INCREDIABLY INTIMATE SAMIJEY IN MY BLOODLINE REUNION??? THEIR INVOLVEMENT HAS TO BE CONNECTED TO ONE OR THE OTHER WITH HOW THEY PLAYED IT UP. ROMAN IS BREAKING OUT THE SPARKLY TRAPPER KEEPER AND EVERYTHING FOR THIS STORY
Roman's return draws near and suddenly things are making SENSE and Sami is back in the fold? Commentary is heavily putting over his and Jey's story and its connection with the Bloodline? Joe Anoaʻi I never doubted you for A SECOND
↠ Warning: SMUT! Cry baby reader, Ballerina AU, fingering, cunnilingus, ahegao faces because he's THAT good, riding, creampie, Suna being soft but meanie dom.
↬ Word Count: 3k
⇢ Day 7: Manhandled (Riding)
Everything felt so magical; elegant. The way you were on pointe made him suck in a breath to every performance he has witnessed from you. Even if he's seen them many, many times in repeat, you were as graceful as a butterfly, as taunting as a little fairy in baby pink. To see how effortlessly you were lifted by your partner during daring performances made him clench his fists of how close those pesky fingers of a stranger were to parts only he was allowed, yet his mind in wonder of how easily handled you were in stage.
How easily you were being handled in so many ways corrupted delicious, arousing day dreams in his calm features, but buzzing head.
He's never been vocal about it, but he adores how tight your ballet clothing were. He especially loved the camisole leotard dress; each time you wore them, he catches a glimpse of your perfectly shaped bottom from the flowy, see through clothing. Thanking the dark, and captured audience to the people on stage and not notice the growing bulge in his pants and his harsh breathing through his nose. The baby pink tone of your attire made you glow of innocence and cuteness he so wants to carry you out and throw you to his bed to snuggle you away from the eyes of the world.
To take your dainty, little self in the cold sheets with the baby pink article of clothing ruined by yours and his cum splattering messily.
The times your eyes would get caught with his pretty ones after your search for him in the sea of the crowd, you would smile brightly st him, eyes forming the adorable crescents he recognizes even from afar. The former, emotionless middle blocker would be in love struck, as if Cupid had shot multiple arrows to his heart just by your glowing form.
You were so precious. His little ballerina.
And he was your prince. Big and strong, beautiful in every way, fit from his previous and present time in volleyball, too good for anyone in this world. He was yours.
"R-rin.."
Too good.
Too good enough for you to be trembling, and just by grinding yourself on his flexed thigh. He couldn't hold back anymore after seeing you present yourself with your new outfit. It was still the same color, but the fabric was thinner than usual, either it was to make your movements more easier or it was just to test his patience. The length of the flowy skirt had been shortened with your legs no longer covered, naked and soft looking, the chest area emphasized your bust too much for his liking.
Oh, you were so delectable.
He groans your name when he felt your juices seep out from your clothed pussy. It was almost as if you weren't even covered well with it. Big, rough hands at the sides of your hips, guiding your shy movements against his thigh to bring you to your awaited heaven. You whimper when he dug his fingers onto the skin, the sounds you were making muffled on his shoulder only making it hard for him to tame himself. Having enough of it, he easily hoisted you up from his thigh and settles you down in bed. God, did he love having a place all to himself with you in it. He gets to do whatever he pleases.
"Pretty."
It came out like a harsh whisper from his lips as he stares at the damped spot of your center. The skirt pushed up and your legs spread out for him, he gets a little closer in between them and drags his digits down your clothed slit. Eyes immediately gazing up to see you biting your fist and your legs quivering in sensitivity. He hums in delight and began pressing in his index on the slick clothing, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your clit, relishing the sounds of your soft moans and his name being chanted like a prayer.
"Shit, baby."
Cursing he pushes the leotard to the side, inserting two of his digits in and curls them quickly, wanting to see and hear your squeals as your grabbed his wrist and propped yourself up pathetically with your elbow.
"W-wait, sensitive.."
Glossy eyes meeting with his blank, but lust clouded ones. He'd take mercy whenever you would warn him at times like this, afraid he might've hurt you in the process, but this, you weren't hurt or anything. You were just being his little cry baby. Instead of listening to your plead and your small hands tightening around his wrist weakly retraining him, he pulls his fingers out slowly, licking his lips at the sight of the transparent, coated digits before plunging back in roughly. You sobbed as your body gave out and laid back down, with his other hand pressing down your stomach, he delivers precise piston of his fingers inside you. He knew you can take it. You can, and you will.
"Rin!! A-ah, Tarou..please.."
Legs trying to slowly shut with his head still in between, he hums in approval before getting a taste of your sopping cunt and lapping his tongue up to your clit. He loved getting crushed with your thighs, they were so soft and jiggly when they shook. It boosted his own ego to have them at that state because of his meek minitrations. What more can he get from you when he snaps?
He suckles on the bundle of nerves, your toes curls as your hips arched up, eagerly grinding to his mouth while pleading for him to stop since his fingers were reaching too deep into the right places inside. Suna was in his own euphoria, never really pegged himself as a man who would get drunk into the taste of you and a man who has his dick prodded up to the air just by seeing you in such princess-like clothing. Writhing beneath him, you lowered your hand down to his hair, tugging the long, luscious brown locks of his as he won't let go of the erected nub, slurping and nibbling at it like a pro.
His own arousal begging to be freed from his black slack, the infuriating fabric getting compacted uncomfortably, making his cock ache painfully. Removing his hand from your stomach, he unbuckled the belt off of his trousers swiftly, shrugging them down and kicking them off with his legs and feet, finally releasing your nub with a pop and mercy left for you.
Your legs automatically closed themselves to soothe the sensitive regions. Gripping the pillow on the side of your head as your clouded eyes gaze elsewhere into a short subspace, panting with small drool slipping from the corner of your lips. Suna sees this and gets up from the floor to hover over you. He shouldn't be so rough; shouldn't take advantage of this state you are in, not when your such in full daze of your own world, not when you looked already so fucked out when he hasn't gotten to the good part.
"You okay?"
The tip of his nose nudges your cheek softly, like a cat, he nuzzles himself on your flushed skin. It was out of character for him to display such affection, but over the years of being with you, oh how his heart softened and crumbles at the mere presence of you. He peppers your cheeks with little kisses, swiping away the drool with his thumb, murmuring praises and love confessions to you.
"You're cute."
"I'm here, baby."
"Mmm.. You're still dripping."
His voice made you dizzy, strum like a string of tantalizing melody as you inhaled his musky scent that made you dig your nose at the crook of his neck. Whimpering a little when you felt something slide outside your folds, warm and hard, Suna grunts and pants out small puffs of air onto your ear. You were so slick and wet that it was tempting to just dick you down right now. But you were his little baby, he had to take care of you first. He wouldn't want to hurt you.
"Will you let me take care of you?"
Your blown pupils lost the clouds that has surrounded them as you moaned out, his teeth sinking in the tender flesh by your neck with your hips jolting up, meeting with his twitching cock. Hands flying to clutch onto his shoulders, you wished you had kept your legs closed as now your flower was being teased to death. Suna groans when he feels you twitch a little, how adorable, he thoughts.
"Well?"
He bites on your lower lip, tugging it whilst keeping the eye contact with you, like he was ravishing you with his pretty eyes as sweat slid down to your face.
"I'm waiting."
He grabs a hold of his cock, you expected he was going to pump a few jets, but instead he began slapping it against your weeping cunt. Squealing at the sound of wet skin slapping and the small waves of pleasure kicking in, you whined beneath him when he chuckles darkly, looking up to him with puppy like eyes.
"Rin, please.."
He stops, leaning forward so that his forehead was pressing to yours, exhaling out softly when he felt himself release a few pre cum jets out from his cock.
"Please what?"
Even though he was getting as needy as you were, he was still Suna Rintarou, a guy who loves to be in control and manipulate what he can. Loves to endlessly put you on edge to have your small hands scratching his skin, your body trapped from his bigger structure. He was addicted.
Frustrated, tears glossed over your eyes with some slipping down a little. You would've screamed at him for being a big meanie, but now you were stuck pouting and crying when you felt him rut against you once more.
"Please!! Need your cock, Rintarou!!"
As those words escaped your plumped lips, Suna cages you in his arms and quickly switches positions with you in a blink of an eye. Confusion written all over your features as you gasped a little when you were now laying on his chest, Suna adjusting his head on the pillow, enough to see you shaking above him and gives your ass a soft smack, rubbing the soft, globe flesh and squishing it with his hand. Your leotard still pushed to the side, allowing his finger to tease the slit up and down, watching you start to lose yourself above him and push back, hoping to get more friction.
"You said you wanted my cock, right baby?"
You couldn't make out what he was saying, too busy rubbing against the knuckle of his index, clawing his chest to ground yourself. The veins in his arms and hands were noticeable, you can really tell he had been keeping himself together. With you above him, arms pressed to your chest, letting your tits be a show for him, hair fanning your features like some kind of princess as the uniform you were now wearing stuck to your skin from the sweat that had built up. Good thing you had spare ones.
Lining himself up to your cunt, he removes his hand away from you as you cried from the lost. Both of his hands found their way back to your bottom, lifting you up with is before slamming you down to his hard cock with a loud moan erupting from his chest and you left with wide eyes and mouth agape.
"Take it, little girl."
The sudden thrust of his cock stung, but it didn't hurt much. No, it made you shocked, panting as if you were in some sort of heat, tongue sticking out at the feeling of his dick stretching you deliciously, the length and thickness making you feel so stuffed. He felt so deeper in this position, you couldn't move. You felt that if you were to try and thrust up and down, you would break. It was all too much.
Suna felt the same way. His head burnt, spinning like a spell was cast upon him when he was engulfed by the warmth of your cunny. Fuck, your walls kept fluttering and tightening around his cock. Every muscle on his body was flexed as he breathed heavily. You were so heavenly right now, he could cum on the spot inside of you.
"R-rin...So big.."
Covering your mouth with your hands, you tried raising your hips up a little, the lewd friction creating a pleasurable wave to your spine as you sunk down immediately, choking out a moan behind your palms and crying. You couldn't move.
Suna licked his lips at the sight before prying your hands away from your mouth and sitting up against the headboard of the bed, pushing you from the small of your back to his chest closer, his hands roaming around your hot, flushed body and cupping your breast through the fabric. Before you knew it, you squealed loudly when you heard a ripping sound from the chest area.
He had finally ruined the skimpy camisole leotard from you, letting your breast free with his face nuzzling into them and taking a nipple in his mouth. His hands went back to your hips, finally guiding you to a slow rhythm as he thrusts back carefully. Moaning softly, you cradled his head in your arms while he suckles on your nipples. Relishing the soft, yet deep thrusts given to you as each second passes.
"Y-you a-ah..Had to r-rip it, o-oh my—"
Tugging his hair from his roots when he moved to the other breast and bit harshly. He tugged the nippled with his teeth softly before lapping his tongue to soothe away the sting.
"You have spare ones. Besides,"
Pushing away from you, his eyes raked to your entirely new look. The ripped fabric hanging loosely with your breast on display, your cunt being stuffed full with his cock, you and your entire form within his control.
"You look so precious right now."
He delivers one hard thrust that made you fall to his chest, only then do you realize that you were not the one moving, but him all along. His pace quickens, the moans and cries from you onlt fueling him more. Suna shuts his eyes as his senses heightened by you.
"U-unf, hah— I'm sorry!!"
Your tears falling to his chest made him shiver and worry, he tried slowing doen his pace, but he feels your hips move around cutely trying to meet with his movements.
"I-I'm sorry, R-in...Ah— I couldn't mo-move!"
You were apologizing just because you couldn't give him the exact treatment and pleasure he was giving you. Normally, guilt would eat you out at this second, but you were far more succumbed by feeling stuffed, the thought of him cumming inside you blocked all other thoughts away. Precious, absolutely precious.
His hand cupped your cheek, giving it a small pinch of adoration and wiping away the tears that had still been falling from receiving his cock.
"It's okay, let me handle you, sweetheart."
Screaming, he began ramming himself inside of you. It burned, it burned so good it hurts, like your insides were being rearranged. His balls smacking up to your ass that was shaking and being squeezed and slapped by Suna's other hand in repeat. You could only stick your tongue out as you tried to make a sound, but it was all too good all that was left is you sobbing dumbly on his chest with Suna grunting and whispering praises beneath you.
"S-so fucking tight.. God, princess, I feel like ah— 'm gonna break you."
Petting your hair, he doesn't stop his pace. They weren't lying when they said this man uses his entire body to use. Was he so strong and flexible to be able to do this to you. Your balled fist went to grab his hand from your hair, lacing your fingers with his and held his hand, weakly raising your head up.
Your voice came out louder at the end when his tip reaches your spot. Moans turning into those you'd hear in pornography feeling your cunt get abused.
"Shit—"
He looked so nefarious; head thrown back, his mouth opening and closing, trying to silent out his own moans to his embarrassment and his hand holding yours tightly. He was to drool for, a real life incubus.
"I-I'm cumming..fuck, take it, baby."
"R-RINTAROU!! N-NO, NO MORE HAH— SLOW DOWN! R-RIN!!"
"SHIT, (Y/N)—"
Your cunt convulsed around his pulsing cock. The rush of adrenaline wrapping themselves to every fiber of your bones as you sobbed loudly, feeling yourself cream for what it's worth around his cock, his own hot, load shooting inside your womb, holding his breath as both your hands gripped each other with toes curling.
"F-fuck, you okay?"
Finishing the last drop, he doesn't pull out immediately. Not wanting to suddenly knock out some oxygen from you, he gives the crown of your head kisses with his thumb stroking the back of your hand. You puffed out breathy pants, body tired and throat scratchy from what happened seconds ago. The redness of your cheeks and the baby hairs the stuck to your forehead made you look so adorable to his eyes, that he leaned forward to kiss your temple.
"T-thank you, Rin...Love you so much."
He can make out the small hearts in your dazed eyes, mewling softly when he accidentally thrusts in while moving his position. Your eyes scrunched up closed, burying yourself on his chest with a small voice,
"Sensitive.."
"I know."
His other arm wrapped around you tightened, rubbing his cheek on your head affectionately. He loved moments like this in doors, just you, him, your bodies as one together in bed. His beautiful, little ballerina in his arms with the soft, baby pink and look on her features and body. It made him smile secretly from you.
Summary: Bruce Wayne's kids, biological, legal and emotional make a call to beyond the veil on Halloween night.
Note: Inspired by the seance scene from Addams Family.
Ao3
Part of my batfam flufftober2020
It was the evening of Halloween, the candy had been distributed, the festivities were done and the rest of the late Bruce Wayne's coven was either gone or sleeping.
Jason brewed the tea, Duke grabbed the cedar, Dick took the crystal globe and the porcelain dish while Cassandra led the way through the tunnels under the house.
Once they got to Bruce's favourite spot, Stephanie laid down the blanket and they all made a circle around the crystal globe. First to last, clockwise. Space was left between Dick and Damian, enough for a fully grown man to sit comfortably.
When everyone was seated, Tim snapped his fingers and the candles already present lit up around the small alcove.
"So?" said Jason, "Are we ready?"
There were murmurs of assent from everyone and Dick picked up the cedar. After lighting the smudges stick he put it at the center of their circle. After, he directed everyone to hold hands.
Once everyone was connected, eyes closed with Damian and Dick having one hand free each, Dick started to say their prayers, calling out to their ancestors for guidance and protection. Once that part was one, he called to one specific person, calling them to join their circle.
The candles in the room flickered for a moment and by the time they all opened their eyes, there was a figure holding Dick and Damina's hands. He was a little faded, almost transparent but his blue eyes were clear and the smile just as they remembered it though he looked a little younger than he had been when he had taken his last breath.
The man smiled and he took his hands away, taking a look around.
"Tea and Seance on Halloween," he said, "How is it that I always end up with the most cliché moments with you guys?"
Jason snorted "Hey, Old man,"
"Hiya Bruce
"Dad,"
"Hello, Baba,"
"Nice seeing you B-man,"
"Hey, B,"
"Good to see you, Bruce,"
"Hi, Bruce,"
The apparition of Bruce smiled and gestures to the teapot and cups, "Don't wait on my account,"
Jason smiled and passed around eight cups of tea.
"So," said Bruce, "What's been going on with all of you? Barbara? You had your birthday last month right, how was it? Sixty-five is a big number,"
Slowly, his children started to tell him of their life's greatest moments since the last time they had talked, the good and the important. Barbara's birthday bash, Duke's first grandchild, Damian's first grey hair, Jason's reform school's second branch and of course, Stephanie's new free clinic. They also talked about Cassandra's accomplishments as Head Witch of the Wayne Coven and Dick's school for magical performing. Tim talked about the advancement and integration of magic and technology Wayne Enterprises and how he and Damian had been working on it diligently.
"That's great, guys," said Bruce, "Sounds like you guys have been having a great time, but tell me the rest of it,"
"What are you talking about, B?" asked Dick, like they didn't have this conversation every time they called Bruce to them.
"Come on now," said Bruce, "I didn't come heat to just listen to the pretty, tell me the ugly,"
Ever so slowly, Damian discussed the numerous deaths an attack on League of Assassins had led to, Barbara talked about her chronic pain with Jason chiming in too, Cassandra talked of the burden of the cowl and Stephanie spoke about crumbling under the responsibility. Dick told them about worrying for his kids and Duke agreed, citing how scared he was since his daughter hadn't really bounced back after her difficult pregnancy.
By the time they were done, most of his kids had tears in their eyes and were quietly hugging each other.
"Thanks for that," said Bruce softly, "But I've been watching you, you know. The nightmares come and go, the hardships might seem like they'll crush you but I know you guys can get through them. I saw how you guys supported each other after I was gone. I know that Dick still calls movie night and Jason still cooks dinner for everyone at least twice a month. Stephanie and Jay, you guys have helped so many people doing what you do,"
"Cassandra, baby girl, I am so proud of what you've done with my former mantel. The League of Assassins has always been wild but Damian, you ave come so far with it, changed the world in ways your mother and grandfather only ever dreamed of and you did it because you are dedicated, you care for those who work for you and while I can't say anything for the grief, you are strong. You guys are all so strong. Tim and Barbara, you guys have made advancements we only dremed of years ago, you guys are going os far and pushing through whatever life throws at you. Even from beyond, I will always admire you guys' strength, all of yours,"
"You really do watch over us all the time, don't you?" said Tim, voice as soft as the slow smile that spread across his face.
"Always," murmured Bruce, "Always,"
His kids smiled, gratitude shining in their eyes
"Thank you, Bruce," said Dick
"You're Welcome, Chum," said Bruce, "Though I think it's time for me to go,"
"Bye, Bruce,"
"See ya, B,"
"Thanks for coming,"
"Thank you, Baba,"
"Bye-bye,"
"Happy travels, Pops,"
"Bye, B,"
"Until next time, Bruce,"
The candles flickered again and when they steadied, their father was once again gone.
On Using Culture As Language In Last Tango In Cyberspace
“THIS REVOLUTION IS FOR DISPLAY PURPOSES ONLY.”
Last Tango in Cyberspace makes culture a character to be explored in equal measure as the main character. Lion, an empathy-tracker, or em-tracker for short—uses his unique talent to consume curated content provided by clients and extrapolate a future; not at an individual level, mind you, rather as a glimpse at the cultural significance regarding the content in the future. It’s an amalgamation of genetic drifts which hardwires an em-trackers’ pattern recognition. Hacking their intuition to do a sort of cultural prognostication.
“A small robot standing on a busy city street corner, looking around. I SEE HUMANS BUT NO HUMANITY.”
Em-trackers methods vary with the person and there are very few known trackers, at least in so far as ones operating in the same capacity of Lion, doing this very niche work for a living. A very good living at that.
Lion, in particular, is rigged to make these deductions from words and logos, though it’s gestured that each tracker would be completely different. He processes the content he’s given, reacts, and tells the client if he sees a future or not. It’s usually a binary answer; a “yes” or a “no.”
“His journalism days are behind him. No longer does he get paid for the plot. Now, he’s paid for saying yes or no—the sum total of his contractual obligations. His work in the world reduced to one-word responses. When, he wonders, did his life get so small?”
Superficially, this book is about Lion being contracted by a major corporate entity to take a look at a crime scene and apply his talents… but this is a very unorthodox application of his gifts and one which ends up taking him down a rabbit hole. Ostensibly it’s a murder mystery wrapped up in noir trappings, something people might expect from cyberpunk. This is where the clear iterations from the sub-culture come into play, however. Within the tropes of a pleasurable whodunit, there’s much more to be consumed.
“You can’t scrub everything,” says Lorenzo. “Information gets what it wants, and it wants to be free.”
A specific trope that follows noir elements in cyberpunk, the investigator in over their head, is a unique vernacular used. There is typically a colloquial dialect that is foreign to the reader and makes them feel a fish out of water. The reader interprets what these cultural elements are in the future with the remix of certain words or the use of completely fictional words, from time to time. Interestingly, the dialect used in this novel is pop culture itself. Not in the very limited sense of Ready Player One, where games, gamers, and gaming is the language—but in landmark moments in cinema and literature that is reasonably absorbed into the general intellect of society. The most common being the novel Dune. Lion carries it with him all the time and is the cornerstone for the explanation of Lion’s gifts and poly-tribalism, a central component to the way Lion looks at culture in the story. People are intersectional beings with complex identities. Tracing the identity back to its origin is possible with technology these days. Appealing to particular facets of the identity can be a predictor for if something is to be successful and thrive or be consumed by another identity that dominates it.
'“Shifting culture requires a confluence of inciting incidents. Something directional that leads to a tribal fracturing and reknitting. Often shows up in language first. In music. Fashion. It can feel a little like hope.” He points at the images. “This doesn’t feel like hope.”
I think this approach both hinders and helps Last Tango in Cyberspace. For one, it’s an interesting use of the trope which proved satisfying to read for me, personally. I had never read Dune but it is explained as needed. I never felt lost. However, I could see some people who had read the book and disagree with the cultural impacts asserted in the text having a problem with most of the book, as it draws from it heavily at a personal level for Lion, as well as a fundamental shorthand for what is happening in the plot; ingrained in the theme and a permanent fixture.
“Words are just bits of information, but language is the full code. It’s wired into every stage of meaning-making, from basic emotions all the way up to abstract thought. Once you can speak a language, you can feel in that language. It’s automatic. It creates empathy.”
The frenetic pacing that accompanies cyberpunk literature is replaced with a sort of artificial acceleration with the structure of the book. Lots of very short chapters, in other words. This allows for expounding on the cultural aspects that are conveyed during the text. You notice what Lion notices. These details becoming foundational to the extrapolations he draws on later. What this means though, is the pacing is somewhat sacrificed in order to get the reader to do the same types of pattern recognition Lion does during the book. It’s clever, but a slow burn.
”Hybridization, he figures, is destined to become one of the ways this generation out-rebels the last generation. How we went from long-haired hippie freaks to pierced punk rockers to transsexual teenagers taking hormones.”
For me, the slower pace made it feel reminiscent of Takeshi Kovach in Altered Carbon. Envoys in that novel “soak up” culture in order to fit in and navigate foreign cultures. Lion’s talent feels like it takes that idea and explores it more thoroughly, engaging with it more, and this method allows you to soak up the information as well. If it were frenetic some of the details would be lost, I feel.
“Lion glances back at the pigeons. Sees a flicker he didn’t notice before. Remembers that the de-extinction program was a failed effort, realizes he’s looking at a light-vert. An AR projection of an almost. The bad dreams of a society disguised as a good time.”
A concept continually being reiterated in the novel is “living the questions.” Something that also subverts first wave cyberpunk, the characters of which are generally on the spectrum somewhere, unlikeable and/or anti-social, and live on the fringes of society in a sub-culture of some kind.
Lion, however, is an embodiment of empathy. He is in stark contrast to those protagonists, relating to most everyone and so can assume their point of view. To the extent, in fact, he resolves to not use his talents on other people.
“We ache for this feeling, but it’s everywhere. Booze, drugs, sex, sport, art, prayer, music, meditation, virtual reality. Kids, hyperventilating, spinning in circles, feel oneness. Why William James called it the basic lesson of expanded consciousness—just tweak a few knobs and levers in the brain and bam. So the drop, the comedown, it’s not that we miss oneness once it’s gone; it’s that we suddenly can’t feel what we actually know is there. Phantom limb syndrome for the soul.”
Last Tango in Cyberspace feels like a love letter to cyberpunk while updating it. In Neuromancer, for example, Gibson’s Rastafarians were a source of major critique. They are also featured in this novel but the author instead traces the cultural aspects and importance of Rastafarian influences on western mainstream culture. It felt as though it was making a point to correct the caricature found in the original source material. Whether or not it succeeds I leave up to someone who’s more educated on that and can speak to it—but the intent is clear.
“the failure of language.” “It’s a creative destruction. Out of that failure comes culture. Out of culture comes desire. Out of desire come products.”
This led me to the only thing I didn’t like about the novel and a personal pet peeve of mine: authors phonetically using foreign language in dialogue. It’s usually done as a form of cultural appreciation and authenticity, I’m sure… but it results in the author needing to clarify what is being said regardless and it just feels uncomfortable. It’s pretty much always from a Western perspective on a minority culture and usually is the default assumption of what the culture sounds like. Lion is able to converse with them for plausible reasons, often not the case when this is encountered, but it’s always left me feeling squeamish. Just tell me they have an accent, placing them in whatever area if that is relevant.
“…what is genuine emotion and what is business strategy. The modern condition.”
As Lion navigates the mystery and ping-pongs about the globe consuming the clues surrounding the mysterious death the reader, too, is engaging in this meta-language. Both in terms of how it subverts or remixes cyberpunk tropes, as well as the cultural context and information Lion imparts as his process. All of which is given weight. Hooking the plot into these details down the line as it comes together.
Most interestingly of all perhaps, the author goes out of their way to state that all of the technology exists in the world today, or is in a lab somewhere being worked on, at the very least.
“The car sees emotions. Signals have been pre-programmed, down to the basement level, below Ekman’s micro-expressions, getting to the core biophysical: heart rate variability, blood oxygen levels. And all from pointing a laser at a tiny vein in the human forehead. The car sees emotions, yet feels nothing. So morality too has to be pre-scripted into the code. Aim for garbage cans and not pedestrians; aim for solitary pedestrians rather than large groups. Empathy programmer, he’s heard it called, someone’s job now.”
This makes the future we are presented with prescient in the same way Neuromancer did with the advent of the Internet and the rise of technology in the ’90s. But where technophobia is firmly rooted in first wave cyberpunk. Last Tango in Cyberspace is making a virtue of humanities peculiarities, some of which we barely grasp. While the Internet is not something we may understand, so too are we learning the same of our own minds. Empathy, after all, is not something we gained from modernity.
“Rilke knew what was up. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will gradually, without noticing it, one distant day, live right into the answer. What’s truer than that?”
And empathy seems to be the thing we desperately need right now, rather than the consensual hallucination that allows us to connect to others while, at the same time, enabling us to dehumanize each other.
“Last tango in cyberspace…the end of something radically new. Copy that.”
“Pitch black again. Like someone extinguished an angel.”
When Jeff Bezos and his now-ex-wife Mackenzie Scott left Boston in 1994 headed for Seattle, they did so on a wing and a prayer. Oh, and an idea. They packed their hopes and aspirations and motored west, ready to start a revolution.
And that they did. Originally named Cadabra and designed to be one of the first e-commerce book businesses (the honor of being first goes to Powell’s Books in Portland Oregon), Bezos quickly realized his name sounded more like cadaver than anything magical. He wisely retrenched and came up with Amazon for the July 1995 launch, a name more fitting for a business that would one day be metaphor of the world’s largest river.
Well, at least in terms of water flow.
We all know the rest of the story. Amazon took off from their tiny garage, and soon it was selling everything from A to Z, systematically whittling away at brick-and-mortar retailers and becoming the dominant player in e-commerce. It is such a powerhouse, as well as perceived threat to mom-and-pop businesses, that it finds itself now the brunt of the social criticism Walmart suffered for many years.
Yup. That’s what a disruptor is. And if you want to see any sympathy from me for the little guys who argue they cannot compete, I merely reply by asking what they have been doing to up their game since 1995.
But Amazon has been wise enough to know that we will never go completely 100% e-commerce. Even during COVID’s restructuring of everything, e-commerce only accounted for $26.7 trillion in global sales. Yes, that’s a lot, but online shopping jumped a mere three points, from 16% to 19% of all retail sales.
All of which explains why Amazon has been itching for a few years now to get into the brick-and-mortar market, specifically with small groceries called Amazon Fresh. But now comes word last week that Amazon plans to open some department stores in selected markets, further testing the waters in traditional retail.
And it is taking a heap of criticism again. There is no denying that Amazon has helped crush a lot of stores, especially during COVID.
The initial stores will be in California and Ohio, if they prove to be successful, expansion is certain. While Amazon’s newest venture is being called “department stores,” at only 30,000 square feet, they are much smaller than a Macy’s, Dillards, or JC Penney. In fact, they are only about 30% the size.
Product lines will revolve around clothing, household items, and electronics, with an emphasis on their own private label brands. The new stores will also function as a Returns center, something Amazon has been doing in partnership with Kohls in recent years.
But I must ask the difficult question: What does Amazon know about BAM retailing? Not a whole lot, to be fair, but given their market cap of $1.62 trillion going into today’s trading, they have all the cash they need to buy talent.
That’s no guarantee, to be honest. I agree that shoppers often like to see, touch, and try on clothing before buying. I get it that some items just need to be scrutinized in a tactile environment. But getting people to cross your threshold is often far more challenging than meets the eye. Amazon may own the online space, but it is just the new kid in town when it comes to stores.
At the personal level, I would give it a try, especially since I have been an Amazon shopper since...oh my gosh...last century. The academic in me, though, would be knocking over people just to take a look-see. Because this kind of stuff excites me.
Realistically, though, Amazon must find a way to use its stores as a driver, not just to sell things from buildings, but also to push ever more people to its website. After all, Walmart has steadily upped its online game during COVID, and now China-based Alibaba is taking on Amazon with fast shipments from half way around the globe.
Blink, and you might just be passed.
And that’s what’s in store as far as I can see. The retail space is forever evolving, be it online or BAM. Every company’s task, large or small, is to stay ahead of the curve, and not fall so far behind it that there is little hope of surviving.
I’m pretty sure that Jeff and Mackenzie never dreamed their enterprise would get this big, disrupt so much of the market, and become as ubiquitous as some of the stores they have replaced. That’s a book worth writing, and I’d buy it from them.
Hannah & Manda’s 200 Follower “Punk’s Not Dead” Creative Challenge
Hey everyone! It’s me, Hannah! And over there is my lovely Manda! We both are excited and very thankful to announce that we have both hit 200 followers. We were so excited that we decided to have a special challenge to celebrate!
The name of the challenge is “Punk’s Not Dead”. Why’s that, you ask? Because Manda and I both grew up with and love 2000s pop punk, and it’s one of the great things that we have in common! We decided to pick out some of our favorite lyrics to inspire you all to create amazing things. The rules are listed below! We hope that you are excited to join us and we can’t wait to see all the awesome things you all come up with!
WHAT IS THIS?
This is a Creative Challenge! We know there are so many creative people with amazing talents in the SPN fandom and we want to give you a chance to share yours! Anyone is welcome to participate!
Do you write fanfiction? Awesome, write your heart out!
Are you an incredible aesthetic designer? Yes, please!
Is art more your thing? Fantastic - make all the things.
Love making compilation videos? We have a great list of songs you can use for inspiration/background!
Got another totally awesome talent that you want to utilize to participate? Sweet, we can’t wait to ohh and ahh over it!
THE RULES:
Following both of us is NOT required but would be appreciated! Pick a prompt from the list below (you can click the song title to hear the song if you are unfamiliar)
Send an ask to either Hannah (@hannahindie) or Manda (@pinknerdpanda) with the number of the prompt that you would like and if you will be creating a fic, aesthetic, art, video or whatever your clever little selves would like to do! (messages and reblogs won’t count so we can keep track of them easily)
Any pairing except NO WINCEST please! :)
SPN only
Any Genre, length, format (Fic writers - just be sure to use a “Keep Reading” break if your fic will be more than 500 words)
The lyrics you choose should inspire your work in some way. If you choose to use the lyrics in what you do, be sure to bold them and give credit to the artists
Be sure to tag both @hannahindie and @pinknerdpanda in your work
Use the tag #HanPan Punk’s Not Dead Challenge
Entries are Due June 5, 2017 (If you need more time or need to back out for some reason - that’s fine, just let one of us know!)
THE LIST OF PROMPTS:
“When I was younger/I saw my daddy cry/And curse at the wind/He broke his own heart/And I watched/As he tried to reassemble it” - The Only Exception by Paramore
“The faster we're falling/We're stopping and stalling/We're running in circles again/Just as things were looking up/You said it wasn't good enough/But still we're trying one more time” - In Too Deep by Sum 41
“But now this broken soul of a boy/Falls in pieces with no choice/At the sound of her voice/He falls apart/But now this broken soul of a boy/Falls in pieces with no choice/At the sound of her voice/He falls apart, he falls apart, he falls apart” - Sincerely Yours by Hit the Lights
“I'm troublesome, I've fallen/I'm angry at my father/It's me against this world and I don't care.” - The Young and the Hopeless by Good Charlotte
“Simple words we never knew,/The power behind what they put us through,/Now it's all begun,/what it takes to make it real./We're standing on the edge of this,/When our soul is gone,/what will we miss?/We lost what it takes to really, really feel.” - Save Us by Cartel
“I watched the smoke, as it grew darker and blew up through the roof/I watched the fed, saw them panic, as the fire grew/I saw virginia, get rid of langley, and its secrets too/I held your hand, and sat there knowing, that we'd make it through.” - Watch the World by Box Car Racer
“Is it still me that makes you sweat?/Am I who you think about in bed?/When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?/Well, then think of what you did/And how I hope to God he was worth it/When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin” - Lying is the most fun a girl could have without taking her clothes off by Panic At the Disco
“As for now I'm gonna hear the saddest songs/And sit alone and wonder/How you're making out/But as for me, I wish that I was anywhere with anyone/Making out.” - Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional
“And the record won't stop skipping/And the lies just won't stop slipping/And besides my reputation's on the line/We can fake it for the airwaves/Force our smiles, baby, half dead/From comparing myself to everyone else around me” - I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song) by Fall Out Boy
“Wait, they don't love you like I love you/ Made off/Don't stray/My kind's your kind/I'll stay the same” - Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs
“Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say./I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way./For all the dirty looks, the photographs your boyfriend took,/Remember when you broke your foot from jumping out the second floor?” - I’m Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance
“I remember the look in your eyes/When I told you that this was goodbye/You were begging me not tonight/Not here, not now” - Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard
“Your sins into me/Oh, my beautiful one/Your sins into me/As a rapturous voice escapes, I will tremble a prayer/And I'll beg for forgiveness/(Your sins into me) Your sins into me/Oh, my beautiful one” - Silver and Cold by AFI
“Laying in the summer grass, you told me not to talk so fast,/As I told you how I feel,/You made me feel right at home,/You told me I was not alone and you knew just how I feel,” - Seasons by Good Charlotte
“life is/only/as good as the memories we make/and i'm taking back what belongs to me/polaroids of classrooms unattended/these relics of remembrance/are just like shipwrecks/only theyre gone faster/than the smell after it rains” - So Long, Astoria by The Ataris
“Back then it meant so much to have you by my side,/I always had your back and you always had mine,” - Let Me Go by Good Charlotte
“feel your fire,/when it’s cold in my heart/and things sorta start/remindin' me of my last night with you/i only need one more day/just one more chance to say/i wish that i had gone up with you too/and i'm sure the view from heaven/beats the hell out of mine here/and if we all believe in heaven/maybe we'll make it through one more year/down here” - View From Heaven by Yellowcard
“I don't care about a thing today /I used to but I'm fed up/And I can hear the words you say/I wish that you would shut up” - Festival Song by Good Charlotte
“Light breaks underneath a heavy door/And I try to keep myself awake/Fall all around us on our hotel floor/And you think that you've made a mistake/And there's a pain in my stomach from another sleepless binge/And I struggled to get myself up again” - Globes and Maps by Something Corporate
“you see, it's never bad enough /to just leave or give up/but, it’s never good enough to feel right” - This Photograph is Proof (I know You Know) by Taking Back Sunday
“Days swiftly come and go./I'm dreaming of her/She's seeing other guys/Emotions they stir/The sun is gone./The nights are long/And I am left while the tears fall.” - Swing, Swing by All American Rejects
“And when it all goes to hell, /will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face.” - The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - by Fall Out Boy
“But I’m too tired to go to sleep tonight/And I’m too weak to follow dreams tonight/For the first time in a long time I can say/That I want to try to get better and/Overcome each moment/In my own way.” - Even If It Kills Me by Motion City Soundtrack
“Oh don't mind me I'm watching you two from the closet/Wishing to be the friction in your jeans/Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him?/I'm just a notch in your bedpost/But you're just a line in a song” - Sugar We’re Goin Down by Fall Out Boy
“I'm gonna tear your ass up like we just got married/And you're all mine now/Tonight is the night we've been waiting for all our lives/Or maybe for just tonight” - Bedroom Talk by The Starting Line
“I tried to be perfect/It just wasn’t worth it/Nothing could ever be so wrong/It’s hard to believe me/It never gets easy/I guess I knew that all along” - Pieces by Sum 41
“And the mindless comfort grows/When I'm alone with my 'great' plans/And this is what she says gets her through it/"If I don't let myself be happy now, then when?/If not now, when?" - For Me This Is Heaven by Jimmy Eat World
“I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have/the days have come and gone/our lives went by so fast” - There Is by Box Car Racer
“Forgive me, I'm trying to find/My calling, I'm calling at night/I don't mean to be a bother,/But have you seen this girl?/She's been running through my dreams/And it's driving me crazy, it seems/I'm going to ask her to marry me” - Remembering Sunday by All Time Low
“Are you gonna live your life standing in the back looking around?/Are you gonna waste your time?/Gotta make a move or you'll miss out.” - A Praise Chorus by Jimmy Eat World
“I just can't look, it's killing me/And taking control/Jealousy, turning saints into the sea/Swimming through sick lullabies/Choking on your alibis/But it's just the price I pay/Destiny is calling me/Open up my eager eyes/'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside” - Mr. Brightside by The Killers
“Hey, you know they're all the same./You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in./Live right now, just be yourself./It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.” - The Middle by Jimmy Eat World
“The angry boy, a bit too insane/Icing over a secret pain/You know you don't belong/You're the first to fight, you're way to loud/You're the flash of light on a burial shroud/I know something's wrong/Well everyone I know has got a reason to say/Put the past away” - Jumper by Bedlight For Blue Eyes version
“Since the day I met you/And after all we've been through/I'm still a dick/I’m addicted to you” - Addicted by Simple Plan
“I got a couple addictions/But I swear that I'm coming clean/I got a new way of thinking/Yeah, you're bringing out the best in me” - Chemicals Collide by Boys Like Girls
“I can't remember the time or place,/or what you were wearing,/it's unclear about how we met,/ all I know it was the best conversation that I've ever had,/to this day I never found someone,/with eyes as wide as yours” - The Story So Far by New Found Glory
“What if I wanted to fight/Beg for the rest of my life/What would you do?/You say you wanted more/What are you waiting for?/I'm not running from you” - The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars
“Your eyes were covered in sunglasses /When they first met mine/I sat there and stared at you /You didn't seem to mind” - I Don’t Wanna Know by New Found Glory
“We drive tonight,/and you are by my side./We're talking about our lives,/like we've known each other forever./the time flies by,/with the sound of your voice./its close to paradise,/with the end surely near./and if i could only stop the car/and hold onto you,/and never let go (and never let go)/i'll never let go (i'll never let go)/as we round the corner/to your house/you turned to me and said,/"i'll be going through withdrawal of you/for this one night we have spent."/and, i want to/speak these words/but i guess i'll just bite my tongue,/and accept "someday, somehow"/as the words that we'll hang from.” - Tiger Lily by Matchbook Romance
“Think i'm dying without you here/so i drink myself to sleep/and then i hide beneath the sheet/and i try to disappear” - Dumb Reminders by No Use for a Name
“First my car broke down/So then I had to hitch a ride/I was almost there/When the motor died” - My Life Story by MxPx
“Now here I sit, so far away./Remembering all our memories./It's times like these that I miss you most,/Remembering when we were so close.” - Jaded (These Years) by Mest
“Well there's a million other girls who do it just like you./Looking as innocent as possible to get to who,/They want and what they like, it's easy if you do it right./Well I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!” - Misery Business by Paramore
“We're traveled like gypsies/Only with worse luck and far less gold/The kids you used to love/But then we grew old/We're the lifers here til the bitter end/Condemned from the start/Ashamed of the way/The songs and the words own the beating of our hearts” - Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year by Fall Out Boy
“She/She's figured out /All her doubts were someone else's point of view/Waking up this time to smash the silence with the brick of self control/Are you locked up in a world that's been planned out for you?/Are you feeling like a social tool without a use?/Scream at me until my ears bleed/I'm taking heed just for you” - She by Green Day
“Bubbles” has been tossed around lately, mostly by Trumpets, Republicans, and even some Democratic commentators, most recently in response to Meryl Streep’s Golden Globes speech last night. That all these “East Coast Elites” and “West Coast Liberals” live in some sort of bubble, out of touch with the “heartland,” the “real” America.
Well I’m here to tell you it’s bullshit. The REAL bubbles are in fact the small towns and communities in “Real,” “Heartland,” “America.”
I know because I’m from one.
WARNING: LONG-ASS POST:
Imagine you live in a small community where everyone knows everyone else’s business, and the entire social circle is centered on church. On Sunday you go to Sunday School, then church service. Then you go to lunch at the local restaurant where you run into everyone you went to church with (or the other church crowds, or the ones who skipped church to go deer hunting...you can tell ‘cause they’re still in camo). There’s probably a bridal or baby shower that afternoon for someone in the church. Then Youth fellowship that night. On Monday through Friday you go to work or school with the same people. On Wednesday there’s another prayer service. And then you have the weddings and funerals, even the Girl Scout and Boy Scout meetings in the fellowship hall, the Vacation Bible School...you get the idea.
And then there’s social media, because so-and-so’s daughter was on it, and she showed her mom how to get on it, and now you’re on Facebook, and who do you friend? All of the people you are already friends with! And you like the things they like, and follow the groups they follow, and it’s usually things that confirm everything you already know of the world.
Every once in awhile you friend someone who you used to be friends with in school, before they moved away for college and then got a job in another city, and they travel and have adventures and you are fascinated...and then they post something political or social that doesn’t fit into your bubble, that goes against your bubble, that pricks a tiny hole into your bubble...and you unfollow that friend, the one who left the bubble, because oh, the world has changed her, she’s lost her way, she’s forgotten where she came from, she’s off in her ivory tower, she’s in her elite bubble.
Now imagine all of this BEFORE social media. When there were no smartphones, no internet, and only 4 channels on TV. It’s a wonder you ever pop that bubble at all, right?
As someone who lived in a bubble, there were quite a few things that popped that bubble for me.
Education. I lived in a college town, so my bubble wasn’t that insular. The university had many faculty that came from other states, even other countries. I went to school with their kids, who gave me new insights. There was also a federal research laboratory, where my dad worked. And he worked with researchers who came from all over.
Most towns AREN’T college towns however. They’re more “industry” towns that shriveled up when the industries left. Their schools are pretty shitty and totally ignore the whole rule about prayer and the pledge cause who’s gonna say anything?
Media. Say what you will about not having a lot of choices, but I think it opened the world to me. Up until the early 1980s, we had a total of eight channels:
2 NBC affiliates (we were dead-center between two tv markets, Memphis, TN and Tupelo, MS)
1 ABC
1 CBS
2 PBS (again, Memphis and MS public broadcasting)
An “independent” station that showed a lot of syndicated stuff and later became a Fox affiliate)
HBO (we had to turn the TV dial to 2 and flip a switch on a box glued to the back of the set).
Having so few options meant there wasn’t a whole lot of opportunity for my parents to avoid or censor, and they didn’t really want to. Being exposed to shows like Sanford and Son, Good Times, What’s Happening, The Jeffersons, and Gimme A Break introduced me to African American families outside of those I went to school with (yes they were stereotypes but they were better than nothing at all). The first Latinx people I “knew” were Maria and Luis from Sesame Street.
Oh and Dad always listened to NPR while driving me to school.
Travel. This didn’t happen as much until I was older, but I feel no matter how old it makes a difference. I left my bubble for periods of time...vacations at first, then college. But then I started my second career that had a travel budget and the world opened up to me. New York, LA, Seattle, Boston, Baltimore, and San Diego this April.
Compared to my grandmother-in-law who never lived more than 10 miles from her birthplace, rarely traveled, and when they did they had an RV so they didn’t even stay in hotels.
Remember that the people the conservatives accuse of living in “bubbles?” They escaped theirs. They busted out of their small towns with narrow streets and narrow options and narrow minds and narrow values, these blue dots in the red states, and they came to the cities, where they met OTHER blue dots who escaped similar bubbles. They gather at student unions and protests, at the well-paying, high-tech jobs they just don’t have in Bubbletown, they meet in Marie’s Crisis in the Village and say “oh, you’re from Mississippi? I’m from North Carolina! My friend here is from Tennessee!”
We commiserate about our bubbles, not just about the awful things we were glad we left behind...the homophobia, the closed-mindedness, the racism, the sexist “when are you getting married/having kids” questions... but the awesome things we miss. How no one understands our obsession with Alabama football, how we can’t find barbecue the way “Ol Johnny Ray” cooked it, how we miss our grandpa’s piggy back rides. How we ask for sweet tea and the waitress points to the sugar packets on the table but it’s not the same so we ask for a Coke and that’s what she brings when we really meant Sprite and “oh, that’s right, she didn’t ask what kind of Coke we wanted.”
And we bring our good bubble stuff to the cities. We open barbecue and soul food places, we bring our music and blend it with other music from other places, we meet someone from Ohio and say “well, I never thought of putting chili on spaghetti but it’s pretty good!” and tonight a bunch of “bubble-dwelling liberal elite special snowflakes” that got their degrees from Alabama or Clemson will pack sports bars in L.A. and NYC and Chicago and London and yell “Roll Tide!” and...well whatever the hell they yell at Clemson. I in fact posit that the REAL America IS in the big cities, made up of millions that come from every bubble imaginable, pop their soapy bubble surfaces and blend into one of those big giant bubbles you see people play with in parks like so:
Isn’t that beautiful?
(And there are those of us who came back to the little bubble. Because we’re gluttons for punishment I guess.)
I can’t explain that mixed nostalgic feelings of excitement and euphoria at last, after 5 years I’ll be home for Christmas. Celebrating Christmas at home with family is one of the dreams of all the OFWs around the globe as a ton of considerations and efforts are at stake pushing it through. It’s not easy as it sounds from the OFWs’ perspective; the need to prepare the things in advance accordingly is paramount. From the work schedules and leaves, ticket booking, cash in a bank, “pasalubongs” and shopping all these need prior planning. For no reason, I am a kind of person that doesn’t practice bucket listing. Hey wait, I do understand the good effective benefits of having one but still, I don’t care much probably, I am more into going with the flow kind of mind setting thingie #MillenialSaThingie. All I want then was to be with my family and love ones with zero itinerary plans at all. How did I spend my 2 weeks Pinas vacay then? Was it worthy? Well, I became broke just a bit after the said holidays and kept asking myself was it really worth the spend? Certainly a big yes! A lot of first time moments that I never thought of in my 30 years of existence happened. I felt ecstatic and truly blessed by God by bestowing upon me the gift of family and togetherness. This has been my prayer ever since and will forever be praying and asking for your guidance and Holy Spirit. (I feel crying writing this last line).
Despite not having a written daily schedule and concrete itinerary plans, I managed to one two punch it and conclude every single day with a smile. Here’s how. First stop was my airline- Thai Airways. Budget is the major contemplation above all and yes mine is too pricey. Needless to explain why holidays like this entail expensive price. My suggestions are;
1. Book earlier at least 5 months before your desired date of flight, it‘ll give you low cost at a reasonable price.
2. Keep yourself online for the discount promos and packages of your chosen airline.
3. If you’ll use a credit card as your mode of payment make sure that you understand every single penny being charged on your bill. Call your bank and make them detail to you every single transaction and hidden charges to avoid any penalty or extra charges.
Apart from the budget, accessibility, and leisure or can be both are the next priority in choosing airlines. Some people are after with the direct accessibility and comfort of their flight that’s why they opted to have a one-way direct flight while others love to wander and take the opportunity to land to another country as connecting flight for quite some time before they go to their country destination. I am a little bit of both but for now, I am enjoying more on to having a connecting flight as I’d love to walk and wander. I had an 8-hour layover in Thailand and was planning to meet some of my old dear friends but due to their prior commitment and schedule, we ended up not meeting after all. I was alone in Thailand with again NO ITINERARY. So I have 7 hours left so I did go out of the airport, tour around to the nearest town, took photos and eat native Thai food. I got to suggest people who are new to Thailand and planning to do the same. ( I don’t know if this is legit as I didn’t experience as much)
1. English speaking. When you’re in Thailand, ask somebody who can communicate in English especially when you’re asking for directions
2. Get a map. Having one is indeed helpful.
3. Read blogs and related travel to Thailand beforehand so to have an idea of what are good tourist spots to go to.
4. When you have enough time you can go and book for the city tour travel booth available in the airport near exits for your convenience in touring. If limited time, try to ask for any preferred nearest and accessible travel spot like the old town, palaces, and statues, shopping mall/ bazaar or beach.
5. For the layover, be back to the airport at least 2 hours before your flight and remember to not bring any liquid or sort in your hand carry. Airport personnel is strict in implementing this rule.
It was really a successful and safe joyride kop khun kha Thai airways.
As expected, the moment that the plane landed on the ground, some of the Filipinos were clapping. I stumbled upon the Christmas decorations around MIA and who won’t notice the big Christmas tree in the center while Christmas songs were playing on. I told myself “Salamat po God. Nasa Pinas na tagala ako” all surreal.
Wedding ceremony is my first off in the PH. It’s not that I just attended the wedding; I run and became the coordinator of the said wedding #1sttime. Well, for the sake of the 13 years of friendship and counting I did it whole heartedly. The bigger catch here was, I came close to the reality of preparing a wedding- it wasn’t easy at all. Well I am so happy to Mr. and Mrs. Paguia. Best Wishes!
Family Time. My mom and sister Aicee fetched me up from the hotel that I stayed in for the wedding. from there, we took #grab taxi going home. We exchanged hugs and kisses especially my mama. I cant explain the cloud 9 feelings plus that moment when I finally arrived home and welcomed me by my titas and papa… it feels like I’m in the Disneyland.
The first few days I spent at home were for house cleaning and furniture varnishing. We got a small apartment house so cleaning is not an issue at all. I also volunteered myself to help them in making, baking and selling bread for our small bakery business. My reason was to understand their regular daily routine. It was tiring yet rewarding though. #1sttime
Metro manila film fest is one of my go to. I am a fan of MMFF and this year again #1sttime that the selection has changed to something new where quality motion pictures matters than block buster. Sad to say that I only got to see 1 out of 8 entries due to time constraint. Awaiting for the blueray copy.
Babe time is babe time. I don’t want to share much here as I am keeping my relationship private but not a secret. We had also #1sttime moments and got to meet both ends’ family. Till here.
As I mentioned that I didn’t have schedule, my friends from different circles were having hard time to fit in our get together. During this time, a lot of family reunions, company Christmas party and shopping were happening that made it extra tough to manage. In spite of, we got a quality catch up session and still enjoyed each others’ company just like the old time.
Family out of town is the most expensive expenditure yet priceless during the holidays. Skeptical huh? Again #1sttime that we went to Tagaytay all together as in “all together”. I came from a modern family having two mother and not so sexy sister- kidding aside. We spent the whole day of being together and appreciate the value of our family. The same happened during the New Year’s Eve celebration where again #1sttime that my grandmother from my mama’s side opted to celebrate it with us. It was really #1sttime.
It was a one ten punch vacay for me indeed as a lot of great realizations I have taken out coming back here in abroad. A kind of reflection that made me a stronger yet simple person inside out.
1. I don’t know how to live in PH anymore or I maybe I need couple of more times to cope up. My street smartness has gone completely. My skills at riding on the public transport, acquaintance to terms and places, and the pop culture reference of PH were all unfamiliar to me.
2. With friends, as I grow older, my circle is getting smaller but tighter.
3. I have a modern family set up, physically we are apart but spiritually and emotionally we are intact. We are here what we are today and chose this kind of life to live. We might have difficulties amongst us, especially my sister and not to mention those awkward moment between my parents when they were together but still at the end of the day, we choose to express our love and be in this family. Though not spoken out, we showed the love the way we understood it after all. If again, I’ll be having my next vacation, I’ll always choose my family back home as for me this is the happiest place on earth.
This is a bit too long but do still read it till the end.
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Graduation address by Nipun Mehta, on May 27, 2013
When the student body of an elite private school in Silicon Valley was given the chance to vote on who
would give their graduation address this year, they chose a man named Nipun Mehta. This is the speech
that Nipun Mehta delivered.
Thank you Jennifer Gargano, Chris Nikoloff and the entire faculty at Harker. To you, the class of 2013,
congratulations! I’m delighted to be with you on your special day, and it is a particular honor since I
know you chose your speaker.
So, graduation day is here and this once-in-a-lifetime milestone moment has arrived. In the words of
Taylor Swift, I can tell how you’re feeling: “happy, free, confused, and lonely, miserable and magical at
the same time.” Who would’ve thought we’d be quoting words of wisdom from Taylor Swift at your
commencement.
Today, I’m here with some good news and bad news. I’ll give you the good first.
You might be surprised to hear this, but you are about to step out into a world that’s in good shape - in
fact the best shape that that it’s ever been in. The average person has never been better fed than today.
Infant mortality has never been lower; on average we’re leading longer, healthier lives. Child labor,
illiteracy and unsafe water have ceased to be global norms. Democracy is in, as slavery is disappearing.
People don’t have to work as hard to just survive. A bicycle in 1895 used to cost 260 working hours,
today we’ve gotten that number down to 7.2.
So, things are progressing. But I’m afraid that’s not the full story. You’ll want to brace yourselves,
because this is the bad news part.
This week, Time Magazine’s cover story labeled you guys as the “Me, Me, Me” generation; the week
before, NY Times reported that the suicide rate for Gen X went up by 30% in the last decade, and 50% for
the boomer generation. We’ve just learned that atmospheric carbon levels surpassed 400 PPM for the first
time in human history. Our honeybee colonies are collapsing, thereby threatening the future of our food
supply. And all this is just the tip of the iceberg.
What we’re handing over to you is a world full of inspiring realities coupled with incredibly daunting
ones. In other words: miserable and magical isn't just a pop-song lyric - it's the paradox that you are
inheriting from us.
So, what do you do with that? I’m going to be honest - I don’t really know. I do know this, though:
At the core of all of today's most pressing challenges is one fundamental issue: we have become
profoundly disconnected.
Rather ironic, considering that we live in an era where Facebook has spawned 150 billion “connections”,
as we collectively shell out 4.5 billion likes on status updates, every single day. Yet, a growing body of
science is showing what we already feel deep in our gut: we’re more isolated than ever before.
The average American adult reports having just one real friend that they can count on. Just one. And for
the first time in 30 years, mental health disabilities such as ADHD outrank physical ones among American
children.
Somehow we’ve allowed our relationship to gadgets and things to overtake our real-world ties. We’ve
forgotten how to rescue each other. Yet, deep inside we all still have that capacity. We know we have it
because we saw it at Sandy Hook, in the brave teachers who gave up their lives to save their students.
We saw it during the Boston Marathon when runners completed the race and kept running to the nearest
blood bank. We saw it just this week in Oklahoma when a waiter at a fast food chain decided to donate
all his tips to the tornado relief efforts and triggered a chain of generosity.
So we know that we can tap into our inner goodness when crisis strikes. But can we do it on a run-of-
the-mill Monday?
That’s the question in front of you. Will you, class of 2013 step up to rebuild a culture of trust, empathy
and compassion? Our crisis of disconnection needs a renaissance of authentic friendship. We need you
to upgrade us from Me-Me-Me to We-We-We.
Reflecting on my own journey, there have been three keys that helped me return to a place of connection.
I’d like to share those with you today, in the hope that perhaps it might support your journey.
The First Key Is To Give
In the movie Wall Street - which originally came out well before you guys were born - there’s a character
named Gordon Gekko whose credo in life reads: Greed is Good. When I was about your age, Silicon Valley
was in the seductive grip of the dot-com boom. It was a time when it was easy to believe that Greed was
Good. But a small group of us had a different hypothesis:
*Maybe* greed is good, but Generosity is better.
We tested that hypothesis. When I startedServiceSpace, our first project was to build websites for
nonprofits at no charge. We ended up building and gifting away thousands of sites, but that wasn’t our
main goal. Our real purpose was to practice generosity.
In the early days, the media was pretty sure we had a hidden agenda. "We're doing this just to practice
giving with no strings attached," we said. The few who actually believed us didn’t think we could sustain
it. The thing is - we did. A decade later, when our work started attracting millions of viewers,
entrepreneurs told us that we'd be crazy to not slap on ads or try to monetize our services.
The thing is - we didn't. We probably *were* a bit crazy. And when we started Karma Kitchen, people
really thought "No way!" It was a restaurant where your check always read zero, with this note: "Your
meal is paid for by someone before you, and now it’s your chance to pay it forward." The thing is - 25
thousand meals later, the chain continues in several cities around the globe.
People consistently underestimate generosity, but human beings are simply wired to give.
In one study at Harvard, scientists surprised a couple hundred volunteers with an unexpected monetary
reward and gave them the choice of keeping it or giving it away. The only catch was that they had to
make the decision spontaneously. Lo and behold, the majority chose - to give away the money! Greed, it
turns out, is a calculated after-thought. Our natural instinct is, and always has been, to give.
When you take Economics 101 in college, you will learn that all of economics is rooted in the assumption
that people aim to maximize self-interest. I hope you don’t just take that for granted. I hope you
challenge it. Consider the likes of Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. and Mother Teresa, who
have rocked the history of our planet with the exact opposite assumption, with the belief in the
goodness of our human nature.
Or consider Ruby Bridges:
Six-year-old Ruby was the first African American girl to go to an all-white school on Nov 14, 1960. All
the teachers refused to teach her, except for one Mrs. Henry. Ruby received constant death threats and
on the way to class every day, people would line up to shout and throw things. Mrs. Henry instructed
Ruby to not speak to anyone, as she crossed the jeering crowds every day. But one day, she saw Ruby
saying something, so she said, “Ruby, I told you not to speak to anyone.” “No, Mrs. Henry, I didn’t say
anything to them.” “Ruby, I saw you talking. I saw your lips moving.” “Oh, I was just praying. I was
praying for them,” Ruby responded. Then she recited her prayer, and I quote “Please, God, try to forgive
these people. Because even if they say those bad things, they don’t know what they’re doing.”
A six year old! Wishing well for those who were wishing her harm. How generous is that? And what does
it say about the power of the human heart?
Our capacity to love is a currency that never runs out.
May each of you tap into that generous ocean and discover every day, what it means to give.
The Second Key Is To Receive
When we give, we think we are helping others. That's true, but we are also helping ourselves. With any
act of unconditional service, no matter how small, our biochemistry changes, our mind quietens, and we
feel a sense of gratefulness. This inner transformation fundamentally shifts the direction of our lives.
A couple summers ago, we had two 14-year-olds, Neil and Dillan, interning at ServiceSpace. One of their
projects was a 30-day kindness challenge - they had to come up with and do a different act of kindness
every day for a month. In the beginning they had to plan "kindness activities", but slowly they learned
how to spontaneously turn their daily life into a canvas for giving. Doing the dishes for mom without her
asking, stopping to help a stranger with a flat tire, standing up for a bullied kid, gifting all their winnings
at the arcade to a child.
Very quickly, kindness shifted from being an activity - to a way of life.
It wasn't just about who they were helping; it was about who they themselves were becoming through
the process. Last weekend, I happened to see Neil after a while, the day after Senior Prom, and he had a
story to share, "Last night I noticed that the dance floor was too small and a few of the special needs
students just couldn't get on. So I grabbed a bunch of my friends, and we started dancing in a little
circle around them. Everyone had a great time." Then, he paused for a reflective moment, and asked me,
"But I felt so good about doing that. Do you think I was being selfish?"
What a profound question. What Neil experienced was the fact that when we give, we receive many times
over.
Or as the Dalai Lama once put it, "Be Selfish, Be Generous.” It is in giving that we receive.
When we think of generosity, we typically think of it as a zero sum game. If I give you a dollar, that’s one
less dollar for me. The inner world, though, operates with an entirely different set of rules. The
boundaries aren’t so easy to decipher. Your state of being inherently affects my state of being. This isn’t
feel-good talk. It’s actual science. Research shows that, in close proximity, when people feel connected,
their individual heartbeats actually start to synchronize - even with zero physical contact. In
neuroscience, the discovery of mirror neurons has shown us that we literally do feel each other’s pain -
and joy.
And joy is *definitely* not a zero-sum game. The law of abundance says that if I give you a smile, that's
not one less smile for me.
The more I smile, the more I *do* smile. The more I love, the more love I have to give. So, when you give
externally, you receive internally. How do the two compare? That's a question only you can answer for
yourself, and that answer will keep changing as your awareness deepens.
Yet this much is clear: if you only focus on the externals, you’ll live your life in the deadening pursuit of
power and products. But if you stay in touch with your inner truth, you will come alive with joy, purpose,
and gratitude. You will tap into the law of abundance.
May you discover that to be truly selfish, you must be generous. In giving, may you fully experience what
it means to receive.
The Third Key Is To Dance
Our biggest problem with giving and receiving is that we try and track it. And when we do that, we lose
the beat.
The best dancers are never singularly focused on the mechanics of their movements. They know how to
let go, tune into the rhythm and synchronize with their partners.
It’s like that with giving too. It's a futile exercise to track who is getting what. We just have to dance.
Take one of my friends for example, a very successful entrepreneur.
Along his journey, he realized that it’s not just enough, as the cliché goes, to find your gifts. Gifts are
actually meant to be *given.*
In his daily life, he started cultivating some beautiful practices of generosity. For instance, every time he
walked into a fancy restaurant, he told the waiter to find a couple that is most madly in love. "Put their
tab on my bill, and tell them a stranger paid for their meal, with the hope that they pay it forward
somewhere somehow," he would say. Being a fan of Batman, he took his anonymity seriously: "If anyone
finds out it was me, the deal is off."
Many restaurants, and waiters, knew him for this. And as a food connoisseur, some of his favorite places
were also quite pricey - upwards of a couple hundred bucks per person.
On one such day, he walks into a nice restaurant and does his usual drill. The person serving him
obliges. However, this time, the waiter comes back with a counter request. "Sir, I know you like to be
anonymous, but when I told that couple about the tab being covered, the woman just started sobbing. In
fact, it’s been ten minutes and she's still tearing up. I think it would make her feel better if you were to
just introduce yourself, just this once."
Seeing this, he agrees to break his own cardinal rule and walks over to introduce himself. "M'aam, I was
only trying to make your day. If it has brought up something, I'm so sorry." The woman excitedly says,
"Oh no, not at all. You’ve just made my year, maybe my life. My husband and I, well, we work at a small
nonprofit with physically challenged kids, and we have been saving up all year to have this meal here. It
is our one year marriage anniversary today.” After a pause, she continues, “We always serve others in
small ways, but to receive a kind act like this on our special day, well, it’s just an overwhelming
testimonial that what goes around comes around. It renews our faith in humanity. Thank you. Thank you
*SO* much."
All of them were in tears. They kept in touch, he joined their board and they are friends to this day.
Now, in that scenario, who was the giver? Who was the receiver? And more importantly, does it even
matter? Dancing tells us to stop keeping track.
Sometimes you're giving and sometimes you're receiving, but it doesn't really matter because the real
reward of that give and take doesn’t lie in the value of what’s being exchanged. The real reward lies in
what flows between us – our connection.
Conclusion
So, my dear friends, there you have it. The bad news is that we're in the middle of a crisis of
disconnection, and the good news is that each and every one of you has the capacity to repair the web -
to give, to receive and to dance.
Sometime last year, I spontaneously treated a homeless woman to something she really wanted - ice-
cream. We walked into a nearby 7-11, she got her ice-cream and I paid for it. Along the way, though, we
had a great 3-minute chat about generosity and as we’re leaving the store, she said something
remarkable: "I'd like to buy you something. Can I buy you something?" She empties her pockets and
holds up a nickel. The cashier looks on, as we all share a beautiful, awkward, empathy-filled moment of
silence. Then I hear my voice responding, “That’s so kind of you. I would be delighted to receive your
offering. What if we pay-it-forward by tipping this kind cashier who has just helped us?” Her face breaks
into a huge smile. “Good idea,” she says while dropping the nickel into the tip-jar.
No matter what you have, or don’t have, we can all give. The good news is that generosity is not a luxury
sport.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said it best, when he said, "Everyone can be great, because everyone can
serve." He didn't say, "You have to be smart to serve." Or "You have to be famous to serve." Or "You have to be rich to serve." No, he said, "*Everybody* can be great, because *everybody* can serve. You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You don't need to know the second law of
thermodynamics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love."
Harker Class of 2013, may you ALL find greatness in service to life. May you all give, receive - and never,
ever, stop dancing.
Reading Makes A Country Great MY PET GOAT Emergency 911 The Terror War begins Ignorance is Bliss stand Proud and United rally around the Flag cross your heart swear to Sacrifice thank the least among you for their military home invasion mass murder Service keeping Authority placated rock the Vote respect the Law and State's Finest army of police who serve and protect them, Respect the Honor and Authority of the blind justice arbitrated by ritual black robed Judges and the prejudiced juries of peers any skilled Liar can persuade to Verdict The educated are educated to Accept The Free are not Brave enough to Resist Swear to tell the Truth so help you God is an Obscenity and offensive to a populace bursting with the enlightenment of Science, the premise that Flesh is the Origin of Species and Intelligence a side effect of gas Love thy Leader Hate thy neighbor Kill and chain thy neighbor Earn your Keep Pay your Taxes Death is certain It is not the size of the horn but how it's used that betrays best gets praised for elite public service Performance How fortunate it is for leaders that men do not think, Hitler intimated, forthcoming as any candidate for Office who smiles kissing maggot babies and shaking fools hands telling each in line thanks for their support couldn't do this without them Hell hides behind details and simpering political correctness, kind words expressing best intentions the enemies of which are branded crazy and evil and dealt with. How fortunate men do not think. Lest leaders and the Hell they maintain be naked by Light of the Truth. You can handle the Truth. You can be brave and free. It's these so called elite who can't. Never ask what they can do for you or you for them. Don't give up your food stamps just yet they trade for drugs just don't Serve them, Loyalty to them is so universal I am ignored and insulted. In Contempt. That's the price of Love. Let's change that. Perception is reality is their constant refrain. It is not. Reality is this fraction of a single percent of the population is a basket of deplorables in perpetual conspiracy to violate and ruin every human being on Earth. It's shocking and horrific but people can handle the Truth. Here is Wisdom: Had a customer tonight guy in his sixties cropped back hair going gray one of those Freddy Mercury mustaches adopted by law enforcement to remind everyone they're tops cocksuckers not pigs bc pigs don't have mustaches. he was wearing a black tshirt and jeans, never seen him before, recognize most of the customers, we have the same regulars rotating through for the most part. He came in right after I did, like my second grill order after clocking in. Gave me the stinkeye, and instead of going to sit in the dining room until his order was called he stayed in the lobby, got behind the Pepsi ketchup fridge by register, from the nose up visible over the fridgetop. I was on second flip before I noticed him again, glaring at me still. Eye contact, rage in his eyes. Made his burgers to perfection, ignoring him but for sidelong peeks to see if he still there; he was still there looking pissed off. I strongly suspect him to have been involved with lie enforcement, that or ive got one of those faces brings out the hate in frustrated Dom bondage specialists. kept my face expressionless, sent the burgers out and he left not long after. Felt the loathing in the air leave with him. He hates me for my freedom, like to put me in cuffs and bugger me into some Respect for his Authority lavished from God unto Moses unto the Chosen People, the Elite, who gifted us all with the world's two biggest religions Islam and Christianity to refer to in the establishent of State, Islamic States still widely fundamentalist in extrapolations and ammendments to the fundamentals Law, even today stones striking pleading girls in the face until the glistening bone pulp shows, eyeball popped out shattered socket debt paid for her adultry of being raped by a man she wasn't married to, lacivious temptress women not tolerated, kept virtuous by Ordained killers sanctimonious witless butchers in judicious black robes black masks, love and peace delegates, spread the beautiful religion into Eastern Europe and jerusalm, effective Evangelical technique of the option to submit you are the slave of Allah, either submit or get your head looped off. Beautiful religion. The castles of Europe erected to fortify against the sacred Islamic state conquering all of Elite Europe, price of doing Business, business of giving people the business, keep them stoneage and in check until final act, today thousands of Muslim migrants fleeing Syria region where isis, the royal president, Russia and the United States are mass murdering the population in alternating sweeps all claiming success against the terrorists who are any one of the four mass destroyers depending on which regions fake news one watches, the cities in ruins, the people still left sparse and debilitated, the dregs, hundreds of thousands more turning sections of Germany France great Britain etc into ghettos, young girls being raped in public parks, a seven yo girl in France gang raped in Germany lone German teens stalked in the streets by packs of Muslim youth and beaten half to death teens boasting they will take multiple wives across region have dozens of children each and breed out the natives, conquer Europe with their cocks now that the dear leaders of the region had welcomed them in. Beautiful religion. on their knees five times a day to take a facefull of dirt groveling praises toward the black cube in Mecca which Abraham built and shat inside marking the turf, holy kabba, over ten feet tall and ten feet wide the wonder of the Islamic world which one day all of Islamic Europe shall pilgrimage to link arms and dance ring around the cubicle singing and shouting trampling each other then setting off across hard desert terrain, many every haj die along the route hail Allah that the prophet Mahomet, may he rest in stink took wandering the sand ocean from sand dune to sand valley to sand mount where pilgrims collapse into the sand and commune with Allah catching spiderwebs of shade from the spray of spindly limbed trees rising several feet high here and there, terrain as beautiful as Islam itself and straight to Judgement for those sun dried brain fried dead before completing the last leg of the blessed trudge to the sacrificial slaughter barns where depending on what slaves of Allah can afford to slice the throat of a variety of animals await blood ritual, goats camels sheep sand chickens and coming soon pigs once the half breed desert princes of Frankfurt introuce fat juicy pork weenies into the Islamic diet, blonde haired blue eyed pink bellied pigs recognized to be far too majestic to be interbred with Jews, fine swine imported from outside the East where the scruffy big snout kosher breed forages in feral packs, hear them oinking Hebrew and Yiddish gibberish rooting in alley trash like dogs, dirtiest animals in all of creation, howling and squealing together during crawl in place borg prayers tuned in to Abraham's outhouse ever amid ring around the square dancing, stumbling, trampled underfoot weaklings hoe down haj stop in the stadium built around the squat edifice that thousands may sit and cheer rendering inaudible the tinny prayers from around the globe every couple hours, dogs howling offended every prayer, kick the snarling curs at risk of losing toes and sandles get tangled up in black man dress and fall down surrounded by curly tailed rabbi and black dogs foaming at the mouth eyes rolling from echoes of lalalalalalalala eeeeeek eeeeeeek eeeeeeek barnyardesque broadcasts from loud speakers leading the haj hails between free time to marry and divorce multiple times a day and trade goats for girls to marry and divorce trade back for chickens or a dozen eggs if she's missing ears tip of her nose or digits from administering divine law rehabilitation mutilations, sometimes new divorcees only fetch a bucket of fertile shit, hobbled hunchback prolapsed asshole tounge sliced into fork for her hissing disobedience to swallow the donkey load of bountiful seed diligently fed her everyday in lieu of lunch meanwhile back at the last stop of holy haj long walk baby animals and ton tall spitting camels shriek and wail, hawk lunger loads of camel snot pink with slashed throat blood spew onto the walls, slick spots on the straw, bled out into tubs and running down beards drank in hot clotted toasts to Allah who the sacrificed animals were stacked like cordwood into earthen pits and burned to appease blessings to all and to all a good time at the hotel after parties where newly married couples meet, consumate, get divorced and the just single ladies reintroduced to next end of haj celebratent to be smitten and fallen in love until the boredom of domestic life after orgasm left him dissatisfied with this woman who used to be useful but went back to the singles mixer sore and cooperative awaiting true love perhaps next bus in full of blood spattered fresh inducties into the walkabout God's country for days purification event everyone owed it themselves to do at least once a lifetime to truly get the most out of Islam the impending new religion of the well served everywhere from Africa to Piccadilly square, to be renamed Mahomet Kaba King Boulevard erected in the center of the square a scale replica of the Kaba with Mahomet himself weilding scrimtar of faith from head to toe dressed in black mounted upon his goat horse chimera Pegasus thingy reared up like a reindeer representing the flight taken to heaven to lead the prayer circle in heaven where all had deferred to him to lead the prayer circle of Prophets in Allah's den, Jesus fresh as the Daisy he'd been since the day he'd cleverly avoided crucifixion by Jerry curling his big black bushy beard and sneaking out of town on his gf's ass while another fellow, whose beard was styled similarly to his and who had assembled a small crowd outside town to demonstrate a new stain removal product for even the toughest stains like days caked Hersey splats from loincloths see comes right out and with the herbal infused formula eliminates some of the stench of urine baked in since pissing it in a wine induced stupor earlier that afternoon as jews were known to do between assuming their posts begging for pennies outside the bank, that guy had looked and sounded like the upstart they were looking for and after his miracle product failed to impress the honorable pontus Pilate with any supernatural stain removal properties except when applied to soiled underpants, a demonstration he didn't need to see twice since his underpants indeed came out clean the first attempt, hardly a miracle but in a good mood since his ass felt and smelled so fresh after the man who kept persisting I am not the Jew you were looking for I'm just an alchemist with a revolutionary new product for removing stains the secret formula is just leavening soda and grapeseed pumice mixed with water and lavender leaves ofc it's not a miracle I am not the king of the universe I've never even met the guy no one does but he doesn't travel alone with a bucket of my new secret formula removing shit stains from underwear, he's a stand up magician or something, heard there's strippers too, Im just a humble asshole freshener your honor and feeling magnanimous floral fragrance of his anus clinging to the finger he scratched along his craft to sniff while contemplating opens the honorable Pilate said let's let these Jews outside demanding their picked pockets wallets and jewelery back stolen by the whores and at least a dozen confidence men known to be traveling with this wanted man who said fuck the centurions fuck the flag fuck hannaka fuck Elysian fields fuck the Senate fuck caesaer fuck Rome fuck caiphus fuck the Torah fuck yo mama and fuck all of you cringing sex slave submissives bending over and getting fucked everyday to earn wheat penny Caesars that aren't worth a tin shit except for your belief in Caesar says, Caesar says hail Caesar I say fuck Caesar render unto casear these piles of Caesars ugly cunt lips embossed nickles and dimes and shove em up Caesars ass let him go pawn these pieces of shit off on some other idiots bc we're Jews brothers and sisters and Jews don't need no stinking sick economy sicker fools who'd diminish themselves by going along with this madness, Caesar is a paper god you drunks this money charade is just a game and your the losers for playing so fuck him fuck Rome and fuck all these fake ass God's and curly tailed shit eating elites got us all playing along counting stacks of worthless legal tender whoopty Doo what caesar says and fuck his court of whimsy and don't bend over only ever acquire what he gives you and dont obey every stupid lie he tells you is the law, tell him to take this Nation of lies and the shiney lie sanctioned house chips he rode in on and shove it up his ass bc if you don't you'll all be spending your lives sucking Satan's cock doing as Satan says and get paid in Satan tokens worth your life loyalty and labors and in return a flag to admire and fight for a song of the murder glory of this shithole to cross your hearts and sing that all who hear it know how unified and proud you are and you'll be paid to with every Betrayal his crown can afford to give you now that you've given him lives to spend. Have a free flag coffin shroud a medal of Honor for service unto Casear human sacrife pin and a bedpan full of shiney Benjamin's to spend at super Caesars super savers everywhere Rome is maurading, hail Caesar full of grace give you nothing give him everything and that sumbitch drugged the watered down wine him and his whores and degenerates robbed us and fuck yes that's him I recognize the beard kill him set Barbarossa free and so despite insisting he was not their King nor a crook the wrong man was crucified that day and Jesus told this straight to Mahomet so you know it's true bc Mahomet word is gold then Jesus said I am the slave of Allah and Mo he's instructed me to let his biggest ho Mo lead the ass in the air prayers from now on bc I'm always broke have never tipped a red Satan cent to tithe and insist that Allah sound a dry heave so does every single thing you said Mo so you're deffo the man to lead prayer to that bullshitters bullshit, guess it keep you busy long enough not to butcher or mutilate anyone for five minutes at least. Raise your Voice be offended by this beastial religion we're diminished under by these sneering aristocrats who practice it, they're the crew can't handle the Truth. Lies are all they got. Be eloquent. Knowing and not choosing a side is just a mess. I bring you. Pallid incompotence hanging from a mic stand. Prime example of why there's no having it both ways. Fuck it 🌊 https://g.co/kgs/ACnHqS