Let us help you! Submit your advice questions, anonymous secrets or vent about motherhood anonymously! Submit your questions Connect With Us: @GoodMoms_BadChoices @TheGoodVibeRetreat @Good.GoodMedia @WatchErica @Milah_Mapp --------- Got a lover? Join our Couples Retreat Code: Pleasure See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This week The President of The United States of America and Tech Stuff Guy discuss US Bombing Iran, Memphis Mayor, Obama, and more. If you enjoy the show leave a rating and review on spotify or iTunes. Join the Patreon for hours of bonus content ⁠www.Patreon.com/MPGA Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Guests: Rep. Jamie Raskin, Simon Sandoval-Moshenberg, Jacob Soboroff, Charlie WarzelTonight: the new spin that Donald Trump is taking the "high road” as Elon announces his "third party.” Plus, new shockwaves from Elon Musk's Epstein allegations as Democrats demand answers from the Justice Department. And just when you thought due process was dead, Kilmar Abrego Garcia is returned to the United States to face charges—and his lawyer will join live.   Want more of Chris? Download and subscribe to his podcast, “Why Is This Happening? The Chris Hayes podcast” wherever you get your podcasts.

Kelly and Leandra are finally out of the castle and have stumbled upon a song that some listeners may be shocked to learn exists! Listen in for some jarring callbacks (you'll see what I did there) and a discussion of fog, misheard lines, and special effects!Questions? Thoughts? Things you want us to bring up during our final Crim break? Just random pictures of your pets dressed up in Rocky costumes doing The Time Warp? Send it all over to rockyhorrorminute@gmail.com! Thank you for all of the5-star reviews on Apple Podcast! Now find other places to review us! Go on now, get! It's the Cowboy Way™

A year ago, the Eagles were propelled to the Super Bowl thanks to the immediate impact of newcomers likes Saquon Barkley, Zack Baun, Quinyon Mitchell, Cooper DeJean and Mekhi Becton. A year later, there are fewer fresh faces, but the Eagles will still need new players to help the cause, whether it's rookies like Jihaad Campbell and Andrew Mukuba or veterans like Kenyon Green and Azeez Ojulari. Zach Berman and Bo Wulf go back and forth on their expectations while also keeping an eye on the future of the Tush Push.

Face to face, but not quite eye to eye. Former Canadian ambassador to Washington Frank McKenna says that, despite his bluster about the 51st state, when Mark Carney visited the White House, the president seemed to respect the prime minister.  From bad to worse to worse. The head of a British charity supporting Palestinians tells us he's trying to stay hopeful, despite Israeli plans that promise to make life for civilians in Gaza even more dangerous. Zero compromise on zero tolerance. As cardinals gather in Rome to choose a new Pope, a survivor of sexual abuse tells us now has to be the time for the Catholic church to make things right.It's a free country; well, right now, it's a free province. But we hear from activist Dennis Modry who says Alberta should be its own country -- and is confident a referendum would deliver just that verdict.The needles and the damage undone. During the NHL playoffs, an Edmonton Oilers fanatic is crocheting emotional support chickens for her fellow stressed-out fans -- in the hopes that her handiwork will unknit their brows. Thrust into the limb-light. We'll cuttle up with the cuttlefish -- which science suggests is using its many flexible arms to communicate in some kind of sign language.As It Happens, the Tuesday Edition. Radio that's also available as a cephalopodcast. 

In the background, a man can be heard desperately calling out, “Scarlett, Scarlett,” before he tells Sarah that their daughter is turning blue. The first ambulance arrives at the scene in just five minutes, but paramedics are not prepared for what they find…*** LISTENER CAUTION IS ADVISED *** This episode was researched and written by Eileen Macfarlane.Edited by Joel Porter at Dot Dot Dot Productions.Script editing, additional writing, illustrations and production direction by Rosanna FittonNarration, additional audio editing, script editing, and production direction by Benjamin Fitton.To get early ad-free access, including Season 1, sign up for They Walk Among PLUS, available from Patreon or Apple Podcasts.More information and episode references can be found on our website https://theywalkamonguspodcast.comMUSIC: Infiltration by Wicked Cinema SirenSong by Chelsea McGough Rampant by CJ0 Wolgrim by Cody Martin The Arctic by Gold Coast Deceptive Cadence by JCar Quiet Desperation Part 2 by JCar Mind Over Matter by Chelsea McGough Sleep by Stephen Keech Driven To The Edge by Salon Dijon Point Of No Return by Salon Dijon Twilight Moon by Caleb Etheridge Allied by Wicked Cinema Crooked Man by Wicked Cinema No Escape by Wicked Cinema The Rite by Wicked Cinema Vanished by Wicked Cinema SOCIAL MEDIA: https://linktr.ee/TheyWalkAmongUsSupport this show http://supporter.acast.com/theywalkamongus. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.