This is my original Hip hop song No More Reignin' off my Alter Ego Full release Hip Hop Album, produced by Chrisville.
No more reignin is the second biggest single off the albums release with over 70,000 plays on soundcloud and nearing 20,000 downloads of the track. HUGE FAN RESPONSE
I always like to shoot for something unique different and out of the box.
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Check out PURE VOLITION REMIX HERE
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Grab a free copy of my Alter Ego full album release by clicking here!
페렛의 이름은 작은도둑이라는 의미를 가진 라틴어인 furittus 에서 유래했다고해요. 족제비과에서 유일하게 축화된 동물이래요. 처음에는 애완동물이 아닌 사냥용이었다는데요 기원전 25,000년에 로마인들이 사냥을 하기위해 키우기시작했다고해요. 뉴질랜드가 고향인 페렛은 토끼사냥을 잘해요. 그래서 농부들은 농장 주변에서 농작물을 갉아먹는 토끼의 수를 조절하기 위해서 페렛을 키우기 시작했습니다. 그런데 그 효과가 좋아서 세계 각국에서 페렛을 수입했대요. 그렇게 퍼져나간 페렛이 지금의 애완동물까지 이어져왔답니다. ₍ఠ ͜ఠ₎
페렛은 생김새가 많이 귀엽기때문에 애완동물로 인기가 높은편이래요. 역사속에 등장한 페렛도 있어요.
레오나르 다빈치의 흰 담비를 안은 여인에도 등장하고요
엘리자베스 여왕의 초상화에도 등장할 정도로 귀여운 외모를 자랑해요 (▰˘◡˘▰)
페렛은 털색깔에 따라 분류를 하는데요
크게 털색이 모두 하얀 알비노와 검은색과 흰색이 섞인 마블 두종류로 나눌수있어요.
호기심이 엄청많은 동물이라서 집안을 난장판으로 만들어놓기때문에 우리사육이 좋다고해요. 이 귀여운 페렛은 하루에 20시간이나 잠을잔대요.
1시간정도는 먹고 2~3시간정도는 실컷 뛰놀면서 이것저것 헤집고다니는거죠. 먹고, 자고, 놀고 부러워요 (❁´▽`❁)
페렛은 애완동물이면서 실험동물이래요.
인간의 독감에 대한 연구에있어 아주 중요한 동물이라는데요 2009년에 조류독감을 연구할때도 이용됬다고해요. 인간의 독감을 연구하는데 페렛이 이용되는 이유는 해부생리학적으로 사람과 엄청 유사하기때문이래요.
허리가 몹시유연해서 좁은 틈으로도 잘빠져나가는 탈출의 대가이기때문에 키울때는 항상 조심해야해요. 도망간다면 찾기가 무지무지 힘들거든요.
쇼생크탈출이 따로없어요 ٩(๑•̀o•́๑)و
또 나이가 많아지면 암에 잘걸리기때문에 항상 주의를 기울여줘야한다고 해요.
이 귀여운 페렛도 버려진대요. 특유의 악취때문이라고 하는데요 대소변냄새도 강하고 체취도 강해서 예민한 사람은 키우다가 포기한다고해요. 그 단점마저 사랑해줄수 있을때 가족으로 데려오는게 맞을것같아요.
지금까지 인간에게 사랑을 받고 사랑을 주면서 의학적인 도움마저 주는 고마운 동물인 페렛이었습니다.
그럼~ 안녕 ! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و
다음 편에도 더 이상하고 특이한 애완동물로 찾아오겠습니다.
글이 마음에 드셨다면 투표 및 팔로우 해주세요 !
긴 글 읽어주셔서 감사합니다. (⋈◍＞◡＜◍)。✧♡
위의 링크에서 옮겨왔어요 ~
One day, a group of loggers took down a really big tree and out tumbled five baby raccoons. They were crying and scattered all about. The men felt sorry for them, so everybody took one home. I don’t think the neighbors were thrilled to have pet raccoons in the neighborhood, but my siblings and I were delighted. My Mom named ours Peggy. Peggy quickly learned her name and the word “NO!” I think she thought her name was PeggyNO.
Peggy, like other raccoons, was extraordinarily cute, with quick, jerky movements and incredibly agile little black hands. She started out drinking goat milk from a tiny bottle, but quickly advanced to raw vegetables and fruit. She also loved bread and especially pancakes. She dunked everything into water before eating it, like washing the dishes. I’ve heard raccoons do that to add water for digestion. I don’t know about that, but watching her wash the food made us laugh, especially when the food dissolved.
Once, we gave her a chunk of ice cream. By the time she washed it, it disappeared, melted in the water. She came to us for more and we saw the dog drinking up all the ice cream flavored water. Another time when she got a piece of cookie, it too, turned so soggy wet that there was nothing left to eat. That time, Peggy lapped up the loaded water herself.
As she grew up, Peggy was always in trouble. Mom did not care for some of her more mischievous habits. For instance, Peggy loved to play in running water, so she learned how to turn the hose on. Naturally, she never felt the need to turn it off, which annoyed Mom quite a bit. On hot afternoons, she sometimes prevented the horses from drinking by swimming around in their water tank. The cows though, didn’t seem to mind at all.
Many things caught Peggy’s eye. When she saw something she liked, she carried it off like a prize for her collection. As a baby, she lived in our house for only a week or so before Mom made a place for her in the barn. I don’t know if Peggy ever actually slept there, but she kept her collection there. She did not limit her raiding to our property, and collected an astonishing treasure trove of small objects from our neighbors as well as our house.
She had clothespins, some of Dad’s tools, like sockets and a little screw driver, a doll’s head—though I blame my brother for that more than Peggy—and pieces of a broken flower pot. Peggy took good care of her prizes; everything was clean and washed, too. The collection changed from time to time, and we often went there looking for lost things.
She liked to be involved in whatever we were doing. If we raked leaves, shoveled snow, swept the porch, or did any job with a handled tool, Peggy would ride on it. She would grab the handle and sit on top of the broom or whatever. We would tell her, feebly, to get off, because she was funny and we didn’t really want to do the work anyway. By adulthood, she weighed over thirty pounds and was way too heavy to move when on top of a tool. Peggy didn’t believe us, so wouldn’t get off. Mom didn’t believe we were very serious either and made a point of ruining all the fun.
Peggy did not limit her mischievous antics to our house. Mostly her thieving went unnoticed, or at least, we never heard about it, but there was one time when Peggy caused quite a neighborhood ruckus. We had one neighbor whose complaints we rarely listened to, because he complained constantly. His name was Louie something. We called him Loopy when our parents weren’t around to tell us to stop it.
Loopy was a little old oddball who lived alone in a huge, decrepit farmhouse. But that’s not what made him odd. He made what he called “communication devices” and antennas from things he hauled home from the dump. He displayed them all over his yard. I couldn’t imagine people buying them, but somebody must have, because that was how he made his living. Loopy brought home chunks of black top, or asphalt, and assembled them on his driveway like a giant jigsaw puzzle. He also hung whirly-gig wind catchers and streamers from his yard sculptures. He told people that he communicated with spacemen and extraterrestrials with all that stuff. His place looked like a massive junkyard. Peggy thought it was Disneyland. She was always coming home with stuff that we knew came from Loopy’s yard.
One of Loopy’s constant complaints involved us kids messing with his stuff and, as he thought, stealing it. Our parents knew it was Peggy doing it, but didn’t want Loopy to know about her. Loopy didn’t have any animals or pets because he said they all have rabies. We didn’t think he would understand about our raccoon.
Anyway, one evening when it was almost dark, we were about to go inside for the day when we heard Loopy hollering and swearing. We thought about going to check on him, but this had happened before so we negligently ignored him. It was only about fifteen or twenty minutes later that a police car and an ambulance came down the road with lights and sirens wailing. They both turned in at Loopy’s driveway.
Apparently, Loopy had called the police to report an alien sighting. He told the police that he was checking on one of his pieces of equipment and saw a tiny, bony, black hand slowly reaching out at him. It tried to grab his shirt. Loopy lost it. He ran yelling and scared into his house and called for help. That is what we had heard.
Of course, the police didn’t discover any aliens. They suggested that it might have been a prank. That’s when Loopy told the police that if it was a prank, us kids probably had something to do with it. So the police came knocking on our door to talk to our parents. When the police told us what Loopy said, we laughed and laughed. Even Mom and Dad were laughing. We were all aware that just moments before the police came, Peggy had come home with more Loopy loot and ran off to the barn with it.
The part of the story about the alien with tiny black hands was just too funny to stop laughing. I’m sure the police suspected we knew something, but they left us alone and went away chuckling themselves. Peggy didn’t go over to Loopy’s place much after that. I think the yelling, lights and sirens unnerved her.
Peggy did not stop getting into trouble, though. One of her last antics at our house involved unpinning every single piece of laundry that Mom had hung out on the clothesline to dry. After the clothes were down on the ground, Peggy rolled around in them and our dog dragged some around the yard. They were a torn and dirty mess when Mom discovered them. Furious, Mom locked Peggy in the garage. She told us that when Dad got home she was going to ask him to take Peggy far away and leave her in some woods somewhere. All of us kids were sobbing and crying at this news but Mom was really mad. As it turned out, Peggy didn’t wait for Dad to get home. Cross at being locked in the garage, Peggy decided to entertain herself. We all heard a loud—and rhythmic—CRASH…CRASH…CRASH... coming from the garage.
When Mom opened the door, we watched Peggy, calmly walking along the shelves of canning jars, and slowly pushing them off onto the floor one by one to watch them smash. It seemed that Peggy continued doing it, deliberately, while watching Mom. Wow. We thought Mom was mad before!
Somehow, Mom got hold of Peggy and gave her a serious walloping on her giant, fluffy behind with a board. Peggy chattered and growled and ran off into the woods behind our house. She apparently took that spanking as the ultimate insult, because we never saw her again. But I am sure she lived out her days wreaking happy mayhem on countless victims. Mom maintains that raccoons are not worth the trouble as a pet… I’m sure Loopy would agree with her!
The ESEE Izula II is one of the best fixed blades you can buy right now for under $100, in my opinion at the very least. It is a lightweight, smaller sized knife weighing in at 3.3 ounces that packs quite the punch in performance. The brand (ESEE) that makes this knife is owned by a company named Randall's Adventure and Training (Aka, RAT). They make other knife designs that they have mass produced by the Ontario Knife Company, but with this design they wanted a higher quality that just wasn't possible with their manufacturing capabilities. There are two models of the Izula available, the Izula II is the newer model and is mostly the same as the original Izula. The only differences between the two are that the Izula II's handle is half an inch longer than the original, and it comes with a full set of micarta handles straight from the factory. The original Izula came with paracord wrap instead which I personally haven't ever been much of a fan of on knives.
I purchased this knife from Amazon for the price of $71 at the time. Mine came with the sand colored micarta scales like it normally does, but I swapped them out shortly after receiving it. I personally was just not a huge fan of them and the way they felt in my hand. I decided to get some G10 scales that were pre-made for this knife instead from knifeconnections website for around $45 shipped. I went with the blue and black G10 scales, mostly because I was not a fan of the other models they had in stock at the time. They installed quite easily with the hex head screws and fit perfectly and felt/looked much better to me. They do come in a variety of colors for anyone interested, they have orange, green, blue, red, camo, lavender, earth and a few others. The knife is extremely ergonomic in my opinion. I can get a full four finger grip even with it being a shorter blade, and no part of the steel or knife feels aggressive or unpolished.
The knife comes with 1095 carbon steel drop point styled blade, though it is very reminiscent of a clip point in my opinion. The blade out of the box was quite sharp, I would say shaving sharp at the very least. I was pretty surprised considering the price point. The entire thing besides the scales comes powder coated from the factory. They sell a semi large variety of different powder coated finishes for the knife, I just chose to go with the classic black since that's what I find attractive. The blade is 0.16" thick and the blade is 2.875" long, although the sharpened edge is only 2.625". The overall length of the knife is 6.75" long. The jimping on the spine of the knife is quite even and comfortable to hold against your hand, and I haven't found any faults with it on mine. With it being such a lightweight and shorter knife, most people suggest using them for a back up knife for camping/survival. I've carried mine for EDC and really enjoyed it though so I can say it's much more useful than just a back up knife. It seems to be able to handle just about any task you can throw at it, honestly. I've used mine for food prep in the kitchen, some mild wood working, and to shred some cardboard boxes with ease.
I purchased a Tek-lok for the sheathe I got for the knife as well so I can carry it on my belt. It carries very well on the belt and is much more comfortable than trying to slide it in your pocket with the sheathe. I am carrying horizontally with the clip plate installed which is what I found works best for me overall, YMMV. I do think if you're planning on carrying this knife intensively or in a survival/outdoor situation for a long time that you'd be better off getting a custom sheathe made for the knife, since the basic kydex one you get isn't terrible but isn't that great at the same time. It's really just acceptable at best in my opinion.
Overall, I am happy with this knife. It has performed extremely well for me and seems to be up to the task to handle any and all abuse. This is more of an outdoorsman style knife, but will do anything and everything a typical EDC knife will do as well. It's great for whittling wood and I had an easy time chopping up food with it in the kitchen. I would highly recommend this for anyone needing a camping knife, though if you're going to be chopping up some large pieces of wood or something more demanding then perhaps a larger knife would suit your needs better. I personally feel this would make for a great skinner/gut knife and is a great addition to any survival/camping gear. The coating on the knife will probably wear away after awhile, but that's to be expected. Should anything happen to the knife however, they offer a lifetime warranty which from what I hear is excellent ;)
Thanks for taking a look at my post! If you enjoyed this post feel free to give me a follow for more gun and knife related content in the future!
It always happens that we want to do something new, but if that something big, this thing requires sacrifice and dedication on our part to do it well in the best way. But we as human beings always want things to be as easy as possible.
Whenever a person tries to do something without sacrificing enough, this thing ends up going wrong. The key is to be aware of this and give one hundred percent of the effort to make it happen, whatever the goal is.
I remember once grandfather told me that if there was anything he regretted in his life, it was that he hadn't done better things that could have taken him to better living conditions in a time of more youth for him.
Many people may think the same way, in the case of my grandfather is that he wanted to be a footballer, football has always been a profession quite lucrative, today more than ever but years ago it was as well.
My grandfather told me that when he was young, the national teams of the first division in the country were quite interested in getting his services because he had real talent, the point is that (said by himself) his attitude wasn't the most mature to face this challenge through.
He told me that several times after practice, when he wasn't absent, he used to go with his other friends to drink beers and another alcoholic drinks, ignoring the advice given by nutritionists to perform better on the field.
My grandfather was never signed by any football team because of his lack of discipline and dedication, according to himself, he had the necessary talent but not the mentality to do so. It was quite difficult to do it without this last one.
Certainly today you could see high-level football players on television, but what many people don't see is the thousands of hours of training that these athletes spend in order to improve their technique and become better players.
And the same thing happens with many other things in life, really with all of them.
If you want to be a musician, the best thing to do is to make the decision to be an excellent musician and practice for it, once you are so talented with whatever you choose, the world will have it impossible to ignore you, which will clearly take you to success.
Many people want to have the best things in life, I have no doubt that each person on this planet are looking for a better life than they currently have, but the dilemma is that not many people are willing to assume the sacrifices so as to make the things happen.
It is not about something easy, in fact that is the reason why there are more poor people than rich people, there are few people who decide not to do it mediocre (whatever they are going to do).
Once a math teacher told me: It doesn't matter if you're going to be an orange seller, but try to be the best seller of oranges.
How much truth in this sentence that my math teacher told me many years ago. It is too much about trying to be the best in whatever you choose in life.
That is the philosophy of Cristiano Ronaldo, once a journalist asked the Portuguese how he did to keep himself in shape during all seasons without lowering performances and he replied that what moved him forward constantly was his desire to always be the best in the world.
The philosophy of Portuguese is an example to follow for anyone who wants to succeed, even if people call him arrogant time after time.
So you know that when you want to achieve something, keep in mind that there will be several obstacles, but if you decide to do it the best possible way by putting aside mediocrity, it will be very difficult to fail on your way to whatever you want to do.
Once aware of this, you have half the way gained, the other half is on you if you decide to apply it or decide to ignore this concept.
Images taken from pixabay.com
Part of @raluca Christmas present was a white hat. Or, to be more precise, a bit of cash to buy a white hat that she’ll like. It’s brutally cold in Bucharest these days and a hat is mandatory. She gladly embarked on this journey but, since she is so minimalistic and stuff, she managed to get 3 clothing items for the price of a white hat. Which, I want to say, is a remarkable feast in itself.
One of the items she bought is a grey blouse. As a matter of fact, is more like grey-ish. Or white with a dash of grey. But not grey. Definitely not grey. More like ecru. Something like that.
As we talked about the actual color of the blouse, we realized again how different the world of colors is for men and women.
When they see green, women will distinguish at least: lime, fresh grass, grass, green, dark green, moss, green yellow and, beware, don’t ever trespass into the controversy of sea-green. That may actually be a shade of blue. Don’t go there. You have been warned.
In a 2012 study published in National Geographic, a few researchers came to the conclusion that this difference is the result of evolutionary adaptation.
Noting that men in the study showedsignificantly greater sensitivity for fine detail and for rapidly moving stimuli,the researchers write that their hunter forebearswould have to detect possible predators or prey from afar and also identify and categorize these objects more easily.
On the other side, women seem to be more sensitive to static objects, necessary for their gatherers role.
Meanwhile, the vision of femalegatherersmay have become better adapted recognizing close-at-hand, static objects such as wild berries.
I don’t know how this will play out in a world where hunting and gathering are not as necessary as they used to be. Our functional roles evolved a lot. But I can clearly see how the instinct of hunters and gatherers is still playing a big role in every small community, including steemit.
Recently, there were flames between a few high-profile members of the community, which happens to be men. Beyond the factual support for the claims, over which I have no knowledge or interest, it’s fascinating to see their hunting-prey approach. Most of the time, the dialogue and actions were aiming for a symbolic
capture of the perceived opponent or some sort of leverage. I’m not saying this is good or bad. I’m just saying that it’s obvious.
And if you look at the occasional comments of women in this dispute, you’ll see not only a finer decomposition of the topics at hand (more shades of the same color), but also an approach towards maintaining some sort of safety, if not a status-quo. Again, I’m not saying this is inherently good or bad. It’s just obvious.
So, instead of making value judgements about which approach is “better”, being a hunter, or a gatherer, I would very much advocate for a deeper cooperation of both parts.
If we already have these instincts in us let’s not mock hundreds of thousands of years of evolution and throw it all away.
There’s scientific proof that the world will actually have more colors in this scenario.
image source - Pixabay
I'm a serial entrepreneur, blogger and ultrarunner. You can find me mainly on my blog at Dragos Roua where I write about productivity, business, relationships and running. Here on Steemit you may stay updated by following me @dragosroua.
This was anticipated Hasim reflected.
So far, so good.
“11 of September 1994.”
“Country of origin?”
“Lineage,” the voice boomed again with more force.
Hasim took a deep breath.
His objective was to be accepted, but he hadn't prepared for this question.
Hasim cleared his throat and began confidently, “I am Hasim Patel, son of Abram Patel, son of Shem Ali, son of Edom Paran, son of Elam Patel, son of Nahash…”
“That’s far enough,” the voice interrupted.
Hasim let out a sigh of relief.
“Jeffery says that you demonstrated an ability to fight,” the stern voiced questioner, Tectamus, added more as a statement than a question.
Hasim nodded. “Sir, I’ve had my share of fights. There is nothing more I would like to avoid, but when push comes to shove, there is only one thing to do.”
“Well, what do you see your role here being?”
“This is something I’ve given much thought to and depending on your needs, I am sure I can fit in where you need me.” Hasim answered evasively.
“Look, we know more about you than you may realize,” Tectamus said with a hint of threat in his voice.
Hasim had done his homework, but he only knew what he was able to find. He was not able to know what he didn’t know he needed to know.
“Tectamus, right? Can I call you Mr. T? I am going to put it on the line here and tell you I am here to help and think I can provide you with some real assets in my ability to gather information for you from sources you may not normally be able to reach.”
“Undoubtedly, and **no* Mr. T is not okay*, but my friends can me Chief. That’s all for now, Hasim, we will talk more later.”
Hasim left the building alone with a nagging thought that he left knowing only a little more than before and that he gave up more information than maybe he should have.
He plopped down on his worn futon. He interlaced his fingers and cradled the back his head spreading his elbows out wide.
So this is how it ends?, he contemplated.
The pending oil depletion had been in the news everyday for the last decade, but it had been kept at bay due to constant innovation in the industry. It began with Fracking and changed over the decade in as many ways as the mega-corporations squeezed every last cent from the earth.
Hsiao, was from the Shandong province which had experienced a boom in economic prosperity because of its proximity to South Korea and Japan which provided commercial investments and tourism to the area.
Hsi could be described as a textbook slacker. He had an intellect and wit smart enough to skate by in school without much strenuous efforts and he rarely challenged himself to become something greater.
He liked thinking and didn’t think much for working too hard.
Now that the world was rioting and fretting over food, Hsi felt like his life choices served him well.
If it was all going down the tubes anyways, why strive for what is certain to quickly be no more?
It was thinking like this that often kept Hsiao from taking action.
So this is it, he kept coming back to.
Should I try to go out in a blaze of glory? Should I try to piece together some sorta coalition and build a tribe to support and supply me and each other?
What about being a lone wolf type?
The dystopian fiction and television shows had peppered his mind with many options and opportunities.
Whatever happens, this is gonna be fun.
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Conceptual literature confronts the self concscious, self assertive values of lyricism by offering alternatives to this normative condition of writing. Alternatives inspired in part by the procedural artwork of American conceptual artists from the 1960s.
The following poem is a transcription of YouTubes closed caption feature, providing an ersatz simulacra of the inspiration for this work by the same title, by Christian Bök. The idea was to automate the function of creativity in writing this poem, allowing the lyrical nature of this poem to adapt and reform into a new one, much like the concept for the
original poem itself.
Christian Bök has spent more than ten years writing what promises to be the first example of 'living poetry.'
I have spent less than an hour simulating what is essentially the up-teenth example of 'Cyborganismic poetry'.
After successfully demonstrating his concept in a colony of E. coli, Bök is on the verge of enciphering a beautiful, anomalous poem into the genome of an unkillable bacterium (Deinococcus radiodurans), which can, in turn,
read his text, responding to it by manufacturing a viable, benign protein, whose sequence of amino acids enciphers yet another poem.
The engineered organism might conceivably serve as a post-apocalyptic archive, capable of outlasting our civilization.
I have spent less than an hour simulating what is essentially the first example of 'Cyborganismic poetry', and if the poem is itself is conceptual, then the following poem can quite easily be argued to be just as durable as the unkillable bacterium.
Conceptual literature confronts the self concscious, self assertive values of lyricism by offering alternatives to this normative condition of writing. Alternatives inspired in part by the procedural artwork of American conceptual artists from the 1960s.
Here is a link to the reading of The Late Heavy Bombardment by Christian Bök, as read by Christian Bök.
Welcome rate and reader, today he DNA on above the earth.
When Ramadan’s ruled there cobalt bombs into your Malton were ruled a basalt and bronze.
When mighty golem Swan do from orbit to drive their Gleaves %uh Viron into your black mesas, only to be in gold by the blast waves.
When meteors bill earth word in droves, each one a good time on warhead on blaze.
When super volcanoes erupted lamb Obama’s after each hammer blow from these endless blitzes.
I love arrow lights and firebombs.
When bolide some brimstone collided then exploded into a bladed cascades, when tsunami usable all marine down like napalm betrayal, knowing the subcontinent’s.
When millions of Molotov cocktails shattered all at once upon that cobblestones of hell.
When Trojans beserk with reach stormed over the brink of your RBS, vowing to claw your face from the skull love the moon.
In what dire seed must these onslaugths have scattered like shrapnel across your cremated badlands, what prix on what virus, what breed of spore must emerge like a spear point or a sword blade from these early Albans of out spitz, each cyanide bonfire burning in reverse, spitting fourth up fitful embryo, cloned from the smoke and the dross. What orchid must have bloomed among the flamethrowers in the furnace.
What Dragon must have hatched from the burnt teeth buried in these ashes, must the universe be so pitiless as to give a late all its offspring at birth.
Even now the astronauts have marshalled their forces to March, resolute across the Killzone up your godforsaken crematorium, even now they forge ahead onward through win ball and wildfire, on aware that far away are doomsayers, murmers prayers against them from a fiendish grim long are.
What great combat has yet to plummet from the heavens like a rocket engine, dousing its jets during splashdown in your own versions of nitro glycerin. What thunderclap has yet to hold the advent of this plowshares which can bowl does a mountain into rubble up on impact.
What match heads when scraped against your atmosphere can ignite its oxygen, turning the sky into a blazing typhoon.
Only a demigod like 9994 to %uh pappas can offer you this up apocalypse by being the Juggernaut that smashes through with a massive bowl war cup your bedrock.
Well we just lawyers like 2101 Tantalus or 4179 to talk to us can erase all earthlings with the ease up suicide bombers at our marketplace. Can a nor’easter in its shell survived the inferno up free fall from outerspace? Cannot crocus thrive in soil made from polarized meteorites. All hail hail bop, and every other super bomb yet to detonates.
What great dying must the earth percy in the barren mirror of the mood? In what 8, what fury, what Muse must gaze upon the grim basam grief reflected in your silver shield, a faceplate, a bulletproof glass marred by bullet wounds.
What cinders aflame disintegrate in your gracie’s of nectar, a beber of crisis.
What shell shock must reach you when you stumble aghast upon the charred remains of of forest at Tung us gonna its evergreens top old and blasted, all of them long asunder like match sticks.
What for gotten holocaust at three to Fort, must you your turn to recreate whenever you vaporize and a toll.
Even now your battalions of astronauts stride across green plains, uptrend a tight, to storm the walls of Castle Bravo and Castle Romeo.
Even now Niel Armstrong returns like Orpheus to the airlock, his spacesuit reeking of gunpowder and bird Steele.
What americans sorcerer must 88 his spy plane by the stray light %uh me dear storms, the flak from the Dracaena IDs or the score, pierdes raining down like glitter dust.
A palm, the desert during on nocturnal firefight.
What size blades must the biking sports from the wreckage of an asteroid, recovered from Cape York?
What Archangel must the marchers placate when they kiss that Blackstone about combat mecca during the Hajj?
What sunburst must erupt like crack at Olaf over the Arctic Circle, when the higher power: love your payload, exceeds by tenfold all that dynamite exploded during WWII.
Even now the president up the United States sits alone at night, dreading the grim how we’re when he must open the memo from years aid, only to read up on the page, the single phrase; Pinnacle new clash, the newsflash that chronicles the on the side up the world.
“Love: part II: Love- to not pride myself on what I’m good at but instead, sit reticent while listening to every word she has to say. To embrace each waking moment I have with her tangled within the strength of my arms. To gently touch her scars from past trials and defeat, only wanting to heal them and never cause further emotional destruction. To look her in the eyes only letting truth fall from my lips. To never allow her to go a single day questioning her own worth and the place she holds in my heart. She only deserves my very best to my absolute worst. It is my responsibility to maintain an appropriate stature, never placing pain in her heart, worry in her mind, or set that pretty face to frown. Never letting my love be a mystery, but to let it flourish willing and innocently. Tears that may fall should be granted upon optimism, not as a result of my arrogant negligence.”
“So my best friend, Johnny’s, pit-bull was killed by Anti-freeze poisoning yesterday.” I scratched at my goatee, waiting for Sky to respond.
“Holy fuck! Is he all right?”
“Not at all. We are pretty positive who did it, though.”
“So, what are you guys gonna do?”
“It was probably this guy Charlie who has been giving us trouble.”
“Why does this guy have such a vendetta against you and your friends?”
“Funny story, uh… I used to date his girlfriend back in high school. I have been messing around with her lately and he found out about it and kicked my ass as a result. He wasn’t in any position to stop until I finally left Nicki alone. But we haven’t spoken in days and this guy is still after us.”
“Damn! That’s some crazy ass shit you’ve got going on. What all has gone on between you guys?”
I took a large intake of smoke before explaining the whole situation. I was certain she thought I was an insane jackass for what I’ve done lately, but instead she was interested and wanted every detail. By the end of my rant, Sky opened up and began telling me about a horrible breakup she had not too long ago.
“I’m sorry you’re going through all of that shit. A while back I was really into this guy, I mean he was everything I wanted down to perfection. I ended up moving to Chicago to wait for him because he said he needed to get the money to come with. Well, I waited for almost two weeks and it eventually became annoying. The constant “Oh, I’m working on it, I’ll be there soon, baby” got on my fucking nerves. A girl I’m like best friends with now, called me one day telling me how she walked in on him with another girl. It literally shattered my heart, I just couldn’t believe it. I moved all the way here for him, to a fucking city I knew nothing about, not knowing a single person. He just left me and didn’t give a shit. I was set in denial over the fact that anyone could be so fucking heartless, ya know? I’ve had worse relationships, but that’s what landed me here in Chi-town. I love it now that I know people and am doing well for myself. But at first, I honestly had no idea what the fuck I got myself into.”
“That’s insane! I’m glad you’re so strong-willed and have the power to keep moving forward. That’s quite admirable.” I went on telling her about my past with Nicki, hoping her opinion about me wouldn’t change. It was the complete opposite.
“I’ve never really been one for indulging in thoughts of getting tied up and beaten by a lover. Probably because another ex of mine and I used to get into physical altercations. I wouldn’t consider myself an “over the top” rough candidate in bed, but I usually adjust to my partner.”
“Wait, you let another guy beat up on you?” I literally wanted to slam my laptop shut, find this girl and change her fucking life.
“Don’t judge me! Lol. I was in love with him, or at least “thought” I was. He was my first for everything, that’s why I took it so hard. It’s not like he beat me to a pulp or anything, we’d just slap and I’d shove him around, ya know? Shit like that. To think about it all, it was just a horrible relationship. He’d make fun of me when we were younger because I had bad acne. Calling me things like pizza face, and a greaser… etcetera. He also told me no one would ever love me or want me because of how I looked. He was just an insensitive asshole. But now that bitch is overwhelmed with regret because I went from “ the ugly duckling” to what I look like now and his ass can’t stand it!”
“I must agree, you are just uh…yum? Ha ha.” I almost felt stupid for saying that.
In the middle of our conversation, my phone started buzzing across my side table. I leaned over to see Tiffany’s name etched across the screen and wanted to ignore it, but curiosity got the best of me. I flipped it open to a picture message and what I saw nearly gave me a fucking heart attack. A positive pregnancy test sat on my screen, clawing at my eyes but I couldn't look away. I immediately dialed her number, only letting it ring once; Tiffany ignored my call. I sent a text begging for her to answer or to call me back ASAP. Instead, I went all night with anxiety nestled in my gut.
“Shit...” I muttered, digging my nails into either side of my face.
I lost interest in just about all I had planned that evening. What was I going to do if Tiff decides to hold me accountable out of anger and keeps the child? My web of endangerment was thickening and I found it quite troublesome to break free.
I lied in bed for hours without sleeping, trying to conjure up what the fuck to do. I had to turn to the only person I considered to be closest with, so I called Trent over. At first, he was disgruntled over to the fact that I disturbed his rest at 2 AM for advice, but he later lightened up once I explained the extension of my issue.
“Man, what the fuck is going on now?”
“Shh, dude, lower your fucking voice before my father kills us both!”
“Sorry.” He whispered. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was talking to Sky and got a picture message from Tiffany.”
“Of her tits?” He joked.
“Shut the hell up, would ya? No, how about a goddamn pregnancy test? And guess what? That shit was positive!” I whispered loudly.
Trenton cupped my mouth with his massive hand to hush me. “What are you gonna fucking do, Malice? Can you not fertilize every female you plow, you shithead?”
“I don’t fucking know? What do you think I should do? And now’s not the time for your smartass remarks either, this is serious.”
“I think for starters, you both need to talk in person. Then have her agree to get an abortion, break clean and call it a fucking day, bro. That’s what I’d do.”
I dug my nails into my scruff, dragging them down to my chin, contemplating. “I guess I could do that.”
Trent gripped my shoulder. “No, you will do that. The last thing you fucking need right now is a damn kid.”
I nodded in agreement, walking him to my front door.
Try and get some sleep, would ya? I'll see you later.
I tried calling Tiffany once more before forcing myself to sleep. All I got in return was a text message telling me that we’d talk about it tomorrow. Great. That’s all the clarity I needed.
The following day…
Tiffany approached me with haste as soon as she saw me. “Bri is having another get-together--if you’re interested?”
“That’s not what we need to discuss right now. And yes, I know. Trent told me earlier.”
Her posture sagged with a sigh. “Why are you so worried about it?”
“Uh, because it’s my fucking child?” My chest tightened.
“It might not be...” Her eyes veered off.
My head cocked slightly, as I narrowed my eyes. “What in the fuck does that mean?”
“It means it could possibly be someone else’s. I fell victim to a weak moment, bedding someone out of spite.”
My eyes enlarged while my brain scrambled to find words. “Who else have you been seeing?”
“Saw… it was only once.” She corrected. “And you’re going to hate me after I tell you.”
“Tiffany,” I lowered my voice, remaining firm. “Who the fuck did you sleep with?” My heart pounded in my chest, studying her behavior.
My mouth fell open, standing in the middle of solid oblivion. The room spun around me and the floor suddenly quaked like it was about to drop out from beneath me. Charlie’s name echoed inside of my head, causing me to fall over. I hit the linoleum hard with a faint. Trenton and his father helped stand me to my feet when I came back around and I only wished that I was having a bad dream.
“Whoa, that felt weird.”
“Yeah, you fainted. Are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks. Tiffany, we aren’t done discussing this.” I said before walking away.
I sat in a brooding silence on the way to Bri’s house. In time, a headache surfaced from clenching my jaw like vice grips all day long. I was pissed and couldn't stop thinking about it.
“Dude, chill out! We are going to have fun. Are you okay, though?”
“My head is starting to hurt.”
“Here, take one of these.”
A white pill sat in the middle of Trent’s palm. I shined my phone across it to determine what I was about to swallow; it was a 10mg Percocet.
“Well, I’m about to be extremely fucked up.” I chased the pill with the amber liquid that filled my flask.
“I told you that you’d find use for that damn thing. Let me get some.”
Once we arrived, I noticed my motorcycle parked behind Johnny’s car. I guess he wanted to surprise me and it worked. Tiffany was posted poolside with Bri and some other girls I didn’t know and seeing Trent, Bri jumped up to greet us while Tiff remained seated. Just to be an ass, I plopped down beside her, taking a swig from my flask before speaking. My arrogance began to surface its little head the more I drank. “What possessed you to do such a stupid thing? My enemy, I mean seriously?”
I was way past the point of being sober as anger pulled at my nerves, forcing the jackass to come out of me.
“I don’t know what I was thinking, I guess I wasn’t. I didn’t consider the long-term effects.”
“That’s apparent.” I sneered.
“Look, it was a huge mistake and I’m sorry. I’m going to get an abortion, regardless.”
“I mean, how’d you even get that psycho obsessive bitch to sleep with you, anyhow?”
She looked taken aback by my comment. “Okay, uh--rude much? Anyway, I ran into him at the store and we began talking after he complimented me on my looks. Telling me some bullshit about how familiar I looked, this that and the other. Once he told me who he was, the plan just unfolded before me. I wanted to get you back because you really hurt me, Mali.
I remained mute.So, he invited me over and I gladly accepted. I started feeding his ego then he advanced by pulling me onto his lap and in a matter of seconds we were having sex on the edge of his bed. We both knew why I was there but no in your regards.”
Wow, was he the easy lay--or were you? I'm just trying to get the story straight. I carried a smug grin.
How was it?
“Are you serious? Why do you even want to know that?”
My hand took her in by the throat, squeezing so tightly the veins in my hand began to bulge. “You're so interested in my rough side. How are you feeling about it now?
I flung her away, taking another sip of bourbon. Tiff's eyes swirled with turmoil and reject.
“I dare you...
To touch me in that way again. It'll be the last.
“Good.” I stood to my feet, ready to get the hell out of there.
“Hey, Mali. Catch.” Johnny hollered.
I raised a hand, feeling the impact of my bike keys meet my palm.
“I saw that you finished her. She looks immaculate. I really do appreciate it.”
“Well, surprise!” He smiled. “Take better care of her this time round.”
Before I could walk off, I saw Nicki leading a group of her girlfriends through the back gate.
“Where the fuck is this bitch?” I knew she was bound to start a fight and I couldn't let it happen.
“Oh shit... ” Trenton choked on his beer.
“Is that her, Mali? Huh? Is that Tiffany?” Nicki yelled at me.
Instinctively, I stood in between the two of them because I knew Nicki would wreck Tiffany, and light her fucking world up.
“Who is this bitch who obviously wasn’t invited?” Bri stood up, walking over to where we were gathered.
Innocently driving by, I saw Trent's truck and there was your motorcycle. One of my gal pal's has a fling that resides a street over. Let's not be rude, Malice. Introduce me.
The entire crowd became silent, lingering in awkwardness that exaggerated the controversy.
“Malice, you’d better fucking answer me now! Stop protecting that little cunt!” Nicki bit out.
She had rage in her eyes and I knew the extent of intensity she was feeling inside.
“Nicki, please don’t do this.” I lowered my voice.
“What? Defend my fucking relationship? That bitch fucked my boyfriend and I want to know why!”
My eyes darted intently into hers, recapping her public announcement of admitting her official relationship status.
“He’s a pitiful fuck for starters...”
Before Tiffany could finish her sentence, Nicki flew through me, tackling Tiffany to the ground. Sitting on top of her, Nicki began whaling the shit out of her but Tiff didn't let that stop her. In the midst of angry screams, Tiff rolled over, attempting to restrain Nicki from getting in another lick while Johnny and Trenton pulled them apart. For some reason, I just decided to stand there and watch instead of being the hero. I was the very reason why they were fighting, to begin with and I knew it. Trenton held Nicki back and Johnny restrained Tiffany while they continued squirming, trying to get at one another. It was utter madness, biut who didn't love a good cat fight?
“Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, slut! I know she’s your little fuck toy, Malice. But, I’d advise you to keep her on a tighter leash because next time… it won’t be so good for her.” Nicki cut her eyes, yanking away from Trenton’s grasp.
You better watch your back, princess. Nicki and her flock hee-hawed all the way out of sight.
Colton followed to verify their exit was complete, putting a thumb in the air, continuing to drink his beer.
Looking back at Tiffany, I remained smug with disgust. “Now look at you’ve caused. Jesus Christ!”
“Correction, look at what you’ve caused, asshole!” Tiffany then stormed off, seeking comfort from a friend.
I drew in a ragged breath trying to process what just happened.
“Bro, you need to keep your hoes on better lockdown. I thought Nicki was gonna whoop some ass!”
I glared at Trenton before taking off into the darkness.
“You’ve been drinking, Malice! Don’t you dare ride that bike home!” Colton yelled after me.
I shot up my middle finger, continuing to leave. I was anxious to ride my bike, cranking the engine with rejoice, but I struggled to see the road ahead of me. I sped out of the neighborhood until I got onto the highway. I wanted to take advantage of the free road space by riding the center line, watching the night sky pass by overhead. Coming up to a red light, it seemed to have taken forever just to turn green. Meanwhile, a car pulled up next to me playing extremely loud music. I glanced over and saw Dean and Raymond. In disbelief, I squinted to be certain on who it was staring back at me.
“Healed up nicely I see, Malice.” Dean grinned.
I flared my nostrils and defiantly spit on the side of his car. Watching the light across the pavement reflect green, I jerked my head forward, snapping back the throttle and flying down the street. I didn’t think twice about giving them any lead way to endanger my life this time. I was infuriated and crazed in the membrane. I wanted to feel the peril creeping in on me the faster I went. I needed something to remind me that I was alive--breathing and willing. There was nowhere to hide being surrounded by a violent force. This was my life and I needed to change it.
Finally making it home, I snuck into my house, stumbling down the hallway. I fell into my nightstand with a crash in search of the cord that hung from my ceiling fan. Due to my failed attempt, I sat on my floor for God knows how long while trying to stop the room from further rotation. I went from feeling dizzy to nauseated to high and sick all over again. Resting my head atop my knees, taking slow, deep breaths, Sky's message tone sounded on my laptop making me jump out of my skin. I flew onto my bed, ignoring the urge to vomit while waking up my monitor just to see what she said.
I looked down at the keys as they appeared to grow in size, then shrink again. I violently shook my head trying to clear my vision to reply. Yes--my savior. The very person I longed to talk to.
“Yes, but barely. Lol”
We talked again for a few hours while I sobered up. This time, things reached a more critical level. I told her about how my father was towards me and how my mother is now, since her accident. I wasn’t fishing for sympathy, just someone to listen and she did just that.
“I’m so sorry about how your home life is, that’s terrible how your father is towards you. I wish you weren’t dealing with it all the time. You seem pretty tough though having been through all sorts of shit.”
“You have no idea, so to get my mind on a better subject, I’m curious. What are the meanings behind your ink?”
“Well, my left forearm says “La vita e Bella” Which is “Life is beautiful” in Italian. I also have a clock. I wanted something that represented time. For example, time flies; don’t waste it for it is precious. The third is a quote I got when I was depressed, wanting to just feel something. I needed to drown out my crucial feelings bound by an upset which says “Embrace beauty, be brave, and unique. Believe in dreams have faith in love”, and I have a pink bow on the back of my neck that matches my best friend. My most recent would be on my right forearm of an owl harboring a heart shaped locket. Its resemblance signifies the old saying “A wise old owl sat on an oak, the more he saw the less he spoke, the less he spoke the more he heard, why aren’t we all like that wise old bird?” Pretty much a personal reminder to always be wise about who I decide to let into my heart.”
I just sat there rereading their meanings once more, filing the information away into my memory. This girl was battling something fierce, but her mystery kept me on my toes, causing feelings to adorn and prosper. I returned the detail about my tattoos and told her more of my interests, including what I wanted out of life. That may have been the first time I had verbalized such things. Before I started talking to Sky--I never knew, but something about her made me figure it out.
For days more, we continued staying up with our late talks. I’ve told Sky things that I haven’t really told anyone else. Not even Trent or the guys. There was something incredibly unique about her and it had taken me over. Perhaps a new feeling of hope sat in bloom?
“So, this happens every night?”
Brett Waters stares at me as if I’m insane, and frankly I’m beginning to agree.
We’re sitting in the Hart House dining room having lunch and I’m telling him about my dreams. We both teach courses in modern drama, but I specialize in Tennessee Williams, who’s preoccupied with desire.
So, I'm well acquainted with deep-seated passion, but still, I’m not just a drop of reason in an ocean of emotion—I hope.
I try to maintain some semblance of rationality, although I'm feeling very vulnerable at the moment
“I’m at a loss to explain it,” I tell him, “but somehow I get the impression this girl is someone I once knew and is now dead—and, face it, she’d have to be, because as you know, my love life is pathetic.”
“Any clues as to where your dream affair takes place?”
“I get the impression it’s the Deep South—I see white manses and smell magnolias.”
He rolls his eyes. “O my god, Bro—southern belles and mint juleps! Can’t your dreams at least be a little less conventional?”
I color a little—Okay, a lot. I need to explain—try to justify myself.
“Yeah, I thought of how lame that sounds too—but I do teach Tennessee Williams.”
“Well, if I were you, Pal, I’d just go with the flow. It seems harmless enough—but until we perfect 3-D holography, this is probably the closest you’re going to come to losing yourself in a romantic fantasy.”
He gets up to go to his 1:00 pm lecture. “I hate to say it,” he grins, “but Freud would have a field day with you.”
I smile ruefully as he walks away. He’s right, of course—it’s probably my long-suppressed libido, my Id, making a back-door assault on my Ego and speaking to me through the language of dreams.
But I also have a lecture to attend too, and as I think about it, the image of my Nemesis comes to mind in the person of Karine Williams, a beautiful, but challenging student.
From the first day of semester, Karine has been a persistent adversary, peppering me with incessant questions and smirking if she succeeds in catching me unprepared.
Her constant needling has worn me down and made me limit student questions.
Lately though I’ve decided to take a more proactive approach—not allowing her acres of time to hand in assignments, and cutting her off when she verges off track.
I’ve drawn a line in the sand so to speak, and if she crosses it today, I’ll make sure she pays.
I lean on the lectern watching the students file in and sure enough, the last one to enter is Karine. There will be no respite from needling today.
It’s the Friday before the long weekend and term assignments are due today. I wonder if Karine will make the deadline, and to forestall any arguments I begin by reiterating the rule I made—either get the assignment to me in class, or hand-deliver it to my home.
“You know the rules,” I remind them. “If your term paper is not in today, I won’t accept it—or, poor you, you’re going to have a long car ride to my Muskoka cottage.”
The class laughs and Matt Morton, a linebacker for the Varsity Blues calls out, “My paper’s ready, Prof—I even read the books for this one.”
I laugh along with the class, but notice Karine is not smiling—not a good sign. I decide to get right into the Cat on a Hot Tin Roof lecture and so I start in with Brick and Maggie’s confrontation in Act One.
I begin by stating that Maggie uses the excuse of poverty to justify why she always has ‘to suck up to people.’ She claims it’s turned her into a restless cat on a hot tin roof.
Karine’s hand immediately shoots up. The class groans—Matt Morton rolls his eyes, and I grimace inwardly.
“Yes, Ms. Williams?” I strain to say the words evenly, plastering a brittle smile on my face.
“I’ve noticed you’ve adopted a very biased attitude toward Maggie, Professor Enright—you’re seeing her through a male perspective.”
“Well, duh,” Matt Morton snickers, “He is a man, if you noticed.”
Karine’s eyes flash. “That is such a typical male response—taking sides against a woman.”
I decide it’s best to stifle this argument before it gets really heated.
“Let’s not get into a He Said—She Said, disagreement. I always believe that when there’s a difference in interpretation, you should let the text speak. Do you agree, Ms. Williams?”
She glares at me. “Yes, I do.”
“Good! Then bring your copy of the text up here and stand beside me.”
She hesitates a moment, looking uncertain. Matt Morton snickers, anticipating some kind of come-uppance in the works, but to her credit, Karine doesn’t back down.
“I want you to read Maggie’s part, and I’ll read Brick’s—and we’ll let the text decide.”
“I don’t do southern accents,” she hedges.
“Neither do I,” I counter.
She tosses her head defiantly allowing her long dark tresses to mesmerize me. But then, begins reading, falteringly at first, but gaining momentum and confidence as she goes.
Maggie’s part in Act One is demanding—she has to sound hysterical and out of breath as if she’s run up several flights of stairs yelling Fire! And she has to sustain that energy all the way to the end of the Act. A demanding role for Karine to play.
Serves her right, I chuckle inwardly.
As for me, my part is easy. I get to utter monosyllabic replies for most of the time, before things start getting heated between Brick and Maggie.
But as we get into the rhythm of the dialogue, a strange thing starts to happen. In the midst of acting out Maggie and Brick’s conflict, a storm blows up outside the lecture hall.
The tall, narrow windows are illumined by waves of blue lightning.
As Maggie lashes out at Brick, thunder rumbles ominously in the background. And as Karine gets into the cadence of Maggie’s voice, her speech begins to take on a southern accent. When I reply in Brick’s indifferent tone, my speech has a southern drawl.
Suddenly, a real rage exists between us. I feel myself grasping for Brick’s crutch so I can brain Karine—er, Maggie—do anything to make her stop.
The atmosphere turns electric and the room grows darker by the minute. Finally, it becomes so dark we both get scared and stop.
The lecture hall goes ominously silent—reminiscent of the pause between lightning and thunder—and then there is an enormous loud crash, and Karine screams in fright and falls into my arms.
The minute I feel her in my arms a dark network of hidden memories lights up inside me.
I’m dazed and shaken, and at the same time powerfully attracted to her. I stare at her lips wanting so badly to crush them beneath mine, but am aware of the students gaping at us as we cling together on the raised platform.
I come to my senses and pull abruptly away.
I manage to call out, “I think we’ll end early today because of the weather. Don’t forget to hand in your papers on the way out.”
Nobody moves or says anything.
Finally, Matt Morton gives a huge sigh and deadpans, “That was intense.”
His remark breaks the ice and the students laugh, and then begin to file out. It’s then I realize I’m standing alone on the platform, feeling bereft and desolate.
Karine has fled, leaving me feeling totally abandoned.
My hands are shaking as I clumsily gather up term papers and shove them into my briefcase.
I drive home in pouring rain, peering through the rain-splattered windshield and seeing superimposed over the splashing streets, a transparent image of Karine's face.
Everyone turned to look at the pony. Except for me and Bubba. I thought of the black panther kitten as Bubba in my mind. He was a Cyber-cat. The little horse was a Cyber-pony. I had a ThumBrain. The two cyber-animals were linked together via wifi and so was I. The pony had dropped an info-dump on Bubba just before it died. I knew this because, oddly enough the ThumBrain hanging from the torque around my neck picked it up too, and squirted it right into my brain.
Bubba-cat shot out the door like a tomahawk missile. I was right behind him. I was trying, and against all expectations, I was succeeding, in keeping up. A normal house cat can run over thirty miles per hour if it’s in a hurry. Bubba wasn’t normal, he can run MUCH faster and he was in a BIG hurry. No way in HELL could I run that fast…but I was. It had to be those damn bionic legs that had been giving me so much trouble lately. Something was really strange but I didn’t have time to worry about it just then. We had a young girl to save.
That cat passed Trog in a flash, just as he launched a swarm of drones. I was right there with the kitten. Little did I know it at the time but every damn customer from the restaurant was a galloping after us…they were pretty far back, and not going NEAR as fast. Me and that cat, we was hauling ass.
I tuned in automagically to the drone flight. My thumbrain streamed video from them. A mile or so ahead of us, just over the next hill, was a mob of Jihadis. I had no idea what flavor they were. They had a young girl, the pony's rider, one of Rosetta’s grand chillen,bent over the tailgate of a pickup. They were raping her, some were even standing in line waiting their turn.
I found out later that the little girl had been out riding her pony and they had ambushed her, before she could get off a shot. The fact that a young girl should be out enjoying herself with no male supervision had enraged them, like as not. That she had a weapon caused them to go berserk. They weren’t just rapeing her they were beating her too, looked like they were intent on killing her.
We had to stop em.
The drones got there first...barely. They were just surveillance drones with no weapons. Still..they packed a punch when they plowed into a head at top speed. The raps on the heads distracted the Jihadis until Bubba ripped right into them full bore. He caught them completely by surprise. He literally caught many of them with their pants down. Too bad for them. They tried to shoot him. Shooting each other often as not. Bubba was a hard cat to catch, much less hold, in the cross hairs. The jihadis didn’t even USE cross hairs or any other kind of sights. They didn’t aim, they’d just spray and pray. Bubba didn’t stay still for an instant, just slash and dash.
I was right there with him. This was up close and personal time. Just perfect for a battle-ax, and that’s what I had, gotta love that smoke pole’s ability to transform. The fog around the end of the diamond core flattened out and grew edges. It became a double bitted one handed ax. A really damn sharp one too and electrified with lethal voltage.
In the other hand I had a pistol. Here come ‘da JUDGE. Raging Judge that is, loaded with .454 Casull, wielded by a raging trucker.
I had the element of surprise, and I was lightly armored. I started chopping. I’d save the pistol for special needs. It had a limited number of bullets and I damn sure wasn’t going to be able to reload. The axe, however, wasn’t so constrained.
I wasn’t wearing my duster, it was much too warm for that. I did, however, have on a poncho. I’d had Trog modify it for cooling. It was also ballistic protection, much the same way as the duster only lighter weight. It was protecting me, mostly, but this was pretty much point blank range. It’s damn hard to stop a bullet when it’s fired from close up. I was getting hammered but the bullets had lost much of their punch. They were hitting me…but they weren’t killing me...right a way.
I kept chopping.
I could hear em yelling at the top of their lungs. We’d demoralized them. They were screaming to boost their courage.
Aloha SnackBar! Aloha SnackBar!
Over and Over. So that identified them. They weren’t Radical Feminists. They was also screaming something about evil devil women from hell..or some silly thing. The onliest female I saw was Rosetta’s great granddaughter..and she didn’t look too well. Actually she looked kinda dead. It looked like the Jihadis had raped her to death.
Never give up hope.
I had to save her if I could. She might only look dead. She might still be alive. I ignored the bullets and kept choppin’. The Jihadis kept shooting and one out of ten, maybe, hit me. I felt like I was being repeatedly hit by a baseball bats but I kept on.
Me and that cat hit them Jihadis like avenging angels or the wrath of God…or rather…since I am an agnostic…their ass was grass and we were lawn mowers. I used that ax like a meat cleaver. My clawed feet gave me really good traction (I had clawed feet? I didn’t used to have clawed feet...I did NOW! They looked like fighting rooster feet with spurs!) and I put some force behind those swings. If anyone pointed a gun at me I shot em in the face.
I waded into them swinging right and left, kicking, slashing and shooting. There is no such thing as fighting dirty. The only way to fight is to fight to win. It’s a binary solution set…win or die.
I tried really hard not to die. I was right in the middle of them. It was a target rich environment. I could shoot, stomp, slash or chop in any direction and get one or more of them. All I had to do was look out for the kitten. That cat didn’t take much looking out for, he could look out for himself. He didn’t look much like a Jihadi either, it was easy to tell them apart. He was purtier and didn’t smell half as bad. So that part was pretty easy. They, on the other hand, shot each other about half the time. There was, however, a great many of them. We must have surprised an army or something.
Deja Vu all over again…this was worse than Chile. The claws on my feet and the ax in my hand didn’t need any ammo. The Judge did. When it ran dry I just dropped it. It made a poor club and I definitely didn’t have time to reload.
I reconfigured the axe, and got a firm grip with both hands. The handle was longer, I got some SERIOUS force multiplication and range. I proceeded to do some serious chopping. I’m a big old boy. Those claws on my feet gave me good traction. I put my heart and soul into those swings. Arms, legs, even heads went flying. Who ever I hit with that diamond sharp axe went to pieces.
A swarm of lions and tigers arrived about then…Bubba’s kinfolk had come to the party. Bubba was no longer the only big cat tearing the Jihadis throats out with his teeth, while ripping their guts out with his claws.
About that time my luck run out. Suddenly, with no recollection of what happened, I was flat on my back. Bubba was standing over me screaming his battle cry. We was looking up the barrel of an AK-47 that a terrorist was pointing at us.
The terrorist grinned, then his head exploded.
The carnival mood is already being felt here in Recife. The downtown shops are already full of costumes, masks, frevo umbrellas and props for people to buy and enjoy this one that is the biggest popular party in Brazil. You can already hear frevo orchestras playing around the city and on the hills of the neighboring city (Olinda). Many carnival blocks are already doing their rehearsals over the weekend, attracting many people who follow the orchestra playing through the streets of the city.
Even though Brazil is experiencing a severe economic crisis, Recife's carnival attracts many people to its festivals, not only people here from Brazil, but from abroad. It is very easy in the blocks of carnival to meet people from the U.S.A, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Australia, Holland and even from more distant countries like Russia and even Japan that come here to the city to enjoy the carnival.
After Christmas, Carnival is my favorite party. I like to listen and see the orchestras playing around the city, the animation of people dancing frevo, I believe that this is a very original and spontaneous way that the Brazilian has to forget and hide his problems and his daily struggle, with joy.
Biggest Carnival Block of the Worldaccording to the Guinness Book that is called :
Galo da Madrugada. A crowd of 2 million people fill this avenue. It's crazy.
Stay tuned to my next posts, because I will certainly have several other posts about the carnival. I will go to the street to follow all the blocks of carnival during that time and I will post here all the photos, curiosities and the grandeur of this party for you.
Image provided by Pixabay.
If you're just joining us, welcome! You have the chance to choose which story you want continued on this site, and you have three choices: here's choice #1, below is choice #2, and choice #3 will be coming your way some time tomorrow. Have fun reading, and may the best story get an ending.
The Owl Hours
He hadn’t really known what to expect, when he’d shown up at the temple. The way the monks decided who was worthy of a pledge was mysterious, and rarely discussed by outsiders.
What he hadn’t expected was to be sitting across from a girl who looked barely older than himself — if she was that — and for her to be glaring at him.
“So,” she said, her tone distinctly unfriendly. “You want a Guardian.”
The fire flickered between them. He willed himself to sit up straight and look her in the eye, willed himself to remember why he had come.
“Yes,” he heard himself say. “I do.”
The girl sighed, her ash-colored braid shifting with the rise and fall of her chest. “And the Fire’s deemed you worthy, who knows why, and stuck me with you. But it’s my decision whether or not to pledge to you, so tell me: why should I? What makes you so worthy that I should protect you, even at the cost of my own life?”
To be perfectly honest, he didn’t know. But looking at this girl, and the harsh, unforgiving planes of her face, he knew that such an answer wasn’t going to cut it. If he told her that he hadn’t the slightest idea why he was worthy of the all-encompassing protection of a Guardian, he would be walking right back out of the Cha-M’betha Temple with only his magic to protect him. And with what he had in mind…
He studied the girl for another moment. She sat across from him with perfect posture, the temple’s robes draped elegantly about her. The soft folds were offset by the many weapons strapped to her, though — the Cha-M’betha warriors had never been the kind to hide their weaponry. There were daggers strapped to her forearms and thighs, a sword and longbow strapped to her back, and glass rings on her fingers that he knew held various poisons and their antidotes. Her braid was threaded with metal wires that had been coated in shards of glass. She was a living weapon, limned with a sense of power and energy that he envied. She was ready for whatever the world could throw at her, he was certain. And if something happened that she didn’t like, she would fight and claw her way to a change.
What was it like? To have trained since you were little, to imagine nothing other than war? He examined her face, trying to imagine what it would have looked like before the color had disappeared. Would she have been beautiful? Would a woman like this have even cared about something as soft, as immaterial as beauty?
He continued to look at her, to wonder what words he could possibly use to sway someone like this. But she didn’t fidget, didn’t cough or prompt him. She simply returned his stare, waiting as if they had all the time in the world.
“Because I want to change the world,” he finally said. He had a feeling that nothing other than the truth would cut it here, so he swallowed his pride. “I want to know what the world was like, before the king took over and all the color left. I want… I want to give that back to people again. And I feel… responsible for the way the world is now.”
She tilted her head. “You want to kill the king.” It wasn’t neither a question, nor an accusation, and for some reason this made him feel better.
“And you need help?”
“Yes. I’m a sorcerer, but sorcery only goes so far in battle. It’s better for long-range things. If I were caught in a fight…” he trailed off, hoping she’d fill in the gaps.
She looked him over, noting the lack of defined muscle or weapons. “You would die,” she said bluntly. “So you need… a bodyguard?”
And a friend, a comrade, someone who believed in him, someone who he could trust. But a bodyguard was a good start. He would take a bodyguard.
“And you won’t tell me why you feel responsible for the way the country is now, or why you’ve decided that you need to kill the king, or why you need to do it now?” she asked.
Well, there was no point in lying. “No. At least, not now.”
“Then you won’t get an explanation as to why I’ve decided to pledge to you, either,” she said simply, and he watched in shock as she slit her palm open in a business-like manner, then tossed the knife to him so that he could do the same. He did, wincing a bit, and clasped hands with her over the fire in the ancient ritual. To his surprise, she smiled at him as the flames danced up to entwine their hands.
“My name is Irie, and I am your Guardian. It's nice to meet you.”
A few years ago I had started to do exercises intensely to have a fit body, I decided to enroll in the gym closest to my home and start a discipline routine of exercise in order to achieve this goal. One of the things that had to be done within the exercise routine was definitely some cardio.
To be honest, I admit that at the beginning it was quite fastidious to follow a continuous cardio routine, but I just got used to it and I was already beginning to even like it. In fact, some time later, I even started going to a mountain in my city called El Ávila, a fairly quiet place where people have the option to climb by cable car or just by walking. It is a mountain of more than 2,000 km high, which is not easy to reach to the top by walking.
I've always liked natural environments for some reason, and apart from exploring unknown territories I could do a good cardio any day. Until that moment I had had several friends who had invited me to go there several times but I always denied because honestly I was so lazy most of the time, since I needed to wake up at 7 in the morning, and getting up on a Sunday at that time, at that moment, was not so attractive, but my friends insistently invited me to climb the mountain.
A few months after starting the gym I decided that it was a good time to attend all the invitations that my sports friends had made me to climb the Avila, I communicated with my friend Jeison (a friend who had much time without seeing), I said it was time to climb the Avila as we had said before. It was the first time I was going to climb that mountain, I had no experience and we needed to go with a leader who knew the road perfectly, I had heard stories of people who had simply lost in Avila for days and even people who had died for being lost inside the mountain. It occupies a fairly extensive territory, and to get lost within it could be fatal because the land has few signs to return to the road, if somebody could think of venturing into unknown territories that had no road, that person was taking the risk of getting lost for who knows how much time.
By the way, in El Ávila there are many types of animals, but the most dangerous were certainly the snakes, an uncle had told me that snakes abounded in El Ávila especially in territories that were not very traveled by humans. Trees, rivers, ravines and even sometimes on the regular ground the snakes could appear from nothing, so people should be very attentive. But the truth is that in the regular road of people was very weird to encounter these types of animals, nevertheless the indication was clear: Do not get into unknown territories without an experienced guide.
Besides, people could do their exercises and explore quietly but only by the road marked for people.
The day came when we finally got up to El Avila, I woke up early that Sunday, I put on my sports clothes and I was ready to venture on that mountain. I met my friends right at the entrance of the mountain on one side called San Bernardino, the route was until Sabas Nieves, which was approximately 2-3 hours away on foot, passing the mountain, we weren't able to climb to the top of the mountain Mountain because none of the 4 had really the necessary resistance to do such a feat.
Abraham was the leader, because he had already climbed several times El Avila and simply knew many ways and as these were, was undoubtedly the most experienced of the 4. We started to climb and to be honest the first 20 minutes of travel was quite a climb steep, and you needed a great resistance not to pass out at the moment (I'm exaggerating a little, but I was tired enough), there I realized that my resistance as an athlete was at a lower level than I expected, it was as if I never Made exercise in my life.
I thought that the climb would never end, I saw my friends Ricardo and Jeison quite tired as I was, but Abraham looked like Moses opening the sea, the man had not a trace of tiredness in the face, this led to Ricardo, Jeison and I to make an extra effort so as to get to the flat part of the mountain and take a little break right there.
Unfortunately, as a good rookie, I forgot to bring a bottle of water. I asked Jeison and Ricardo to see if they had any of this and they, like good newbies, just like me, replied that they didn't have any. But what caught my attention was to see that Abraham didn't carry a bottle of water either, so curiously I asked why, he answered that it was not necessary because we would find a ravine of crystal clear water later where people could drink all the water they wanted, and that the best thing of all was that it was pretty cold. That reassured me enough, knowing that I would get to a place where I could take all the water I wanted after such a rise was quite comforting. The road had become quite amusing, we were already at a certain height where one could see pretty much of Caracas, and to be honest this view was something astonishing, since it was the first time that I was looking the city from that angle.
As we were 4 friends who had some time without seeing each other, the topics of conversation weren't lacking and we were also during the soccer world cup of Brazil (Venezuela didn't qualify, but the 4 of us were soccer fans). The day seemed perfect, sunny with no hint of rain or something, but even though it was sunny on the mountain it was starting to get cold. The climate inside this mountain is usually cold, quite pleasant indeed.
We had about 45 minutes since we had started our tour and we were approaching the first small waterfall of crystalline water, I was impressed by what I had seen until that moment and besides that, there were not many people to say, then the road had been quite nice until then. I was already tired when we reached that place where we would take water, and in fact I was the first to practically launch myself into that small waterfall. As Abraham had said, the water was very cold, just what I needed at that time due to my low energy level. I repented the energies as did my other 3 friends and we continued on our way.
Several people passed us by the sides at a higher speed than us, they were trotting but we were walking because of our low resistance at that time. Deeper in the mountain was almost complete the loneliness and the silence due to not much people used to walk around that route, they were really few those who crossed that way, the majority of the people always arrived until half of where they had gone up and then they returned, but in addition to exercising we were enjoying the environment and I, as a rookie, was getting to know these territories. The truth at that moment I realized how much I liked that kind of thing as the woods and the rivers and mountainous environments indeed.
We arrived at the second waterfall, but this one, unlike the first one, was not so small, this one had its route to another mountain road, at that moment we did not get much inside but I had already left with the urge to go through those Territories, I was totally curious. But it was just a moment to get back to drinking water and replenishing energy. The silence at that moment was something great, you could only hear the sound of water coming down the waterfalls, which increased my intrigue to these places.
We simply followed our path, a few minutes later we would reach the third and last waterfall of the route, below the waterfall there were even people bathing as this site was even bigger than the other two we had already seen, you could imagine the intrigue I felt, I wanted to explore the whole place, but Abraham was certainly the leader and if he said it was dangerous I simply had to listen to him, I really did not even know the main road so at that moment I was not going to put myself in risk by going alone, but nevertheless I decided that the next time I went up, I was going to get through those paths in the previous waterfall, only to see how far it was from other roads.
After this last stop Abraham informed us that the most difficult route was to come, it was a climb even longer than the first one I mentioned in which I almost passed out for low energy, and unlike the first, this one was pure earth, mud and stones, which made it more difficult to pass through. We only had about 30 minutes before we started to descend and reach the end of the tour, but these last 30 minutes would truly be difficult indeed. We started the way up and Ricardo, Jeison and I had our legs tired unlike Abraham who still seemed to be Leonidas from the movie "300" of how energetic he was. Obviously, in order to avoid "making a fool of ourselves" we simply continued despite the exhaustion, the first 15 minutes of that last climb had been so complicated, nonetheless I decided to give in and I told the group to stop for a moment, Ricardo and Jeison seemed to have wished the same thing for some time now.
Abraham looked at us like "oh my god, these newbies..." but he did not say anything, only he understood what we were going through. We continued and we stopped again on the way about 2 times before starting to descend, we had already passed the 3 waterfalls and we only had to endure until we reached the exit of Sabas Nievas to be able to buy water, and even though we were pretty near to the finish, it felt like an eternity. I remember when I started to climb, I found myself quite decent, but by the time I got to Sabas Nieves I was completely destroyed, full of dirt and even with a shoe almost broken, but definitely the tour had been fantastic, I decided it had been worth it to get up early that day to finally meet El Avila.
Later in the house, I communicated with the boys to date the next week, the 3 cordially agreed to go the Sunday of the following week again.
But this second trip would not be as easy as the first... This had been my first tour in Avila, the second was really the most exciting, but I will tell more in the next post.
A corrupt Italian politicians takes a hit from the crack pipe and indulges in a threesome with an underage prostitute who dies of a drug overdose while he stands naked, pissing from the balcony of a hotel. Will this be as brilliant as the adaptations (film and TV) of Saviano's novel "Gomorra", or is it just an attempt to ride on the wave of their success?
The film is marked by doom. It literally feels like Rome's last days when the two rival Mafia families (and the Vatican) are drawn into a tangle of brutality that escalates with each new sociopath being introduced. The title Suburra derives from the name of the red light district of ancient Rome.
The Italian Godfather-character called "Samurai" is planning to turn one of the capital's harbor areas into a European Las Vegas. In his way stands "Numero 8", a younger and crazier gangster with torn jeans and a T-shirt tucked into the pants.
By all means, it's often authentic, dirty and violent. Especially in the adrenaline fueled firefight in a mall. But it's rarely original and too often over-dramatized to hide the flaws of the script. "Suburra", based on the novel with the same name, is set in 2011 just days before Berlusconi's resignation, which gives the film a seeming depth that unfortunately becomes shallower and shallower as generic thugs murder and threaten in ways we've seen a hundred times before and much better in other films.
Stefano Sollima, who already effectively made a TV series of Saviano's "Gomorra", aims to guide us through the entangled world of villains where politics, religion and organized crime merge, something that the film Gomorra succeeded with exceptionally well. "Suburra" unfortunately lacks the emotional depth, empathy and characterization that made "Gomorra" so great. The dialogues and characters bring to mind soap opera, the clichés come thick and fast, the numerous and disconnected intrigues relentlessly follow one another and the violence is over the top gory. Neither subtle nor intelligent.
Somewhere in time
we get a sliver of a chance
To be human or toxic
coward or divine
Somewhere in time
etched in our birthright
long before the blood flow
of life and death
One to rule the other
measured by choice
Somewhere in time
we won’t be there
unforgiven or revered
in the name of the children
For the sake of the children
nothing matters most
Tenían ambos hermanos 8 años de edad (eran morochos) y estaban sentados ambos en un columpio grande y hablaban sobre qué bonito sería tener mucho dinero, en ese entonces decían que todo el dinero lo usarían para comprar juguetes. Ellos eran de una familia pobre. No tenían muchos recursos económicos, sin embargo la madre de estos dos morochos con el poco dinero que ganaba, cubría los gastos de sus dos hijos ya que era una madre soltera y nadie la ayudaba con nada.
Andrés siempre fue un niño muy aplicado, él siempre aunque no entendía algunas cosas que le daban en clases él buscaba la manera de que los profesores u otros compañeros le explicaran lo que no entendía, sin embargo Pedro era todo lo contrario, No le gustaba estudiar y más que nada en el mundo esperaba la hora del recreo para salir a jugar con los amiguitos.
Pasaron los años y ambos hermanos tenían 12 años de edad. Estaban caminando por una acera camino a su casa y Pedro le dice a Andrés:
- Andrés mira, ya tengo un teléfono.
- ¿Qué, cómo lo compraste?
- Que voy a estar comprando nada Andrés, me lo conseguí.
- ¿Donde lo conseguiste?
- Detrás del asiento de Alfonso, nuestro compañero.
- Pero porque no se lo diste a Alfonso, seguro era de él.
- Si, era de él pero ya es mio. Yo me lo conseguí.
- No Pedro, mañana devuelve ese teléfono.
- No Andrés, yo me lo conseguí así que ya es de mi propiedad.
- Eso es malo, nuestra madre no nos ha enseñado eso Pedro.
- No le pares, ve esto como un regalo divino. Este teléfono cayó del cielo.
- Bueno Pedro, yo se que no lo devolverás pero a mi no me involucres en eso después.
- Tranquilo hermano, tranquilo.
Siguen caminando rumbo a su casa tranquilos.
Pasan los días y Pedro vendió el teléfono para comprar golosinas y otras cosas. Mientras que Andrés de tanto que ha luchado por aprender y hacer sus tareas, le pagaban para que él les hiciera las tareas a los demás niños, con ese dinero que ahorraba le decía a su madre que no necesitaba que le diera merienda, pues ya él tenía. Mientras que Pedro siempre le pedía.
Pasaron años y ya ambos estaban en la secundaria. Andrés siempre en sus clases, aprendiendo poco a poco más de los temas y asignaturas que les brindaba aquella escuela. Mientras que Pedro ya no le gustaba entrar a clases. Un día se encuentran afuera de clases y Andrés le dice a Pedro:
- Oye Pedro ¿Por qué no entraste a la clase de física?
- ¿Para qué Andrés? Eso no me hará tener dinero hermano, yo la verdad estoy pensando en trabajar.
- Pero si no estudias ¿cómo piensas trabajar? para obtener trabajo debes ser una persona estudiada, con conocimientos, como lo son abogados, ingenieros, médicos etc... ¿Cómo piensas trabajar?
- No mi querido hermano Andrés, estás muy equivocado, para trabajar no necesitas tener tantos conocimientos. Hay un amigo que me ha aconsejado y solamente tengo que vender lo que él me de y ya. En un mes puedo hasta comprar un carro.
- ¿Pero qué vas a vender?
- Drogas Andrés qué más por favor.
- No Pedro, no te metas en eso hermano. Estudia como yo lo hago, yo te explico si no entiendes pero por amor a nuestra madre, no te metas en ese mundo.
- Tranquilo hermano, yo soy él que los sacaré de la pobreza. Tan solo dame unos meses y verás. Tú tranquilo hermano, apuesta por mi.
- La verdad no me gusta eso Pedro, pero si estás tan decidido. No te puedo seguir aconsejando.
- Ya verás hermano. Seremos ricos...
Andrés se marcha a su casa a terminar algunas tareas que debía terminar para el día siguiente y Pedro se queda en una esquina la cual él decía que era su esquina. Andrés nunca entendió por qué Pedro decía que era su esquina.
Pasaron otros años más y Andrés ya se graduó de la escuela y estaba a la mitad de la universidad, él no había conseguido tener un carro, aunque estudió y trabajó al mismo momento, nunca pudo comprar un vehículo ya que él mismo se pagaba la universidad, estaba estudiando para ser ingeniero. Pero, ante todo esto el estaba tranquilo. Su vida era normal tenía que ir al trabajo y luego a la universidad.
Por el contrario Pedro ya no solo un carro, tenía tres camionetas, dos carros y una casa. Pedro siempre estaba de fiesta en fiesta, tenía miles de mujeres a su poder. Pues ya se había vuelto uno de los más altos distribuidores de droga de la ciudad. Tenía mucho dinero. Un día se encuentran en una panadería. Estaba Andrés haciendo cola para comprar un pan para la cena y escucha una camioneta con sonido a todo volumen y se paran frente a la panadería, se bajan dos hermosas mujeres y le piden al dueño que le den refrescos, panes y demás Cuando voltea Andrés y ve que es su hermano quien manejaba la camioneta se sale de la cola y le dice:
- Ey hermano, tiempo sin verte.
- Hermano verdad que si.
- ¿Qué tal, cómo te va?
- Bueno ya tu ves jeje, sabes que siempre me ha gustado lo bueno y mira. No me quejo. ¿Tu como estás?
- Estudiando como siempre hermano, también me ha gustado lo bueno, pero no me ha ido tan bien como a ti.
- Yo te lo dije Andrés con estudios no resuelves nada. Por ahí tengo un puesto vacante si quieres trabajar conmigo.
- No, tranquilo hermano. Sabes que no me gusta.
- Bueno, cuando cambies de opinión me llamas
- Tranquilo y oye hermano, cuidate mucho. Siempre te he querido. Las cosas están difíciles estos últimos días.
- Si, Yo he escuchado eso, pero tranquilo hermano, también te quiero. Nos vemos pronto...
Se van los dos hermanos, cada quien por su rumbo distinto, Andrés aún vivía con su madre y le comenta a su mamá al llegar a casa que había visto a su hermano.
Pasaron años y ya Andrés se había graduado de ingeniero. Estaba ahorrando y poco a poco se fue comprando su carro, estaba reuniendo para comprar su casa y sacar a la madre adelante cuando un día llega a casa y enciende el televisor y para asombro de él estaban pasando las informaciones del día y ve que policías y ladrones habían tenido un tiroteo en la avenida principal de su ciudad, habían capturado 5 vendedores de droga y murieron 6 en aquel tiroteo. Andrés angustiado llama a su hermano y nadie contestó, a la medio hora volvió a llamar y le contestó un hombre y le dice que vaya a buscar los restos del cuerpo de su hermano. Pedro había muerto en ese hecho...
Ese día Andrés aprendió que las drogas y el dinero habían llevado a su hermano a una bomba de tiempo el cual hizo que su hermano fuera feliz pero por un poco tiempo de su vida. Disfrutó solo la cuarta parte de su vida pero lo que Pedro nunca pensó fue que solo con estudiar tendría dinero durante toda su vida y no tendría problemas, prefirió escoger el camino del dinero rápido y lo rápido que perdió fue la vida....
Andrés con el pasar del tiempo se volvió un Ingeniero muy conocido en su ciudad e incluso logró tener su propia constructora.
La razón por la cual he escrito esta historia es porque hace una semana exactamente me enteré de la muerte de un muchacho que la familia le dió todo para que él fuera una persona ejemplar pero él siempre le gustó tener más de lo que podía tener y eligió el camino de vender drogas. Me asombró saber que aquel muchacho que conocí había muerto a causa de eso y no me quedó otra alternativa que hacer una historia para que cualquier persona pueda leer esto y ver que ese camino no es el indicado...
Un saludo y espero les guste este post.. Con mucho cariño @norellyg
Imágen obtenida por:
I've been cranking out more late night updates to my AutoSteem tool. This new version has a TON of enhancements which I know everyone can use. And these are in response to what people have commented on, asked for as features and chatted with me on in steemit chat, as well as things I've got from my long list of future enhancements.
I really want Autosteem to help you interact on steemit, as well as to have smart voting that supports your favorite content and authors. This release brings several great enhancements for both those areas, so let's get started...
AutoSteem is an an automation tool for voting, curating and better browsing of Steemit! It provides various views including photo and galleries to review new content on steemit and it runs in your browser when left on. You can check it out here, read more about it and have a look, just open it, let it start monitering new posts and then check out the various views.
Thanks to everyone helping report issues and making suggestions, please continue to tell me things you are looking for.
I'm really happy with these new autovoting filters, as based on the feedback, many people wanted to have easier ways to autovote, as well as to support there favorite authors more easily. So, there are some new auto voting tools now to do just that.
Now, with different auto voting modes all built into AutoSteem, it needed to have some improved controls to turn each on and off. Which you can do now with the main Vote Filters page.
The Advanced AutoVote was available in earlier version of Autosteem and your settings for it will be maintained. However, there are a couple new autovote tools, which are much simpler to configure and use.
This one is great to be able to support your favorite authors and to always vote their content, without all the advanced criteria in the advanced mode having to be met. Plus, you can still use your Advanced Autovote, PLUS a few of your favorite authors in this new filter, as they all work simultaneously in Autosteem.
Just hit the configure button to edit each filter now. Here is the Favorite Blogs filters:
You can still use a delay, but with a separate maintain voting %, you can lower this down to ensure you always vote your favorite blogs even if your other filter runs out of voting power. I use 75% on this and 80% for my autovote filter, which ensure there is always room to autovote my favorites! Plus you can set a different vote power, so put 100% here and less in other filters for example.
This new autovoter, does one thing. It copies the votes of others. So, if you know a great curator and love what they vote for, you can copy all of their votes here. Again, set an individual maintain voting % and voting power to use if you would like.
Voting page now shows when voting is paused due to being underpowered for both advanced and blog autovoting.
UpVote Buttons now can be set with a specific Vote Power from the filters page. If you have enough steem power and are a prolific voter, you can use a lower vote %, similar to the vote slider in steemit.
Thanks to @mattclarke and @countrygirl for requesting this great feature. AutoSteem now monitors every post and comment and provides you a view of anyone who mentions you using the @username format. It's a great way to stay engages with anyone who mentions you or your posts, even if they don't reply directly.
I love that some notifications were added now in the main Steemit app as well. Autosteem shows you a list of mentions and keeps that history for you, which augments the new notifications nicely with steemit.
There was a bug with these only showing the first 100 in the tables, so first, this is corrected and the tables show every follower. Also, when you load the followers list, it will now show you any new followers or lost followers since the last time you checked, which is a great way to check out the followers' blogs and see if you want to follow them back.
On the right of these views, there is a copy button you can use to copy and paste your list of followers. Use this to easily copy some of them into your filters.
Thanks to @rubenalexander for this suggestion, you can now click the table headers to sort ascending and click them again to sort in descending order. Works great in the followers tables to find who you are most interested in.
The upper stats bar now shows a bit more about your voting. The Advanced, Blogs and Vote Copy items are from your three voting filters and they will be colored as red or green, so you easily know if each of them is running or not.
The vote queue shows what TYPE of vote each item is so you know.
The vote history page now shows all types of votes, favorites, auto, copy or manual in its list so you can easily review your votes.
Added a search field that uses steemshovel for very nice search results, unlike the built in google search at steemit. @kaptainkrayola
Using this search opens the results in another page, but the results look great so I just had to include this cool service!
This awesome help site is a great resource for all things steemit so I just had to include it. Thanks @thecryptofiend
The voting page that shows live blog posts as they occur was still showing nsfw images. This is now checked and masked out anytime a post is nsfw and you have it set to hidden in your options.
As usual, I'd appreciate any feedback, suggestions, reviews and resteems. I'm hoping the next release will have full browsing of steemit and I have a few other ideas I may implement.
Here's my previous post announcements if you want to explore more of the features outlined in these previous release posts:
What else would you do on a cold, cloudy Saturday than your daily report for the 30 days writing challenge? Of course, nothing else is on par with the deep feeling of satisfaction and fulfillment you get from this. And I'm not being ironic. At all. It's really fulfilling to notice how people are becoming better creators, how they become better at keeping their own promises, how they start to enjoy the benefits of the consistency and persistency they're honing since the beginning of the year.
So, if you don't know about this 30 days writing challenge, scroll down and you'll find out.
Now, let's see the 20th day articles:
Sex Sells💘 - by @creatr
Here are the links to the previous reports:
This project is part of my witness activities here on Steemit. I think a witness should not only maintain the technical and economical components of the platform, but he should also get involved at a community level and improve as many processes as he can.
I'm a serial entrepreneur, blogger and ultrarunner. You can find me mainly on my blog at Dragos Roua where I write about productivity, business, relationships and running. Here on Steemit you may stay updated by following me @dragosroua.
To discover anything new you must start on your own; you must start on a journey completely denuded, especially of knowledge, because it is very easy, through knowledge and belief, to have experiences; but those experiences are merely the products of self-projection and therefore utterly unreal, false. If you are to discover for yourself what is the new, it is no good carrying the burden of the old, especially knowledge -the knowledge of another, however great. You use knowledge as a means of self-projection, security, and you want to be quite sure that you have the same experiences as the Buddha or the Christ or X. But a man who is protecting himself constantly through knowledge is obviously not a truth-seeker.For the discovery of truth there is no path. When you want to find something new, when you are experimenting with anything, your mind has to be very quiet, has it not? If your mind is crowded, filled with facts, knowledge, they act as an impediment to the new; the difficulty for most of us is that the mind has become so important, so predominantly significant, that it interferes constantly with anything that may be new, with anything that may exist simultaneously with the known. Thus knowledge and learning are impediments for those who would seek, for those who would try to understand that which is timeless.
J. Krishnamurti, The Book of Life
Crystal, the wild dog who decided to live in our home for a while here in Bali. 2016