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U GO DOWN 101010101

2023.05.28 03:39 moishepesach U GO DOWN 101010101

Tonight scrawled in blood red chalk, in front of the steps of my old south Brooklyn walk-up, read the words, "U GO DOWN 101010101".
I have to tell this tale in case something happens to me and I don't get another chance.
It all began with lunch.
"I once threw a cat out a window!" he blurted, mouth full of burrito. He was my new manager. His name was Tony.
"Was there a fire?" I asked.
"Naw man!" Tony responded, his voice no longer just edgy. It was now agitated too.
"Were you on the first floor?" I asked.
I tried a slow deep breath through my nostrils. I felt my trapezius muscles tense.
"Naw! It wasn't no first floor!" Tony retorted. The edge sharper. The agitation more frenzied.
Now his full mouth soliloquy gnashed meth fast. I blinked hard.
"Why did you do that?" I asked, releasing the breath that could never have been deep enough for this meshugge.
But here I was. Tony was the one who interviewed and hired me when nobody else wanted to. And now Tony looked warpath angry.
"I DON'T KNOW!" he barked. A man and a woman with ID cards around their necks looked up from their big salads then quickly away. Their faces wore an uncomfortable look.
I was jealous. I wished I was merely uncomfortable. What I was, was raging nauseous. I could feel adrenaline enter my stomach with acid and gravitas.
My skin was crawling beneath the July sun while the yachts bobbed nonchalantly in the marina behind our office as we ate our lunch.
This was my third day on the job. And it was right then and there I heard that little voice in my head that I was first introduced to at the age of five when my parents split inform me, once again, "I was doomed."
I thought of my bank account. I thought of rent. I thought about my advancing age. I thought about the job interview at a big bank I had just walked out of two weeks before that. Why had I walked out? Because the dude wrote down a bunch of names of fruit down on a piece of paper with associated prices and then a kumquat with no price and asked me how much it would cost.
Like I say, I had a relationship with IT full stack development gigs and the inevitable egos, irrationalities and EMO like prima donna pettiness the way Sean Penn had a relationship with paparazzi in the 1980s.
And there it was again. That little familiar voice whispering in my ear; dude; you are fucking doomed like Christ on the cross. You are doomed like Joan of Arc at a French fry. You are doomed like the third season of Family Guy. You are Charlie Brown football interruptus doomed.
So, after spending the better part of the last twenty-five years as a software developer, engineer or whatever the cool kids are calling my job these days I can tell you this with no equivocation; I.T. consulting sucks.
Why does it suck?
Firstly, as a consultant or sub-contractor you are not subject to the vast majority of rules, regulations and policies that protect the full time corporate employee from being treated like a disposable object. Generally speaking you are subject to one and only one rule; the golden rule; i.e.; they who's got the gold makes the rules. And, I thought I was okay with that. I've tried full time work and my soul bled.
Hell, I wouldn't even be a consultant if my comic book mail order subscription club hadn't gone belly up during the infamous Comic Book Distributor Wars of the mid to late 1990s. But I don't feel sorry for myself; sometimes a dream ends in bliss and sometimes, or always in my case; fiasco. But I never believed in evil before. I never looked into a face and saw true evil. I can't say that anymore.
Well, like I said I knew IT consulting sucks but what I did not know is the operation I'm sub-contracting for is being terrorized by a malevolent spirit more evil and insidious than anything I've ever dealt with. And about the only thing I am absolutely certain of is the malevolent force is not feline.
Fast forward a couple of years later and I have witnessed Tony yell at my colleagues at the top of lungs menacingly; ladies who had given over three decades of their lives to the company at the top of his lungs. I have seen Tony shred everybody's code always finding a reason why it was unacceptable.
I have seen Tony get three other consultants fired for being, "unable to do the job," after he lied about non-existent memory leaks to Mohan that turned out to be simple configuration issues he prevented my predecessors from fixing.
But somehow, perhaps because I grew up with a crazy mad single divorced Mom I knew how to read Tony. Slowly I put together my resources and made lateral moves with Tony's boss Mohan that continuously minimized my time with Tony. And then I was granted full time remote status.
I thought we were free of Tony.
And then Mohan informed us a couple of weeks ago we were subject to a disaster recovery exercise and I had to build a new version of our application and deploy it to a new site in less than twenty-four hours. And that's when Tony began to shred me and my team's work.
He cornered me in a meeting and told me, "You can lose your job. I don't think you can do it. It's not the 80s anymore! It's not the 80s! Get it? You shbot down my idea to trash the data dictionary and rewrite that old piece of shit! You made me look bad! Yea, you can lose your job!"
"Tony, if that's the case I will just thank you all for a wonderful two years or so. I've met so many wonderful people. But I have a call so if you'll excuse me I have a hard stop now."
"Yea! No problem! No problem!" Tony barked untruthfully.
I called a meeting with Elena and Dina. They had been there running the main system for over thirty years. They had worked with all my predecessors. They had watched them disappear into the aether as one by one they had incurred Tony's wrath and then, had poisoned Mohan against them. And then they were gone. I told Elena and Dina I had gone to Mohan and I was going to tell tales.
Later that day two years of evil bubbled to the surface. The cat. Tony's spastic-macho stories of how he always wielded a baseball bat in hand whenever answering the front door of his Bronx home.
Tony had once explained to me; "I'm from the Bronx! I hate liars. I know jiu-jitsu and I can dead-lift 400 lbs. Anybody rollup on my front door looking for trouble; batter up!"
The following Monday after the cat incident Tony, mouth full of donut turned to me and said, "I was at Chuck E. Cheese with my son and he bit this kid and the mother came up to my son and I said, 'OHNONOBODYCOMEUPTOMYSON!!!!!IWASGONNA!'"
And there I was finally, two years later in a meeting with Mohan and our chief compliance office, Dave. I felt the dam burst.
I told Mohan how Tony had once screamed at Elena on my fourth day on the job in front of the office so loud that my ear drums hurt for hours. I told him how once Daisy, the nice lady who was the office admin and my friend who watched sunsets with me and sat next to us offered him a homemade cookie once.
Tony barked, his three chins trembling with rage, "I don't eat candy!"
Daisy, unperturbed, offered me a cookie. I gratefully accepted and as Daisy walked away Tony swiveled at me, eyes unnaturally red, spittle dripping from the corner of his mouth blurting out, "I hate DAISY!"
Six months later Daisy was dead. There had never been an announcement formally. It was just casually mentioned in a meeting. I was bereft.
And there I was, for the first time in my entire life, ratting someone out to their boss.
I finished telling my twisted Tony tales to Mohan.
Mohan asked Dina and Elena if what I said was true.
Elena explained that Tony was a bully and had humiliated people in meetings for things that they simply never did or he had misunderstood. Dina explained people had made remarks or complained informally countless times and that things were, "not very pleasant with Tony."
Finally, when all was said done Mohan said, "Well, I can't have silos. Tony is our top architect. I need you to still meet with him regularly and I need this disaster recovery done fast."
"He threw a cat out a window, Mohan!" I heard myself exclaim. "I don't think we can trust him with a disaster recovery. I think he's a disaster waiting to happen."
Mohan looked at me and said, "I have worked with some evil horrible people. Sometimes we all have to. If I am nothing you know that I am pragmatic."
"I won't give him any oxygen," I heard my voice say. "I have to go. We'll have to find a way around but right now I'm too upset for this meeting."
A few days later a recruiter called me with a job that seemed my perfect escape.
It turned out it was at my company doing the exact same thing I do.
The recruiter said, "Man, I think something is up."
I thanked him. He didn't have to do that.
The next day I was told by Mohan I have until Friday to simulate a disaster and recovery in 24 hours.
It feels like a setup.
Then tonight I saw it in the chalk.
U GO DOWN 101010101
I looked around and I thought I saw an ominous fat fucking figure that looked like Tony under the tears of the weeping willow that stands guard over the community garden across the street from my apartment.
I turned and broke into a jog to cross the street. Then with the Doppleresque certainty of the alarm's increasing red glare I was prevented by an FDNY ambulance from crossing.
When it finally passed there was no sign of Tony.
But, even more disturbingly, when I went back to take a picture of the red chalked threat at the foot of my building; it too was gone.
Just. Gone.
I am not superstitious. I am a rational person and I know what I saw. I know what I saw.
The dread I feel now in the pit of my stomach is like none other and somewhere in the distance I hear the sound of a tortured cat's mewling. I feel like I am the victim in a crime not yet committed.
Please advise?
submitted by moishepesach to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 03:36 Deatrimna Between edison, linden, and ocean township in NJ which one is better

Which one has better working environment, I am trying to work full time and see if they have a part time in a couple of months
submitted by Deatrimna to AmazonDSPDrivers [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 03:13 bewbies- A thank you from a grateful father to the participants, producers, and fans of Battlebots

My main memory of the first Battlebots episode was how murderously hot it was in my dorm room. There was a heat wave that week, and believe it not, this was still an era when air conditioning was not a standard feature of dorms at large state universities.
I'd just started my freshman year of college, and I'd had BATTLEBOTS circled on my shared dry erase calendar for a couple of weeks beforehand. I don't really know what it called out to me as it did; I wasn't (and still am not) electrically, mechanically, or mathematically inclined. I had no background whatsoever in robotics (and still don't). I didn't even know robot combat was a thing until seeing a commercial for it on Comedy Central, of all places. But, it grabbed me and has never let go. I watched those early seasons religiously in those pre-DVR dark ages, even pretending in front of my college girlfriends that the fights consisting of two wedges ineffectually pushing one another around the box were stupendously entertaining.
Fast forward 15 years: I'm now married with a dumb grownup job and stupid "responsibilities" and out of the ether comes a BATTLEBOTS reboot and I felt the same excitement I had when I was 18. My wife (and, eventually kids) had to accept my unfettered love of this nerd affair, eventually being roped into it themselves. Kids more than the wife, whom I would lovingly describe as "tolerant."
My littlest was not even an embryo when the reboot started, and I just finished watching the finale with him having just completed kindergarten yesterday. My original love for the show was predicated largely on seeing robots get wrecked, but as I've grown older and maybe more sentimental, my thirst for destruction was gradually superseded by a love and respect for the culture and ethos of the community. This is why I wanted to write an open thank-you letter.
The media landscape for kids nowadays is just a mess. It isn't all BAD necessarily, but it is complex, and pervasive, and an awful lot of it is stupid or ugly or otherwise unhealthy, and in a world where a LOT of kiddos seem to have unhealthy relationships with their digital devices. It is an absolute joy to know that there's at least one show -- that even manages to appeal to both me and my kids -- where so many good and positive messages are a constant feature (in between robot carnage.)
When we watch Battlebots, we see a huge variety of personal backgrounds, people of color, people from all over the world, the old, young, and very young all competing together. We see hard work and dedication to a very difficult challenge. We see brilliant women leading teams in a STEM field, and we get to see the best god damn fight announcer on the planet -- who also happens to be Black and presumably Muslim (seriously though, how is he not calling fights on PPV or HBO or something). We get to see class and sportsmanship after amazing wins and gut-wrenching losses, all a part of a community that seems to represent everything a community should be, even in the face of incredibly intense competition. Also this season, we got some examples of less positive behavior, although I'd argue those examples fit just as well into this "battlebots is life" discussion as the good stuff.
Past just the parenting stuff, I think the show has a real role to play in the world at large. My kid's kindergarten class all love the show, and they're already starting to make their own little "combat robots" out of legos or construction paper or popsicle sticks or whatever because they want to be like the big kids with their big robots they see on TV. Their generation is going to charge out into the world and change it for the better, in part, because they were inspired as little folk to take on hard tasks like "build a robot."
Here's a video of my youngest doing his very best Faruq imitation a few years ago. I think he's introducing Witch Doctor? Hard to tell.
I thought I'd post this here as it seems a lot of the actual teams are active in addition to a lot of fans of the show. Keep it up. You guys are doing a lot more than just shredding robots.
submitted by bewbies- to battlebots [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 02:50 Crafty-Driver-9002 Lakers game 3

Lakers game 3 submitted by Crafty-Driver-9002 to nbacirclejerk [link] [comments]

2023.05.28 00:27 Manas_78 Need some tips on my updated resume

Urgently looking for a job but no luck as of now..........really need some tips to improve the CV
submitted by Manas_78 to resumes [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 20:32 TheAnonymouseJoker GrapheneOS – Corporate FOSS loving witch hunting crybullies feat. PrivacyGuides and DivestOS

Hello! I have been sitting on top of this since a year, and now is the perfect time to voice it out. Enough is enough! I have been on the lookout for this dreaded group since years, and even though I covered this group largely before, it is essential to cover rest of the elements I could not give space to in my previous expose writeups, due to lack of ample evidence and sheer amounts of writing that does not allow enough space for one particular group.
This Canadian (yes, took time to know that) group of trolls is nothing significant today, thanks to largely efforts of people dishing out ample evidence about them, but they tend to fabricate way too much lies in a concerted manner across Reddit, 4chan, YouTube comments and the like, all while simultaneously fabricating boogeymen cabals that apparently attack them. Today, even Louis Rossmann has felt the wrath.
It is critically important to trace and decode the patterns of their workings and Kiwifarms-like behaviour on internet, and I see this group as the next big threat to privacy community, simply because they have been persistent and think they are unstoppable.
My aim is to try to stay objective throughout as much as I can. I also want to mention that this is a lore that basically nobody other than me has tracked in this depth (arguably Techlore has enough material), and nobody else carries a record of these events in this manner to date.


I have been more curious than anyone else, trying to decode his behaviour psychologically to the best of my capabilities and experience on internet by myself. This person is claimed to be either mentally ill or narcissistic by various people, as of now. But I do not think he is simply narcissistic, because he consciously and responsibly knows very well what he does. As I show you screenshots of DivestOS incident, you will know why.


I will describe events in a chronological order since last year's "criticism of ... 4 years of evidence" magnum opus I wrote, making this the 5th year of "security" entities in FOSS community continuing to engage in awkward behaviours and exploiting the lack of expertise of ordinary folks who skim through various privacy communities. I recommend going through this first if you want to know everything about the backstory about privacy community's related issues. (


I read a couple of years ago somewhere, GrapheneOS describing how they are an embargo security partner. However, I cannot find those reddit comments anymore, so the next best option is a tweet from August 2022 by the horse's mouth. One person alone building monthly patches for years for supported Pixels compared to Google Inc seems like quite an impossibly tall order to me.


Exactly one day after I published the 4 year criticism magnum opus on May 1 2022, what I see on the afternoon of May 2 2022 is this.
One long thesis with zero citations. Hubris. This guy loves to talk about character assassination after pissing off people, and when he gets civilly criticised, this happens.
You can remove the part ( and check currently how Jonah Aragon, head of PrivacyGuides, fully endorses these claims, and to this day, has a shared moderator (mbananasynergy) with GrapheneOS subreddit (earlier it was B0risGrishenk0/Tommy_tran whose new alt is Privsec_dev). You may also check how after a year, the post mostly has [deleted] users and comments, all being GrapheneOS sockpuppets and harassers abusing pseudonymity offered by Reddit. These are the people that scream everyday how sockpuppet harassment occurs to them.
He did this on Twitter as well.
In the tweets down the chain, he says:
That person is a tankie who supports authoritarian governments and peddles lies for them [...] It might as well be official CCP propaganda too.
Is there any problem with liking certain countries that you hate, because of geopolitical preferences and news media propaganda? How xenophobe can you be, to think Indians/Asians must like same geopolitical narratives as Canadians/Westerners? I do not believe in Western nationalist tropes, and I think it is fair for everyone to have this freedom.


Here is the moderation list of GrapheneOS. Here is it, straight from the horse's mouth.


There has been a recent incident from late April 2023 (a month ago) where Daniel Micay claimed he has faced a swatting attempt (attempt to raid house and murder), and a certain CP and gore spammer flooded GrapheneOS chatrooms with this type of nasty troll content, but in one month, he has NOT provided any evidence. Moreover, he claimed Royal Canadian Metropolitan Police (RCMP) is investigating this matter, and then proceeded to lockdown the GrapheneOS Off-Topic Matrix chatroom (place of claimed incident) for sometime.
For context in follow up, Lemmy is a free and open source federated Reddit alternative, that is fully federated with Mastodon, Twitter's free and open rival.
This faux threatening using Canadian police's credentials reminded me of a very similar incident that I faced at Lemmy from two moderators (akc3n from GrapheneOS and dngray from PrivacyGuides) on behalf of Micay. I am the moderator of c/privacy at Lemmy, and this was their failed attempt at trying to rage bait me into reacting hastily, causing administration to revoke my moderation powers, so that GrapheneOS trolls could make Lemmy their next place of habitat, something I protect Lemmy from.
During this incident, due to the chaos that the tag team of GrapheneOS and PrivacyGuides (remember they still have shared moderator after Tommy?) caused, one Lemmy administrator warned me, because they got scared about the name of police being involved. Tommy_Tran/Privsec_dev proceeded to get me banned from Lemmy c/privacy's Matrix chatroom by tag teaming with dngray (PrivacyGuides moderator) to bait the moderator of that Matrix chatroom in believing I was the troll. Tommy took over soon enough and changed the room into some Windows/GrapheneOS Security crap, and later the moderator of Matrix chatroom itself moved off of (Lemmy's main instance) onto (coincidentally a Canadian instance). I do not know if these Canadians are friends or just fellow countrymen, but what they did was insanely evil. (Instances are like separate websites that can still operate like they are the same forum/website.)
Screenshot of c/privacy Matrix room takeover and trolling behind my back, knowing what they have pulled off:


Another horse and his mouth. N-n-neighhh!!! Since Reddit made API paid and Pushshift archival service has said goodbye forever, I can only show you the thread with barely any comments leftover as proof combined with the screenshot I preserved from back then.
Tommy loves Micay so much, he started to accuse me of being a Chinese government shill in exactly the same way Micay did in May 2022.
Now a ghost town of comments: (
Screenshot: (see the blue highlighted portion at the very end, at about 20% height from below)


Yes, this happened, and this is my favourite part as far as everything GrapheneOS head/mods have done to date. As dramatic as it sounds, Micay in realtime, in DivestOS' XMPP chatroom, was accusing me of the typical "harassment ringleader campaign" BS, and ordered DivestOS/Mull developer (these are his aliases) SubZer0Carnage/Tad/SkewedZeppelin that if I was not banned immediately, DivestOS and him would face social media targeted campaign and DivestOS will have to forcibly pull off any borrowed GrapheneOS code. DivestOS developer dusted his hands off me, since he does not like me apparently for liking some closed source software and he benefits off of the crybully. Also, unlike the crybully, I have never harassed or harmed anyone because I have a moral conscience to not be an abusive asshole on internet, so he will face no issues on my end.
Screenshot 1:
Screenshot 2 continuation:


See, the point is Google and Apple are spyware/ad companies at the end of the day, and it does not matter if you need to use their services due to necessity. The technicality of it does not change, and people simply make privacy compromises for convenience or out of necessity. I do not have anything against that. What I am against though is this weaseling being done in privacy community, knowing people want to prevent privacy abuse from corporations and governments.
I use Windows (and Linux) daily according to how I laid it out in my computing guide in a very private and secure manner. I understand the use cases of common people extremely well, even better than just about all of privacy community, having been a Windows user all my life and daily driving Linux exclusively since 6 years (now dual boot).
These specimens come and evangelically claim how Google and Apple do not spy on people, and how "degoogling" is a nonsensical concept. The reality is, basically all of these peoples' knowledge other than Micay and DivestOS dev, is as good or worse than a first year sophomore computer science student. They mostly parrot the typical points that they formulate based upon things they would hear in their own little world of shitty security blogs, reddit and whatever proficionados like Micay and developers at XDA would blabber about, creating reductionist notions in their head they can just preach around.


I do not know enough to be able to browse every YouTube comment section of every tech related video made on custom ROMs on phones, but what I know is Luke Smith is fairly popular among Western youngsters regarding tech topics. He is a more extreme version of Mental Outlaw, for those that are clueless.
When I saw this, I was astounded. Cellebrite is an Israeli cybersecurity company whose phone exfiltrating kits cost upwards of $1 million, and are only purchasable for government agencies like TSA, police and forensic departments. This company purchases 0day vulnerabilities in commonly used smartphone apps which allows them to run their phone hacking government nexus. How are these GrapheneOS people buying million dollar kits when Micay only has one desktop computer for his GrapheneOS ROM binary compilation? The answer is - it is a lie attempted to be spread like rumour.
One would think, why would anyone be concerned about going this far? I am usually the person who people try to follow on, since I pose good questions regarding a lot of things. In this case, the question would be: if GrapheneOS claims bootloader lock security for protection against Evil Maid and other bootloader attacks, is it secure against phone hacking kits at airports or against state actors? Has GrapheneOS' security ever been vetted independently? Since regular Joe on the street is not a proficionado, would it be okay to ensure selling claims of such extreme security of GrapheneOS is battle tested? People started asking these questions that always went unanswered. You get the idea.


If you go to any of the 4Chan archives for /g/ board, and search "graphene" or "pixel", you will find both of these mentioned together many times, which is a very interesting phenomenon. This is known as astroturfing. Here is a compilation of /g/ comments from the last 6 months.
privacy suffered the same and sheltered Micay against all criticism until last month when Micay accused privacy moderators of sheltering claimed CP/gore spammer and swatter, followed by a lot of vote manipulation and sockpuppet brigading, leading to privacy shutting down all discussions relating to any specific AOSP custom ROMs.


This is the spiciest part for most people in the know about this, and it has been one whole month since the claims. However, neither local Canadian news media has reported anything on something that would be as significant as swatting a software developer, nor has he presented evidence upon being asked by numerous users. Upon being asked, Micay has either ghosted or banned people, or accused them of being complicit in his self-proclaimed attempted murder.
What he is doing here is using psychological trickery of dead cat strategy, creating a loop of "mysterious" act that only he and his 2-3 moderator friends know about but have, upon being repeatedly requested by dozens, denied to give a shred of evidence, and has attempted to use this dirty sensationalist act to gain sympathy. He has also utilised the effect, until now, of relying on the goldfish attention span of masses regarding world events, so that people forget questioning his shocking claims and think his gospel is the immortalised truth.
Moreover, he has a history of never giving any evidence for his claims he has made over the years. Techlore and I have noted and documented this dozens of times at this point, and one Reddit user involved with using GrapheneOS undertook the effort to do this as well.
In the past 24 hours, after Rossmann's video came out, Micay announced that not just is he claiming to step down as developer of GrapheneOS, but that "police know about the swatting situation and are preventing it happening again". How did it go from blocking and ghosting dozens of people upon asking for evidence, to a month later claiming "oh all is good I am quitting social media have a nice day"? Is everyone this gullible? Is there no course of action, or no accountability to present evidence publicly (let alone block users asking) for the duration of an entire month? Nobody is asking for CP material, and evidence of such incident could have easily been shown. Micay engages on social media almost everyday, in a terminally online manner. The reality is, he is escaping accountability after failing to get sympathy from baseless sensationalist claims. Dead cat strategy works until it does not, and people hate being taken as fools for long enough.


The incident that happened with me from June 2022, in a nutshell, is faux RCMP (Canadian police) threats in order to sensationalise and scare off me and Lemmy's admins into thinking I was onto some serious wrongdoings, creating an image of things that never happened or never will happen. The exact same scare off tactics happened with Micay's fresh claims in late April 2023, which constitutes psychological manipulation of privacy and Android community users to gain attention at all costs. Bad PR is good PR, and good PR is great PR.


This is the compilation post.
The only ever real conflict that materialised enough into a spat, where I did support Micay, was when CopperheadOS CEO James Donaldson and him had their catfight going on, and when Donaldson asked me in DMs to harass Micay in an organised manner. I protected Micay.
Coming to basically every single claim Micay has made about me, Techlore, CalyxOS, F-Droid, Bromite, FlorisBoard developers/heads and so on... Micay has NEVER EVER provided proof justifying his claims. That is right, NEVER, not in a single case. All he has ever done, is scream and shout sensationally, utilising dead cat strategy over the years. There does exist a reason for why he has done all this, which I will elaborate on in a section below.


privacy has now purged comments of these Graphene/Pixel zealots, but there was a certain phenomenon that started after the Black Friday/Christmas sale regarding how financially "accessible" Pixels were, leading these single origin sockpuppets and astroturfers to spam comments with this theme in every "phone recommendation" post/thread. After the Black Friday sales ended, they went ahead and started recommending Swappa/Craigslist used handsets over anything else, with the idea that if you do not buy Pixel, you might as well be directly streamed 24/7 live to 3 letter spook agents. How much more elitist, misleading and toxic can one be when trying to improve privacy of average people?


It is known among Google Pixel buyers and USA/Canada phone buyers, that Pixels have extremely limited availability by country. The amount of mental gymnastics required for someone to tell they need to travel by airplane to other countries to get one specific phone, if they want to have any privacy and security on a phone, forces me to say this - you need medical assistance. When a community goes ahead to do this, what will be your reaction? Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.
Here you go.


Tommy was originally made the moderator of PrivacyGuides (PG) exactly one day after he published the "false privacy prophet" post on me (, a post that had no evidence, and trended for an entire month at PG. This person has been a key member and friend of GrapheneOS mods and Micay himself. He thoroughly ensured that Micay's personal grudge based ideas were echoed through PG, and fellow mods like dngray, trai_dep and Jonah fully supported this. akc3n, a fellow GrapheneOS moderator, was always active in threads with them, essentially heavily controlling participation of users at every level. This sounds as ridiculous to me as it does to you, and to this day (May 27 2023), mbananasynergy is a shared moderator between GrapheneOS and PG. You might wonder, the subheading above has still not been addressed. How did I get silenced? Read below.
The exchange between Jonah Aragon and me.


Reddit's decision to cripple Pushshift's archival service is intentional. It allows to generate negativity and drama, which will lead to more internet traffic like how Elon Musk loves the new "town square" Twitter. More internet traffic translates to more value when Reddit becomes public entity for shareholders. This causes a nerve busting headache for sitewide moderation, and everyone knows it.
GrapheneOS, as demonstrated and as observed by basically everyone, is extremely formidable at sockpuppet trolling and witch hunting of critics. The definition of a "critic" for them is anyone who does not worship GrapheneOS. Period. Louis Rossmann sees how this makes sense, and so does everyone else. Refer to the "HOW GRAPHENEOS WITCH HUNTS ANY OF ITS CRITICS" section above.


A little angry rant on privacy community as a whole
Privacy community seriously is pathetic in keeping people accountable and vetting the products/tools and their developers, for all the vigilante preaching that goes on in here. It took me to create privatelife and bring some change, and I do not know how much change has been brought about. People just want to look good, nobody cares about actual democracy and putting in the effort to maintain it. Everyone wants their hands clean, expecting others to do the watchdog job, and nobody ends up standing in the crowd. I am from India and I should care zilch about privacy community filled with "democratic westerners" not standing up for themselves, and living like sheep in a dictatorship of some FOSS, corporate and closed source developers/entities. Why do people want to dust their hands off of everything like X or Y incident has nothing to do with them? Where did the concept of solidarity go? Why does nobody want to hold people accountable for being assholes?


Rossmann came out yesterday with a descriptive video with a screen recording of his chat with Micay, where Micay accused him of all that he has gone to accuse literally everyone under the sun during the past month, and folks like me during the past few years. Some reddit users have been targeted with the same, and found solace in talking to me and whatever I have documented on Micay and his acolytes, among other topics and groups.
Rossmann's video on uninstalling GrapheneOS:
The video is gaining attention because of how much goodwill Rossmann's deeds towards Apple repairing and Right to Repair movement has garnered over the past 10-15 years. And he is a good person. My only disappointment with him has been missing the mark on, and being silent on GrapheneOS all this while. I get his reasons of benevolence towards FOSS projects, but we need to be stricter about social conduct. Nothing excuses being a horrible person, as far as civil discourse goes.


More than almost anyone else, I have been interested in why he turned out like this. I will preface this by saying I do not fully believe he is autistic, and even if he is, it does not explain this kind of "me versus the world" impulsive behaviour.
Last year, sometime after he wrote that "paid Chinese government agent" comment on me, I decided to try to genuinely sympathise with him for one more time and see his response. (feel free to read with context
He went silent on me and stopped attacking me. Considering I have documented his behaviour for a few years, I have a well supported conjecture that is better than "BPD/schizo".
Originally, Micay made the memory allocation hardening patch for Linux kernel, but never got a fulfilling wealthy life or career out of it, considering how many of his years later went down quarrelling with CopperheadOS' Donaldson. He quit Copperhead organisation to maintain his fork under the name of GrapheneOS, which is a free open source project. Lack of success in life is the first condition fulfilled.
The second part of this consists of many smaller parts.
I noted last year how in the below reddit thread/screenshot, Daniel Micay and madaidan argue together against Firefox. Before the Tor Project mailing list happened in August 2019, the whole anti-Firefox sentiment mysteriously used to not exist in GrapheneOS community. This is probably the first instance of Micay's resentment towards a large FOSS project.
For context, I would ideally advise to read through the "criticism... 4 year evidence" writeup, but an easier way to go through this is knowing about madaidan and his "toilet paper" (I did not call it that) blog attacking FOSS projects' security while simultaneously recommending the antithesis of privacy - Windows, MacOS, Google Chrome et al.
This is one part of how Micay started to become an isolated toxic person developing hate for FOSS projects for others not conforming to his ideas of how things should be done. This was also the first moment where he took a step towards the Google Big Tech black hole.
Slowly, however, he started to attract the "security zealots" in privacy and FOSS community. What happened here is explained by Dunbar's number, which says a human can only form relationships with 148 people. This number falls to a maximum of 30-50 if you are not particularly extroverted or prefer a smaller group. All of the "security zealots" found some comfort together, creating a loosely linked group where everyone can unite with certain talking points, regarding bashing Linux/Firefox security, preferring Big Tech obscure security products and services, and allowing to normalise the various toxic behaviours everyone individually bears, in the name of "oh IT security people are just bad at social skills". I can count these 15-20 people which allows me to be a bit more confident in what has happened.
People do not know much about this, but Micay used to fantasise replacing Linux kernel with Google's Fuchsia microkernel, a... Google project, because Linux is insecure and trashy. The issue here is that while he did work on Linux kernel patch in the past, he does not anymore, because he has started to develop resentment against any FOSS projects that are not fully conformant with his ways. Linux simply never gave him the success. Micay is apparently entitled to get the fruits, not realising individual work on Linux is largely a communistic effort. Free open source movement is by design democratic and for the community/society first.
Sometime ago, someone informed me of Micay (alias thestingestrcat) creating drama with Bromite (on which their Vanadium browser fork is based) and FlorisBoard projects. They labelled those project maintainers with very bad, false epithets, like "you will be tied to a group engaging in Kiwi Farms level abuse and tolerating neo-nazis". Well too bad, witch hunting people is what you people admittedly do and call it market research.
I should not need to elaborate on GrapheneOS' attitude towards Techlore (he has 2 videos on it) and CalyxOS (again Techlore partially covers CalyxOS).
GrapheneOS members, Micay and his friends like Wonderfall have attacked F-Droid in the name of security, only to push using Google Play Store that annihilates all privacy of people. Google Play Services gather every possible metric about your phone which includes sensor, location, IP address, telephone number, IMEI and so on every 7 minutes. Just to be fair, Apple does the same things and is far worse. This theme of evangelising Google products at the cost of bashing all other projects is a thumb rule for GrapheneOS community.
Micay finding solace among his "security zealot" friends allowed him to go unchecked and grow into a very malicious person, targeting FOSS projects, individuals, organisations and privacy communities with a lot of sockpuppet trolling, vote manipulation, dishonesty, normalising horrific social etiquette, demonising and witch hunting any and all people that do not worship GrapheneOS. It is borderline criminal and is a surprise to me how people are okay with someone like him. I have two explanations for this - either the ones okay with this themselves share some of these behaviours, or they themselves use GrapheneOS and due to sunk cost fallacy and/or fear of Micay personally targeting them, they either defend him or keep their mouths intentionally shut. An insignificant number of people accept him merely because of benevolence towards FOSS projects IMHO.


The problem is not Daniel Micay. The problem is this kind of mindset that has been able to breed and flourish in society. Today, this Micay might go. Tomorrow, another Micay will come under a different name or even this very person under an alias. Privacy community needs to stop being such selfish and individualistic. People need to stop procrastinating or avoiding vetting of these people. I understand tools and code is hard to vet, but people behind the projects can absolutely be vetted. Giving space to elements like these toxic "security zealots" in tech is not bravery or benevolence, it is stupidity and disgustingly selfish. This is precisely why rulebooks like Code Of Conduct have become increasingly popular. We need to give people and projects the boot from society that do not follow Code Of Conduct, and especially pretentious groups like GrapheneOS ( that pretend to have civil rules but do the exact opposite to everyone that disagrees with them.
Since enough people may not have understood this, I will repeat it, as I end this text file with some internet rules.
submitted by TheAnonymouseJoker to privatelife [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 20:21 AIadventure Recipe for hashbrowns

Here's a step-by-step recipe for homemade hash browns:
4 medium-sized potatoes 1 small onion (optional) 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon black pepper 2 tablespoons vegetable oil (or any cooking oil of your choice) Instructions:
Peel the potatoes and rinse them under cold water to remove any dirt. Pat them dry with a kitchen towel. If using an onion, peel and grate it using a box grater or a food processor. Set aside. Using the same grater or food processor, grate the potatoes. You can choose to have finer or coarser shreds depending on your preference. Place the grated potatoes in a clean kitchen towel or cheesecloth. Squeeze out as much moisture as possible. This step helps in achieving crispy hash browns. In a mixing bowl, combine the grated potatoes (and grated onion, if using), flour, salt, and black pepper. Mix well until all the ingredients are evenly distributed. Heat the oil in a large skillet or frying pan over medium heat. Take a handful of the potato mixture and shape it into a compact patty. Repeat this process with the remaining mixture. Carefully place the hash brown patties into the hot skillet, leaving some space between each patty. Cook the hash browns for about 4-5 minutes on each side or until golden brown and crispy. You may need to adjust the cooking time depending on the thickness of your patties. Once cooked, transfer the hash browns to a paper towel-lined plate to absorb any excess oil. Serve the hash browns hot as a delicious side dish for breakfast or brunch. They pair well with eggs, bacon, or simply on their own. Enjoy your homemade hash browns!
submitted by AIadventure to cookingcollection [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 20:16 Mortimer_Whimsiwick World Hunger Games: 17th Hunger Games: Reapings

The weeks leading up to the 17th Hunger Games were especially eventful as the Capital was still reeling from the previous year’s spectacular games. Sherpa Kapoor, with the help of his lion friends, had proven himself to be the most popular tribute in Hunger Games history since Ashley Chen (victor of the 13th Hunger Games)’s revenge plot. The Capital was kept satisfied with reruns as well as the continuing increasing sales of 16th HG merchandise. This consisted of Kapoor Pride plushies, replica gaffi sticks, and the most sought-after item: the latest in the line of Panem Champion Funko Pop. Every year, a new action figure is made for the latest victor of the Hunger Games. It was the most popular collectible in the Capital. In fact, since the Golden Victors concept was introduced, a new line of Funko Pop was released, separating the first ten victors (called the First Champions) and the Golden Victors by changing the color of the clothes and weapons to gold.
Hunger Games mania had started once more a week before the reaping cycle. Artemis Radcliffe interviewed Head Gamemaker Grimstone on her morning show Good Morning Panem, expressing relief that the Sherpa craze had died down. Grimstone responded that that kind of excitement was the nature of the Golden Victors and he hoped he would be able to replicate that level of success. However, he did admit it was up to the tributes to decide that. As usual, Artemis pushed for details only to receive tight lips from the gamemaker. She responded to herself, telling the audience she'll never learn the futility of getting spoilers from a gamemaker.
A week later, Sherpa had to put his restaurant endeavors on hold as he was called for the reaping tour. His entourage consisted of his brother Zacharie, Cassandra (his mentor), and surviving Kapoor Pride member Parth. After a depressing reaping at his home district, Cassandra had to separate from the group to take care of the first half of mentoring his tributes Mishti and Horace. So, Troy van Stomm (victor of the 5th Hunger Games) volunteered to tag along, mostly in hopes to become Sherpa’s friend. A notable incident happened during the District 8 reaping, when the younger brother of Asaad (D8 tribute of 16th games who was killed by Sherpa), Burlap, was reaped and attempted to assault Sherpa on the stage. Parth tackled him to the ground but was stopped by Sherpa before he could injure him further.
After witnessing the reaping games of District 2 sire Nikita and Andrei, Sherpa and his entourage arrived in District 6. He was given a tour by Mayor Bengtsson and District 6’s only victor Phoebe Bentley. They introduced to Sherpa a recently completed construction project, the Luxury Viking Cruise. This week-long cruise trip would sail the seas of Districts 4 and 6, even granting a tour of the Faroe Island Base. Despite being a victor for nearly a year, Sherpa was shocked by the fancy architecture and opulence. The remainder of the tour was a bit of a downer, Sherpa seeing firsthand the combined effects of poverty and the warmweed epidemic. His spirits were lifted when Phoebe enthusiastically showed him the Kento Rehabilitation Center. Both Sherpa and Troy decided to inject some of their money into the community, buying a variety of the local liquors outside of the Johnson Jazzy Juices brand. During lunch, Phoebe introduced them to her husband, local piloting legend Jackson Williams, and her “arena baby” Mirabelle. Sherpa allowed Mirabelle to pet Parth while he asked Jackson some piloting questions.
After lunch, everyone headed over to the reaping square where he was greeted by the mayor. He chatted for about ten minutes as the oil and vomit stained amber clad youths filed into the enclosure, the process taking longer as peacekeepers had to round up inebriated youths who tried to ditch the process. Sherpa made his victor’s speech more lively, bringing up his restaurant business and performing a couple tricks with Parth. Some of the youths enjoyed the show and applauded him. After his speech, Phoebe urged him to pull out the first name from the female reaping bowl. Sherpa took a deep breath and shoved his hand in the bowl. He unfolded the paper and announced eighteen year old Catilina "Cat" Verter as tribute.
Cat was a tall medium built woman with ginger curls and round glasses and was known as one of the assistant instructors at the Kento Rehabilitation Centre, so she knew District 6’s sole victor Phoebe Bentley quite well. Phoebe apparently was funding Cat's scholarship to become a licensed therapist. Phoebe put her hand over her mouth in shock when Cat’s name was called. Cat walked up to the stage, with a tightness in her chest and tears streaming down her face. She shook hands with Sherpa and said his pet lion was cute. She turned towards the cameras, forcing a smile in an attempt to convince Capital audiences she wasn’t unhappy with her situation. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis fell for the fake smile, commenting how she must be excited to represent her district. Her co-commentator Capricorn Luther rolled his eyes in annoyance and told her to just keep watching.
Sherpa walked over to the male reaping bowl, feeling slight relief the first wasn’t a drugged out zombie. He shuffled to the male reaping bowl and pulled out the name of fifteen year old Jackknife "Jack" Clutch. Cameras found Jack in the middle of the horde of inebriated youth. Jack was a short brown haired lad who was ragged looking from head to toe due to a recent warmweed binge. Despite this, he was less skinny and pale looking than his peers to the surprise of Artemis and Luther. Luther pulled some notes and revealed Jack had managed to stay sober for 10 months, recently relapsing after the Good Morning Panem interview. He read further and discovered that Jack was one of the young refinery workers in one of the hovercraft warehouses. Artemis read the remainder of the notes and found it interesting to hear he was imprisoned four months ago after getting caught trying to smuggle warmweed across the Orkney Stretch, a stretch of water fashioned as an aquatic border separating the two districts. Despite the previous soberness, he was in too much of a trance to notice being reaped and was dragged to the stage by peacekeepers. He limply shook hands with Sherpa and absentmindedly walked into Parth before finding his place to the left of the stage. Mayor Bengtsson indifferently congratulated this year’s tributes before dismissing them to their waiting rooms. Phoebe dismissed herself to the hoverjet, kissing her husband and Mirabelle goodbye. Sherpa and his entourage also left for their next stop in the reaping tour: District 4.
Cat was visited by her older brother Tank and a coworker Pedal. The Juicy Tidbits podcast disclosed that her mother had passed away two years ago and her father was passed out drunk at the Kjellberg Brewery. The group embraced and shared in the sorrowful moment. Tank and Pedal tried to cram as much advice as they could into the session, but Cat was feeling overwhelmed. She assured them she had a great mentor who would surely help her win. Cat told Tank to sell her belongings and drew a map to the location of her pocketed earnings and her will. She thanked him for always being there and becoming sober for her. She turned to Pedal and thanked him for being her best friend, regretting never asking him out. She asked Pedal to take care of her patients, attempting to make a list of important details. However, the peacekeepers arrived before she could finish and escorted her to the hoverjet.
Meanwhile, Jack was visited by Tyre, his only friend who was one of the few who managed to stay sober during the sudden uptake of drugs and alcohol at reaping week. She consoled him as he began to cry and reassured his other friends would come if they weren't also high. Jack claimed to not care about them, but instead expressed disappointment in his parents for not coming. Tyre assured him that she believed in him. Jack shrugged and said, “At least I’ll die knowing I had one friend.” Tyre responded with “If that nervous wreck Oslo could make it as far as he did, then I'm sure you can get that little bit extra and win." She kissed him on the lips before giving him a final embrace, promising a surprised Jack that she would wait for him. Jack then made her promise that if he doesn’t make it to not wait so long to find someone else. The peacekeepers arrived and brought him to the hoverjet.
When Jack and Cat got on the hovercraft, Phoebe was already waiting at the dining table. She asked Jack to hand over any contraband warmweed he may have before they got started. He initially refused, arguing that he would need them to not break down during training. Cat reminded him that his best chance at winning would be staying sober, recalling Phoebe telling her about last year’s tributes ruining their pregames chances due to them being high. She offered to help him stay calm during the following events, bringing up her training in therapy. This seemed to persuade him to hand over the warmweed he kept in his pocket. Little did they know, he was secretly concealing a teeny fraction in the sole of his shoe. The group spent the next few hours discussing strategy. As opposed to most mentors, who would explain the upcoming events before having them watch previous games, Phoebe crafted a presentation with a slide show. The slideshow touched on the topics of the pregame events, finding water sources, creating makeshift weapons and making and handling alliances. In previous years, Phoebe used pictures and videos from previous games but this year she replaced them with stop motion animation and drawings depicting the scenarios.
When the presentation was over, Phoebe asked her tributes to tell her what their strategy for training would be. Cat was the first to answer, detailing how she would use her time to learn survival skills. However, she was indecisive on what weapon to choose. Jack, on the other hand, decided he would learn to use a knife and try his hand at camouflage. Phoebe appeared satisfied with their initial answers and instructed them to mull over their indecision. She gave them the time of noon tomorrow to come to her with their final decision. Phoebe attempted to retire her tributes to their quarters, but Jack asked if he could watch her games. Phoebe was taken aback by this. She was about to refuse, but Cat expressed her desire to see it as well. Phoebe relented and turned on the 3rd Hunger Games. While watching, Jack commended the swordsmanship of Kento (the D3 tribute and Mirabelle’s biological father) before considering practicing with a sword instead. Cat repeated the praise while condemning Carson (Phoebe’s district partner)’s brutality, even going as far as comparing him to one of the unruly patients in the mental asylum ward at the Kento Rehabilitation Centre. She turned to hear Phoebe’s thoughts, but saw her tearfully struggling to refrain herself from grabbing a bottle of whiskey. Cat rushed to her and put the bottle down, embracing her as she cried. She ordered Jack to turn off the games, which he did after seeing the climactic battle between her and Carson. Phoebe eventually calmed down and ordered her tributes to bed for the night. Night cameras showed that Cat did some light reading on a book about lizards and amphibians she found before sleeping. Meanwhile, Jack mulled over whether or not he should consume his contraband. He ultimately decided to ask the peacekeeper outside his door to bring him a strong tasting but nonalcoholic drink. He learned from him that all of the drinks in the District 6 apartment were nonalcoholic, leading him to accept a lemon vodka.
The next morning, the tributes woke up to a light breakfast and were asked to clean up quickly and select clothes provided in their wardrobes. This became a tradition Phoebe picked up for her tributes after Jase Toliver tried it for the District 8 tributes of the 2nd Quinquennial Quell (15th Hunger Games). The tradition became handy that year as the Capital was going through a heat wave. Due to being farther north and experiencing the harshest winters of Panem, District 6 wasn’t used to the warmer climate. This was brought up when Jack opened one of the windows, which blew a humid draft in. Phoebe instructed them to dress for the heat, Cat choosing a V neck tank top with cutoff denim shorts while Jack wore a henley shirt with board shorts.
The tributes were greeted by a respectable sized crowd despite being on the lower end of the visitation numbers. District 6 usually ended up with the second or third lowest turnout. depending on the sobriety of their tributes with this year having the fifth lowest turnout. Many of the crowd members flocked to Phoebe, either calling her by name or as “The Philosopher”. Many asked how Mirabelle was doing, knowing she turned thirteen not long ago. Phoebe graciously answered their questions, but urged them to meet her tributes. Jack took surprisingly well to the crowd, shaking hands with people his age and charming an elderly woman with flattery. She pinched his cheeks, telling him how adorable he was and promising to sponsor him if he keeps it up. Cat was nervous at first, but the people skills she learned from her job quickly took over. She gave pleasantries and charmed the crowds with her manners. She even managed to convince a few Captalites to open up about their personal lives so she could get them to relate to her. Jack walked over to her while she was advising a certain young man to tell his crush how he felt. Jack put his arm around her shoulder and assured them she could be everyone’s shrink if she could. Cat piggybacked off this, declaring that they would be missing out if they didn’t sponsor them. When Phoebe finally managed to escape the paparazzi, she ushered her tributes into the limousine. Phoebe thanked them for behaving and making a good impression. Cat commended Jack’s people skills, wondering where they were before. Jack simply stated he realized the gravity of the situation while he was dressing and decided to do his best to make it home to his friend Tyre.
When the group arrived at the apartment, they were greeted by this year’s stylist Sasha Grasseed. Phoebe became annoyed upon recognizing her. It was rumored that Sasha had only achieved her position by sleeping with pregame event organizer Dermont Toolly. Cat and Jack attempted to introduce themselves, but Sasha cut them off. She claimed to be on a tight schedule and barked at them to stand in place for their measurements. She then ordered her assistant Morrana Cloudveil to do the measurements. Phoebe questioned if having an assistant was allowed, but Sasha brushed this off claiming it made things easier. Phoebe mumbled to herself, “Yeah because everything comes easy for you.” The Juicy Tidbits podcast had a five-minute discussion over this particular comment, wondering if there was unspoken beef between the two. Phoebe asked to see some of the design, but Sasha said she already decided on a mechanic outfit covered in nails. Phoebe tried to speak again but was rudely interrupted. An exasperated Sasha growled that her design was final, and she was going to leave to get started and to "find an actual drink".
By the time she left, Morrana apologized for Sasha's behavior and remarked that she tried to tell her she was thinking of the nuts, bolts and nails used for construction. Phoebe said that it was fine and suggested to her tributes to try and play into the peculiar nature of the designs. Jack asked what her problem was, calling her a “high strung bitch queen”. Cat suggested Sasha thought the position was above her talents and only accepted to hopefully win the title of Blanco Fashion Magazine’s Best Dressed. Phoebe considered the theory plausible and suggested they throw Sasha under the bus in interviews if the parade doesn’t work out. Morrana agreed, explaining that the only way to bring down a stylist is if they screw up and enough people talk about it. Cat and Jack promised to do so. Phoebe decided to turn on replays of the reapings and advised her tributes to study their opponents.
Immediately after leaving District 6, Sherpa and his entourage arrived in District 4. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis and Luther revealed that District 4 was also going through a heat wave, which forced the refrigeration system to work overtime to protect the latest catch and produce. Three freezer boxes, two containing salmon and one squid, had to be emptied and their contents disposed of when the insulation failed. As Mayor Phillip gave Sherpa a tour, people would stop and stare at Parth as he trailed along. Little kids ran up and asked to pet him, to which Sherpa happily obliged. Sherpa showed much interest in District 4’s naval and fishing industry, especially the latter. Much to Sherpa's dismay, especially after seeing mass poverty across the other districts, he complained about some of the fish being thrown away despite still being good to eat. He claimed that some citizens across Panem would be willing to eat it, buying some various fillets on the spot. He did a cooking demonstration for Mayor Phillip, creating sushi with salmon and serving it as their lunch.
On their way to the reaping square, they stopped to pick up District 4’s victor Gill Henderson at the Slippery Shell, the most popular pub in District 4 where Dolph Masterson (ally to Bacchus Johnson of the 9th Hunger Games) dreamed of the many cocktails now sold under the Johnson’s Jazzy Juices brand. When they arrived at the reaping square, the blue clad potential tributes were already lined up and waiting. Sherpa noticed that the majority looked unfazed due to District 4 generally performing quite well, many holding onto the hope of their next victor coming very soon. So much so that the district had the honour of having the Capital’s third fan group, the Buccaneers, always ready to support them.
Sherpa gave a pre-translated speech that he read very well due to improvements in his English. He asked the women if they had any volunteers. Receiving no reply, he stepped towards the female reaping bowl. He pulled out the name of fourteen year old Pearl Riverstone. Cameras zoomed in on a short tanned girl with dirty blonde pigtails wearing a sky blue skirt and white shirt. Pearl loudly cried over her name being called and begged anyone to volunteer for her. As she sombered forward, protests were heard across the crowd. Luther pulled up a note card and revealed that Pearl's parents ran one of the many pubs across District 4. Her family’s pub The Brine was one of the more popular amongst working class people, attendance sometimes rivalling the Slippery Shell. Pearl would normally be found waiting tables at The Brine or playing with her friends on the riverwalk. Sherpa felt sorry for the girl and forgoed the hand shaking in place of letting her hug Parth. Pearl thanked Sherpa and proceeded to take her place to the right of the stage.
Sherpa took a deep breath and reiterated the volunteer question to the men. He again received no reply and went towards the male reaping bowl. He pulled a name from the bottom and pulled it out, nearly dropping it when a gust of wind blew through. He read the name of eighteen year old Mortimer Beckett. Many members in the enclosures and outside audiences began whispering amongst themselves. Gill Henderson appeared surprised, clueing Capital viewers that he was familiar with him. In the commentator’s booth, Artemis urged the cameras to find this person, wondering what made him so known. Cameras circled around the area for a moment until spotting a muscled man with sunkissed brown wavy hair and hazel green eyes. The most interesting thing about him was the shackles on his hands and being accompanied by two peacekeepers.
Mortimer cursed to himself upon hearing his name and grumbled to his guards to get it over with. While he shuffled to the stage, Luther pulled some notes together. He revealed to the audience that Mortimer was a shiphand who worked on the same dock Gill Henderson manages. The chains were as a precaution as two weeks ago, Mortimer was caught smuggling a small supply of warmweed and District 6 professor Tobias Stephens into District 4’s waters. Tobias was seeking asylum in District 4 and was given a fake ID, but was caught hours after landing. He was executed in District 4’s town square. Artemis thought he looked handsome and wanted to see the muscles underneath his thin white undershirt. She was confused by the black eyeliner encompassing his right eye, wondering if he tried to paint a tattoo there. She also swore she could see something blue etched into his skin, wondering if he had a back tattoo. Mortimer didn’t want to shake Sherpa’s hand, but was intimidated by Parth’s cold black eyes and relented. Mayor Phillip congratulated this year’s tributes before dismissing them to the waiting rooms in the Town Centre.
Pearl was visited by both parents and her older sister Henrietta. Pearl couldn’t stop crying, her parents trying her best to calm her down. It was eventually Henrietta that temporarily ceased her hysterics. She asked her little sister to listen to her mentor and try her best. She implied she could remind Gill of the district partner he lost in his games and get extra attention. Pearl asked, “What about my partner? He could protect me.” Henrietta’s face furrowed into a frown. She insisted she not trust him, claiming he would only look out for himself like he always did. Pearl lamented that she couldn’t possibly win and was scared. Her mother assured her that a fourteen year old girl from District 7 won before, reminding her of Vixen Furtherson (victor of the 14th Hunger Games). Pearl asked if they thought she could have the chance to meet her, to which the parents thought she would. The four had a final embrace before peacekeepers arrived. Pearl resumed her hysterics the second the first peacekeeper grabbed her and she cried as she was dragged to the Speedy Submarine.
Meanwhile, Mortimer was initially all alone in his room. He was pacing back and forth, a couple tears falling from his eyes. Suddenly, the door opened and his girlfriend Meridia Vilewater entered. She embraced him and apologised for not coming sooner. Mortimer said it was alright, simply glad someone showed up. Meridia said, “I’m sorry your father couldn’t make it. I promise to look after him.” Mortimer thanked her and expressed how grateful he was for her being there when the entire town wasn’t. He joked how her father didn’t have to worry about him poking around anymore, but Meridia began to tear up upon hearing this. He apologised and assured her he would try his best to win and not only bring honour to the district, but possibly help his father. He then snarkily said, “Who knows? Maybe your dad will accept me?” Meridia betted he would and gave him a final embrace, knowing their time was short. Mortimer whispered to her the location of his secret stash of “medicine” before being dragged out of the room and to the Speedy Submarine.
Pearl and Mortimer found themselves in the lounge area. Pearl nervously sat on the couch and waited for their mentor to show. Mortimer gave her a stare before silently resigning himself to the bar. He was downing a Woeful Whiskful cocktail from Johnson’s Jazzy Juices when their mentor Gill Henderson entered the room. He gave a momentary glance to Mortimer before introducing himself to Pearl. Pearl claimed to know him from his shanty performance during the Saint Patrick’s Day celebration at The Brine. Gill appreciated the sentiment before diverting the conversation. He point-blankedly asked what skills she had. She shrugged and simply stated she was a waitress. Gill pondered over this and asked how many orders she handled on average. Pearl answered she would normally keep track of the orders of 4-5 tables simultaneously, even recalling a day she juggled eight tables at once. Gill explained she was an effective communicator and a multitasker, two skills that could prove crucial to her survival. He caught her nervously glancing at the despondent Mortimer sitting on the barstool. Gill walked over to him and greeted him. Pearl asked if he knew him, to which Gill confirmed. Mortimer dejectedly stated that everyone knew him and that he was infamous. Gill argued that he didn’t help himself with the image he projected and asked what his father would think. Mortimer snapped that he didn’t know anything and to drop it. The tone in his voice scared Pearl, but Mortimer was kind enough to apologise to her for his outburst.
Gill took this opportunity to give them the routine rundown of the events to come. He recommended they devise ways to get the Capital to like them, reminding them of the importance of sponsors. Gill looked down at Pearl and said she was adorable and could use that. Pearl decided to better improve her look to play into the cute persona. Gill turned to Mortimer, who was still sipping from his glass but paying close attention. Gill said that his criminal record and standoffish attitude wouldn’t help matters, suggesting he lighten up. He also explained that he knew some of his stories that could be used as sob stories for the audience. Mortimer claimed those to be private. He grumbled that he didn’t need any help before resigning himself to the training room. Gill hollered back to at least consider using his strength as an asset. Pearl asked what his deal was, claiming to have only heard the story of him smuggling “the professor from 6’ in. Gill sighed and asked her to sit down. He decided to disclose that Mortimer’s mother abandoned him and his disabled father when he was six, leaving him to become man of the house. He had some traumatic experiences with a few of District 4’s bad apples and had trust issues, enough to turn away those who genuinely wanted to help, including Alexander Riverstone. Pearl, hearing her father’s name dropped, wanted to know more, but Gill decided it was a story for another time. He instead called the dinner cart in and turned on the TV. He turned on the 13th and 14th Hunger Games, both erecting Ashley Chen and Vixen Furtherson, the youngest victors in history. Gill asked Pearl to take notes on their performances in hopes of settling on a strategy.
While she took notes, Gill visited the training room and approached Mortimer who was lifting weights. Gill notified him of the dinner cart and pleaded with him to join them. Mortimer relented and dropped his weight. Before they entered the lounge area, Gill put a hand on Mortimer’s shoulder and told him there was no shame in wanting to talk as he didn’t want him to die in the arena with things remaining unsaid. Mortimer hesitated before wordlessly filling his plate. He brought his plate to the couch and began watching the finale of the 14th games with Pearl. When the games ended, Pearl got up to make her plate while Mortimer turned on Gill’s games and made notes of his own. Pearl sat down to watch and chuckled at the iconic “Bye Felicia” tagline but averted her eyes when Gill’s district partner Angel was killed. When the finale showdown between Gill and Furler (D12 male tribute) came up, Mortimer paid close attention. Pearl asked if he was studying his trident fighting style to which he confirmed, stating his desire to practise the trident. After dinner, Gill broke into song and began improvising a sea shanty. Pearl began to dance to the melody while Mortimer nodded his head and slipped a smile in. Gill sent his tributes to bed and spent an extra few minutes at the bar, drinking a Huma Hurricane.
The next morning, the Speedy Submarine arrived at the Darius Dock on the Capital docks. Gill ordered his tributes to brush their hair and teeth as well as put on nice clothes. He even loaned his aftershave to Mortimer when there wasn’t any found in his room. Gill inspected them head to toe and reminded them to make an impression, telling Pearl to stay adorable and Mortimer to lighten up. The hatch opened and the three were bombarded with the cheers of adoring Buccaneers (avid fans of District 4). While most of the attendees swarmed around this year’s tributes, there was a small zealous group who called for the Brotherly Sailor, asking him to sing. Gill refrained from doing so, knowing it would take away attention from his mentees. Pearl played into her cuteness, flashing big smiles and waving her hands. She took pictures with many of the young girls, some even asking to touch her pigtails. One blushing boy walked up with a golden tiara and asked to put it on her head. She nodded and bowed, letting him place the tiara on her head. She thanked her “prince charming”, telling him she will go on a date with him if she wins.
Meanwhile, Mortimer didn’t say much but received much attention regardless. He took pictures with many of the teens in the crowds, one even giving him a prop trident to pose with. He also allowed the girls to squeeze his biceps and fawn over his wavy hair. Mortimer was beginning to feel annoyed and tried to find an excuse to step away. It came to a head when one eager girl asked if he had a girlfriend. He wretched himself away from the girls’ grasp, but another girl still had a hold of his shirt. The shirt tore to shreds in her hands, exposing the massive back tattoo on his back. Cameras got a close look at the illustration of the fabled Kraken inked onto the majority of his back, some of its tentacles stretching up his neck and around his chest. This unexpected turn of events becomes its own fiasco with more girls putting their hands all over his back. Pearl pushed some of the girls away and took pictures with the Kraken. Gill noticed this and quickly ushered his tributes to the limousine.
The three arrived at their apartment to see their stylist Minerva Panson waiting for them. Minerva was a tattoo artist who applied for the position of Hunger Games stylist to expand her business. This was Minerva’s second year as a stylist, having been District 11’s stylist the previous year. She greeted Gill and his tributes, excited to talk parade costumes with them. She knelt down and told Pearl how adorable she was, pinching her cheeks. She stood up and was slightly put off by Mortimer, who still felt humiliated by what happened at the parade. Minerva said she loved his tattoo, but it needed some polishing. Mortimer grunted a thanks and went into his room to find a shirt. Pearl was excited to see what outfit she had planned, begging to see her sketchbook. Minerva flipped through the pages with Gill, pointing out her favourites. Gill asked about her most recent sketch of an underwater king and mermaid costume. Minerva explained that she was inspired after a recent tattoo she gave a Buccaneer and the idea was reinforced by Mortimer’s Kraken tattoo. Pearl liked her mermaid outfit and asked if she could have her hair wet.
Mortimer came back in to see their final decision. Minerva said he would have to showcase his tattoo some more to go with her costume idea, revealing that it went viral on the Capital Internet. Mortimer was against it at first, but relented when Minerva offered to polish it and add a new one of his choosing at the ends of the tentacles on his chest. Interested, he agreed. She wondered aloud about the eyeliner around his right eye, rubbing her thumb on it. She inspected the residue and revealed to the room’s occupants it was fake. Mortimer sighed and admitted it was, but insisted he only applied it to spite those who dislike him and that he would never etch an actual tattoo on his face. While Minerva worked, Pearl complimented Mortimer’s tattoo, remarking how if she won, she would get a tattoo of her own. Mortimer chuckled, saying, “Just remember, real tattoos are permanent.”
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2023.05.27 19:43 Icy_Trifle_5891 Smoking bone in pork butt

I’ve been reading through trying to figure out the best thing for smoking pork butt bone in but not too sure what to do. I’m about to go buy a pork butt, however looking for a larger one since it’s going to be a little get together. I’m just so lost on what to do. Last time I made it I put it in an aluminum pan and it just wouldn’t shred, and it honestly took longer than normal. So I’m just lost all together on what to do. I am thinking about going bare on the grate and then wrap it in butcher paper. But not even sure where to start with that since I’ve never done that before.
submitted by Icy_Trifle_5891 to Smokingmeat [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 17:56 OkRecommendation2458 Help! Why are my beds so so sad? My plants are stuggling

Help! Why are my beds so so sad? My plants are stuggling
Set these beds up first week of May zone 7b in MD. I sheet mulched with cardboard then added the following mediums that I had on hand: 2 inches of shredded brown paper bags 8 cu ft composted elephant manure 1 cu ft vermiculite 2 cu ft stagreen garden soil 2 cu ft miracle grow potting soil with compost (for peat content)
I sent soil samples to the lab and I’m waiting for the results. But can y’all tell me if this is plant disease, pests or nutrients issues? I after reading the Mel’s book he recommends more compost if other ingredients aren’t available so that what i did. Doesn’t seem to be working though.
submitted by OkRecommendation2458 to SquareFootGardening [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 16:07 juju4beat Michi’s shredding corner

Michi’s shredding corner
She’s begun using this corner of the house to hide in and shred paper probably trying to nest or just make a mess because god knows she loves doing that
submitted by juju4beat to parrots [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 15:59 Professional_Cup_264 architectural optimization

hi, What courses i should take to understand these papers and similar ones that talk about architectural design optimization with mathematical optimization and different algorithyms
i wonder also as an architect should i focus at generating concepts and make layout configuration in other simpler ways and let these for prgrammers that can develop softwares translating these methods or i should consider mathematical optimization in architecture too? thanks
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2023.05.27 15:54 Professional_Cup_264 mathematical optimization

What courses i should take to understand these papers and similar ones that talk about architectural design optimization with mathematical optimization and different algorithms,Choudhary,Papalambros-EO-ArchLayout.pdf
submitted by Professional_Cup_264 to mathematics [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 15:29 s810 Old Austin Tales: Honey Bee Marshall and the Mystery Grave at Smith Creek - 1900s

Today thanks to a tip from Faraday_Rage, I bring you a ghost story from West Lake Hills, although saying that might be a bit misleading because West Lake Hills is a mid-20th century invention and the events of this story happen mostly before that. There used to be a village called Eanes in that general area full of farmers, ranchers, and cedar choppers before it was subdivided into one of the nicer suburbs.
There was only one bridge for vehicle traffic (besides the train bridge) from Downtown into South Austin before the 1940s. Because of this, the western part of Travis County was separated from the growth of Austin and the eastern part of the county, and remained sort of a wild frontier well after the surrounding lands were settled.
Among the early settlers in that area were two brothers named Alexander and Robert Eanes. There is a historical marker at the intersection of Red Bud Trail and Loop 360 which says the following:
Alexander Eanes (1806-1888) moved to Texas from Mississippi in 1845 and acquired this ranch by 1857. In 1873 he sold the property to his brother, Robert Eanes (1805-1895), who had moved to the area following the Civil War. A log cabin built on the Eanes ranch was the first Eanes school, and the community also assumed the Eanes name. Robert Eanes sold the ranch to his son-in-law, Hudson Boatner Marshall (1862-1951) in 1883. Marshall dismantled the ranch house and moved it to a site adjacent to the nearby creek.
So there was a man named H.B. Marshall who lived on the former Eanes Ranch with his wife Viola (Robert Eanes's daughter) and family.
H.B. Marshall was a Civil War orphan. His mom died shortly after childbirth and his dad died as part of Hood's Brigade. He spent his early life in Austin-area orphanages until he graduated high school at the age of 19. That was when the doctors of the era diagnosed him with "consumption", otherwise known as Tuberculosis today. There was no cure in the 19th century. Afflicted people were told to go live in the country and get some fresh air, and that's exactly what he did.
Lucky for him, HB's dad well fairly well off when he died and left him an inheritance. After he left the orphanage he used this money to buy the ranch from the Eanes family, met and married Viola Eanes, and started a family. Legends say a Mexican folk healer convinced him eating goat meat and drinking goat's milk was an excellent remedy for consumption, and so he raised goats.
The book Eanes Portrait of a Community has this photo of H.B. and Viola and their dog, along a brief biographical bit:
H.B. and Viola Marshall sold honey and butter and raised goats. At one time H.B. was president of the American Goat Association and traveled to Chicago to attend that organization's national convention. There he met and talked with Alexander Graham Bell, Thomas Edison and Henry Ford. In its early days the Ford Motor Company used mohair from goats to make a soft, long-lasting fabric which was used to upholster the seats in its "tin lizzies". H.B. Marshall was one of the company's first mohair suppliers. Later, after Bee Cave Road became a better, more reliable road, Marshall, who was a skilled printer sometimes worked in Austin at that trade.
So HB Marshall and his family were very good at raising goats.
The Marshall Family were also beekeepers. HB liked to be called "Honey Bee" Marshall later in life. He lived the rest of his life on that ranch and died in the 1950s.
Now that you have that little bit of backstory, on with today's tale. The following article appeared on page 21 the Austin American-Statesman on May 16, 1966:
Old Grave Beside Creek
The mystery of who is buried a shallow grave beside Smith Creek, seven miles southwest of Austin, may never be solved.
With it goes a tale of a robbery and killing said to have occurred more than 60 years ago on the Bee Cave Road.
But at least one story told by a man who died last year sticks in the minds of some residents of the hill country behind Zilker Park.
The man was long-time stock man and World War I veteran John Marshall, who lived out his life on the Eanes-Marshall Ranch seven miles southwest of Austin. His story told him as a child by his father, early Travis County settler and school teacher Hudson Boatner (Honey Bee) Marshall goes something like this:
In the late 19th century, a man from Bee Caves came to Austin with a wagon load of cotton. After selling it, he was returning home when his hired hand killed him and took the money. The slain man was not found for several days, and when he was, he was buried on the spot, several hundred feel off the road.
This is the way Cecil Johnson, of 1500 West Bee Caves remembers the story. He heard it in 1956 when he and his brother-in-law, Elmo Freitag, dug into the grave and found a skeleton. Freitag and Johnson went from where they live to buy a dog killed by a car on the Marshall ranch, Johnson said. "When we found the bones, we were pretty scared," Freitag said. "We went up to the ranch house to tell John Marshall about them." "That's when John told us the story," Johnson recalls. "He said we should cover the bones back up and let the old man rest."
The story was brought to the attention of the American- Statesman by Bruce Marshall of Houston, a nephew of John Marshall and an heir to 10 acres of the old ranch land. Others who lived along Bee Caves Road, or who knew John Marshall, recall hearing him tell the story, but no one contacted so far remembers hearing the story from anyone else.
Sheriff T. O. Lang said he has no records dating back that far, Marshall was born around 1887, and Johnson said the killing and robbery occurred "before John's time."
A check into the archives in the Austin Library's Austin and Travis County Collection reveals a similar crime which occurred in 1871. On Feb. 7 of that year, according to Frank Brown's Annals of Travis County, "an old citizen" named Charles Barnes, who "lived seven miles north of Austin," was killed and robbed after he had come to town and sold a wagon load of hay. He was shot and killed "probably for his money," and his body was found 30 yards from the road, three-fourths of a mile from his dwelling. A $1,000 reward was offered for the criminal, but he was never captured.
This "official" report is quite similar to the story told by John Marshall, but the directions from Austin do not coincide.
There are descendants or a family named Cotton who live in Bee Caves, according to Miss Jessie Roy, former teacher who lives on the Rob Roy Ranch on the Bee Caves Road two miles beyond the Marshall ranch. But she said she never heard of any of them being robbed or killed. Her family moved here in the 1890s.
Conceivably, with the tale handed down by word of mouth for three generations, the name Cotton, and the product "cotton" could have gotten confused. And the Brown report, probably taken from a newspaper account, could have been mistaken about the direction (north or west) from Austin where the crime was committed.
But if the wagon load was cotton instead of hay, the crime would have occurred most likely in October, according to Austin rancher and historian Carl Widen. Widen said in the old days Austin, it usually came from the south and west, from Dripping Springs and Bee Caves, in October, "in time for the circus." "The whole family would come to town with the load of cotton usually one or two bales to a wagon and after it was sold the women bought cloth for dresses and the kids went to see the circus. Then they got back home late that night.
Another hill resident, Charles Roberts, 80, who lives on a creek near the Rob Roy ranch, said he remembered people hauling cotton in trains of three or four wagons pulled by oxen, rather than by horses or mules. And Austin resident Charles Dellana said it used to take at least four mules to pull a wagon load of corn out of the bottoms or "The Narrows" between Bee Caves Road and the Colorado River. He opined that the murder and robbery must have occurred "earlier than 1903."
Besides the Cotton family out Bee Caves way, other family names familiar to those still living are Theodore Bose, Joe Beck, the Freitags, the Teagues, the Simpsons and the Moores. But who is buried beside Smith Creek on the Marshall ranch, how he died, and when he was buried, no one seems to remember.
Well this old story was apparently told far and wide. There was another article on that same day (May 16, 1966) in The Statesman: (h/t/ jbjjbjbb)
Ghost Hunters Have a Go at Ghosting
San Antonians Learn of Murder and Such Things on Austin Ranch
Ghosts, anyone? A strange tale of murder and theft was spottily told Saturday night by a "spirit" who was supposedly in communication with a group of ghost- hunters seven miles southwest of Austin. The ghost hunters, five people from San Antonio, gath ered on the old Marshall Ranch in West Lake Hills with two news reporters. They apparently believed they were communicating with a ghost named Tom Burns.
"Margaret, Margaret, Margaret," the ghost kept repeating through the automatic-writing technique of Mrs. Joan McKee, wife of Don McKee. McKee is manager of the Builders Exchange of Texas, in San Antonio. He and his wife say they are "student" parapsychologists. Spelling out the name of Margaret Owens, Tom Burns said, "She is dead now. She is my love."
The names of Margaret Owens and Tom Burns were interpreted by the McKees from an almost indecipherable scrawl which Mrs. McKee transmitted to sheet after sheet of paper with a pencil, while her husband held her elbow. They were seated at a table in the single upper room of the old Marshall ranch house. With them were this reporter, ranch owner and Houston Post business writer Bruce Marshall, and San Antonio residents Mr. and Mrs. Frank Gibson, Mr. and Mrs. John Mac-Donald, and Mrs. Mary K. Cook. The only light in the room came from a lantern.
"Burns" said Margaret "Owens" was buried on a mountain top east of the ranch, and had been killed in or near some water. Burns also said he had been killed by three men on a road near the ranch as he was hauling a wagon load of hay. Placing the date at 1904, possibly on a Monday, he said he was shot as he got down off the wagon to move a rock that was in the way.
Although at least two other spirits were supposedly contacted beyond the pale, that of Burns appeared to be the most communicative and the most interesting. It was either Burns, or a ghost named Nathan Anderson who spoke of a John Anderson who came "often" to the ranch to drink "rum from South America" with Robert Eanes.
Eanes, according to Marshall, was the first man in the family to own the ranch property. He died in the 19th century and is buried in a family plot on a hill near the ranch house. Marshall said later there had been a man named John Anderson who was a friend of the Eanes family. Marshall and this reporter have established, from local folklore and from written records, that a man, possibly named Charles Barnes, was killed seven miles from Austin around 1871, after selling a load of ether cotton or hay in town.
There is a grave of an unknown man beside Smith Creek on the Marshal ranch, not far off the Bee Caves Road, which is seven miles from Austin. Neither Marshall nor this reporter have verified that the grave on Smith Creek is the one in which the robbery victim was buried, but the coincidences of the known facts leaves room for speculation that it may be the one.
Burns said he had worked for a man named Cotton Roberts, and that Roberts had worked for a man possibly named Mitchell Treadwell. The name of Treadwell first came to the attention of the group when MacDonald, a former announcer for KONO-TV, fell into a trance through what was called auto-hypnosis. He said he got the name from a ghost present in the room, and that he also received "an impression" of the dates 1890 to 1901. Marshall later disclosed that the old ranch house had been built sometime between 1890 and 1905.
The name "Mitchell" was written on the paper when one of the persons asked aloud, "Does the name Treadwell mean anything to you?" Burns also spoke of his mother, naming her variously Mary Markham, Marstur, Masters and Markem, who he said had been sick in a barn and subsequently died.
Mention was made of a bearded man who wore a big hat and was deaf in one ear, of a box buried beneath a barn, and of wild mohair goats. Marshall said the last man to live on the ranch, his late uncle John Marshall, found a hole on the ranch about 30 years ago where a box apparently had been buried. This was when Miriam A. Ferguson was governor of Texas, he said.
He also said a bearded deaf man had once been a ranch hand there and that John Marshall's father, H. B. Marshall, had raised Angora goats on the ranch. Burns said Roberts had buried the box, and he (Burns) had dug it up. "Money means death," came the scrawled message on the paper.
Two of the most dramatic events of the evening occurred when the McKees tried to communicate with a ghost named "Robert" Both of them believed the ghost to be that of Robert Eanes, whom they described as having a very powerful, domineering personality. Mrs. McKee broke down and could write no more after transcribing the words, "My time is up now. Many have come but nobody will listen." Later McKee tried to communicate, and apparently went into a trance after receiving the word "yes" to the question of whether "Robert" had been born in July.
Just before McKee went into a trance, Marshall and this reporter were curious to notice that a strong wind the only one noticed during the entire night rattled the eaves of the house for about a minute.
The time was shortly after midnight Mrs. Cook, who writes radio and TV commercials, took down the following from McKee's barely audible words: "I have many children. I am as Abraham I shan't stay around where my people don't want me. It is dark. Darkness is in the land. We shall bring light."
Further efforts to communicate with "Robert" failed. After this incident, the "ghosts" seemed to leave the parapsychologists and their fellow delvers into ESP (extra-sensory perception).
A long vigil at the family cemetery until almost dawn proved fruitless. Gibson, sales manager for Pratt and Lambert varnish makers, whose supposedly "haunted" house in San Antonio was the subject of a Houston Post story several months ago, conceded with high good humor that he had seen no ghosts Saturday night "But Robert was around," he affirmed confidently.
Marshall and this reporter scratched their heads, totaling up the number of "unexplainable coincidences" which made the night at least a little provocative if not downright exciting. It would take a patient historian to check the names listed. As for the "ghosts" well, who knows?
H.B. Marshall had a son named John and he in turn had a son named Bruce. Bruce Marshall was an artist who spent most of his time in Houston but moved back to the family ranch in 1974. Marshall recounted the story of the 1966 ghost hunt in this 1983 article:
THE SEARCH FOR ghosts is not uncommon with visitors to the Marshall Ranch off Loop 360 South. It is the home of artist Bruce Marshall and his family and nine ghosts, those of seven people and two horses.
Marshall studio and gallery is a restored, pre-Civil War ancestral home located next to the family residence. Parapsychologists visited the building in 1966 and declared it to be haunted by a man who was attacked, shot and killed near the original entrance of the ranch. The ghost of the dead man, whose unmarked grave is still on the ranch, reportedly told the ghosts hunters about his fate. The ghost also admitted that he had committed murder, killing a woman named Margaret by drowning her.
There are two creeks near the ranchhouse that are the source of several other ghost stories.
"SUPPOSEDLY ONE GHOST walks the creek towards Eanes (Elementary) school calling for someone," said Marshall. "There were some kids camping near the creek about six months ago, they heard dogs barking and the noise of a wagon drawn by horses. The wagon has no driver and follows an old road which used to connect to Bee Cave Road."
Marshall said his family tries to play down the ghosts tales surrounding his homestead. "If we really become convinced that we're haunted, we really lose our enjoyment of the place. People seeking ghosts out here are very unwelcome," he said. "If there are such things, they don't bother me. They like me. They probably feel that if I go, the house goes, the property changes, and they're evicted.
In 1999 Marshall sold the house and the ranch to The Eanes Historical Society, who moved it next to the current location of Eanes Elementary School, where it has become the home of the EHS and serves as a small museum today.
So who is in the mystery grave at Smith Creek? I found one lead.
Back in February of 1916 a 20-year-old man named Albert Cook had an unfortunate accident and was killed. The Statesman reported it like so:
While setting a wolf trap on the Marshall goat ranch, eight miles from Austin, Alfred Lee Cook, 20 years old, accidentally shot and killed himself at 8:30 Friday morning, a charge of buck-shot from the left barrel of a double-barrelled shotgun entering his abdomen.
Cook was a laborer on the Marshall ranch, near Summitt. Early Friday morning he attempted to set a steel trap for wolves. He was carrying a shotgun and was accompanied by two small boys.
Setting his shotgun, both barrels of which were loaded, against a bush, he advanced to the trap. The gun fell across his path and he shoved it aside. As he did so, in some way the left barrel of the gun was discharged, the entire charge taking effect in his abdomen at short range and badly lacerating his body. Death was almost Instantaneous.
Justice of the Peace George W. Mendell, Deputy Sheriff Jim McCoy and Deputy Constable Matt Turner went to Summitt this morning for the Inquest. Justlce Mendell rendered a verdict of accidental shooting. The name of one surviving relative was reported to the Justice of the ponce, being Mrs. Rebecca Ann Brown, mother of the young man
Is this the person in the grave? I can't say for sure without DNA testing, but poor Mr. Cook might be the best candidate.
Time is short and space is long today so I'll leave it there. The Eanes-Marshall house today is called the Eanes History Center, and sits next to Eanes Elementary School at 4101 Bee Caves Rd. Bonus Items to follow:
Bonus Pic #1 - Photograph of Bruce Marshall standing next to the graves of his ancestors in Eanes-Marshall Cemetery - unknown date (mid 1970s?)
Bonus Pic #2 - "Photograph of Bruce Marshall and Dorothy Depwe in the Eanes-Marshall Cemetary looking down at a tombstone." - unknown date (mid 1970s?)
Bonus Video #1 - Eanes History: HB Marshall (from Eanes History Center)
Bonus Video #2 - Eanes History: HB Marshall Ranch House Tour (from Eanes History Center)
Bonus Article #1 - Masons BBQ meet at The Marshall Ranch - November 17, 1919
Bonus Article #2 - "Better watch out! Spirits on the prowl!" - May 14, 1966
Bonus book excerpt? - Notes from an interview with Earl Short (a reformed bootlegger), in which he mentions he saw H.B. and John Marshall setting up a soda stand one Election Day after he bribed some illiterate people for their votes.
submitted by s810 to Austin [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 10:20 Avanti_Phrase209 How To Buy Waste Shredding Machines At Best price in India?

The shredders are helpful tools for reducing the volume of bulky garbage such reams of paper, paper products, bumpers, tyres, refrigerators, and for shredding various materials including scrap iron, aluminium, copper, and plastic as well as municipal solid waste and industrial waste, contact to buy Shredding Machine Manufacturers in India.
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2023.05.27 05:08 Curlycue1412 First time writing in a long time

The story is fairly long, as a warning.
Summary: in the first version a god comes down to earth and saves the animals. An evil black cat doesn’t approve and tries to kill the god. The cats smile becomes the moon
In the second version, a fake god forces animals to do its bidding. The cat realizes this and tries to fight the fake god but dies in the process. The cats smile becomes the moon.
I haven’t written anything for a good few years now, but I’m off my meds and got into a hyper fixation of it.
Anyways, I wrote two versions of the same story. It’s supposed to come off as lore of sorts. Like, a legend that explains a bit of how things in the world happen. In this case it’s the story of how the moon came to be and animals working.
It’s a bit long—both versions together fall just short of 10 pages. I also did absolutely no planning and it all just sort of came to mind as I typed it up. To be honest I’m mostly looking for support and maybe some light critique. I’m by no means a serious writer but this was a good way to de-stress after the research paper I just turned in for class (I’m a history major). I also wrote a random scene in three different perspectives that reference this story but I’m not sure if I would really want to share those since they’re pretty basic.
Here is the “official” version of the story:
There once was a god who came down to the land. The god had heard rumors that the animals living on the land were overwhelmed with feelings of anguish and sorrow. The rumors appeared to be true. This saddened the god, who wanted everyone to experience the feelings of joy. The god then built a shrine and asked all of the animals to visit and explain why they are so sad.
The first animal to appear was a three-legged dog. The dog told the god, “I am sad because I only have three legs. I cannot run through the grass with my friends!” The god nodded in understanding to the dog's struggles.
“I understand. I will return your leg to you!” With a wave of the hand, the dogs leg grew back.
The dog pranced around the shrine. “Thank you! Thank you!”
The next animal to visit was a skinny horse. The horse told the god, “I am sad because my belly is always empty! I can no longer gallop around the pasture while enjoying the summer breeze!” The god listened intently.
“I hear you. I will make sure your belly is always full!” With a wave of the hand, a feast appeared before the horse. The horse ate its fill and let out a gleeful neigh.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
The third animal to visit was a wooly sheep. The sheep told the god, “I am sad because my wool is thick and heavy. I feel so hot and it’s hard to walk.” The god gave a slight smile.
“I feel your pain. I will relieve you of your thick and heavy coat!” With a wave of the hand the sheeps wool flew off its body and into a neat pile within the shrine. The sheep hopped around the shrine, the heavy weight lifted from its body.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
The final animal to visit was a black cat. The cat told the god, “I am unsure why I am sad.” The god turned their head toward the cat, confused.
“What do you mean you do not know why you feel sad?”
“It is just that, I feel very sad all the time, but I have no reason to feel so sad. I have all my legs, unlike the dog. My belly has always been full unlike the horse. My fur is smooth and cool unlike the sheep.”
“Then what is it you wish for me to do?”
“… I—I do not know...”
The god sighed and looked the cat over. Its black fur was smooth as silk and had eyes that sparkled like stars. The cat had a firm belly, well fed and healthy. There really was no reason for the cat to feel so sad. “Return to me in a month's time. Look within yourself to find what it is that makes you feel so sad.”
The cat lowered its head in disappointment and left the shrine.
A month passed and all of the animals were no longer stuck in their sorrow. Whenever the god walked the streets the animals would bow in the god's presence as a show of their gratitude.
Then one day the black cat reappeared at the shrine. The god had nearly forgotten about what they had told the cat a month prior. The god sits up straight on their chair and looks at the cat. “… Have you figured out what it is that makes you sad?” The glint in the cat's yellow eyes proved it was no longer sad, but something was wrong.
“Yes. I took your advice and began looking within myself to find what it was that made me so sad,” the cat's voice was low, near a growl.
“… And the fruits of your labor…?”
The god got an uneasy feeling as the cat continued, “I am sad because you have changed my friends. They are no longer who they used to be.”
The god scoffed, “You are sad because I bettered your friends' lives?”
“My friends were great as they were, but you forced them to change!”
“I am sorry you feel that way, but have you ever thought that you only felt good by putting your friends down?” The cat stepped back as the god stood. “That the only way you can be happy is if those around you are miserable?”
“I hate you!” The cat lunged at the god with its claws out. The god waved their hand and the cat froze mid-air.
The god looked at the cat and sighed. “All I wished for was the happiness of all the animals of the land. I suppose it is true I cannot make everyone happy. But I refuse to allow someone who will do nothing but harm others. Therefore, I will return your happiness to you. From here on out, your eyes will become one with the stars and you will have an endless grin to shine down on your friends at night.” With another wave of the gods hand, the cat disappeared into the sky and its smile became the crescent moon. All of the animals lived happily ever after thanks to their god.

So then this is the much longer version, from the cats perspective:
There once was a god who came down to the land. The god had heard rumors that the animals living on the land were overwhelmed with feelings of anguish and sorrow. The rumors appeared to be true. This saddened the god, who wanted everyone to experience the feelings of joy. The god then built a shrine and asked all of the animals to visit and explain why they are so sad.
The black cat was speaking to the three-legged dog about the appearance of the god. The dog spoke up. “I find myself often feeling sad when I watch others running through the grass.”
The cat sat next to the dog. “Perhaps you can talk to the god and he can help.”
“But I do not wish for you to perceive me differently if I regain my leg.”
The cat wrapped its tail around the dog's back and said, “I was your friend when you lost your leg and I will be your friend if you regain it.” This was true. When the dog had first lost its leg, it was the cat that allowed the dog to lean on it until it could walk once again, even though the cat was far smaller than the dog.
The dog returned from the shrine running at full speed. “My leg, my leg! I have my leg back!” The cat was overjoyed for its friend.
A few more days passed and the dog was always busy. At first the cat brushed it off, thinking the dog must just be doing all the things it had missed out on since it lost its leg. But the dog seemed to grow weary as time went on. The cat could not help but feel saddened by this change in its friend.
The cat jumped up on the stable wall to visit the horse. The cat drops an apple it had brought onto the hay bed. The horse stretches its neck out and takes a bite. “Thank you my friend. You always bring me the most delicious snacks.”
“I know you do not have enough to eat. I just wish I could bring you more.” The cat lays down on the ledge and dangles its paw down below.
“No, anything you bring me is most appreciated.” The horse finishes the apple with another bite. “I heard the dog went to see the god and got its leg back. I have thought about paying them a visit to see if they can be of help to me.”
The cat stopped flipping its tail and looked at its friend. “Well, I hope that whatever you choose brings you happiness.” The two of them stayed in the stable for the rest of the evening.
A week passed and the horse had disappeared. Everyday the cat would go to the stables to look for its friend. One day, the cat found the horse in its stall with a trough filled to the brim. “What is all this?” The cat gestured with its paw at the fruits and vegetables.
“I visited the god and was given all of this food!” The horse's belly was full and it was prancing around its stall.
The cat felt a bit uneasy hearing this news. “Oh really…? Well, I am glad you have been able to fill your belly.”
The horse dropped a perfectly red apple in front of the cat. “This is just a small repayment for all the times you have brought me something to eat.” The cat smiled and had a lovely meal with its friend.
As time drove on, the horse was out and about more. The cat would sometimes hop on its back and chat while it galloped around. Gradually, the horse seemed to be working harder and harder as time went on. Within the month the horse would often gallop past the cat before it could say a word. The cat began feeling rather lonely.
The sheep laid down in the shady pasture, gnawing on some grass. The cat hopped onto his back and started kneading his wool. “Oh thank you my friend.”
“I cannot take this wool off of your back, but perhaps this will thin it out.” Small bits of wool toppled to the ground.
“I heard that the god was able to help the dog and the horse. Maybe they can help me lighten my load.” The cat paused. The god had in fact helped its friends, but for some reason the cat felt sad at the thought of the sheep going to see the god. “What is wrong, friend?”
The cat continued kneading. “It is nothing. If it will make you happy, I will support you.”
“Thank you.”
A few weeks later the cat tucked bits of ice into the sheeps wool to keep it cool during its journey to see the god. The sheep thanked the cat and went off to the shrine. When the sheep returned it seemed lighter in more ways than one. But in similar fashion to the dog and the horse, the sheep seemed to grow more and more distant.
The sadness the cat felt as all of its friends had less and less time to visit became overwhelming. It curled up into a ball and laid in the sunshine. Perhaps I should see the god as well. The cat stood up and began preparing for the journey to the shrine. When it arrived, the cat saw the shrine decorated in gold. Many animals were working around the shrine. The cat walked through the entrance and saw the god for the first time. They were sitting on an extravagant throne, draped in white silk and decorated with gems of ruby and sapphire. The god did not acknowledge the cat's presence.
The cat told the god, “I am unsure why I am sad.” This seemed to catch the god off guard. He finally turned his focus towards the cat.
“What do you mean you do not know why you feel sad?” The god spoke in sharp tones that seemed to cut into the cat. It flinched with every word.
“It is just that, I feel very sad all the time, but I have no reason to feel so sad. I have all my legs, unlike the dog. My belly has always been full unlike the horse. My fur is smooth and cool unlike the sheep.”
“Then what is it you wish for me to do?”
The cat stumbled over its words “… I—I do not know...”
The god sighed and looked the cat over. Their eyes seemed to drill into the cat as they looked it up and down. “Return to me in a month's time. Look within yourself to find what it is that makes you feel so sad.”
The cat lowered its head in disappointment and left the shrine.
When the cat returned it felt defeated. Everyone else who had seen the god had returned anew. Why is it that the god could do nothing for the cat? It decided to follow the gods advice and began its mission. The cat asked around trying to find the dog. The pig snorted and said, “The dog has been sniffing around in the forest all day, everyday. Thinks it can sniff out the truffles like I can. Ha!” The cat ventured into the forest in search of the dog.
The cat eventually found the dog sniffing at a small pile of truffles it had gathered. “Dog!” The cat called out. The dog turned to look at the cat. Its youthful appearance seemingly aged by years in mere months. “Are you alright? I would love to have a chat with you if that is alright.”
The dog stared through the cat silently before turning back to its pile of truffles. “I am sorry, but I must find more truffles. It is what I am good for after all.”
“Good for…?” The cat walked in front of the dog. “You are good for a lot of things. You are good for conversation. You are good for giving advice. You are good for being my friend. What makes you think you would not be good for anything?”
The dog sighed and nudged at the truffles with its snout. “The god told me I am good for sniffing out these truffles if nothing else. They gave me back my leg. If I do not sniff out these truffles then the god may take my leg back from me.” The dog turned away from the cat. “I need to get back to it. I will try and talk to you another time,” and with that, the dog trodded off, nose to the ground, looking for those darn truffles.
The cat felt like a wave of pain washed over it. Why would the god tell the dog they had no better use than to sniff out truffles? And why would the god threaten to take back the leg they gave to the dog? None of this made sense to the cat, who was walking down the street when someone stepped on its tail. The cat jumped back with its back arched. “Oh my apologies! I am in such a hurry!” The horse didn’t even recognize the cat as it galloped by.
“Horse!” The cat called out.
The horse paused as it looked back at the cat. “Oh goodness, it is you! I have not seen you in so long! I am quite busy as you can see, but if you hop on my back I can give you a ride.” The cat did just that and jumped onto the horses back as it continued on its way. It had a strange harness strapped to it and was pulling a wagon behind it that looked very heavy. “Is there something you wished to speak to me about?”
“This wagon looks to be very heavy. Are you alright pulling it all on your own?”
“Oh this? Well, if I am honest with you, my muscles tend to get very sore from hauling this luggage around all day, but if I wish to keep my belly full then I must endure it.”
“Endure? If it is causing you pain then you should not continue! At the very least you should find a way to make it easier!”
“But it was the god who fed me, and it was the god who told me I must earn my fill. If I stop then my belly would fall flat again.”
The cat felt an anger boil up inside. Through gritted teeth it growled, “The god should not hold food over your head like a threat.”
“I have no other choice. No one is willing to share their food with me anymore, so I only have the god to turn to.” The horse stopped by the pasture. “I need to take a left here, so it would be best for you to hop down now. I hope we can talk again some time!”
The cat watched as the horse galloped down the road, heavy wagon in tow. Once the horse was out of sight, the cat jumped onto the wooden fence railing. It walked along that edge for awhile before seeing a fluffy white mountain in the distance. The cat leaped from the fence to investigate. It walked around the mound when it heard a familiar voice. “Sheep…? Is that you?” The sheeps head popped out of the wool.
“Hello cat,” the sheep panted.
“What on earth is going on?! I thought the god removed your hot and heavy wool!” The cat began trying to dig out its friends face from the never ending fibers.
“Yes, yes… the god… they did remove my wool… it just… keeps coming back… the god sends someone… out here on occasion… to collect my wool…” The sheep was burning up.
“But it was never this bad before! How did it get to this point?!” The cat desperately tried to tear away the wool to relieve its friend from the heat.
“I was feeling… very uncomfortable… awhile back… so I asked goat… to use its horns… and pull away my wool…” The sheep felt the heavy weight of its wool crushing its chest. “When the god… heard I removed the wool… they were very angry… they said I should have… dealt with the discomfort… so as punishment… the god… made the wool grow thicker… and faster… They have not returned… to remove it… in weeks…” The cat stuck out its claws and began shredding through the wool. Puffs floated away with the wind, but it hardly made a dent in the ever growing mound. “I think… it was… a mistake… to trust… the god…”
The sheep closed its eyes as the wool slowly covered its face. “No! Sheep! Please! I will keep you cool! I will not let the god get away with this! Please do not leave me!” But it was too late. The thick wool had been too hot and heavy for the sheep, who had passed away from suffocation.
The cat laid curled up under the stars. All of its friends were miserable. All because of the god. The god did nothing for the benefit of its friends, only using them to benefit themself. The cat had met many other animals after the sheep passed who went through similar experiences. The bird was being forced to fly across the land to deliver messages for the god. The bee is constantly producing sweet honey for the god to eat. The hen was laying eggs every day to fill the gods breakfast plate. Sure, the god did give them something in return, but the price they must pay the god was far too steep. The cat decided that it wasn’t going to let the god get away with this. It set out on its journey to kill god.
The cat approached the shrine with a new view of it. Decorated with gold as animals shuffled around. The monkey was busy carving away at a marble statue of the god. The cow pulling a wagon filled with the finest silks walked past. All of these animals had become slaves to the god, just as the cats friends had.
The cat entered the shrine where the god sat, lopsided on their throne. Somehow the god was decorated with even more gems and jewels than last time. They noticed the cat and became flustered, obviously having forgotten about it. “… Have you figured out what it is that makes you sad?” The cats eyes were filled with fire, the burning rage it felt knowing the god had caused its friends suffering.
“Yes. I took your advice and began looking within myself to find what it was that made me so sad,” the cat's voice was low, near a growl.
The god shifted in their chair “… And the fruits of your labor…?”
The cat continued, “I am sad because you have hurt my friends. They are no longer who they used to be.”
The god scoffed, “You are sad because I bettered your friends' lives?” The sarcasm dripped from their lips and fueled the cat's rage like gasoline.
“My friends were great as they were, but you forced them to change and become nothing more than your slaves!”
“I am sorry you feel that way, but have you ever thought that you only felt good by putting your friends down?” The cat stood its ground as the god raised from their seat. “That the only way you can be happy is if those around you are miserable? They chose this life, and they can abandon it if they so choose.”
“How can they leave when you will put them in worse condition than when they first sought you out?”
“That is merely their punishment for disobeying me.” The god waves their hand in a dismissive manner.
“My friend the sheep is dead.” The god stopped, facing away from the cat.
“… dead?”
“Yes. Dead. Because of you. It was suffocated by the wool you made grow from its back at exasperated rates.” The god gently set their hand on the arm of the throne. Perhaps they felt bad knowing they caused the death of a living being.
“That is… too bad…” The god slowly turned to sit. “I was needing more of its wool to create a blanket. I suppose the wool that killed it is contaminated by now, making it useless.
Time stopped. Or perhaps it didn’t, but that is how it felt to the cat. It felt nothing. Not the breeze from the open door, nor the sunlight streaming in through the window. It was as though the last ounce of hope had been sucked out of the cats body. “… that is my friend you are speaking of…”
The god glanced at the cat, eyes full of contempt. “And your friend is now dead. There is nothing you can do about it.”
“… you are no god…” the cat muttered.
The god whipped their head toward the cat, face contorted in rage. “I AM GOD!”
“You are no god.” The cat stood firm and refused to break eye contact with the fake god.
“I AM GOD!” The fake gods' rage brought upon a storm. The wind whipped around the room and the sun became black.
“YOU. ARE. NO. GOD.” The fake god flailed their arms about as their tantrum grew. They screamed and yelled that they were, in fact, a god. The cat did not budge from its place.
“I hate you!” The fake god screeched. It lifted the cat from the ground. “I will kill you too!”
Finally the cat made its move. It stuck out its claws and scratched the fake gods eyes. They threw the cat across the room and it slammed against the wall. The fake god held their hands to their face as blood leaked between their fingers. “What have you done to me?! I am god!”
The cat was no warrior. It could feel the life slowly draining from its body. “… you… are… no… god…” The fake god shriveled into a ball as they wailed out in pain. The cat was happy to hear it. At least it had gotten revenge for its friends.
“… tragedy…”
What is this sound?
“… do not… this…”
It sounds so sweet, like sugar dropped in a cup of tea.
“… poor thing…”
There was a hand stroking the cats side as it lay dying in the shrine of the fake god. The hand was soft and delicate, careful as it caressed the cats broken body. The cat was able to muster enough strength to look at the owner of this kind hand. It belonged to the god. Not the fake god, but the real one.
“Are you conscious? I am so sorry for what my sibling has done to you and your friends. They were not always like this. There was a time when that sweet child would cling to my skirts and beg me to play with them. Perhaps I should have played with them… Then they would not have grown to become like this…” The cat no longer felt the pain of death consuming it. “I cannot give you life and I cannot apologize enough for the suffering my sibling has caused. I intend to return home with them, so they will never be able to harm anyone again. As for you, the least I can do is give you a place in the sky, so you can always guard over your friends for all eternity.”
“… the night…” the cat wheezed.
“The night? Do you wish for your eyes to be stars in the night sky? That would be rather fitting as they sparkle and shine.”
“… I wish… to be a light… in the darkness of night… my friends… always said… my smile… lit up the room…”
The true god gave a gentle smile as they brushed the cat's fur, its chest rising and falling less and less. “… If that is what you wish, then I will make your smile into the moon, so even when darkness comes, there will always be a light.”
The cat gave a toothy grin to the god. “… thank… you…” The cat died.
The god lifted the small body of the black cat and cradled it in its arms. Night had already fallen since the cat's earnest battle with the gods' younger sibling. The god lifted the cats body into the air. A gentle breeze took the cat away into the night sky, where a crescent moon began to glow. The black cat was happy at last.
submitted by Curlycue1412 to KeepWriting [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 04:22 Lost_Flamingo777 TQM being extremely tone deaf and literally shrugging off of her responsibility as an influencer

TQM being extremely tone deaf and literally shrugging off of her responsibility as an influencer
To say that creators don’t promote hoarding with haul videos is an antithesis in itself. One look at their home tours and wardrobes will show just how much they themselves hoard. Apart from promoting fast fashion they also promote single use of a product. I’ve never seen TQM herself wearing her own big clothing purchases or outfits from scratch, more than once.
I commend creators like Prerna Chhabra, who actively promote the wearability of their wardrobe pieces more than once.
Also, how delusional of you to compare hoarding of clothes and junk jewellery with books and files. FYI, keeping paperwork is not hoarding, and most people in a 9-5 are advised by their employers to shred these files/papers after their projects or work is done. Please check how paper waste and clothing waste differ in recyclability and what is the carbon footprint of each.
About 1,800 gallons of water are needed to produce the cotton in a pair of jeans, and 400 gallons to produce the cotton in a shirt. Whereas it takes 6 gallons of water to make 1 pound of paper.
And how tone deaf and insensitive of you to shrug off all responsibility as a creator towards your teen audiences. Parents are not watching your entire videos to filter out haul content. It’s your job as a creator to not promote unsustainable things. And to think that you don’t have a young impressionable audience? Girls literally address you as didi in comments, and you think these are 25/30 year olds with financial and mental maturity???
And the biggest flaw in your commentary; on one hand you speak of financial struggle and on other you speak of frivolous purchases, gifts and the obsession with brands; which started with H&M and Zara to Cartier and LV now. And an audience that relates to your humble beginnings, how do you think these big purchases will make them feel? It could make them feel unsuccessful and completely worthless. They might feel that studies are not taking anyone anywhere, why hoard books when you can hoard clothes. And this bad influence is on you Miss, not on anyone else. This is the kind of message you’re giving to your audience. So grow up and take responsibility for your actions and words.
submitted by Lost_Flamingo777 to InstaCelebsGossip [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 02:34 OregonHotPocket Built a compost corral and added fresh greens and shredded paper grocery bags… gave the tumbler to a friend… so much better now

Built a compost corral and added fresh greens and shredded paper grocery bags… gave the tumbler to a friend… so much better now submitted by OregonHotPocket to composting [link] [comments]

2023.05.27 02:24 Quirky-Motor As Asian American and Pacific Islander heritage month draws to a close here in the United States, I wanted to share an EXPANDED collection of write-ups featuring the stories of Asians/Pacific Islanders who are currently missing or whose cases have not been resolved.

As Asian American and Pacific Islander heritage month draws to a close here in the United States, I wanted to share a collection of write-ups featuring the stories of Asians/Pacific Islanders who are currently missing or whose cases have not been resolved. This is an expansion of a piece I post annually and therefore may it sound similar. These are mostly my pieces as well as a few other cases that I have remembered reading about over the last year or two including some cases recommended by readers. Feel free to add other cases which have stuck with you down in the comment section. I hope to garner some exposure for these lesser known cases and links to sources can be found at the bottom or embedded.
Khoi Dang Vu was a deaf American man who went missing from his family’s home in 2007 in Vancouver, Washington. He left on a rainy night without his coat, bike, or any belongings. His case is now considered a homicide and no trace of him has ever been found. True Crime Bullsh*t, an investigative podcast, has surmised that Vu may be a victim of serial killer Israel Keyes. The FBI considers the case a kidnapping. Khoi is of Vietnamese descent. My write up here-
Slideshow made my Khoi's sister-
Wallace Guidroz went missing from Tacoma in 1983 when he was only two years old. His father took him to a park, went on a walk with a mysterious man, and then when he returned Wallace was gone. Wallace has never been seen again. He is of Korean and African American descent.
Helen Doe is an unidentified decedent who died in a semi-truck crash in Kalama, Washington in 1991. Although she is believed to be Native American, Asian, Hispanic, and mixed heritage cannot be ruled out. Her story can be found here. A new facial reconstruction can be see here.
Grays Harbor Jane Doe was found in 1984 off of a logging road in Southern Washington state. She was middle aged and believed to be of Asian descent. You can read about her here.
In 1963 the body of an unidentified man was found floating in the Spokane River in Spokane, Washington. The man had most likely drowned. He is believed to be of Asian descent but white and mixed descent could not be ruled out. His story, as well as the stories of 16 other unknown persons from Spokane can be found here.
Gary Ridgway aka the Green River Killer terrorized the Pacific Northwest for decades. What many people do not know is that the Green River task force is still in operation. Ridgway confessed to 71 murders, but only around 49 bodies have been found meaning there are more victims waiting to be discovered or reported missing. Two of Gary Ridgway’s known victims were of Asian American or Pacific Islander backgrounds. Marie Malvar, who was of Filipino descent, and Kimi Kai Pitsor who was native Hawaiian, but there may be more. To read about the stories of these young girls as well as other victims of Ridgway you can start here.
Diane Nguyen Robbins was only 13 in 1985 when she was last seen. She disappeared with her 21 year old friend, Molly Purdin, who was later found murdered. Both Diane and her friend were from Kennewick, Washington but Molly’s was found in northern King County. Gary Ridgway is a suspect in both cases. Diane is of Vietnamese and white descent.
Edward Ryon Makuahanai Aikau, usually known as Eddie Aikau, a famous lifeguard and surfer, was credited with saving over 500 people at Waimea bay on Oahu’s north shore during his tenure as lifeguard. In fact not one person was reported drowned during Eddie’s shifts at the beach. In 1978, 31 year old Aikau had decided to join the Polynesia Voyaging society, a group who planned to travel from Hawaii to Tahiti using only outrigger canoes. Shortly into their journey one canoe sprung a leak and eventually capsized 12 miles south of Molokai. Eddie paddled on his surfboard towards Lanai in a valiant effort to summon help, but soon disappeared. The US Coast Guard were able to save all the passengers and a huge search was launched but Eddie was never found and is presumed drowned. Eddie Aikau is a household name in Hawaii and in the surfing community. Competitions bearing his name and t-shirts, bumper stickers, and other items inscribed with “Eddie would go” are a constant reminder of his legacy and memory. Eddie was of Native Hawaiian and Caucasian, mostly Portuguese, descent. His story can be found here.
Rachel Mellon, sometimes reported as Rachel Mellon Skemp or Rachel Mellon Kemp was a 13 year old who disappeared from her Illinois home when she was home sick one day in 1996. Her step-father is the primary suspect in her disappearance and diary entries from several months earlier reported that her step dad had touched her inappropriately and tried to kiss her. Rachel is of Asian descent but her family reports she is often mistaken for Greek or Italian. Her case can be found here.
Hang Lee, a 17 year old girl, went missing from St Paul Minnesota on January 12th 1993. Hang was last seen with a friend Kia “Nikki” Lee. She left home with this friend between 6:00 and 7:00 p.m. but when Nikki returned home an hour later, Hang was not with her. Nikki initially told authorities Hang had left with some unidentified young men. She later changed her story and said Hang had gone to a job interview with Nikki's own employer, Mark Steven Wallace, at Wallace's small painting and carpentry business on Iroquois Avenue. Wallace told Nikki that he was looking to hire another employee and she suggested her friend Hang as Hang was looking for a new job. Nikki thought that this request from Wallace was odd as he did not have enough work to hire another employee at that time. Nikki eventually told authorities that she and Hang went to Wallace's place of work and drove around with him in a white truck before switching and driving around in a tan Chevy Cavalier. Wallace dropped Nikki off and then left with Hang in the car. Wallace also told Nikki to not report what happened to the police.After a few interviews with the police Nikki retained an attorney and is no longer cooperating. Wallace denied involvement but also retained an attorney. Wallace is the prime suspect in the disappearance of Hang Lee. He has a record which includes rape, kidnapping, stalking, and drug possession. Hang Lee has never been located and her mother and 13 siblings are still looking for her.Hang is described as a sweet and naïve teenager who is only 17 and 1993. She was 5 ft tall and weighed 90 lb. She was last seen wearing a lightweight black leather jacket, a black t-shirt with "Skid Row" written on the back, black jeans or slacks, sneakers and several pieces of jewelry, including two silver bracelets. She is described as an Asian female with black hair and brown eyes. Her parents moved from Lao (sometimes spelled Laos in the US), and she is Hmong descent. She speaks both English and Hmong. She left behind her purse, a paycheck, and all of her other belongings.Full article here.
Deborah Palmer was only 7 years old in 1997 when she was last seen getting ready for school. Her mother said goodbye as Deborah left the home to walk a few blocks to her elementary school in Oak Harbor, Washington. When Deborah’s mother tried to drop off lunch a few hours later, she was shocked to learn that her daughter never arrived. Five days later, Deborah’s body was found on a beach a few miles away. She had been strangled but not sexually assaulted. Her case is cold and unsolved 25 years later. Deborah is of African American and Filipino descent.
In September of 2019, Tampa native Paulino Norberto Del Mundo Japor Jr. decided she wanted to go on a 10 vacation to Cozumel, Mexico but during a layover in Dallas she called her sister and asked for help getting a ticket back to Florida as she had changed her mind about going to Mexico. Her family said on the phone she sounded “desperate” and “incoherent.” She never boarded a flight home or boarded her plane to Mexico. Her last known whereabouts were documented on security tapes from the Dallas airport. Her phone and bank account have not been used since that day and she was never seen again. Paulino is a transgender woman who went by the names Paula, Paulina, or Pauline. Although Paula had lived as a woman for years she had not medically transitioned and it appears she still used Paulino Norberto as her legal first and middle name. She is of Filipino descent and her family is still hoping for answers.
In 1999, Xuan Cao, a 53-year-old man from China, was visiting the USA as part of a tour group. His tour group had just gotten to a hotel in North Bergen, NJ, when Xuan said he was going out to make a phone call. He disappeared and never came back. He left behind his passport and all of his luggage. It is not believed to be a voluntary disappearance.
In 1990, Tu Thi-Cam Tran, a student at the University of Maryland, Baltimore County, vanished one night on her way back to her car from the University Center. Tu, who was of Vietnamese descent, was 24 years old at the time, and in her senior year at UMBC. She went missing in the small window of time between leaving her classroom and getting into her car. Here's a write-up on her case with some more information.
Ashok Kuman Narain was last seen in Eugene, Oregon in either 1987 or 1988 where he lived with his wife and young daughter after moving from Fiji several years earlier. In 1987 the dismembered body of a pregnant woman and the body of a toddler were found floating nearby in Washington and Oregon. 20 years later these bodies were identified as Raj Mati Narain and Kamnee Koushal, the wife and daughter of Ashok, after Raj’s brother read a story about the unidentified bodies online. He had not heard from his sister since 1987 when Raj’s letters back to her family in Fiji mysteriously stopped. Ashok is wanted for questioning but his whereabouts are unknown. Authorities are looking for a white 1980 Toyota Tercel with the Oregon license plate number KUV762, which disappeared with Ashok and may be connected to Raj and Kamnee's homicides. Both Oregon and Washington authorities are investigating his disappearance.Most sources say the family is of Indo Fijian descent, however, the Charley project now reports that Ashok is of native Fijian descent. You can read their tragic story here.
Queens Jane Doe was an unidentified woman who fell to her death accidentally after falling off an elevated train platform in Queens, New York in January, 2000. She is described as an 18 to 28 year old Asian or Pacific Islander woman who is 5 ft 1 in in height and weighed 113 lb. She had brown eyes and 7” straight dark brown hair. She was wearing a dark brown Albert Duke brand leather jacket, a blue and white plaid button-up shirt, a dark colored bra, blue jeans, white underwear, and black Euro sneakers or boots. She was also wearing earrings. Her identity is still a mystery to this day. You can find more information here, but please be careful as post-mortem photos are available of this woman.
In 2011, Mansoor Riaz, a Microsoft software engineer, vanished one night from his Bellevue, Washington apartment. Riaz is of Pakistani descent. His story can be found here.
Yuan Xia Wang went missing near Washington DC when she was headed for a doctor’s appointment. Yuan had been found at Dulles Airport when a man who was smuggling people into the country was detained and Yuan was one of his charges. Police became suspicious when Yuan who was supposedly a Thai citizen could not speak or understand Thai, but rather spoke Mandarin. Yuan told authorities her parents in Fuzhou, China had paid money for this man to get her into the country using a Thai passport. She was supposed to live with an aunt in the US, but she didn't know where or who this person was so she was placed in foster care for the time being. Other reports say that her smuggler was supposed to take her to a hotel in Alexandria, Virginia. Her foster parents hired a Mandarin speaking babysitter to stay with her until she was enrolled in at a local middle school. Yuan went missing only a few weeks later while on the way to a doctor's appointment. She reportedly got off the school bus and was supposed to take a cab to the doctors but vanished by the time the cab arrived. Although Yuan said she was 12, she was 5’ 6” in height and most people thought she was probably 14-15 at the time of her disappearance. She is of Chinese descent and speaks Mandarin. Police believe she either ran away, was kidnapped by her family members or smugglers, or met with foul play. She may have been seen in Kansas city in 2008. Sadly her dentals, fingerprints, and DNA and not available.
Su Cha Kim a 54 year old shop owner from Twin Falls, Idaho Was found murdered in her massage parlor in 1997. Her case is unsolved and cold. Unfortunately, little information is available online.
Faloma Luhk, 10, and Maleina Luhk, 9, disappeared while waiting for their school bus in As Teo, Saipan, Northern Mariana Islands, on May 25th, 2011. The girls were last seen sitting on a concrete slab at 6:10 a.m. across the road from their bus stop, only 300 feet from the home they shared with their grandparents. The bus arrived and left without them at 6:30 am but the girls were not reported missing until they didn’t come home after school that day. The 12 mile long island of Saipan was searched thoroughly by friends, family, locals, and the FBI but no trace of the girls or their things were ever found and their disappearance remains one of the most well known mysteries from the Northern Mariana Islands. Both girls are described as Pacific Islander females with brown hair and brown eyes. In 2011, Faloma had bronze colored highlights in her bangs, and Maleina had a large birthmark on her left cheek. She is reported as small and short for her age. A distant family member by marriage, who was later arrested for domestic violence, is the prime suspect in the case. He has never been named publicly.
Dong Chull Jung disappeared within minutes in Lakewood, Washington. The 78 year old was residing at the Golden Lion Motel on Tacoma Way in Lakewood, Washington. The establishment has long been a hotbed of criminal activity and violence since at least the 1990s. On average the police responded to incidents at the 24-room hotel over 100 times per year. November 22nd 2003 was one of those times. On that day witnesses called the police after hearing a “disturbance” in Dong’s room. When the authorities arrived, they found a giant pool of blood on the floor as well as Dong’s prescription eyeglasses, but Dong was nowhere to be found. According to the News Tribune, a paper out of Tacoma, one week before Dong’s disappearance he was granted a temporary domestic violence protection order from a Paul C. Jung, who might be Dong’s adult son. In June of 2003, someone named Hae Sung Jung, got a restraining order against Dong. Hae might be the estranged wife of Dong, but this isn’t known for sure. There are vague reports that Dong was having “marital issues'' at the time of his disappearance. Very little information is available in the case. The Golden Lion Inn was finally torn down in 2017 but the fate of the elderly man who resided within remains a mystery. Dong is described as an Asian (Korean) male, with brown eyes and thinning gray hair. He is 5’6'' and weighs 135 lbs. Dong wears prescription eyeglasses but they were left behind when he vanished. If you have any information regarding the disappearance of Dong Jung please call Pierce County Crime Stoppers 253-591-5959.
Gordon Kaipo Kealoha, 59, disappeared along with his dog Mahina in 2011. They were last seen fishing near Honolulu where they lived on July 8; Gordon cherished Mahina and brought her almost everywhere he went. After his disappearance, Gordon's white minivan was found abandoned, and his dinghy was found in the water, floating away from his home. Gordon is 6'1 and 250 pounds, and he is of Native Hawaiian descent.
Amber Aiaz and Melissa Fu were mother and daughter who went missing In November, 2019 from Irvine, California. The story of their disappearance and possible kidnapping is complicated. I would suggest reading the story here or here if you are interested in the details but the basic story is this. Amber's husband, Cheng Zhang, reported his wife and stepdaughter missing to the police about a week after they were last seen. He said that a Chinese man and woman came to his door, put something on his face and he passed out. He reported that when he woke up he found blood and evidence of a struggle in the apartment. He also found a note telling him not to report his wife and daughter missing to the police for at least several days and continued to get notes over the next week. He did what the notes instructed for the next several days. When he finally did report his wife and stepdaughter missing, police were skeptical of his story to say the least. Several months later police reported that they had found nothing to indicate that Cheng’s story was untrue, including over 40 hours of interviews with him and 44 days of around the clock surveillance. In the past Amber had told acquaintances that she was a very wealthy woman who had millions of dollars to her name. While this was not true, authorities speculated that Amber may have been kidnapped for ransom only for her captors to find out that her story of riches was nothing more than a farce. Amber's money has not been touched in either her Chinese or American bank accounts. Both mother and daughter left behind their passports and there's no indication that either of them have entered China.
Amber is described as a 34-year-old Chinese woman who is 5'9 and weighed 180 lb. She has black hair and brown eyes. When last seen she was wearing a black shirt, a black vest, black fitted pants with white writing on them, and light colored shoes. She may use the name Mei Yi Wu or Meiyi W. Wu.
Melissa is described as a 12 or 13 year old Chinese female with black hair and brown eyes. She was 5 '11” in height and weighed about 200 lb. She was last seen wearing a black tracksuit.
Cheng described the unidentified abductors as a Chinese couple in their 40s. Both had average builds. The woman was reported to be about 5’8” and had her black hair tied back in a bun. The man was of average build about 190 lb. and 5 '10”. He had short black hair. The couple may have been driving a black Cadillac and they may have been seen near the apartment complex that day by other neighbors.
Destiny Dee Sanith was last seen by her family on March 3rd, 2022 in Williamstown New Jersey. At about 2:30 in the afternoon on March 3rd, she asked her mom if she could borrow the car to go visit a friend in South Philadelphia. When Destiny did not return in the evening her mother learned that she never made it to her friend's house that day. New Jersey police had contact with Destiny at about 5:20 a.m. on March 4th In Folsom New Jersey. Destiny and her car were near a strip mall at the time. What exactly happened is not clear but police reported they helped Destiny move her car into a parking spot and then gave her a ride to a Wawa convenience store about a mile up the road. Destiny's family has reported that they have surveillance video of Destiny entering and then later leaving the Wawa store after purchasing a drink. At about 9:00 a.m. she was seen leaving the store with a drink crossing the road, turning into another convenience store and then going behind the building and out of view. This is the last known sighting and location of Destiny Sanith. On March 5th when Destiny had still not returned home she was reported missing to the police and her family learned about her interaction with the police on the morning of March 4th. Destiny has not been seen or heard from since.
Destiny is described as an Asian female 27 years old, who is 5'6 and height and weighs about 160 lb. She reportedly has short wavy brown hair and brown eyes. She was last seen wearing black sweatpants, a black Nike sweatshirt, a backpack, white and red Air Jordan sneakers, wearing earrings and carrying a coffee. She has a tattoo of the Virgo symbol on her right hand. Her nickname is Dara. Her family has set up a GoFundMe to help find Destiny and hire a private investigator. Full article here.
Myong Keun Noah, who went by the nickname Mike, was seen by his family at around 7:00 p.m. on May 1st, 2007 in San Bruno, CA. Mike owned a private car company called E Limousine Services that he ran out of his home. That evening Mike told his son that he had to leave to pick up a 7:30 p.m fare. He did not tell his son where he was picking up the fare. Mike's wife was at an evening class at the time. Neither he or his black Lincoln town car was ever seen again. His car was new and didn't have permanent license plates, but had the transportation carrier permit number TCP 18525 printed on the back bumper. It had a transponder that registers when it enters San Francisco International Airport, but the transponder did not register a trip to the airport that evening. A search of parking areas at both the San Francisco Airport and the Oakland Airport did not locate Mike or his car. Mike's bank account and his phone have not been used since May 1st, 2007. Mike had no history of running away or dropping out of sight, he had no reported mental health issues, no personal problems, and no enemies. Police report that they are baffled by his disappearance. Mike was a US Army veteran and a naturalized American citizen. He had one teenaged son with his current wife and two adult children from a previous marriage however, no one in Mike's family has heard from him since May 1st, 2007. Mike is described as an Asian male, 60 years old in 2007, with brown eyes and black and gray hair. He is 5 ft 8 in in height and weighs about 165 lbs. He was last seen wearing a black suit with a white shirt. He may spell his last name “Noh.” He is of Korean descent.
What happened to these people?
submitted by Quirky-Motor to UnresolvedMysteries [link] [comments]

2023.05.26 22:04 GTripp14 We took a tour of a sanitorium. Something is terribly wrong there.

Have you ever been to a haunted house?
One of those haunted houses that open in your town around the first of October. Some places use their old jail or defunct courthouse to create a local tourist attraction. Sometimes it’s a charity that uses the funds to supplement its budget.
You know the type. It’s filled with fake cotton spiderwebs, men in cheap masks, dim lighting, and the terrible loop of screams atop the cheap mood music. The lights will randomly turn off only to turn back on and reveal one of your favorite movie slashers standing only feet away.
Those are the ones.
My friends and I used to go to them every year since middle school, but I’ll never go again.
Some of them are real. Some of them you never walk away from.
During my senior year of high school, my group of friends decided that the local haunted houses were kind of played out for us. We wanted something fresh. Something that would scare us. Nothing we could find within a thirty-mile drive had done the trick.
Then Jimmy told us about Stanford Sanatorium. That’s right, a sanatorium. Not a sanitarium. This place had been used as a tuberculosis hospital back in the early nineteen hundreds. An outbreak of tuberculosis called “The White Plague” hit the area so they built a huge hospital to handle all of the chronic cases.
Sometime in the sixties, a new medication was created to treat TB that made sanitoriums obsolete. The building stood empty for a few decades after that. Sometime in the eighties, a business investor purchased the property and intended to convert it into a hotel, but plans fell through for some reason or another.
The sanatorium continued to fall into disrepair and eventually, the city took ownership. They converted it into a museum dedicated to the history of “The White Plague” and medical history from that period. It helped pay for the upkeep, but the budget was still razor-thin.
That’s when the city commissioner decided to offer “haunted” tours of the building. They proved to be a decent hit and eventually evolved into a nearly month-long haunted hospital tour during the Halloween season. It was only two hours away from us and it seemed perfect.
What could be scarier than a building where hundreds of people died, right?
Our parents were hesitant at first, but we wore them down. We would leave town early, take the tour before it was even dark, and then head home immediately. No big deal.
When we arrived, the building was staggering. Three stories of red brick. The front was covered in long walkways and hundreds of doors were visible. Each room was completely separated and opened up to the outdoors to provide better ventilation than architecture at the time would allow.
The structure seemed sturdy, but heavy cracks and thick vines ran up the sides of the building. All of the paint flaked and peeled from the doors. Some of the windows on the top floor were broken and left uncovered.
There were almost no cars in the parking lot. The sun still sat high in the sky. Who wanted to take a haunted hospital tour in the daylight?
I still wish we had never gone in.
Jimmy, Carlos, Stephen, and I jumped out of the car and followed the signs to the admission table. A woman wearing an old-fashioned nursing outfit sat at the desk and took five dollars from each of us and then slid a clipboard in front of us.
It was a liability release. We laughed and told her we were minors and were too young to sign. She smiled.
“We’ll need you to sign it anyway,” she said in a whispering tone. “You never know what could happen!”
We all laughed and signed the sheets of paper and handed them to her. At the time, we thought it was supposed to set the tone, but now I know she was serious. I wish we had never gone inside.
Our half-hour inside was kind of a bust. The tour was self-guided and you could go anywhere in any order you wanted. We opted to check out the patient rooms first, assuming there would be horrifying scenes, but we were quickly let down.
The rooms sat in ruins. A rusted bed frame with a shredded mattress. Bedpans, molding sheets, and splintering chairs scattered the floor. The only thing in those rooms worth signing a release for would have been the risk of tetanus.
“Man, this kind of blows,” Carlos said as we walked down the open-air corridor. “Want to head home? This seems like it wasn’t worth the trip.”
Stephen pulled a brochure for the place out of his back pocket. Unfolding it, he thumped the map with his middle finger excitedly. We all looked down.
“The rooms are only part of the tour,” he exclaimed. “In the basement, there is still an operating theater and morgue. We’ve gotta check that out before we go.”
We all shrugged and followed Stephen as he guided us toward the stairwell leading into the basement. I’m not sure how many flights we walked down, but it seemed like it took ages. What the rooms lacked in disturbing scenery, the way to the basement made up for it quickly.
Once we entered the basement, the smell of must and decay filled our noses. The sounds of dripping water echoed through the empty halls. We walked cautiously in the low light, expecting a jump scare or two, but one never came.
Somehow, the lack of intended horror made it worse.
Our footsteps echoed off the grime-covered tile walls and occasionally we would splash through a shallow puddle. None of us spoke. The ambiance of the subterranean levels had crept into our bones.
As we continued walking, we could see a brighter light ahead.
“Looks like we’re almost to the operating theatre,” Jimmy said as he looked at his pamphlet. “According to this, we can watch a… surgery in progress. Let’s check it out.”
We reached a wall of dirty windows and saw the first people on our entire tour. Two men in old-fashioned surgical scrubs spattered with gore stood over a body on the table. Their scalpels danced over the torso of the body as the person convulsed.
“We’re losing him!” one of the men shouted. “Get me more ether! We have to calm him down!”
The other doctor grabbed a bottle and a breathing mask but the man on the table smacked their hands and sprung to his feet. He darted toward the window and pressed his body against the glass. His open wound looked… so real. Flecks of blood smeared the window as his organs pulsed and pushed from the cavity.
“You’ve got to help me!” he panted. “Get me out of here! We have to escape!”
Without a word, the four of us darted away from the window and ran down the hall as quickly as we could. Pushing through a set of double doors, we entered another dimly lit room and began to pant. After a few moments, we began to chuckle.
“Holy shit!” Jimmy shouted. “That was wild! This was worth it. Do you guys… oh man. Look at the walls.”
We looked around to see dozens of quarter-sized metal doors lining the walls.
It was the morgue.
“Should we look inside?” Carlos asked as he approached one of the doors.
Before I could even respond, he tugged at the rusted handle and pulled it open. Leaning into the darkness to get a better look, he began to talk before a pair of ivory arms wrapped around him and pulled him inside.
We darted to the door and opened it, but no one was inside. It was no larger than a coffin and we couldn’t see a trap door. We searched the other coolers one by one, calling Carlos’ name but there was no sign of him.
“What the hell?” Jimmy said. “This has to be some kind of joke. He’s messing with us.”
Suddenly the room filled with the sound of hands thudding against the metal doors of the morgue coolers. In full panic, the three of us ran from the room and back to our car. On the way, we saw that the nurse and the admission table were gone.
We drove straight home and told our parents everything.
Carlos’ family called the police to report their son missing. After investigating, the detectives reported that when they made contact with the organization that ran the sanatorium, it wasn’t due to open for another week.
There was no staff there that day.
We never saw our friend again.
submitted by GTripp14 to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.05.26 21:44 You_Savvy [USA-MI] [H] Pokemon Games, Main Line Nintendo Games, Zelda, Mario, Fire Emblem, GBA / DS / 3DS / N64 / Gamecube / Wii Games[W] Paypal

Will only respond to people who post in the thread. Selling lots of games and consoles.
Taking only PayPal F&F at this time.
Please let me know if you want pictures of anything or want to see any boards, all games are 100% authentic. Some cases do have varying degrees of damage and anything that stands out will be noted, please look through the pictures or ask for more to know exactly what you’re buying.
Everything is tested and working.
Shipping is $5 on all orders.
Consoles and misc Price Condition
Black Nintendo "new" 3DS XL $220 In great condition with minimal ware, screens are perfect, comes with OEM charger but no stylus
Jungle Green N64 $200 Comes complete with controller, expansion pak, and cords, in fantastic condition
Cobalt Blue GBA SP $70 Used with ware
Gameboy/Color Games Price Condition
Pokemon Blue $50 Loose, brand new battery
Pokemon Red $40 Loose, label worn/faded, brand new battery
Zelda Link’s Awakening $32 Loose, battery still working
Zelda Oracle of Seasons $50 Loose, battery still working
GBA Games Price Condition
Golden Sun $42 Loose
Pokemon Leaf Green $83 Loose
Pokemon Ruby $50 Loose, has no label but authentic cartridge, brand new battery
Pokemon Emerald $150 Loose, label has ware, brand new battery
DS Games Price Condition
Pokemon White 2 $150 CIB, back of cover has small tare
Pokemon Black 2 $125 Loose
Pokemon White $60 Loose, 1 small bracket on the back broke off, still plays fine
Pokemon Soul Silver $140 CIB
Pokemon Soul Silver $105 Loose
Pokemon Platinum $125 CIB
Pokemon Diamond $55 CIB
Pokemon Conquest $60 Loose
Pokemon Ranger $25 Loose
Advance Wars Dual Strike $25 Loose
Professor Layton and the Last Specter $84 CIB
Professor Layton and The Diabolical Box $16 Case and inserts, no manual
Animal Crossing Wild World $22 CiB
Dragon Ball Z: Harukanaru Densetsu $10 Loose
Yu-Gi-Oh 5D's Stardust Accelerator $16 Loose
Custom Robo Arena $24 Loose
Digimon World Dusk $30 Loose
3DS Games Price Condition
Pokemon Y $30 CIB
Pokemon Y $24 Loose
Pokemon X $24 Loose
Pokemon Ultra Sun $28 Loose
Pokemon Sun $18 CIB
Pokemon Sun $14 Loose
Pokemon Moon $18 CIB
Pokemon Moon $14 Loose
Fire Emblem Fates: Birthright $40 CIB
Project X Zone $60 CIB
Monster Hunter 4 Ultimate $20 CIB
Kirby: Triple Deluxe $15 Loose
Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask 3D $28 CIB
Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time 3D $20 CIB, nintendo select
Dragon Quest VIII: Journey of the Cursed King $90 CIB
Dragon Quest VII: Fragments of the Forgotten Past $60 CIB
Final Fantasy Explorers $25 CIB
Mario & Luigi: Dream Team $32 CIB
Mario & Luigi: Superstar Saga + Bowser's Minions $60 CIB
Paper Mario Sticker Star $20 CIB
Bravely Second: End Layer $30 CIB
N64 Games Price Condition
Super Mario 64 $30 Loose
Zelda OOT $26 Loose
Zelda Majora's Mask $60 Loose
Zelda Majora's Mask $60 Loose
Paper Mario $70 Loose
Mario Party 3 $55 Loose
Mario Party $35 Loose
Rampage 2: Universal Tour $30 Loose
Donkey Kong 64 $25 Loose
Banjo-Kazooie $25 Loose, slight label damage
Banjo-Kazooie $25 Loose, slight label damage
Rocket Robot on Wheels $60 Loose
Gamecube Games Price Condition
Pokemon XD: Gale of Darkness $160 Case and game, no manual
Fire Emblem Path of Radiance $210 Case and game, no manual, cover art is very beat up and faded
Zelda Collector's Edition $50 Loose
TMNT Mutant Melee $28 Case and game, no manual
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles $30 CIB
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2 $28 Case and game, no manual
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 3 Mutant Nightmare $45 CIB
Metroid Prime 2 Echoes $50 CIB
Metroid Prime $30 CIB
Mario Golf Toadstool Tour $28 CIB, barcode sticker placed on the back of the cover art (not the plastic shield), did not try to remove it myself
Mega Man X Collection $30 CIB
Sonic Adventure DX Director's Cut $20 Loose
Super Mario Strikers $45 Loose
Scooby Doo Night of 100 Frights $24 CIB
Army Men Air Combat Elite Missions $20 CIB, case has some damage
Wii Games Price Condition
Mario Party 8 $28 CIB
Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn $120 Case and game, cover art is very faded
Mario Strikers Charged $12 Case and game
submitted by You_Savvy to GameSale [link] [comments]

2023.05.26 21:36 Verrence Rat coming through drain vent.

We have a loft we’re planning on remodeling on the second floor. It has a bathroom we haven’t used in a long time and recently we’ve been hearing a little bit of thumping around and even a squeak or two.
I investigated and saw a rat tail disappearing into the toilet drain, out of the (long dry) bowl of the toilet. Further investigation led to finding a nest in an open drawer with droppings and shredded toilet paper. (I could find no other droppings or nests anywhere, luckily.)
I blocked the drain of the toilet with some wadded up rags and a 20lb dumbbell. It won’t be getting back it that way, I hope. But I don’t want the rat continuing to get in through other toilets, obviously.
Any advice on how best to drive it out of the drain stack, make sure it’s gone, and block the roof vent of the drain stack?
submitted by Verrence to exterminators [link] [comments]