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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

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Pluralistic: 13 Mar 2020 (The third Little Brother book, Where I write, stream global news, AT&T's CEO gets millions for his failures, Chelsea Manning freed, Katie Porter vs CDC, Trump's scientific nihilism, Covid-malware co-evolution, Siennese solidarity)

Today's links

Announcing the third Little Brother book, Attack Surface: And a new Little Brother/Homeland reissue, with an intro by Ed Snowden!

Where I Write: A column for the CBC that's really about how I write.

Stream 200+ global news channels: Each hand-picked, no registration required.

AT&T's CEO fired 23,000 workers and gave himself a 10% raise: Life on the easiest setting.

Chelsea Manning is free: But she's been fined $256K for refusing to testify to the Grand Jury.

Rep Katie Porter forces CDC boss to commit to free testing: Literally the most effective questioner in Congress.

Trump's unfitness in a plague: It's not because he's an ignoramus, it's because he's a nihilist.

Malware that hides behind a realtime Covid-19 map: Peter Watts' prophecy comes true.

Locked-down Siennese sing their city's hymn: A cause for hope in the dark.

This day in history: 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

Announcing the third Little Brother book, Attack Surface (permalink)

Attack Surface is the third Little Brother book, coming out next October.

It's told from the point of view of Masha, the young woman who is Marcus Yallow's frenemy who works first for the DHS and then for a private spook outfit. It's a book about how good people talk themselves into doing bad things, and how they redeem themselves. It ranges from Iraq to the color revolutions of the former USSR, to Oakland and the Movement for Black Lives.

The story turns on cutting-edge surveillance and counter-surveillance: self-driving cars, over-the-air baseband radio malware, IMSI catchers, CV dazzle and adversarial examples, binary transparency and warrant canaries.

This week, I did a wide-ranging and deep interview with Andrew Liptak for Polygon about the book, the Little Brother series, the techlash, the tech workers' uprising (and #TechWontBuildIt), and the future of technological self-determination.

We also revealed the cover for Attack Surface, which was designed by the incomparable Will Staehle (who is eligible for a Best Artist Hugo – nominations close today!).

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

Not only that, but Staehle has also designed a cover for a new omnibus edition of Little Brother and Homeland that comes out this July, and as you can see from that cover, the book has an all-new introduction by none other than Ed Snowden!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

(In 2017, Staehle also designed all-new covers for my adult backlist)

https://www.tor.com/2017/10/18/cory-doctorow-will-staehle-covers/

The Little Brother books are neither optimistic nor pessimistic about technology: instead, they are hopeful. Hope is the belief that you can materially improve your life if you take action. A belief in human agency and the power of self-determination.

The message of Little Brother is neither "Things will all be fine" nor "We are all doomed."

It's: "This will be so great…if we don't screw it up."

Where I Write (permalink)

I learned to be a writer while my life was in total chaos. Decades later, I have a beautiful office to work in, but I still do my best writing typing hurriedly on subway trains, in taxi-cabs, and airport lounges.

https://www.cbc.ca/arts/finding-comfort-in-the-chaos-how-cory-doctorow-learned-to-write-from-literally-anywhere-1.5489363

My CBC column on where I write is really a primer on how I write: what it takes to be able to write when you're sad, or anxious, or wracked with self-doubt.

Unquestionably the most important skill I've acquired as a writer.

"Even though there were days when the writing felt unbearably awful, and some when it felt like I was mainlining some kind of powdered genius and sweating it out through my fingertips, there was no relation between the way I felt about the words I was writing and their objective quality, assessed in the cold light of day at a safe distance from the day I wrote them. The biggest predictor of how I felt about my writing was how I felt about me. If I was stressed, underslept, insecure, sad, hungry or hungover, my writing felt terrible. If I was brimming over with joy, the writing felt brilliant."

Stream 200+ global news channels (permalink)

TV News is an Android app that pulls like Youtube streams from 200+ global news channels in 50 languages, each manually selected by the app's creator, Steven Clift, whose work I've previously admired.

http://tvnewsapp.com/

You can filter the feeds by country and language and watch them as floating windows that let you continue to use your device while you watch. No registration required, either.

They're shooting for 1000+ channels soon.

AT&T's CEO fired 23,000 workers and gave himself a 10% raise (permalink)

Randall Stephenson is CEO of AT&T. Ajit Pai killed Net Neutrality so that Stephenson could legally slow down the services we requested to extort bribes from us. Then, Trump gave his company a $20B tax cut.

https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/nepxeg/atandt-preps-for-new-layoffs-despite-billions-in-tax-breaks-and-regulatory-favors

Stephenson used that money to raise exec pay, buy back his company's stock to juice its price and to pay off debts from earlier, disastrous mergers. He cut 23,000 jobs and slashed capital spending (America has the worst broadband of any rich country).

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2019/05/att-promised-7000-new-jobs-to-get-tax-break-it-cut-23000-jobs-instead/

After all that, Stephenson congratulated himself on a job well done by giving himself a 10% raise in 2019, bringing his total compensation up to 32 million dollars.

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2020/03/att-ceo-pay-rose-to-32-million-in-2019-while-he-cut-20000-jobs/

I mean the guy earned it. He blew billions of dollars buying Warner and Directv, and then lost billions more on the failed aftermath. If that doesn't warrant a raise, what does?

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/10/att-loses-another-1-3-million-tv-customers-as-directv-freefall-continues/

Chelsea Manning is free (permalink)

A judge has ordered that Chelsea Manning be released from jail, a day after her latest suicide attempt. She was jailed last March for refusing to testify before a grand jury, held in solitary for two months, then jailed again a few days later, in May, She's been inside ever since.

The judge ordered her release because the Grand Jury had finished its work.

https://www.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.vaed.412520/gov.uscourts.vaed.412520.41.0.pdf

It's fantastic to that Manning got her freedom back, but she has been fined $256,000 for her noncompliance. I just donated to her fund:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-chelsea-pay-her-court-fines

(Image: Tim Travers Hawkins, CC BY-SA)

Rep Katie Porter forces CDC boss to commit to free testing (permalink)

I am a huge fan of Rep Katie Porter. Her outstanding questioning techniques and unwillingness to countenance bullshit from the people she questions are such a delight to watch.

Here she is demolishing billionaire finance criminal Jamie Dimon:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2WLuuCM6Ej0

Oh, Ben Carson, you never stood a chance:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVWy3q2kmNM

Steve Mnuchin always looks like a colossal asshole, but rarely this comprehensively:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78zpa0hQ1aw

I almost feel sorry for this Trumpkin from the Consumer Finance Protection Board as she faces Porter's withering fire.

Almost.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBaCc5VUHS8

Porter – an Elizabeth Warren protege – doesn't do this to grandstand. Like AOC, she uses her spectacular skills to elicit admissions and get them on the record, and to hold Congressional witnesses to account.

Today, Porter attained a new peak in a short, illustrious career. That's because today was the day she questioned CDC assistant secretary for preparedness and response Robert Kadlec, asking him to clarify Trump's televised lie last night that insurers would pay for Covid-19 testing.

https://twitter.com/RepKatiePorter/status/1238147835859779584

Porter doggedly held Kadlec to account, forcing him to acknowledge that the cost of a Covid-19 test – $1,331 – was so high that many would forego it, and then to admit that these Americans could go on to transmit the disease to others, making it a matter of public concern.

Then she forced CDC Director Robert Redfield to admit – as she had informed him in writing the week before – that the CDC had the authority to simply pay those fees, universally, for any American seeking testing, under 42 CFR 71.30:

https://www.govinfo.gov/content/pkg/CFR-2019-title42-vol1/xml/CFR-2019-title42-vol1-part71.xml#seqnum71.30

Having laid this factual record, Porter insisted that Redfield commit to using that authority. Not to consider it, study it, or consult on it. To use it to help save the country. Whenever Redfield waffled, she reclaimed her time and forced him back on point.

KP: Dr. Redfield, will you commit to the CDC, right now, using that existing authority to pay for diagnostic testing, free to every American, regardless of insurance?

RR: Well, I can say that we're going to do everything to make sure everybody can get the care they need –"

KP: Nope, not good enough. Yes or no?

RR: What I'm going to say is, I'm going to review it in detail with CDC and the department —

KP: No, reclaiming my time [repeats the question]

RR: What I was trying to say is that CDC is working with HHS now to see how we operationalize that

KP: Dr. Redfield, I hope that that answer weighs heavily on you, because it is going to weigh very heavily on me and on every American family

RR: Our intent is to make sure that every American family gets the care and treatment they need at this time in this major epidemic and I am currently working with HHS to see how to best operationalize it.

KP: Excellent! Everybody in America hear that — you are eligible to go get tested for coronavirus and have that covered, regardless of insurance

[Curtain]

Trump's unfitness in a plague (permalink)

In this editorial, Science editor-in-chief H Holden Thorp makes a compelling case that Trump is not capable of leading the American response to Covid-19.

https://science.sciencemag.org/content/367/6483/1169

Trump has spent years denigrating and ignoring science before taking office, and it's only gotten worse, since.

As Thorp writes, "You can't insult science when you don't like it and then suddenly insist on something that science can't give on demand."

His policy track-record is even worse: "deep cuts to science, including cuts to funding for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the NIH…nearly 4 years of harming and ignoring science."

This reminds me of an argument I often have with digital rights activists who attribute bad technology policy to the inability of clueless lawmakers to understand the technical nuance. I think that's wrong. The fact that we're not all dead of cholera, even though there are no microbiologists in Congress proves that you don't need to be a domain expert to make good policy.

Good policy comes from truth-seeking exercises in which experts with different views present their best evidence to neutral adjudicators who make determinations in public, showing their work in explicit, written, public reasoning. These processes are made legitimate – and hence robust and reliable – by procedural rules. The adjudicators – regulators, staffers, etc – are not allowed to have conflicts of interest. Their conclusions are subject to the rule of law, with mandatory transparency and a process for appeal.

It has to be this way: there's no way that – say – a president could be an expert on all the different issues that might arise during their tenure.

This, then, is the problem with inequality and market concentration: it merges the referees with the players. When an industry only has a handful of players, they all end up with common lobbying positions – a common position on what is truth. That's because the C-suites of these five companies are filled with people who've worked at two, three or four of the competitors, and are married to others who've worked at the remainder. They're godparents to one anothers' kids, executors of each others' wills.

There's no way for there NOT to be collusion in these circumstances.

And when an industry is that concentrated, the only people who understand it well enough are those same execs, so inevitably the regulators are drawn from the industry.

That's why Obama's "good" FCC Chair, Tom Wheeler, was a former Comcast lobbyist, and why Ajit Pai, Trump's "bad" FCC chair, is a former Verizon lawyer. Apart from Susan Crawford, there's not really anyone who's not from the top ranks of Big Telco qualified to regulate them.

So many of us saw the photo of Trump meeting with all the tech leaders and were dismayed that they were throwing their lot in with him.

But we should also be aghast that all the leaders of the industry fit around one modest board-room table.

https://techcrunch.com/2016/12/14/donald-trump-meets-with-tech-leaders/

The problem with Trump's Covid-19 response is that he does not believe in a legitimate process with neutral referees. The refereeship, in trumpland, is an open-field auction, a transactional process that works best when it enriches Trump and his party.

The problem of Trump taking charge of the epidemiological crisis of Covid-19 isn't that he doesn't understand science: it's that he doesn't believe in evidence-based policy.

He is part of the cult of "Public Choice Theory," the belief that there is no one who can serve as referee without eventually colluding with the players for their mutual enrichment, a cynical, nihilistic philosophy that holds that there's no point in seeking to govern well. These people project their own moral vacuum onto all of humanity, a kind of cartoon Homo Economicus who is incapable of anything except maximizing personal utility.

For these people, the existence of bridges that don't fall down and water that doesn't give you cholera are lucky accidents, not results of sound policy and careful truth-seeking. They reason that since they would take bribes to poison the water of Flint, so would everyone.

Trump isn't just a non-expert, he's an ignoranamus, but that's not the problem. The problem is that he is a nihilist, someone who doesn't believe that truth-seeking is even possible.

Malware that hides behind a realtime Covid-19 map (permalink)

Hackers have developed a malware-as-a-service that packages up realtime Covid-19 maps with malware droppers that infect people who load them.

https://krebsonsecurity.com/2020/03/live-coronavirus-map-used-to-spread-malware/

This reminds me intensely of Peter Watts's 2002 novel Maelstrom, in which Watts uses his background as an evolutionary biologist to posit an eerily plausible and devilishly clever way that a digital and a human virus could co-evolve.

https://rifters.com/real/MAELSTROM.htm

This has stuck with me! In May 2018, I wrote about it in Locus Magazine:

http://locusmag.com/2018/05/cory-doctorow-the-engagement-maximization-presidency/

Maelstrom is concerned with a pandemic that is started by its protagonist, Lenie Clark, who returns from a deep ocean rift bearing an ancient, devastating pathogen that burns its way through the human race, felling people by the millions.

As Clark walks across the world on a mission of her own, her presence in a message or news story becomes a signal of the utmost urgency. The filters are firewalls that give priority to some packets and suppress others as potentially malicious are programmed to give highest priority to any news that might pertain to Lenie Clark, as the authorities try to stop her from bringing death wherever she goes.

Here's where Watt's evolutionary biology shines: he posits a piece of self-modifying malicious software – something that really exists in the world today – that automatically generates variations on its tactics to find computers to run on and reproduce itself. The more computers it colonizes, the more strategies it can try and the more computational power it can devote to analyzing these experiments and directing its randomwalk through the space of all possible messages to find the strategies that penetrate more firewalls and give it more computational power to devote to its task.

Through the kind of blind evolution that produces predator-fooling false eyes on the tails of tropical fish, the virus begins to pretend that it is Lenie Clark, sending messages of increasing convincingness as it learns to impersonate patient zero. The better it gets at this, the more welcoming it finds the firewalls and the more computers it infects.

At the same time, the actual pathogen that Lenie Clark brought up from the deeps is finding more and more hospitable hosts to reproduce in: thanks to the computer virus, which is directing public health authorities to take countermeasures in all the wrong places. The more effective the computer virus is at neutralizing public health authorities, the more the biological virus spreads. The more the biological virus spreads, the more anxious the public health authorities become for news of its progress, and the more computers there are trying to suck in any intelligence that seems to emanate from Lenie Clark, supercharging the computer virus.

Together, this computer virus and biological virus co-evolve, symbiotes who cooperate without ever intending to, like the predator that kills the prey that feeds the scavenging pathogen that weakens other prey to make it easier for predators to catch them.

Locked-down Siennese sing their city's hymn (permalink)

In times of crisis, we typically pull together, but elite panic's pervasive mythology holds that these moments are when the poors reveal their inner beast and attack their social betters. That libel on humanity is disproved regularly by our everyday experience. As common as these incidents of solidarity are, they still warrant our notice.

The Song of the Verbena is the hymn of the Italian city of Sienna, currently on lockdown.

https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canto_della_Verbena

This video of Siennese people singing their hymn from the windows of their houses, into their empty street, is one of the most beautiful, hopeful things I've seen this week.

Truly, it is a tonic.

https://twitter.com/valemercurii/status/1238234518508777473

This day in history (permalink)

#5yrsago NYPD caught wikiwashing Wikipedia entries on police brutality https://web.archive.org/web/20150313150951/http://www.capitalnewyork.com/article/city-hall/2015/03/8563947/edits-wikipedia-pages-bell-garner-diallo-traced-1-police-plaza

#1yrago Gimlet staff announce unionization plan following Spotify acquisition https://www.theverge.com/2019/3/13/18263957/gimlet-media-union-spotify-recognition-podcasts

#1yrago With days to go until the #CopyrightDirective vote, #Article13's father admits it requires filters and says he's OK with killing Youtube https://www.golem.de/news/uploadfilter-voss-stellt-existenz-von-youtube-infrage-1903-139992.html

#1yrago Spotify's antitrust complaint against Apple is a neat parable about Big Tech's monopoly https://www.wired.com/story/spotify-apple-complaint-warren-antitrust-issue/

#1yrago A critical flaw in Switzerland's e-voting system is a microcosm of everything wrong with e-voting, security practice, and auditing firms https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/zmakk3/researchers-find-critical-backdoor-in-swiss-online-voting-system

#1yrago McMansion Hell tours the homes of the "meritocratic" one-percenters who allegedly bought their thickwitted kids' way into top universities in the college admissions scandal https://mcmansionhell.com/post/183417051691/in-honor-of-the-college-admissions-scandal

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Empty Wheel (https://www.emptywheel.net/), CNN (https://cnn.com), Memex 1.1 (https://memex.naughtons.org/), Slashdot (https://slashdot.org).

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Currently writing: I've just finished rewrites on a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I've also just completed "Baby Twitter," a piece of design fiction also set in The Lost Cause's prehistory, for a British think-tank. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel next.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: A Lever Without a Fulcrum Is Just a Stick https://archive.org/download/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_330_-_A_Lever_Without_a_Fulcrum_Is_Just_a_Stick.mp3

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020. https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a new introduction by Edward Snowden: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250774583

#pluralistic

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dahmer · 6 years

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oh pi! at es. ples. ples.

Oh! just, subtle, and mighty opium! that to the hearts of poor and rich alike, for the wounds that will never heal, and for 'the pangs that tempt the spirit to rebel,' bringest an assuaging balm; eloquent opium! that with thy potent rhetoric stealest away the purposes of wrath; and to the guilty man, for one night givest back the hopes of his youth, and hands washed pure of blood.... qtd // thomas de Quincey // Confessions of an English Opium Eater

here’s a man, once ill-tempered of turks and trendsetting vices, speaking to the grand stage of the world fashioned in this season’s epide-mock. a warm, fuzzy coatish wear nestled in the covers. small american towns know these styles too well to count body bags, along cotton pads and china scabs, among mother’s basements and luxury high risers graduating all from the fancy-feels certificate of blues. those roxy pebbles, how they start us so--an endless invitation to long summer warmth that childhood bathtubs and lawn-mower sundays would once bring.

when did the foil side decision set in. was there truly a technique to not waste the evaporated smoke, or just somedaze endless-ego-talk of the mighty soldiers in the opium army of guilt. shame, yes sir! solute to toot, scrap the straw edges as the hours pass waiting for the guy with the goods. were you in california when fent came along, past the liquid patch of time-released days. the recents 16s, 17s, two thousands eighteens. labs grade, synthesizing variations to parade as china. “east coast man, east coast shit. it’s the best ever. no, nah nah bro, i got you. bud took one point, was on his ass for hours. nod on fire.”

did chemists know the china rhetoric will turn fent-for-all. markets of east coast fantasies, oblivious to west coast privileges. of potency. of people. of starry nights in smashing pumpkin music video dreams, riding through hollywood as a secret member of the powder variety. it’s a plague paraded as a epidemic because that word has no world of meaning to the good folk playing their igno-rent; recycling stigmas of junky choice rattling thrillists. despite the proof inside the bottles. the truth in every bottle. in every cabinet. of every person. with every doctor. who ever felt. the normalcy sensation of one of the most blanked words: pain.

pain is surely what that just, subtle, and mighty opium! creates in the hearts of the poor and rich alike. the rich die often in the experimentation state of emergency someone labeled as ‘the opioid problem’--problem? oh lily, you know as much as your wilted leaves and neighboring trees the silly stamp we slap when using ‘problem’ to critically deconstruct something magnificently complex.this ‘problem’ has destroyed empires for centuries. it’s notorious and makes no attempt to conceal its power in narrative recollections of the living authors that have spoke the truths of humanity across language, land, and lives. yet big pharma pulled off opana and roxicodone in the last 20 years. if there’s any declaration of the fools ruling the castle in modern times, this must be the great exemplary act. the profit of pain, oh yawn. i’m sure the academic discourse that has capture this best is brilliant it construction and nature, but what difference does it make in an opiated masses?

i’ve not canceled my subscriptions to the periodical dual tragedies of the early 21st century, as they remain unchanged and unchallenged: (1) a sheer lack of empathy in the common man; (2) the curious and devastating complacency and lack of outrage to what seems to unfold before our eyes, rapidly and carelessly so now that it’s almost as if those navigating the unseen lines of powers that be mock us, appropriately so. if we’re no opiated, we’re not outrage or active either. generalization? yes. but for those who fall outside of this, fight causes that continually reveal themselves as premeditated chess pieces in the political playing field that has seep into dominating the social sphere that delivers use a constantly-running facet of media and targeted, privatized ads.

i am an addict.

i can clean. M knows. some family knows. the weight that has been lifted is ineffably enduring. i’m frustrated, naturally, at the golden years missed. the creativity, the goodness of my heart, kindness of soul, charity, intellectual ability, sincerity, and passionate interests. how they dulled and disappeared. the weight of their reappearance should be the least of my worries, and for now have been. i’m only a week into my methadone treatment program. but my partner knows now. and that was the missing link, that was needed for so long. he left. i stay in the apartment alone. had the worst week. four days into starting treatment, i get arrested on a fix-it ticket that never was completely closed in a difference country because the DMV didn’t inform the courthouse I’ve squared everything away. I was given a new court date to bring this documentation in myself after final payments were made and the matter seemed settled. but the letter was sent to my old apartment, so i was completely unaware a warrant in los angeles was issued. a few short blocks away from my new apartment in newport beach, where M returned for the first time since walking in on me and learning of the addiction that exposure so much (that was the most bittersweet, hard, important, thankful, and devastating night of my life--but revitalizing. I never realize how much everything rested on just M being told or finding out.). I’m almost home, about to see it, sirens go on. get pulled over. second car arrives. i’m in cuffs. call my works, and text M to say I wouldn’t be coming home to give him space.

at this point, i was told i would be transferred to LA that night, and see a judge in the morning. have everything taken care of. but orange county SA jail is notorious for lies and abuse. there was no intentions of this, and i went from holding cell to orange jumpsuit soon enough. smart this time, i disclosed my sexuality. was given a special block, with an actual two-person jail cell. like the movies. my cell mate was great. jason ciega. curious sexuality. talked heavily about girlfriends, but made subtle jokes that went: “when you’re expecting pussy, but life gives ya dick... but hey, there’s nothing wrong with that too.” He vaguely mentioned his sexuality was “whatever”--I respected and explained why I identify as queer. i have some hidden white china fent mix left i snuck in, even after the cavity search. I stressed needing the bathroom for diarrhea, in fear of the 4-6 gram rocks being found. they kept stressing if i had drugs, it would be another charge. but with my profession work title, they didn’t really consider that with me. i hated that i had to use again so early in treatment, but this avoided the sickness. and made me sleep through the day and a half before M bailed me out. when i got celled up with jason, he shared his rations he bought, like cookies and stuff. i shared my china, in very small doses. he still O.D.’d. turned blue and purple, unconscious, eyes behind head. he took off his shirt after sniffing the first baby bit. i snorted probably 30x what he did, and barely felt something, tolerance. his speck had him worried after 5 mins. “I don’t feel it”

I tell him it wait another 5-10 mins at least. he starts ripping up my mattress and sheet to make a pillow and bedsheet. at first i’m scared this would cause the jail keeper to punish or abuse me. i saw it happened. beds are supposed to be returned in the form they were given. but the special blocks for “protective custody” and queers were treated with more respect, out of fear I assume. The regular jail area is a massive shared space with dozens of rows of beds, and people organized and grouped by race and gangs that you must join right away. I was glad I didn’t have to endure that. I did briefly at 19 for an alcohol in public ticket. only spent 4-6 hours in actual jail-orange-suits area after 10-15 hours of hold cells then. realized how racially divided even jails were. but this experience was more pleasant, given the circumstances. before jason began nodding out, he was fun and talkative in an enjoyable well. he revealed a great chest and body--small frame, but bulky build with tattoos. an insecure boy turn nice guy that acts like one of the guys. referenced odd jokes that seemed code for him being a bottom, and wanting sexual companionship if we ended up bunking for awhile. mutual only, of course. i laughed these attempts off. jason was lonely, and i wasn’t there for inmate sex. i’m in love with M, and still spent every moment worrying and texting about him, and what i’ve done to him. how little he knows about this addiction, how much his family might enable him to think narrowly or ignorantly about the realities of this as a disease.

M abandoned me the day I began treated, 2 mornings after he caught me and everything in our lives froze. we sat on the bed that night, side by side, for hours. him crying in his hands mostly, for hours. me frozen in a wave of emotions. i was a fault. i was honest and told him everything. this was the only thing i kept from him, and told him why. the shame, the guilt. the fear. losing him. rejection of me, disposal of my efforts and love from him and his family. he said we needed time apart. i begged him to be there for me, no matter what the outcome was of our relationship, at least in the beginning. knowing this is the most crucial time to have a support system. he expressed things like believing I’ve just been high this whole time, and asked questions that extracted as much shame and guilt as possible. he had every right to. it’s all i’ve see him and his twin ever do. to the point of their older brother needing serious psychological helping, crying out literally shouting how suicidal he is, but they fail to understand how mental health works, how humor and jokes are masks that should be taken seriously. M was hurt most that I lied. I did lie. Not directly, but did lie at times when he asked why i was in the bathroom for so long. It was unspoken, so it didn’t feel like lying. More like protecting, but it was lying. And I will forever be in the wrong.

Going to jail may have ruined any chance of him coming back. And I can’t stand that thought. He doesn’t know what I’ve been going through. How long it took to be honest about my addiction, what steps I took to try to get clean on my own, the lies you convince yourself off--that you can do it alone, that it’ll work out, that you’ll run out of money so you’ll have to stop. My only other treatment attempt told me I must tell M. He’s the closest to me that I love and trust, who is a good influence, not a user, and could be my support system that sees me through this, and can monitor me during the first 3-7 days that are most crucial. M mentioned how he could have come home to find me dead. O.D. we watched docs and podcasts on the epidemic, but they don’t go into how hard this experience is. How withdrawal is considered one of the hardest things a human can possible do in life, and takes incredible amounts of courage, strength, and dedication that M will probably never even experience in his life. The reports just assume people know this stuff. And under-represent who is most likely to O.D. I’ve never come close. I haven’t been high in, years. I used to stay normal. M, and others like him--those who don’t know--don’t understand that. I was never chasing the dragon. I hate the addiction, quickly. I was too smart for it. Too focused and dedicated to have this problem.

But I did, and unless I dose a certain amount, I couldn’t function. Bedridden in the worst sickness imaginable. To those who’ve experience withdrawal, it’s not just the constant, non-stop, extreme physical sickness. It’s the relentless psychological sickness. Torture. That doesn’t even given you a 30 second break. Hearing that your sick for 3-5 days might sound easy because we call it “getting sick” or “dope sick”--but it’s a far worse experience that can even be fatal for some. My finances and lack of wanting to be doped out, nodding and unproductive all day luckily allowed my addiction to plateau at taking a certain amount to stay well, and doing that everyday for over a year. Til I was caught. It would slightly increase, but fluctuate, based on product, potency, and source going around. I never shot. Only snorted, that was my ritual. And when I was stupid, I would smoke. It was a waste, that burned through product much faster. Which meant more money and time dedicated to staying well. The consistent tolerance and dosing makes my chances of O.D’ing incredibly low. If M knew me as an addiction, which he couldn’t--I never disclosed--he’d know this was hell. Torture. Something I spent endless nights up all night wishing, hoping, begging for change.

The fright came from the Friday I got into a detox treatment program. I told him two nights before I needed him for supported. He made a sly remark about “what, you’re going to force me to stay around or you’ll OD and die if I don’t”--but it was among other things, so it was unclear what would happened. And days past, with little words exchanged, but M stayed around. When he returned from work, I was in bed and he has if I stayed treatment. I said yes, but didn’t explain or speak confidently out of fear of him not knowing what these treatments were, how much research I’ve done, how I picked this on purpose with a goal to get off treatment drugs soon too and never be dependent on a substance. He didn’t ask much questions. He shortly said it’s good, then revealed he’s packing up and staying at this parents for the weekend. I froze in silence. He packed and said some of the same narrowed perspective claims from the other night--how my sibling and her spouse are there to help me. M thinks because they’ve both been in AA, and one is an ex-heroin addict in healthy, long-term recovery that they can just drop their full time college, 3 jobs, and toddler to take care of me. They’re wonderful support systems, but the detox clinic described who needs to be around the first 3 days for my outpatient detox, and it perfectly defined M.

But I must respect M’s decisions, feelings, angry, and pain. He has his own healing to do. All I said was that I need support more now than ever, so please don’t forget me. This was in response to him saying I could always call him if I needed something--which was worded in a way that read like ‘call in emergencies, but I’m out.’ So I went through it alone, all 3 days. In bed. I called a friend for xanax, even though you have to be very very careful taking both. I was, and needed to sleep if no one would be there to check on me. At this time, I thought either M felt his hurt and pain outweighed what I was going through, and that’s understandable regardless of my experience actually being a life-threatening disorder. What I wish he knew was that most people who O.D.--the ones on the news all the time. It’s most from relapse. Stopping, detoxing, getting clean. Then a trigger happens, or hope gives up, opportunity comes, or you feel alone and no one cares. Whatever the reason, you return to the drug and take a similar dose, or even smaller dose, than what you were doing before. But your tolerance fades as quickly as it builds, and is different for everything. So most O.D. deaths are simply from people relapsing and taking too much without knowing where their new tolerance stands. Any temptation or relapse could be my last breathe.

I still live in that fear, but I’m motivated and happy to finally get clean. It’s all I wanted, I just couldn’t do it alone. And knew this. The summer realized it most. I spent the summer trying to find the right time and opportunity to tell M. He has no idea how many plans and times and moments I wanted to. Even my trip to NYC. I wanted t come back clean so bad. It doesn’t work that way, You need those in your life who support and love you to help. That’s what a relationship is. It’s like if I was diagnosed with cancer. But social misconception and outdated conception allows this opposite, toxic reaction. Where now I exist in this constant mental cycle that centers on figuring out what to do for M. It would hurt my sister, so that would be my biggest regret, but I think M wants a gift from me more than anything; however, knowing him well, he’d never ask. If I just gave it to him, he’d be free. No more doubts or embarrassments or beating himself up about not knowing or what others would think. No more hating and shaming me. He wouldn’t ever have to deal with it, which is what I realize he wants in life. Where we disagree. I can’t play video games and ignore maintaining healthy efforts all day. He’s made great improvements, but blind to others that allowed him to say hurtful things like without even consciousness of it, but would be shocked and hurt if someone said the same back to him. This created a state where if anything that required him to get up from playing video games in his ‘free time’ (non work hours) is a drag that he resents or avoids at all costs. It cost the friendships built between my closest friends, who love him and he claimed to love them. This constant thread was something I battled with most. I would count the weekends I would spend doing whatever he wanted--hanging with siblings, friends, work functions, friends parties. 11 weekends go by, then one movie night with my friends and he wouldn’t even pretend to want to go. It hurt, but I learned other people’s needs are an annoyance or deterrent to his rightful ability to be glued to the computer. I know this was a big factor in never bringing up my addiction. Already he hated any serious conversations, even if I tried to make them positive about reaching goals. Even mentioning one would cause eye rolls and audible disgusts, vocalizing how he just doesn’t like them or “aren’t good at them”--which never made sense to me. I understand he didn’t like to have conversations that implied he’s less than perfect or right, but it creates this wall around you where no one will ever be able to grow or talk or really improvement your or our lives together. I didn’t think much of it. But now that I’m learning my triggers, I’m not blaming M. It will always be me. But I regret starting to pick up his habits in attempts to try and connect more with him, and be closer. I started playing video games more and more, and all my interests disappeared. There was never a time I played video games that didn’t require going to the bathroom and dosing. I couldn’t live that life. But I wanted to build a life with M. When he stopped talking an interests in sharing my activities, I doubled down with his. But things that felt non-productive and antisocial to me became triggers.

There are other issues that caused distance and perhaps his lack of interest or investment in my friends and desires. One, my addiction. Where my interests began to dull. A terrible cycle that grows like a fungus, and can stem from one activity to get closer, but affect another. Also, I gained a considerable amount of weight. This was before my addiction started, but at a time that M became less physical. Then associated it with my weight gain. This was always curious. All compliments, words of encouragement, positive reinforcement, or sexual intimacy ceased, yet I was expected to work harder on health. I should have, but I never went a period of my sexual life where exercise and health were part of my routine because it continued my ability to have a sexual life. In a serious relationship, taking this element away makes it hard to understand how or if anything would restore such intimacy sense there’s no expression, communication, or honesty from M. Just gestures and small hints. He experienced some weight gained, and when he finally got a job after college--after 8 months of playing video games all day as I worked 2-3 jobs 6 days a week plus went to the gym, cleaned the house, and made dinner most nights for him and our roommate--he took up the gym and has done a great job focusing on getting in shape. I expressed this once, and it was something that was some important and meaningful because it consumed by consciousness, but I still wonder a year later if he understood or truly took to heart pointing out that when he got a full time, professional job and began working out after work, he came home daily needing positive reinforcement, acknowledgement, and encouragement about his gym efforts. Even in the early stages when not much can be seen.

I expressed that before grad school, when I really gained the weight from the stress and demands, I too signed up for the gym after my first, full time professional job after college. On top of this, I continued working on Sundays at a restaurant doing back-breaking labor I underplayed because tips were good. My one day off--Saturdays--I spent putting our first apartment together, shopping, planning, going to every family event or friend invite he extended, while keeping up with cooking and cleaning. During this time, M never acknowledged my gym efforts, progress, or work. I think once he complimented me in a tank, but apart from that, I believe he saw that this was just my role. Expected and easy, like it was nothing to essentially try my best to be the best version of myself, be the best boyfriend I could be, build a relationship together, and not ask for anything in return. This felt like my nature, so I didn’t think much of it at the time.

It wasn’t until I started grad school, and he began what I had already gone through: entry level at first professional job. I don’t know why I’m writing about it now, but it hurt he was doing it in a way that made it seem I had no idea what this was like because of my current shape, and my support was expected, not appreciated. M has never been too expressive, but any acknowledgement or encouragement while attending Gold’s gym after work each day in DTLB would have done so much for my self-esteem, our intimacy, his care and support, or just mutual respect I guess when the tables turned later. I still continue to compliment and support. But the thought is always there. What is it about me and what I do, the effort I put in, that seems just expected. Demanded. Not a privilege or sign of care, affection, and love. But “do your damn job”--but then anyone who does the same or a fraction of the same things has the right to guilt or shame me in not being supportive or caring enough. Why do I just exist to replace the role of M’s parents, perhaps, but my efforts aren’t even acknowledged to the same degree in how M views what his parents do.

The shortcomings are what he’s most expressive about. Like I have a savings account like him, and just not paying for things I literally cannot. I didn’t have my parents pay for college, a car, half my rent, bills, and little things in life M takes for granted. I pay for everything. And even having one or two things taken care of by parents allow young adults to live remarkably more comfortable lives that they’re blind to. They don’t understand the luxury of saving every paycheck because their parents pay for everything else. Or maybe it’s me, and my fault for having interests, and occasionally spending money on exploring interests to acculturate my life. Understanding myself, people, and culture better. Be a strong global citizen,

I don’t know. A lot of these claims are unfair to M. He avoids serious conversations, but most of this has come up. It’s just been treated with silence. When he caught my addiction last week, he kept repeating how hurt he was that I lied about it. He’s right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling... when would I ever been able to tell you and you wouldn’t act this way? Was there a time limit when you would have been supportive? Where you would have stayed and ensured I didn’t die during the most crucial period? Would there ever been a time that you didn’t just dismiss it as all my fault, so shame and guilt are the only things I’ll get from him while I need to seek treatment options on my own. That’s not how treatment works. In everything I’ve read, it says the same thing. This is a family problem. You need support. Loved ones. Care. Compassionate. Understanding. If these were never things that would have been offered, why is the main drive of pain from me lying? I did lie, so that’s valid. But it hurts because I don’t know how he truly feels, and sometimes it just goes through my head that this is the reason he’s been waiting for. I haven’t lied or cheated or hid other things. I’ve talked to other guys online, but came clean when caught. And that did hurt trust between us. But I never lied or hid something when we talked about it.

I write all of this because last night he texted me asking to meeting up this weekend to talk. I get excited because it means, after a week, maybe he wants to just sit and ask questions or express anger or frustrations or what’s on his mind. I send him my availability all weekend, with details. He takes hours to respond, but around 2am he says he’s free Saturday and Sunday. This is Friday night, and I see he’s at someone’s house--probably a party--that I didn’t know of. So maybe he’s drunk, but oddly he responded to my availability with just saying he’s free Sat and Sun--not setting a day or time to meet and talk. I don’t respond. It’s late and he says he’s out with friends since I mentioned I was even free that night back when I responded at 9pm when he first asked if I was free to meet and talk this weekend.

Today the morning goes by and I don’t hear from him, but he sent the last text. S at Noon I ask: “do you want me to pick a date and time then?” No answer.

A couple hours later I tell him I’m going to the gym later, and an NA meeting the next day (Sunday) if he wants to join me at either of those for an alternative meet up option--hopefully implying if he doesn’t want to just chat face-to-face, we can do something healthy that shows him I’m working hard in recovery. No response.

Both texts show read receipts. He read that right away, and Find My Friends shows he’s still just at his parents house. Been there all day, but ignoring my texts. Perhaps he was drunk when he texted me Friday night saying he wanted to meet up. I ran with it too quickly then because I miss him like crazy, worry about it, and just think about him and this situation constantly. Plus he bailed me out of jail for $5K of his own money this week on top of all of this, and that’s the last I saw him.

As the day progresses, it starts to dawn on me. Most of his stuff is still at our apartment. We still live here in how it’s set up, and how he’s briefly used it this week. But he’s mostly stayed at his parents, which is understandable since he needs time to figure out how to make sense of this or what to think... which is how I believe he worded it when he left the day I started detox. I think he said “because he feels conflicted.”

But if his stuff is still here, and he knows my schedule, and I know his, he knows we’re both mostly free Saturdays and Sundays. So he could come home either day and sit down to talk when he sees I’m home, Granted, he hasn’t asked about how recovery or detox is going, or shown interest in caring about how I’m doing. He’s not there, and clearly I’m in a state where I agree in the sense that I worry about him most. He doesn’t express his feelings, and this is not something he can just avoid or pretend to go away. He needs to face it. But then I realize what “we need to meet up and talk” means in a relationship after a major issue happens, and one person moves out for a week, leaving the status open-ended, stating we need time apart, and then gets stuck paying $5k while trying to distance (on top of all the money I own him for rent and impound fees last summer). This talk usually means one thing, and I start to panic. Even more so because he’s dodging my texts to follow up about setting a meeting time and date. If M had the liquid courage to ask, but not is faced with following through sober, it would be like him to just ignore me. And he’s definitely ignoring me. Maybe because he just wants me to suffer or leave him alone. But my fear and anxiety has skyrocketed since last night. I’m consumed in fear with the idea that he’s wanting to meet up to end our relationship. I would understand why, but I realize, despite everything, I really really am in love with Michael. My addiction made me not a great boyfriend to look at or be around I’m sure, but I’m confident the person I’m returning to now that I’m free and in recovery is someone that he would benefit from growing with. Many also have expressed they think this process will help M in the long run too, as things became static and this may needed to happen to reevaluate things and take us to the new heights we wanted and deserve.

M would have a hard time standing up for himself and dumping me, so when I was asking him if I should set the date and time, I starting thinking.. am I actually having to plan getting dumped for him? That’s not fair. This is the most emotional fragile state I’ve ever been in, and although he has every right to make that decision, and reasons to back it up, and not care about actually exercising real support that couples give each other, that’s fine. I would have to just respect the decision. I fucked up. And I knew who M was before we started dating. I just always think.. is he going to find someone else who doesn’t care about wanting basic needs and emotions and thoughts exchanged, shared, and supporting in a relationship? Abandon me, but that wouldn’t make these issues go away. Anyways, no one around him can offer me insight to his state of mind. So I fear the most devastating and hurtful decision and experience of my life is around the corner. Maybe even tomorrow. And despite our lease tomorrow until April, and the life we built together, M may just walk away from it all. Claiming he can’t trust me anymore as the main reason. And that trust is solely from hiding my addiction. Something I see now, given his reaction, why I did.

Jonathon Van Ness, in a recent podcast “Getting Curious” with an addiction specialist at UCLA discusses shame in addiction, and defines it as this idea where “if you knew this one thing about me, you wouldn’t love me anymore.” This definition makes a lot of sense, as to why I could never tell M. If he knew, I would lose his love. And his love was holding me together, and giving me hope that someday I can fix this, overcome this, get help, get better, get fit, be the best version of myself again and beyond.

But now I just wait by my phone, wondering if I should send a 3rd text. The last one was around 3pm, when my day was freeing up for the rest of the weekend. So he could have arranged to meet at any time. Maybe inviting him to the gym or a meeting was too off-putting--like i WANTED that or something. But I just want to give options since just asking for a basic plan yielded no results. I don’t know if I should leave him alone. If he needs more time. If I push, I push him farther away. Or if ignoring makes me feel insecure and think I don’t care or think about him. That I just think about using again or getting clean, and he’s not longer important. This is farthest from the truth. All I want is to not fall asleep alone in bed anymore. I want M back by my side, cuddling me and us to sleep. But even then, I fear or believe that M doesn’t feel he can do that and feel safe or comfortable anymore, even though I think he wants this again too. But the trust that’s missing is something that will come in time. Through my actions. Through my recovery. And if only he were here to hold me, he would understand that my recovery means everything. Not for him, for me. But I am his, so a better me is a better him. I just want him to know he’s loved and cared for. I don’t want him to feel alone, upset, and sad. I want him to ask questions, even yell, shame, guilt. Do what he needs to do. Isolating himself alone in his room at his parents house is not going to help him heal, with or without me.

And for some reason, as I heal, I need to know who I affected most is healing. Because the truth is: I can’t stop thinking about killing myself since this happened. Not because I want to, but because I think it’s the one thing that would end his healing process, and make his life better. Even if it meant I would lose mine. So be it.

#opiates #opioid addiction #opiod epidemic

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kmp78 · 3 years

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Yep, If an an album & tour tanks the artist can’t pay back advances from record label or % for management team. They lose money…it is a business, after all. I suspect they told JL his American idea & PR approach was not a winner. He did it anyway, it failed & they dumped him after being linked to it.

That "America" concept was such an epid fail... 🤦🏼‍♀️

Has there ever been an album more desperately directed at 1 particular target group?!

I dare say no. 🙄

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atakportal · 6 years

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Microsoft Original Xbox Launch Edition Black Console Only

New Post has been published on https://idealz.cloud/2018/07/08/microsoft-original-xbox-launch-edition-black-console-only/

Microsoft Original Xbox Launch Edition Black Console Only

Item specifics

Condition: Used :

An item that has been used previously. The item may have some signs of cosmetic wear, but is fully operational and functions as intended. This item may be a floor model or store return that has been used. See the seller’s listing for full details and description of any imperfections. See all condition definitions– opens in a new window or tab

Seller Notes: “console only.”

Platform: Microsoft Xbox Color:

Black

Brand:

Microsoft

Hard Drive Capacity: 8GB Model:

Xbox

MPN:

X08-48873

Product Name: Xbox Region Code: NTSC-U/C(US/Canada) UPC:

0091001212820

Microsoft Original Xbox Launch Edition Black Console Only

Product Details

Product Description Combining the sleek black of the 8GB Microsoft Xbox console with the black-ops action of Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow, the Microsoft Xbox Espionage Pack is an excellent choice for fans of stealth gaming. The original edition of Microsoft’s game consoles, best known as the platform for Halo, the Xbox packed a number of powerful features into its striking case with front-loading disc tray and four controller ports (which can be accessorized for wireless controllers). Around the time of its release in 2001, the Xbox was noted for having the internal processing power of a PC, with a 733MHz Intel processor, 64MB of RAM, and a custom Nvidia graphics board called the NV2A. It was designed for compatibility with both standard type 4:3 TVs and HD-ready sets, offering 480p, 720p, and 1080i output signals in normal and widescreen aspect ratios. The Xbox also supports 5.1 Dolby Digital surround sound, along with 256 voice channels, for an immersive gameplay experience. The built-in 8GB hard drive is ample for saving games, while Xbox memory cards are also available to share data between consoles. The 8GB hard drive also goes a long way toward boosting load times and storing cache levels from games so the system is not entirely dependent on game disc information. The 8GB hard drive can also be used for data storage of other kinds, including music copied directly from CDs, making the Microsoft Xbox an all-round entertainment system and not just a gaming console. Bundled with the black Xbox console, Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow makes great use of the console’s features and functionality. In this espionage classic, which was better received on the Xbox than on any other console, players assume the role of Sam Fisher to search for information on and help tackle CIA-trained guerilla Indonesian militia leader Suhadi Sadono. Fans of the original Splinter Cell appreciated the return of many integral gameplay mechanics, with stealth and infiltration being a central focus. In Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow, players use the controller to dictate some of the tiniest movements of Sam Fisher, shifting his weight to prepare for specialist maneuvers, such as split jumping between walls or whistling to attract enemies. The game also benefits from new moves like spinning from the shadows to silently murder enemies, who have been given an AI overhaul to make them more intelligent and reactive than before. All of this translates into a more realistic and more challenging black-ops simulation. Several other improvements from the first game include static health kits, binoculars, better lighting, and alarms that can be set off during play without automatically failing the mission. Other new features in Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow include secondary weapon functions that can be equipped during missions, such as the laser sight. The game takes place across a varied range of exciting levels, including jungles, rooftops, and the outside of a moving train as well as several different countries, jetting between East Timor, France, Israel, Indonesia, and the United States. Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow was the first installment in the Splinter Cell video game franchise to feature a Microsoft Xbox Live multiplayer mode, which was based on the single player game, to position players as either SHADOWNET spies or ARGUS mercenaries. The game has an ESRB Teen rating. For fans of stealth games, the black Microsoft Xbox 8GB Espionage Pack with Tom Clancy’s Splinter Cell: Pandora Tomorrow is an excellent choice that features plenty of all-new content and gameplay improvements right out of the box. Product Identifiers Brand Microsoft Product Name Microsoft Xbox UPC 0805529811843, 091001212820, 805529317352 Product Line Microsoft Xbox eBay Product ID (ePID) 110684789 General Type Console Console Color Black Release Date 3/14/2002 Enclosure Material Plastic Device Input Support Game pad Video Color Output Color Localization English, French Edition Launch Edition Audio Sound Processor NVIDIA Xbox MCP Audio Output Support 5.1 Channel Surround, Stereo Power & Battery Power Source Types Power Supply – internal Dimensions Height 3.15 in. Weight 8.82 lb Width 11.81 in. Depth 7.09 in. Technical Details Processor Quantity 1 Ram Technology DDR Supported Media CD-ROM, DVD-ROM Resolutions 1920 x 1080 Video Outputs Component Video, Composite Video, RGB, S-Video Internet Connectivity Wired Ram Capacity 64MB Voltage AC 120 V ± 10% ( 60 Hz ), AC 200/240 V ± 10% ( 50/60 Hz ), AC 220 V ± 10% ( 50 Hz ) Region Code NTSC-U/C (US/Canada) CPU Intel Pentium III 733 MHz Graphic Operating Performance 116.5 MIPS Fill-Rate 4.8 Megapixels / Sec Features Input Features Trigger, vibration Country Region United States Hard Drive Hard Drive Capacity 8GB Hard Drive Cache 128 KB Advanced Transfer Cache

Price : 40.00 Ends on : 4 weeks View on eBay

#black #console #edition #launch #microsoft #original

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tomerasange · 5 years

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Chapter 10: Wyvern Tor

“Your punishment for the actions taken today will be significant and swift. You are hereby banned from the arena, and you will be expelled from the walls of this city.” “Damn your consequences! I am here for victory, and you have stolen it from me!” “We have rules you must abide by.” “I will have my justice and vengeance. I swear my life on this.”

As I awoke, the words of a memory reeling in my head, I could see my effects in the room sustained by the morning air. The night hung on my conscious person, and I arose to greet the day.

My hair was starting to fray and crosshatch from its standard curtain of poise, and my personal opinion was the sooner I could find a measure of peace, the sooner I could attend to my appearance once more. Somehow never to know peace in the traditional sense again, I heard a clatter and a boom from below my location. I could only guess to the reason, and I dressed and descended.

In the tavern’s main room, Urnig had awoken and in a fit of action was eyeing up a half-orc, who was acting in earnest. In a ceremonial beating of the chest, Urnig challenged the half-orc to a contest of might. They had locked arms in a test of strength, only for Urnig to find himself clocked upside the head and driven into the floor. Epide and Artemis sat off to the side with breakfast cheering on the scrum as Fardahr dug into his plate of humble meats. The barkeep was in a row over this impromptu melee, crying out, “Why must you have this dispute in my bar? Can’t this be held outside?”

In a moment of lucidity, I decided against involving myself with the hoi polloi, lest I suffer a deck against the cheek. I walked towards the front of the inn and tried to redirect the poor barkeep’s attention with a nonemotional response. “Just allow them to have this moment, darling. Now, onto breakfast. I think a coffee and... perhaps a light serving of bread.”

The barkeep only shook his head in disbelief, and turned to his work. As I proceeded to survey the ongoing fight, Urnig went for another attack. The half-orc blocked heartily again, and ended it with a punctuated blow. Both Epide and Artemis were stunned that Urnig, the mountainous sorcerer whose violence met no quarter, was fell by this newcomer. I walked over, silver tongue at the ready, to engage with our guest.

“My, my. Quite the showing, there. Absolutely powerful. The name is Tomera Sange. And what might your name be?” “Rokk” “Pleasure to meet you, kind sir. I must ask, however... why did you choose to fight our friend?” “Challenged me” “I see, I see. I must ask, out of sheer curiosity, what your purpose is in Phandalin.” “Lord’s Alliance sent me. I’m your backup.”

A chill and sudden flattening of mood swept though me in a perhaps comedic sense. While I did find another ally in our party perfectly acceptable, to think the Alliance was growing tired of our supposed lack of results. Perhaps they were worried that Glasstaff’s betrayal might occur once more. Perhaps they were still concerned about the safety of Gundren, whose location still evaded us. Perhaps Sildar had been so concerned with other incidents that his report read in listed form cut down to only needed details, like the events of a warfront, and failed to acknowledge we might have no need for backup.

I kept a diplomatic face. “Ah, yes. The Lord’s Alliance! Wonderful, darling. As a representative, I will see fit that you are acquainted well into our group.”

Rokk only nodded in curt acknowledgement and sat down with Artemis and Epide. Urnig, still reeling from the fight, stood up and dusted himself off, content with the results. At this time, Aurora joined us downstairs. With the group rejoined, we greeted our newest company member:

ROKK, the Half-Orc Fighter. He wielded a wooden club with a measure of unbridled confidence, and possessed a fighting style quite unlike mine. A brutish and physically taxing art, he seemed more adept at taking blows than most of my compatriots, let alone my own frame. While we were deciding towards our day’s itinerary, Artemis took a vested interest in talking with him, wanting to know of his exploits.

We sought out the decision for our next exploit. Given we weren’t any closer to discovering the location of Wave Echo Cave, and a travel towards Thundertree seemed like it could wait for us, we agreed that clearing the Triboar Trail would do us and Phandalin the most good. The seasons were turning a colder sorts, and soon winter would come to the continent.

As I examined a map of the Sword Coast, I realized this would be quite advantageous for my reputation. Clearing the Triboar Trail would allow supplies to flow between the North and East and Neverwinter, and in addition give the chieftain of Triboar more weight in the continent’s economy by superseding the high and low Dessarin Valley and Long Trail via the town of Beliard, another frontier town even smaller than Phandalin. Having convened with Triboar’s leader, this would give me a great reputation of one who secured the trade routes.

We set off for town and upon closer examination of the distance to travel, it would take roughly a half day’s travel to the settlement of Wyvern Tor, where most activity was occurring on the trail.

Aurora made the initial suggestion. “Perhaps it would be a boon for our purposes to rent a team of horses and cart for travel. If we come across a lode or treasure.” “So, a visit to Barthen’s Provisions before we leave?” “Would be in our favor.”

As we approached the storehouse, the workers were hard pressed at work unloading supplies for the town, having no more concern for raids by the Redbrands. Barthen was in his store when we arrived. “Aye, welcome back! I’d like to thank you again for your work on the town. You’ve given me and a great deal of people a good boost of confidence. Now, what will you be needin’ today?” Aurora handled the transaction. “We are in the need of a team of horses and a cart to pull. Off to Wyvern Tor to halt the orc raids, and we might happen across some interesting pieces. At the very least, we’ll be given transportation.” “Smart on you to do that. I’ll have the lads hitch a team for you, and that’d run you... twenty gold to rent. In addition, I’d expect additional fees in the case of damages to the cart or horses. Bottom line and all that.” “Of course.” Aurora looked back to me with a knowing stare, and it occurred to me we were in the most advantageous position financially to rent the cart. We payed our share, and awaited outside for the cart.

The midday sun hung high above the town as we set off North. At the helm was Fardahr, driving the horses. Urnig and Rokk took to covering the sides of the cart. Epide, Artemis, Aurora, and I sat in back. I thought back to my first travels toward Phandalin, nearly a week’s time removed from my current situation. And yet, the ease of the ride brought back a similar fondness. The sun and peace let me rest my eyes for a moment.

As we neared the Wyvern Tor, the cart jolted to a halt. I was awoken to the sight of Fardahr looking off in the distance. “What’s the matter, Fardahr?” “Can’t tell. I’m seeing odd movement up ahead.”

I readied my sword in preparation, only to be nearly thrown from the cart as the horses bucked. Something terrified the creatures and the cart took off. Fardahr still at the helm, I had to make a quick decision, and in the confusion I jumped from the wagon. Thinking the wooded area would have a measure of soft loam, I was immediately hoist by my hubris as the ground gave way to a hardened soil. My shoulder hit the ground with a thud and I tried to gingerly ascend to my feet. As I tried to scan for what Fardahr had detected, I could see in the tree line to the left of the road that weapons had been drawn.

As I ran ahead, rapier drawn, I could see Urnig and Artemis pinned in a swarm of vile creatures. They appeared as giant insects, flying and encircling with rapidly beating wings and bodies filled with claret, a long and sharp proboscis the instrument of torture. Aurora had taken her harp from her side and dipped behind a covering in preparation to unleash her magic. Seeing me, she exclaimed, “What a situation we’ve found ourselves in!” I couldn’t agree more, as several of the vermin flew into our vicinity.

From behind, Fardahr wielded his crossbow and attempted to catch one of them before it collided with us. The bowstring snapped with authority, but the arrow soared wide, as the insects continued on our trajectory. Aurora met one in combat, but was quickly stabbed through the arm.

As I set my eyes on one of the smaller blights, the creature lost its height and collapsed to the ground. Turning about, I could see a familiar figure standing no more than six inches tall, floating in a bag of detritus and odors. Epide had cast a spell of sleep on the local fauna, making our task that much easier. Unfortunately, this had the added consequence of putting Fardahr immediately out of commission. This matter would have to be attended to before our eventual conquest against the orc population.

Having seen another of the flying creatures darting into my vision, I stuck the rapier through its carapace, instantly dispatching the creature. It was in this sudden attempt at skewering my foe I remembered the creature was filled to the brim with the blood and sinew of local creatures, and my blade was immediately coated with the viscous red. Gently, I set about removing the still twitching corpse from its perch, which proved simple given the base anatomy of this particular specimen. Still, the effort was disgusting, and I would need to clean my blade in the aftermath.

As the fight progressed, I could see Rokk pulling his measure of the fight. With a unheard-of measure of dexterity, he plucked one of the insects from mid-air and proceeded to bash it into a nearby tree. The resulting mess caused that portion of the field to be drenched in claret.

In this moment, I sought to help Aurora with the creature that had stabbed her through, but before I could react, she had used her rapier to silence the creature. With a taut and simple “No”, acknowledging the corpse that lay at her feet, she rose, ready to dive back into the fray.

Urnig, seeing his sparring partner take the opportunity to destroy one of the insects with brute force, thought it fair to in turn unleash his magic savagery on one of the insects that had flown into his range. With a fist that rivaled my own skull in size, he grabbed the creature, and cast a blast of magic, slamming the beast over his knee and producing a similar explosion of blood that coated his entire body. Perhaps my time with Urnig had dulled my senses to abhorrent violence, or perhaps I was allowed predisposition, as such from my history of battle, but a peculiar sense of calm washed over my person knowing his simple savagery might win us the day.

Our halfling companion Artemis sought out one of the insects in the swarm she was entangled in and with a further brutal showing used her own rapier to cleave one of them in twain. This was further compiled upon as she used her boot to grind the body into the ground, effectively rendering any postmortem movement silent.

With most of the assault dispersed, Epide took this time to attempt to wake the sleeping Fardahr. The dwarf slept fitfully, a loud commotion coming from his person. A few slaps across the face proved incapable of rousing the man, so Epide, in a fit of complete madness from my perspective, dumped his floating bag of water, his method of transport and container of various corpse trophies, onto the sleeping victim. Fardahr arose from his sleep and immediately at the presence of the stench retched his breakfast twice over.

Epide was not complete with his effort of madness, as he began to run about, leaping onto one of the already dispatched insect and ripping its nose off in an effort to find a suitable weapon. This nose was, in essence, a shortsword to Epide, and I applaud his improvisation, but still condemn his method.

Having now reduced our quarry to two remaining foes, one of which remained asleep from Epide’s spell, I stepped toward the tree line and wielded my blade with a flourish to run the insect through. A costly mistake, as the blade fail to land the killing blow. Rokk, at this point next to my own person, to his chance to land the blow to conclude this fight. Unceremoniously, he missed the swing of his club, and we were both stunned in silence. Which gave way to a tirade of both Rokk and I unsure why this creature was not dead. Artemis, for her part, began rolling on the ground peeling with laughter at our misfortune. While I don’t recall what was said between Rokk and I, the resulting commotion might have been the triggering incident to cause what came next.

As Artemis lie in tears of joy over this sight of incompetence and Urnig dispatched another of the insects for good measure by slamming it into the same tree Rokk had previously used, a sudden rumble from the ground arose. In the woods to my left, the sound of a roar shook the air. It filled me with an oncoming sense of horror, as the very structure of my body was suddenly shaking with the reverberations of the air.

I turned to see a massive form rise out of the wood. I only had to notice the creature’s face to know what matter of violent beast had been summoned by the commotion. This was an owlbear, a creature born of the fiery imagination of lore and reality, a great beast that many knights of yore have slain and few have tamed. To now come upon its form was a measure of daunting I was not prepared to witness.

With a grown sense of immediacy, Fardahr loosed a bolt from his crossbow, only to see the projectile snap against the beak of the owlbear, doing no damage to the beast. If any result occurred, it was the owlbear’s humor becoming perturbed, and I found myself face to face with the creature.

Before I could make my attack against it, the owlbear reared back its claw and swung, connecting with my body. The two entry wounds where I had been impaled with javelins days earlier immediately opened, and as I was thrown against a tree, I could see my blood began to pool on my attire, the red staining my white under attire through. It took all of my fortitude to remain awake in this sense, as I saw the others begin to take their measures in retaliation.

Epide, though small in stature, raised his hands in defiance. Again, a vibration shook the area, as the ground turned in on itself. Below the owlbear, the earth became near impossible terrain, and Epide jumped for joy at the sight of the temporarily confused creature. Taking advantage of this distraction, Rokk took the chance to summon a well of energy and his eyes became a visage of death. With the fighting spirit of a whole regiment, he unleashed a vicious assault on the owlbear, yet the creature held firm.

As I roused myself to wake, I found myself cornered by the last of the insects, with the owlbear’s back turned. Were I to choose a target, it would have to be one that did not pose immediate threat to my wellbeing upon a strike. I lunged in desperation at the insect, as it dodged frightfully out of my grasp. I was beset by fear, violent and tremendous, and I stabbed further still at the owlbear. Again, no luck, and I felt my arm give way to intense pain. The only measure that remained was to flee from the melee in an act of desperation. As I ran in self-preservation, I felt the warm breath of the owlbear on my back, and was met with a stab of pain as the beak wrought itself into my back.

I was safe and away for the time being, but it was clear that I would by on death’s door if struck again. I collapsed to the ground, blood now seeping throughout my clothing. From afar, I only had time to see the hand of Aurora rise up through half-closed eyes, and I felt a burst of magic run through my person. One of assurance and protection, no doubt, but inherently still my being had been compromised. All i heard in my head, ringing like the bells of a cathedral.

I am a coward

I saw Aurora raise her hand again, this time in the direction of the owlbear. With a pluck of the strings, the beast burst into a conflagration. I could not appreciate this move fully, only feel the burning sear of the flames and the rancid smell of flesh and fur alight, only further choking my senses.

Fardahr dove beside me, and with a tuck and roll let loose another bolt towards the owlbear. Striking dead center in the face, the resulting spray of bodily fluids mingled with the flames, setting the face in a permanent shriek as the body collapsed and lay still. I hadn’t the will to cheer or whoop in excitement. Aurora immediately extinguished the fire and set about the body along with Epide. He later gathered the corpses of the insects for his vile machinations.

As I lay there, blood still pooling about me, I felt the warm touch of a guiding hand. I was not unconscious but still beyond any measure of good health, and the divine spell Fardahr cast on me aroused me from my state. My blood began to retreat back into my person, and my wounds were sealed in a process that despite its effect did not hurt or cut with pain. I sat up, with Fardahr holding my shoulder. “You gave me a scare, young man. Are you okay?”

I shook my head awake, my hair a tangled mess getting into my eyes. “I am now. Thank you, Fardahr.” I stood up, groggy and unstable, but better still. Patting his shoulder in acknowledgment of service, I stood up and made my way back to the horse cart. Only to hear further retching from behind me.

Aurora was beside herself with joy at the sight of an intact owlbear. I could see her eyes alight with glee at the prospect of the clothes this pelt would divine. The feathers adorning the arms and legs were still in beautiful condition as adornments. Even the teeth could be split, separated, dried, and crafted into ivory jewelry of untold wealth. I am only keen to this as Aurora began listing these elements shortly after we loaded its corpse into the horse cart, a bit of mania overtaking her eyes in anticipation for its dissection. We were slower going, and it only aided my situation as I still felt a measure of pain while walking. At some point, we halted and I was loaded onto the driver’s perch with Fardahr, allowed to rest and recoup. It was still fitful, having to sleep some time next to the creature that nearly ended my corporeal existence.

The Wyvern Tor itself is a crevasse in the hills of the Triboar Trail, and despite utilizing this route in the tour towards Neverwinter, my caravan had stayed north of the locale, having been alerted previously by members of Triboar of the orc camp. The natural feature has held many different hosts of fauna, given it’s advantageous position when seen from the trail. As we neared the location of the tor, I first smelled the telltale signs of a campfire. We could hear two orcs posted as guards towards the mouth of a cave, with others still in the open. I received in my mind a flash of the goblin outcropping that began our time in service.

By the time the cart stopped some distance away, my injuries had been attended to, as had Aurora and Urnig. While I was clearly in better health, I couldn’t shake the feeling of horror the owlbear had beset upon me. I had never seen a beast as large nor as powerful in combat. I was deemed only useful in duels of honor and fairness. Surely, I had realize the world did not allow for such contests consistently. Surely. Yet, in the deepest hole of my mind, I felt betrayed by this turn of events and fearful still for my life.

We huddled in planning, and agreed Artemis would take the first stab at the orcs, in both a figurative and literal sense. Her size and speed combined with precision would allow a swift attack and retreat back into our party’s numbers. We lie in wait, preparing our methods of war, as Artemis clutched her daggers with pause. Then, she was off.

Across the field she tore through the grass, faster than anyone had anticipated. Rounding the circumference of the open field against the trees, she rounded the final corner and went for the orc guard on the right. In a flash, she slammed headfirst into it and cut the throat, an instant and painless death. Further still, she marked the other guard and again tore into it, a bass cry of pain ringing through the air. With a dash back, she had given us the element of surprise.

With a ravenous want, Epide saw the corpse and began to run towards it across the ground. The blood that had sprayed from the orc’s body apparently was enough to distract him, as he bathed in it like a duck bathes in a lake. Despite this horrid distraction, he still summoned the wherewithal to again form the ground anew, creating a pitfall that trapped one of the orcs.

Fardahr, having reconstituted himself from retching, began to channel a spell with a mischievous look on his face. A form of light took shape on front of him, but suddenly a look of frustration came across his demeanor. Having resigned himself, almost as if the god of his dominion came to warn against a cruel prank, he concentrated further and produced an iron brand, still wielding with an air of confidence. I was confused by the sight, but was quickly made aware of the power of a holy weapon as Fardahr hurled it towards a nearby orc, striking it clean.

Artemis, having set herself once more towards the orcs, struck the trapped orc and produced a rude gesture in its direction. Against the field, I could see more and more a chaotic, ramshackle fighting. I was still in pain. I was still terrified of the scene before me. But again, I felt magic turn to me, as Aurora cast a spell against me. I was grateful for her art, and only wished I could repay in kind her help. I grasped my bow and arrow and took aim at an orc, but my hand slipped in disorientation, ricocheting off the brand. I was lost.

Artemis again was engaged in combat, dodging and weaving with precision, all strikes against her missed.

I’m back where I started.

Fardahr took a shot and found his mark.

Five years alone, talent wasted.

Rokk, without mercy, decapitated an orc and let a war cry.

I’ll just hope to fire my bow from afar and not get hit. This accursed weapon. It’s brought me nothing but strife.

As it looked like my group of fellow travelers were on the cusp of turning the fight and seizing victory, we were stunned to silence as a mighty roar escaped the cave. From inside, only darkness permeated. Only dank and must. Only sound escaped the cave.

And then it came.

#tomera #spoilers #dnd #dnd story #dnd log #lost mine of phandelver #air genasi #fighter #chapter 10

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thebizmarketer · 5 years

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ESA confirms second ExoMars parachute test failure - SpaceNews

New Post has been published on https://newsprofixpro.com/theeyesofthe/2019/08/12/esa-confirms-second-exomars-parachute-test-failure-spacenews/

ESA confirms second ExoMars parachute test failure - SpaceNews

WASHINGTON The European Space Agency said Aug. 12 that another test of the parachutes that will be used on the ExoMars 2020 lander mission failed last week, putting the schedule of the mission into jeopardy. The Aug. 5 test, using a high-altitude balloon abo… Read More

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New: A brand-new, unused, unopened, undamaged item in its original packaging (where packaging is

Model:

PG1202S

Outlet Type: 120V 7.2A,12V DC Power Connector: 1×120 V Application: Job Site,Recreation Battery Included: No (Body Only) Horsepower (hp): 2.2 Fuel Type: Gasoline Operational Volume (dB): 65 Battery Type: Lithium-Ion (Li-Ion) Engine Make: OEM Branded Generator Type: Portable Starting Wattage: 1200 MPN:

PG1202S

CA (CARB) Compliant: CARB Compliant ISBN:

Does not apply

Number of circuits/outlets: 3 UPC:

819699010494

Power Type: Gas & Oil Mix EAN:

819699010494

Returnable: Does not apply Custom Bundle: No Run time at 50% load (hours/tank or charge): 8.5 Modified Item: No Features: Muffler,Overload Protection Included: No Additional Items Included Start Type: Recoil Start Suggested Uses: Lights,Power Tools Engine Displacement (cc): 72 Full load fuel consumption (gallons/hour): 4.25

About this product

Product Information This handy, two-cycle generator provides enough portable power for those jobs around the house or when you are hunting, fishing, camping, tailgating or even out on a boat and does so without breaking your piggy bank. Product Identifiers GTIN 0819699010494 BRAND Pulsar MPN PG1202S UPC 0819699010494 eBay Product ID (ePID) 188581261 Product Key Features Model PG1202S Power Connector 1×120 V Battery Included No (Body Only) Fuel Type Gasoline Battery Type Lithium-Ion (Li-Ion) Generator Type Portable Dimensions Weight 37.5 pounds Length 14.6 in Additional Product Features Run Time – Half Load 8-12 Hours Voltage Rating 120 V Option 1200w 2-Stroke Sound Rating 65 dB Engine Displacement (cc) 72 Bevel Capacity Dual BuilderDepot SKU 1839454 (1) Frequency 60Hz Run time at 50% load (hours/tank or charge) 8.5 Suggested Uses Lights,Power Tools Warranty Length 1 Year Primary Genre Comedy Rated Output Less than 2,000W Run time at 50% load (hours/tank or char 8.5 Product Weight (lb.) 33.5 Features Muffler,Overload Protection Color Black Equipment Type Generator Series M Purpose Main Original or Reproduction Original Max Output Less than 2,000 Brand New Item Unopened, Sealed in Original Manufactures Packaging Use Portable Generator Battery Power Type Lithium Ion Weight (lbs.) 41.25 Theatrical Release Year 1984 Blade Location Left Run Time 102 minutes Length (in.) 12 Actors Eddie Murphy Performance Level Best Tank Capacity 1.2gal. Assembled Product Weight 1 Oz Exact Color Black itemListElement 1200 Watt Portable Generator$232.3111d left Cooling System Air-Cooled Hit count 2286 Cord Length (ft.) 65 Retail SKU 5285648 Fuel Tank Capacity (gallons) 1.1 Speed 3600 RPM CA (CARB) Compliant CARB Compliant For Use With Saw Type Generators Shipping Note See listing for remote shipping exclusions. Number of Phases 1 Listing Type FixedPriceItem Language English Wattage 1200 Watts Horsepower 2 HP Assembled Product Dimensions (L x W x H) 1.00 x 1.00 x 1.00 Inches Number of Settings 1.0 Style 2 stroke, Gas/oil Outlet Type 120V 7.2A,12V DC Product Type Generators Run time at 50 load hourstank or charge 8.5 PackageDimensions 1400, hundredths-inches, 1670, hundredths-inches, 3796, hundredths-pounds, 1440, hundredths-inches Amperage 4 amps Voltage 120 Genre Comedy Pulsar Portable Generator, Series PG1202S, 900/1200 W Power, 120 V, 8.3 A, 60 Hz, 1 Phases, 2-Stroke Air-Cooled, 1-Cylinder, 72 cc, Recoil/Manual, Alternate Model Numbers 5285648 PG1202S Starting System Recoil Start Size 12×1.5×7.7in. Max. RPM 3600 RPM Exclusion No Shipment to State of CA Item Package Quantity 4.25 Motor Type Brushless Country Manufacture United States Type Portable Frame Shape Gas Material Steel Frame Box Dimensions 16.7in x 15.3in x 14.5in Includes No Additional Items Included Output Voltage 120V Portable Y AC Max Output 1200 W Product Height (in.) 12 Noise Level 65dB Position 2

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tekamedia · 5 years

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Friendly fire: Planned Parenthood group rips CNN over lack of abortion questions during debate

New Post has been published on https://newsprofixpro.com/tekamedia/2019/07/31/friendly-fire-planned-parenthood-group-rips-cnn-over-lack-of-abortion-questions-during-debate/

Friendly fire: Planned Parenthood group rips CNN over lack of abortion questions during debate

A Planned Parenthood organization took a shot at CNN after Tuesday’s first installment of the liberal network’s two-night Democratic primary debate failed to touch on abortion. “Tonight, voters missed an opportunity to hear how Democratic candidates will app… Read More

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Canon

Series: Canon EOS Rebel Optical Zoom: 3.1x Screen Size: 3.0″ Model:

Canon EOS Rebel SL2

Type: Digital SLR Weight: 14.32 Oz. Connectivity: Remote Control, HDMI Battery Type: Lithium-Ion Megapixels: 24.2MP Features: Body only, Bluetooth, AF Lock, DPOF Support, Audio Recording, Direct Print, Eye-Fi Card Ready, Built-in Flash, Built-in Help Guide, Auto Power Save, Time Lapse, Exposure Compensation, Red-Eye Reduction, Viewfinder, Histogram Display, Noise Reduction, PictBridge Support MPN:

2249C002

Color:

Black

UPC:

013803290806

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Product Identifiers Brand Canon MPN 2249C002 GTIN 0843812108195, 0603784258669, 0738283390975, 0738283390951, 0738283390982, 0748926562379, 0664697861148, 0738283390968, 0664697861162, 0013803290806, 0840102191394 Model Canon EOS Rebel SL2 eBay Product ID (ePID) 240322033 Product Key Features Optical Zoom 3.1x Battery Type Lithium-Ion Features Body only, Bluetooth, AF Lock, DPOF Support, Audio Recording, Direct Print, Eye-Fi Card Ready, Built-in Flash, Built-in Help Guide, Auto Power Save, Time Lapse, Exposure Compensation, Red-Eye Reduction, Viewfinder, Histogram Display, Noise Reduction, PictBridge Support Color Black Series Canon EOS Rebel Screen Size 3.0″ Type Digital SLR Connectivity Remote Control, HDMI Megapixels 24.2MP Dimensions Weight 14.32 Oz. Additional Product Features Exterior Color Black Focal Length Range 18mm-55mm Sensor Resolution 24.2MP Camera Type Digital SLR Sensor Type Cmos Light Sensitivity 100–25600 Lens for Sd EF-S 18-55mm Display Size 3in.

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An item that has been professionally restored to working order by a manufacturer or manufacturer-approved vendor. This means the product has been inspected, cleaned, and repaired to meet manufacturer specifications and is in excellent condition. This item may or may not be in the original packaging. See the seller’s listing for full details. See all condition definitions– opens in a new window or tab

Seller Notes: “IN MInt A+++ Condition”

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JAM AUDIO

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thenewsmax · 5 years

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Yanks' Sabathia goes on IL with inflamed knee

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Yanks' Sabathia goes on IL with inflamed knee

The New York Yankees placed CC Sabathia on the 10-day injured list with right knee inflammation Sunday, one day after the veteran left-hander struggled in a loss to the rival Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park. Sabathia, 39, has failed to reach the fifth inning i… Read More

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DJI

FPV Operation: No Weight: 0.4 kg Maximum Flight Time: 21 min Maximum Control Range: 165 ft (50 m) MPN:

CPPT0000013001

Type: Ready to Fly Drone Camera Integration: Camera Included Connectivity: Wi-Fi Connection, APP Controller, Remote Control Camera Features: 4K HD Video Recording, 1080p HD Video Recording Model:

DJI Mavic Air

UPC:

0190021305717

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Product Identifiers Brand DJI MPN CPPT0000013001 Ean 0190021305717, 6958265159619, 0819548020254, 0689745036545 GTIN 0190021305717, 6958265159619, 0819548020254, 0689745036545 UPC 0190021305717, 0819548020254, 0689745036545 Model Mavic Air eBay Product ID (ePID) 9032251775 Product Key Features Maximum Control Range 165 ft (50 m) Type Ready to Fly Drone Connectivity Wi-Fi Connection, APP Controller, Remote Control Camera Features 4K HD Video Recording, 1080p HD Video Recording FPV Operation No Maximum Flight Time 21 min Camera Integration Camera Included Dimensions Weight 0.4 kg Width Medium (B, m)

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brightfametexan · 4 years

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Ever since last year Russia and Saudi Arabia have been arguing about how to best deal with the inability of OPEC (the oil cartel Russia and Saudi Arabia dominates) to control the world oil price. Over the last decade new oil production technologies (fracking) in the U.S. and Canada have greatly increased U.S. production. The U.S. is again an oil exporter and no longer the largest importer. America does not belong to OPEC and refuses to join because of U.S. laws against such cartels. By late 2019 Russia and Saudi Arabia stopped cooperating because they could not find a compromise solution on how to deal with low oil prices. Both nations began shipping all they could produce in an effort to force the other to determine which nation was the true leader of OPEC and whose strategies would dominate. The result of this feud is low (headed for $20 a barrel) oil prices not seen in decades. Currently oil sells for $26 a barrel and that is half the price used to draw up this year’s government budget. It is unclear how long the Saudis and Russians will maintain the high production that creates the low prices. The goal is to eliminate the North American fracking industry but the Saudis and Russians don’t seem to understand that bankrupting current fracking firms won’t eliminate them. If all else fails, so will economic myths.

https://www.strategypage.com/qnd/russia/20200409.aspx

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tomerasange · 5 years

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Chapter 7: Tresendar Part 1

As I write these final entries for now, the night is illuminated. The torches of Phandalin burn well into twilight, and the people are celebrating. For the first night in months, they are safe from distress. And yet, I have retired early. From the window, I see Urnig and a dwarf sharing in revelry. A small floating creature that came into my life is whizzing through the air, alighted by a levitating pouch. A quick fingered halfling is showing her tricks to a group of young children. I believe Aurora was off somewhere, sewing up a group of pouches upon request. Tomorrow brings more into my life than previously expected, and my task is far from over.

Having dug through my memories, I recall glimpses and flashes of the events that started with Neverwinter. As I look at my fitted and beautiful robes hanging in silence and a small pin in my left palm, I ruminate over the events of today. Did I succeed? Truly? At what cost?

As the sun arose this morning, I dressed up and found my way to the inn’s domain. A familiar sight now, the faces were starting to repeat. A farmer taking in a quick drink before tending to his fields. A small group of merchants taking refuge from the trail, their caravan likely at Barthen’s. Even Garaele managed to find her way into the Stonehill, away from the shrine temporarily.

As I sat next to Urnig, awaiting for Aurora to descend, I noticed two people that seemed to escape my initial days in Phandalin. A halfling and a dwarf wearing the garb of travelers were seated at a table, and talked animatedly at length. Aurora eventually made her way into the inn’s common area, and joined us for breakfast. As we helped ourselves to a meal, I tapped Aurora on the shoulder.

“Darling, I can’t help but notice those two at the table are a bit conspicuous. This is a human settlement, correct?” “Well, we have run into Lineen and the Alderleafs, and Garaele is literally right there. But I know what you mean. They do have a rough quality about them.”

We finished breakfast and walked towards the pair. “Pardon me, but I don’t recall your faces from our time here. I’m Tomera Sange, and these are my cohorts Aurora and Urnig. Pray, are you new to town?”

The halfling woman, wearing a cloak and tunic with a series of pockets, stood up from her seat. “Oh, we have a fancy lad? Yeah, we’re new in town. On call to escort.”

Fancy lad? I could say similar disparagement towards yourself, given I am no longer the smallest being in the room. I held my tongue. “Oh, marvelous. We were actually on escort earlier this week, and have a touch of further business to attend to at the moment. Tell me, who are your employers?” “Look, all I know is we were tasked to take a cart of Neverwinter to Phandalin by some guys called the Lord’s Alliance.” “The Lord’s Alliance? Well, we were hired as well! Perhaps you could be able to aid us then. You see, one of the reasons you were hired to this job were the reports coming from Phandalin. Perhaps you’ve heard of...” and I side-eyed the room to see if any Redbrands were partaking in breakfast.

“Easy, mister. I don’t know who you’re jumpy about, but I know every guy in the tavern. Phandalin’s a good town. Come here often.” “Ah, well, then you’ve heard of these Redbrand types? We were tasked with Sildar Hallwinter to clear out their keep at the Tresendar Manor, but had a spot of trouble yesterday. Perhaps we could come to agreement to clear that rat’s nest out. There is definite coinage in the future for your service.” The halfling looked back towards the dwarf, stoic and quiet, as he shrugged his shoulders. “Alright, you got a deal.” “Excellent! So the two of you-” “There’s three of us.” “Oh, and where’s your third, pray tell?” “Here I am!”

The three of our party turned to face a small voice coming from a small mug of warm beer. In a shock, a small creature popped out from the drink, well hungover. I couldn’t tell if my eyes were playing trick on me, but this being appeared to be a Earth Genasi, forged of a fine black stone with streaks of bronze running through his body and rubies inlaid to his eyes. If so, this would be the smallest Genasi I’d laid eye upon. “I’m Epide!” Aurora was dumbstruck. “Well, then.”

As we assembled and plotted our next move, I took stock of our group’s newest adventurers.

ARTEMIS, the Halfling Rogue. A quick fingered and quicker witted scoundrel whose main objective was to get in, get out, and get gold. In addition, she also carried a rapier by her side, bringing our total to three of the blade type. Indeed, we would have to trade tactics in the future.

FARDAHR, the Dwarf Cleric. A portly chap with a bald head and a burly beard. His warhammer caught my eye, as it was adorned in ancient runes and held a powerful charge of mana. In addition, his healing magics would be invaluable to my worry of injury.

EPIDE, the Earth Genasi Sorcerer. He stood as tall as half my forearm and had a mischievous streak that Urnig found endearing. This odd couple of a massive Aasimar and his six inch friend would no doubt be astounding to witness from afar. My father had mentioned meeting an Earth Genasi once, and he said the fellow was virulently chaotic in temper. Will keep an eye on this one.

We took our leave of the Stonehill and took the trip back through Alderleaf Farm. The townspeople again were out and about, and from a distance we swore we could see the Redbrands congregating. Still, we knew this was the time to strike. With the forces split from the manor, this was a better chance to break their numbers. We approached the door from the day prior, and handed off our Lockpick Set to Artemis. With a flick of the wrist, she made quick work of the lock and we were in with ease.

The entryway was empty of any conflict, and we took to scouring the room for any clues to where the Redbrands were hiding. Epide took full advantage of a basin of water and used a simple spell to part the waters. In this basin, he found a coin sack, the first sign of life, and nabbed it for himself. Aurora noticed a series of doors to her right and began to examine them, while I motioned to Fardahr to check out a series of barrels. We stepped forward and found cured and salted meats, enough to feed a small battalion for a season. I shuddered at the thought of these ruffians, callous and vile enough to steal away the hard earned food of the village. My thoughts were interrupted as I saw Epide had utilized his coin purse in a most peculiar fashion, using it to float about the room using a spell that controlled the flow of water to rise into the air. Never had I seen such a curious sight.

In a moment, my eyes caught sight of another door, a small light emitting from the keyhole. From our position next to the salted meats, I snuck with utmost care to the door and placed a careful ear to it. There was a light shuffle, and a quick sound.

With a unexpected jolt, the door slammed into my body, and it took all of my gusto to hold firm. There was a foe on the other side, and if they wanted a struggle, it is a struggle they would have. I called to the others. “Darlings, a little help with the door, please?” No response, no aid, no other body to hold the door. These absolute traitors.

I held again and again as the door smacked against my frail body. Having no more strength to impose, the door gave way and I fell to the floor. The Redbrand stood in the doorway, sword drawn in a way to cut me through. Just as I saw, overhead, a stab of ice, an dagger, and a jet of fire fly with ease in rapid succession. The Redbrand stood no chance. His corpse burned with a sudden ferocity and collapsed in front of me. I turned back to see the others, drawn at the ready to fire on any others.

I drew my longbow with similar intent, and saw another figure amidst the flames. My arrow soared and stuck true. Provoked and desperate, I lay witness as the Redbrand flew through the air in a single bound, looking to dodge the flames. The Redbrand landed with a grunt and swung his morningstar with a cry. The gruesome weapon failed to connect, and I stood dumbstruck at his unpreparedness. He stared blankly, the error of his judgement realized in that he was staring down six trained warriors. In a fit of absolute dominance, I threw my arms into the air, as if to mimic the gladiators that would sometimes approach the arena of Silverymoon.

Artemis and Aurora cut him down in spectacular fashion, and we were left again in silence. If this is what was to be expected, I was not so concerned for our chances. We searched the room they came from, a makeshift bedroom with two simple beds and a series of more crates. As the others rummaged through the crates, they found several red cloaks. Some presumed to use these as disguises and donned them, but I felt apprehensive to this plan of action. Surely, our mix-matched group of giants and sprites would stand out regardless. In addition, I refuse to wear red on principle. Deep red is not my color.

With the first room secure, we set about the door Aurora came across. Upon inspection, the door was unlocked and no sound came from the opposite side save for a light breeze. We entered the room, a stark hallway whose only defining feature seemed to be the door at the end of the hall, a beautiful angel motif adorning the wood.

Fardahr and Urnig took point lead and walked confidently through the corridor. So be that confidence comes before the fall, as the floor gave way, revealing a trap set by the Redbrands. There was little time to react, as I ran to the edge and grabbed at the struggling Fardahr. Urnig held himself and with a confident lift, escorted himself out of the pit. We stared down into a maw of spikes and the sides of the room. There was enough room to make a delicate shuffle across the pit, and we each took in turns to make our way. Perhaps it was the several feats so far completed today, or the strength in numbers, but my confidence was mighty and bolstered. I took several steps upon my turn to cross, but when I strode across the floor, a stone gave way and I fell. I felt a moment where there was nothing, and then a familiar voice. A fortunate measure that Urnig was there to grab my arm and hoist me up. He grabbed at me before I even registered the fall. To think, being saved by this wild man.

We opened the door and several members went in, and I could see from the back that their stunned faces betrayed an interesting sight. I was anxious to find any further clues, so I marched into the room with confidence. This appeared to be a crypt of sorts, where three familial coffins lay in silence. As I approached one, a stone grinding low cut the room. I held my gaze on the coffin, as a desiccated skeleton emerged, rusted blade in curled grasp. I turned to look at my compatriots, only to see two more skeletons emerge from the coffins. Something about my presence at alerted them.

We fell onto these phantasms, and as the group stood against two of the foes, I held against one. Though I have never fought against skeletons, I deduced the best method of attack was to strike with a more blunt effort. My rapier and arrows were nigh upon useless to this matter, so I withdrew my two battle-axes and swung into battle. The axe connected with a crack and the skeleton remained upright, taking the opportunity to take a swing towards me. I reeled back and connected again with the axe, shattering the ribcage of the skeleton and silencing it. I turned to find one skeleton was now a smoldering pile of rubble and Aurora was in combat with the third. Her rapier was caught in-between the individual ribs of her skeleton, and I dashed towards the melee. With a downward swing, the axe found its mark and the ribcage was shattered and the fight was won. I turned around to the others, and realized with horror their worn the capes of the Redbrands. Glancing about the area, I could see a red banner motif about the abandoned architecture. The long dead ancestors had seen the capes of the Redbrands, and thought them to be allies, where I was an instigator for not wearing the colors.

As we caught our bearings, I scrounged in the coffins, knowing from human society that these ancient fellows loved hoarding their treasure in the afterlife. No such luck, as the room was far too worn to yield any meaningful or expensive artifacts. I even fell over in my search, as the stone lid of a coffin proved too large for my frame and nearly crushed me in its weight. Whatever good will had ben found in our new companions arriving had been sorely squandered by this rat’s nest of a building.

Just as we examined the last of the coffins, we could hear a series of shouts and cries from another room to the side. Someone had been alerted to our presence. We took the time to quietly stand beside the door, refusing to make sound. Eventually, as the room became deathly still again, I looked to Urnig and Artemis, who seemed to be chatting up a plan. Artemis held her ear to the door, and nodded her head. As a group, we readied to charge the door in an instant. I held ready with rapier and shield to come against whatever was near.

The two signaled and Artemis rushed the door, Urnig behind. We could see Artemis stab one of the guards in the room with her rapier, and duck between the legs of the sizably larger Aasimar. As she cleared the doorway, an explosion centered on Urnig blasted the room with sparks of lightning. The shockwave was initially fierce, but I dove into the room see a sight.

One of the guards was slumped over in a heap, his clothes singed with electricity. Epide was flying about in his bag looking to stab at their facewith needle like shards of rock. Aurora snuck in with a stab of the rapier, pinning down one of the guards. Even Artemis was caught again in the fight, having dove in for another round, exclaiming “You’re full of crap”, as she dueled with a guard. I further saw two jail cells. One holding a small child, and one holding two women. I ran to the women and knelt down.

“We’re here for your rescue. Remain calm as we settle this matter!”

The two women sat transfixed in the corner, screaming, eyes wide in terror having seen Urnig cast his magic and the violence before them. I left them in their state and began to move around the cramped room to end this brawl swiftly and without incident. One of the guards had his back turned and I stabbed through the nape of the neck, cutting him to the quick. As everyone flooded into the room, we could see our severe numbers advantage had won the day again.

I made a quick reprieve to the two women as the guards were raided and Epide found a sock to hold onto in a pile of clothes from previous captives. They were malnourished and clearly had been through much in the previous days.

“Excuse me, is one of you a member of the Dendrar family?” The young woman paused. “I...I am.” “We’ve come in service to you, my dear. You needn’t worry.”

The lock was crude and rudimentary, and Artemis broke in with ease. As we freed these poor civilians, they initially collapsed into our arms, having been so weak. As I held them, our band of warriors came across an armory, where Fardahr found a crossbow that was up to his standards and Urnig found a jar of rare preserved peppers. We escorted the family past the rooms enacted for torture, and eventually came to the room we entered. As I saw the door, I paused.

This woman had a son, yet no husband to care for them. His shop was destroyed, his trade gone. They did not have much to spare, and in the winter, who would think what horrors would befall them? I have seen the dregs of society in Silverymoon on several excursions (and soon found myself in contact, given their propensity to enter the arena in search of food and care for the entertainment of the masses). I held myself, and I inserted five more gold coins into the pouch I had held as an aside. It was not much (quite meager, by my standards), but it was my hope that it could serve as enough support along with the twenty gold I had saved.

“Before you leave, dear, there’s something I was able to rescue from your abode. You see, we went looking for you after...” I realized she had not seen her husband’s corpse hung in the town square. “...what had happened to your husband with the Redbrands. We were able to salvage an amount of gold and his tools.”

She looked puzzled by this event. “You went into my house?” I only realized how actually strange our expedition was when said aloud. “Quite, and for that we apologize. It was only in service of your safety.”

She started back, and with a vacant glance, whispered, “Thank you for this. I can’t really repay you, but... no, this is a way. Do you have a piece of paper?”

We stood in the atrium as she began to sketch a crude map of a town. “This is Thundertree, a well abandoned town on the trail. My family had commerce there, and if you go to this”, pointing to the map, “building, there’s a family heirloom. Been lost for some time, given the rumors of Thundertree, but I hope that I might see it once more.” “You have my word towards its retrieval.”

As we went to leave, there was a loud crash and a sound of rubble smacking on cold stone. Behind me, Fardahr and Urnig had been searching for anywhere else, and stumbled on a secret wall in the room. It seemed our job was not complete.

Artemis left with the three to secure them passage to Phandalin, and as the doors of Tresendar once again shut behind us, we turned our faces towards this new room, darkness creeping and a presence felt.

#dnd #tomera #fighter #air genasi #lost mine of phandelver #dnd story #chapter 7 #spoilers #story log

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