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Here at Killer Fun we treated ourselves to a game - Death at Area 51 - and today we have our VERY LONG, spoiler-full episode. Email us: KillerFunPodcast@gmail.comFollow us on Facebook: fb.me/KillerFunPodcastAll the Tweets, er, POSTS: https://x.com/KillerFunPodInstagram: killerfunpodcast

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals! In the final PSVG of the year, the many shows collide in one VERY LONG podcast recapping the year of 2025. We discuss our favorite games, the stories that were, and look ahead at 2026. But not before the show completely devolves into the current RAM situation and our distaste for the AI direction of the world.Merry Xmas Everyone. Thank you so much for putting up with us.

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

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

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

A soldier wrote his dad from a combat zone in a war-torn country. In the upper left hand corner under his name he wrote, “Not Here for Very Long.” True of the soldier - true of each of us. Life at its longest is very short in light of eternity. Wisely Moses advised us to go to God and ask him to: “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Time has no favorites. We are each given 24 hours a day, seven days a week and 52 weeks a year. It does...Article Link

And we're back after a VERY LONG break! Look out for more episodes in the next few weeks and please comment to let me know if there are any topics you're especially interested in. Thanks for listening! God bless you!

John Capobianco, a Conservative Bigshot, joins Stephen LeDrew to discuss the future of Canada under Pierre Poilievre's leadership. With four consecutive election losses, how can Poilievre revitalize his party and take it forward? John talks about the importance of a strong, united Canada and the steps the Conservative Party should take to address key issues like economic growth, trade, and provincial cooperation. As M.P.'s take their VERY LONG summer break, John discusses the need for a more active and accountable Parliament, where debates on Canada's future are crucial. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

How long has God been used to celebrating His Feast Days?  For a VERY Long time!  And He is preparing all of us for His next Feast Day by hearkening back to yet another example of His Feast Days in history, that not many of us or maybe none of us can recall!  Join me today to listen to His latest example that He was there to witness Himself and wants to share with all of us! If you are blessed by today's Bible study, please support my channel by liking, subscribing, commenting, and sharing with your friends and family!  I am not a Pastor, and agree with God's word that women are not supposed to be Pastors.  However, It is perfectly acceptable and Biblical for women to lead Bibles studies outside the church, and especially if it is a viable avenue for study of the Word on a daily basis, paving the way for all of us to be closer to the Lord and become more knowledgeable of the Bible. If you care to contribute to my work with the Daily Bible study and sharing the Gospel, as part of your tithes and offerings, you can do so through PayPal by sending it to my PayPal address of: ReneHoladay@gmail.com  Thank you all for watching and God Bless you all! ;() --------------------- The primary study bible that Rene' uses is the 'Spirit-filled Life Bible, by Jack Hayford, and is available in hard cover or faux leather on Amazon at:  https://amzn.to/434fBnQ You can watch this episode on Youtube at:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2v9ekffu7ds Please be sure to LIKE, SUBSCRIBE, COMMENT, and SHARE!

The Fat One returns with a VERY SHORT recap of his day and several VERY LONG voiceletters before answering some VERY So-So questions. Happy National Cheese Doodle Day.

GOOD NEEEEEEEEWS! She's DEEEAADDD!! ...well she may be dead, but Elle and Brady are VERY much alive and simply cannot stop yapping about one of the most thrillifying musicals of all time! With the release of the brand new movie coinciding with our episode release, we simply couldn't pass up this opportunity to pay homage to the source material. So pop into your floating bubble, skip down the yellow brick road, or hop on to your flying broomstick, because it's time to get ozmopolitan! We absolutely cannot wait for you to listen to this newest episode of the most swankified pod in town. We guarantee that after joining us on this (admittedly VERY LONG - sorry bout that) journey, you will be changed FOR GOOD. With so much love and gratitution, xoxo E&B

Neebs hasn't been excited like this in a VERY LONG time. Thank you to our Sponsors! Go to http://factormeals.com/neebs50 and use code neebs50 to get 50% off your first box and 20% off your next month. & Go to http://liquidiv.com and use code NEEBS at checkout to get 20% off your first order. & Go to http://turtlebeach.com/neebs and use code NEEBS to get 10% off your entire order. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textThis week on the Get More Smarter Podcast, it's the Special Session Special Episode Special! We break down the politics and a little bit of the policy from this very special session that was called to avoid an absolute fiscal calamity because of something like three schmucks and a checkbook. Also, one of the undisputed champions of legislative nuttery goes totally off the rails as one Republican Politician uses her social media account to go after one of her own kids' teachers - yikes. Then we catch up on the VERY LONG list of ballot measures Colorado voters will be weighing in on in just a few weeks here; and we discuss a friend of the show's courageous public struggle with mental health. But first we check in on the Two Colorado Republican Parties that apparently currently exist and we'll let you know if white or black smoke appears from somewhere in Greenwood Village. 

The show begins with a quick recap of Todd's trip to AZ, including a deep dive into the Flagstaff airport. We then start a VERY LONG conversation (10:30) about the population of the largest cities in given states. Todd talks briefly of poker (62:00), it's worth the price of admission. We shut it down with a quick update on the Olympics (66:00) opening ceremonies ane the events we are most looking forward to. Sponsors: ScottyJ's album, Alanis Morrisette, Peacock Scotty Js YouTube Page: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCV3WWSlwDKYf7P5k4XdP3zA IG & Twitter: the_bro_pod, littleBquotes E-mail the show!: thebropodnetwork@gmail.com Buy Merch!!: thebropod.threadless.com Our Website: www.bropodnetwork.com #AZ #Flagstaff #MD #OR #SC #CO #TeenWolf #poker #Olympics #podcasts #bropod #bropodnetwork

This week, tune into the panel discussion Making Up True Stories: Novels and Books About Real People. Our featured writers are Amanda Flower, Sarah James, Brianna Labuskes, and Brianna Madia. Moderated by Dipika Mukherjee. This conversation originally took place May 19, 2024 and was recorded live at the 2024 American Writers Festival. AWM PODCAST NETWORK HOME About the writers: AMANDA FLOWER is the USA Today bestselling and Agatha Award–winning mystery author of over twenty-five novels, including the nationally bestselling Amish Candy Shop Mystery Series, the Amish Matchmaker Mysteries, the Emily Dickinson Mysteries, the Katharine Wright Mysteries, and several series written under the name Isabella Alan. An organic farmer and former librarian, Amanda lives in Northeast Ohio and can be found online at AmandaFlower.com. SARAH JAMES is the international bestselling author of The Woman with Two Shadows and Last Night at the Hollywood Canteen. Her work has appeared in Baseball Prospectus, Pittsburgh City Paper, Reductress, and more. Sarah is a graduate of the MFA Writing for Screen and Television program at USC and currently lives in Los Angeles. BRIANNA LABUSKES is the Washington Post bestselling author of The Lost Book of Bonn, The Librarian of Burned Books as well as eight thrillers. For the first decade of her career, Brianna worked as a journalist for national news organizations covering politics and policy. BRIANNA MADIA has lived a life of relentless intention, traveling the deserts of the American West in an old Ford van. She made a name for herself on social media with her inspiring captions-cum-essays about bravery, identity, nature, and subverting expectations. She lives in Utah with her four dogs. Her first book, Nowhere for Very Long, was a New York Times bestseller. Never Leave the Dogs Behind is her second book. DIPIKA MUKHERJEE'S collection of travel essays, Writer's Postcards (Penguin), was published in October 2023. Her work is included in The Best Small Fictions 2019 and appears in World Literature Today, Asia Literary Review, Del Sol Review, and Chicago Quarterly Review, Newsweek, Los Angeles Review of Books, Hemispheres, Orion and more, and she has been translated into French, Portuguese, Bengali and Mandarin Chinese. She is the author of the novels Shambala Junction (Aurora Metro, winner of the Virginia Prize for Fiction) and Ode to Broken Things (Repeater Books, longlisted for the Man Asia Literary Prize), and the story collection, Rules of Desire (Fixi).

WE ARE BACK BABY! Lot of catching up to do! Get here! Jerome Solomon of the Houston Chronicle joins me to talk about Jacoby Jones Richard Simmons was just fantastic on "Whose Line Is It Anyway" Jenny is Mom joins for her weekly visit catching up with the chat after a VERY LONG time away from the show Centerpointless and much more! SUBSCRIBE ON TWITCH: https://bit.ly/BODTwitch SUBSCRIBE ON YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/barryonsports?sub_confirmation=1 MERCH: https://barryondeck.com/shop ------------------------------------------------------ INSTAGRAM: https://instagram.com/barryondeck TIKTOK: https://tiktok.com/@barryondeck FACEBOOK: https://facebook.com/barryondeck TWITTER: https://twitter.com/barryondeck PATREON: https://patreon.com/barryondeck ------------------------------------------------------ Thanks for watching

This episode originally broadcast on May 16, 2024. The original podcast post is here: https://pixelatedgeek.com/2024/05/binary-system-podcast-410-wtnv-247-rerun/ It's another Travel Edition this week as we brave the wilds of Southeast North America (otherwise known as our parents' place in Bradenton.) First up is a lightning quick recap of Night Vale as Cecil revisits a very strange kids show and correctly answers the daily puzzle. (It's entropy. The answer is always entropy.) After that we also do a quick update on what promises to be a VERY LONG process as we put together the Flametoys Windblade model. ("Easy for beginners?" The hell you say.) This week's outro is a clip from Daily Commute by Brylie Christopher Oxley. The synthwave composer Elizabeth was thinking of is suncity80s. Looking for a present for that hard-to-shop-for person? Want to buy them (or yourself) a square foot of a castle in Scotland? Look no further! You can support the restoration of Dunan's castle, legally call yourself Lady or Laird, AND if you use this link to get there, you can support this podcast too! ScottishLaird.co.uk. For updates, fan art, and other randomness, come follow us on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram!

Never Leave the Dogs Behind: A Memoir by Brianna Madia https://amzn.to/4ajafHp The author of the New York Times bestseller Nowhere for Very Long continues her story with this deeply honest, moving account of a woman walking the line between independence and isolation when she moves to the Southwest desert with nothing and no one but her four dogs. In her debut memoir, Nowhere for Very Long, Brianna Madia reflected on her life as a nomad, free to roam some of the most beautiful land in America. Now, in Never Leave the Dogs Behind, the van life adherent faces the unfathomable darkness that comes from a life blown apart, her only solace the support of her dogs. In the wake of a painful, public divorce and the ensuing fallout, Brianna moves from a pared-down van into a pared-down trailer. She reckons with her decision to be alone in the desert, living on a nine-acre plot of undeveloped land on the dusty outskirts of a small town in Utah, accompanied only by her four precious dogs: Bucket, Dagwood, Birdie, and Banjo. As she grapples with the anger, despair, and delicious freedom that comes from being wholly on her own, Brianna wonders where, exactly, the road less traveled has led her. A powerful and poignant portrait of rebuilding and surviving, Never Leave the Dogs Behind is about finding the courage to start over when the dream life you thought you were living collapses around your feet. About the author Brianna Madia has lived a life of relentless intention, traveling the deserts of the American Southwest in an old Ford van. She made a name for herself on social media with her inspiring captions-cum-essays about bravery, identity, nature, and subverting expectations. She lives in Utah with her four dogs. Nowhere for Very Long is her first book.

www.atravelpath.com   00:00 Introduction 03:30 How to you Balance Teaching with Travel? 04:30 What Sort of Commitments Outside of School do You Have with Teaching? 06:00 What Has Been the Longest Trip You Have Taken While Teaching? 07:00 Where Are You Staying When You Travel? 08:30 What Have Been Your Biggest Struggles to Get on the Road? 10:00 What Are Your Biggest Frustrations While You Travel? 14:00 What do You Love Most About Your Travel Lifestyle? 16:00 What Tips Have You Found Help 9-5ers Travel More? 18:15 Why do You Think People Are So Reluctant to Plan? 21:30 What Are Itinerary Creation Guides? 25:15 Are There Other Careers Where People Have a Long Gap From Work? 26:45 How Can People Save or Make Money for Travel? 29:45 What Has Been Your Coolest Travel Experience? 31:15 What Is One Thing You Can't Live Without While Traveling? 34:00 What Have You Learned You Don't Need While Traveling? 36:00 How Do I Start Planning my Trip? 37:30 How Would Someone Transition to a Career in Teaching? 40:00 Where There Any Influencers that Inspired You to Travel?   Music from #Uppbeat (free for Creators!): https://uppbeat.io/t/abbynoise/rocky-mountains   We had the pleasure of hosting Kati on our show who provided some valuable insight on how to balance a busy teaching and coaching career with travel. In this episode you'll learn all about: ✅A few simple steps to get you started planning your next trip

Join us on "Roaming the Desert" as we delve into the inspiring story of Brianna Madia, author of the New York Times bestseller "Nowhere for Very Long." In her latest memoir, "Never Leave the Dogs Behind," Brianna shares her candid account of transitioning from a life of nomadic freedom to settling down in the Southwest desert with nothing but her four beloved dogs. From living in a van to a trailer on a nine-acre plot of land, Brianna grapples with independence, isolation, and the unfathomable darkness that comes from rebuilding her life. Discover how Brianna finds solace and strength in the companionship of her dogs as she navigates the challenges of starting over. Published by Harper Collins, Brianna's story is a powerful testament to resilience, courage, and the enduring bond between human and canine companions. Listen to this episode for an unforgettable exploration of bravery, identity, and the road less travelled. Purchase "Never Leave The Dogs Behind" on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or any bookstore. You can purchase it on Brianna's site too at www.briannamadia.com ***This episode is brought to you by our sponsor, Happy Being Well. Visit www.happybeingwell.com for wellness products to soothe the mind, from aromatherapy diffusers to natural bath products. Use code Podcast25 for 25% off any leggings, and enjoy free shipping on all orders within the USA. Calm your mind and engage in self-reflection with Happy Being Well. Download a Free Self-Care Journal with journal prompts to get to know yourself better from Happy Being Well at https://happybeingwell.com/collections/resources/products/self-care-journal Take our free wellness quiz to discover your zen here: https://happybeingwell.com/collections/take-our-wellness-quiz-to-discover-your-zen/products/take-our-wellness-quiz-to-discover-your-zen Get a Free Essential Oils Guide Here: https://happybeingwell.com/collections/resources/products/essential-oils-guide Download more free wellness e-books in our Resources section here: https://happybeingwell.com/collections/resources (banish limiting beliefs e-book, banish imposter syndrome, plant-based recipes, essential oils guide and more by clicking the link above)

The ladies of The Hey Girl Hey Podcast is back from a VERY LONG break!In this episode, we discussed:What we've been up toNew things we're doing in 2024What stories or life events got us SHOOKPlus, we discuss the #meangirlsyndrome and how it's effecting our friendships and our kids.

The ladies of The Hey Girl Hey Podcast is back from a VERY LONG break! In this episode, we discussed: What we've been up toNew things we're doing in 2024What stories or life events got us SHOOK! Plus, we discuss the #meangirlsyndrome and how it's effecting our friendships and our kids.

Have you ever wished you could lick the brain of a 7-figure CEO and get their superpowers through osmosis? On this week's podcast, Nicole is interviewing Eleanor Beaton, owner of SafiMedia. Eleanor has been a badass coach since 2003 - which in coaching land is a VERY LONG time. Especially since she is a seven-figure CEO who has produced MULTIPLE back-to-back 7-figure CEOs along her journey. The secret to her massive momentum is that Eleanor doesn't see problems as PROBLEMS. Her unique viewpoint has helped her to understand why people who put their problems on a pedestal have trouble LEVELING TF UP and getting to where they want to go.Now she's sharing her solutions to help you shift your mindset around challenges and start creating more MF opportunities. Want to spend 50 minutes sandwiched between TWO 7-figure earners? YES, PLEASE! Then tune in NOW because you're gonna want to soak up all of this next-level frequency.  Want to connect with Eleanor and start “selling your story”? Visit her website here.For even more money making strategies, hop on over to the Facebook group! Ready to attract unicorn clients!? Book a call with the Wonder Team!And as always, for more trouble go to Real Unicorns Don't Wear Pants!

The show starts off with a VERY LONG discussion of Buc-ees, enjoy. We discuss another death in the entertainment industry (27:00)...or two. The question of 'Who is the most famous person alive?' (39:00) is posed and discussed. We talk about tattoos and why we don't have them (62:00) and then close it out with some #foodchat and Halloween discussions. Sponsors: ScottyJ's album, Buc-ees, Mars candies The Bro Pod YouTube Page: https://www.youtube.com/@the_bro_pod Scotty Js YouTube Page: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCV3WWSlwDKYf7P5k4XdP3zA IG & Twitter: the_bro_pod, littleBquotes E-mail the show!: thebropodnetwork@gmail.com Buy Merch!!: thebropod.threadless.com Our Website: www.bropodnetwork.com #Buc-ees #Bojangles #NFL #Smashmouth #JimmyBuffet #famouspeople #TravisBarker #Instagram #tattoos #foodchat #Halloween #podcasts #bropod #bropodnetwork

This weekend, Dean and Phil recorded one VERY LONG conversation that will be edited into the next two installments of YOUR Chillpak Hollywood Hour. The next time they record, they will be together in Dean's Motor City-adjacent stomping grounds! This week, you will hear your friends in broadcasting and podcasting discussing the new cinematic releases […]

Original Air Date: Monday 14 August, 9 pm Eastern Description: This weekend, Dean and Phil recorded one VERY LONG conversation that will be edited into the next two installments of YOUR Chillpak Hollywood Hour. The next time they record, they will be together in Dean's Motor City-adjacent stomping grounds! This week, you will hear your friends in broadcasting and podcasting discussing the new cinematic releases Medusa Deluxe, Afire and Barbie as well as a new Taiwanese film on Netflix (Marry My Dead Body). You will hear the latest developments in the negotiations between the writers and the media companies (and yes, there HAVE BEEN negotiations!). You will hear another in Dean's suggestions of vintage television shows you might wish to binge while your favorite new shows will be gone for a while. There is an email with a correction from a loyal listener that itself gets corrected! And because everyone loves a sequel, Dean and Phil follow upon last week's all-music edition of "Celebrity Deaths" with another all-music edition, as they discuss the lives and legacies of many music notables that died over the past weeks.

CRAZY long endurance IS POSSIBLE with a minimal amount of carbs

Dear Friend,To celebrate 20 episodes of LFTR we're bringing you something a little different: book club! We talk all about what we've been reading and what we liked and didn't like. Plus an exciting life update for the Schumacher family! Books we talk about include:* The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah* Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr * The Great Night by Chris Adrian* Nowhere for Very Long by Brianna Madia* Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaoauad * Tress of the Emerald Sea by Brandon Sanderson* Wayward by Alice Greczyn* Lessons in Chemistry by Bonnie Garmus * I'm Glad my Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy* Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder* All the Gold Stars by Rainesford Stauffer* The Adventure Zone by The McElroys and Carey Pietsch* The Bruce Swap by Ryan T. HigginsMake sure you send us some reviews for the next round of book club, episode 40! See you down the road,Jamie Get full access to Letters From the Road at lettersfromtheroad.substack.com/subscribe

This week a very special VERY LONG episode of the podcast featuring guest host Mikhael Tara Garver, Head of Culture House Immersive and Director of Immersive Experience for the Star Wars: Galactic Starcruiser who is here to interview myself, Kathryn Yu, Graham Wetterhahn, Jessica Creane, and Nick Fortugno my shipmates for the absolutely incredible surprise trip to Walt Disney World in Orlando to head aboard the Galactic Starcruiser that Graham and Kathryn organized for us, and that a whole lot of people contributed to.The conversation that follows dips between talking about our characters to inside baseball stuff about immersive and back again. It is deeply nerdy in every sense of the word. It's also unlike anything we've done before. SHOW NOTESCALL SHEET JULY 2023My Star Wars SagaWaking Up With The ForceRegarding RoseOur coverage of the Starcruiser is brought to you by Agile Lens, bringing XR and theatre together for over a decade, and After Hours Theatre Company, producers of the Los Angeles Immersive Invitational, with additional support from listeners like you.  Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

It's time! NASCAR heads back to music city for the third-ever NASCAR Cup Series race at Nashville Superspeedway. After a VERY LONG week off, Rowdy Dragon is back to give you the tips, advice, and info you need to crush it from a fantasy, DFS, or sportsbook betting standpoint this weekend. Enjoy the show, and best of luck this weekend bettors!

Finally, we get to the finale plus the VERY LONG reunion where we can hear Stefanie laughing in the audience. (She was there!) Which couples stay together? Who's still single? Does Zack ever stop talking? Find out all the answers to this and MORE...so we can all move on from this season!Also, check out Microdose.com/rosepricks for 30 percent off and free shipping for all your pot microdose (or larger!) needs. Sativa, Indica and Hybrid strains...amazing for anxiety, depression and overall wellbeing. Again mention Rosepricks for 30 percent off!This show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/5779987/advertisement

In this episode of Fic Clique, your hosts discuss "Restitutio ad integrum," by AirgiodSLV (Locked Tomb) @12:26, "Life is Very Long," by Vamillepudding (Untamed) @38:21, and "A Cornstalk Fiddle," by notbecauseofvictories (Devil Went Down to Georgia) @1:00:34.  Your hosts debated starting drama with each other this episode, but instead decided it would be better to discuss humor in dramatic irony, music as a source of soulfulness, and the cruellest thing Nic has ever said to Reid. 

Trigger Warning: Today we're talking about online bullying and people who've had thoughts of suicide or been told to commit suicide by other people online. If you would like to skip this part of the episode you can start at minute 12:35.Today's podcast is more of a personal one that includes conversations I've been having with friends IRL. In this episode we discuss:Anonymous online bullies and trolls AND real-life consequences The trend of accountability in social mediaHow to find your personal styleWhy authenticity matters The comfort of recycled trends (including tattoos)Links:Brianna Madia InstagramNowhere for Very Long by Brianna MadiaBrianna Madia YouTube Video StoryFree: Dream Team Starter KitMy website: www.juliecalcote.comNo Sweat SOPsInstagram: juliecalcoteobmTikTok: @juliecalcoteSign Up for ClickUpJoin Brandi Mowles in Serve, Scale Soar

On this VERY LONG episode of the Zeke Said So Show, Zeke The Geek talks about the following: MOVIE NEWS RUNDOWN: Jenna Ortega Could be Cast in Beetlejuice 2 Cult Favorite "The Room" is being remade with Bob Odenkirk Final Super Mario Bros. Trailer has hit the web Oscar viewership went up by 12% Weekend Box Office 03/10-03/12 Smile Sequel is in the Works MAIN TOPICS: - The 2023 Oscar Results - The Little Mermaid Drops a Nostalgia Filled Trailer - Dwayne Johnson Breaks Silence on Henry Cavill's Superman - Quentin Tarantino's Final Movie Revealed - James Gunn is Directing Superman: Legacy - Top 10 Favorite Animated Movies - Review: The Last of Us Series Review Shazam: Fury of the Gods (No-Spoilers) Review The Mandalorian Season 3 Episode 3 Review Q&A: How did you feel about the overall Academy Awards Ceremony? What are some Disney Live Action Remakes you would like to see? Will you ever bring on a co-host for any of the podcast shows? Who do you believe was snubbed at this year's Oscars? What makes you more excited: DC's slate or Marvel's slate? GO SUPPORT MY NEW MOVIE: WHAT TO WATCH A LOVE LETTER TO PHYSICAL MEDIA If you want to send in a question to the Zeke Said So Show, send them in through Instagram and the Zeke Said So website. Subscribe To The YouTube Channel: Zeke Said So Pictures Zeke Said So Website: https://zekesaidso.wordpress.com/ My profile on Letterboxd https://boxd.it/54hXX Follow On Twitter: @ZekeSaidSo Follow on Instagram: @zeke_said_so --- Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/zeke-said-so/support

This is a verse by verse study of the life of Samuel. This podcast covers covers 1 Samuel 15:1-11. In this pivotal chapter, Saul is given "another chance" to redeem himself and in typical Saul fashion he blows it. This is a VERY LONG chapter so this Part 2.

This is a verse by verse study of the life of Samuel. This podcast covers covers 1 Samuel 15:1-11. In this pivotal chapter, Saul is given "another chance" to redeem himself and in typical Saul fashion he blows it. This is a VERY LONG chapter so this Part 1.

Welcome to Illinois REALTORS® Weekly. This podcast will be in your feeds every Tuesday to keep you up to date on all the latest news in the REALTOR® world. On this week's episode, we're bringing you the presentation by IDFPR's Division of Real Estate Director Laurie Murphy that was a part of our PACKED Broker Engagement Forum at the 2022 Fall Business Meetings. In this session Laurie gives us an update on licenses in the state, how crypto currency is becoming more commonplace in real estate transactions and the emergences of VERY LONG listing agreements throughout the country.

Welcome to Current Talk Podcast! Hosted By Cameryn Hodges and Faithe Metellus Its been a Very LONG while, but we are finally back! In today's episode, we catching you all up with everything that has happened since we last recorded. We have lots of updates to share. We will talking about anything from recapping our junior year of college to starting our senior year, applying to Grad School and more other exciting things that are in the works! Hope you enjoy the episode! New Episodes every Friday! Send us topic ideas to @currenttalkpodcast on Instagram Current Talk Podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/currenttalkpodcast/ Current Talk Podcast Twitter: https://mobile.twitter.com/currenttalkpod?s=21 Current Talk Podcast YouTube Channel: https://youtube.com/channel/UC4yfU5R3DWsPkQOu8ArKuZQ Co-Host: Cameryn Hodges Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cameryn.hodges/ Co-Host: Faithe Metellus Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jedimaster0000/ --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/current-talk/support

After a VERY LONG hiatus (please forgive us) we're officially back with season FOUR of Talking Dogs with Team Dogist! In this episode we talk about our summers, traveling with (and without) your dogs, and Elias' loneliness without Elsa. 

This week things get rough as Branden, Red and Adam from The Internet is a Toilet go through some songs about parenting. Can an extremely whiny metal song about a pussy too scared to kill himself beat a VERY LONG song about child rape by an imaginary parent? Just a warning there is way more crying in this episode than you would expect. Holy shit these guys are serious fucking pussies. Anyway you get to decide between: Beartooth: Sick and Disgusting vs Korn: Daddy

Special Monday drop! The boys review the new HYROX movie and discuss where the next HYROX world championship will be. Ben confesses his love for Hunter again, Tom shares his geography knowledge; and Max announces something VERY LONG >>> https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/schlummiMusic Credits:https://uppbeat.io/t/mood-maze/trendsetterLicense code: ZADHRBZF8YOZJDE4

So I was walking up the escalator here at Pittsford Plaza and my friend dropped her purse at the top.   This nice man picks it up.   We start chatting and then I realized - hey, it's Mike Fanto!  I had him on Bagels and Blessings a VERY LONG time ago.  This was no coincidence!  I set up an interview -- and the rest, as they say, is history!!!Here's a bit about Mike:Mike grew up in Long Island to a Jewish mother and an Italian father.   He was a typical rebellious teenager and didn't really think about God very much.  His sister came to know the Lord first, and he followed, after a supernatural experience when he was hitchhiking.  He was picked up by a Jewish believer who met with him several times and explained many things in the Bible and pointed him to the prophecies.  He accepted Yeshua into his heart and his life has never been the same. 

Its been a VERY LONG time since the last time The Pinckneys have spoken. No worries though! Cuz THEY BACK! Today Eric and Holly Pinckney give illustrations of what ACTIVE faith looks like through their own experiences. Holly gots her a Garden that has God has shown her many things...Eric has a Trading Chart. Lol! Anywho. For all who are still listening and awaiting...WAIT NO LONGER! They got yall. Grace and Peace to all of our listeners. Thanks for your viewership and support! OH! Send us feedback, questions that you would all like answered, as well as subjects that you would like for The Pinckneys to touch on. Send them all to echomusic1987@gmail.com.

Michelle “Mace” Curran is known for her impressive thirteen-year career as a fighter pilot flying F-16s. She went on to serve three years as the only female pilot for Air Force's elite demonstration squadron, the Thunderbirds, where she was only the second woman to fly as the Lead Solo in the Thunderbird demonstration since the team's creation in 1953. It may seem like Michelle always was self-assured and confident, but throughout her journey, Michelle faced feelings of self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and lack of confidence. Her story is one of grit, perseverance, and determination. She recently realized the true gift flight gave her—the ability to help and inspire others to chase their dreams. She now speaks at organizations around the nation to share the lessons she's learned about overcoming obstacles and gaining self-confidence.   In this episode, Sylvia and Michelle talk about Michelle's path to becoming a fighter pilot, the experience of being a Thunderbird during the pandemic, the flyover at the Superbowl, the power of change to enable dreams, the birth of "Upside Down Dreams", and why she views empathy as her superpower. Topics Include: - Navigating college and joining ROTC- Experience learning to fly and the challenges of initial flight screening - Confidence and imposter syndrome - What can you learn from the opportunity to change- Advice for people experiencing setbacks - Physical stresses of being an F16 pilot - Relationships and dating as a pilot- Importance of debriefing and how this transfers to other areas of life - Michelle's transition into public speaking - Upside Down Dreams- Empathy as a superpower - And other topics…Michelle “Mace” Curran led an impressive career as a Fighter Pilot during her 13 years in the United States Air Force. From 2019-2021, she flew as the only female pilot for the Air Force Thunderbirds and performed for millions across the country and internationally. Michelle was only the second woman to fly as the Lead Solo in the Thunderbird demonstration since the team's creation in 1953. In 2022, Michelle left active duty to found Upside Down Dreams, where she travels the country speaking to organizations on lessons of grit, perseverance, determination, and teamwork. She's made appearances on media such as The Kelly Clarkson Show, Glamor, and CBS Evening News, among others.  Resources Mentioned:Nowhere for Very Long by Briana Madia: https://www.amazon.com/Nowhere-Very-Long-Unexpected-Unconventional/dp/0063047985 Michelle's Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mace_curran/ Michelle's LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/michelle-curran5/ Michelle's Website: https://macecurran.com/Stay ConnectedSignup for AIR BORN, our monthly newsletter! A letter from Sylvia will show up in your inbox, with links to her latest conversations and insights. Be bold, be brave, and fly.Website – https://www.whenwomenfly.com/Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube and Pinterest – @whenwomenflyWrite to us at  – hello@whenwomenfly.com

Brianna Madia is a writer, adventurer, and desert-dweller. For the last several years, she and her now Four pups Bucket, Dagwood, Banjo and Birdie call her big orange van, Bertha, home. An avid climber, canyoneer, mountain biker, kayaker, and explorer, Brianna believes in moving against the grain, embracing her true self, and trying all the things that scare you.Brianna's new book, 'Nowhere For Very Long' is available here:A woman defined by motion, Brianna Madia bought a beat-up bright orange van, filled it with her two dogs Bucket and Dagwood, and headed into the canyons of Utah with her husband. Nowhere for Very Long is her deeply felt, immaculately told the story of exploration—of the world outside and the spirit within.Amazon US Amazon AUSPre-order my new book 'The Path of an Eagle: How To Overcome & Lead After Being Knocked Down'. https://www.amazon.com/dp/163758492XFollow The Story Box on Social Media► INSTAGRAM ► TWITTER ► FACEBOOK ► WEBSITE Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/thestorybox. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

The Beans Return After a Very Long 2 Month Hiatus. In this Special Episode, They are Joined by Fellow Beans, Eazy and, First Time Guest, Danny. In this Special Edition, They Delve into the Music and Times of Malcolm McCormick, More Commonly Known as Mac Miller. They Talk About How They Came Across Mac Miller's Music, Go Through Every Album/Mixtape from K.I.D.S. to, the Most Recent Posthumous Release as of Recording, Circles and Rank Them in a Tier List and Much More! We Hope You Guys Enjoy the Listen and Hopefully We Were Able to Put You on to One of Our Favorite Artist's Music.P.S. Eazy's Mic Wasn't Agreeing with the Recording Program so He'll Sound Like He's Far Away. Many Apologies for That, We've Been Gone Too Long but We Hope You Enjoy the Episode Nonetheless!DISCLAIMER: We Don't Own Any Music Used in This Podcast but Use it Under Fair Use Law. All Rights Go to the Producers, Artists and/or Their Estate(s).ONLY MEANT FOR ADULTS 18 YEARS OR OLDERRest in Paradise Malcolm James McCormick aka Mac Miller

Instagram giveth, and Instagram taketh away — Brianna Madia has lived the full ‘influencer’ lifecycle. And she’s decided to tell the whole story the old-fashioned way: a book. What happens when internet fame turns sour? Brianna Madia hit the Instagram scene in 2012. She quickly attracted throngs of followers with wildly popular posts of her charismatic dogs — who played ersatz children to her and her then-husband’s nomad lifestyle. And it was all capped off with her illustrious desert home: a gargantuan, pumpkin-orange van, outfitted like an off-road behemoth from a “Mad Max” movie. But within the span of a decade, that story changed dramatically. The van no longer stars in Madia’s posts, she’s divorced, and her popularity — though still increasing and inching toward 300,000 followers — has spawned internet threads like /r/MadiaSnark that host growing amounts of criticism toward the 31-year-old. How did this happen? Why did it happen? And will it happen to other “influencers”? Madia’s story is the subject of her new book, “Nowhere for Very Long.” But in this episode of the GearJunkie podcast, she offers up some answers and truths she hasn’t spoken elsewhere.

Welcome Back Creekers!! It's our 10th Episode of Creek Talk Podcast! When did this happen??  We're discussing Episode 10 of Dawson's Creek titled, "Double Date" this week. And boy was this a CHAOTIC episode! For ALL of us! Dawson (James Van Der Beek)and Jen (Michelle Williams) are trying to become friends again after their ridiculously overdramatic breakup. Dawson tells Jen he thinks it would be fun to go on a double date with her and Cliff (Scott Foley). The only problem is that Dawson is still in love with his ex. YIKES!  He asks nerdy Mary Beth (Meghan Perry) to be his beard so he can use her to get back at Jen. But, Mary Beth isn't clued in on Dawson's plan.  How do you think this is going to end?  My guess would be NOT WELL!Story B has Pacey (Joshua Jackson) and Joey (Katie Holmes) teamed up as partners on an extra credit biology assignment where they have to study the reproduction rituals of snails. I'm sad to say that I never learned that in high school. The two end up ripping each other a part the entire episode, until the very end when Pacey decides that he just might like the girl from the wrong side of the Creek. Will Joey accept her frenemy's advances during this very early episode of the series? I think you all know the answer to this one. You pass biology! Stephen & Jayme love a good tangent and this episode could fill a Creek! We talk about our favorite fall outfits, Lucifer sculptures, and how much we miss having lunch together in the office basement. So if you're looking for a deviant lab partner while hunting for snails in your local creek, or you need a date to the town carnival this Saturday, we are happy to fill the position! Make sure you charge up your phone because we're giving you an Extra Special episode of Creek Talk this week! And by Special we mean VERY LONG.*RATE & REVIEW US ON Apple,  Podchaser, or wherever you listen to podcasts!*Follow Us on INSTAGRAM @CreekTalkPodcast*Follow Us on TWITTER @CreekTalkPod*Music Written & Performed by Justin Michael*Lyrics Written by Stephen Gavis & Jayme Whitehead

END OF BOOK ONE!!!!!!!!!! Thank you all a million for keeping up with us for the first few steps in this wonderful and admittedly VERY LONG journey. We appreciate every single play and we hope everyone is doing well and staying safe in Covid! Keep calm and carry on, and most of all keep listening. See y'all next time for INTO THE WILD TRIVIA DAY and after that, EPISODE ONE OF FIRE AND ICE! We are STOKED and we hope you are too—have a great day, whenever you're listening to this! Email us at: catsoftheclanspodcast@gmail.com Instagram: catsoftheclanspodcast Facebook: facebook.com/Cats-of-the-Clans-Podcast-111468277977354 Website: sites.google.com/view/ms-podcasts/podcasts/cats-of-the-clans --- This episode is sponsored by · Anchor: The easiest way to make a podcast. https://anchor.fm/app --- Send in a voice message: https://anchor.fm/catsoftheclans/message Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/catsoftheclans/support

On this episode of The AIE Podcast... Join the AIECon Winter 2021 for some frosty fun! AIE Alliance is turning two! SWTOR ends a VERY LONG story arch and new things are in store for 2021 All of your favourite weekly events are back, baby! And, we are our own guests! All that and more coming up right now... Podcast Audio Raw Video http://youtu.be/KT97X1kFruA Open Welcome to episode #358 of the podcast celebrating you, the Alea Iacta Est gaming community, the die has been podcast. This is Mewkow: To my left is Mkallah: - (Hey, folks, there are pumpkin chai waffles in the guild kitchen). And to my right is Tetsemi: (catch phrase here). This week we are doing an all host show! Welcome, Us! Ok, we'll talk about what we've been doing on our break shortly, but first, let's cover this week's news... AIE News Community AIECon Winter 2021 - Aiming for the weekend of January 22nd! There is a post on the guild website, aie-guild.org and a link in the show notes. https://aie-guild.org/aiecon-winter-2021/ Signups for board games and D&D will start this week and you'll want to get in there and get a slot. Please watch the page above and Discord channel #aiecon-january-2021 for more information! Mandatory Fun Nights Where the fun is mandatory but the attendance is not. Sunday - WoW Classic 2 pm Eastern Sunday - STO 8:30 pm Eastern Monday - GW2 9:30 pm Eastern Tuesday - SWTOR 9 pm Eastern Tuesday - FFXIV (Casual Raiding) 9:30 pm Eastern Wednesday - FFXIV (Fun Night) 9:00 pm Eastern Thursday - FFXIV (Progression Raiding) 9:30 pm Eastern Friday - ESO 9 pm Eastern Friday - FFXIV (Late Night Fun Night) 11:00 pm Eastern Saturday - LotRO 8:30 pm Eastern Saturday - FFXIV (Maps) 9:30 pm Eastern Saturday - Noob Raid (WoW) 11 pm Eastern Streaming and Guild Podcast News Fleet Action Report Fleet Action Report Ep 25 Guests Stars Part 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qxSxlEp2qvo Nikodas and Grebog fight through internet issues during the live show to bring you this episodes. We are back with more of the guest stars of Star Trek Online and the voice acting they have done to help bring STO to life. Fleet Action Report Ep 26 Enemies Part 5 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LrmJ57W1ArY Nikodas and Grebog are back for another episode of Fleet Action Report. This time we go into some of the servitor races of the Iconians. Come learn and see the combat abilities of the 3 of STOs greatest threats! SWTOR The Escape Pod Cast SWTOR ESCAPE POD CAST 366: 2021 PREDICTIONS http://www.newoverlords.com/swtor-escape-pod-cast-366-2021-predictions/ We kick off the new year with our 2021 predictions and more on this episode of The Escape Pod Cast for Star Wars The Old Republic with @AIESema, @MaxTheGrey and Astromech EPC-366. Working Class Nerds https://workingclassnerdscom.wordpress.com/ Episode 92: Welcome to the Kymerian Family! https://www.buzzsprout.com/143519/7187698-episode-92-welcome-to-the-kymerian-family.mp3?blob_id=31082614 Marcus and Nick sit down with The Kymeri! Kymeri is a Twitch streamer who specializes in Star Wars video game content (specifically SWTOR's PVP). They talk about the new High Republic books and comics, and a whole lot about Kymeri's rise to Twitch steaming success! You can find Kymeri at: https://www.twitch.tv/thekymeri You can find Marcus at: https://www.twitch.tv/marcusb814 NOMADS Dual Universe Update We have been hard at work developing new ship designs to sell to other players in the game. PkhBasko has begun selling a warp shuttle and is recieving good reviews on it. The planned cyberpunk style city is coming along and will see some design changes coming soon (tm) Alioth Aerospace Expo for January was pushed back after the last major update allowing us more time to prepare our ships to be showroom ready. A rework of one the Org's original ships is underway to make it more viable to be sold to other players within the game. Update 0.23 came to the game in December causing major changes to Crafting and Industry w...