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The first three days are written the same way as the next three. So if we let the language speak to us, all six days were ordinary earth days. . . . The sun is not needed for day and night. What is needed is light and a rotating earth. On the first day of creation, God made light (Genesis 1:3). The Days Inbetween is a low budget, hand-held indie about a group of young Londoners who are trying to steer their lives toward meaning and happiness through a maze of low paying jobs, broken relationships and family tragedy. Confined by a flagging economy and by personal demons, there is every reason to expect hopelessness and despair. There were days And there were days And there were days between Summer flies and August dies The world grows dark and mean Comes the shimmer of the moon On black infested trees The singing man is at his song The holy on their knees The reckless are out wrecking The timid plead their pleas No one knows much more of this Than anyone can see anyone can see There were days And there were days And there were days besides When phantom ships with phantom sails Set to sea on phantom tides Comes the ... Capo 2nd Fret Asus2 There were days Asus2 A Asus2 Em and there were days Em C and there were days between Bm C Summer flies and August dies G D the world grows dark and mean Bm C Comes the shimmer of the moon Bm C on black infested trees D Em the singing man is at his song D Em the holy on their knees A Em The reckless are out wrecking A Em The ... The Roman weekday ‘dies Veneris’ was named after the planet Venus, which in turn took its name from Venus, goddess of love. Detail from Venus and Mars, Botticelli, tempera on panel (c1483). Help and Example Use. Some typical uses for the Date Calculators; API Services for Developers. API for Business Date Calculators; Date Calculators. Time and Date Duration – Calculate duration, with both date and time included; Date Calculator – Add or subtract days, months, years; Weekday Calculator – What Day is this Date?; Birthday Calculator – Find when you are 1 billion seconds old The Head On The Door The Cure - (1985) © 2006 Universal Music Italia srL. :::))___^ - (110) You're signed out. Videos you watch may be added to the TV's watch history and influence TV recommendations. To avoid this, cancel and sign in to YouTube on your computer. Cancel. Confirm.... Days Between Lyrics: There were days / And there were days / And there were days between / Summer flies and August dies / The world grows dark and mean / Comes the shimmer of the moon / On black Easily find out an exact number of days between any two dates with our online calculator. Toggle navigation Toggle search box Calendar-12.com 12 months a year, day by day. Calendars 2020 Calendar 2021 Calendar 2022 Calendar October 2020; November 2020; December 2020; Printable 2020 Printable Calendar ...

2020.10.18 19:28 Odd_directions Hidden camera car sex

I’ve stumbled upon something that concerns everyone, something so disturbing that falling asleep will forever remain a terrifying ordeal to anyone who knows about it. It’s all around us – an omnipresent horror – and yet it’s nowhere to be seen. I’m not here to explain it – I’ll leave that to someone more suited for the task – I’m only here as an involuntary witness.
My awakening, which is what I’ve come to call it, happened yesterday. I was homesick in my small New York apartment. I was on the couch in my underwear watching the news, drowning in tissues and eating cereal even though it was dinner time. It was a typical sick day for a bachelor in his thirties, that is: completely uninteresting. That’s partly why this is so difficult to explain. There weren’t any warning signs, not even an uneasy feeling. I went to bed early, expecting the next day to be a repetition of the day that had passed, and I was lulled to sleep by the ambient sound of the New York traffic outside my window.
Startled, I woke up to the unusual sound of silence. My heart was beating rapidly as if I had already noticed that something was wrong. A bluish, electric light shone through the window like a lightning bolt had been frozen in time outside. I looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand. It said it was midnight, but I soon realized that the clock had stopped.
I felt a bit feverish, but I was clearheaded enough to tell the difference between a dream and reality. The light from outside, combined with the eerie silence, confused me. I got out of bed with a groan. First, I sat on the ledge and tried to collect my thoughts, and then I walked up to the window to see where the light came from.
I expected a huge spotlight pointed at my window, but that wasn’t it. The strange voltaic light covered the entire city, as far as I could see, but even though the light was everywhere it didn’t seem to come from anywhere. Down on the street, I saw that every car had stopped and been abandoned with their doors still open. Did I miss an emergency alert? I couldn’t fathom what was going on.
Two people, a man and a woman, stood on the sidewalk. I was relieved to see them, but after watching them for a while I realized that they weren’t doing anything. They were just standing there, like mannequins. I turned on the TV to see if there were any news about what was going on. They were sending live, which was expected given that the news channel was broadcasting all the time, but the news anchor wasn’t saying anything. She stared into the camera without blinking a single time. The blue-white light from the outside illuminated the right side of her face.
From the left, something strange entered the frame. It looked like a tentacle, but it didn’t have any texture. It was pitch black. It slowly moved toward the woman’s head. Its movements were fluid, almost as if it wasn’t affected by gravity. Even though I knew that the woman was sitting in a studio several miles away, it still felt uncomfortable being stared down by her while that thing approached her from the side. I flinched when the tentacle effortlessly, without causing any physical damage, entered the side of her head. It just phased through it. A shadow from something large nearby fell over her, and then she let out a senseless scream of horror.
I immediately turned the television off, almost dropping the remote. What the fuck was that? My mind was in a disarray. I looked out the window again. The people were still standing there, motionless. I noticed a few more people inside the cars. The traffic lights had stopped, just as my clock. It was as if everything had been frozen in place.
I stepped away from the window. A shadow had appeared on the ground. I carefully peeked outside to see what cast it. It slowly moved into view. I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a huge, squid-like being floating above the ground. I recognized its tentacles from what I had seen on the television. It approached the people standing on the sidewalk and slid two of its tentacles into their heads. They didn’t seem to notice anything of what was going on.
This time, there wasn’t any screaming. The couple just took off all of their clothes and walked away, as if controlled by the being floating above them. I tried to see where it was taking them, but they walked out of view. Next, another black squid appeared. It phased through a building, just as if it didn’t exist on the same plane of existence as ordinary matter. This made me feel unsafe. It meant that there was no way to keep them outside. They could just float into my apartment at any moment.
I sat down with my back against the wall. My thoughts touched upon every possibility I could think of, everything from a sudden onset of insanity to an alien invasion. I crawled into my bathroom and lay down in the tub. It wasn’t safer there, of course, it just felt that way. I couldn’t tell for how long I stayed there, but it must have been for at least half a day. After that, in a blink of an eye, the strange light shining into my apartment disappeared and the sounds of the city returned. I picked up my phone and looked at the display until it finally showed one minute past midnight.
Tired, I climbed up from the tub and looked out the window. Everything seemed to be back to normal. The cars drove by like normal. No one had noticed the mysterious twelve hours that I had just experienced. Except… The couple that had been led away by those beings weren’t there anymore. They never returned.
As you can probably understand, it felt as if my entire world had fallen apart. I quickly put on a pair of sweatpants together with my stained robe and ran outside. People stared at me condescendingly as soon as I exited the building. I didn’t care. I needed answers. Someone must have seen the couple vanish from the sidewalk, I thought. I ran up to a cab and approached the driver.
“Excuse me!” I yelled even though I tried to speak normally. “I live next door and, um–“ The driver looked at me as if I was a meth addict. I didn’t blame him. “Did you see the couple that stood right there?” I pointed at the spot where they had been standing. “I saw them from the window, but–”
“I didn’t see any couple,” the man said.
“Are you sure because–“
“Dude,” he said. “I’ve been staring in that direction since I parked here and I didn’t see any goddamn couple.”
“But they took off their clothes!” I said. “How could you have missed that? Look, the clothes are right there!”
I picked them up from the ground and showed him.
“Hey, dude, don’t bring that trash into my car!”
“But they were right there!” I yelled. “Hey, you there!” I turned to a lady waiting for the bus on the other side of the street. “Did you see the couple standing over there?”
The woman shook her head dismissively.
“Freaking crackhead,” I heard the driver whisper before he drove away from me.
I felt stupid, even though I was sure I was right. The clothes on the ground proved it. I saw that couple take them off. If that was a hallucination, I thought, the clothes wouldn’t be here now. I returned to my apartment and turned on the television again. The news anchor reported on the news, as usual, oblivious of the tentacle in her head that had made her scream earlier.
I sat down on my bed and tried to make sense of what had happened, but I was too tired to think. I hadn’t slept for an entire day worth of time, and yet no time had passed at all. The only thought I managed to produce before I nodded off was that I had been stuck on some kind of surreal crossroads between this day and the day before. I had no idea if that was a proper way to describe it, it was merely how it felt. After I woke up – in the middle of the day – my experience from midnight lingered in my mind.
I managed to think about it a bit more clearly now that I had slept, although I still couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It was just as if the entire world had been put on pause during those hours, allowing those horrible creatures to do whatever they liked to us. I left my apartment to get some air. The woman’s dress was still laying on the street, blowing across the sidewalk with the wind. Did anyone miss her, or had she disappeared from everyone’s mind just as she had disappeared from the world? Questions like that bounced around in my head. I stopped at a street corner and looked up at the sun with squinted eyes. This was something more than even the most far-out theory I could imagine, such as an alien invasion. It concerned reality itself. How else could the entire sky have turned into that strange, electric blue? The normal sky felt off somehow now. It didn’t look any different, but after having seen what I had seen earlier I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was nothing more than a picture projected on a vast screen. It left me with the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped between the walls of a house without an outside. It made me dizzy. I couldn’t stay outside, because it didn’t feel like outside anymore, and I ran home again.
Later, as the watch on my wall slowly approached midnight, I considered taking some sleeping pills. I didn’t want to wake up in the same, strange in-between–day as before. In the end, however, I decided against it. I needed to know if it would happen again or if it had just been a one-time thing. So I sat at my kitchen table, anxiously waiting for the final hour of the day to strike.
The blue light flooded my apartment the same instant the watch on the wall stopped ticking. It wasn’t over. Just moments later, one of the enormous, floating squids passed through my living room. I froze in my place as I watched it exit through the wall on the other side of the room. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. I wanted to escape, to run away, but there was nowhere to go. What if they saw that I had broken free from the state of trance that everyone else seemed to be in. Everyone else? I sneaked over to my computer and watched a live broadcast on the BBC. The same thing was happening there. A man had stopped moving in the middle of an interview, but he was still talking. It wasn’t English, though, but some kind of gibberish. Tower Bridge was visible behind him, and several creatures soared in the air around it. Just to make sure this was a truly global phenomenon, I went to YouTube and clicked my way to a live stream of the Shibuya Crossing in Tokyo. All the cars had stopped, and the black cabs reflected the buzzing, blue sky. The people either stood perfectly still or walked around in strange patterns. One of them laughed hysterically.
A noise came from upstairs. I quickly closed the laptop, afraid that someone might have heard me. It sounded like a struggle. A frail, old lady lived in the apartment above. I couldn’t imagine her being capable of making those sounds. Worrying that she might be in trouble, and also because I wanted some answers, I decided to sneak up to her floor and see what was going on. The hallway outside my front door was silent and vaguely illuminated by the strange light from the outside. Ascending the stairs, the atmosphere got more and more electric. I slowly approached my neighbor’s door and put my ear to it. Her apartment was quiet now. I looked through the letter slot. At first, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but then a flickering shadow on the floor caught my attention. I stood outside the door for a few moments, hesitating, before I decided to try and open it. Perhaps my neighbor was awake just like me, I thought as I slowly turned the doorknob.
“R-ruth?” I whispered.
I didn’t see her, just the strange flickering shadow on top of the Persian carpet. Then I looked up at the ceiling. Ruth, completely undressed, was spinning around at ludicrous speed in the middle of the air. For a few seconds, I just stood there and looked at her in disbelief, but then – which was common for her when she walked down the hallways with her walker – she urinated. The entire room was sprayed with her piss, and some of it landed on my face. I quickly withdrew from there and ran back to my room where I made sure to clean myself.
I looked out the window. Was I truly the only one awake, able to see what was going on? I picked up my phone and tried to make a phone call to a friend. I didn’t expect it to work, but after about five ringtones he picked up. I was overwhelmed with relief.
“Yes?” he said.
“Hey, man, it’s me–“ I said, but was interrupted.
“Yes?” he repeated.
“Are you seeing what is going on?! I mean, it’s like the entire world has turned into–“
“I’m a forester, not a historian.”
“E-excuse me?” I said, feeling my panic coming back.
“Following the direction of the screaming, you’ll find the big, black moose’s head at the entrance of a tunnel.“
He was clearly not himself.
“Come on man, snap out of it!” I said, holding back my tears.
“Please return me to my original form... please.”
He sounded less robotic now. Did I somehow wake him up?
“You there, man?!” I yelled. “Stay with me, okay, I’ll–“
“The muscles of my limbs are stretched to their limits.”
He was sobbing now, whispering the words into his phone.
“Are you hurt, man?” I asked. “Did one of those creatures–“
“As I am dying, my internal organs shift inside…”
He was crying now.
“Shit, man…” I didn’t know what more to say. “Listen, don’t go anywhere.” I looked around for my car keys. “I’m coming to–“
“I can feel them shifting in my flesh, and the sheer mass of it is so great that it shakes the grounds as I stagger and tremble to my feet.” I listened to him while I grabbed my car keys from the cabinet in the living room. “If only there were a way I could stop the things in front of me!”
“W-what,” I said, “what’s in front of you?!”
“The smell of blood surrounds me.” He kept talking as if he didn’t hear me. “Blood and death. It’s everywhere. Bodies of the living are coagulated and blood gushes from their wounds.”
“Are you at your place?”
“Yes?”
The dullness in his voice was back.
“Stay with me, man!” I said. “Don’t–“
“I’m a forester, not a historian.”
“What does that mean?!” I yelled. “I’m coming!”
The only response I got to that was a petrifying scream, and then the phone call ended abruptly.
Outside, I immediately noticed the lack of weather. There weren’t any winds, and the temperature was the same as inside. The pigeons on the sidewalk had stopped, just as if someone had put them on pause, and a little boy stood in the street corner making jazz-hands over and over and over again while blood dripped from his nose. I didn’t know how to blend in since everyone was acting erratically, so I didn’t even try. I just ran to my car, put the key in, and started the engine. But before I could drive away, the little boy jumped in front of the car – still making jazz-hands – and blocked my way. More people gathered around the car, mumbling nonsensical words.
I climbed on top of my car through the sunroof. An airplane was frozen in the middle of the sky and one of the horrifying creatures was leading one of the passengers outside with its tentacles. I had nowhere to go. The people weren’t attacking me, but they made sure I couldn’t escape from where I was. One of the creatures came floating by, casting its enormous shadow on the street. Did they know about me? I stood on my car's roof, yelling at the people to wake up until my voice failed me.
“Why aren’t you listening to me?!”
“You’re crazy!” someone yelled back.
“That’s why you’re in my room!” a little girl yelled. “Get the fuck out.” She laughed. “Also, this is why I’m still here, doing this shit.”
“But you’re not saying anything!” an old man yelled at me.
I sat down and put my face in my hands, giving up my attempts at reaching out to the people. It’s hard to say how much time passed while I sat on the roof of my car like this, but I eventually stood up again – ready to jump over the crowd.
One of the creatures ominously appeared from beneath the ground, just a few hundred meters away from me. It floated toward me, reaching for me with its enormous tentacles. Although it was moving relatively slow, I would never have been able to run away from it on foot. Its ability to phase through anything made that impossible. The closer it came, the more electricity filled the air. My hair stood on end, positive charges rising through me. I climbed into my car again, turned on the engine again, and – acting purely out of desperation – put it into reverse gear and hit the pedal as hard as I could.
The crowd dispersed quickly, but I still felt a small bump under my tires. I didn’t have time to think, I wasn’t going to let that beast penetrate my brain with one of its hideous tentacles. I swung the car around and zigzagged between the cars in front of me until I reached a relatively empty pedestrian street where I hit the gas as hard as I could. Two of the creatures phased through the buildings next to me, and several more descended toward me from the sky.
I drove around for a long time, hopelessly trying to escape the monsters that relentlessly chased after me. I only stopped once to push a stroller off the sidewalk I was driving on. The baby inside it was wailing, but no sound came from its mouth.
I drove past individuals partaking in the most bizarre behaviors I had ever seen in my entire life, the least weird being a young woman in a business suit having sex with an old taxi driver on the hood of his car. From there, it only got worse; a middle-aged man was binge eating all the fecal matter he could find inside a dog park, a two-hundred-pound man was standing on his head with an eerie grin on his face, a teenage girl was holding her own eye – still connected to her skull – in her hand, watching herself sing a lullaby.
Manhattan, as well as the rest of the world, had turned into a living nightmare under the oppressive presence of the black, giant squids. I thought about the people around me, and everyone else as well. Tomorrow, they wouldn’t remember anything. To them, it would be just as if it had never happened at all. But it did happen, that guy really did fill his mouth with dog turds and that lady really did have sex with that old man… For how long has this been going on? I had no answers to my questions, just more questions. Have I been acting like this between the days as well, perhaps for my entire life? The thought of it made my stomach turn.
I took a sharp turn onto Park Row, aiming for the Brooklyn Bridge. When I got there, I stopped in the middle of it. Several creatures approached me from both ends. There was nowhere for me to go. The East River reflected the galvanizing sky and turned into a shining, white silver. I walked over to the edge and grabbed the railing with both hands. For the first time in my life, I contemplated ending it all.
A little girl came up to me. For a moment, I thought she would try to comfort me, but all she said was:
“As a symbol of Farölk, they used to put me on my knees before I was old enough to drink wine so that I could be taught the true form of Farölk.”
Listing to her nonsense, I began climbing the railing.
“The ancient gods have made it so that the world is blind to their power.” She didn’t take any breaths while talking, the words just streamed out of her little drooling mouth completely unhindered. “These gods are both power-hungry and charming. Although these malevolent beings are relentless in their goal to rule everything, none are the true monarch of a ravaged world. They are insidious creatures that impose their will on the living and shape their nature, acting as constant tempters in their perceived petty struggles. This is the true danger of these gods. They work, they speak, they spy, they manipulate, they–“
She stopped mid sentenced and returned to the car she had gotten out of. Everyone seemed to be returning to their original positions, spitting out whatever they had put in their mouths and adjusting their clothes. The creatures were almost upon me now, but then – in an instant – the midnight sky came back and the airplanes in the sky shot forward without any need to accelerate, just as if they hadn’t stopped at all… and the creatures vanished just before their tentacles reached me. I climbed down on the sidewalk again and burst into tears. The little girl looked at me from the car, just as if she had never seen me before in her life.
My friend, who lived near Fort Greene Park, opened his door – surprised to see my exhausted face at this late hour. There were no indications of a struggle, he was perfectly fine. I urged him to check his phone. Confused, he picked it up.
“Can you see if you received a phone call from me in the past few hours or so?” I said, hoping there would be some evidence.
“No, there’s nothing–“
“Goddamnit!” I said. “I was hoping–“
“Hey, what’s going on with you?” he said with sympathy in his eyes. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay, it’s just that… Well, I don’t even know where to begin to be honest.”
“Why don’t you try from the start,” he said and paused the game he had been playing on his Xbox.
I told him everything, albeit a bit incoherently.
“Are you on drugs?!” he said. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and – trust me – I’ve heard a lot of crazy shit.”
“I didn’t expect you to believe me,” I said. “But during this… this day between the days, I really did call you and you picked up. I really thought I got through to you. You said something about… something about not being a historian, but a forester.”
“Wait, woah!” my friend said, suddenly pale. “What did you just say?” His lower lip trembled with a fear I hadn’t seen in his eyes before. “Did you just say…”
“You kept repeating it: ‘I’m a forester, not a historian’,” I said.
“I-I just… Just now when I was playing video games, I had this déjà vu to a dream I thought I must have forgotten a long time ago. I was talking to someone, and my body was twisted in some macabre way. It was freaky! There was blood everywhere, and I remember saying those exact words: I’m a forester, not a historian.”
“It wasn’t a dream, man!” I said. “It was me, you were talking to me on the phone and you said those words.”
He walked over to the window.
“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary,” he said.
“This isn’t something you would see just by looking through your window,” I said. “It’s completely hidden from the world. You only experience day and night, not what happens in-between!”
I sat down on my friend's sofa and turned on the news. They were reporting from a crime scene.
“Wait, that’s outside my place,” I said. “What’s going on?”
There was a picture of me on the screen, wanted for a hit-and-run. The victim was a little boy. It was the kid making jazz-hands. They displayed a city map, showing the crash location and a red line going from my place to the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge.
“Several police cars were involved in the chase,” the reporter said, “but lost track of the subject after he exited his car on the bridge–“
My friend walked over to me. I quickly turned off the TV before he saw my face on it.
“What was that?” he said.
“N-nothing,” I said. “Just some car accident near my place.”
But it wasn’t nothing. It was them, the creatures, trying to manipulate everyone into doing their bidding. I’m hiding at a McDonalds right now. I have nowhere to go, chased both during the days and in-between them. Nowhere to go except maybe another edge to jump off from
submitted by Odd_directions to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.10.06 00:18 500scnds Car hidden sex camera

Source | Previous table
Questions Answers
How did you type all this? I can touch type. It's an essential skill.
the below is a reply to the above
Do you have some type of software that reads certain things out? I wasn’t trying to be rude so my apologies, just very curious/interested! Hats off to you. Sure, I use a screenreader. It's a piece of software that uses synthesised speech to read back what's on the screen. And I navigate using the keyboard rather than a mouse.
Thank you for doing this AMA! Its really fascinating and I'm learning a lot! I noticed in some of your comments you said you enjoy cooking. In my own experience, cooking and baking are extremely visual activities (for example, like knowing when a pancake is ready to be flipped, or properly cleaning and preparing a chicken, or when ground beef has been cooked completely). I would imagine that you use taste, touch, and smell, to guide you through some aspects of cooking. But even then, the information you could possibly get is still limited. What do you specifically look for as indicators to help you cook? I'm also interested in what dishes you find the easiest to make and what dishes you find the most difficult. All of that information you can get non-visually. You can tell ground bief is cooked by the texture when you touch it with a spoon. Other things by the smell. It's not more limited, it's just an alternative method.
I love experimenting with different things, I went through a phase of baking lots of bread. At the moment I'm into building complex salads and working on really healthy recipes. I cooked a meal for 60 people, that was pretty intense!
whose voice is reading my question to you? A very synthesised American voice.
Does colour mean anything to you ? Not really, it's an abstract concept.
Do you watch or should I say listen to porn? Nah, it just doesn't do anything for me.
As someone who plays video games and watch shows to kill time when I’m bored, I never thought about what a blind person would do to kill time when they’re bored other than listening to music. What do you do to pass time? Read, watch films and tv, mindlessly browse the internet. There are also audio games, and it's possible to play some regular games if you're blind, but I'm not really a gamer.
How has voice technology (like Siri or Google Assistant) changed the way you interact with things (if you use it at all)? If you have it: how has it made life better or worse? If you don't have it: why not? It's convenient because I can set a timer when cooking hands free! But also, something like an echo dot is designed to be used without vision, so I'm not actually having to deal with an accessibility barrier. I get exactly the same functionality from it that a sighted person does, and that is an important consideration.
how has the covid-19 pandemic affected you, as a blind person specifically/differently? Not so much now. At first my concern was in relation to grocery delivery services. I didn't want to go to the supermarket because many places were refusing to provide assistance, but also everyone was using delivery services, so slots weren't easily accessible for those of us who really needed them. It's calmed down quite a bit now though.
Another issue relates to accessible information. A lot of the stats are shown as images, with no explanation. Which means we're shut out from accessing what could be very crucial info.
Do you experience any visuals in your mind? For example, like when you dream? I don't. I've never been able to see so this is impossible for me.
Based on your life so far and what you have learned from others what is your favorite color? I don't have one. I usually say purple just because people demand an answer and it's easier to give them one.
Do you like puppies? I do.
What is it like to move around. Is it hard and do you feel out a room as you walk through it? It's not hard because I've always been blind so know how to navigate as a blind person. When outside I travel using a white cane, this is also true if I'm inside buildings like shops etc. But if I'm at my house or friends houses I just walk around and learn where things are.
What’s something people do/say that is ableist but not commonly acknowledged as such? How can sighted people be better allies to blind people? "You do so well for a blind person," has to be one of the most rude things people can say. Because what they're saying is that actually, they don't expect blind people to be doing very well at all, so the fact that I'm a moderately functional adult who doesn't get enough sleep, drinks too much coffee and is constantly stressed is a very very good thing. When I'm actually very typical for someone in their mid 20's.
Just treat blind people like people, and support us with fighting for accessibility and equal rights. That really is the best way to be an ally.
As someone how may go blind I always wondered if there was a fear of “the dark” or does it fade a bit? I'm not sure honestly. I've always been blind, so it's normal to me. I do know people who lost their vision who have really happy, secure lives.
Is sex more intense for you? And do you have sex with other blind people, if not how does it feel when you cant see the other person but he can see you naked? It honestly depends who I'm having sex with. I don't really worry if they can see me and I can't. I've had good and bad experiences, with both blind nad sighted people.
Do you listen to old radio plays? I had a period of time prior to a cataract surgery where my photosensitivity was so intense I mostly lived in total darkness, and these were my favourite forms of free entertainment. I am old enough that I listened to them on radio, although most were rebroadcasts. Also, do you usually wear any kind of sunglasses or such? If so, for your own benefit, or to make people feel more comfortable? I listened to a lot of plays in the early 2000s when I was a kid because only a fraction of books were published in braille. Audio books were expensive and also only a few books became audio. These days I listen to less of them because with things like Kindle I can read almost anything, but they were a wonderful and necessary part of my childhood that I am very thankful I was able to experience.
I have light perception so I wear sunglasses when it's really bright, but not for the comfort of others. I think if my eyes make people uncomfortable it's something they should address within themselves.
Is the halo effect a noticeable phenomenon for you as an arguably perfectly objective observer of sighted people? Have you ever been in a situation and just known that someone is physically attractive based on being inexplicably treated more favourably by others than could be reasonably expected? How do you feel about this in general? I think so. I definitely noticed this in school. My perception is that people gravitate towards someone who is deemed to be physically attractive, but I don't know if that is true.
Have you ever fired a firearm or played with a sword? I haven't. I considered going to a shooting range when I lived in the US but never did.
When browsing the web -- do ads really screw with your screen reader? Do you use an adblocker? They do, and yes I do.
If you could tell the world one thing what would it be? About blindness? Treat me like any other adult.
Not about blindness. Use your vote.
What's your favorite place to get a burrito? I live in England where burritos are sadly lacking, but now I really want one.
Would you consider trying psychedelics and reporting back your experiences? I've tried them before. Really weird, honestly. Mostly auditory but also some physical sensations.
Do you understand racism? Also what's your favorite song? By understand, I think it's wrong, but I understand it as a concept. RAcism isn't really about being able to see colour, it's associating a race with a positive or negative set of attributes. Blind people are just as capable of being racist.
In terms of songs I don't really have a favourite, I've been listening to I and love and you by the Avett Brothers a lot recently.
I was always wondering about this one. There are days when I "overlisten" to music or sounds get pounded and louder until I can't stand it and I need to shut it out. I would go several days without music or wear noise cancelling headphones to get myself disconnected. It sometimes happens with my vision, where it's just too much information and my brain needs a break. So I'm wondering what's it like in your case, if you've ever experienced something like that? Where there's too much sensory information and you need to shut it out but you need it to get around? And another extremely random one. I work and architecture and was trying to figure out how someone would go about designing a house while blind. Besides textures, how would you try and build a house for yourself if you could? That sounds like sensory processing disorder, which I have experienced aspects of yes.
I'm not sure, definitely lots of outside space and a big kitchen, but those are because of my love of being outside and also of cooking, more than blindness!
So this might sound weird, but my friends have a year old daughter who is blind. What kind of playing made you happiest as a kid? Climbing, playing football, running about. Just normal kid stuff.
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So two questions: you mentioned that you travelled to a couple of countries. To us, travel is a very visual experience, what is it to you? How do you experience the travel experience itself? Travelling to me is experiencing all aspects of the culture. It doesn't have to be visual. You can meet people, go to a city, go to a park, go hiking. These are all part of it.
We see your inability to see as an impairment or disability out of our ignorance, what do you think seeing people lack? What is our disability? I think we have to be careful and not view something like a lack of understanding as a disability. I am blind, and blindness is my impairment. But I'm disabled because the world around me isn't accessible.
ok 3rd one, out of the countries you visited, which one of them you felt a bit more challenged than the other ones? In terms of the countries they all had positives and negatives. Colombia was definitely a new experience, but it was also my favourite place to live.
What is imagination for you? That's difficult to answer. If you mean how do I imagine, through my other senses. But as to what it is, I'm not sure. It seems to be an essential part of who we are as humans.
What do you see in today's society that you dislike? I'm not sure this is just a problem with today's society, but ignorance and denial regarding the reality of the world we live in.
My sons (age 10) are really good friends with a boy who has been blind since birth. My sons have gone to his house a few times and have had a lot of fun. I would like for him to come here, but it makes me nervous. I worry that he'll get bored or be uncomfortable. As a child, what were some of your favorite experiences with sighted friends and their family? Being welcomed in to everyday activities. My best experiences were with people who didn't worry, who let me run around and play, who let me climb and mess about with my friends. But who also set boundaries, who told me to be quiet or to stop running, like they would any other child. Basically the best thing you can do is welcome him and treat him like any other kid.
Will you have children of your own even if you have a 50% chance of passing on your genetic mutation? My mother in law is blind and she passed retinoblastoma on to all 4 of her children even though each birth was a 50% chance. They all were able to retain vision though 2 had to have an eye enucleated. Later in those same 2 passed away from associated secondary cancers in the 20s and 30s bc they received radiation to stop the tumours (inherited is bilateral). I am pregnant with a baby girl who inherited the genetic mutation and at 36 weeks will deliver so they can monitor and treat the tumours. Being induced early allows the critical growth stage of 36 to 42 weeks gestation to be monitored and treated. Prognosis is good and it's considered 97% treatable but I cant help feeling that I am doing a disservice by continuing the horrible legacy of retinoblastoma. And also I wonder how she would feel knowing if she wants to naturally have children she will have a 50% chance of passing the mutation on to offspring. I would. I will pass the LCA gene on to any child I have, but my partner would have to be a carrier for us to have a blind child. Even if my child is blind I'd know how to raise them. I could teach them to read, to travel, to do anything they wanted to. I understand it's more complex with something like RB, but I think you have to do whatever feels right for you.
Do you play any instruments? If so, which instrument(s)? I used to play the clarinet but haven't in years. I was never very good at music.
If there was an option for surgery that granted you sight, would you consider it? I wouldn't, it doesn't interest me.
What are some UI changes reddit could make to improve accessibility for the blind? What are some things other sites often do which make them difficult for you to read and navigate? Reddit is honestly a bit of a clusterfuck. It's accessible enough, but sometimes the focus of my screenreader jumps around. There also aren't many headings used, which is the primary way screenreaders navigate online content, so it's a pain to find the section of the page that you want. In terms of other sites a lack of alt text is a huge problem. We convey so much information through images, but if it isn't tagged correctly a blind person misses all of it.
What would be the best way to interact with a blind person? Like let's say you went inside a new building and people there knew you were blind would you be offended if they offered to help you find your way? Or tell you how many steps there are or watch out for things that may be in your way? Would that come off as overbearing? It's annoying when people constantly tell me, because it's actually distracting. If someone offers that's fine, so long as they listen when I say no.
Which genders are you attracted to? When did you realize you were attracted to them and what was it about them Both, though men more than women. I'm not sure, I guess I was a pre-teen and I started to have crushes on people.
i watched a video of a blind woman with her seeing eye dog and a hidden camera try to find her way around a mall that she'd never been to before. it was so funny to watch the employees point as if she could see or the dog could understand what was going on. there was, eventually, one woman who walked her to the perfumes/jewelry and entrance so that her dog would understand and so that she knew the amount of steps that it should take. do you have these experiences often where people are just, unintentionally, entirely unhelpful? All the time. You just get used to it. Also, we don't actually count steps, we may have good spacial awareness and can tell approximately how much distance we've travelled, but step counting is a bit of a myth.
[deleted] I do. If she's in the United States I really recommend that she reaches out to the National Federation of the Blind to find out about their training centers. The Colorado Center for the Blind made a huge difference to my life.
Why did the moderators remove this? u/mmm_toasty could you perchance let us know? Because I can't hold up a sign with my username...because obviously I can't write. Unless they want it in braille?
Maybe this is question is better suited to those who raised you, but do you know if there was anything atypical about your language development? I read a case study about a blind toddler’s unusual syntax once and found it really interesting. I'm very interested in this too. I had fairly advanced language development, which I know through speaking with my parents and reading school and medical reports. Many congenitally blind children do have atypical language development though.
What parenting tips would you suggest to someone who has a young child who is blind or losing sight? Have high expectations, don't expect less of them because they are blind. Expect them to do chores around the house, to work hard in school and to be polite. They can and should do these things.
I occasionally see the same blind man on the sidewalk navigating the DC metro and city streets. I believe he lives around my work. Sometimes he looks completely lost. I have on a few occasions guided him to the correct train or set of stairs. He just says thank you and continues on. Is there anything else I could do to help him or be a good samaritan to other blind folks in the city? Asking is honestly the best thing. Either the blind person will need assistance or they won't. It's worse to assume that someone does when they might not, so I feel that by asking you're already doing the right thing.
So I know I am very late to the AMA party here, but hopefully you still are able to answer this for me. I'm a police officer in the US in an area where we don't have a very large blind/deaf/etc community. What are some good things to know as a cop so that I can better interact with the blind? Especially, of course, victims who need to report crimes. But either witnesses who may have info or even perpetrators. I've read almost this entire thread and with some of your answers to other questions, I can only imagine how blind people may be treated by uninformed or wilfully ignorant officers. This is such an important question, thank you for asking. Firstly, the biggest thing is to view them as credible. Obviously a blind person is capable of lying, but they aren't automatically less credible just because they can't give you a visual account of what has happened. This is a particularly pervasive problem in cases that involve sexual assault.
Also, if you're approaching a blind person in the street because there's a situation, it's good to identify yourself as an officer. I have no way of knowing if the person is a random stranger, who I might brush off, or a police officer unless they tell you. Some blind people will want to be given your badge, to see if you have one, or take your ID number. Try not to be upset or angry, it isn't that we don't believe you, just again that we can't visually verify what you're saying.
This is an interesting AMA. Thanks for doing this. My question, If it was possible through new technology to give you vision, let's say through an implant that records wavelengths of light and transmits the information to your brain allowing you to see in perfect 20/20 vision. (I am not familiar with what caused your blindness, so let's assume we are able to bypass it) It's a completely safe surgery, but the implant is permanent. Would you do it? No, I wouldn't. My brain has adapted to my blindness, and I feel like getting vision would be really disruptive and uncomfortable.
As a parent it would cause me a lot of pain to think about my child being blind. Have you ever discussed how your parents felt with them? Yes, if it does upset them, they don't show it which is so, so important. I would have hated growing up, knowing my parents wished I was someone else.
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Becoming a parent comes with a range of emotions they don't warn us about and we can't prevent. Your parents would never wish you to be someone else, they world just want take away anything that might cause you pain. It is good to hear you had the support and love you needed. Absolutely, but you also owe it to your child to keep some of those feelings from them. It's really damaging to know that people around you would change a fundamental part of who you are. Absolutely a parent should seek support when they have these feelings, but it should never be made obvious to the child.
Are you religious? Has anyone prayed for you to see? If someone offered would you be open to it? If yes, do you think other blind people would? I'm not, if people are going to pray, I'd rather they pray I actually have a happy and meaningful life. I have no interest in seeing, some blind people do and that's totally their right.
When you masturbate what do you mentally picture? Depends. If I'm in a relationship at the time I'll often think about that person and things they've said or done.
Do you depend on someone else or did you figure out on how to do normal every day activities that people take for granted on your own? I can do pretty much anything alone. I can cook, clean, do my laundry, travel to and from work etc. The only thing I can't do is drive, so I'll take busses and trains or use Uber sometimes.
This could have already been asked, there's so much knowledge we all want to glean from you. Have you ever thought about or done a race, running, biking, swimming, or anything where you have a guide? There's some great races where you can feel the wind on your face and the sound of the trees around you. I guess it doesn't have to be a race. Just how much have you been able to feel the wind and the trees. Thank you for answering all of our questions. My respect on one, putting yourself out there and answering personal questions, and also being a complete boss on your answers. Sure, thanks for reading. I love more extreme sports, so I've been skydiving and paragliding for example. I'd love to do more things like that. I also really enjoy skiing and tandem cycling.
I hope I don't sound rude, but how do you (or blind people in general) know where to go especially in a big city? Is it difficult to find shops and run errands without getting lost? Bonus question: How do service dogs know where you want to go? Like if you wanted to go to a specific restaurant for example, how does a service dog aid in getting you there? I know by exploring, by asking questions, by learning about the layout of the city. And service dogs receive instruction from the handler. The dog doesn't actually know where it's going, it is the handlers job to give it commands like find left, or find right.
What do you enjoy about traveling? For me it’s the scenery. But also foods a big one. I imagine being blind, food would be the main reason. Also has anyone tried using sign language to communicate with you? I honestly worry about that misunderstanding alot Haha maybe they have but I just didn't see them. I have been asked if I know it though!
And the food, meeting people, visiting different places like museums and parks, the whole aspect of immersing yourself in another culture.
Is the experience of sight something you wish deeply you could do? Or does the fact that you’ve never experienced it make it seem very foreign and intimidating? It definitely feels overwhelming to the point where I wouldn't take a cure if it was offered to me.
While living in the US, did you find it a relatively accessible country or no? Also, I started watching your YouTube videos, and they’re great! Super informational. Makes me want to sign up as a volunteer for Be My Eyes :) Thank you, I'm so glad that you are enjoying them. If you have any video topic requests, feel free to leave a comment on one of my videos as I may not see it in this thread as it's so big.
It was fairly accessible, as with most places, the attitudes of others were the biggest barrier I faced. People not believing I could do something, rather than be actually not being able to do it.
Do you still have Isla the guide dog? If so, was she already trained? What signals do they give to let you know there is steps, a road? I don't. She retired last year, but she's living a very happy life with some friends of mine. She was trained when I got her, they are trained to stop at roads and steps.
This rivets me. My mom went blind on and off through her life. Glaucoma and surgeries. She only sometimes had sight in one because she lost the other to cataracts. Anyway. I was her eyes. I knew how to help her, somehow. Have you ever had a person you let be your eyes? To a point, sometimes I'll ask people for visual information. But I wouldn't want to create a relationship where it's expected, I think it can result in some uncomfortable power dynamics. I'd rather get that info from a paid service like Aira. This is just my personal preference.
How would you rate reddit's accessiblity? Kind of a pain, honestly.
Was learning Braille hard? Is Braille the same in other countries outside of the UK? It wasn't because I was very young, so it was just like a sighted child learning print.
This doesn't have an easy answer. Broadly it's the same. The letters A to Z are the same in all languages that use the Latin alphabet, much like they are in print.
However, most languages have what is known as contracted, or grade 2, braille. So one character might represent several letters. In English, we have such a character for er, or the, or wh. Because these are common letter combinations. Grade 2 in French will be different, as will grade 2 in German.
English speaking countries have also had some variation when it comes to more advanced presentation rules, and certainly braille mathematics. That is why in the early 2000s Unified English Braille was created. With increases in electronic braille production, it was viewed as important to create a unified code, so that electronic braille could easily be shared between English speaking countries, and so there wouldn't be these small variations.
You mentioned you love books. You also mentioned that books that are meant to be realistic, but have poor depictions of blind characters frustrate you. Have you read "All the Light We Cannot See" by Anthony Doerr, and if so, how did you feel about the depiction of the blind girl? I honestly thought it was a bit ridiculous, but not the worst I've read.
Have you ever tried to draw anything from your imagination and if so, what did you draw? Could you visualise the drawing after you drew it based on the shapes? I'm horrible at drawing. I've tried on paper where the lines then are raised, but I'm just not coordinated enough. I struggle to even draw a circle unless I can draw around something.
Are there any questions you get that you are tired of or are just like what the hell? Also what's a question that you never have been asked but want to answer? Honestly how I use a computer. It's exhausting that most people still don't know this.
And not really, I do find the deeper, more thoughtful questions interesting though.
Are heights or flying scary at all to you? I actually don't like heights, so I've done things like skydiving and paragliding because I need to get over myself.
Do you make facial expressions? If you do, does that mean a smile when we’re happy is built into us. I do. I can't tell you how I know them, I just do.
Do you think you compare yourself to people less than those of us who are sighted? So much of the standard women hold themselves to seems visual to me. Weight, beauty, aging, fashion... I imagine you not to be bombarded with these standards, advertisements, social media visuals. Do you feel less pressure on these things than you imagine we do? I still feel a huge amount of pressure, compounded by not being able to compare myself. I have to ask people about my own appearance, which then makes me worry that they aren't completely truthful. Even if they are, it's their perception. I'll never have my own true perception of myself, because it's always filtered through information I'm given by others.
Is there an equivalent of line graphs and charts that blind people can use? For example did you understand the concept of exponential growth at the start of the Covid-19 crisis? You can plot these using tactile graph papers. There are audio graphs, which can give an overview of the information.
Do you own a printer, 2d or 3d. Can you read print text if its embossed? I can sort of read print if it's embossed, but often I forget the shapes of the letters and have to be reminded. I don't currently own a printer, I usually go to a library if I need a document printing.
i glanced over a couple of your youtube videos, and i noticed your eyeballs sort of wobble back and forth as if you're reading text with your eyes. is that a part of your genetic disorder? or are you doing that consciously, if so why? It's known as nystagmus. It can exist as a condition on its own, but often it goes hand in hand with other eye diseases, particularly forms of congenital blindness. Essentially I have no control over the muscles in my eyes so these are involuntary movements.
To piggyback off the person asking about software accessibility - do you ever spend time with software on a non-personal device - like a public kiosk? Are you able to use the product if there is no headphone jack? If it has audio output yes. But I would only use something like an ATM if it had a headphone jack so that I could access the information in a confidential manner.
What software do you use, especially for email? My mother is blind, stubborn, and cantankerous, always has been even before blindness. She uses an ancient version of JAWS and refuses to update, and I'd love to know what options are out there. Jaws is good but she'd be better off using the latest version with win10. I use NVDA because it's free, and VoiceOver on my iPhone.
Are you often browsing on reddit? And if so, what subreddits do you visit? (You don't have to list any of them if they are too private) Dogs, blind and the not the onion are some of my favourites. Also just browsing random things. Reddit is kind of a pain in terms of accessibility, so I honestly go elsewhere for chat, which is a shame because I like the people here.
I'm actually curious about how Blind People can use computers and how you can read our questions. I'm guessing a special machine is involved, but how does it work ? I use a screenreader, a piece of software that uses synthesised speech to read out what's on the screen. I also touch type and navigate using a keyboard instead of the mouse.
Have you ever thought deeply that being blind was going to affect all your life and had a breakdown or were really depressed? There have been times. Mostly when a certain aspect of my life isn't going well, so it's easy to attribute it all to blindness. When really there are usually many factors at play.
Have you ever tried the app “be my eyes”? It is an interesting app I found for helping with tasks. I thought it would be great to help out a blind or visually impaired person. I’ve only connected with someone once but I’d love to help more. I have tried it, it can be really useful in certain situations.
How was your experience in Colombia? For how long did you live there? I loved it, I lived there for a year and it was the best year of my life. I loved everything about Colombian culture and the friends I made there. Also, is your username because of In the Heights, or just a coincidence?
Do you ever feel self conscious about what you look like to others? I do, I'm still under the same pressure other people are to look a certain way. I also feel more pressure because if I don't look good, maybe people will attribute that to my blindness and just assume I don't know how.
What are some things that you have done that a person who isn't blind, thinks that a blind person wouldn't/couldn't/shouldn't do? Honestly most things, because people have such low expectations of blind people. Travel, get a job, move away from home, just have a normal adult life.
Looks like the mods want proof. How do you plan to do this blind? I'm not sure how to submit proof to them? I have all my documentation if they want it!
Do you ever listen to audiobooks? If so, what’s your favourite? I do, maybe the His Dark Materials trilogy. I love so many books though.
How do audiobooks and films (with audio description) compare to each other, is there one your prefer? I prefer books but I think that's personality, more than blindness. My sighted sister also prefers books to tv. We both grew up reading a lot as children.
How do you perceive colours when you haven't seen them? When someone says "I have a red car", what do you imagine? I don't, I just accept it as a fact and file it away.
Do you get motion sickness? On a roller coaster, a car, a boat or a plane? Or any other way of travel? I don't personally.
Is there anything that we (i.e. the general public) can do to make things easier for you when out and about, without being patronising? I know you are certainly neither stupid nor incapable, but just wondering what I can do to be more considerate perhaps. Mostly just asking rather than assuming someone needs help, then listening to the answer that is given. Being grabbed is the worst.
Hi, I am the father of a 5-month old who was also just diagnosed with LCA. What are some of the things that you wish your parents would have done differently as they were raising you? Edit: also, I understand that someone with LCA has that uncontrollable urge to press/rub their eyeballs, which my baby is doing every 10 seconds, why is that so and how best to stop it? Hi, it's so great to meet other LCA families. I really wish they'd encouraged me to use a cane far more than they did. Developing those skills at a young age is really critical and makes for a much easier transition into adult life. If you'd like to reach out feel free to do so, I've included a lot of links in my original post and I'm happy to answer more questions, but as this thread is huge I might miss them here.
Hi CatchTheseWords, Hope your day finds you well. Do you find or have others commented your senses are better than the sighted? For instance do you find people can’t hear things when you can? And if so...ever considered being a super hero? Cheers! I'd love to say it was as easy as just deciding to be a superhero! My other senses aren't any better, I just pay attention to them more.
When you were younger, did other children ever bully you for being blind or take advantage of your blindness to bully you more easily? This happened mostly when I was in primary school.
It's great that you are self-reliant. But I cannot resist assuming there have been people in your life who must have given you the maximum amount of information about the world around you that couldn't have perceived unless you saw it yourself or unless somebody explained it to you. Who are these people and how did they help you understand the world? Honestly mostly it was books. I learnt a lot about body language, or how things look, by reading about them. I'm also very lucky to have lots of people in my life who will answer questions if I ask them. My parents for example have always been very open with information.
And my orientation and mobility teachers who taught me to use a cane, and who encouraged me to explore my environment.
How's the quality on audio description for visual media? Do you feel you're getting a good representation of what's happening on screen? Overall I feel the quality is high, and I usually get the information I need. Having said that, I've no way of knowing if details are left out, because I wouldn't know they were there unless someone told me.
I am a developer who create apps for use. How is modern technology assisting with additional needs for you? Is there additional improvements you see that could help bring internet within your reach easier? Really complying with existing accessibility guidelines is the biggest thing, and conducting accessibility testing. Technology can remove so many barriers, but if it isn't designed to function with assistive technology it can create barriers as well.
What comes to mind when you think of racism? White conservative assholes.
If I’m going through a door and I see a blind person approaching do I hold the door for them? Do I say “I got the door.”? Definitely say you have it, otherwise we're likely to put our hand out for it and find it's not there. It's totally fine to hold the door, equally, if you're in a rush don't feel guilty for not holding it.
i've seen some blind people click their tongues or their fingers to sort of echo locate. kind of like daredevil. i've seen blind people navigate without a cane. can you do that and if so to what extent? Navigation without a cane, unless in an environment like someone's house, is really dangerous. It's not a mark of success or achievement to do that, because with echo location you can still miss a hole in the ground and fall in it.
But yeah, I can echo locate, though mostly I do it passively. So for example by tapping my cane I can use that echo to gain certain information about my environment.
Do you drink alcohol? What is your experience like when/if you have? I do. Usually just the usual embarrassment most people experience.
Who was your best teacher? There were so so many. Honestly I was lucky to have wonderful teachers who all taught me so many things, not just about their particular subject, but life in general.
What software and browser-extensions are you using right now to do this AMA? What is your favorite piece of tech. Firefox, and NVDA is the screenreader. I just use a regular PC and iPhone.
How do you want new people, such as a coworker to ask about your blindness? Just be really open about it. I'd rather someone was direct than was clearly uncomfortable and didn't want to ask. Equally, remember that the person is more than just their blindness, so don't centre it in every conversation.
What does the Cosmos mean to you? Like how do you imagine the Cosmos outside of our own planet? Ask the stars, galaxies and stuff? Do these interest you? It's very, very interesting to me. My greatest disappointment is knowing that I will probably never travel into space and experience it for myself.
Being a sighted person, I sometimes think that sight is too easy to rely on at the expense of other senses. It is so easy to get wrapped up in thoughts and overly rely on sight to function, in a lazy way. Sometimes it's difficult to live in the present moment. When I was 25 a friend would say that I was missing out on life, that I should stop and smell the roses more. I wonder if you struggle with living in the moment? I do. I'm so concerned with my goals I often forget that there is a here and now. I think this is the down side to being so driven.
How are you going to know what I've asked in this question? The same way I wrote my original post.....
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And how is that? Also, what do you think upvote buttons look like? Through a combination of a screenreader, a piece of software that allows blind people to access the computer through synthesised speech output of content on the screen, and touch typing. And I'm not sure, maybe a thumbs up?
When is your favorite language and/or accents? Also, would you mind sharing an embarrassing story? This is my favorite AMA ever. Thank you for doing this! I learnt Spanish, and I really love Latin-American Spanish.
Hmm, honestly my life is a constant string of embarrassing moments, some blind related, some not. I still feel shame when I remember calling a primary school teacher of mine Grandma when I was like 5. I...don't know why. It just happened in the moment. Not like I actually thought she was my grandma.
Could you briefly let us know what it takes for you to record videos and post them to your YouTube channel? At the moment I'm using a USB webcam to record my videos. I'd have to write a long post, or make a video to really show the process. There are lots of small things I have to do.
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2020.10.02 10:40 KieselguhrKid13 Hidden camera car sex

Alright, home stretch foax. This section's a beast. Hang in there and keep sharing your insights! All together now...
Section 66
"You will want cause and effect. All right." (663) What an opening - it's almost confrontational, mocking our need for clear narrative structure and causality.
We discover that Thanatz was tossed overboard in the same storm that sent Slothrop off the Anubis and off on his adventure with Frau Gnahb. Thanatz is rescued by someone even stranger - an unnamed Polish undertaker (think on the etymology of that word) who happens to be a lightening aficionado. I'll stop here and comment that, earlier, when Slothrop fell into the water before and after getting on the Anubis, it brought to mind the river Styx in Hades - another underworld. It washes clean one's identity and memory. Makes you forget who you are. And there's traditionally a ferryman, Charon, to help people cross it. Can't help but think that's who saved Thanatz here, carrying him from the land of the dead to the land of the unliving, the preterite detritus of WWII.
(An aside: Speaking of Styx, has anyone listened to Mr. Roboto recently? That song has some Gravity's Rainbow vibes.)
Our undertaker here is inspired by the Franklin myth and is trying to get struck by lightening in order to experience that "singular point, [that] discontinuity in the curve of life" (664) passing from a rate of change of positive infinity to one of negative infinity in the blink of an eye. Seems there's something of a conspiracy among those who have been through this point of infinite inflection - a secret society of lightening heads who are aware not of another reality but of a new layer of reality laid on top of our own. Insight into a higher level of reality, of hidden systems.
We get an example of the content of the lightning-aficionado's publication A Nickel Saved and it's supposedly full of coded messages for Those Who Know, each part being a veiled reference to other topics that contain the true meaning, requiring a true paranoid's ability to see (make?) connections. For example, there are repeated mentions of April, Easter, and Spring - the season of rebirth. To an Amperage Contest and lightbulbs failing - Byron the Bulb's attempts to strike back, perchance? A screen-door salesman - what is a screen door except a permeable interface?
But our undertaker isn't interested in secret knowledge - he just wants to be a better businessman - and he deposits Thanatz on the shore and rows back off into the storm. Here, Thanatz meets a group of 175s - men formerly imprisoned in the Dora camp for being gay - who have formed their own solitary community in this isolated section of northern Germany.
I suspect some of this imagery may initially shock readers - concentration camp victims who want to return to their prison? Who set up their own 175-Stadt to recreate the conditions of their imprisonment? But think about it - just last section, we saw Katje, someone who's been used and abused by those in power, balk at the thought of being truly free because she had become dependent on systems of control. She had integrated those control systems as part of her identity, her sense of self. "She needs the whip," Blicero wrote of her (662). Just like Katje, these men became so conditioned to depend on a system of total control and rigid social hierarchies that they don't know how to function without it. Their 175-Stadt doesn't seem like such a ridiculously dark, inappropriate caricature now, does it? Because isn't that a central point of this book - that everyone has been conditioned to need control, to need Their System, to not know how to function without it? Slothrop was our perfect everyman from within this system, and look at what it took for him to actually be free (and even then, the ideal of America still has a colonial outpost in his head). But in their 175-Stadt, these men at least control their system of control. They built it, they staff every level of it, and it's entirely under their control. An isolated state, separate from the broader System. But is there a ruler in this system, a king? No, simply the figment of Blicero. His name, his specter, looming over everything. A system of control with no real king? We've seen that before.
Not only that, but this micro-society is not based strictly on the SS command from Dora, but what the prisoners inferred about the rocket command structure in the Mittelwerke. So even their "recreation" of their imprisonment is an approximation of a different system. I'd also stop here to comment that, is this imagery really as ridiculous/insane as it first appears? I'd say no, since the queeS&M community absolutely took inspiration from Nazi uniforms as symbols of dominance and control, repurposing it into fetishwear. But then, as in this 175-Stadt, the control is by choice, as is the submission. As we've seen elsewhere in this book (Blicero's Oven-State), turning submission into a fetish can be a form of rebellion, since it subverts Their means of control (fear of pain) and turns it into a source of pleasure. Is it truly control if you're choosing it? Enjoying it? No one said this book asks easy questions of its readers...
Thanatz keeps looking for answers, and gets swept up amidst the vast swarms of preterite Displaced Persons being shifted across the zone. What's concerning is that these supposedly-free, albeit displaced, people, are shuffled without purpose across the Zone, with minimal food, water, or medicine, being "herded into wire enclosure[s]" and shipped around in freight cars, "deloused, poked, palpated, named, numbered, consigned, invoiced, misrouted, detained, ignored" (669). It's almost impossible to miss the painful similarity here to the treatment of Jews and other victims of the Holocaust. Only here the mistreatment isn't out of some pathological hatred, simply a system without a place for so many people, and without the committed resources to actually, effectively help them. The thought is unsettling, since we like to imagine that only Naziesque hatred could prompt such brutal mistreatment, not apathy.
Finally, he's rescued by the Schwarzkommando thanks to his knowledge of Blicero and the firing of Rocket 00000. Here, we learn a bit more about what happened that day. Looking into Blicero's eyes, he saw windmills reflected, though none were in the area. Another four-way mandala, like we saw last week with Slothrop. Thanatz isn't in great mental shape by this point, and he's beginning to equate Gottfried and Bianca both as his children. Why? Because he felt some sense of responsibility to them? Because he failed them? Either way, the Schwarzkommando learn all they need from him about that fateful noon on the Heath, though we do not. The section ends with a simple touch of hands between Enzian and Christian, a moment of connection, of trust.
Section 67
Man, how do I even start summarizing this complete doozy of a section? As Weissenburger writes, "In this episode the narration begins to fragment." (344) Ya don't say... Well, here goes.
We being one serious trip of a section with Slothrop, as part of a rather unimpressive team of quasi-superheros (the "Floundering Four") fighting against evil ol' Broderick Slothrop amidst the factory-state (a Metropolis-like iteration of the Rocket-State with movable buildings?!). Broderick, in the role of comic book supervillain, keeps trying to off Slothrop, but our hero has a lucky streak just wide enough to keep him alive.
Right off the bat, we see another image of the chessboard - the whole factory-state is laid out in a grid, and it's all A Game of Chess, as der Springer already informed us, and our movements are limited. Crucially, "Your objective is not the King - there is no King - but momentary targets such as the Radiant Hour." (674) How can you win at chess when there's no King? How can the land be restored and the cycle renewed if there's no King to die and be replaced?
Slothrop is joined by a truly slipshod lot: Myrtle Miraculous, the only one who seems to have actual powers; Maximilian, a suave Black club manager who can flow with all natural rhythms and thus able to navigate any scenario with ease, and Marcel, a mechanical chess player (an embodiment of the Mechanical Turk, but crucially, one without the hidden human operator. No hidden Grandmaster lurking inside Marcel here - nope, this android's the real deal.
This section includes one of my favorite quotes from the book: "Decisions are never really made - at best they manager to emerge, from a chaos of peeves, whims, hallucinations and all-round assholery." (676) I can think of several times where I've been able to relate to that scenario all too well.
Their chances for success and failure are equal, but these opposing odds don't cancel each other out - instead, the two opposing forces just create a "loud dissonance". The crew undertake some truly hallucinatory adventures through the Racketen-Stadt which I will not attempt to summarize, as that would be an exercise in futility. But we are treated to flashes of Slothrop, "Broderick and Nalline's shadow-child, their unconfessed, their monster son," (677) getting locked in an icebox, piloting a mobile building through the grid-streets of the factory-state like a giant chess piece. One line really jumps out at me, here, that I think is important: "Their struggle is not the only, or even the ultimate one. Indeed, not only are there many other struggles, but there are also spectators, watching, as spectators will do, hundreds of thousands of them." (679) Makes me think of the "glozing neuters," mentioned earlier - of the masses of people who are just trying to live their lives, neither part of any conspiracy nor actively aware of being subject to one. Must be nice. At the same time, the idea of other, simultaneous struggles, is noteworthy - it brings to mind the concept of intersectionality, and how people realizing their unique, individual struggles share common sources, and common traits, which they can work together to fight.
We end this sub-section in an arena for these exact masses, where our heroes are on a stakeout, with Slothrop in full drag waiting in the Transvestites' Toilet for a message.
You may be wondering about the multiple instances of cross-dressing, in various iterations, throughout the book. Slothrop in drag and Blicero in a wig and merkin come to mind. One aspect, I'd say, is that it reflects a blending of two (as far as society is generally concerned) binary opposites. A crossing-over, a transgression against the status quo and an option other than 1 or 0.
Eliot, in his Notes on The Waste Land, wrote,

"Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a 'character', is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest. Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman, and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact, is the substance of the poem." (Emphasis mine).
Cue Crutchfield the Westwardman's world of only one of everything. Likewise, the women in Gravity's Rainbow often blend together, share traits or imagery. So do the men. The joining of the two sexes in Blicero, as well as Slothrop here at the end, is significant.
The Low-Frequency Listeners
The introduction here of the character of Rohr, the Keeper of the Antenna, specifically as a Jehovah's witness, was odd. It's such a specific subsect of Christianity. Then we see - he heard a man on the radio, dying, asking for a priest. Rohr says, "Should I have got on and told him about priests? Would he've found any comfort in that?" (682). In what? I had to look it up, but when I did, it clicked - Jehovah's witnesses apparently do not have priests, because they are all ordained. There is no separate priest caste in their church, and thus no Preterite/Elect division. In this section, we also learn that the Nuremberg trials are getting underway.
Mom Slothrop's Letter to Ambassador Kennedy
You start to feel even more sorry for Slothrop as you realize just how terrible his parents apparently were. His mom cares enough to at least write another letter asking Ambassador Kennedy as to what the hell happened to their son, but her letter quickly devolves into drunken ramblings complaining about striking workers and managing to make an innuendo about Jack Kennedy while also dismissing her love of her sons. Oof. Maybe Otto was right with his conspiracy of mothers...
On the Phrase "Ass-Backwards"
An entertaining linguistic debate between Säure and Slothrop on American idioms, specifically ones involving a reversal, as in the case of "ass-backwards". The section then slips into a story of Säure, in his youth, breaking into the home of a young woman, Minnie, who is unable to hear or pronounce umlauted letters, and thus manages to shout the word "helicopter" rather than "cute robber" well before the vehicle was ever invented. Her cry is heard by none other than a young aerodynamics student. The word is taken as a prophesy and a warning of the helicopter's symbol of the police state, with armed officers hanging out the sides, aiming down at their targets.
My Doper's Cadenza
It begins with a serenade from Bodine, and then an exploration of the tenement building "Der Platz" that is home to numerous drug addicts, dope peddlers, and general ne'er-do-wells. They are building an anti-police moat around the building, entirely underground so as to avoid detection, saving breaking through the street for the end.
Shit 'n' Shinola
Another idiomatic diversion for Säure. A beautiful line is tucked away in here - "from outside, the Hall is golden, the white gold precisely of one lily-of-the-valley petal in 4 o'clock sunlight, serene, at the top of an artificially-graded hill." (687) This building, the Schein-Aula (Seeming-Hall), suggests "persistence, through returns of spring, hopes for love, melting snow and ice, academic Sunday tranquillities, smells of grass just crushed or cut or later turning to hay..." (688) Yet again, imagery of spring, of a return to life from the dead season of winter, of the cycle.
We return to the Roseland Ballroom, where shit 'n' Shinola do actually come together. "Shit, now, is the color white folks are afraid of. Shit is the presence of death, not some abstract-arty character with a scythe but the stiff and rotting corpse itself inside the whiteman's warm and private own asshole, which is getting pretty intimate. That's what that white toilet's for.... that white porcelain's the very emblem of Odorless and Official Death." (688) Here Pynchon cuts straight to the point - the almost pathological fear of death and its connections to fears of blackness, excrement. Shit, Death, and the Word. Edwin Treacle hit on this back on p. 276 when he tried to show his colleagues at the White Visitation "that their feelings about blackness were tied to feelings about shit, and feelings about shit to feelings about putrefaction and death." The cycle of life is too organic, too messy. Better to replace carbon with silicon, to hide shit with porcelain, to treat people with dark skin as "other" or sub-human to avoid acknowledging that their non-European, communal ways of life were, in fact, totally natural.
An Incident in the Transvestites' Toilet
Not King Kong, but a small, costumed ape comes up to Slothrop, who's wearing a Fay Wray dress while waiting in the bathroom for a still-unspecified message. We get a Miltonic blank-verse poem (thanks, Weissenburger!) about the movie King Kong, written in the voice of Anne Darrow (Fay Wray's character). It's honestly quite good - I love the line "in your own stone living space" - the internal rhyme there sounds really nice, and I like the riff on living stone / Livingston, both of which have popped up previously. In the poem, Darrow talks about when she was tied up, hung by the natives as an offering to "the night's one Shape to come" (689), echoing both Greta Erdman's scene in Alpdrücken and the Hanged Man card of the Tarot (willing sacrifice, sacrifice that prompts a return, a renewal of the cycle). Darrow says she prayed, "not for Jack," her suave costar, but for her director Carl Denham, "only him, with gun and camera... making the unreal reel / By shooting at it, one way or the other-" (689). Throughout GR, we've seen a film motif, and this really brings it home. The analogy of a gun to a camera, both of which make the unreal real (a camera creates films that interpret real life - the "unreal reel", a gun makes death, which we've blocked away and tried to avoid, real and inescapable). The director is in control of the movie, the actors, the story, of how it works and what is told. Darrow ends by asking Carl to "show me the key light, whisper me a line..." - a key light is used in cinema and photography to not just shed light on the subject, but to do so in a way that provides form and dimension to the subject and the scene. So Darrow is asking for the director to literally give her form and definition, to tell her what to say next.
This ape, though, isn't so Romantic as ol' Kong though, and is much more direct. It hands Slothrop an anarchist's bomb straight out of the comics pages, and takes off. Slothrop freezes and is saved by a helpful transvestite who takes the bomb and flushes it down the toilet. But it explodes anyway, sending geysers of water up out of all the toilets. A Voice comes out of he Loudspeaker informing everyone that it was, in fact, a sodium bomb that explodes upon contact with water. Tellls everyone to get the "dangerous maniac" who threw it. That was supposed to be Slothrop, but he was saved by his indecision and the kindness of a stranger, who is now set upon by the other occupants of the toilet.
A Moment of Fun with Takeshi and Ichizo, the Komical Kamikazes
We now jump to a pair of comically-mismatched Kamikaze pilots stationed on a remote island well away from any conflict. One flies a Zero, the other flies an "Ohka device" which is basically a rocket-bomb with a pilot's seat. They get moonshine from their radarman, Kenosho, who mocks them daily for the lack of opportunities to fly to their deaths and who comes up with haikus that, while in the right format, really miss the heart of what a haiku is supposed to be.
Streets
Back to Slothrop, now, and a catalogue of the streets he's traveled down and what he's seen. We get a meditation on the absurdity of army chaplains, who worked for the Army and "stood up and talked to the men who were going to die about God, death, nothingness, redemption, salvation." (693) And it does seem a bit absurd when you consider that the Army that employs the chaplains is the same entity sending the men off to die. We see a bus driver (perchance our maniac bus driver from earlier?) driving through town in the night, his passengers looking out the windows, their faces "drowned-man green, insomniac, tobacco-starved, scared, not of tomorrow, not yet, but of this pause in their night-passage, of how easy it will be to lose, and how much it will hurt..." (693) Going back to the Waste Land, the phrase "I do not find / The Hanged Man. Fear death by water." is symbolic of a death without return (drowning) contrasted to the sacrifice/return symbolized by The Hanged Man. These poor passengers, it seems, aren't to expect any return.
Slothrop also, at this point, learns of the bombing of Hiroshima from a discarded Army newspaper, the photo of the atomic blast placed in poor taste next to an image of a pin-up girl. The bomb's mushroom cloud is compared to the Cross, to a capital-T Tree. But which tree? Is this a meditation on the deadly, unforgettable knowledge of how to split the atom, or of the tree of life, with the citizens of Hiroshima as a sacrifice made... but to what? I'm honestly not sure. Would love your thoughts.
Listening to the Toilet
As others have noted, this book in many ways is about the drug counterculture and hippie movement of the 60s/early 70s. This is the most overt in this section, in which we learn that listening for the cessation of the flow of water to the toilet in the pipes is a cue that a police raid is imminent - shutting off the water being a way to prevent the flushing of illicit substances. But it takes a special ear to hear the cessation of a subtle, pervasive white noise. What if the sun, in fact, massive furnace that it is, emits a constant, low-level roar that is so incessant we don't even hear it? What if eddies in the current of the Soniferous Aether cause rare spots of true quiet, where the noise is no longer transmitted and anyone in that spot can hear their own heartbeat it's so quiet? Interestingly, there are "quiet rooms" designed to absorb nearly all sound, used for precise sound calibration. I remember reading that most people can't sit in one of those rooms for more than 30 minutes or so because it's literally so quiet that you can hear the blood flowing through your veins, and people have even reported auditory hallucinations as a result. But why this digression? Maybe because we need to be asking what other white noise is out there that we've become completely deaf to? I think Roger and Jessica found a pocket of this quiet, early in the book, where the "noise" of modern society and all its associated obligations was muted by the War.
Witty Repartee
A return to our Komical Kamikazes, and a meditation on the ubiquity of the Hotchkiss machine gun across nations, independent of alliances. We get an image of a false King - an inbred idiot lying naked in a dumpster, attracting the attention of potential revolutionaries. But they can't decide if he's "a diversionary nuisance planted here by the Management, or whether he's real Decadent Aristocracy to be held for real ransom" (698). While the would-be revolutionaries are debating in the alley, sentries with the aforementioned Hotchkiss guns take positions on the rooftops, aiming down...
Heart-to-Heart, Man-to-Man
A dialogue here between Slothrop and ol' Broderick, with dear old dad interrogating his wayward son about a modern electric drug. Slothrop reassures him that he'd never shoot raw electricity - no, they dope themselves with waves. Major pre-Cyberpunk vibes here, with Broderick warning "Suppose someday you just plug in and go away and never come back?" to which Tyrone replies, "What do you think every electrofreak dreams about? .... Maybe there is a Machine to take us away, take us completely, suck us out through the electrodes out of the skull 'n' into the Machine and live there forever.... We can live forever, in a clean, honest, purified Electroworld-" (699). Matrix, anyone? Not to mention the waves of radio, TV, etc. and the simple, episodic, controlled reality they offer. Pleasantville also comes to mind, with all its commentary on the shows of the era.
Some Characteristics of Imipolex G
We learn that Imipolex G is the first erectile plastic, stiffening in response to certain electronic stimuli. The potential of a layer of controlling wires just under the outer layer of Imipolex, making it a second skin - a synthetic interface. Alternately, there's the potential to control it via a projection of "an electronic 'image; analogous to a motion picture." (700)
My gods, I made it through this section...
Section 68
Tchitcherine now, dealing with a spook, Nikolai Ripov, from the Commissariat for Intelligence Activities. His pal Džabajev has run off with "two local derelicts" (700) and is impersonating Frank Sinatra and wooing the ladies of the Zone. We get the line, "While nobles are crying in their nights' chains, the squires sing. The terrible politics of the Grail can never touch them. Song is the magic cape." (701) - Seems another example of folks recognizing the game, the Grail quest, for what it was and checking out - deciding not to play and just enjoy themselves while the Elect lose sleep over the endless searching.
Ripov explains to Tchitcherine how "the basic problem... has always been getting other people to die for you." (701) Religion used to serve as an effective control for that reason - death isn't quite as scary if you think you're going to heaven. But modern society has moved on, and needs more secular sources of control, like a commitment to "History" as if you're part of some great narrative, sacrificing yourself for some imagined end-goal of what society is "supposed" to be.
Seems Tchitcherine was doping on Oneirine theophosphate. Wimpe, his dealer, argues that a man is "only real at the points of decision. The time between doesn't matter." (702) Points man again - the moment of decision, of choice, that splits the future in two. Points of control. Contrast that to:
"Datta: what have we given? / My friend, blood shaking my heart / The awful daring of a moment’s surrender / Which an age of prudence can never retract / By this, and this only, we have existed." (The Waste Land, Part V: What the Thunder Said - emphasis mine).
Both are arguing that it's these key moments, irreversible junctures in our lives that make us real. Not what comes next, not what people say about us, just our moments. Integrate those moments, run them fast enough (say 24 frames per second) and you might even approximate something close to a person...
We learn that Oneirine apparently leads to "the dullest hallucinations known to psychopharmacology" (703) - hauntings of the mundane, the almost-normal.
Tchitcherine's Haunting
Tchitcherine hallucinates that Ripov is interrogating him, and he becomes fixated on the question of whether or not he was supposed to die. Seems like part of him wants to believe in life after death, in some hope for meaning, which goes against the Soviet doctrine and thus isn't exactly endearing him to those above him. Thankfully this is just an Oneirine haunting, except... wait, it's too real - no subtle violations of reality. He tries to escape, but is outnumbered. But no execution for him here - just a reassignment to Central Asia. A cold and operational death.
Section 69
"The dearest nation of all is one that will survive no longer than you and I, a common movement at the mercy of death and time: the ad hoc adventure." - Resolutions of the Gross Suckling Conference (706)
In other words, they seek a nation that does not function independently of its citizens - one that is not some separate identity with a quasi-personhood (much like how corporations are legally "people"). Rather, a nation that is inextricably linked to the people and that will die when they do. No immortality, no denial of the cycle or death.
But poor Roger's still dealing with Jessica, and now with Jeremy, too, who he's at least amicable with. But he's struggling with their acceptance of the System, their embracing of it. Jeremy's all about reassembling the rockets and firing them, asking "What else does one do with a rocket?" (note how disassembling it or at least not using the weapon isn't even an option...).
Jeremy's even so kind as to invite Roger to a fancy dinner with a bunch of corporate bigwigs, including folks from Krupp, ICI, and GE, and hosted by one Stefan Utgarthaloki, whose name should be a giant red-flag that something's amiss with this shindig. Roger picks Seaman Bodine as his date, the two having struck up a rather theatrical friendship, dress in their absurdist best (Bodine in the mother of all zoot suits), and join the party.
We get some insight here into the nature of rebellions, and the danger of them not only fizzling out or failing, but of being co-opted as a tool to "help legitimize Them" (713). Of either dying or "living on as Their pet" - it brings to mind the corporate branding of "rebelliousness" as cool, as "a phase" that it's normal to go through and eventually grow up from. Treating the idealism of youth, the desire to make the world better and to fight against the problems of the system before you become numb to them, as a normal phase of life is such an effective way to neutralize it culturally. How many people have heard the phrase "you get conservative [i.e. more resistant to change] as you get older"? How many of us have seen youth-led movements being dismissed as examples of immaturity, for example? Between that and companies stamping their logo on it (hello, Hot Topic), it's a way to change the cultural narrative around any movement against the status quo to one that's dismissive, just accepting enough to let people burn off their energy and eventually fall into line. Because how else can you continue to live a decent life in a society that refuses to change? You either go build a shack in the woods somewhere, die, or acclimate to the system and just focus on being comfortable yourself, not constantly fighting for change. It's a depressing thought, and I'm sure Pynchon saw a lot of that attitude in the 60s. I have to wonder - do non-industrialized societies have "teenage rebellion" as a normal part of life? Is that a part of human nature, like we tend to think, or is it an explicit reaction to reaching maturity in a system that is anti-human and anti-nature?
Anyway, back to the dinner party - between the depressing, anti-social music (kazoos?!) and the lavish dinner, things seem fine, but there's a plot against the Roger and Bodine. Fortunately a journalist, Constance, tips off Bodine that they might just be the main course of this feast, so Bodine cues Roger to begin the evening show - an absurd gross-out session that they planned in advance with the aid of now-deceased Pudding communicating via medium Carroll Eventyr. The pair recite an increasingly disgusting list of alliterative dishes, triggering "well-bred gagging" and guests to flee, though a few find it all quite entertaining. But it's enough to break up the dinner party and allow our heroes to flee.
Note: If you made it this far, actually read all this, thank you. Bloom warned me this was a longer section, and boy, he wasn't kidding. I think this is longer than some college essays I wrote... Damn fun, though, and I hope you've found my thoughts informative, interesting, useful, or if nothing else, sufficiently diversionary for a spell. I truly look forward to seeing what you other fine foax have to say on these labrynthine sections.
Questions
  1. In the lightning-aficionado's "A Nickel Saved" excerpt, are there any other references or hidden ideas you can find? I have to think there are.
  2. What is the meaning of the windmill reflected in Blicero's eyes? How do you interpret the imagery in this scene in general?
  3. 175-Stadt. Oven-State. Hund-Stadt. Rocket-State. Factory-State. We've seen numerous examples of specialized micro-states across the Zone, experiments in different forms of society. What are your thoughts on these? Are they hints at ways to find alternate societies, or manifestations of humanity's tendency to divide by category and put of fences?
  4. In the "Shit 'n' Shinola" subsection, Pynchon connects Jack Kennedy, Malcolm X, and Tyrone Slothrop. What do you make of this intersection?
  5. In "Streets," the bombing of Hiroshima is presented as being similar to the Cross, "it is also, perhaps, a Tree..." - the capitalized "Tree" here could be the tree of knowledge, the tree of life, the tree from which the Hanged Man dangles, or perhaps something else. What's your interpretation of this imagery?
  6. In Section 69, we see references to the Albatross, famous symbol from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. It's presented that Slothrop is the (now-plucked) albatross, but it's not clear who killed this bird, or who's wearing it around their neck. They? Any ideas?
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2020.09.01 17:47 IdolA1Sepl Hidden camera car sex

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2020.08.27 08:19 ImTheOnlyBobCat My brother has hard core drug induced hallucinations that are linked to his mental health problems.

My brother was picked up by a mental health team recently after binging on meth and having intense hallucinations. He sees things like masked men hiding in odd places like on his neighbours balcony, he sees infra-red cameras hidden in his room, he claims his phone, TV, car, bank accounts and home are being hacked and monitored. There is a team of people that work for a friend of his he lost touch with about a year ago all stringing together this elaborate plan to ruin his life. He also has extremely emotional rants on facebook about how his girlfriend is a sex worker (she's not), and believes she's near by, like next door, in his room, on the roof etc. having these gang bangs. When he goes to investigate, the gang bang team has ran off or has been evacuated by fake police and firemen before he could catch them. These gang banging sex addicts follow him everywhere having gang bangs in all sorts of places but he usually can only hear them, see them in the distance or some how engineer a photograph to reveal the hidden truth... it's not an out of focus picture of his front door, it's a picture of a gang bang and he's caught you red handed. I'm sure you can start to see an emerging trend here... my brother is obsessed with gang bangs when he's tweaking.
He showed up at my house in the middle of the night the other night demanding to come in because he thought his pregnant, heavily overweight girlfriend and I were hosting a 'gang bang' (group sex, orgy) at my place. He had this idea that the street lights were 'hacked' (like you might do with a phone or computer) and are projecting images of said 'gang bang' in the sky for him to see. He could also see this gang bang happening in photos i had sent him much earlier in the year of completely unrelated things, like my cat sitting on my lap - the cat was the only one naked. After showing up with the intention of confronting me physically, I talked him down slowly as my entire apartment block listened in. When he left he seemed to understand there was no gang bang going on. Shortly after he sent me some messages explaining he was going to bash my teeth in and that I should pack my bags and leave... i didn't. Then everything went quiet for a few days... Turns out he was picked up by the mental health team and diagnosed with psychotic paranoid personality disorder. They held him for a few days and released him back into the community. He blames me entirely for being picked up by mental health and has disowned me as a brother. It is a funny hallucination he experiences but the matter is pretty serious. I think he has a real tendency to be violent especially if alcohol is a factor. There are a number of other episodes he experiences and the fact is, it's definitely getting worse... more intense, and the psychosis induced hallucinations are becoming real to him even when he's sober. His pregnant girlfriend is totally enabling him and is easily manipulated by him... she is poorly educated, heavily overweight, and well you get what I'm saying, desperate to keep the relationship going at any cost for fear it's her last chance. My brother was her highschool crush sooo... there's that too. I want to track him somehow... know when he's been at my ground level apartment in the middle of the night creepily peering through the windows. I want some warning that he's going to go on his gang bang investigation and interrogation rampage. I need some real help dealing with this and well, nobody seems to have any constructive answers. What can I do? I'm totally at the end of my witts desperate not to give up on him.
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2020.08.26 23:08 LearningIsListening Hidden camera sex car

Below is a rundown of p.59 (65TH STREET)-p.63 (ENTERTAINMENT - E) under Epstein's contacts. Last year, I wrote about letters A-C. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/cpis3n/a_brief_rundown_of_the_first_ten_pages_of_jeffrey/).
I also wrote about letters D-F on July 5, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/hlrba8/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_df_in_jeffrey/).
I posted letters G-I on July 13, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/hqko0y/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_gi_in_jeffrey/).
I posted letters J-L on July 15, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/hrq9bg/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_jl_of_jeffrey/).
I posted letter M on July 20, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/huw0yt/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_the_letter_m_in_jeffrey/).
I posted letters N-Q on July 27, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/hyudbz/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_the_letters_nq_in_jeffrey/). There are some misspelled names. Epstein entered their names like this.
I posted letter R on July 29, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/i0aqxd/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_the_letter_r_in_jeffrey/)
I posted letter S on August 7, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/i5orop/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_the_letter_s_in_jeffrey/)
I posted letters T-V on August 13, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/i9dxwk/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_tv_in_jeffrey/)
I posted letters W-Z on August 20, 2020. You can check that out here (https://www.reddit.com/conspiracy/comments/idcqxw/a_notsobrief_rundown_of_letters_wz_in_jeffrey/)
I have bolded some of the more interesting connections and information, but there could be much more that I overlooked. I hope something here strikes an interest in someone and maybe we can get more investigations out of this. Please, if you know anything more about any of these people than what is presented here, post below. I am working off of the unredacted black book found here: https://www.coreysdigs.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/Jeffrey-Epsteins-Little-Black-Book-unredacted.pdf
65TH STREET
Dionne, Ryan: Executive chef who once worked for Epstein and Prince Albert of Monaco. Dionne has 13 entries in Epstein’s Lolita Express flight log (https://archive.org/stream/EpsteinFlightLogsLolitaExpress/Jeffrey-Epstein-Flight-Logs-in-PDF-format_djvu.txt). Dionne was identified by Epstein victim Virginia Roberts as a potential witness who may have known about Epstein and Maxwell’s sex trafficking and pedophilia ring (https://www.the-sun.com/news/778758/jeffrey-epstein-enablers-named-sex-trafficking-underage-victims/).
Geffert, Scott: The General Manager for Advanced Imaging at the MET museum. Geffert had the same two phone numbers listed earlier under Jeff Hirsch’s name. Hirch is the owner of Foto Care, a shop that sells professional camera equipment. Claims he is only in the ‘Black Book’ because he sold an expensive camera to Ghislaine many years ago and had to go to her house to show her how to use it (source: https://www.miamiherald.com/news/state/florida/article234312632.html). This, however, doesn’t explain why there are two numbers listed under Hirsch’s name that are attributed to Scott Geffert, the General Manager for Advanced Imaging at the MET museum. This could all be innocent or these two could have assisted in Epstein’s hidden camera setup and helped Epstein get high quality pictures of his victims. We can’t be sure.
Joseph & Florina Rueda: According to this website (https://npidb.org/organizations/respiratory_developmental_rehabilitative/rehabilitation-practitioner_225400000x/1023361193.aspx), they own a healthcare practitioner company based out of Nevada. This is odd, considering that they are listed under the same address as Ghislaine Maxwell in Epstein’s black book. There is a wonderful thread on Reddit (https://www.reddit.com/Epstein/comments/i2buj0/florena_and_joseph_rueda_in_black_book/) that delves deeper into the Ruedas. One poster suggests that they were possibly housekeepers for Ghislaine, which seems to be a solid theory. Their names were circled by Epstein’s now-deceased house manager. People whose names were circled were those who could be potential witnesses to pedophilia and/or child trafficking.
Kellen, Sarah: Ghislaine Maxwell’s assistant. She was the “second-in-command” and “lieutenant” (https://nypost.com/2020/07/17/maxwell-lieutenant-sarah-kellen-may-be-arrested-parents/) for Maxwell and was complicit in Epstein and Maxwell’s pedophilia ring. She also helped recruit for Epstein (https://www.thecut.com/2019/08/sarah-kellen-jeffrey-epstein-ghislaine-maxwell-lieutenant.html).
Kelly, Brian: A senior financial advisor who has worked at Morgan Stanley since 1993 (https://www.linkedin.com/public-profile/in/brian-j-kelly-72442219?challengeId=AQHBDkyx13cVYwAAAXQeUcXz9TDBRLy8kAMKQ7jEgDPmFxfTkaMjyDgvNTHOZ1gv9AQGvZJlsogkiRrUaUTAO3c3hIHOJvZcdA&submissionId=930be337-a313-2e16-5337-671a8a869a4a).
Maxwell, Ghislaine: We all know everything about her. The only interesting thing I can add is that Epstein had 38 phone numbers listed under Ghislaine’s name, but not all of them belong to her. For example, Epstein one phone number each for Joseph and Florena Rueda (above) listed under Maxwell’s name. Epstein also had two numbers listed under Ghislaine’s name for Scott and one for “Scott (w/Howie).” This is Scott Geffert, the General Manager for Advanced Imaging at the MET Museum (listed above) and “Howie” is Howard Goldstein, Scott’s business partner. Epstein had a lot of interest in digital imagery.
Mitrovich, Andrea: Former ballerina who is listed 17 times (confirmed) in Epstein’s Lolita Express flight log. There are also ten other listings that she can possibly linked to. Either way, she was a frequent flier on Epstein’s pedophile plane. There is a great thread by Twitter user Agenthades on her here (https://twitter.com/Agenthades1/status/1274801952237342722). He believes she now goes by Andrea Stowell and backs it up with some evidence. She has worked for the Clinton Foundation, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, and the World Bank. Her husband also worked for the Clinton Foundation and now works for IBM. Stowell/Mitrovich has social media links to other Epstein associates, including Sarah Kellen.
Police: Self explanatory. This is a police precinct on 67th street - four blocks from Epstein and two from Maxwell. It’s always nice to have the police on your side when you’re a sex trafficker.
Rueda, Joseph & Florena: See Joseph & Florina Ruena (above)
Tahoe, Kinney Garage: Parking garage.
AMERICA (A)
Antiques - Resale Number: Self-explanatory.
Arizona: Arizona 206 restaurant in NYC. Now closed. Used to be impossible to get reservations. Mentioned in American Psycho.
Aspen Club: Spa in Denver.
Au Bar: Lounge on 58th street in NYC. Now closed. Used to be one of those “places to be.” Also mentioned in American Psycho.
Avis International: Car rental.
Bel Air Hotel: High end hotel in Los Angeles that attracts celebrities and royalty. Epstein listed Frank Bowling (the General Manager of the Bel Air Hotel at the time) underneath this entry. Bowling is very well-known in the hotel industry and even counts Nancy Reagan and Prince Charles among his friends (https://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/12/arts/12iht-blume.1.12793097.html).
Beverly Hills Hotel: Another California-based hotel that counts many celebrities and royalty amongst their patrons. The Duke and Duchess of Windsor, Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon, John Wayne, Grace Kelly and the Crown Prince of Monaco, and King Albert of Belgium are just some of the people who have stayed there.
Beverly Wilshire: Another high-end California hotel. Past guests/tenants include: Barack Obama, Elvis, John Lennon, and Emperor Hirohito of Japan.
Bice: Former NYC Italian restaurant known for its upscale clientele. Closed down in 2014.
Bilboquet: Popular French restaurant not far from Epstein’s NYC mansion.
Bond Street: Japanese restaurant in Downtown Manhattan.
Carlyle: Luxury NYC hotel where JFK maintained a residence for the last ten years of his life. Mick Jagger still maintains a residence there. Billed the “Palace of Secrets” by the New York Times.
Christies - New York: Famous high-end auction house. It is said that Ghislaine Maxwell would often attend art gallery openings, parties, and auctions at Christie’s and Sotheby’s in order to recruit new girls for Epstein (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8608267/Ghislaine-Maxwell-trawled-galleries-gallerinas-meet-Jeffrey-Epstein-claims-former-friend.html).
Cipriani Downtown: A famous Italian restaurant “known as a fave for models… and a reported ‘hunting ground’ for Harvey Weinstein” (https://pagesix.com/2020/07/27/celeb-haunt-cipriani-downtown-loses-liquor-license-over-covid-concerns/).
Coffee Shop: Self-explanatory.
Cohen Gibby: Private personal trainer (https://www.nytimes.com/1984/12/14/style/now-personal-trainers-push-clients-to-new-highs-of-fitness.html).
Cook: Henry Meer, the chef who ran City Hall restaurant in Downtown Manhattan for 17 years.
Dawat Haute Cuisine of India: Indian restaurant.
Delmonico’s: Gourmet food market.
Doyle’s: Auction house.
Elaine: Not enough info.
Electrolysis: Self-explanatory.
Ello’s Restaurant: Italian restaurant that is a favorite among celebrities (Tom Hanks, Woody Allen, Mick Jagger, and Derek Jeter) and the wealthy.
Essex House: Hotel on Central Park South where David Bowie used to live.
Estia: Greek restaurant in Uptown Manhattan.
Exercise - New York: Kristin McGee, a celebrity yoga and pilates teacher, is listed underneath this entry. Magali is also listed. Magali Blachon is a life coach and wellness consultant. There are two other names listed - Jessica Benton and Jennifer (ballerina) - but I was unable to find info on them.
Four Seasons: Famous upscale NYC hotel.
Four Seasons Hotel: See Four Seasons (above)
Four Seasons Restaurant: Midtown Manhattan restaurant that closed last year. Owned by the Bronfman family of NXIVM fame. Regular diners included Bill Clinton, Henry Kissinger, Jackie Kennedy, Anna Wintour, Martha Stewart, and others.
Myers of Westwick: Myers of Keswick is a British grocery store in Downtown Manhattan.
Nicolas: Nicola’s is an Upper East Side Italian restaurant.
Opia: Opia was a restaurant in Midtown Manhattan. Now closed. The name Antoine Blech appears underneath this entry. Blech is a restaurateur.
Peninsula Hotel: California-based 5-star hotel that is popular among celebrities. Matthew Bartle, whose name appears underneath, was the front office manager from 2000-2005.
Peninsula Hotel: Same hotel group. This is the Midtown Manhattan location.
Pierre Hotel: Luxury hotel just off Central Park. Was owned by John Paul Getty (Getty Oil billionaire). Mohamed al-Fayed, Yves Saint-Laurent, Elizabeth Taylor and Aristotle Onassis were once permanent residents.
Plaza: The Plaza Hotel is a world famous hotel in New York. It is the hotel where Kevin McAllister stays in Home Alone 2. It was once owned by Trump, hence why he made a cameo in the movie. A celebrity paradise that once hosted Truman Capote’s famous Black and White Ball (https://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/21/fashion/black-and-white-ball-anniversary-truman-capote.html).
Plaza Athenee Hotel: 5-star hotel in Manhattan’s Upper East Side.
Province Restaurant: French restaurant in Downtown Manhattan. Now closed.
Ritz Carlton: Luxury hotel in NYC.
Royalton: A boutique hotel near Bryant Park in Midtown Manhattan. Not quite as high end as other hotels listed here.
Sette Mezzo: Upscale cash-only italian restaurant that caters to the elite. Regulars include George Soros, the Tisch family, Mike Nichols, Lily Safra, and others.
Shoes-Repair: Leather Spa shoe repair shop.
Shutters on the Beach: 5-star hotel in Santa Monica, California. Popular dining spot for Hollywood actors and actresses.
Sotheby’s: Famous high-end auction house. It is said that Ghislaine Maxwell would often attend art gallery openings, parties, and auctions at Christie’s and Sotheby’s in order to recruit new girls for Epstein (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8608267/Ghislaine-Maxwell-trawled-galleries-gallerinas-meet-Jeffrey-Epstein-claims-former-friend.html). The former owner of Sotheby’s attended Les Wexner’s birthday party with Epstein, Dershowitz, John Glenn, and others (https://nymag.com/intelligence2019/07/alan-dershowitz-jeffrey-epstein-case.html).
St Regis Hotel: 5-star hotel in Midtown Manhattan. Originally built by the Astor family. Has been the home of the likes of Salvador Dali and William Paley, the man who built Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS).
Stanhope Hotel: Former Uptown hotel in NYC. Converted to a residential co-op as of 2005.
Sunset Marquee: California-based hotel. Its bar is a favorite of musicians like U2, Aerosmith, and Robbie Williams.
Tao Restaurant: Asian bistro/lounge/nightclub that is a favorite among celebrities.
Taylor, The: Not positive, but this might be the Taylor | Graham art gallery.
The Great American Health Bar: Kosher restaurant. Much less high-end than other restaurants in Epstein’s contacts.
The Lowell: Upscale hotel in Manhattan owned by Fouad Chartouni. Chartouni’s name appears earlier in Epstein’s black book.
The Westbury: Now-defunct hotel that was changed into condominium apartments. Attracted lots of celebrities
Tickets: Phone numbers for sporting events, shows, and premieres.
Tribeca Grill: American restaurant co-owned by Robert De Niro and restaurateur Drew Nieporent.
Two Bunch Palm: A private getaway spa that is popular with the Hollywood crowd.
Waldorf Astoria: 5-star hotel known for its celebrity clientele and its place in world political history. The World Peace Conference of 1949 was held at the Waldorf. The conference denounced Stalinism after WWII. Some famous residents of the hotel include Edward III (the would-be king of England had he not abdicated) and Wallis Simpson (Duke and Duchess of Windsor), Herbert Hoover, Douglas MacArthur, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Nikola Tesla, Bugsy Siegel, and Frank Sinatra. Originally opened by William Waldorf Astor. The amount of politicians, wealthy people, and celebrities that have stayed here are countless.
Westbury Hotel: See ‘The Westbury’ above.
BRAZIL
Cecilia Szalman: No info found.
Ganero, Mario Sr: Mario Garnero is a Brazilian banker and entrepreneur who has been deemed the “father of the ethanol car” and is the chairman of the board and primary shareholder of Brasilinvest Group, a banking firm worth $700 million. Garnero’s connections run extremely deep. He is/has been personal friends with Jacob Rothschild, David Rockefeller, Bill Clinton, George H. W. Bush, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, Henry Kissinger, Helmut Schmidt, and many others. The following website makes some startling connections between Garnero, Epstein, and others (source: https://aeltri.com/2019/02/12/john-of-god-mario-garnero-and-epstein/). Quick summary: Record producer Damon Dash (former co-founder of Roc-A-Fella Records with Jay-Z) allegedly raped a supermodel who worked for Naomi Campbell at a party thrown by Garnero (source: https://www.standard.co.uk/news/poshs-friend-sued-for-rape-6939248.html).
Garnero has been referred to as a “Rothschild pawn” who tried to help Aecio Neves rise to power. Garnero also appointed “George Soros frontman, Arminio Fraga, who worked in Soros’ Quantum Fund, as Minister of the Economy.”
Riccardo: Not enough info.
ENTERTAINMENT (E)
Annabels: Most likely the high society hangout spot that used to be populated by likes of Ghislaine Maxwell and David Faber (https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8490447/Ghislaine-Maxwell-fall-sits-cell-photos-reveal-society-life.html).
Aspinals: A private gambling club that caters to the elite of London.
Bibendum: Possibly the Claude Bosi restaurant (https://claudebosi.com/) in London where Ghislaine’s friends, Caroline Stanbury and Paris Hilton, were photographed leaving last year (https://www.gettyimages.com/detail/news-photo/paris-hilton-and-caroline-stanbury-leaving-bibendum-news-photo/1154182268).
Clermont Club: London gambling venue for the wealthy and powerful (https://gaming-awards.com/NEWS/the-clermont-club/). There are rumors that Lord Lucan hid out at the club after he had killed the nanny of his children.
Daphne: Daphne’s is a well-known Italian restaurant in Chelsea, London that is frequently inhabited by celebrities.
Foxtrot Oscar: Former restaurant in Chelsea, London. Now home to Maze Grill Royal Hospital Road, owned by Gordon Ramsay.
Harrys Bar: Private members club in Mayfair, London where “extramarital affairs and all sorts of other high jinks are quite happily conducted, if not encouraged” (https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2005/10/harrys-bar-london). Started by Mark Birley.
Marks Club: Fairly certain this refers to the private members club in Mayfair, London. Like Harry’s Bar, Mark’s Club was also started by Mark Birley. The club is now owned by Peter Dubens (listed earlier in Epstein’s book under ‘Peter Dubbens’) and Charles Price, son of Charles Price II (also listed earlier in Epstein’s book), the U.S. Ambassador to the UK under Reagan. The only reason I am not completely certain is because the phone number listed underneath is a 212 area code (New York City). The phone number traces back to Joshua Welch of Vicuna Advisors with ties to the Tisch family. However, Welch, nor Vicuna Advisors, have nothing to do with Mark’s Club, as far as I can tell.
Nam long: Vietnamese restaurant in South Kensington, London that attracts celebrities and royalty. The owner once turned away Prince Andrew for “wearing the wrong shoes” and refused service to Mick Jagger because “the kitchen was closed” (https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/z4g884/this-bar-turned-away-prince-william-for-wearing-the-wrong-shoes).
Nikitas: Russian restaurant in London.
Patisserie Valerie: A cafe chain in London. This one was located in Knightsbridge. Now closed.
San Lorezo: San Lorenzo is an upscale Italian trattoria for celebrities and the wealthy. A favorite amongst the elite, specifically Princess Diana and Ivana Trump.
Scalinis: Another celebrity hot spot Italian restaurant in London.
Tramp: Private members only nightclub in London. Best known as the place where Prince Andrew sweated all over Epstein victim Virginia Roberts as they were dancing. Of course, Prince Andrew denied this night out with Roberts, Epstein, and Maxwell ever happened. Too many celebrities to name have been here (https://www.standard.co.uk/lifestyle/esmagazine/tramp-club-london-nightlife-a4148691.html).
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2020.08.23 13:00 Complex_Avocado_6479 Hidden sex car camera

Original post by the u/TheGrainLantern.
Following the Epstein "suicide", it's more clear than ever that there is an organization which uses children in pedophilic sex parties, in order to blackmail and control powerful people. These children are frequently murdered by these sick individuals. Some can also be traumatized for the purpose of creating dissociative personalities so they can be mind-controlled. For a full breakdown of the worldwide scandals, see this list and this documentary - both of which are non-exhaustive and already out of date, such is the scale of this operation.
Common traits of these scandals are:

Now ask yourself, what is the one type of organization which can accomplish all of these things? There is only one.
The secret services.
The only organization which would have the authority and the means to accomplish all these feats, to assert such a degree of control over all the outcomes, is military intelligence. Other entities may be involved - billionaires for example - but money can only accomplish so much. Yes you can purchase a newspaper and have journalists write something, but you can't just pay someone to murder someone in a prison and make it look like suicide. Prison security need to be moved, clearance needs to be given. People need to be so scared that they keep their mouth shut. The only way you do this is by having significant amounts of money and resources at your disposal, but also authority over them.
Here is a collection of evidence supporting this assertion:
  1. Epstein flew a helicopter which shared tail numbers with a covert US military helicopter used by DynCorp. Dyncorp has a history of child trafficking scandals in many countries and is owned by Steve Feinberg (US intelligence board). Epstein's pilot is rumored to be in US intelligence and a Mossad agent, Junkerman, has flown on his jet. Summary. Epstein's close associate, Ghislaine Maxwell, is the child of media baron Robert Maxwell, who had links to British, Israeli, and Russian secret service. Epstein got off very lightly in 2008 for sexually abusing underage girls. The current labor secretary, Alexander Acosta, gave him a very lenient deal. Who can pull the strings to make this happen? Either Acosta is a part of the conspiracy, or another entity was forcing his hand - the only entity that is capable of doing so is military intelligence. AG William Barr worked in Epstein's legal team. Barr's father, Donald Barr, was in the OSS, which was the precursor to the CIA. Donald Barr gave Epstein his first job as a math teacher in an elite, politically connected school, even though Epstein did not have any qualifications or even a college degree. And assuming that Epstein didn't commit suicide, whoever had him killed was able to make a murder look like suicide, inside a prison, while the target was under suicide watch. Guards were apparently told to leave the area due to maintenance, and CCTV camera footage was either prevented or confiscated Source. Only military intelligence operatives have the resources to pull this off. Epstein's murder, whether real or faked, was the CIA disposing of a loose asset.
  2. It is a documented historical fact that the CIA engaged in child trafficking, including child sexual abuse, to blackmail useful officials, in the MK Ultra project. Source 1 Source 2. Note that only a small portion of the documents for this project ever came to light - the majority were destroyed.
  3. The Franklin Scandal. The ring leader of the pedophile blackmail ring, Larry King, had ties to US Intelligence. Source, page 34 In a subsequent scandal involving a "call-boy ring" in Washington D.C., an associate of King's, Craig Spence, committed suicide in a hotel. The mysterious Spence was "a CIA asset" and had bugged his home so he could blackmail powerful people. Source, page 279
  4. Paul Bonacci, who was awarded $1m by a judge for the sexual abuse done to him by Larry King, was also involved in a MK-Ultra follow-up mind control operation called Monarch (also confirmed by other survivors). He directly named Colonel Michael Aquino as one of the leads in the project. Aquino worked for navy intelligence. Around this time, allegations of child sex abuse were being leveled at army bases all over the United States. Source. So it seems, at least in the 70s and 80s, there was a dedicated program by the US military for child trafficking, sexual abuse, and mind control.
  5. The Belgium Scandal. A key witness, Regina Louf, alleged that convicted child rapist and murderer Marc Dutroux kidnapped children, including her, for businessman Michel Nihoul. Louf alleged that Nihoul had hidden cameras and that she had to make sure her rapists were in the camera's field of view. Louf's allegations were independently corroborated by many other witnesses, many of whom could give intimate case details such as room layouts. Nihoul was found not guilty, after judges overruled the jury's guilty verdict. Louf was also discredited by the Belgian government's own TV station, which labelled her a deranged liar. The case was the subject of a massive public outcry after police made a huge number of serious mistakes, such as even neglecting to search a basement after children's voices could be heard - this mistake led to the children starving to death in their basement cell. Many witnesses related to the case died in mysterious circumstances, such as committing suicide despite having no personal problems, or having car accidents.Source 1 Source 2 Again, which organization has the ability to influence national media, influence senior judges, influence police, and kill people to make it look like suicide or an accident? The security services.
  6. The Hampstead cover-up, in which two children related that their father forced them to engage in satanic ritual abuse at their school and at a church, as well as pedophilic parties with their father's friends, including cutting off babies' heads. Babies were supplied to the cult by social services. An experienced police detective is on record saying he believed the children and their mother. The authorities quickly closed ranks on the situation, with a judge removing the children from their mother, which goes against lawful procedure. Medical examinations by experienced professionals proved that the children had been sexually abused (vaginal and anal examinations). Crucial evidence was withheld from hearings. Child protection authorities and the Home Office was silent and inactive. To cover up information related to the case, all major media outlets were served with a defense advisory (DA) notice - a DA notice is an official request to news editors not to publish or broadcast items on specified subjects which would compromise military or intelligence operations. Source.
  7. In 1987 a satanic cult in Washington D.C., the Finders, was investigated after children were seen being apparently trafficked by two well-dressed men. At the properties of the Finders, investigators discovered evidence of satanic ritual abuse, blackmail, sophisticated communication technology, and explosives. The CIA took over the investigation and declared it an "internal matter". No further investigation was permitted. Source
  8. Ronald Bernard confesses in an emotional interview about having to sacrifice children to prove yourself as a psychopath in the financial elite. He also says that "secret services are actually criminal organizations ... they will stop at nothing. They have their flows of money from trading drugs, weapons, people. All that money has to come from somewhere, everything has to be financed." Source
  9. The Jersey scandal (full breakdown here). A policeman, Lenny Harper, investigating a children's care home (which Jimmy Savile frequently visited), claims he recovered forensic evidence that children were killed and incinerated in the basement. In March 2008, BBC television personality Jimmy Savile started legal proceedings against The Sun newspaper which had, wrongly he claimed, linked him in several articles to the child abuse scandal at Haut de la Garenne. Savile initially denied visiting Haut de la Garenne, but later admitted that he had done so, following the publication of a photograph showing him at the home surrounded by children. The States of Jersey Police said that in 2008 an allegation of an indecent assault by Savile at the home in the 1970s had been investigated, but there had been insufficient evidence to proceed. The forensic evidence found on the site was repeatedly compromised when it was sent to the UK for analysis. Lenny Harper received many death threats and was attacked by Jersey's local media, and some national media outlets. A journalist who later tried to investigate was arrested, held for 12 hours at Heathrow airport, and banned from the island. Vice article The list of suspects in the case include British government officials. According to Harper, Chief Minister for Jersey Frank Walker (OBE) warned Harper that his investigation could "bring the government down". In September 2008, the investigation team was changed. David Warcup, the leader of the new team, said there was "no evidence" that children were killed at Haut and that Harper's information he gave to the press were not accurate. Warcup said that the bones were animal bones and that the 60 milk teeth had come out naturally. Telegraph article 2 The new team also claimed that a child's skull was actually a piece of coconut (citing no scientific analysis), going against statements made by two anthropologists that it was a skull fragment as it contained collagen, and moreover that it was "fleshed and fresh" when it had been burned. Source Warcup said that the bones which were found could have been hundreds of years old, however an expert told Harper that they could only be a few decades old. Source 2 MP John Hemming said that he had no doubt that there were efforts to cover up the murder evidence. BBC article
  10. A man called Carl Beech claimed that in the 70s and 80s he and a number of other boys were raped by powerful people in London. He made claims specifically against twelve people, including the former Members of Parliament Harvey Proctor (who had already been convicted of gross indecency for having sex with teenage boys) and Greville Janner, the former Home Secretary Leon Brittan, the former Prime Minister Edward Heath, the former Chief of the Defence Staff Lord Bramall, the former Director of the Secret Intelligence Service Maurice Oldfield, and the former Director-General of MI5 Michael Hanley. Beech claimed that he was abused at a number of places including Dolphin Square, the Carlton Club, and various other places in the Home Counties. Beech also falsely claimed that the group murdered three children: two for sexual pleasure, and a third to intimidate the others. Proctor's solicitors told him that Beech had alleged that he had seen Proctor repeatedly stab a 12-year-old boy before strangling him to death, and that he himself had been raped by Proctor. The officer leading the investigation, Detective Superintendent Kenny McDonald, said in December 2014 that experienced officers had concluded that the allegations were "credible and true". McDonald was later criticised for the statement, and it was retracted. The investigating team was changed, no further evidence was found, and Beech was sentenced to 19 years in prison. Source
  11. Natacha Jaitt, a playboy model, alleged that she had evidence of a VIP child abuse ring, involving journalists and politicians in Argentina. She tweeted that "Notice: I will not commit suicide. I won’t be bought off or drown in a bath tub, nor will I shoot myself in the head. So, if that happens: I wasn’t me. Save this tweet." She was later found dead of an apparent drug overdose - her lawyer and brother suspect foul play. Source
  12. Former police officer Mark Minnie wrote an explosive book detailing a pedophile ring in South African government. Minnie, 58, was found with a bullet to his head, but many people are refusing to believe the police version - that he took his own life at the farm of a friend near the coastal city of Port Elizabeth. "The fact that the suicide note was found doesn't necessarily mean he wrote it willingly. I mean he could've written it under duress. The fact that he shot himself with someone else's pistol already raises questions," investigative journalist and author Jacques Pauw told South Africa's radio 702. Source
  13. Imane Fadil was a Moroccan ex-model who became a celebrity after becoming a key witness in the 2013 “Rubygate” trials which accused the media mogul and ex-Prime Minister of Italy Silvio Berlusconi of “child prostitution”. Fadil was also looking to be a witness in a related investigation (dubbed “Ruby ter”) that is still ongoing. In 2018, Fadil claimed in an interview that Berlusconi’s infamous “parties” lead to dark, satanic rituals. She was also in the process of writing a tell-all book about Rubygate and the dark secrets of Berlusconi. The name of the projected book was quite evocative: I Met the Devil. However, in the past weeks, things dramatic turn. Imane Fadil died in a hospital room in Milan on March 1st after a month of agony. Media sources reported her death only 15 days after the fact, mostly because authorities announced the opening of a homicide investigation. Indeed, the cause of Fadil’s death is currently believed to be “murder by radioactive poisoning”. Source
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2020.08.21 08:44 ImogenLink The Camera Man

About several years ago, me being around 8-10 years old at the time, I went to go visit my cousins in New York City. I am female and had lived in Connecticut at the time, and my grandmother had driven with me over to their apartment building for the weekend. It was on the day I was going back home from visiting, and I had to wait for one of my cousin’s friend to come by and pick her up for a sleepover. Right after she were to leave, I would go back home with my grandmother.
We were running around the lobby area downstairs, eagerly waiting for my cousins friend to arrive. Her younger brother Kyle had came along because he just wanted to be apart of the group since my cousins and I were known to be quite attached to each other, to the point Kyle almost felt constantly left out. My grandmother was patiently seated at the seating area, reading an article on a magazine, as my cousins and I slipped away, and ran up to the main door to get a better view of the outside.
Our faces were pressed against the glass, waiting for my cousin’s friend, when I noticed what I thought was a man holding a camera, almost hidden amongst some parked cars on the side of the street. I am still surprised, even today, how I was able to see him. He was very tall, had grey hair, and was wearing a dark overcoat, but was blending in so well with his surroundings, that he was almost invisible at first glance.
Thankfully, my mother always taught me to be careful around strangers, so when I saw him, I panicked and took both of my cousins by the shoulders and told them to step back. Right when I had done this, the man put down his camera and started to make frustrated gestures at my cousins and I, telling us to come back to the window. My mind was telling me to get away from the window as far as possible, so I told both of my cousins to go wait with me in the waiting area with my grandmother, still devoted to the article she was reading.
The friend ended up arriving, and I never told my grandmother about what happened. I never saw the man again.
Now here’s where things get a little crazy. About a couple of months ago, I was talking to my cousin Casey again about their time in New York City. They had moved to California a couple of years back, and we started talking about the buildings around the area, and how pretty they all were since they lived in the more wealthy side of the city. During midway of the conversation, we were getting into the types of people who had lived in each apartment. I was in the middle of talking about how loud and annoying their next door neighbors were, when Casey interrupted me with a last minute remark on one of our neighbors that lived across. The conversation went something like this:
“Remember the giant apartment that was right across from ours?”
“Yes who wouldn’t? It was huge.”
“Well, apparently Jeffrey Epstein had lived there all throughout the time we’ve lived there.”
At first when she said this, I was mainly shocked at the fact that Jeffrey Epstein, one of the worlds most notorious sex traffickers, had lived right across from them all that time. When I went to visit them, when I went there to celebrate birthdays or overall hangout with my cousins, I had no idea he was living in that beautiful apartment I used to idolize everyday, across the street. At the time, I didn’t connect the camera story with Jeffrey, since I was mainly shocked on the idea of him being there, and my aunts never telling me, or even my own mother. My aunt was the one that told my cousin after the whole ordeal with him had broken out.
It wasn’t until a few days ago when I remembered the camera incident, and that I realized how similar the man with the camera and Jeffrey Epstein had looked to each other, tall, grey haired, and light-skinned, but yet there are millions of people like that in the entire state of New York in general. I don’t know if they are connected or not, or if is just a mere coincidence. It might’ve even just have been an innocent New York City photographer. I’ll never know the truth, but it still keeps bugging my mind ever since I’ve made the connection.
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2020.08.09 22:45 welcometosouthapp Camera sex hidden car

Welcome to South App #2: https://preview.redd.it/yjkwcmvc22g51.jpg?width=2365&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1aeb599b9653585277e9c705c7d6a935c1a144da
Sunday, August 9th, 2020
“Hall check! Wake yo' dumb asses up.”
Winston wiped the grit out of his eyes and checked his phone. 6 AM. He sucked last night’s Cheeto dust off his fingers and ripped a violent fart, causing Tai to spring up from his bed.
“What was that?!” Tai piped up. “And...what’s that smell?”
“Armadillos,” said Winston, lighting a cig. “Liberal town stinks of ‘em.”
Somebody pounded the hell out of the door. “Winston! Tai! I said hall check!”
“Fuuuck,” Winston slurred, hopping off the top bunk. He smacked his head on the way down, landed on his ankle, and dropped his cigarette.
“And that would be the new R.A.,” Tai sighed, shuffling to his feet. “Voice sounds kinda familiar. Welp, our shenanigans were fun while they lasted.”
They emerged into the bright hallway in pajamas. And to their surprise, every student stood next to their door at attention. Some were swearing. Others were sweating. And strangely, there was no R.A. in sight.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Winston muttered.
“Dude, get to attention before he comes back!” hissed Connor: a lanky, nerdy guy with a bowl cut and glasses.
“Is this some kind of joke?” asked Tai. “Somebody must be playing a prank on us or-"
Suddenly clothes, shoes, snacks, beer bottles, and a sex doll flew out of the room at the end of the hall. “Jackpot!” bellowed a voice from inside. “That’s a fuckin’ minor-in-possession charge right there!”
Then, it occurred to Winston: that voice was familiar. Suddenly, his taser mark burned like Spidey Sense. Winston jogged between rows of trembling students, ignoring the suffering cries of “Don’t do it!” and “He’s bigger than you!” In the doorway, Winston saw him: Lionell the bus driver. He sat with his back turned in a swivel chair, browsing his hallmate’s laptop. He appeared to be making himself right at home, his combat boots crossed on top of the desk.
“Looks like the simps in this room are fond of big-titty goth bitches!” he yelled out, scrolling through the browser history of 4K porn.
Winston took a deep breath. “Hey, uh...Mister Lionell?”
Lionell swiveled around to face him. His eyebrows furrowed like two lightning bolts beneath his freshly-waxed head. “Ah, Winston Panty-Pissin’ Beavers. Care to tell me why the fuck you ain’t in formation?”
Winston would rather swallow his own vomit than his pride. “Uh, yes sir. First of all, I wanna apologize for the way I acted on the bus. I was a bonafide douchebag. But I also wanted to ask: can I please get my gun back? My dad gave it to me, and-”
Lionell shot to his feet. He marched over to Winston like a true Marine. Slowly, he reached into his BDU pocket and withdrew the Colt Single-Action Army, cradling it in his calloused hands like Oliver Twist asking for porridge.
“Is, uh…this whatchu want, Mister Beavers?” Lionell mocked in a high-pitched voice.
“Yeah, man!” Winston chuckled nervously. “I’d mighty appreciate it.”
“Go on then!” Lionell snapped. “Take it. But if you do, I’m gonna charge yo’ ass with discharging a firearm near a public highway, destruction of private property, and attempted hijacking of a motor vehicle! And Lionell’s my government name. It’s Deputy Hardy to you.”
Lionell snatched Winston’s hand and placed the gun inside it. The warm muzzle fit his hand perfectly - exactly why his dad had chosen it for him. And it pained Winston that much more to hand the Colt back to Lionell. Winston had reluctantly made up his mind.
“That’s what I fucking thought,” Lionell sneered. “You’re a pussy, and daddy would be ashamed." Lionell pocketed the gun and marched out of the room, down the hall of petrified students. “Ya know, I’d say daddy shoulda left yo’ ass on a tissue. Then again, why waste a perfectly good tissue, ya dig?”
Lionell reached Room 309 and stepped inside.
“We gotta do something about this son of a bitch,” whispered Tai, as a seething Winston came to attention next to his room.
“Dude, there’s not shit we can do except comply,” whispered Connor, shaking his head. “Most of us have shit in our room way worse than alcohol." Connor pressed his finger against his nostril and pretended to snort cocaine. “Look, the way I see it: we just gotta let the R.A. do his thing. Let’s face it: we’re Lionell’s bitch.”
Holy fucking shit!” Lionell cheered. “I gots me some goodies in this room.” He walked out with a bag of Winston’s hand-cut tobacco, a jar of moonshine, and a few boxes of .45 ammo. But Winston’s anger paled in comparison to the sheer horror on Tai’s face. Under Lionell’s arm was a binder with big, bold letters reading HAWT BOOK. Tai’s eyeballs nearly popped out of his skull.
“He cannot...read...that book!” Tai whispered, gripping Winston’s shoulder.
“Sheesh, dude,” Winston said with a shrug. “Quit your bitchin’. He done took my Alabama moonshine. A few inbreds died making that batch.”
“Mine’s worse, roomie,” Tai’s voice cracked. “Much worse.”
***
Four floors up, Gigi opened her eyes to the sun in her face. She stared up at the ceiling, a visible heatwave cooking the room. One of these days, the paint would melt off the ceiling and coat her entire body while she slept.
Like Winston, Gigi was a member of the Top Bunk Club. And she too had rolled off the bunk and twisted her ankle more than once. On this day she sat up too quickly, feeling a rush of hard cider to the head. She felt herself tumbling down, down, down - landing squarely on the bean bag chair below.
The room spun above her head, her heart pounding in her throat. She slumped over, crawling across the soft, white shag carpet. Gripping the towel rack, she pulled her body up, bent over the sink, and threw up. She flopped onto the cold tile floor, smiling as the nausea left her body.
Somebody gently tapped on her door.
“Sarah?” Gigi called out, her voice hoarse and dry. “Um...can you grab me a Sprite?”
“Oooh, my-a Gigi!” called out an Asian lady. It was Kim Moon: Gigi’s mom. “How are you? Did you have much drink? I cannot wait hear everything!”
Gigi lay in a fetal position, covering her mouth. “M-mom?!”
“Yes, my-a Gigi!” replied Kim. “Please open door for hall check. I am your new R.A!”
Gigi projectile vomited on the shag rug.
Minutes later, Kim was on her knees scrubbing the rug while Gigi sat on the futon. Kim had raided Gigi’s cabinet for rubber gloves, bleach, and an old towel. She aggressively scrubbed the carpet until that one spot was much cleaner than the rest of it.
“Like I always tell-a you,” Kim said, looking up. “Cleanliness next to godliness." She smiled, displaying a row of pale yellow teeth. Her black, thinning hair draped down the back of her neck. She was even shorter than her daughter.
“Um...yep!” Gigi laughed nervously. She sipped a Sprite, pulling her knees to her chest. “So...what exactly is going on?”
“My-a Gigi,” Kim cooed, cradling her daughter’s face in her gloved hands. “My heart-a broke when you leave. I cry and cry, then I finally close up shop be with you!”
Back in suburban Atlanta, Kim ran a small farmer’s market out of a shed on her property. Gigi spent her adolescent and teenage years harvesting vegetables and selling them in exchange for a weekly allowance. Kim always swore that Gigi (or possibly her bratty little sister, Catherine) would someday inherit the house and family business.
“Why-a don’t we start our hall check? I bake-a cookies for all you ladies while we tell story of baby Gigi!”
***
Tai and Winston stood at attention, while Lionell paced the hallway with Tai’s HAWT BOOK in hand.
“I told y’all motherfuckers I done struck gold!” Lionell bellowed.
As Lionell approached, the students’ faces burned red. Lionell stopped in front of the room across the hall. “Now what’s...yo name?”
“C-C-Connor,” said the bowl-cut kid.
“Ah, mah’fuckin’ Connor! That right there’s a hwhite boy name." Lionell flipped through the binder. And while the other students stared in horror, Winston was the only one fighting to hold back a laugh.
“Ah, Connor in Room 308!” Lionell read from the binder. “Pros: tight ass; confirmed six-pack. Cons: probably not bi-curious; probably a top. Overall rating: 7/10.”
Winston exploded into laughter. “Damn, Connor, you’re tied with Fat Will!" William, the chunky neckbeard down the hall, gave a hesitant thumbs-up. In Tai’s binder, Will had also scored a 7/10 for having a size-13 shoe size and being a sloppy eater.
“I ain’t done yet, funny boy!” Lionell yelled in Winston’s face. “I done saved the best for last. The mah-fuckin’ creme-de-la-creme. Wiiinston Beavers!”
“Ha!” Winston interrupted, pointing at the 3/10 Leftward-Sloping-Penis-Rick down the hall. “That means you’re officially in last place, bitch!”
Earlier, Tai had been sweating bullets. But after having his deepest, darkest secrets broadcasted so theatrically, his expression was dull and lifeless.
Winston Beavers: my temporary college roommate,” Lionell read. “Cons: leaves his dirty boots on the carpet, doesn’t wash his sheets, doesn’t wash his scrotum, drinks milk from the carton, everything he touches turns into Cheeto dust, and the room smells like dead armadillos when he’s around.”
Winston stopped laughing.
Pros: good snacks,” Lionell sneered. “Final score: 0.5 out of 10.”
“This is horse shit!” Winston yelled, punching the wall. He stomped down the hall of cringing students. Tai trailed behind while the thunderous laughter of Deputy Hardy faded behind them.
“Wait, hold up!” Tai called out in the stairwell. “Just let me explain."
“Ain’t nothin’ to explain!” Winston shot back. “Apparently, I’m a temporary roommate. So I ain’t gonna show my armadillo ass around Firewater much longer.”
“Okay man, I admit it,” Tai said, throwing his hands up. “I’m not sorry for writing that, but I am sorry you had to hear it. Besides! It’s not like it’s something that can’t be fixed. I have a wide array of hygiene products that’ll help with at least a quarter of the things on that list!”
Winston scoffed like a wild hog. But his expression softened as he mulled it over. “You got any of that...sandalwood cologne?”
“Hell yes I do!” said Tai, perking up. “I’ve got creams, lotions, salves, colognes - you name it! Roomie, allow me to become your personal fabulous assistant! Why, I’ll have you looking spiffy for Miss Claire Dansby in no time.”
“Now you’re talking my language,” Winston said, shaking on it. “Deal.”
They entered the 700 Hall to the sound of giddy laughter. The ladies gathered around the petite Miss Kim, who sat in a stool in the middle of the hallway. Like Kindergarteners, they watched earnestly while the woman held a photo album.
“And dis one,” Kim squeaked, pointing at one of the photos, “is my-a Gigi during first birthday. She eat-a cake, and eat, and eat. She get very, very fat! And you no notice now, because she smaaall as Oompa Loompa now.”
The women howled with laughter while Gigi sat slumped against the wall, wishing she would melt into it.
“And how-a can we-a forget!” Kim gasped. “Dis one is my-a Gigi dressed-a like Neenja Turtle. She has-a Neenja Turtle jammies, Neenja Turtle bedsheets, and even-a Neenja Turtle potty!”
“Sorry Ma’am, we gotta go!” announced Winston, grabbing Gigi’s hand. “Sunday brunch is about to start.”
“Oh!” cried Kim. “Why, hello! Handsome gentlemen stay for my-a cookies?”
But the three freshmen were already out the door.
***
The Chubby Beaver Cafe rewarded Sunday brunch to hungover early birds on campus. A full spread of “Beaverific” entrees: bourbon maple chicken and waffles, crepes stuffed with fresh fruit puree, and virgin screwdrivers (i.e. BYOB). The main attraction: a giant hand-carved ice beaver statue.
But the distraught Winston, Gigi, and Tai were sickened by the thought of fine dining. Instead, they drowned their sorrow in a mile-high stack of bacon on a plate. While they silently munched on sadness and grease, Sarah swept by with a crepe and a screwdriver. She plopped down in the seat next to Winston.
“Helllo, lovelies!” she greeted. Unlike the other three pajama slobs, she wore a long, purple skirt and newly-braided dreadlocks. Sarah was rushing a week early, having spent the night stargazing with a co-ed hippie fraternity.
“What’s with the plate of animal carcasses, bro?” Sarah asked, sipping her drink. “Does a pig have to die for you to live?”
“Fuck it, I’m full,” growled Winston, pushing his plate across the table. Tai and Gigi turned away like dogs refusing to eat.
“Geez, who rained on your parade?” Sarah asked, cracking open a shot bottle of vodka and discretely pouring it into her orange juice.
Winston pointed at the entrance. “See for yourself.”
The freshmen watched a group of men and women stroll into the cafe, dressed in their Sunday-best attire of black tailored suits and dresses. And yet, in context, it seemed like they were marching to a funeral.
“Wait,” Sarah whispered. “That’s the-"
“Campus 5-0,” Winston finished. He stood on top of his chair. “Code red!”
Immediately, every student scrambled to hide their weed, mini liquor bottles, and pain pills. Several students pulled their hands out of their girlfriends’ panties. And the conversation shifted from scoring molly to scoring into the South App Honors Program.
“Wait, that’s the bus driver, right?” Sarah asked, pointing out the freshly-waxed bald head in the crowd. “God, tell me he’s not your R.A!”
“He is, oh God he is!” Tai moaned dramatically. He grabbed a handful of bacon, stuffed it into his mouth, and crawled under the table.
Lionell reached into his pocket and made his hand into the shape of a gun. He aimed it at Winston, shut his left eye, and "fired." Winston didn’t so much as move a muscle while Lionell blew on his hand, placed the “gun” in his pocket, and got in line for waffles.
“Um...I’ve got it worse - tenfold!” Gigi laughed nervously. On cue, Momma Moon approached their table wearing a long, black dress.
“O-a, my-a Gigi and friends!” Kim greeted, folding her hands in front of her waist. “When you-a leave, I unlock your-a door and do all your laundry!”
“What?!” Gigi choked. “You have a key to my room?”
“My dear-a, I need keep an eye on you as your R.A! I not go anywhere! I need make sure you safe and clean. All your thong-a, and even your granny panty.”
With that, Gigi grabbed a handful of bacon, stuffed it into her mouth, and slipped under the table to join Tai.
And now only the two siblings remained. Kim reached over and stroked Winston’s beard. “It’s-a been long time since my-a Gigi have strong American friend take-a care of her. You make sure she-a be good girl while she get teeth degree.”
“Uh, sure thing ma’am,” Winston replied while Kim gave him a boop on the nose with her finger.
“You-a fluffy man. You look handsome if you no fat.”
Sarah burst into laughter, downing the rest of her screwdriver. But Kim picked up Sarah’s empty glass, traced the rim, and placed a finger in her mouth. “Oooh, naughty, naughty. I think you put alcohol in there-a. That means-a I impose 7 PM curfew for week.”
“What?!” screamed Sarah. “You bitch!”
“Oooh, careful,” Kim cooed, picking up a slice of bacon and pointing at Lionell across the room. “If you no comply, I tell big cop man that you minor in possession." She spun around and walked off, nibbling on the bacon like a chipmunk.
Sarah snapped the glass at the stem. “Let’s sabotage these fuckin’ R.A.'s!”
Winston narrowed his eyes, watching as Lionell poured a cup of runny batter into the waffle iron. He rotated the handle to start the timer, and his carb cake began to cook.
“Now’s our chance,” Winston said, springing up from his chair. “Follow me, sis.”
“What about them?” Sarah asked, pointing under the table.
Winston grabbed the plate of bacon and lifted the tablecloth. Tai and Gigi immediately snatched it up like cave trolls, feasting in their underground lair.
“All that pork and they’re skinny as rails,” Winston muttered to Sarah.
“Ah, I see Momma Moon hit a nerve with you,” Sarah teased, rubbing his belly. “Are you out to impress her now? Or is it her daughter you seek?”
Winston scoffed as he and Sarah weaved through tables of hungover students. “Nah, just Claire,” he replied.
“Ah, I knew it!” Sarah laughed. “Your southern damsel in distress. So, you wanna know a secret that only a woman would know?”
“Hit me.”
“It’s gonna take a lot more than good looks to score with a woman like her.”
“Explain.”
“The solution...is that there is no solution. You have to be born into it. Sorry!”
At the waffle station, Lionell lifted the handle and grabbed his waffle, imprinted with the S.A.U. Beaver logo. And as he searched for the maple syrup, Winston dangled it in front of his face.
“Got a wager for ya, Deputy,” Winston proposed, dousing his waffle with syrup while Lionell furrowed his brow. “And the stakes are mighty high.”
“You got ten seconds,” Lionell snarled, “Before I stomp yo’ ass in front of your sister." Sarah took a sip of her fresh screwdriver, middle finger up.
“Whoa, easy tiger,” said Winston. He poured a scoop of batter into the waffle iron and slammed it shut. “I’ll put it like this: you look like you’ve eaten from a pig trough once or twice in your life.”
“You got some fuckin’ nerve.”
“Hey, I have too! Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Your colleague over there called me out on my weight too. You’re an American. I’m an American. So let’s do what we Americans do best: have a good old-fashioned eating contest.”
Lionell paused. He swiped a knob of butter with his knife and slathered his waffle. “Now what’s in it for me?”
“Simple. If you win, you get to give me a 7 PM curfew for a month." Sarah suddenly spat out her screwdriver, clutching Winston’s sleeve. “And if I win, you get the fuck out of my hall.”
A gleaming smile washed across Lionell’s face. Students began setting their phones down to eavesdrop. The waffle iron alarm went off. Lionell swiped the fluffy waffle and dropped it on a plate.
“Aight, Beavers. But I get to decide what we eatin’. Annnd march!”
Lionell snapped to attention, about-faced, and marched down the buffet line. Winston quickly slathered his waffle with syrup and butter, following behind. At the chicken station, Lionell grabbed the tongs and swiped a piece of growth-hormone fried chicken for both of them. Five slices of bacon to top it all off.
That’s it? Winston thought. This is just any given Tuesday for me.
But instead of heading back to a table, Lionell about-faced to the waffle station again. “I ain’t through with you by a damn sight,” Lionell warned. “I’m about to get diabetic on yo’ ass!”
Lionell and Winston cycled through the buffet line, layering the waffles, chicken, and bacon three more times. By now, Gigi and Tai had joined the crowd of gossiping students. When Sarah recapped the challenge, Gigi crossed her arms, containing a large belch in her throat.
“Wow, how can Winston eat all of that?” Gigi groaned. “Is he from this world?”
“You’d be surprised,” Sarah chuckled, shaking her head. “My brother is a bonafide carnivore. Hell, he used to have this YouTube channel. What was it...ah, Feng Shui of the Gut. He’d upload these crazy eating challenges once or twice a week. My parents couldn’t keep a full pantry. And let’s just say it got to the point where they made Winston buy his own toilet paper.
That mental image seared in Gigi’s mind as the two competitors sat down with their two-foot-tall stacks of grease. And since Winston’s gut would certainly be “feng shui’d” this afternoon, Tai thanked God that their dorm bathrooms were down the hall instead of in their room. All eyes were on them. Not to mention, several live video feeds. Winston and Lionell placed their paper napkins on their laps, gripping a knife and fork in their fists.
“One last finishing touch,” Lionell declared. “Waiter! Bring me some ranch.”
Magically, a student worker swept by with a ladle of ranch dressing. Lionell drowned their chicken and waffles with the stuff. The color drained from both Winston’s and Sarah’s face. Even she knew he was doomed.
When Winston was a wee lad in Trinity, he’d grown up pouring ranch dressing on his school pizza, corn nuggets, and hot dogs. But all of that had come to a halt in middle school. One day, he’d brought a cobb salad for lunch to impress the football cheerleaders. And after taking his first bite, he had pulled a long strand of gray hair out of his mouth. Courtesy of a lunch lady who had always refused to wear a hairnet. Needless to say, Winston had never touched ranch dressing ever since.
“Go, fat boy!” Lionell barked.
Winston shook the memory and dug in. He tried to saw the soggy waffle stack with a butter knife. Lionell simply grabbed a handful of food and stuffed it into his mouth. So Winston tossed his silverware aside and went to town. The syrup, ranch, butter, and chicken grease coagulated in his stomach. But he trucked through, sickened by the thought of a sunset curfew. And by now, there was a clear divide in the crowd: the faculty and staff backing Lionell and the students cheering for Winston.
“Gonna beat that bitch ass!” Lionell scoffed between bites.
Lionell was a food machine, shoveling down the first layer like he was born for it. Now Winston could eat his way out of trouble too. But the watered-down expired ranch stuck to the back of his throat. He switched his approach, fetching his napkin and wiping off each piece of bacon and chicken. He scarfed those down with ease. But the longer the waffles sat there, the more they puffed up in size as they soaked in the ranch.
“Fuck me,” Winston groaned, washing his food down with a glass of Mountain Dew. Meanwhile, Lionell looked like a mental patient, his cheeks and chin coated in grease and dressing. Winston looked down at the sweet, salty, gooey, gelatinous pile of batter. His stomach churned as he felt something rise from his stomach to his throat...
“Drink this, bro!” Sarah yelled, tilting Winston’s head back. She poured a steady stream of Pepto-Bismol into his mouth. And now, the flavor of stale bubblegum was added to the milky, tangy ranch. Time stood still. Winston suddenly imagined a tiny lunch lady sitting in that pink bottle. Holding a fishing pole. Casting a fishing line down Winston’s throat. A line made of her own hair.
Winston turned to his side and threw up on the floor.
It was over. Lionell stood to his feet, holding up a clean plate and dragging his tongue across it. Winston panted on hands and knees while Sarah and Tai lay hands on him. Gigi rushed back with a refill of Mountain Dew.
“On the bright side...I got the whole thing on video so we can still put it on your YouTube channel!” Gigi cheered.
“Wh-what? Who told you about that?” Winston looked up, feeling a second wave coming.
Before Gigi could answer, Kim came by with a mop and a bucket full of chemicals. “I clean, I clean! Remember, my daughter: cleanliness next to godliness!”
***
At 6:55 PM Sarah lay on her bunk reading an H.P. Lovecraft novel she borrowed from Evelyn. Gigi was organizing the massive pile of clean panties on the futon, courtesy of Kim. At the age of 18, she couldn’t bear the thought of her mom sorting through the different shapes, sizes, and colors. Once again, she wished lightning would just strike her dead where she stood…
Somebody knocked on the door.
“Oh, looks like curfew check,” Gigi said. “Good thing you’re already in the room!" Without looking up from the book, Sarah flipped her off. Gigi grabbed her comforter and draped it over Panty Mountain. But when she opened the door, it was Winston. He was holding a 6-foot metal pole.
“Howdy,” Winston said, slipping in and closing the door. “I heard you’re part of the Top Bunk Club, so I got ya a safety bar.”
“Oh, cool! That’s very thoughtful of you, Winston! I almost died this morning when I fell off.”
But Sarah saw right through his brother’s facade. “That’s obviously not why he’s not here,” she muttered, bookmarking her place and sitting up in bed. “He’s trying to avoid his curfew. Look, bro, can’t you just admit defeat every now and then? It sucks. But if I’m following the rules, then so can you.”
“Hey check this out, sis,” Winston proposed. He propped the safety bar against the wall and sat next to hidden Panty Mountain. “All I gots to do is hang out here for a little bit, and then we can all sneak out and go to trivia at that pizza joint downtown.”
Before they could consider it, there was a single, thunderous pound on the door. “Winston, I know yo’ ass is in there!” Lionell yelled.
“Shit,” Sarah hissed. “Quick, get in the closet!”
“Hey, I ain’t like my roommate, ya know." But Sarah grabbed Winston’s shoulders and shoved him in, closing the rasta sheet. Gigi took a breath and opened the door.
“Deputy!” Gigi greeted. “Quite the lovely post-curfew evening on campus. What say ye?”
But Lionell walked straight past her into the center of the room. He put his hands on his hips, admiring the clean and tidy living space. Sarah’s prog-rock band posters. Gigi’s bulletin board containing OCD-level to-do lists.
“Ya know, for such a cozy girls’ room,” Lionell pondered, “it sho’ smells like a boy came up in here and took a giant steamy shit.” He eyed the massive pile on the futon and grabbed a corner of the comforter. “There you are! So you think you can do whatever you want like you fucking own South App! Well, you’re fixin’ to have bruises on yo’ knees when I’m through with ya!”
Lionell flung away the comforter, revealing Gigi’s entire collection of panties. Her jaw hit the floor, and Sarah shot to her feet.
“Look, he’s not here!” Sarah asserted. “He’s back over at the cafe for wing night, stuffing his face as usual. Matter fact, he wants to meet ya there for a rematch, if you-”
But Lionell heard none of it. For the first time, the lines on his face softened, and his eyes nearly teared up at the beautiful sight. He picked up a pair of frilly, blue panties and held them in front of his face. Gigi stammered in absolute horror.
“G-get the fuck out of here, you f-fucking asshole!" Gigi spat.
Sarah lunged for the panties, but Lionell’s giant hand shoved her back onto the bed. He whipped out Winston’s revolver and pointed it square at Sarah’s forehead. “Now, now. This is between me and this little Asian piece of ass directly adjacent to me." Lionell casually gestured to Gigi with the gun before pointing it back to Sarah. “Now, Miss Gigi. Allow me to make a proposal.”
Winston watched everything unfold from behind the rasta sheet. With the closet being a few long strides away, he had no opening for a surprise attack. Especially against a Marine. He watched Lionell bring the panties up to his face and inhale deeply.
“You see,” Lionell casually explained to a mortified Gigi, tears welling up in her eyes. “I must admit, you have some mighty fine taste, as evidenced by the smorgasbord in front of me. But all I smell is detergent. Now say you...wore one of these for a few days, and then gave it back to me? Matta fact, how would you like to have your first year of tuition and books paid for? Why I’ll even sweeten the pot!" Lionell tightened the grip on his gun to remind Sarah not to try anything. “I’ll disappear from Firewater, and your two retarded boy-toys will neva have to see mah ass again. Thass right. Gigi Moon, yo’ entire tuition, fees, football tickets - everything paid in full. And you won’t eva have to work a day in a greasy dish pit or stocking shelves at Walmart. All’s you have to do is live with me in my apartment...and be my little yellow-bone slut."
Lionell reached into his tight pants and began touching himself. Winston crouched down behind the curtain. Lionell gritted his teeth, pressing the gun more firmly against Sarah’s forehead. Suddenly, Winston pushed off on his heel, emerging from behind the rasta sheet. As Lionell gasped, Winston speared him in the gut, tackling him to the ground. The gun flew out of Lionell’s hand, sliding under the futon.
“Fuck you, cunt!” Winston yelled, straddling Lionell and throwing punches at the face. Lionell struggled to free his hand, which was still stuck in his tight pants. But he caught one of Winston’s punches and rolled with him on the ground. Now Winston had a 300-pound man on top of him. Lionell struck him repeatedly with a ham-bone fist. All the while, he struggled to free his other hand from his pants.
“I take krav maga, bitch!” Sarah yelled as Gigi and Sarah took turns kicking Lionell in the ribs from either side. But Lionell shook them off like fleas, convulsing with anger in a steroid rage.
“Gigi...the gun,” Winston muttered through bleeding lips. Lionell flung Sarah against the wall, apparently knocking her out. Gigi nodded, dashing toward the futon, while Lionell finally freed his hand from his pants.
“Open yo’ mouth, motherfucka,” Lionell roared. He gripped Winston’s throat with one hand while raising that other smelly, sweaty hand to Winston’s mouth. “You gonna learn today,” Lionell whispered, jamming his entire fist, finger-by-finger, into his mouth. “You gonna taste what it means to be conquered by a motherfuckin’ BBC, you filthy little - *OOOF*!”
Lionell froze, his eyes shooting wide open. And slowly, he leaned to the side, capsizing like a ship. He fell unconscious. Through blurry eyes, Winston saw Gigi gripping the safety bar like a katana.
“Um...turns out that was a pretty thoughtful gift!” Gigi cheered.
***
An hour later, half of Firewater Hall congregated in the main lobby. They gossipped among themselves while a cop car drove off with former Deputy Lionell Hardy. The four freshmen sat on a sofa in the corner, sipping Starbucks.
“Holy shit,” Tai reacted after the others recapped the fight. “That asshole must have been roided up to be able to take all you guys on!”
“Tell me about it,” Winston groaned, pressing his Frappuccino up to his swollen cheek. “I don’t know if I’d be here if Gigi hadn’t gone Mark McGuire on his ass.”
Gigi sipped her Frappuccino as she tried to figure out whether that was the name of a Renaissance painter or NASCAR driver.
“Well, I would’ve saved the day with my deadly roundhouse kicks,” Sarah declared proudly, standing to her feet. “If only Gigi would have distracted him like I asked.”
Gigi took her shoe off and threw it at her. The four freshmen laughed. And interrupting the playful banter was a middle-aged blonde lady with a short bob haircut. She stood on top of a chair and cleared her throat.
“Excuse me, I need everyone’s attention, please. I’m Karen, Director of the Resident Assistants Program here on campus.”
“She totes looks like a Karen,” a sorority girl whispered. Another smart-ass in the crowd made a police siren noise with his mouth.
“Why, yes,” Karen continued. “Sometimes known colloquially as the, um...Campus 5-0. Now then! I see we have had quite the eventful evening in Firewater. And that is why I want to address the status of our…unmonitored 300 Hall." Winston and Tai suddenly perked their ears up. “Effective immediately, the 300 Hall will no longer be under direct R.A. supervision.”
Winston’s and Tai’s jaws dropped to their floor as they exchanged goofy-ass smiles.
Karen held her hand in the air to stop the commotion. “Yes, yes. I do want to advise you. That doesn’t mean that there will be no law and order on the 300 Hall. Underage drinking and weed are serious offenses that could have you expelled and put away in prison for the rest of your life. I assure you that the other R.A.’s are liable at any time to monitor the 300 Hall at their own discretion. Have a good night, and be safe.”
Most students began filing back up to their rooms. But an all-too-familiar face pranced up to Gigi and crossed her arms in front of her slim waist.
“Oh! My-a poor Gigi!” Kim cooed, wrapping her arms around her daughter and kissing her forehead. “I wish I still be here protect you from bad man. But it look like mah service no longer needed anymore.”
Gigi tilted her head to the side, staring at Kim’s cheerful expression. Then Gigi slowly panned over to Sarah, whose face tensed up, trying to hold back a laugh.
“What’s...what’s going on?” Gigi asked them.
“It worked!” Sarah snickered. “Oh, my God, it fucking worked!" Winston and Tai stopped discussing hallway Slip-and-Slide plans to listen in.
“I’m so confused?” Gigi laughed nervously.
“Oh, Gigi...you are almost as naive as you are kind!” Sarah said condescendingly. “Why, Kim was never your R.A. in the first place. Alas, t’was all a masterful plan concocted by yours truly. And Kim played the part beautifully, I might add.”
Sarah gave Kim a golf clap while Kim crossed her legs and gave a polite curtsy.
“But Mom! If you’re not my R.A….then who is?”
“I am,” interrupted Evelyn, the front desk security. She set down her book and walked over to them. She was looking a little less emo than usual with her curly jet-black hair. Yet, she still found it in her heart to don ripped jeans and grey painted nails. “Now don’t you worry, kid,” Evelyn said, putting her arm around Gigi’s shoulder. “If you’re gonna smoke and drink, just keep it out of plain sight. If I see it, then you have to share it. Capiche?"
Gigi slowly nodded her head, her throbbing head trying to process it all. “Oh, and one more thing,” Evelyn added. “No threesomes in the bathroom, please. We don’t have HAZMAT suits, ya know. Just keep that shit in the room, and we’ll be good." Evelyn gave Sarah a side-eye. “Unless it’s a female threesome, of course.”
***
Back in the girls’ room, Gigi’s laundry was put away, Winston’s blood was cleaned up, and the safety bar was secured on the top bunk. At her desk, she typed away at her Honors Program admissions essay. Sarah and Evelyn lounged on the futon, swearing at each other over an intense Mario Kart race. And as Gigi tried to form a thesis on why dental hygienists were more important than brain surgeons, her phone buzzed. A text from Winston.
Hey, can you come down here and bring me my gun? My hands are tied right now. It’s under the futon, right?
Gigi walked over to the futon and got down on hands and knees, blocking the gamers’ view of the TV. Sarah scoffed while Gigi crawled under the futon and reached as far back as she could, feeling around for the gun.
“Damn it, Gigi - you messed up my blue shell!” Sarah complained, flinging her controller across the room.
“Aww, don’t fuss at her,” Evelyn teased, staring down at Gigi’s smooth, toned legs that stuck out from beneath the futon. “She’s so fun-sized!”
Gigi crawled out and shot to her feet with the revolver in hand. “Careful what you say, roomie,” she said. “You were knocked out, so you didn’t bear witness to my epic sword skills! I don’t think you wanna provoke a ninja with a gun!”
“You’re holding it upside down,” Sarah sighed.
“Oh.”
Gigi stashed the revolver in her purse and headed down to the 300 Hall. She raised her hand to knock...then decided that, after today, the four of them were officially on a “no-knock” basis.
“Hi, boys!” Gigi cheered, opening the door. Winston sat in a chair in front of the mirror while Tai stood behind him, styling his hair to the side with pomade. Winston was dressed in a white collared shirt, a grey tie to match his dress pants, and snakeskin cowboy boots. “Wow, Winston,” Gigi mouthed in awe. “You look....um, different! Is that sandalwood?”
“Yeeep,” Tai answered, pulling out a razor and trimming Winston’s beard. “Our man no longer smells like a gym locker room. And I’m sure she will appreciate that.”
“Oh...and who might that be?” Gigi asked suspiciously.
“Miss Claire Dansby,” Winston answered, lighting a cigarette while Tai worked behind him. “I reckon we’ll be running into her tonight.”
“Oh, um...cool! Is she going to be on our trivia team? I mean, after today I think the four of us make a pretty good team, but another brain couldn’t hurt!”
Tai and Winston averted their eyes. An awkward silence while the razor buzzed.
“Yeah, Gigi,” Winston trailed off, taking a drag. “There’s been a change in plans. Claire is actually hosting karaoke at a bar downtown. It’ll just be me and Tai tonight. We’ll have to take a rain check on trivia. Sorry ’bout that.”
“I’m his wingman for Claire!” Tai interjected, wiping Winston’s face with a hot towel.
Gigi just stood there as Tai worked his magic, transforming this good ole country boy into a future country star. And as the scent of sandalwood flooded her nostrils again, she knew she had to leave the room. Not because she hated it, but because she was afraid to admit that she loved it.
“Well, in that case,” Gigi began, placing her hand on the doorknob. “I hope you find immediate gratification in crafting twangy southern anthems for a bonafide like-minded Alabama ten! I do regret to inform you that the proper authorities have confiscated your metal-projecting apparatus!”
Blank stares from Winston and Tai.
“I mean...have fun with your woman! And it looks like the police took your gun as evidence.”
Before Winston could respond, Gigi was already in the stairwell, heading back up to her room. Sarah and Evelyn were on their feet with controllers in hand, screaming at Mortal Kombat.
“Get over here, you fucking asshole!” Sarah yelled, mashing buttons.
“I don’t think I shall!” Evelyn retorted in a British accent. “Looks like you’re…frozen in fear!”
Gigi silently walked past them. She sat down at her computer and typed the first thing that came to her mind: My name is Gigi Moon, and I should be in the Honors Program because I have no fucking social skills whatsoever. But tonight, I proved that I can make up for it with my epic ninja skills!
Only 4,963 words to go, she thought.
But very little writing was done that night while Sarah and Evelyn mashed buttons and took turns screaming “Fatality!” at the top of their lungs. Finally, Gigi put her headphones on. She pulled up YouTube and searched for Feng Shui of the Gut. A hundred videos of Winston’s old ridiculous eating challenges.
One of the most popular videos caught Gigi’s eye: I [email protected]#KED UP! STRANDED ON THE TOILET. She clicked Play. Right away, there was a close-up of a younger and skinnier Winston, no older than 16. The camera was zoomed on his clean-shaven face. And yes, he was clearly sitting on the toilet.
Yee-haw, fellers!” greeted Young Winston, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Welcome back to Feng Shui of the Gut. Earlier today, I decided to scarf down a five-pound bag of Sugar-Free Haribo Gummy Bears! I’m sorry, did I say today?" Winston leaned forward until his face filled the entire frame. “I meant yesterday! I’ve been stuck on this (BLEEP)ing toilet for 24 (BLEEP)ing hours!
Maybe it was procrastination that kept Gigi glued to the screen. Maybe it was morbid curiosity. But while Sarah and Evelyn took turns ripping each others’ spines out and lighting each other on fire, Gigi binged through all 100 of Winston’s old videos. Most revealing were dozens of fast food reviews. In these videos, Winston would eat a burger in his truck while talking about politics, religion, and women. He even went on a 10-video spree chronicling his war against a yellow jacket colony at his mom’s place.
When Gigi’s head hit the pillow at 3 AM, she felt as if she knew Winston Arnold Beavers better than she knew herself. Most notably: chicken wings was his favorite food, curry would make him dig a hole if there wasn’t a toilet nearby, and he absolutely positively despised ranch dressing.
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