Podcasts about Totem

Jason and the search for an iguana in Key West -- will he be victorious? Jackson the Totem is almost done with his antics, food trends for 2026, and Cabbage Patch Kid memoriesSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

We're back with a brand-new episode as Sharla sits down with some of Bonnaroo's top festival content creators to talk all about capturing the magic of Bonnaroo Music & Arts Festival. From behind-the-scenes festival moments and unforgettable Bonnaroo experiences and hilarious stories, this episode is full of real festival talk. We also break down what had us most excited about in 2025 as we share our 2025 top picks! Whether you're a longtime Bonnaroo fan, a music festival lover, or a content creator looking to grow in the festival space, this episode has something for you.Find the amazing Bonnaroo content creators from the show at:Becky: tiktok.com/@festiebestiebeckyBecca: tiktok.com/@beccaroovian Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

The new Netflix documentary 'Sean Combs: The Reckoning' profiling rapper, producer, and now convict P Diddy, has set the internet alight. We review the documentary, focusing on its themes of sexual violence and psychological control, behaviour that P Diddy got away with across four decades. We also discuss how the documentary presents a psychological profile of the real Sean Combs, someone who no matter what damage he caused, somehow managed to capitalise on it, only to cause more carnage. Plus, revenge as justice, malignant narcissism's sadism, Sartre, Freud's Totem and Taboo, mechanisms of financial and psychological control, how the American black middle-class utilise the black working-class and lumpen underclass in the entertainment industry, and at the end we give our own examples from leftwing politics of individuals who sought to psychologically wield power over others and the ‘tests' and tactics they would use.

It's both Holiday Season and Lineup Season in one!  Sharla's back this week to go through some of her picks that she has in mind from the 2026 lineup, and we're also talking about what some great gift ideas might be for the Bonnaroo Rookie in your life!Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

In dieser zweiten Folge der Predigtserie „Room for God“ widmet sich P. Georg Rota dem praktischen Aspekt, wie wir den Raum in unserem Herzen für Gott vorbereiten, nachdem die anfängliche Sehnsucht uns auf die Suche geschickt hat. Die Grundthese lautet: Es geht nun um den Rückwärtsgang des Gebetslebens – das Zulassen und Empfangen Gottes, was nur durch konsequentes Entrümpeln und den inneren Aufbau (Umkehr und Bauarbeit) möglich wird. Das Problem: Unerwünschtes Chaos und Gerümpel Wenn Jesus anklopft und eintreten möchte, besteht die Gefahr, dass er ein großes Chaos vorfindet, vergleichbar mit einer Baustelle oder einem kürzlich übersiedelten Haus voller Kisten. Viele Räume in unserem Leben sind mit Gerümpel, Lärm, Oberflächlichkeit, Stress oder überfüllten To-do-Listen vollgestopft. Auch die chronische Vergleicherei kann unsere gesamte innere Bandbreite in Anspruch nehmen. Dieses Chaos blockiert uns daran, Gott wirklich in unserem Herzen zu empfangen. Die wahre Bedeutung der Umkehr: Raum schaffen Der erste notwendige Schritt ist die Umkehr, was wörtlich bedeutet, Raum für Gott zu schaffen und Hindernisse aus dem Weg zu räumen. Umkehr ist dabei nicht in erster Linie ein äußerlicher Richtungswechsel, sondern eine innere Herzensverwandlung und eine Umkehr unseres Denkens. Es geht darum, Dinge in unserem Herzen zu benennen und zu entsorgen, die sich angesammelt haben und im Weg stehen. Gott darf dabei eine "Taschenlampe" benutzen, um Dinge zu beleuchten, die wir versteckt haben. Die Umkehr soll nicht mühsam oder unangenehm sein, sondern zur Befreiung führen; sie ist nicht eine Niederlage, sondern ein Startsignal für die Renovierung des Herzens. Drei praktische Schritte zur Raumschaffung und inneren Bauarbeit: 1. Entrümpeln (Umkehr praktizieren): Wir müssen Gott die Erlaubnis geben, in unserem Herzen aufzuräumen. Dies kann mit dem einfachen Gebet beginnen: „Gott, wenn es dich gibt, dann darfst du in meinem Herzen ausräumen“. Dies ist notwendig, da Gott ein Gentleman ist und sich nicht aufdrängt; er kommt nur, wenn er eingeladen wird. 2. Das Fundament legen (Gebet als Baustelle): Sobald entrümpelt wurde, muss ein Fundament gelegt werden, denn der Platz ist noch nicht fertig. Jesaja spricht in diesem Zusammenhang prophetisch von neuem Leben, das aus etwas scheinbar Totem (einem Baumstumpf) entsteht – das ist göttliche Logik. Auf diesem Fundament ruht der Heilige Geist, der die Gaben (Geist der Weisheit, der Erkenntnis, der Stärke) als innere Säulen liefert, die den Raum festigen und stabil machen. Gebet ist eine innere Werkstatt, die der Seele Statik verleiht, indem sie uns Struktur und Prioritäten gibt. 3. Den Ort bestimmen (Physische und zeitliche Struktur): Um diese Bauarbeit einzuüben, sollten wir dem Gebet einen festen Platz einräumen. ◦ Physischer Raum: Schaffe eine Gebetsecke in deinem Zuhause (z. B. mit einem Sessel, einer Kerze und einer Bibel). ◦ Zeitlicher Raum: Definiere einen festen Zeitpunkt im Tagesablauf (z. B. morgens oder abends) und beginne klein – lieber 5 Minuten als 0 Minuten. ◦ Inhalt: Fülle diesen Raum, indem du das Evangelium zur Hand nimmst, einen kleinen Abschnitt liest und anfängst, mit Jesus darüber ins Gespräch zu kommen. Das Ziel der Bauarbeit ist nicht, einen perfekten Palast zu errichten, sondern ein bewohnbares Haus, in dem Christus ankommen und sich wohlfühlen kann, und in dem wir selbst zur Ruhe kommen können. Gott wartet dabei nicht auf Perfektion, sondern möchte, dass wir verfügbar sind und einfach die Tür öffnen. Der durch Gebet gewonnene Friede soll nicht nur persönlich bleiben, sondern auch einen missionarischen Horizont haben und auf die Mitmenschen ausstrahlen.

In dieser zweiten Folge der Predigtserie „Room for God“ widmet sich P. Georg Rota dem praktischen Aspekt, wie wir den Raum in unserem Herzen für Gott vorbereiten, nachdem die anfängliche Sehnsucht uns auf die Suche geschickt hat. Die Grundthese lautet: Es geht nun um den Rückwärtsgang des Gebetslebens – das Zulassen und Empfangen Gottes, was nur durch konsequentes Entrümpeln und den inneren Aufbau (Umkehr und Bauarbeit) möglich wird.Das Problem: Unerwünschtes Chaos und Gerümpel Wenn Jesus anklopft und eintreten möchte, besteht die Gefahr, dass er ein großes Chaos vorfindet, vergleichbar mit einer Baustelle oder einem kürzlich übersiedelten Haus voller Kisten. Viele Räume in unserem Leben sind mit Gerümpel, Lärm, Oberflächlichkeit, Stress oder überfüllten To-do-Listen vollgestopft. Auch die chronische Vergleicherei kann unsere gesamte innere Bandbreite in Anspruch nehmen. Dieses Chaos blockiert uns daran, Gott wirklich in unserem Herzen zu empfangen.Die wahre Bedeutung der Umkehr: Raum schaffen Der erste notwendige Schritt ist die Umkehr, was wörtlich bedeutet, Raum für Gott zu schaffen und Hindernisse aus dem Weg zu räumen. Umkehr ist dabei nicht in erster Linie ein äußerlicher Richtungswechsel, sondern eine innere Herzensverwandlung und eine Umkehr unseres Denkens. Es geht darum, Dinge in unserem Herzen zu benennen und zu entsorgen, die sich angesammelt haben und im Weg stehen. Gott darf dabei eine "Taschenlampe" benutzen, um Dinge zu beleuchten, die wir versteckt haben. Die Umkehr soll nicht mühsam oder unangenehm sein, sondern zur Befreiung führen; sie ist nicht eine Niederlage, sondern ein Startsignal für die Renovierung des Herzens.Drei praktische Schritte zur Raumschaffung und inneren Bauarbeit:1. Entrümpeln (Umkehr praktizieren): Wir müssen Gott die Erlaubnis geben, in unserem Herzen aufzuräumen. Dies kann mit dem einfachen Gebet beginnen: „Gott, wenn es dich gibt, dann darfst du in meinem Herzen ausräumen“. Dies ist notwendig, da Gott ein Gentleman ist und sich nicht aufdrängt; er kommt nur, wenn er eingeladen wird.2. Das Fundament legen (Gebet als Baustelle): Sobald entrümpelt wurde, muss ein Fundament gelegt werden, denn der Platz ist noch nicht fertig. Jesaja spricht in diesem Zusammenhang prophetisch von neuem Leben, das aus etwas scheinbar Totem (einem Baumstumpf) entsteht – das ist göttliche Logik. Auf diesem Fundament ruht der Heilige Geist, der die Gaben (Geist der Weisheit, der Erkenntnis, der Stärke) als innere Säulen liefert, die den Raum festigen und stabil machen. Gebet ist eine innere Werkstatt, die der Seele Statik verleiht, indem sie uns Struktur und Prioritäten gibt.3. Den Ort bestimmen (Physische und zeitliche Struktur): Um diese Bauarbeit einzuüben, sollten wir dem Gebet einen festen Platz einräumen.◦ Physischer Raum: Schaffe eine Gebetsecke in deinem Zuhause (z. B. mit einem Sessel, einer Kerze und einer Bibel).◦ Zeitlicher Raum: Definiere einen festen Zeitpunkt im Tagesablauf (z. B. morgens oder abends) und beginne klein – lieber 5 Minuten als 0 Minuten.◦ Inhalt: Fülle diesen Raum, indem du das Evangelium zur Hand nimmst, einen kleinen Abschnitt liest und anfängst, mit Jesus darüber ins Gespräch zu kommen.Das Ziel der Bauarbeit ist nicht, einen perfekten Palast zu errichten, sondern ein bewohnbares Haus, in dem Christus ankommen und sich wohlfühlen kann, und in dem wir selbst zur Ruhe kommen können. Gott wartet dabei nicht auf Perfektion, sondern möchte, dass wir verfügbar sind und einfach die Tür öffnen. Der durch Gebet gewonnene Friede soll nicht nur persönlich bleiben, sondern auch einen missionarischen Horizont haben und auf die Mitmenschen ausstrahlen.

Une conférence de Septeo des RDV Transformations du Droit 2025 > https://www.transformations-droit.com:Dans un contexte de transformation technologique, économique et culturelle, la relation entre juristes d'entreprise et avocats ne peut plus se limiter à une logique client-prestataire.Elle doit évoluer vers une alliance stratégique, fondé sur la transparence, la co-construction et la création de valeur.Nous vous invitons à une table ronde exclusive pour explorer ensemble les leviers d'une collaboration juridique renouvelée.Comprendre quels sont les freins ? Qu'est-ce qui fait la différence entre une équipe, un groupe ? Et comment les dépasser ?Quels leviers ? Comment créer une culture commune chez des individus d'entités différentes, une maison commune est-il possible ?Fondation de la maison ? La vision MDT. Pourquoi ? Pour plus de performance… Les MDT – Les « Multi Disciplary Teams » ( legal ops, juriste, avocat, IA ?) dessinent la performance juridique et où chacun peut trouver sa place selon ses singularités et son modèle économique.Les murs porteurs ? Les Legal Tech sont ici bien plus que des outils ; mais le Totem de la nouvelle équipe – interopérabilité data/outils atténue les chocs culturels. Par ailleurs, Le legal talent management , soft skills, leadership rendent possible le pilotage de la diversité – homogénéisation des ressources sans uniformisation.Intervenants :- Carla Hegly-Chung, directrice commerciale Septeo Legal Suite- Jérôme FRIZZERA-MOGLI, Head of Innovation and Business Development, Edhec Augmented Law Institute- Jean-Charles Simon, avocat associé et gérant du cabinet Simon & Associés- Sophie Vieilledent, Responsable Juridique & Legal ops, Fnac Darty.Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

Heads up!  This is a preview of a much longer discussion that is exclusive to our YouTube channel.Find it at: https://www.youtube.com/@therealroobus----------In this YouTube exclusive, we have Evan, Skyler, Chloe and Pondo on to do a deep dive into not only the 2026 lineup, but the grounds changes, and the state of Bonnaroo itself!  This goes on twice as long as we intended, so strap down for some insanely wild discussion.  Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

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

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

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

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

It's Bonnaroo Christmas!  The lineup for 2026 has dropped early, and we're here with part one of a ton of fun stuff we have for you this week.  In this episode, we're talking with Cory and Tuba from the Bonnaroo staff about what next year's event is going to look like.  We're also talking with Morgan Jahnig from Old Crow Medicine show about the very first Bonnaroo and their new Christmas record.  Also included is some lineup reaction from friends, and a very special surprise guest as well.  The road to Roo starts today!Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Der ORF hat an einer Pressekonferenz zu einem Toten nach Covid-Injektion teilgenommen – doch das Thema dann einfach verschwiegen. Neuester Skandal beim Zwangsgebühren-Sender: Bis heute werden die Toten und Schäden nach der Covid-Spritze einfach ignoriert!

El sábado 29 de noviembre en la sala Totem de Villava

Sharla and Daniel are back with the latest Bonnaroo news! This week, we cover the return of Bonnaroo Radio, all the new Roo Clues that have dropped, and much more. Plus, Matty joins us the podcast for an interview with SUSTO, an artist playing the 2026 Bonnaroo Wednesday Party. Don't miss the latest updates for Bonnaroo 2026 fans. Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Last year we unlocked part 1 of our Thanksgiving Special so that everyone could hear the good/bad news about the "Holiday Syndrome." This year we're unlocking part 2, on settler colonialism, history, fantasy, ritual, and more. Whether you're celebrating, traveling, or staying home, we promise there's a lot to chew on here!Unlocked Patreon episode. Support Ordinary Unhappiness on Patreon to get access to all the exclusive episodes. patreon.com/OrdinaryUnhappinessIn the second – overstuffed – installment of our two-part Thanksgiving Special, we discuss the social demand to perform “thankfulness”; the parable of primal murder and subsequent myth-making at the heart of Freud's first foray into armchair anthropology, Totem and Taboo (1913); Christianity, civic religion and the “totems” and sacrifices of ritual meals as obligatory touchstones for enforcing social cohesion; the history of the Thanksgiving holiday as a project of ideological integration and national-mythmaking; the history behind the supposed “first Thanskgiving”; the psychic tolls of repression at the level of the individual, the family, and the nation; settler colonialism as a term of political and libidinal economy; primal scenes and screen memories; indigenous activism, counter-memories, and the National Day of Mourning; compulsory identification, difficult recognitions, disidentifications, and the creation of new possibilities.Citations available on Patreon here.Have you noticed that Freud is back? Got questions about psychoanalysis? Or maybe you've traversed the fantasy and lived to tell the tale? Leave us a voicemail! (646) 450-0847  A podcast about psychoanalysis, politics, pop culture, and the ways we suffer now. New episodes on Saturdays. Follow us on social media: Linktree: https://linktr.ee/OrdinaryUnhappiness Twitter: @UnhappinessPod Instagram: @OrdinaryUnhappiness Patreon: patreon.com/OrdinaryUnhappiness Theme song: Formal Chicken - Gnossienne No. 1 https://open.spotify.com/album/2MIIYnbyLqriV3vrpUTxxO Provided by Fruits Music

Today Rob and Val review the spicy new Arcane Journal: The Razing of Westerland! While the Westerland might not be Val's favorite province to see razed, we are here for the rules juice. Has Santa has come early and brought treats for everyone?  *CHAPTERS* 0:00 - Intro 2:41 - New Rules: Chaotic Cults (Replacing Marks for Marauders) 5:49 - Cult of the Bloodied Hound 6:51 - Cult of the Slithering Serpent  7:33 - Cult of the Carrion Crow 8:27 - Cult of the Fell Raptor 9:49 - Chaos Marauders  14:50 - Marauder Horsemen  18:21 - New Rules: Chaotic Traits (Upgrades for Characters & Units) 20:49 - Unnatural Fortitude  21:49 - Dark Hearts  24:14 - Longstriders & Enhanced Reflexes  26:57 - Battle Hunger  29:12 - Prophetic Foresight 35:50 - New Magic: Lore of the Shadowlands 44:36 - CHRISTMAS TIME: *Universal Magic Items for Everyone!* 45:45 - Magic Weapons: Cackling Blade & Meteor Hammer 49:41 - The Sword of Sorrow  51:30 - Magic Armor: Levitating Shield & Trailblazers 53:38 - Talismans: Icon of Fortitude & Ironhide Talisman 56:43 - Magic Standards: Banner of the Steadfast 58:15 - Totem of Wrath  1:01:00 - Monster Hunter's Tapestry  1:02:32 - Enchanted Items 1:05:49 - Arcane Items 1:11:25 - Final Thoughts: Is this Arcane Journal "Not Boring"? MENTIONED IN THIS VIDEO: ► *Rob's Old World EVENTS in Nottingham!* https://tsnarena.com/events/category/the-old-world/ ►  Support us on PATREON and join us on Discord: https://www.patreon.com/Squarebased *OLD WORLD RESOURCES* ► *Square Based Comp AND Tournament Packs*    https://thehonestwargamer.com/warhammer-the-old-world/square-based-comp/ ► *The Square Based FAQ:* https://www.squarebased.com/faqs ► *The Renegade Legacy Pack:*  https://www.squarebased.com/ ► *Our 500pt Foray Pack:* https://thehonestwargamer.com/warhammer-the-old-world-500-point-foray/ ► *Old World Army Builder:* https://old-world-builder.com/ ► *Old World Rules Wiki:* https://tow.whfb.app/ *MERCH*   https://thehonestwargamer.com/product-category/square-based/ Youtube Music Playlist for Audio Only:  https://tinyurl.com/SB-YouTube-Music-Playlist Podcast on all other Platforms:  https://squarebasedpodcast.podbean.com/ #squarebased #warhammertheoldworld #warhammerfantasy

Avec : Pierre Rondeau, économiste. Élise Goldfarb, entrepreneure. Et Daniel Riolo, journaliste RMC. - Accompagnée de Charles Magnien et sa bande, Estelle Denis s'invite à la table des français pour traiter des sujets qui font leur quotidien. Société, conso, actualité, débats, coup de gueule, coups de cœurs… En simultané sur RMC Story.

We're handing over the keys to the podcast this week!  Skyler, Chloe, Jax, and Christie are taking over the podcast to talk about, well, whatever the heck they want to.Sharla and Daniel (plus a special guest) pop in for just a few moments as well, and we all have a few leaks and confirmations to talk about when it comes to the Bonnaroo 2026 lineup.Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

All credit to Lynyrd Skynyrd and TOTEM for the Remix.

This week, one of our BFF's Andrew is on the pod to take a huge dive into everything Tame Impala and Deadbeat.  We talk about the themes of the album, the new sound, and how they play live on That One Guy's recent live shows.We also talk about some big news as Andrew is able to confirm one of Bonnaroo 2026's headliners.  Sharla and Daniel also talk about Roo Clues, and some big TOTEM news as well. Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

This week, Brooklin and Daniel take the trip down to Live Oak for Hulaween!  We've got talks with our friends, a look in at all the art, clips of performances, and much more!If you're just listening to this episode, please make sure to watch the full video on YouTube!  Find our channel at: https://www.youtube.com/@therealroobusSupport the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Au programme dans l'actu des nouvelles technologies et de l'accessibilité dans cet épisode : Du côté des applications et du web Jaws, Zoomtext et Fusion 2026 sont disponibles. NVDA 2025.3.1 est disponible au téléchargement : correction d'une faille de sécurité. HumanWare travaille sur des fonctions IA sur les lunettes Ray-Ban Meta. Nombreuses annonces IA chez Microsoft / Windows Hey Copilot, Vision, Actions : le guide pratique des nouvelles fonctions IA qui arrivent sur Windows 11. Fabrice - Voici Mico, le nouveau visage de l'IA sur Windows. Préparez-vous à beaucoup lui parler. Philippe - Copilot Vision sur Windows s'ouvre au texte. 10 000 agents publics vont expérimenter un assistant IA « souverain ». Accessibilité numérique : la DGFIP (Ministère de l'Économie des Finances et de la Souveraineté) … mise en garde par l'Arcom. Le site impots.gouv.fr ne respecte pas l'obligation d'accessibilité numérique qui s'applique aux services publics. Le reste de l'actu Plus fort que le GPS, Orange et Totem veulent la géolocalisation au centimètre près sur toute l'Europe. Samsung va venir concurrencer les Ray-Ban Meta en sortant ses propres lunettes connectées. lignes directrices sur l'accessibilité des services audiovisuels par l'Arcom. Deux associations s'allient pour l'accessibilité numérique pour les DV. Un appel au peuple depuis l'Espagne sur un travail de recherche à propos des dictionnaires numériques. Adresse email de [Maria : mailto:mariagarciagarmendia@gmail.com. Témoignage Cette semaine Michel revient sur notre questionnement à propos de l'accessibilité de l'application Tchap, application de messagerie gouvernementale destinée aux agents de l'état. Foire Aux Questions Cette semaine, une question de Éric à propos de l'audiodescription des services SVOD. Remerciements Cette semaine, nous remercions Éric, Leonardo et Michel pour leurs infos ou leur dons. Si vous souhaitez vous aussi nous envoyer de l'info ou nous soutenir : Pour nous contactez ou nous envoyez des infos, passez par le formulaire de contact sur la page oxytude.org/contact. Pour nous soutenir via Paypal, c'est sur la page paypal.me/oxytude. Pour vos achats sur Amazon, passez par notre lien affilié oxytude.org/amazon.. Pour animer cet épisode Alain, Fabrice et Philippe.

It's our first full video episode!  If you're just listening make sure that you check out our YouTube page at TheRealRooBus, we'll be giving a full tour of The Orion Amphitheater here in Huntsville, as well as a tour of the inside of the Roo Bus itself.Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

We've got a double sized episode for you this week!  From WellRED and Comedy Central, stand up comedian and Roo veteran Drew Morgan is on with us this week and has a ton of fun stories to share.  Also many of our previous TOTEM scholarship recipients are on to help next year's rookies and offer advice for anyone applying for 2026.  And as you may have guessed, we've got a good bit to say about Tame Impala's DEADBEAT.Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Dans son ouvrage «Écrire le français», Gabriella Parussa retrace l'histoire de l'écrit de la langue française, et son évolution.  Comment le français est-il devenu une langue écrite ?  Le français fut tout d'abord une langue orale, une langue parlée, une langue de la communication, alors que la langue écrite, celle de la culture, de la justice, de l'administration, était le latin.   Le français a beaucoup évolué, tant au niveau de la phonétique qu'au niveau de la syntaxe et la morphologie.  Les premiers textes (rarissimes) écrits en français remontent à la deuxième partie du IXè siècle. C'est l'alphabet latin qui est utilisé pour «transférer» cette langue de l'oral à l'écrit, mais Il faut faire des ajustements, car l'alphabet latin n'est pas parfait et ne permet pas de restituer tous les sons… Il y a alors vingt-trois lettres dans l'alphabet latin.  Le passage à l'écrit s'est fait avec la volonté de conserver la mémoire. Les premiers «livres» s'écrivaient grâce à des copistes ; cela pouvait prendre des mois.  L'écriture : comme une «peinture de la voix»  En 842, les petits-fils de Charlemagne signent une alliance militaire : les serments de Strasbourg, Nithard écrit alors en ce qu'on appelle «le proto français» : un mélange entre le latin tardif et le français. C'est l'un des premiers textes conservés avec des traces de français écrit. «C'est une étape importante, on écrit dans les deux langues vernaculaires de l'époque».  Ils écrivent cette nouvelle langue en «écoutant». «On dira que l'écriture doit être comme une peinture de la voix, doit correspondre à ce que l'on dit, ce qu'on prononce».  Le français est alors très mouvant : on ne parle pas et on n'écrit pas de la même manière selon qu'on habite Arras ou Lyon. Mais les choses vont se fixer avec l'invention de l'imprimerie puis des premières grammaires écrites. Les variations vont alors s'estomper peu à peu. Les imprimeurs vont alors jouer un rôle très important dans la standardisation pour que le livre qu'ils diffusent soit lu et compris et plus grand nombre. Les graphies régionales vont alors peu à peu disparaître.    À lire :  Bernard Cerquiglini, auteur de L'invention de Nithard aux éditions de Minuit.  Invitée :  Gabriella Parussa, spécialiste de l'histoire de la langue française, est professeure de linguistique et philologie à la Faculté des Lettres – Sorbonne Université. Ses travaux portent sur le code écrit et son histoire des origines à nos jours. Son ouvrage «Écrire le français, toute une histoire» est publié aux éditions Actes Sud.  Dans la chronique Ailleurs, nous parlerons du Festival Beyrouth Livres qui aura lieu dans la capitale libanaise, du 22 au 26 octobre 2025. Et c'est Sarra Ghorbal, attachée pour le livre et le débat d'idées et co-commissaire générale du festival Beyrouth livres qui nous parle de l'évènement.  Programmation musicale : Le collectif musical Lamomali avec le titre Totem.

Dans son ouvrage «Écrire le français», Gabriella Parussa retrace l'histoire de l'écrit de la langue française, et son évolution.  Comment le français est-il devenu une langue écrite ?  Le français fut tout d'abord une langue orale, une langue parlée, une langue de la communication, alors que la langue écrite, celle de la culture, de la justice, de l'administration, était le latin.   Le français a beaucoup évolué, tant au niveau de la phonétique qu'au niveau de la syntaxe et la morphologie.  Les premiers textes (rarissimes) écrits en français remontent à la deuxième partie du IXè siècle. C'est l'alphabet latin qui est utilisé pour «transférer» cette langue de l'oral à l'écrit, mais Il faut faire des ajustements, car l'alphabet latin n'est pas parfait et ne permet pas de restituer tous les sons… Il y a alors vingt-trois lettres dans l'alphabet latin.  Le passage à l'écrit s'est fait avec la volonté de conserver la mémoire. Les premiers «livres» s'écrivaient grâce à des copistes ; cela pouvait prendre des mois.  L'écriture : comme une «peinture de la voix»  En 842, les petits-fils de Charlemagne signent une alliance militaire : les serments de Strasbourg, Nithard écrit alors en ce qu'on appelle «le proto français» : un mélange entre le latin tardif et le français. C'est l'un des premiers textes conservés avec des traces de français écrit. «C'est une étape importante, on écrit dans les deux langues vernaculaires de l'époque».  Ils écrivent cette nouvelle langue en «écoutant». «On dira que l'écriture doit être comme une peinture de la voix, doit correspondre à ce que l'on dit, ce qu'on prononce».  Le français est alors très mouvant : on ne parle pas et on n'écrit pas de la même manière selon qu'on habite Arras ou Lyon. Mais les choses vont se fixer avec l'invention de l'imprimerie puis des premières grammaires écrites. Les variations vont alors s'estomper peu à peu. Les imprimeurs vont alors jouer un rôle très important dans la standardisation pour que le livre qu'ils diffusent soit lu et compris et plus grand nombre. Les graphies régionales vont alors peu à peu disparaître.    À lire :  Bernard Cerquiglini, auteur de L'invention de Nithard aux éditions de Minuit.  Invitée :  Gabriella Parussa, spécialiste de l'histoire de la langue française, est professeure de linguistique et philologie à la Faculté des Lettres – Sorbonne Université. Ses travaux portent sur le code écrit et son histoire des origines à nos jours. Son ouvrage «Écrire le français, toute une histoire» est publié aux éditions Actes Sud.  Dans la chronique Ailleurs, nous parlerons du Festival Beyrouth Livres qui aura lieu dans la capitale libanaise, du 22 au 26 octobre 2025. Et c'est Sarra Ghorbal, attachée pour le livre et le débat d'idées et co-commissaire générale du festival Beyrouth livres qui nous parle de l'évènement.  Programmation musicale : Le collectif musical Lamomali avec le titre Totem.

Daniel just returned from Cave Fest at The Caverns, which brings us to talking a lot about some of our other local venues.  Could The Caverns eventually host a larger festival?  Is the sound finally better at The Mars?  Did Evan Bonnaroo meet Future Evan at St. Stephens?  Is Sharla going to clog on the show?  We answer these questions and much more, and also talk about the opening of our TOTEM scholarship for the upcoming year!Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Nouveauté pour la rentrée : Le E-carnet "Devenir un Artisan Hôtelier" est disponible pour seulement 39 € !1️⃣ Présentation de l'invité : L'industrie hôtelière est souvent perçue comme un monde de service et d'accueil, où le glamour des grands hôtels côtoie l'exigence d'un service impeccable. Pourtant, derrière cette façade se cache parfois une réalité moins reluisante : celle des Violences Sexistes et Sexuelles (VSS). Maud Descamps est une professionnelle de l'hôtellerie avec une riche expérience dans la formation et la qualité de service. Après avoir travaillé dans de grands groupes hôteliers, elle a créé Départ Égal pour se consacrer à la formation des professionnels du secteur, avec une attention particulière portée sur la prévention des VSS. 2️⃣ Notes et références : Caroline de Haas vidéo BRUT : Les bons mots pour définir les violences sexistes et sexuelles ; Jennifer Marand de GMH formation ; Podcast Les Couilles Sur La Table - Cauchemar en cuisine ; Podcast Programme B - Le monde de la cuisine a-t-il raté son #MeToo ? ; Collectif Nous Toutes ; Reverto ; Série Arte H24 ; Écoles Vatel / EDHEC / ICN ; 56 - Créer Okko Hotels, avec Solenne Ojea-Devys ; 38 - Comment accueillir la clientèle féminine dans les hôtels ? Avec Valérie Hoffenberg ; Les livres de la collection Totem chez Gallmeister. 3️⃣ Pour contacter l'invité : LinkedIn Site web de Départ Égal 4️⃣ Le partenaire de l'épisode : Influence Society Influence Society Prendre un rendez-vous avec le fondateur Sébastien Felix En venant de la part d'Hospitality Insiders, vous bénéficiez de 45 minutes en tête-à-tête avec Sébastien Felix pour repenser votre stratégie digitale et parler d'Intelligence Artificielle.Si cet épisode vous a passionné, rejoignez-moi sur :L'Hebdo d'Hospitality Insiders, pour ne rien raterL'Académie Hospitality Insiders, pour vous former aux fondamentaux de l'accueilLe E-Carnet "Devenir un Artisan Hôtelier" pour celles et ceux qui souhaitent faire de l'accueil un véritable artLinkedin, pour poursuivre la discussionInstagram, pour découvrir les coulissesLa bibliothèque des invités du podcastMerci de votre fidélité et à bientôt !Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.

durée : 00:58:16 - Cultures Monde - par : Mélanie Chalandon, Julie Gacon - Quasi décimée par la chasse industrielle, la baleine est devenue l'emblème de la protection des océans. Totem des ONG, ce mammifère marin se retrouve au cœur d'une bataille culturelle sur la manière de considérer les animaux sauvages. - réalisation : Vivian Lecuivre - invités : Vincent Ridoux Biologiste, professeur d'écologie à l'Université de La Rochelle, chercheur à l'observatoire Pelagis et responsable scientifique de la délégation française à la Commission Baleinière Internationale; Fabien Clouette Anthropologue, chargé de recherches au CNRS et spécialiste des terrains maritimes; Quoc-Thanh Nguyen Chercheuse associée à l'Institut d'Asie Orientale (IAO)

Brooklin returns this week as her and Daniel are out in the bus to go over their Hulaween schedules!  We catch up with what all she's been up to and talk about our plans down in Florida.  Sharla also crashes towards the end, where we'll talk about news about Roo's 2026 lineup and talk about some of our favorite horror movies.Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

(2:00) Sounds like Norvell, players embracing intensity, emotions of rivalry clash(8:00) Hot seat talk to resume if FSU loses to Miami?(22:00) Will FSU be able to exact proper revenge on Miami in the playoff era?(37:00) Totem pole of ACC QBs(46:00) Keys to victory(48:00) Over/under(54:00) FSU dominates TV ratingsMusic: Taking Back Sunday - Miamivitaminenergy.com | PROMO: warchantbogo | buy one, get one free!Get 10% off TUSHY with the code WARCHANT at https://hellotushy.com/WARCHANT  Download the  Underdog app today and sign up with promo code WARCHANT to score fifty dollars in Bonus Funds when you play your first five dollars. Must be 18+ (19+ in Alabama & Nebraska; 19+ in Colorado for some games; 21+ in Arizona, Massachusetts & Virginia) and present in a state where Underdog Fantasy operates. Terms apply. See assets.underdogfantasy.com/web/PlayandGetTerms_DFS_.html for details. Offer not valid in Maryland, Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. Concerned with your play? Call 1-800-GAMBLER or visit www.ncpgambling.org. In New York, call the 24/7 HOPEline at 1-877-8-HOPENY or Text HOPENY (467369) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

(2:00) Sounds like Norvell, players embracing intensity, emotions of rivalry clash(8:00) Hot seat talk to resume if FSU loses to Miami?(22:00) Will FSU be able to exact proper revenge on Miami in the playoff era?(37:00) Totem pole of ACC QBs(46:00) Keys to victory(48:00) Over/under(54:00) FSU dominates TV ratingsMusic: Taking Back Sunday - Miamivitaminenergy.com | PROMO: warchantbogo | buy one, get one free!Get 10% off TUSHY with the code WARCHANT at https://hellotushy.com/WARCHANT  Download the  Underdog app today and sign up with promo code WARCHANT to score fifty dollars in Bonus Funds when you play your first five dollars. Must be 18+ (19+ in Alabama & Nebraska; 19+ in Colorado for some games; 21+ in Arizona, Massachusetts & Virginia) and present in a state where Underdog Fantasy operates. Terms apply. See assets.underdogfantasy.com/web/PlayandGetTerms_DFS_.html for details. Offer not valid in Maryland, Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania. Concerned with your play? Call 1-800-GAMBLER or visit www.ncpgambling.org. In New York, call the 24/7 HOPEline at 1-877-8-HOPENY or Text HOPENY (467369) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

We had a lot of friends at both Shaky Knees and Riot Fest in recent weeks, and we've got a big crew on to report back from them!  Sharla and Daniel are also on the back porch to talk about some of our other favorite city fests, and also a ton of cats make cameos at the end.Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Original Air Date: March 11, 1952Host: Andrew RhynesShow: Challenge of the YukonPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Paul Sutton (Sgt. Preston) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Director:• Fred Flowerday Exit music from: Roundup on the Prairie by Aaron Kenny https://bit.ly/3kTj0kK

Original Air Date: March 11, 1952Host: Andrew RhynesShow: Challenge of the YukonPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Paul Sutton (Sgt. Preston) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Director:• Fred Flowerday Exit music from: Roundup on the Prairie by Aaron Kenny https://bit.ly/3kTj0kK

Sharla and Daniel are taking a chill episode with a drink in the backyard this week while everyone else is gone to Riot Fest and Shaky Knees!  We're talking about the Saxsquatch and Blink 182 shows in Huntsville, how we feel about 2025 now that we're three months removed, look ahead to what 2026 is going to look like, and have a few weekly picks as well!Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Original Air Date: March 06, 1952Host: Andrew RhynesShow: Challenge of the YukonPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Paul Sutton (Sgt. Preston) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Director:• Fred Flowerday Exit music from: Roundup on the Prairie by Aaron Kenny https://bit.ly/3kTj0kK

One of the reasons Charlie Kirk was considered "divisive" was that he spoke out against the civil rights laws, which was interpreted as his supporting Jim Crow segregation. Yet, these laws did not increase liberty but rather imposed a new progressive vision on Americans.Original article: https://mises.org/mises-wire/charlie-kirk-and-sacred-totem-civil-rights

One of the reasons Charlie Kirk was considered "divisive" was that he spoke out against the civil rights laws, which was interpreted as his supporting Jim Crow segregation. Yet, these laws did not increase liberty but rather imposed a new progressive vision on Americans.Original article: https://mises.org/mises-wire/charlie-kirk-and-sacred-totem-civil-rights

Original Air Date: March 06, 1952Host: Andrew RhynesShow: Challenge of the YukonPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Paul Sutton (Sgt. Preston) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Director:• Fred Flowerday Exit music from: Roundup on the Prairie by Aaron Kenny https://bit.ly/3kTj0kK

Aujourd'hui, Fatima Aït Bounoua, prof de français, Antoine Diers, consultant auprès des entreprises, et Bruno Poncet, cheminot, débattent de l'actualité autour d'Alain Marschall et Olivier Truchot.

Sharla has come up with the most insane game to play inside the bus this week, we're playing the "Hear Me Out Cake" game by picking the most outside the box acts we can think of to play Bonnaroo 2026.  We've also got Andrew back on this week to talk about what goes into keeping track of everything on the /r/Bonnaroo confirmation thread, as well as take a look at who is very possibly on the lineup next year.Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Ce vendredi 12 septembre, la campagne médiatique menée par Gabriel Zucman pour défendre sa taxe sur les hauts patrimoines a été abordée par Aurélien Colson, co-directeur académique de l'Institut Géopolitique & Business de l'ESSEC, Laurent Vronski, directeur général d'Ervor, Patrick Artus, économiste et conseiller économique de la société de gestion Ossiam, dans l'émission Les Experts, présentée par Raphaël Legendre sur BFM Business. Retrouvez l'émission du lundi au vendredi et réécoutez la en podcast.

5 part series combining the following episodes:• Thunderbird (03-04-1952)• The Land Otter's Totem (03-06-1952)• The Burial Totem Case (03-11-1952)• The Killer Whale (03-13-1952)• The Sun and Raven (03-18-1952) Host: Andrew RhynesShow: Challenge of the YukonPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Paul Sutton (Sgt. Preston) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Director:• Fred Flowerday Exit...

5 part series combining the following episodes:• Thunderbird (03-04-1952)• The Land Otter's Totem (03-06-1952)• The Burial Totem Case (03-11-1952)• The Killer Whale (03-13-1952)• The Sun and Raven (03-18-1952) Host: Andrew RhynesShow: Challenge of the YukonPhone: (707) 98 OTRDW (6-8739) Stars:• Paul Sutton (Sgt. Preston) Writer:• Fran Striker Producer:• George W. Trendle Director:• Fred Flowerday Exit...

Sharla and Daniel are back in the bus this week, and we've got a ton to cover!  We're talking the new Tame Impala and Sabrina Carpenter albums, Cherub's tour for their new album, and we've also got Chelsea and Matty on to get Daniel prepped for Hula!Support the showProceeds from Story Time at the Roo Bus support The TOTEM Foundation, a 501(c)(3) non-profit dedicated to supporting underserved individuals through music communities. Donate below, or support TOTEM monthly by becoming a Patreon of the show.

Matt Farah and Zack Klapman tell of their drive in the incredible, carbon-fiber-constructed piece of unobtanium that is the Totem SuperGT. It's an homage to the legendary Alfa GTV/A cars. Does it do the original justice? Is it overpriced?Plus, Chrysler might make an off-road minivan.Patreon questions include:Should my teenager get a Miata or an EV?Have we hit peak "reimagine"?You're CEO of Porsche for a day: what would you change?What is the ultimate commuter car?Can I put a Transformers sticker on my car?Top 3 ultra-light carsWhy tires squeal on some freewaysWhat to do after my luxury SUV finally diesManual swap dream listWill the new Taycan depreciate less than the older ones?And more!Recorded August 25, 2025 Show Notes:DeleteMeGet 20% off your DeleteMe plan when you go to https://www.joindeleteme.com/TIRE and use promo code TIRE at checkout. HelloFresh Go to HelloFresh.com/smokingtire10fm now to Get 10 Free Meals + a Free Item for Life! One per box with active subscription. Free meals applied as discount on first box, new subscribers only, varies by plan.  MudWtrStart your new morning ritual & get up to 43% off your @MUDWTR with code tire at  mudwtr.com/tire! #mudwtrpod New merch! Grab a shirt or hoodie and support us! https://thesmokingtireshop.com/ Use Off The Record! and ALWAYS fight your tickets! For a 10% discount on your first case go to https://www.offtherecord.com/TST Want your question answered? Want to watch the live stream, get ad-free podcasts, or exclusive podcasts? Join our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/thesmokingtirepodcast Instagram:https://www.Instagram.com/thesmokingtirehttps://www.Instagram.com/therealzackklapman  Want your question answered? Want to watch the live stream, get ad-free podcasts, or exclusive podcasts? Join our Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/thesmokingtirepodcast Use Off The Record! and ALWAYS fight your tickets! Enter code TST10 for a 10% discount on your first case on the Off The Record app, or go to http://www.offtherecord.com/TST. Watch our car reviews: https://www.youtube.com/thesmokingtire Tweet at us!https://www.Twitter.com/thesmokingtirehttps://www.Twitter.com/zackklapman Instagram:https://www.Instagram.com/thesmokingtirehttps://www.Instagram.com/therealzackklapman

Well, well, well...look what we have here! A sweet treat wrapped up in a bonus episode of The Skeptical Shaman podcast featuring none other than the final boss of neurodivergence himself: Scott Horton!Scott is the Director of the Libertarian Institute, Editorial Director of Antiwar.com, and the host of the Scott Horton Show.  He's the author of the 2024 book Provoked: How Washington Started the New Cold War With Russia and the Catastrophe in Ukraine; the 2021 book Enough Already: Time to End the War on Terrorism; the 2017 book, Fool's Errand:Time to End the War in Afghanistan;  and was the editor of the 2019 book The Great Ron Paul: The Scott Horton Show Interviews 2004–2019 and the 2022 book Hotter Than the Sun: Time to Abolish Nuclear Weapons.And I know what you're thinking: "Rachel...I thought you said you didn't want to make your work at TOTEM or on The Skeptical Shaman podcast political? So, like, what is this bullshi*t?"The answer is that it's not political, at least not for host Rachel White (Owner of TOTEM Readings). Rather, we wanted to engage Scott, who has recently been featured on Pierce Morgan, Breaking Points and the Tucker Carlson Show, to help us break out of our collective propaganda spell by sharing the tips, tricks and tools (as well as tidbits of researched, footnoted facts) he's picked up from doing more than 6,000 interviews and debates, all while not having a f*cking team.Yep, that's right. Scott Horton is the "Libertarian's Libertarian", rejecting the binary "uniparty" of United States' politics to, instead, be critical-- and skeptical-- of both. This, in turn, has given Scott a unique-- and very shamanic-- perspective, removing the burden of thought-terminating cliches and thought reform regimes to free him to think and speak for himself. The results might be a bit abrasive, or even trigger you depending on where you fall in the political spectrum. But, having spent time with and corresponded with Scott over the last two years, Rachel can assert one thing for certain: Scott is kind, human, open-minded, funny, and a very good hang. And here's the best part: he's not trying to persuade you over to his side, because he doesn't have a side.In this episode, we chat about Scott's anti-war advocacy over the years, how Austin, TX has changed since Dazed and Confused, and how he's trying to contribute to the collective dialogue by just being honest (and insanely researched) about what he really, actually thinks. Now, you don't have to be a Libertarian or right of center or even anti-war to take something away from this extra-long dialogue that explores the archetype of Prometheus appearing in our New Age-- and what that means for tyranny (spoiler alert: tyranny's f*cked!). You're a human with agency, and this "story" isn't over yet. Nihilism is just another way to let the real bad guys win, so choose the opposite: stand up tall, speak your mind, and extend a hand to someone that thinks or feels differently from you. The more we converse and team up, the harder it will be to defeat us as a species!Besides: you might find a very pleasant surprise just on the other side. (And make sure you read our little disclaimer below before listening to this episode. If you don't think it's for you, don't listen.)Please note: The views and opinions expressed on The Skeptical Shaman do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the podcast. Any content provided by our guests, bloggers, sponsors or authors are of their opinion and are not intended to malign any religion, protected class, group, club, organization, business individual, anyone or anything. And remember: sticks and stones may break our bones, but words—or discussions of religious or spiritual topics-- will never hurt us.