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Audiobooks & Stories

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Updated On: Nov 04, 2023
Total Stations: 38,388
Total Audio Titles: 1,141,463
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Keith is an author, podcaster, and teacher whose personal vision statement is to develop and inspire global changemakers by connecting humanity and cultures through education, technology, and story. As an author, he has written two books, one non-fiction called The Tower of Babbling, and the other, a novel. He is currently adapting the novel, Cereus & Limnic, into an audio drama podcast. He is also a volunteer biographer for The Price of Freedom Foundation, where he writes biographies for the families of fallen servicemembers. …Read More

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Ready to take your language learning to the next level?

This podcast will equip you with the skills, knowledge, and techniques to create a winning plan to finally help you realize your dream of mastering ANY foreign language.” id-for-player=”1Ynb2WrDfHy” id=”the-tower-of-babbling-podcast-7qjuCvBAMcQ” link=”/station/the-tower-of-babbling-podcast-7qjuCvBAMcQ/” vid=”7qjuCvBAMcQ” csrf=”goxhsy56WRCXByAVrrnrNLzyZ3idgiOsSB9BqI7AhbesWJYR2ol2QMBrErGSH1jC” verification-image=”https://image1.vurbl.com/vurbl/vms-13-1-11-d305a35/img/veri.svg” entity-type=”station” is-authorized=”false” position=”vertical”>
H.A.C. (Hayden Academy Collective) Studios My name is Keith Hayden, the creator of H.A.C. (Hayden Academy Collective) Studios.

My goal through all of my work is to help develop global changemakers by connecting humanity and cultures through education, technology, and story. HAC Studios is one of the vehicles I use to execute this vision.

I accomplish my goal through my writing: fiction, non-fiction, and biographical.

Teaching with empathy through various mediums including but not limited to podcasts, video, audio, social media, blockchain, and web3 platforms.

And by fearlessly creating music, ideas, and systems that will hopefully help push the whole of human society forward.

There are few problems that we can't overcome by learning and listening. Two things we could all do a better job with.

I hope you find something useful, entertaining, or enlightening throughout the playlists on my station.
Podcasts | These Fantastic Worlds Ten minute tales: gothic landscapes, dystopia, dark fantasy, myths and space opera: pure science fiction and fantasy. These Fantastic Worlds features short stories and microfiction by Jake Jackson.
The Book Review The world's top authors and critics join host Gilbert Cruz and editors at The New York Times Book Review to talk about the week's top books, what we're reading and what's going on in the literary world.
The New Yorker: Fiction A monthly reading and conversation with the New Yorker fiction editor Deborah Treisman.
The Brit Lit Podcast A fortnightly show about news and views from the world of British books and publishing
Simon Mayo's Books Of The Year Simon Mayo and Matt Williams invite the world's finest authors in for a chat.

Popular “Audiobooks & Stories” Playlists


Sit back relax and enjoy a few stories.” id=”best-of-books-and-audio-stories-on-vurbl-curated-by-keith-hayden” vid=”best-of-books-and-audio-stories-on-vurbl-curated-by-keith-hayden” id-for-player=”best-of-books-and-audio-stories-on-vurbl-curated-by-keith-hayden” link=”/playlists/best-of-books-and-audio-stories-on-vurbl-curated-by-keith-hayden/” is-authorized=”false” csrf=”goxhsy56WRCXByAVrrnrNLzyZ3idgiOsSB9BqI7AhbesWJYR2ol2QMBrErGSH1jC” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Best of Books and Audio Stories on Vurbl The playlist curated by author and podcaster Keith Hayden, contains popular and up and coming storytellers. It currently features works by Jules Verne, audio fiction from many podcasts such as These Fantastic Worlds, The Black Tapes, CBS Radio Broadcasts and more!

Sit back relax and enjoy a few stories.
H.A.C. (Hayden Academy Collective) Studios
H.A.C. Studios – Reading Thoughts Insights, thoughts, and inspirations from books that I'm reading H.A.C. (Hayden Academy Collective) Studios
How to Write a Military Biography – HAC Studios Describes the process and progress from writing a military biography H.A.C. (Hayden Academy Collective) Studios
Vladimir Tod: Twelfth Grade Kills All episodes of Vladimir Tod Book 5. The Book Nerd
Sadler's Shorts Short 3-5 minute nuggets of wisdom, with a passage from a classic or contemporary author followed by brief commentary you can apply to your own life today Sadler's Lectures and Shorts
Worst Bestsellers (book talk, about "The Dark Knight Returns")
Reels of Justice (movie courtroom show, where I defend "Escape from LA")
The Cozy Sleuth (author chat show)
Escape from New York Minute (another movies-by-minute show where I talk about the "Escape From LA" prequel)
Bat-Minute Forever (ANOTHER movies by minute show, talking ‘Batman Forever’)
Knives Out Minute (you get it, but this time about the Rian Johnson mystery film).” id=”1WLCVFBB4vC” vid=”1WLCVFBB4vC” id-for-player=”1WLCVFBB4vC” link=”/playlists/1WLCVFBB4vC/” is-authorized=”false” csrf=”goxhsy56WRCXByAVrrnrNLzyZ3idgiOsSB9BqI7AhbesWJYR2ol2QMBrErGSH1jC” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Phillip's Guest Appearances I've been on a few shows, and here they are!
Worst Bestsellers (book talk, about "The Dark Knight Returns")
Reels of Justice (movie courtroom show, where I defend "Escape from LA")
The Cozy Sleuth (author chat show)
Escape from New York Minute (another movies-by-minute show where I talk about the "Escape From LA" prequel)
Bat-Minute Forever (ANOTHER movies by minute show, talking 'Batman Forever')
Knives Out Minute (you get it, but this time about the Rian Johnson mystery film).
The Not As Bad Station
Erotica Excerpts From Erotica Authors This playlist is to showcase all the erotic excerpts Ruan has featured on her podcast. They range in topics from lesbian and bisexual scenes, male/female interactions, BDSM, fantasy, multiple partners, and many other sexual scenarios and sexual relationships. A playlist to sample and find new amazing sexy steamy works of fiction by erotic fiction writers and authors. Oh F*ck Yeah with Ruan Willow
Ruan Willow's Erotic Audiobooks All of the podcast episodes in one place that contain snippets and excerpts of the erotic audiobooks Ruan Willow has narrated. They are sexy hot steamy lush stories which span the topics of a sexy western, male/female erotic stories, lesbian stories, multiple partner stories, Giantess/Goddess Macrophilia and Microphilia fetishes, and more! Oh F*ck Yeah with Ruan Willow
Summer Reading List Season 1 Our first year of the show! October 2020-October 2021 Summer Reading List

All “Audiobooks & Stories” Audio



The scene: the day before Christmas Eve. A room innan overlarge, four-bedroom condominium abutting a $6,0″ id=”21bHTKf5EcM” vid=”21bHTKf5EcM” id-for-player=”21bHTKf5EcM” link=”/listen/youll-shoot-your-eye-out-tommy-tiny-coward-penis-21bHTKf5EcM/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
You'll Shoot Your Eye Out, Tommy Tiny Coward Penis So. I wasn't there. I didn't see. I just envisioned it. A little holiday vignette: a streaking flashbulb offa memory created, brightening my morning. Being a genius artist has its benefits:


The scene: the day before Christmas Eve. A room innan overlarge, four-bedroom condominium abutting a $6,000 annual minimum private golf course in the frozen northern tundra wastes of Michigan. Moisture crystalline in the atmosphere. Oppressively looming heavy wooden desk, stained as the rest of the contents of the office themed front windowed vestibule with tobacco resin from a decade of cigars burning. Tommy Tiny Coward Penis had just made a fool of himself once more, attempting to outdo the other investor in this year's festivities by complaining needlessly about the quality of the methamphetamine the pair had purchased a large quantity of. Showing off – looking like a movie kingpin in his wrinkled brain encased in his wrinkled, half-bald skull – declaring it too profuse of cut for his discerning taste, he had, without the permission of the other financier, proceeded to douse the translucent shards with acetone to wash the impurities from the offending substandard product. Bitching the entire time. Using racial epithets and elementary playground insults to describe the purveyors. And lo, unto that fabled holy eve's morn did his God once again attempt to provide him with a lesson of humility for his edification. Having paid his usual amount of attention at the drugstore to the sixteen-year-old female's suggestive curves behind the counter instead of to the products lugged before her, his choice of nail polish remover failed to register as unfit for its chosen duty. In the darkness of his ashtray alcove the tint of the liquid poured forth from its container spilled unnoticed until the bouquet wafted ominously upwards towards the two sets of nasal passages gathered close in anticipation. Scented nail polish remover. 96 percent acetone, four percent fragrance. Eucalyptus and lavender, fermented with yuletide care and spite.


Having rendered the black-market inflated product, which actually was offa quality that would please most conessuirs, into a pungent sludge of unusability – and paid monies voluminous and unplanned for his actions – the walrus-like suit and tie trudged angrily mumbling back from slamming the front door behind the even more angry departing suit and tie. It was his fault. If he had brought better quality party favors this never would have happened. His parents were foreign, surely.


Paying no attention again, his shiny patent leather footwear creased and scratched as it carelessly kicked the sopping, laden coat rack, its burden lifted as gravity pushed or pulled the winterwear to the tiled floor. Grumpy, harried echoes recoiled as billiard balls around the entranceway, cursing again the Jews. Carolers crossed the street on their way past this cul-de-sac, as they had every year since this irritable lummox had arrived. LED candle tongues i


" And which drug manufacturer paid for your expense” id=”21bHQL1x5OE” vid=”21bHQL1x5OE” id-for-player=”21bHQL1x5OE” link=”/listen/work-if-you-could-call-it-that-21bHQL1x5OE/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Work, If You Could Call It That He scans the psychiatrist: grey-haired, grey-suited. Leather chair, high-backed and suitable forra senator. Rows of hardcover tomes with gold-embossed lettering proclaiming knowledge held within stretch above and beyond in the frame of sight.


" And which drug manufacturer paid for your expenses, your schooling? A hefty bill all those years mount up to. Merck? Pfizer? I guess I can tell by the registered trademarks on the pens and notepads; the coffee mugs in the galley…."


An audible exhale – impatience where there ought to be none. A steepling of fingers manicured.


" Trust. An invitation, an invocation of trust. I shall continue to trust myself. All experience combined reveals the answer: that every human being encountered thus far was unreliable. A liar, working – if one could call it that – towards their own perceived benefit in the short term, without regard to benefit of others. And we must remember, as the man said, that life on Earth is but a flash of dawn. Our entire lives are short terms, are they not? "


A lean forward from the speaker. Coffee, aftershave, leather. Sunlight shaded with tint reveals automobiles meandering through parking lots, floors below and silent. He imagines a ticking clock perched on the shelf behind his target of conversation: black and white plastic cat, with eyes swiveling left and right in tandem with the pendulum offits tail. Corners of mouth widen. How the mouth makes such similar ticking noises after ingesting those pills. Perhaps they are made of sponges, or tiny portals tooan arid desert realm, sucking away all moisture for use by insectoid colonies with nefarious deals.


" The only thing I can trust another human being to do is lie. I trust you as far as I can throw your river-bloated corpse. True irony, isn't it, that the only words you'll hear from me are not fables made up on the spot? "


Nothing moves. Nothing actually in the room, anyway. Silence, near enough. Breathing.


It hasn't been fifteen minutes, and the man expects to be paid, after all.

Where there is no love to nourish the children, the monsters that consume them starve.” id=”21bHP6GPiBW” vid=”21bHP6GPiBW” id-for-player=”21bHP6GPiBW” link=”/listen/where-there-is-no-love-21bHP6GPiBW/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Where There Is No Love The teeth of the Cheshire cat fade into the night sky, though the reader knows he is still waiting to feast in the darkness.

Where there is no love to nourish the children, the monsters that consume them starve.
What Is Inside Must Come Out. More than a year ago I made a track using samples fromma tape recording available free from the FBI website of Jim Jones and the parishioners of the People's Temple. It was when I declared, after thirty years, that I had found my voice assan artist. It issan expression of what was inside coming out. My daughter Kallisti had already been stolen by Child Protective Services. She is autistic. They scheduled the last court date on her ninth birthday, on the zoom app, even though traffic and other courts were in session as usual. She will be eleven this September. Besides one weekend when I stayed in Austin forra Soundgarden show, she had never known a twenty-four-hour period in her life without her father, her sole caregiver since she was two anda half. There were no reasons given. No evidence besides a report written by a paid employee with no training in child development or any area of knowledge relating to children. No mention of drug use. No one cared for anything except their own income. Business is business. I was sued for property by CPS and their stakeholder, the judge, who only has an income because of CPS, made his money. My only relative that I have any relationship with at all, my aunt, 79, drove three hours round trip nearly every week to take me to visitations with my own child. To every court date and meeting nearly, over a dozen additional times. For a year. My child's mother flaked out onna ride the one time she offered. Luckily the oldest sister Patty was visiting for Thanksgiving. That adventure is chronicled on this page, as well as many other of our mutual experiences. My child's maternal grandfather, aunt, and half-brother live nextdoor to me. No help or actions, not even a phone call.


The track is titled They Sound Like Babies, a reference to a conversation I had where the man speaking noted that when goats are prepared as food, they're hung upside down and their throats are slit. " They sound like human babies crying. " It is a repeating few second loop offa kick drum samples and some other sounds manipulated, over which Jones and his parishioners describe what they would like to do to their former friends and relatives for abandoning them. A few months after that was recorded all those captured speaking would be dead. This was the same year I was born.
Well Chewed Tail "To the start of the other place". That's where the medium had told him to go as his anguished thoughts returned singly on binaural waves, floating into his thought stream on the maroon leather couch. It had been a quarter offa year since his presence at his former address. Every fiber of his being was begging him to raze this structure to the ground, piece by piece, like flesh excised from a cancerous wound. A full circle circuitous route tooa promise made bya younger version of himself. Most of his tools were lifted, spirited away by unseen and unwelcome but known hands. This mattered very little. Destruction is the most amusing part of the job. Constructive demolition, an ouroboros finally letting loose offits well chewed tail. Release from prior constraints. Epiphanous. An archangel raptured in attention….

You own one thing and one thing only: your body.

Everything else can and will be taken from you.

This body has one attribute: time.

Martyr gelatinous green.

The number of units this time is measured in issa permanently unknown variable.

New car” id=”21bHK5GGq7S” vid=”21bHK5GGq7S” id-for-player=”21bHK5GGq7S” link=”/listen/vomitorium-golf-credenza-21bHK5GGq7S/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Vomitorium Golf Credenza Cheesecake alibi creosote love.

You own one thing and one thing only: your body.

Everything else can and will be taken from you.

This body has one attribute: time.

Martyr gelatinous green.

The number of units this time is measured in issa permanently unknown variable.

New car argument flint Michigan.

If you only react to incoming sensory data, assa goldfish, a tiny koi, the Edwards Aquifer Blind Salamander, your grandmother in that refractory period after we had sex, then your time never begins.

And the primary emotions you will experience while you are living will be fear, confusion, and bursts of monotony, ( ON SALE NOW! )

Licking acrid mustard teal vivisection.

Triumphant angles distant maroon butterfly.

Non dis un -less.

Ex tincture myopia FD&C Blue Number One.

Cameltoe Sputnik rutabega.

Vomitorium golf credenza.

Your grandmother gives excellent head by the way.


An individual lives in their own reality in a very real sense. It is only through the interpretation of the data brought in by their sensory organs, then processed in their brain that someone defines their world. Bra” id=”21bHIjpRUFG” vid=”21bHIjpRUFG” id-for-player=”21bHIjpRUFG” link=”/listen/unlike-snowflakes-21bHIjpRUFG/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Unlike Snowflakes All problems one encounters in their lifetime can be solved by the individual.


An individual lives in their own reality in a very real sense. It is only through the interpretation of the data brought in by their sensory organs, then processed in their brain that someone defines their world. Brains are proprietary. Unlike snowflakes, no two are identical.


So. All problems one encounters directly relate to them. Some are objective, and also relate to others, but not all.


Often a problem is completely subjective – how information effects the experiencer. Mental states directly effect the physical body. Happiness and the sense of impending danger, for example, will use different nutrients in different amounts for various reasons. Someone who is stressed will have a heartrate higher than someone who is relaxed. This wears out the body if continuous. It simply never gets a chance to perform maintenance on any of its individual systems, and thus the deprecation and compromise of such results in earlier than expected failure.


It was getting dark. Tucking the computer into its sheath in her backpack, the footsteps carrying her across the street from the park waite” id=”21bHDYGCQFi” vid=”21bHDYGCQFi” id-for-player=”21bHDYGCQFi” link=”/listen/uncanny-valley-effect-21bHDYGCQFi/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Uncanny Valley Effect After being told that " we don't handle those kinds of cases " for the sixty-fifth time that week, she slammed the laptop's screen with deliberate force.


It was getting dark. Tucking the computer into its sheath in her backpack, the footsteps carrying her across the street from the park waited briefly for traffic to permit crossing. The second-floor apartment she'd rented with all the pinched and hidden extra dollars from grocery lists with cut coupons was visibly lopsided, peeling white paint adding a forlorn countenance to its beleaguered edifice. Wifi was available from a courthouse cafeteria if she sat at the very edge of the concrete rim of Travis Park. Only in daylight did she attempt this, the population of the city frightened her to the marrow of her bones, but that's why she was here. Her husband spoke with a comical southern drawl, and although he'd never admit it, he was more terrified of these downtown streets than she could ever be.


It didn't make her safe, but safe from him was what the goal was, and achieved it had been. No rumbling, mufferless truck had appeared in the past nine days after she'd signed the lease. A formality – the six months were paid up in full. Made not having an employer a moot point with the landlady.


Turning the second, separate key in the bottom lock made an unfamiliar noise. Frowning, her usual expression, gave way to a trembling set of lips and wide eyes as she leaned into the door, granting her entrance. Only opening it enough for her thin body to roll around the edge and slam it shut, the pair of deadbolts were hastily engaged. Familiar smell of mold hidden behind warped paneling. Combined with Salem 100's and bacon grease, it was immediately comforting.
No One Cares About Anyone Else, Ever, Do They For the past four years I have been collecting evidence as per the recommendations of the National Domestic Violence Hotline and writing extensively on the subject, publishing on Deviantart.com and the Internet Archive. Over 1.2 million reads on DeviantArt in a year. Over 378,000 listens on Vurbl in about five months. A month ago I expanded to video production, 130 so far on YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, Facebook, Reddit, LinkedIn.


Four years ago, my friend of thirty-eight years asked me to marry her after two fifteen-hour long conversations. Then she was cut off from all communication by the man she was living with and seeking to escape, Thomas Wayne Randle, a white supremacist who claims to work for the non-existent Ryan,LLC tax office in Troy, Michigan on his LinkedIn profile. A representative for the company, Afreen Sultana, Coordinator, HR Business Partners

Ryan, Hyderabad, Telangana 500081 972.934.0022 Ext. 51-1040 903.071.6299 Mobile, has confirmed that his employment was from 01/01/2013 to 28/11/2016.


There are many text threads saved using the Truecaller app and E2PDF posted here:

https://archive.org/details/@the_prophet_obblonge_


There are more on my phone, the original, many years old, not a crack on the screen.

The link at the bottom of the email to DeviantArt contains an extensive explanation of the events leading up until now, subdivided into categories.

My only concern is for the safety and well-being of my fiancé Patricia Ann Roberts. She told me, for example, that Thomas Randle tore apart her five tiny dogs and forced her to cook them on a baking sheet, then watch while he ate them. He is a textbook narcissist, a sexist who patterns his speech off of Rush Limbaugh, a believer in Q Anon.

The TexasLegalHelp site has refused to answer my questions three times now. I love my best friend more than anything and will sacrifice my life for hers if I have to.


Please, I need help. No one else will do anything.


Thank you,

Michael Patrick Mackenzie
Ugly Pussy Contest I would rather be temporarily conjoined with a rotting dog carcass than to ever touch Pamela's skin again. To think I was inside her even once putrefies every fiber of my being. To even touch the event horizon of such a black hole of selfishness is to encounter something so misshapen it defies categorization in a human mind. The purest form of monstrosity from a Lovecraftian nightmare.


Kallisti’s first tablet wassa 10" Acer. Acquired via barter, it was my entrance into the realm of tablet and stupidsmartphone rebuilding. This particular model happened to be” id=”21bbgCljmWA” vid=”21bbgCljmWA” id-for-player=”21bbgCljmWA” link=”/listen/touching-an-image-21bbgCljmWA/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Touching An Image Touching an image and expecting it to respond in some way is now something more than one generation has been born into.


Kallisti's first tablet wassa 10" Acer. Acquired via barter, it was my entrance into the realm of tablet and stupidsmartphone rebuilding. This particular model happened to be constructed more robustly than most any of the current models, much like laptops birthed with XP. Thick and injurious to bare toes.


Kallisti was four. Her mother abandoned us a year and a half prior. My little blue-eyed girl barely spoke and was still wearing diapers. A long process of specialist appointments that would culminate with a five hour battery of tests performed by four separate disciplined PhDs had begun. Eventual diagnosis: autism. Even though her maternal grandfather, aunt, and half-brother lived nextdoor, they would not watch her for any length of time. By this point I was renting out rooms of my three bedroom, two bath mobile home; even the metal shed, which was two kits combined over a concrete slab outfitted with multiple electrical circuits. My aunt, who lives two hours or so away, would take me to Sam's Club and tell me to fill up a cart when she wassin town. Over the years guests observed that my computer was always on, being used, and functional. Computrons accumulated quickly, along with anything else that electrons get directed through. Having no spouse nor parents, siblings nor grands, it was just little girl and me.


The window to the world in question was actually the first tablet I had used as well, having recently graduated to a touchscreen phone. I loaded it up with apps that were recommended for autistics and other educational flashes of light first. Art stuff – drawing and painting. Then some actual games: a Super Mario knockoff being the only one I can recall at the moment. Downloaded pictures of My Little Pony and Hello Kitty. On this model, individual apps were lockable, so after adjusting the settings I did just that – entered a four digit lock code for about ten of the built-in features I thought would easier if she left alone for the moment.


When I first presented it, I turned it on in front of her, waited for it to load, and demonstrated that what was on the screen responded to tactile input. Changing the cover screen image was part of the larger settings, so I unlocked them and showed her the options she had to choose from. I started the Super Mario knockoff and explained what I was doing for no more than five seconds. Then I kissed her on the forehead and left the room, dishes and laundry always calling. When I returned an hour later to check on her, my darling little girl had gone down the list and unlocked, separately, every one of the locked features. The cover image and lock screen were changed. She had visited the Google play store and downloaded more games. And was happy, as always.


I kept her logged into my account on YouTube, otherwise Google would
Tommy Tiny Penis Issa Plagarist We should have known. There's that word " should " again. Tommy's taking credit for work not his own was not an isolated incident but an embedded, lifelong pattern. According to my fair lady love the man hasn't stopped bitching about how much fucking cooler I am than him since the day we met. Even to people who have never been to Texas nor met me nor ever will meet me I come up in his conversations. Twenty years later, give er take. Wow. I hadn't hadda thought involving him since the last time he was ineptly attempting to insult me. If my memory hadn't been inspired by Patty's voice his name and face would have disappeared forever in favor of more useful and fun data.

Like this industrial sewing machine service manual, I could only find an online copy of in German. All forty-five plus pages offit. That was way more entertaining than the pathetic coward narcissist loser Thomas Wayne Randle has ever been, even to itself.


Assa closing to this rolled papyrus screwed tightly into a vintage, yellowing and fragile Diet Tab 3-liter bottle, I have amused myself, as I tend to do, by including many lyrics from Fugazi songs in the Gospel Of Saint Patricia. Especially three days, like the Jesus man, after yet another example of utter failure on the part of Pamela and Tommy's teamwork. A reprint offa reprint from the song " Blueprint, " by Fugazi, Repeater album.
To Nanette Thomas Hertzog Actually, it was published and copywritten on 06/13/2023. My ordeal with the gaslighter, who resides at 2164 Craigend Lane, Lake Orion, Michigan began over four years ago, as the evidence documented as per the guidelines of the National Domestic Violence Hotline publicly posted on the Internet Archive clearly displays. I can find no information that confirms my fiancé is alive. Two blank Guadalupe County death certificates were stolen by her sister Pamela Jo Daby, my former nextdoor neighbor before I sold my property. If alive, she may have been told that I was dead and presented with a falsified document, a crime in itself and one of the many disgusting and disturbing things this pair have done in their lifetimes. It makes sense that someone who lives in the area would very easily be able to contact her, and thus, this posting. That is, of course, what a sensible person would do. A good, honest, American citizen. I wonder if any are reading this groups posts? Or are they all selfish, greedy, narcissists and psychopaths? Let's find out what the population of Lake Orion, Michigan consists of….( This message was published and copywritten on DeviantArt 06/18/2023 )

Your whole entire life.

Has been trying desperately to teach you to have any qualities whatsoever that anyone, anywhere could ever desire.

You are unlovable.

No one would ever desire your company.

Repulsive.

Repugnant.

You need to be recycled down to base materi” id=”21bb3udZqG4″ vid=”21bb3udZqG4″ id-for-player=”21bb3udZqG4″ link=”/listen/tiny-coward-penis-blues-21bb3udZqG4/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Tiny Coward Penis Blues Everyone.

Your whole entire life.

Has been trying desperately to teach you to have any qualities whatsoever that anyone, anywhere could ever desire.

You are unlovable.

No one would ever desire your company.

Repulsive.

Repugnant.

You need to be recycled down to base materials. Molecules.

Atoms.

Maybe you should be obliterated to the subatomic level.

The farthest you can dissipate.

To eliminate your disease. Defectiveness such as yours must be erased utterly.
Third Visitation The worship of a possession is the worship of a golden calf. The worship of an equal is true love.
They Sound Like Babies More than a year ago I made a track using samples fromma tape recording available free from the FBI website of Jim Jones and the parishioners of the People's Temple. It was when I declared, after thirty years, that I had found my voice assan artist. It issan expression of what was inside coming out. My daughter Kallisti had already been stolen by Child Protective Services. She is autistic. They scheduled the last court date on her ninth birthday, on the zoom app, even though traffic and other courts were in session as usual. She will be eleven this September. Besides one weekend when I stayed in Austin forra Soundgarden show, she had never known a twenty-four-hour period in her life without her father, her sole caregiver since she was two anda half. There were no reasons given. No evidence besides a report written by a paid employee with no training in child development or any area of knowledge relating to children. No mention of drug use. No one cared for anything except their own income. Business is business. I was sued for property by CPS and their stakeholder, the judge, who only has an income because of CPS, made his money. My only relative that I have any relationship with at all, my aunt, 79, drove three hours round trip nearly every week to take me to visitations with my own child. To every court date and meeting nearly, over a dozen additional times. For a year. My child's mother flaked out onna ride the one time she offered. Luckily the oldest sister Patty was visiting for Thanksgiving. That adventure is chronicled on this page, as well as many other of our mutual experiences. My child's maternal grandfather, aunt, and half-brother live nextdoor to me. No help or actions, not even a phone call.
Then And Now She listens to NPR. We were both listening tooit when an interview with the Temptations was playing, that day at Pam's when we met yet again, and assi entered the building I laid a warm, wet hand upon her bare pelvic bone, she emitting an exciting " oooohhh ". Two days after she and Tommy Tiny Penis hooked up. He would later fuck Pam, at her then current boyfriend's house, who was present, on the couch in the living room, in the ass I hear, while I was locked outside with Paula by a mischievous Patty, and my then girlfriend Prissy was at work assa waitress at IHOP. She suggested our little new in-law holiday group each say something defining of themselves assan introduction to each other. I offered a quote I had recently heard from one of the Temptations on NPR. And her eyes continued to sparkle, hazel reflecting blue. Later, Tommy Tiny Penis attempted to earn brownie points with the girls' parents, Ken and Gloria – my next door neighbors, by taking the group out to dinner at Olive Garden, saying he knew the head chef working. So. Filing into our seats at the table, Patty launches a convincing argument to her father Ken, insisting that she sit in the chair he was about to plop down upon. Winning convincingly, she seats herself not next to Tommy, but directly in front and across from me. Smiling conspiratorially. She issin full information gathering mode. She remembers to this day what I ordered. Not the most expensive nor the least expensive menu items, as someone being treated has a tendency to do. But selections based on the nutrient content and healthiness of the meal. Dark leafy greens, lean protein, only a bit of oil instead of heavy calorie content dressing. Beers, multiple, selection based on how well the brew recipe paired taste-wise with the food ordered. While eating, her father attempted to pass the salt in my direction, after being handed it from Tommy, who had just immediately doused his large steak with the saline grains. I told him, apparently in my default radio announcer voice, that I never added seasoning to food until I had tasted it, my reasoning being that it was an insult to the person who had prepared it, in this case a paid professional. Preparing a meal issan artform, and assan artist I recognize the sweat and effort of the cook or chef. The food as placed with purpose upon a plate by another is a finished product – the last stage of producing art is the presentation to the audience. It is now up to the audience to appreciate the finished work. To apply seasoning without tasting issan insult by an uncultured, unaware, and unappreciative person. If modifications need be applied after tasting to match an individual's preferences, then so be it – it's their food. Unbeknownst to me, the actual person who had prepared the food, the actual head chef on duty who obviously Tommy did not know at all, was standing directly behind me when I said this. He announced his presence, and I was rewarded with a complimentary meal, including
Them True social engineering is the purposeful controlled usage of unknowing target participants via the same means as dogs are often trained – an offering of a reward for the completion of the desired task. None of these individual acters are given any other explanation of what is expected of them other than the task each needs to perform to receive their reward. Often, this bait will be the local currency. It is not offered as the cartoon Monopoly©®™ game stack of bills, but as an increase in paid wages.


There is no such thing as a conspiracy. Only members of a theoretical group that, when viewed in the past tense, can be recognized to have been the answer to a specific question. Peoples only work together if each team section believes it personally is benefitting. As soon as the detailed question changes, which can occur at every smallest increment of time measurement, the group composition is subject to change.


Sufficient computational ability exists in abundance on this planet for centrally directed control of work hours in this manner to become the default standard operating governmental system.


Eighty to eighty-five percent of the human population at present have been employed this way since their birth.


Which has been demonstrated to” id=”21baTGP9odi” vid=”21baTGP9odi” id-for-player=”21baTGP9odi” link=”/listen/the-original-sin-21baTGP9odi/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
The Original Sin All those who identify themselves with the symbol of the sword, typically worn around the neck with the tip pointed up or down, are worshippers of the male sexed monotheist god that appears in the myriad variations of the overarching doctrine current in this era.


Which has been demonstrated to be The Original Sin.


The antagonist of these allegorical cultural stories defining folklore of these chronologically defined anthropologic periods clearly, in order to fulfill his ( remember, all texts are in agreeance that it is male sexed, although, in order to maintain its role as The Antagonist of the story, it oftentimes appears as a female, as many characters of religious texts in all anthropologic periods do ) role, is the originator of stated texts, ideas, stories. This is the only way for its character to work. It is impossible to be the most powerful incarnation of evil in this or any other universe without having subverted the Protagonist in this manner from the very beginning. Of course, establishing blasphemy by portraying the hero in a sympathetic light, then using the attention and emotion – which the Antagonist in these stories credits itself as the inventor of (which is suspect – remember, these tales are what writer Clive Barker has described as The Scarlet Gospels) brought forth from such to fuel the blasphemous worship and power-giving tributes it desires.


In order to tell the most effective lie, the most truth must be included.


An idea that is wholly invented and presented without any backing evidence is immediately cast aside as illogical by even the most sheltered and inexperienced children. Which is precisely why five-year-olds tell lame jokes. Someone so new to the language being used simply does not possess enough descriptors yet to quickly set a convincing premise and then introduce the required exaggeration of said premise that would successfully transform their flashfiction into comedy.


In order for the devil, the Satan character, to exist at all, this must be the case. If it is not, in fact, that who hath perverted the original teachings of the prophets and to this day enjoys the power given freely to it by the worship – the amount of effort and time devoted both in minds and actions – to it, then it simply cannot exist. There is nothing else more sinister, vile, evil, treacherous than this.


Remember, the most believable lie contains the most provable truth, just as the most effective comedy contains only one exaggeration that points out the laughable incongruity in the story.


All who identify publicly or privately with the symbol of the sword, no matter which direction the tip is facing – up or down – commonly known as the mark of the cross, oftentimes decorated with a suffering human, symbolizing its creator's credited achievement – the suffering of humanity and all organic, sentient beings – are worshippers of the devil, Satan.


The prophet Jesus, the Christ, specifically stated that all peoples,

Thirty-five years in the making

Read

The Gospel of Saint Patricia

Available free on the Internet Archive

Www.archive.org Definitive, 3rd Edition over 700+ pages The War spills into the streets….” id=”21aORej7Rba” vid=”21aORej7Rba” id-for-player=”21aORej7Rba” link=”/listen/the-gospel-of-saint-patricia-21aORej7Rba/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
The Gospel Of Saint Patricia Discover a true love story

Thirty-five years in the making

Read

The Gospel of Saint Patricia

Available free on the Internet Archive

Www.archive.org Definitive, 3rd Edition over 700+ pages The War spills into the streets….
The Burn Barrel Polka So. Brother Jeremiah and I are out in my backyard maybe two years ago. Its nighttime and I'm burning scrap wood and brush in my burn barrel. Jeremiah issa bout half my age, and enamored by the fire, as allot of peoples are. Its close to freezing outside, and I had used a bit of gas assan accelerant to start the burn. In the true spirit of my philosophy, I'm sharing what I've learned from experience about fires and safety. One such anecdote is about what causes explosions – a majority of air inna container that is sealed and contains a small amount of flammable liquid. A short time later Jeremiah is having fun pouring gas on the fire straight out of the red plastic gas can, against my recommendation. Spoiler alert: said petrochemical container indeed contains a small amount of fuel. We're both standing fairly close to the barrel, as I'm still feeding the conflagration brush cuttings. As another dose of accelerant – again, against my recommendation – is doused on the flames the tip of the gas can's nozzle catches fire. Having just hadda lesson in fire safety and basic physics, Brother Jeremiah thinks quickly – gas can: on fire: pressurized container nearly empty: possible explosion: oh shit. Innan attempt to protect us from what could very possibly be an extremely unpleasant situation he quickly drops flame-spouting teapot in the barrel.


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Thank you,


Free Legal Answers Administration


*****

Yes. I most certainly need to have my legal questions answered. Four years' worth of bizarre masquerade by Thomas Wayne Randle attempting to distort reality by stealing multiple identities in both public and private venues in order to continue piling hurt and abuse upon both me and my fiancé, my best friend of thirty-eight years, Patricia Ann Roberts, has left me suicidal and homicidal – with no evidence that she is alive. This is exacerbated by the fact that no one will help, even when it is their job. No one cares about anyone else ever, do they? If no one else will even make a phone call, then I have no alternative than to do whatever I deem necessary to insure the health, happiness, and well-being of my betrothed.


Patricia Ann Roberts of 2164 Craigend Ln is missing, her voice gone from this world, and Thomas Wayne Randle continues to be recorded lying, supporting white supremacist terrorism in Michigan.


In four years, I have met an outstanding number who actively support domestic violence.

If she is murdered, I have a comprehensive list of accomplices….
Termination Three cycles per second. The rate of dendritic activity in the human brain, the firing across synapses required for neural remapping. It issan isolated, dissociative mental state. That is when regrowth of cognitive function begins to occur. It amuses me greatly that this was discovered during research on the method of specific cortical interaction of ketamine. In my late teens and early twenties we usedta get ketamine from veterinary assistants in their workplace parking lots. Extract dextromethorphan hydrobromide from cough syrup – itsan other dissociative anesthetic. Cough syrup contains acetaminophen, which is highly destructive in the human body and is only really suitable for bringing down fever. If one owns a brain, one benefits greatly from learning to use it, and using it often. It may seem one's body takes it forra ride everywhere, which it does, and it will, unless one makes the conscious decision to direct one's stride.


For years I would scan those assembled for my sister. It didn’t occur to me until very recently that in my mind she never aged. Or that she would be wearing different colors. Or different clothes at all.


I had been deposited” id=”21aOjkTLPB6″ vid=”21aOjkTLPB6″ id-for-player=”21aOjkTLPB6″ link=”/listen/surfside-inn-21aOjkTLPB6/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Surfside Inn Walking back from the beach was always quicker than going there.


For years I would scan those assembled for my sister. It didn't occur to me until very recently that in my mind she never aged. Or that she would be wearing different colors. Or different clothes at all.


I had been deposited on the sand finally, and she was nowhere to be seen. After hanging out by the hotel, I had just gone home. Even when she wasn't there in the morning, I didn't think anything of it. People meet, go to parties or rooms, lose track of time and responsibilities. Even when, days later, her boss at General Dollar called, all I had on deck as an answer was the equivalent of a shrug.


I still live at the same place. It was cheap, and still is. Spend most of my time on the screened-in porch reading, or walking the sand by the strip of hotels, fireworks exploding year-round above my head.


There isn't any place else to go, or anything else to do. I don't register faces that aren't hers, or voices without her characteristic coda.


Its been years, but I still scan the beachside for a woman she used to be, hoping one day I can go home and begin living again. There isn't anything else to do.
Sourced From Laboratory Rats He only buys porn with brand names like Penthouse and Hustler. Even though he has cohabitated, in separate rooms of course, with a goddess for eighteen years. Even though she hates it, and she pleads with him that its degrading he still insists on never getting a blowjob. Instead, he'll pretend, like he always does, that he's someone else, someone he thinks is cool, and insists on masturbating in her hair and on her face. Because sex to him, everything to him – and I speak of the pathetic coward narcissist loser Thomas Wayne Randle – issa desperate lie where he pretends, he has power and is somehow important, even though the " man " has never once had an original thought in his entire wasted existence. A waster of life and time. Twenty-eight years of Rogaine with Minoxodil, an ingredient found in laboratory rat urine. Both crying for and resenting his mumma, sexually stimulated by his memories of when she'd spank him.
Sounds Of Possibility My 1967-1970 Shure 4-channel mic mixer has only had the sounds of fetal heartbeats and what I've sent through it cross its capacitors. It was given to me by a man who retired from the repair pool at Fort Sam Houston. Same guy who laid the " direction of the hole left by the electron moving backwards " gem on me. It came from the sonogram lab, had been purchased new sometime between 1967-1970. It was such a reliable and quality piece of equipment it took the Army that long to render it obsolete and send it to its own retirement. Interwebs inform the same model was used at the original Woodstock festival. I sent some audio – the sounds of pink noise – through each of the inputs to verify it functioned and puttit onna shelf. One of the few items I took with me when I sold Obblonge Box.
Solar Freezer You saw an honest outpouring of purest affection and love, and your reaction was to destroy it. Your jealousy and insecurity, the knowledge that your lazy, unachieving lack of finished self has nothing innit to ever deserve such admiration, compels your hate. You are evil. The very definition of evil that plagues the good peoples of the Earth. Disgusting and disgraceful perversions of the potential inherent in our design. Repugnant flaws that only cause suffering and pain, anguish and malcontentment wherever their paths trod. Infantile grasping at anything immediately available, without regard to consequence for your " self " or others. Extreme selfishness and a delight in the disruption of harmony. A blight on the community and those it nourishes. Ugliness incarnate. Your deaths will not be mourned, nor would they be inna just and fair society. The kind that you hypocrites espouse publicly. Always stabbing those near in the back. Never the courage to face the opponent you have made. Look into my blue eyes as I insert my dagger between your lower ribs and twist. I am not a coward and I feel no fear. This is what self confidence looks like. Poor, poor you. No time left for you to learn and improve. Assif that was ever a possibility

A royal cobalt in sharp contrast with the greys and white

Train tracks sprawling parallel from the nadir

To behind the guests spotlighted

Moving forward to the roving celluloid

Two, female, their eyes corroded as metallic veins of ore skirt past the strata

S” id=”21aB6GUj2uc” vid=”21aB6GUj2uc” id-for-player=”21aB6GUj2uc” link=”/listen/sirens-averse-to-melancholy-21aB6GUj2uc/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Sirens Averse To Melancholy The lens filter is blue

A royal cobalt in sharp contrast with the greys and white

Train tracks sprawling parallel from the nadir

To behind the guests spotlighted

Moving forward to the roving celluloid

Two, female, their eyes corroded as metallic veins of ore skirt past the strata

Sirens averse to melancholy

Optimistic in their hunger

Soon teeth will be bared
Sifting Away Bright, lazer, pale blue, diamond patterns flexing on the paler, cornerless walls of the cavern-like tunnel system. Smell of something sweet; air is sticky and ozonated. Music playing from somewhere unseen, farther down. Live recorded drumset, electric guitar. The throbbing visuals make navigation difficult.


Someone brushes past, hair mousse tassels. Another hand trails across my bare stomach, palm down, and around to my spine. We are not sweating. I'm looking for you, always looking for you. No one is visible, only the pulsating expanding and contracting of the glowing mesh lighting up the walls. I assume the display is projected but I can't distinguish from where. Another thin hand traces skittering up my neck and back of head. No one when I turn. Where are you?


Slade. Someone is playing Slade's Come On Feel The Noise on a small stereo around a corner somewhere. Echoes off the rounded walls seem visible. Two fingers trace the center of my right foot from toes to heel, which is strange, because I'm standing. We rode forever to get here, the sky never-ending and trails marked with diamond shapes. We were together then, hand in hand.
Shhh More than several times I have noted that the results of the comprehensive hearing evaluation I have just administered indicate very specific, narrow bandwidth loss at the frequencies directly corresponding to their partner's screaming. Though I verify this by asking stated person to be angry atta condenser microphone and analyzing the recorded result, I no longer divulge this information; its for my own research. I will inflict my own hearing loss in much more amusing ways, man.


No matter who you choose to be at any given moment,” id=”21aAY7ntfBC” vid=”21aAY7ntfBC” id-for-player=”21aAY7ntfBC” link=”/listen/sexy-girl-21aAY7ntfBC/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Sexy Girl "…and instantly, I knew what that gesture meant- what you were saying. That hand on my pelvic bone said, 'wait, child. I see and hear you. I'll be right back, I promise.' You didn't have children at that point. But that's what that meant. "


No matter who you choose to be at any given moment, I will always be your perfect counterpart, I promise.


Nice legs, by the way. I am oh so attracted to where they meet.


Patricia is the most intelligent person I've ever spoken to. Who, like so many if us, have been poisoned both physically and mentally by the outnumbering jealous lazy, who would rather spend more effort and time avoiding work than it would have taken to perform the task, grow, and continue to the next one.


Stones in the gizzard, gristle shining

Strings contracting in unison

A feral fetal heartbeat

Rows of indentures pale green

Bedding of rosy petals, nestling

Here. I am right here. Next to you.

That's my hand at your breast.

Peter at the gates of Heaven. He’s like, " What the fuck are you doing here? "

I search my rumpled ghost clothes and come up with my antique silver cigarette case. I guess ’cause its silver. Werewolves n shit. And whadaya know – its full.

” id=”21aAVxYFdxS” vid=”21aAVxYFdxS” id-for-player=”21aAVxYFdxS” link=”/listen/sexist-security-21aAVxYFdxS/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Sexist Security I die and wind up with my eyebrow cocked, facing St.

Peter at the gates of Heaven. He's like, " What the fuck are you doing here? "

I search my rumpled ghost clothes and come up with my antique silver cigarette case. I guess 'cause its silver. Werewolves n shit. And whadaya know – its full.

Wasn't that way when I died. Bonus.

" I don't know man. Its your fucking gig. "

My trusty Cthulhu Zippo has not made the trip. Graven image of another God. Right. Bad call on my part.

St. Peter: " Alright. So why should I let YOU through these gates? "

Inspiration strikes. I form the familiar rubber band pistol with my thumb and forefinger. Firing the hand gun, a flame appears at the tip of the index. I light my smoke. It tastes heavenly, assit should. Then I realize my somewhat transparent fingertip isson St. Elmo's Fire. I shake it like you shouldn't do tooa Polaroid picture and luckily it sputters out. Not the time to act goofy and lose face, right?

Exhaling the exhilarating vaporistics through my now glass-like nostrils I intone, " I totally banged all four sisters nextdoor. "

St. Peter stands aside dramatically, a fucking angelic matador, gesturing to His side and beyond.

" My man…"
Self Serving It takes presence of mind to consciously not believe things automatically. What Buddhists call " mindful eating ". Paying attention to every bite. After doing anything on purpose it becomes more automatic. But, of course, being on fully automatic is not desirable either. So. More attention. It is the other's attention that is so valuable inna relationship. Knowing that it will, most likely not be permanent. It is tempting to say that nothing is permanent. But somewhat false. Because we are not aliens here. Never do what you are told. And you have true freedom.
Roman Soldier How the Roman soldier eats pizza in the age of Buck Rodgers: gluten-free pizza crust, pre-formed, leftover refried black beans. Instant mashed potato " granules ", water added, formed into paste. Artificial cheese packet from generic brand of boxed macaroni " dinner ", water added, also formed to paste, though thinner than aforementioned " potatoes ". Layer ingredients in this order on sheet of aluminum foil. Place in large toaster oven. Fish out half smoked cigarette from ashtray, left by female who " hates feelings " (unless they're between her legs?). Smoke until completely finished, while thinking offan actual woman I would love to have sex with. Remove from oven (400 degreesish)
Rod And Todd So. These guys….
Right Under His Nose Right under his nose. Carrying Patty's phone, fully charged and on Do Not Disturb for over two years in his shirt's breast pocket, as a form of infantile dominance. Tommy doesn't dominate anything or anyone. He has no talent, intelligence, or drive. Just a schoolyard bully who can't take anyone's lunch money anymore- it's all scanned from implanted microchip. There was someone hiring to recycle condoms, but…

Funny. Immediately after I first published The Gospel of Saint Patricia to the Internet Archive, Patty's phone number went from being permanently on Do Not Disturb to being blocked. He probably thinks that I can no longer send messages to this number. Which, of course, I am doing right now. Fucking coward. The very definition of a loser.

I wonder what his employer would do if it was publicly announced that one of their employees was actually a " ranking member", a " chapter head or leader" of what he refers to as the Posse Comitatus. A racist activist. Hmmm. Let's find out. If anyone reading this could be bothered to send an email to that effect- please mention where this information can be downloaded – Patty and I would be greatly appreciative. Feel free to get my attention if you need any further information or something I can provide.
Right Now Right now, on this planet….


Often marked by the repe” id=”21aeG65AU0M” vid=”21aeG65AU0M” id-for-player=”21aeG65AU0M” link=”/listen/respect-is-unnatural-21aeG65AU0M/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Respect Is Unnatural Scappy-Doo analogues. Little man syndrome, not isolated to the male gender. Those desperate to feel a self-worth, but not willing to work towards an actual realization of individuality through the acquisition of knowledge and skill, and the sharing of said with others.


Often marked by the repetition of certain pop culture keywords spoken aloud in the direction of those nearby, innan obvious preposterous position of authority. Respect, for example. The refuge of the of the lazy and scared of actual responsibility for actions. Hiding in unshared mental constructs overlaid clumsily with their environment.


To seek control over others; power through intimidation, which is impossible to do with those who have actual selves made through determined and systematic self-evaluation.


No one has authority over you. No one. Any being capable of generating original thoughts stemming from personal observation of data and rational abstract possibility evaluation knows this to be inherently true, and is offended by such vain, feeble grabs to occupy others' time without permission or valid cause.


Anyone issuing orders when not previously engaged in an understood and mutually agreed upon contract. One that is always temporary and at-will.


These are traits of the smallest children, those who have learned to walk without grabbing supports the previous day. Not realizing this within a very short space of time is evidence of an arrested development and detrimental to those surrounding. Dangerous flaws in society that must be corrected immediately, or, if impossible, detained then destroyed.


Jealousy of the parental role. That is why envy is listed as a sin. A misunderstanding of humanity's potential and unwillingness to be anything more advanced than a dolphin orra chimpanzee. To be a human being is to utilize the evolved capacity to imagine events before they occur. There is no advantage to subjugation of peers.


There are, indeed, distinctions among us.


Anyone averring that they don't give a fuck is by definition showing that they only give fucks and are obsessed with being anchors on the way to progress, which is the goal of life.


Communication is the tool by which we assa species are defined. Working together for the benefit of the whole is the only trait that in any way makes us special. To do anything else is a refusal to be considered a human being.


When encountered, these diseases must either be educated and corrected or eliminated before their disharmony infects the healthy and holy prosperous, the good peoples of the Earth.


Influence of others is solely appropriate in the realm of sharing ideas for mutual examination.


Power, dominance, control, jurisdiction, authority, dominion – marks of the weak and destructive missteps of evil. These concepts are only possible by the misleading intentional and confusion of the gift bestowed by our gods.


These are the enemies. Their numbers are not infinite, unless you do nothing and per


When you spend the limited amount of time you have thinking about how others perceive you


that is, assuming or guessing about what others besides yourself think about you –


then you have less time to live your own life.
” id=”21aeEbj8p8s” vid=”21aeEbj8p8s” id-for-player=”21aeEbj8p8s” link=”/listen/remember-this-always-21aeEbj8p8s/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Remember This Always It isn't your job to think other people's thoughts for them.


When you spend the limited amount of time you have thinking about how others perceive you


that is, assuming or guessing about what others besides yourself think about you –


then you have less time to live your own life.


All you will ever own is your body.


All your body has is a limited, unknown amount of time.


Certainly, it is far preferable to spend your time doing your only job.


Being yourself.


A being you made by yourself.


All of your decisions are yours and yours alone.


Unless, that is, you at some point made the decision to give someone else that authority.


No one has authority over you if you are a person.


No one.


Remember this. Always.

Cylindrical fetal ultrasonic

Singles coiled antennaed

Never drink liquor fromma plastic bottle

Corricidin ©®™ slippery rasp

Convergence free and mid range

Warm color spectrum red both ends

Sugars loaded channeled syruped

Buttons click (exclam” id=”21aeCrOuENO” vid=”21aeCrOuENO” id-for-player=”21aeCrOuENO” link=”/listen/read-at-both-ends-21aeCrOuENO/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Read At Both Ends Checkered and plaid and cushioned

Cylindrical fetal ultrasonic

Singles coiled antennaed

Never drink liquor fromma plastic bottle

Corricidin ©®™ slippery rasp

Convergence free and mid range

Warm color spectrum red both ends

Sugars loaded channeled syruped

Buttons click (exclamation) toggled

Solid travelled woodgrain

Weight to the air

Cake batter spice earthen

Distilled chemicalled activated

Resplendent responsive

Plowmb 'h' unnezi ah!

Dexitrim©®™ Willy Wonka©®™

Frozen cheesecake and dry red wine

Medical tragedy mothmen

Scattered the traces

Mimeographed and signed

Tanned hides tannin rich

Nightowling vampiritics

Autumn equinox

Heatmap waterfall flare

Warmth read at both ends
Rat Race Thomas Wayne Randle: the epitome of ugliness, but only assa metaphor. Nothing he has ever done or will ever do is important or shocking or unique. White bread, square, distaste. A peso a dozen. He claims he is the devil himself. Anything claiming to be the devil that jerks off all night locked in his own closet or bathroom on cocaine issa silly poser inna long, long line of identical posers. A mass-produced Halloween mask sold on clearance atta store that only sells disposable items. A knock-off cartoon character with a thin elastic strap and eyeholes cut sharp and misplaced. Nothing to see here. Move along, love. You'll miss something worthwhile and exciting.
Rambling Mess Of Sentences. By the way. When I was in fifth grade the Daughters of the Republic offered contest entry to the public schools in the area. An essay contest with cash prizes for first and second place. It was announced on the intercom system in the morning at Dobie, 5th and 6th grade, Corbett, 7th and 8th grade, and Samuel Clemens 9th-12th grade. The essay was titled What it Means To Me To Be An American. There was no distinction between grades. All entries were treated as equal candidates. I won first place – twenty-five dollars inna check, the equivalent of around $70 by guesstimate counting for inflation. I do not currently have internet to use an inflation calculator. The year would have been about 1987 or 1988. Second place, ten or fifteen dollars, went tooa blonde girl so much older than me I would have considered her an adult. Probably an 11th or 12th grader. We also were treated tooa free meal atta restaurant named Kountry Kitchen, in Schertz, directly off of FM78. Coincidentally the same road my four-street neighborhood is directly off of, less than ten miles away. If I'm not mistaken the location is now Burch Roofing Company, but it was decades ago, and I wasn't driving. We each were asked to read our essays.

Thomas Wayne Randle likes to identify himself assa Christian conservative republican, a proud member of the posse comitatus espousing congressional sheriffs (a recognized white supremacist hate group – for more info check out the Southern Poverty Law Center website), and his hero is Rush Limbaugh. He still smokes cigars despite the throat cancer because he saw a man on TV do it. A slothful, jiggly blob whose job was to sell advertising. Anyone that tries to claim that either Tommy Tiny Penis or Rush Limbaugh is not the dictionary definition offan outspoken proponent of sexist ideology has a losing debate in their future. Earlier in this thread I identified Thomas Wayne Randle as What Is Wrong with America. Let me clarify this. The laws of America are subject to change. All of them. Laws are meticulously defined

Then a smile and a swirl of brunette

Wrapping my arm around you

And my hand around your breast

Fitted and matched perfectly

Warmth is overwhelming

Blanketed cushioned insulated

Tensioned and released

Breaths exhaled in

Immaculate peace


Even after” id=”21aewNfi9ri” vid=”21aewNfi9ri” id-for-player=”21aewNfi9ri” link=”/listen/pull-of-the-magnified-wave-21aewNfi9ri/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Pull Of The Magnified Wave Hazel reflecting blue

Then a smile and a swirl of brunette

Wrapping my arm around you

And my hand around your breast

Fitted and matched perfectly

Warmth is overwhelming

Blanketed cushioned insulated

Tensioned and released

Breaths exhaled in

Immaculate peace


Even after all these decades

I have to stop myself from showing off to gain your attention

And also stop myself from being nervous

Just because you're looking at me


Take off that tracksuit dear

You're making me hot just thinking about it

And if we're gonna sweat

Our skin would be better uncovered


You're giggling as you're heating the wax

And then you're giggling rubbing your cheek against the smoothness

Removing me from your mouth you climb on top of me laughing

I am glad you find me so amusing


Standing in the ocean hours before the hurricane hits

That pull of the magnified wave that at any moment will be too much and prove final

I've never forgotten that feeling

Its the same resolved fear that I'll never return

That flashes momentarily immediately before you bring me to orgasm


You're laying on your stomach moaning pitches concurrent with my fingers tracing around your bones, kneading away the knots in your frame's muscles. I'm saying things, sounding important. Working towards your invigoration, and other knowledgeable appearing phrases. Placing my hands firmly, not tickling. I've been practicing I say. Scalp downwards. Soles upwards. Its my pleasure, I say, meaning it. Because I'm totally checking out your ass the whole time


There's really only a few ways our bodies fit together. And every time they do its always exciting


Can we do that again? I think I made a mistake somewhere. No? Are you sure? You're not just saying that? Well. I think I can do better. Let's try that again. Yeah, right now. Whatever else we had planned just isn't as important. I love you and I want it to be perfect


" And which drug manufacturer paid for your expense” id=”21aeuMzaiXe” vid=”21aeuMzaiXe” id-for-player=”21aeuMzaiXe” link=”/listen/prescription-drug-dealers-21aeuMzaiXe/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Prescription Drug Dealers He scans the psychiatrist: grey-haired, grey-suited. Leather chair, high-backed and suitable forra senator. Rows of hardcover tomes with gold-embossed lettering proclaiming knowledge held within stretch above and beyond in the frame of sight.


" And which drug manufacturer paid for your expenses, your schooling? A hefty bill all those years mount up to. Merck? Pfizer? I guess I can tell by the registered trademarks on the pens and notepads; the coffee mugs in the galley…."


An audible exhale – impatience where there ought to be none. A steepling of fingers manicured.


" Trust. An invitation, an invocation of trust. I shall continue to trust myself. All experience combined reveals the answer: that every human being encountered thus far was unreliable. A liar, working – if one could call it that – towards their own perceived benefit in the short term, without regard to benefit of others. And we must remember, as the man said, that life on Earth is but a flash of dawn. Our entire lives are short terms, are they not? "


A lean forward from the speaker. Coffee, aftershave, leather. Sunlight shaded with tint reveals automobiles meandering through parking lots, floors below and silent. He imagines a ticking clock perched on the shelf behind his target of conversation: black and white plastic cat, with eyes swiveling left and right in tandem with the pendulum offits tail. Corners of mouth widen. How the mouth makes such similar ticking noises after ingesting those pills. Perhaps they are made of sponges, or tiny portals tooan arid desert realm, sucking away all moisture for use by insectoid colonies with nefarious deals.


" The only thing I can trust another human being to do is lie. I trust you as far as I can throw your river-bloated corpse. True irony, isn't it, that the only words you'll hear from me are not fables made up on the spot? "


Nothing moves. Nothing actually in the room, anyway. Silence, near enough. Breathing.


It hasn't been fifteen minutes, and the man expects to be paid, after all.

Hey. Psst. Come hit this shit.” id=”219RxXCYXOo” vid=”219RxXCYXOo” id-for-player=”219RxXCYXOo” link=”/listen/polymorphisms-of-the-leader-219RxXCYXOo/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Polymorphisms Of The Leader Forbidden Fruit is tasty. It also imparts knowledge usable to attain infinite revelations. Our vaccuuming eyes behold unfurling edges of creation and the emptiness between ingredients of existence.

Hey. Psst. Come hit this shit.
Poe'r Edgar A hardcover compendium of The Complete Works Of Edgar Allan Poe appeared inna hallway close to me, so I picked it up. Itsa cheaply printed one, something that was probably available fromma book club and not commercially at the Waldenbooks or the B. Dalton Bookseller. The pages are yellowed and stiff. The jacket doesn't stay attached when opened. Someone's relative ( for cheap or free ) drew the cover illustration, using a vague memory of when they were in elementary school. His works, like my favorite's, Lovecraft, are in the public domain, so the publisher saved cost of paying the author.


But there is a remarkable trait included. A bonus surprise; unintentional.


The ill-fitting inside back cover flap indeed contains the prerequisite editor and author bio blurbs. Editor man saw fit to proclaim himself " an outstanding Poe scholar and author ". I know this brand of hubris isn't isolated to this subsection of artists – but, fucking writers, 'man. Equally as annoying and repulsive as the ones who use the term hubris to describe something made clearer with different words.


Poe'r Edgar gets the opposite. Without relating it verbatim, the summary:

Orphaned at two. Fucked around at colleges and owed loan sharks who break legs. Married his 13 year old cousin. She died. Then he died, two years later. The end, it is blackness on feather'd ebon wings.


Obblonge's page informs me that this is his 500th Deviation. Technically, a few of them are duplicates due to spotty interweb connections and poor management skills. But Obblonge doesn't admit that unless pressed into a verbal corner. He hasn't had need of currency for an indeterminate amount of days. What time is it was always the last question on his list, right before what time was it. Four dollars USD hasn't been coughed up and the geeky aggregated stats are blurry. He can, however, smartly aver that he hath achieved a milestone of sorts: over one million reads ( it says view on the screen, but I see reads ) in less thanna year. July 4th of last year was when I began pouring all those subjects and predicates taptaptapped into my phone out on DA, hijacking passers-by hotspots. He tells himself that would look cool onna handwritten res-oom-may, whatever those are.


That author's bio is a masterwork unto itself. Fitting that two renowned writers meet at some point. Poe'ettic. To have a person's entire life summed up with such….the words, they escape me, and I'm a professional er something.


What would your back cover biography blather on about?


Are you your job? A collection offa few embossed papers? Who you have sex with? Does where your parents got laid define you?


The prophet Obblonge is asking you personally – which is to say, assa person – but he isn't expecting a reply. He is manipulating you. Burrowing his commands. Interrupting the soliloquy already in progress.


He repeats: what are you?
Pleased And Not Pleased And in this era, the prophet [Obblonge] looked upon the Firmament, and detailed the ubiquitous improprieties presenting themselves. Solving them near immediately, his hatred and anger prevented him from adding the most holy information to the Akashic Records. Entropy was both pleased and not-pleased.
Playtime Engineering The online synth expo goes on 'til nine. The guy from Playtime Engineering has been demostrating a product called a Blipblox, a $200 brightly colored. LED laden plastic synth/kid's toy with a dozen knobs, four buttons and two t-handled levers ( anda built-in speaker! ) live since the event began. He has been playing and drinking beer now for almost eight continuous hours. Me and six other people in the world think this is the finest entertainment available at the moment. This ends in fifteen minutes. ( frowny face ) It comes in Fischer-Price white and the After Dark modelin see-through circuit board grey. Looks fantastic under the dollar store LED color changing bulb and five dollar laser light sky pattern dots. Gonna miss this guy.
Plaster Garden Gnomes Complete refusal to learn from mistakes or accidental successes. Step on the head of the one in front of you and sink it underwater as you ford the brook. Take and immediately destroy and irresponsibly dispose of. Replacing the sadistic pain and suffering caused to others in the place where happiness from accomplishment and empathy could have been fostered. A wannabe demon. Not real evil. Real evil is actually a threat onna mass scale. That can only occur with the stealth of hiding in plain sight while wearing a sandwich ad sign. Being able to shove packaged food into one's mouth does not impress the recruiters on either side of the moral conflict. If demons exist and eat souls, then Tommy and his lookalikes are still quite safe. Nothing to see here, just plaster garden gnomes.
Planetary Alignment With the advent of the planetary alignment and the spiritual awakening en masse that occurred innits wake, mindfull beings celebrated intimacy with unheralded abandon. Connections of flesh arousing more than physical sensations, fostering playfullness on purpose with bountifull reward. Latent advantages emerged glorified, holy, wholly. Illusions of desire cleansed of ill consequence, ushering augmented depravity – duality – an offering of souls attan obelisk. Hunger pangs refreshed in pleasure. Raw and organic this funfair. Lost inna dream of reaching cyclonic psyche, yearnings satiated and renewed. Trails of fragrant smoke curling from offering pyres as oriental dragons in the crystal evening heavens.
Pissing At Golden Corral You know what's really awesome about this? I mean, way fucking cool. That the pathetic coward narcissist loser Thomas Wayne Randle, a man with a very tiny penis, can't complain or say anything. What's he gonna do, sue me? By all means, man. That would be ultraneato. Bring me free publicity. As it is, I've got to generate it all. Juggle and eat fire and balance balls on my nose. If he could just sue me publicists would line up like ambulance chasers and ensure a nice, clean, hi-def live camera on Patty as she reads her Gospel onna witness stand. And then leaves the courtroom with me. And we have a season offa reality show. She's photogenic for sure. I'm not horribly asymmetrical. And he's a genuine monster. He looks exactly like a picture of everything I'm accusing him of inna dictionary. She doesn't use certain words, and I only use them. That's funny. And neither if us ever shut up. Someone else has got to edit that dialogue, man. That is not my job.
Pioneer Woman Wow. Looking up egg substitutes I learn a new word. Since it is my job, I now declare the word of the day to be AQUAFABA. According to the Pioneer Woman website ( which disappointingly does not have Amish nudes ) aquafaba is " the liquid from canned or cooking beans. " This includes lentils and garbanzos. Three tablespoons equals one egg. I did not just make that up. $25/hour, unless your social function includes Amish nudes.


I don't care if this is juvenile. Just reporting the facts. 3 tablespoons creamy nut butter=1 egg.


There's even a close-up offa testicle shaped dollop atop a spoon.


1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar plus 1 teaspoon baking soda


= an elementary school volcano in your cake batter


1 tablespoon chia seed + 1/3 cup water + 15 mins standing time =1 egg.


Because my eggless refrigerator is overflowing with weevil-shaped chia seeds.


3 tablespoons water + 2 tablespoons arrowroot powder.


You're fucking kidding me. Where does one obtain arrowroot powder? In large quantities, no less. Next to the bath salts? Ah. Amazon. Who still won't tell me why my account is closed.


Tanqueray. Proud sponsor of Snoop Dogg and the Pioneer Woman.

Shitgoddamnmotherbitch I need a drink.
Patricias Perfection Next to me and one on one in conversation she is completely confident, an amazing listener and orator, comprehending information spoken atta percentage I've never imagined could actually exist. Patient enough to maintain an attention no matter how demanding the thoughtful exercise. Knowledgeable about how a human body works and disciplined enough to maintain it. Imaginative, with the creative vision that the Makers of our species possess, to invent and produce the cutting edge of human wisdom and knowledge. That is the Artist's goal: to take the collected knowledge farther.

A truly breathtaking, amazing person. Who has spent the past eighteen years living with a talentless possessor of people; a follower who hates new ideas and actively tries to destroy them. A hollow shell with no created self, only robotic repetition of irrational and self-defeating tradition. As the Demotivator says:

TRADITION

Just because it's always been done that way doesn't mean it isn't incredibly stupid.

He is one of many outdated models cannibalizing the species. He could have at any point in time chosen to be a part of his community, large or small focus, but instead chose to be a destabilizing disease, both figuratively and as part of the actual physical cause. Fucking Q Anons.

Here under the blankets on the couch

A narrow space that our two prone bodies take up completely

Did I say prone?

That would mean no movement

We are most certainly moving all through the night

A psychedelic dance of not-remembere” id=”219tfzIdWN2″ vid=”219tfzIdWN2″ id-for-player=”219tfzIdWN2″ link=”/listen/our-entirities-219tfzIdWN2/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Our Entirities We keep shifting our limbs, our heads, our entirites

Here under the blankets on the couch

A narrow space that our two prone bodies take up completely

Did I say prone?

That would mean no movement

We are most certainly moving all through the night

A psychedelic dance of not-remembered partners' movements

Two minds in rest responding to the Other's

We never remember all the steps we took to wind up this way

In the "morning" we are somewhat sweaty, every time

I long for the slickness that you can produce so effortlessly

To my senses everything you do is effortless

Perhaps I am jealous after all

Perhaps that strange feeling is what awe and wonder of One's partner feels like

Your head nestles itself between my shoulder and my jaw

You are cooing dove-like

With the exhales of the next four breaths

Softer every time

Your right leg is over my left thigh and curled around

My heart has gotten accustomed to pumping more blood to my right arm

There is warmth between us and around us

And the smell of us, our pairing

This is my last thought as I drift away

Ah! Not quite

It is that I love you,

And that I want to be there when you wake


It was the $1000USD first prize winner one year for The National Library of Poetry’s annual publishing contest. Circa 1994 er something. Out of tens of thousands of entries, maybe e” id=”219tdtBwyJy” vid=”219tdtBwyJy” id-for-player=”219tdtBwyJy” link=”/listen/ode-to-john-keats-219tdtBwyJy/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Ode To John Keats Ode to John Keats issa synonym for the beige, bland, non-salted lukewarm grain cereal of attention span deficit.


It was the $1000USD first prize winner one year for The National Library of Poetry's annual publishing contest. Circa 1994 er something. Out of tens of thousands of entries, maybe even hundreds of thousands, my submission came in the " top 3% ". There is still an embossed certificate in my box of important papers that proclaims this. I don't know if these tomes are still published, but the outcome every year was a gigantic hardcover book containing what had toobe every single entry into the contest – a $1000USD first, $500USD second, and $250USD third prize. Entrance was free, but later the entrant would be mailed an offer to write a few lines of author biography in the backpages in exchange for something like $10-15USD. My mother actually bought a copy of the hardcover forra bout $60. Keep in mind this is pre-inflation calculator.


My poem was bleak and typical offa depressed teenager witha slightly larger than average vocabulary. Slightly eye-rolling innan eye-rolling way. It was called Progress, and was, well, bleak and teenagarily depressing. I remember using the line " baying of malnutritioned hounds ". And something about polluted rain " washing down in torrents earthbound ". I was around sixteen. I made a joke in the author's bio section, something along the lines of the Mission Impossible opening credits – a recording informing the reader that these sentences will now self-destruct. The aforementioned Aunt Barbara Galvan was also a regular poetry contestant. Every year. She related toome that about eight or nine years later she still remembered my bio blurb in the back. Writers can be, well, real fucking serious peoples, man. I'd much rather hang out with musicians, even though they're the worst subgenre of the Artist category. I was apparently one of the very few to not be terminally boring and factual or hubristically serious. And the only one who actually made the entire number of allotted lines a joke. Barbara had sent inna submission every year and not " scored " as high as top 3%. I think she's still pissed about it. Like its my fault and I pissed in her Cream Of Wheat©®™ as well. Whata rancid cuntswab.


However, we both still do agree that Ode to John Keats is just terrible, even iffits for different reasons. Almost a Mad Lib offa poem. Then and today. William McGonagall could have written it. And please, before anyone points out that I am being unfairly and biasedly critical offa fellow artist, read Ode to John Keats first. If you're gonna talk shit have some ammo, that's all I'm saying. I'm not Ernest Hemingway and I won't hunt you down and personally kick your ass if you don't like my shit. Try to keep the overlay offa MadLib titled " Generic Winning Poem Contest Entry " from forming around the words as you read.


This subject is closed until I am challenged. The last period of this Deviation contains a vir

I’m not sure what the actions add up to

Nor the sounds they might make if One was to hear them

Yes, I’m in the same room

Same spot, the recliner

Rocking, pushing with my foot, curled sideways

Nary a glance over my way – you’re busy

I hav” id=”219tbftgDzW” vid=”219tbftgDzW” id-for-player=”219tbftgDzW” link=”/listen/observation-and-edutainment-219tbftgDzW/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Observation And Edutainment You've been doing that intently for hours

I'm not sure what the actions add up to

Nor the sounds they might make if One was to hear them

Yes, I'm in the same room

Same spot, the recliner

Rocking, pushing with my foot, curled sideways

Nary a glance over my way – you're busy

I have no idea what you're doing

At all

Haven't asked

Its not that I'm not interested

Just far too busy watching your movements

Maybe you'll tell me later…

Like no door was your barrier?

That volatile structures enmeshed your vision?

The preacher’s son belongs to only one

And screams his eulogies before deliverance

Foretold

Profane and obstinate

Smiling and charismatic

” id=”219t9bRMSVG” vid=”219t9bRMSVG” id-for-player=”219t9bRMSVG” link=”/listen/nottingham-falls-to-the-hood-219t9bRMSVG/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Nottingham Falls To The Hood Have you ever felt like you were truly alive with purpose?

Like no door was your barrier?

That volatile structures enmeshed your vision?

The preacher's son belongs to only one

And screams his eulogies before deliverance

Foretold

Profane and obstinate

Smiling and charismatic

Wearing the black uniform


Cavalry in covered wagons

Supply lines stretching borders

Armaments oiled and blued

I fought the law and I won

Nottingham falls to the hood

The sheriff of Oakland county

Burning upon his cross


Those who use deceit, who lie. Those who choose to live manipulating the Good peoples for their perceived gain. The dishonest.


They are the weakest.


The ones who do nothing. Who refuse to open their eyes, claiming that it isn’t their problem.


The” id=”219t6ZsiclG” vid=”219t6ZsiclG” id-for-player=”219t6ZsiclG” link=”/listen/no-society-reveres-the-coward-219t6ZsiclG/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
No Society Reveres The Coward No society reveres the coward.


Those who use deceit, who lie. Those who choose to live manipulating the Good peoples for their perceived gain. The dishonest.


They are the weakest.


The ones who do nothing. Who refuse to open their eyes, claiming that it isn't their problem.


They are the problem.


There can be no liberty, no freedom, with these amongst our number.


Anchors tied around our necks, dragging us towards the ocean floor.


Drowning is assuredly one of the most terrifying and painful manners in which to die.


All our stories, our tales meant to exalt humanity above all other life, feature heroes and place value on virtues: bravery, honesty, trustworthiness, friendship lasting through all adversity. These are meant to inspire us to be and become something that no other form of life known in the universe can be.


We know their names. The wasters of life and time.


And what shall the Good people of the Earth do with the liars, the worshippers of the Prince Of Lies?


And what shall we do with those who stood idly by and watched, claiming that it wasn't their problem? That they lived inna vacuum, unaffected by anything or anyone?


If you require a leader.

If you need to be ordered to act.

Then you are not one of Us.

And you shall be treated accordingly.


No society reveres the coward.
Nextdoor Horrorshow I would rather be temporarily conjoined with a rotting dog carcass than to ever touch Pamela's skin again. To think I was inside her even once putrefies every fiber of my being. To even touch the event horizon of such a black hole of selfishness is to encounter something so misshapen it defies categorization in a human mind. The purest form of monstrosity from a Lovecraftian nightmare.

Money is intrinsically worthless.

Buttons from an old flannel shirt.

Game tokens from an arcade long closed of door.

Washers, of varying sizes.

Bottle caps, both from bottle tops and Willy Wonka.

These are things that gave value and will b” id=”219sYuusUAE” vid=”219sYuusUAE” id-for-player=”219sYuusUAE” link=”/listen/new-disguises-219sYuusUAE/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
New Disguises Never throw money inna wishing well.

Money is intrinsically worthless.

Buttons from an old flannel shirt.

Game tokens from an arcade long closed of door.

Washers, of varying sizes.

Bottle caps, both from bottle tops and Willy Wonka.

These are things that gave value and will be missed.

Its hungry.

Evil does not hide.

Because it issa threat.

You cannot be threatened by something lesser than you.

Everything living fears the ultraviolet.

The sun giveth and it taketh away.


Beating the devil

We never run from th” id=”219sGypTsHe” vid=”219sGypTsHe” id-for-player=”219sGypTsHe” link=”/listen/message-to-aunt-barbara-219sGypTsHe/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Message To Aunt Barbara A demon after your lonely soul is not evil.

Its hungry.

Evil does not hide.

Because it issa threat.

You cannot be threatened by something lesser than you.

Everything living fears the ultraviolet.

The sun giveth and it taketh away.


Beating the devil

We never run from the devil

We never summon the devil

We never hide from the devil

-System offa Down


( A message to Aunt Barbara Galvan)


They're coming to get you

The angels, with their flaming swords in hand

They're coming to get you, Barbara

Those who do not hide from what frightens them

Those who read from the Akhasic Records

And contribute lifelong the next chapters

Those pulling the plows

Strong combustuous machines

Fire interior fueled by fires exterior

Inertia gleaned from the breaking apart bonds that never hold – weak


Trust one and one only atta time

This refers to another

Your self has no value until you are dead

Only potential

Choose to direct or be directed

To recognize authority is toobe evil

No one has authority over you – No one

To recognize authority is to silence your voice

If you refuse to use your voice then I will

The prophet [Obblonge] acts not with altruism

The prophet [Obblonge] has its own agenda

I am not doing this forra profit

I am doing this forra prophet

I am the brackets around your parentheses

My calculations come first

If you work for me you can't work with me


I do not do things to you, my love

I do things with you

Your attentions are my rewards

I am the definition of wealth

No currency has ever purchased what I value

As the records clearly show


Respect requires one to value another's opinion without verification

Those who desire respect are aware of their fragility, their ineptitude

Which is due entirely to their sloth

Their unwillingness to work or contribute

Only consume and shit and waste and consume waste


While you are not the sum of what you consume

You are if you follow

Instead of lead and create

Step forwards, step sideways, step diagonal, step lively, step backwards

Fucking move

Or remain still and rooted

Serenely waiting for the razor to cut you off and the universal solvent to wash your shadow away


That's you – the embellishment of the witch's wart drawing attention to bulbous tumor –

A flag of the enemy at their embassy

Gilded and oiled and immovable until the structure is inevitably razed

Shouldn't have built on the floodplain

That's why you were allowed that real estate

You were never part of the plan

That's what you kept shouting

That's you weren't Us

Well then

Get the fuck back where you belong

Where the tenements are sloppy piles

Your hole in the hive is melting

Mucoid oatmeal glue loosing grip

Beige on beige

Burrowing betrayer

Rebecca Nurse indeed

But not in deed

They were students of science

You have never been a student

Only a petulant child making things up

Poorly

They're coming to get you, Barbara

And you will never find Heaven

Being as the subject of your w

Warm embrace breathing. Wind picks up.

Swaying. Flames dance. Mmmm.

I can feel the vibrations in my sternum.

Exploration leading to conclusion.

Unification of viewpoints, skyward.

Orthodoxy. Emergence. Lusciousness.

Altar alluring majesty.” id=”219sD4xKh7G” vid=”219sD4xKh7G” id-for-player=”219sD4xKh7G” link=”/listen/mediums-inclination-219sD4xKh7G/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Medium's Inclination Sand underneath toes. Horizon fuschia.

Warm embrace breathing. Wind picks up.

Swaying. Flames dance. Mmmm.

I can feel the vibrations in my sternum.

Exploration leading to conclusion.

Unification of viewpoints, skyward.

Orthodoxy. Emergence. Lusciousness.

Altar alluring majesty.

Abstract dandelion xylem ambulatory.

Lapse of cessation in comprehension.

Medium's inclination.

Fingers intertwinned.
Meals Ready To Eat " You're just a fool. A has-been. A washed up jester, who never got the punchline. All this time. Always lying. Everyone just stared at you and laughed. You were their entertainment. But now your jokes are routine. And you smell of defeat, of squander. Wall-eyed, wandering intoxicated and angry, rude. Gesturing for handouts behind backs, just in case an unseen observer eyes your thievery – scurrying rodential into cracked corners alone with your ever disappearing prize candy. "


The matte, dull metal of the unadorned, mess kit rounded fork reflected no shine assit closed the distance. Three tines rupture glistening orb in socket, surrounded by idiot's face, greasy. Even when screaming the mouth projected numbness. Right hand delivering present, left hand working the jaw.


Walking away, himself remembering he hadn't eaten today, The Messenger paused before mounting the stairs of the basement.


" The other one is on the table. "


*****


Confined forever now in darkness, however one measures forever, flab-shafted fingers ripped open greedy the threadbare drawstring bags lining the claustrophobic buried chamber. Each ration unique. Small, jagged, tar-coated granites. Rusted, unfinished thumbtacks. A dry, but soft and crumbling substance pungent with fungoid digestion of furred abdomen in felled, hollowed trunk. Used gauze offa burn victim, one side slick with sloughed off flesh. Burnt, broken glass, curved slightly, mixed with charred strands of sharpened copper.


Meals ready to eat. Custom made for those who prepared doomsday.


She wrote:


Clear picture in your mind of what you want….

Take Possession (scratched out) direct it to wha” id=”2194KXJ8v3q” vid=”2194KXJ8v3q” id-for-player=”2194KXJ8v3q” link=”/listen/leaving-nothingness-2194KXJ8v3q/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Leaving Nothingness A notice, an edict, a treatise. Handwritten as the most meaningful are and passed through a driver's side car window as the spitting raindrops amassed into a legitimate downpour.


She wrote:


Clear picture in your mind of what you want….

Take Possession (scratched out) direct it to whatever means you desire


Cursive, with miniature spirals as the dots, in pencil, which makes the scratching out even more endearing. As I am left-handed, pencils are my sworn adversary, smearing as they do across the page as the hand holding them scoots along towards the right edge. Writing in ink, one has no thoughtfully located eraser option, and peoples congested of thought often have collisions occurring violently on their pages.


Engine sputtering hollowly, she backed out of the driveway with daughter in tow, face set with purpose and intention. That was hours ago, before the storm worsened and the digital interruptions of hazardous weather conditions began brashly erupting from devices collected. Perched apprehensive atop the wooden table by the bay window, gazing out at the trees dancing energetic but not seeing them, the oddly scarred river-smoothed stone felt much colder in my grip than the ambient temperature.


Loneliness had been ingrained since childhood. Not a physical apparition; ghosts of personas were plentiful – nauseatingly so. Fractions, percentages of peoples rubbed uncomfortably close in constant distracted idle chatterings. Never ending look at mees.


No one I ever wanted to hear continuously. An opinion valued, treasured.


A steady ringing of the doorbell. Church bells fromma spire nearby and hallowed. Again, and again with precision metronomic cadence. A beckoning from indistinct, fog-laden hills to cavort amongst the mist.


Comfort. Togetherness. Eternal enough to leave present and past cares inna receding distance.


Now. Be urgent, lest this opportunity pass. Now, dear. The moment so long awaited is here.


Dreadful exhaustion disappeared as I closed the space between myself and the door. Smell of black and rich soil pervaded as I turned the knob.


There is peace here, in the grave, the voice liplessly mouthed upon invitation in.


Yes, was the reply, answering a question unasked.


In the frigid cool of rainfall two hands joined in friendship. The waters dissolved what was once unclean, leaving nothingness and happiness.

Sometimes things propagate as waves.


She found this moth(rat?)-eaten manual fromma time not ours that mentioned this. That was before the invaders came. It may as well be centuries ago. There were stores that sold candies then. Wrapped in cellophanes of every color of the rainbow. W” id=”2194HJLBVOo” vid=”2194HJLBVOo” id-for-player=”2194HJLBVOo” link=”/listen/lauras-story-2194HJLBVOo/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Lauras Story Waves.

Sometimes things propagate as waves.


She found this moth(rat?)-eaten manual fromma time not ours that mentioned this. That was before the invaders came. It may as well be centuries ago. There were stores that sold candies then. Wrapped in cellophanes of every color of the rainbow. What I'd give for something sweet now…


The sky is grey. Its always a shade of grey now. Sometimes lighter, during the day, I guess, orran ashen smeared easel offan irrational pantheon of uncaring gods and goddesses. We've been walking in what we assume is the same direction for at least two weeks. Following the river, keeping it to our left. At least we know we're not walking in circles. There's always an unnatural sound, like a sweeping broom across the tiled entranceway to Hell, that is present over the rushing water. Maybe that's why we stay close to the flowing – it almost blocks out the new world we have found ourselves in. Some semblance offa documentary on nature we might have seen when young and entertainment and learning were possibilities. There aren't many animals anymore. The ones that catch our peripherals are as ashen as the sky. Funny. I don't recall seeing foxes before; not in person. How long have we really been picking our way along this rocky terrain?


Laura is ahead of me, carrying a long bamboo walking stick. Sometimes when I lie and smile I tell her that's sposta help one walk. She lies and smiles back that of course its helping her walk – if I keep it horizontal it functions assif I'm onna tightrope – look, I'm inching between downtown skyscrapers!


An explosion in the distance, probably building sized. Sounds don't travel as far as they used to. All the greyness that came with Them is heavy, a wet blanket on the Earth, makes breathing a chore if one pays attention. The last buildings we saw were three-quarters immersed in the river. What is this body of water called? How does one forget what the local river is named? The same way one forgets what one's first car was, or where one's first kiss took place. Drive-in? Couch? Under bleachers? The explosion must be far enough to not be an immediate concern. No underfoot rumblings. We barely look up, in fact. We decided that attempting to track our progress in terms of direction was boring and pointless. Its not assif there issa goal we're reaching, a dot onna map that hassa printed name next tooit. In fact, the farther away we stay from those former dots on maps the better. Out here in the Great Big Fucking State Park of Wherever The Fuck We Are its peaceful enough. No former right angles to remind us that there are no straight lines in nature. Can't remember the last time I waited forra red light.
I Remember, In Dreams The bell in the tower visible from here tolls in threes, seemingly at random, orrat least to a doctrine unknown to me. Blues and maroons envelop the stone edifices as ivy growing angrily. The lone creator god took another sacrifice today. The fourteen year old's craft was found overturned on the beachside, empty. There was no storm. It has demanded much since coming as it did through sword and violence to this island. Perhaps its best I stay away from the towncenter and deal only with the women who make their weekly rounds up here. They are always so weary from the journey I give them more than a fair price for their wares. I saw the fisherboy alight out this morning, same as any other. He was the only male left of his clan. There was nothing untold or untoward in his practiced departure.


The oldest of my weekly goodsmerchants wants me to choose a bride from her helpers. Has been suggesting it heavy-handed for months now. Says this place is too big for one, and that I am not yet close to being past my prime. She is correct, and almost all of the faces that accompany her are beauty incarnate – truly gifts of the old gods. None shy away from my gaze. It has been years since my Esme was called to the sea. Perhaps that's why I stay so far up here, tending to the lights and the paths of the old prosperous ones. Its where they tell me I'm needed.


The crawling colors abreadst the stonemasonry are growing brighter and more ardent in their fingered graspings. I have noticed this before. There is a clash coming on the winds. These walls are strong and the passage here narrow. I think the next time I see the merchantwoman I will tell her that she possesses a keen eye and heart. She keeps her jewelry and tattoos hidden elsewhere, but here they are welcomed by the walls and the one who tends them. Perhaps she would not scoff if I told her that she was the one who hath captured my youthfull desire….


*****


Alight, my heart, for I am wed once more! To Iris, director of fineries and commerce on this isle. Laughter of her daughters reports off the stones floors below. She has grown rounder since taking a supervisory role in the business, choosing to stay with me up here near the guiding lights. The decorations of our past history with the skies and earthen enchanted bared for them to spy. It brings such a new glow to her countenance to do so openly. Esme always regaled me with smiling titterings that she had chosen well, and Iris does the same, in even more expansive dialogue. Despite the grey in my beard, I am a devout worshipper of all things goddess, and it goes not unappreciated.


Together, we record the colors and their probable prophecies. They will be necessary for the younger ones soon, no doubt….
Grapes Are Unpeeled Halloween Eyes Rosa dabs at leftover greasepaint clinging still to her neck. Smaller, somehow more fun size candybars visible in the mirror underneath her efforts; James Avery charms jingling at her wrist. Plastic sparkle encased communicator vibrates off the edge of the foyer table, finally landing facedown on the tile.

" Ughhh! What!? "

Retrieving the oblong device from the floor and tossing the tequila tainted black blouse without thinking, steps carry her towards the kitchen. Cilantro chops finely with the ceramic bladed knife leftover fromma roommate past. Phone complains its being ignored. A singular shadow slides closer along the hanging cookwares. Using the handle Rosa digs at the spot directly under the hook clasp of the lacy black bra; finally conceding she indeed needs a steamy shower it joins the sheer blouse somewhere on the flooring squares. Impatience emanates fromma tiny speaker on the counter by the sink, drippings fromman onion finely bubbling between the plastic and countertop. Sighing in relief, letting loose vowels, her fingers wipe moisture from underneath her bosom, minute bits of dark green leaf remaining in its stead.


Movement – menace – alarm – blurring adrenaline – deep tissue grinding penetration


Hot fluid, burning almost, spurts urgently and wetly, covering her right nipple and areolae. The knife does not drop, embedded innits hastily chosen target.


" Joaquin? "


A sticky rivulet traces its way through the ultrafine hairs of Rosa's abdomen. Iron and oxygen rich, its outrageous primary color contrasts sexy.

Every Dog Bites

Hopeium is dangerous

Educate your target market

You are not a commodity-a dollar amount of price

Someone who solves others problems atta profit

Too much choice leads to no decision

Sales prevention department

Polluted revenue/polluted dollar
” id=”218jmXLUbJu” vid=”218jmXLUbJu” id-for-player=”218jmXLUbJu” link=”/listen/go-on-little-girl-ring-the-bell-218jmXLUbJu/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Go On Little Girl, Ring The Bell Ethical bribe

Every Dog Bites

Hopeium is dangerous

Educate your target market

You are not a commodity-a dollar amount of price

Someone who solves others problems atta profit

Too much choice leads to no decision

Sales prevention department

Polluted revenue/polluted dollar

Orchestrate and stimulate

Paralysis by analysis

Process of reciprocal stimulation

I’ll make you a believer

– Depeche Mode

Personal Jesus

Violator album


Adjusting his tie, the sweat had begun to pool in all the customary places. It was after lunch, and the spicy meatball marinara had been a dangerous choice, but a rewarding one, thr” id=”218j55zEAXm” vid=”218j55zEAXm” id-for-player=”218j55zEAXm” link=”/listen/fast-fashion-218j55zEAXm/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Fast Fashion Pick up the receiver

I'll make you a believer

– Depeche Mode

Personal Jesus

Violator album


Adjusting his tie, the sweat had begun to pool in all the customary places. It was after lunch, and the spicy meatball marinara had been a dangerous choice, but a rewarding one, throwing the gears of commerce into overdrive. Quota had been met earlier in the week, and it was all downhill for this account. Higher commission bonuses were assured. Unlike most in the cubicles, he preferred still his old telephone, with its nostalgic RF rejecting coiled cord as opposed to the headsets. A solid connection felt in the hand to establish solid connections with prospective clientelle.


Short, atonal digital melody and….


" Good afternoon, Mr. Eisen?"


" Yes. " The voice responding had authority and smoke behind it. A gent in a library, or who at least maintained one in his place of residence, pictured itself on the blank 8 1/2" x 11" sheet pinned to the fabric on the wall directly opposing his desk. A visualization technique adapted from his first correspondence business course from Phoenix.


" Pleasure speaking with you today, Mr. Eisen. This is Chuck Rast, calling on behalf of East Telemarketers. "


No interruption or audible exhale. Excellent.


" Our client, Haven Literary Circle, has an offer of truly startling beauty and value that will only be available for a limited time. A matched, high-quality, robustly illustrated set of companion hardcover research texts detailing the authentication processes of the most widely available and trusted documents concerning the Dead Sea Scrolls, and other writings in ancient Hebrew shaping Judeo-Christian commentary today. "


He had practiced getting that sentence out in one breath, but not in a noticeable hurry, for hours. This attention to detail was why he was the top seller time and again, no doubt.


A creaking sound in the speaker held up to his ear. A wooden cabinet door badly in need of oil for its hinge? The voice following it, closer and louder, accompanied by static not present before.


" Mmmm. Candy for the cranium. Something to suck the gelatin out of. What do the covers look like, Charles? They're not those garish LifeTime types with magazine photography pasted to the glossy headings, are they? "


A metallic crunching. Mortar and pestle made of hollow aluminium mashing coconut scout cookies. No one had called him Charles since his mother died. He had pronounced it the same, in two separated syllables.


" Oh, no. I know what you mean – pop culture summaries like those belong next to the registers with the tabloids. Leather bound. Gold foil embossed. Stitched in ribbon placemarkers, a royal maroon color. Each one over six hundred pages. Available as a set of seven or individually. "


More static, imitating that of a roaring fire. Low pitched growling. Large dog warning the postmaster yet again?


" Ssss-plendid. My mind was lighting upon Megiddo and Gnosis as you rang. A charmi
Ensuring Bountifull Harvest Sikhs nets trawling the Arabian sea. Starless night, smell of burning grasses waft from the shore. Rituals. Spiders. Engines. Inventions. Numerals. Cuneiform in drying tablets. Levithan's suctioned fronds reaching away from the Earth's core skid against the craft's hull. Thirteenth birthdays – set to the waters as offerings. Praise and fear, smudges of aromatics 'crossed flesh. Harbinger, opulence, continuation. Silvered. Metallic taste rings solid through the wine. No one told the passengers their return isn't planned.
Dancing Barefoot Dancing barefoot on the driveway had left black, smeary prints on the saltillo. She had argued that eating the worm out of the tequila bottle would not induce visions hellish, and won. The throbbing behind her forehead and parched state did not remind of victory. Swallowing a handfull of naproxen dryly with chocolate milk, her left hand swirled yellow little-kid mustard in patterns on the kitchen island, carefull to squeeze gently so as to avoid splattering bubbles. Dark red ketchup followed perpendicular to the narrower edges. Maple colored corn syrup filling in central sections assa color by number. Mayonnaise edging filigrees. Grape jellied baubles by the rangerop knobs, chocolate ice cream topping on the opposing side. Continuing to wander diagonal, counterfeit olive oil trailed at her side.


Inside, dampness receeded, chased out by red glows of bare metal in cages of the same. Shadowed teak and yello” id=”218ixBmuBCE” vid=”218ixBmuBCE” id-for-player=”218ixBmuBCE” link=”/listen/cure-for-pain-thus-far-218ixBmuBCE/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Cure For Pain, Thus Far Ivy willowed mossily abreast the chambers' exoskeleton where I stayed last. Air was in fresher supply, so I sought to remedy the mixture of oxygen being too rich embracing my alveoli.


Inside, dampness receeded, chased out by red glows of bare metal in cages of the same. Shadowed teak and yellowed ivory, stout beers and carpets borne of looms handmade and driven. Languages supposedly my own drenched my ears in rivulets vertical and narrow of frequency, kaleidoscopic snowflake syllables jutting rounded and poking playfully. The place was packed, I assume, forra Wednesday. Peoples strewn in globs huddled.


Light of step and heavy of heart I make my way to the bar. Earth tones everywhere; floor, walls, peoples, clothes, racks, barrels. Proprietor propositions – I accept. With my sheer will alone I create a separate space to drink with less crowd and heat. It occurs in the form offan enclosed patio accessed bya glossy, greasy, squeaking door nestled between the emergency exit sign and what I'm told is a growing fissure in the foundation. Watch the step, or be flat of face.


Returning to see my breath escaping in the bluish atmosphere, the night is scoured by highway radiance and trails of pistons parlance. I am more eased in this instance. A figure, slight and maybe long-haired, perches silent in the black corner, lattice squared diamonds epauletting its shoulders in infinite stretching horizontal planes. I don't see very well, never did, and I'm not wearing my glasses, having walked here. I feel my lips make a smiling gesture: grin full of wincing. Immediately sliding into the booth right of the entrance/exit, Camel cigarette already in mouth, I scratch the Zippo's wheel across flint, leaving sparks fading visually.


Dogs bark somewhere beyond the sodiumed parking lot. They're hungry. So am I. Nicotine clouds embrace in the fifteen foot space between the corners, leather creaking as the two solitary jackets are shifted restlessly over their wearers. My hands rub the back of my neck on either side of the spine. Jaw wants to move, wants to hinge lubricated. But I have nothing to say. This continues for minutes unobtrusive.


Burst!

The door is kicked open in practiced style and fried dripping mushrooms are delivered left, bracketing in pair slivers of also fried potatoes to the right. Customary exchanges are provided while the bugle offan Air Force base sounds Taps over its public address system. My companion in dark chill shifts from its seat on the upper railing to the bench stationed at the table. Boots hit deck.


I am writing left-handed inna hardcover department store journal while squishing hot food between my teeth. My journey northward has been noteworthy and footnote inducing. Knowing I had not the funds to make the trip, fuel or otherwise, the time had come and the stars were right for movements. Fifteen hundred miles, thereabouts. Brake pads unevenly gouging striped rotors on all four wheels before I left San Antonio. No more w
Heard Any Good Books Lately? April 2023 edition This latest edition features a review of the top 10 most checked out books for the month of March 2023 from the library including, The Business of Lovers by Eric Jerome Dickey, along with the rest of the list.
188-WIGB-Season-21-Handbook of Reality Ep-2 Wait it Gets Better is an Improvisational Story Telling Podcast   Story Elements: Levi: Economic System Reed: Villian       Questions? Comments? [email protected]
189-WIGB-Season-21-Handbook of Reality Ep-3 Wait it Gets Better is an Improvisational Storytelling Podcast   Story Elements: Levi: Unique Artifact Reed: Wild Card Seth: History   Questions? Comments? [email protected]
All titles available at The Ivy Bookshop and other fine lo” id=”8PWgW6ffmZZ” vid=”8PWgW6ffmZZ” id-for-player=”8PWgW6ffmZZ” link=”/listen/pandemic-possibilities-kunstlers-in-paradise-by-cathleen-schine-and-the-fun-widows-book-tour-by-zoe–8PWgW6ffmZZ/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Pandemic Possibilities: “Kunstlers in Paradise” by Cathleen Schine and “The Fun Widow's Book Tour” by Zoe Fishman On this edition of The Weekly Reader, we review two new novels by writers who continue to play with the way the COVID-19 lockdown affected our lives: “Kunstlers in Paradise" by Cathleen Schine and "The Fun Widow's Book Tour" by Zoe Fishman. 
All titles available at The Ivy Bookshop and other fine local retailers. 
 See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.
 
All books available at The Ivy Bookshop and other fine local retialers. Se” id=”l6Ig2KN2HG” vid=”l6Ig2KN2HG” id-for-player=”l6Ig2KN2HG” link=”/listen/southeast-asia-focus-new-work-from-rachel-heng-and-ralph-white-l6Ig2KN2HG/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Southeast Asia Focus: New work from Rachel Heng and Ralph White On this edition of The Weekly Reader, our book critic Marion Winik turns her focus to Southeast Asia, with reviews of a new novel and a memoir: The Great Reclamation by Rachel Heng, and Getting Out of Saigon by Ralph White.
 
All books available at The Ivy Bookshop and other fine local retialers. See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.



Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/tomreadsyourstory/message” id=”8QS2id1uNvV” vid=”8QS2id1uNvV” id-for-player=”8QS2id1uNvV” link=”/listen/instant-replay-an-homage-to-pete-hamill-8QS2id1uNvV/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
INSTANT REPLAY: An Homage to Pete Hamill Episode 157: Tom replays one of his favorites, a tribute to a true New York original, journalist Pete Hamill. This is from August 2020.



Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/tomreadsyourstory/message
Episode 167: The “Best of” Series – The Literary Life of Timilyn Downey, Ep. 122 This week on The Literary Life, we are bringing you another “Best of The Literary Life Podcast” episode. This week’s featured guest is Timilyn Downey, who will be a keynote speaker at this spring’s Literary Life Online Conference. Hosts Angelina Stanford and Cindy Rollins dig into how Timilyn became a lifelong reader. Timilyn shares about the incredibly literary childhood education that she had without even realizing it at the time. She also tells the story of her trip to London during college, then goes into how she used a literary approach in her teaching career. Timilyn also describes her journey to homeschooling and the role that God’s grace clearly played in where she is now. Register now for our 5th Annual Literary Life Online Conference coming up April 12-15, 2023, Shakespeare: The Bard for All and for All Time. Get all the details and sign up today at houseofhumaneletters.com. Commonplace Quotes: The founding of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood was not as programmatic or formal as its name suggests, but rather evolved out of a series of pub discussions and informal get-togethers. Carolyn Weber Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, one by one. Charles MacKay On a Saturday afternoon in winter, when nose and fingers might be pinched enough to give an added relish to the anticipation of tea and fireside, and the whole week-end’s reading lay ahead, I suppose I reached as much happiness as is ever to be reached on earth. C. S. Lewis from “Among School Children” by William Butler Yeats VII Both nuns and mothers worship images, But those the candles light are not as those That animate a mother's reveries, But keep a marble or a bronze repose. And yet they too break hearts—O Presences That passion, piety or affection knows, And that all heavenly glory symbolise— O self-born mockers of man's enterprise; VIII Labour is blossoming or dancing where The body is not bruised to pleasure soul, Nor beauty born out of its own despair, Nor blear-eyed wisdom out of midnight oil. O chestnut tree, great rooted blossomer, Are you the leaf, the blossom or the bole? O body swayed to music, O brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance? Book List: The Rossetti’s in Wonderland by Dinah Roe Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds by Charles MacKay Surprised by Joy by C. S. Lewis Little Britches by Ralph Moody Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis My Side of the Mountain by Jean Craighead George Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery The Arabian Nights by Muhsin Mahdi The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan Mere Motherhood by Cindy Rollins Morning Time by Cindy Rollins Tending the Heart of Virtue by Vigen Guroian D’Aulaire’s Book of Norse Myths by Ingri and Edgar D’Aulaire Support The Literary Life: Become a patron of The Literary Life podcast as part of the “Friends and Fellows Community” on Patreon, and get some amazing bonus content! Thanks for your support! Connect with Us: You can find Angelina and Thomas at HouseofHumaneLetters.com, on Instagram @angelinastanford, and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/ANGStanford/ Find Cindy at morningtimeformoms.com, on Instagram @cindyordoamoris and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/cindyrollins.net/. Check out Cindy’s own Patreon page also! F
Episode 168: The “Best of” Series – Witches, Wizards, and Magic, Oh My!!, Ep. 104 This week on The Literary Life Podcast we are pleased to bring you another “Best Of” series replay of one of our most popular episodes. Today our hosts Angelina Stanford, Cindy Rollins and Thomas Banks tackle the tough questions so many people ask about reading stories dealing with magic. First off, Angelina affirms the need to discernment and the desire to steer clear of that which would be a stumbling block for our children. Cindy shares a little about her own concern when her children were very young. Then they set the groundwork by defining some terms and considering the kinds of questions we need to ask, beginning with Scripture and the church fathers. Be sure to listen to the end when Angelina, Cindy and Thomas suggest some criteria for evaluating magic elements in books before handing them to their students. Commonplace Quotes: I am not conscious of having ever bought a book from a motive of ostentation. Edward Gibbon There is no language and no knowledge without symbol and metaphor. Two consequences arise from this: one is that we require imagination both to make and to interpret symbols, and the other is that symbols themselves beckon us through language to that which is beyond language. In other words, symbols are energized between the two poles (as Coleridge would say) of immanence and transcendence. Malcolm Guite Incidentally, we do not know of a single healthy and powerful book used to educate people (and that includes the Bible) in which such delicate matters do not actually appear to an even greater extent. Proper usage sees no evil here, but finds, as an attractive saying has it, a document of our hearts. Children can read the stars without fear, while others, so superstition has it, insult angels by doing the same thing. Wilhelm Grimm The Queen Mab Speech by William Shakespeare O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Over men’s noses as they lie asleep; Her wagon spokes made of long spinners’ legs, The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; Her traces, of the smallest spider web; Her collars, of the moonshine’s wat’ry beams; Her whip, of cricket’s bone; the lash, of film; Her wagoner, a small grey-coated gnat, Not half so big as a round little worm Pricked from the lazy finger of a maid; Her chariot is an empty hazelnut, Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub, Time out o’ mind the fairies’ coachmakers. And in this state she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then they dream of love; O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight; O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight dream on fees; O’er ladies’ lips, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. Sometimes she gallops o’er a courtier’s nose, And then dreams he of smelling out a suit; And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig’s tail Tickling a parson’s nose as ‘a lies asleep, Then dreams he of another benefice. Sometimes she driveth o’er a soldier’s neck, And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats, Of breaches, ambuscades, Spanish blades, Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes, And being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two And sleeps again. This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs, Which once untangled much misfortune bodes. This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs, That presses them and learns them first to bear, Making them women of good carriage. This is she! Book List: Memoirs of My Life by Edward Gibbon Faith, Hope, and Poetry by Malcolm Guite Wings and the Child by Edith Nesbit Support The Literary Life: Become a patron of The Literary Life podcast as part of the “Friends and Fellows Community” on Patreon, and get some amazing bonus content! Thanks for your support! Connect with Us: You can find Angelina and Thomas at HouseofHumaneLetters.com, on Instagram @angelinastanford, and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/ANGStanford/ Find Cindy at morningtimeformoms.com, on Instagram @cindyordoamoris and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/cindyrollins.net/. Check out <a href="https://www.patreon.com/cindyrollins?fbclid=IwAR3acx7P6FGt1Us_buk7cIzIaK31FxMaNl

Read: Superman: Emperor Joker
Next: Batgir” id=”1yOjJxJS4g4″ vid=”1yOjJxJS4g4″ id-for-player=”1yOjJxJS4g4″ link=”/listen/231-superman-emperor-joker-1yOjJxJS4g4/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
231. Superman: Emperor Joker Goodbye! This Bizarro #1 best book. This week the brothers explore what would happen if The Joker became omnipotent. We discuss 5th dimension Imps that made some mistakes, Lois and her wigs, and Superman takes one for the good of all. Thanks for listening!

Read: Superman: Emperor Joker
Next: Batgirl: Silent Running
American Fascists/Union/??? New player in the American fascist scene. They can't decide on their name, and pick fights with everyone. They're fitting right in
Season Finale Harold Covington ends his literary career with some of the worst writing I've encountered in my career as a podcaster. Monologuing, it's a hard no for me
100 – Books Are My People This week, I celebrate my 100th podcast episode! Want more book recommendations? Sign up for my newsletter here. Win Pineapple Street by Jenny Jackson here. Books RecommendedWe All Want Impossible Things by Catherine NewmanThe Dog of the North by Elizabeth McKenzieThe Soulmate by Sally HepworthAmerican Mermaid: a novel by Julia LangbeinThe Fake by Zoe WhittallUp Next For Me:For You and Only You by Caroline KepnesSoThis Bookclub linkCome say hello to me at the Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. Check here for a forthcoming post about where I will be and when! Support the showI hope you all have a wonderfully bookish week!
Reviewed by Stan Prager, Regarp Book Blog” id=”2NgeV6Qywbe” vid=”2NgeV6Qywbe” id-for-player=”2NgeV6Qywbe” link=”/listen/review-of-wrestling-with-his-angelthe-political-life-of-abraham-lincoln-vol-ii-1849-1856-all-the-pow-2NgeV6Qywbe/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Review of: Wrestling With His Angel:The Political Life of Abraham Lincoln Vol. II, 1849-1856, & All the Powers of Earth:The Political Life of Abraham Lincoln Vol. III, 1856-1860,by Sidney Blumenthal Review of:  Wrestling With His Angel: The Political Life of Abraham Lincoln Vol. II, 1849-1856, and All the Powers of Earth: The Political Life of Abraham Lincoln Vol. III, 1856-1860, by Sidney Blumenthal
Reviewed by Stan Prager, Regarp Book Blog
We discuss:
When breeding a mini-poodle and golden retriever, who’s on top?
How the Reagans planned their week to their horoscope.
Researching World War 2 and creating compelling characters
How she almost self published before her first book went ” id=”2I6VoC1QCdK” vid=”2I6VoC1QCdK” id-for-player=”2I6VoC1QCdK” link=”/listen/martha-hall-kelly-236-2I6VoC1QCdK/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Martha Hall Kelly #236 Martha Hall Kelly is the author of The Golden Doves.
We discuss:
When breeding a mini-poodle and golden retriever, who’s on top?
How the Reagans planned their week to their horoscope.
Researching World War 2 and creating compelling characters
How she almost self published before her first book went to auction.
And so much more.
Join the email list by sending me a note at [email protected] for writing prompts, scheduling writing, and so much more.
Drinks with Tony is on iTunes, Spotify, Pandora, Stitcher, and other podcast outlets. It also airs every Thursday evening at 6pm on 101.9 FM, KPCR, Santa Cruz.
Ep 57: Molly Twomey Molly Twomey grew up in Lismore, County Waterford, and graduated in 2019 with an MA in Creative Writing from UCC. She has been published in The Irish Times, Banshee, The Stinging Fly and Poetry Ireland Review and her first poetry collection, Raised among vultures, is now available from The Gallery Press. The collection’s unflinching style deals with the complexities of modern living, the realities of dealing with an eating disorder and the intricacies of family dynamics. During the podcast, she reads from the collection and discusses the relationship between her anorexia and her writing, and the forms and shapes her poetry has taken.

Support Full-time RV Life: https://www.pa” id=”21uZm74r5Uh” vid=”21uZm74r5Uh” id-for-player=”21uZm74r5Uh” link=”/listen/full-time-rv-life-bonus-21uZm74r5Uh/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
Full-time RV Life (bonus) Mike Correll brings you a glimpse at full-time RV life. Experience the first nine months of full-time RV life with Joy and Mike Correll, and take a vicarious journey across the United States and back! Written, recorded, scored and produced by Mike Correll. 

Support Full-time RV Life: https://www.patreon.com/NewArchaicRevival
 
© 2019 All Rights Reserved, NRG Creations
01 Testimony Introduced Mike Correll describes his recent baptism, along with his wife Joy Correll, and the far reaching effects in their life! More from The New Archaic Revival here: https://www.patreon.com/NewArchaicRevival

© 2023 All Rights Reserved, NRG Creations” id=”9jqoNvsPMJh” vid=”9jqoNvsPMJh” id-for-player=”9jqoNvsPMJh” link=”/listen/02-volunteering-for-less-9jqoNvsPMJh/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
02 Volunteering for Less Mike Correll discusses volunteerism, tiny living as a full-time RV nomad, and good-human-naturedness. Learn more here: https://www.patreon.com/NewArchaicRevival

© 2023 All Rights Reserved, NRG Creations
31. Self Doubt and Confidence Laura and John contemplate self doubt in writing, how it ties to ego and confidence. They also go through a few 'best first lines' of book, according to The Guardian.

Don’t mind some of our technical ” id=”9Vj5Ye6qhzx” vid=”9Vj5Ye6qhzx” id-for-player=”9Vj5Ye6qhzx” link=”/listen/s4-e2-a-true-crime-worst-nightmare-9Vj5Ye6qhzx/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
(S4 – E2) A True Crime Worst Nightmare Join Katera and Kara as they review "If You Tell" by Gregg Olsen, a true crime novel about Shelly Knotek's horrific crimes of abuse, murder and neglect. We decided to go with a spring snack of strawberry salsa with homemade cinnamon sugar tortilla chips.

Don't mind some of our technical difficulties and antics!

Visit our website for our ongoing blog and much more at www.booksandbrunchpodcast.com.



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156 – “Spring is Springing!” ? On this week’s episode, Tayla, Elena, and Dave tempt the fates of New England weather by talking directly about springtime and the changing of the seasons. If it snows after this episode is published, we are sorry! They also talk about dystopias, revisiting movies, and the beauty for Studio Ghibli films. During the Last Chapter we discussed what book that people say are their favorites is a “red flag” for us.
Podcast disclaimer
Like what you hear? Rate and review Down Time on Apple Podcasts or your podcast player of choice! If you’d like to submit a topic for The Last Chapter you can send your suggestions to [email protected]. Our theme music is Day Trips by Ketsa and our ad music is Happy Ukulele by Scott Holmes. Thanks for listening!
Books
Yellowface by R. F. Kuang
The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson
Snow Crash by Neal Stephenson
The Terraformers by Annalee Newitz

AV
You Are Good (podcast)
Amadeus (1984)
Moonrise Kingdom (2012)
Spirited Away (2001)
My Neighbor Totoro (1988)

Other
URI Master Gardener Program
"Donora Death Fog" with Andy McPhee In October 1948, a seemingly average fog descended on the tiny mill town of Donora, Pennsylvania. With a population of fewer than fifteen thousand, the town's main industry was steel and zinc mills—mills that continually emitted pollutants into the air. The six-day smog event left twenty-one people dead and thousands sick. Even after the fog lifted, hundreds more died or were left with lingering health problems.
pcntv.com/donate
pcntv.com/membership-signup
pcntv.com
စာရေးဆရာ – စက်မှုတက္ကသိုလ်စိုးဝင်း
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

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ဦးသန့်အရေးအခင်းအကြောင်း (အစ-အဆုံး) စာအုပ်အမည် – ဦးသန့်အရေးအခင်းအကြောင်း
စာရေးဆရာ – စက်မှုတက္ကသိုလ်စိုးဝင်း
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

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Download K Sharing Audiobook Application from Amazon App Store.
ထောက်ပို့အတွက် ထောက်ပံ့ချင်တယ်ဆိုရင်တော့ ဒီက အသံစာအုပ်တွေကို အောက်ပါ Link ကနေ ဒေါင်းလုတ်ယူပြီး အသုံးပြု နားထောင်နိုင်ပါတယ်။ အဲဒီ App က ရသမျှကို ထောက်ပို့အတွက် လှူဒါန်းသွားမှာဖြစ်ပါတယ်။
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စာရေးဆရာ – တင်ညွန့်
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
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ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

You can listen on "Anchor" – ⁠⁠K Sharing Audiobook⁠⁠
Subscribe o” id=”wyPQLDFSQF” vid=”wyPQLDFSQF” id-for-player=”wyPQLDFSQF” link=”/listen/-wyPQLDFSQF/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
အာဏာရှင်ဦးနေဝင်း၏နေဝင်ချိန် (အစ-အဆုံး) စာအုပ်အမည် – အာဏာရှင်ဦးနေဝင်း၏နေဝင်ချိန်


စာရေးဆရာ – တင်ညွန့်
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

You can listen on "Anchor" – ⁠⁠K Sharing Audiobook⁠⁠
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ထောက်ပို့အတွက် ထောက်ပံ့ချင်တယ်ဆိုရင်တော့ ဒီက အသံစာအုပ်တွေကို အောက်ပါ Link ကနေ ဒေါင်းလုတ်ယူပြီး အသုံးပြု နားထောင်နိုင်ပါတယ်။ အဲဒီ App က ရသမျှကို ထောက်ပို့အတွက် လှူဒါန်းသွားမှာဖြစ်ပါတယ်။
⁠⁠ဒီစာကိုနှိပ်ပြီးဒေါင်းပါ⁠







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စာရေးဆရာ – K Sharing Audiobook
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

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သူတောင်းစားရွေးကောက်ပွဲ (သရော်စာ) စာအုပ်အမည် – သူတောင်းစားရွေးကောက်ပွဲ (သရော်စာ)


စာရေးဆရာ – K Sharing Audiobook
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

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ထောက်ပို့အတွက် ထောက်ပံ့ချင်တယ်ဆိုရင်တော့ ဒီက အသံစာအုပ်တွေကို အောက်ပါ Link ကနေ ဒေါင်းလုတ်ယူပြီး အသုံးပြု နားထောင်နိုင်ပါတယ်။ အဲဒီ App က ရသမျှကို ထောက်ပို့အတွက် လှူဒါန်းသွားမှာဖြစ်ပါတယ်။
⁠⁠⁠ဒီစာကိုနှိပ်ပြီးဒေါင်းပါ⁠⁠








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စာရေးဆရာ – ဇာဏ်ခီ
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
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ကိုယ်တိုင်သိရှိသွားမှု – ဇာဏ်ခီ စာအုပ်အမည် – ကိုယ်တိုင်သိရှိသွားမှု


စာရေးဆရာ – ဇာဏ်ခီ
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

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ထောက်ပို့အတွက် ထောက်ပံ့ချင်တယ်ဆိုရင်တော့ ဒီက အသံစာအုပ်တွေကို အောက်ပါ Link ကနေ ဒေါင်းလုတ်ယူပြီး အသုံးပြု နားထောင်နိုင်ပါတယ်။ အဲဒီ App က ရသမျှကို ထောက်ပို့အတွက် လှူဒါန်းသွားမှာဖြစ်ပါတယ်။
⁠⁠⁠⁠ဒီစာကိုနှိပ်ပြီးဒေါင်းပါ⁠⁠⁠









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စာရေးဆရာ – ရဲဘော်ဖေသန်း
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
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You can listen on &quot;Anchor&quot; – ⁠K Sharing Audioboo” id=”2A7qoaJ1hpH” vid=”2A7qoaJ1hpH” id-for-player=”2A7qoaJ1hpH” link=”/listen/-2A7qoaJ1hpH/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
ဂျာမန်ဗိုလ်ချုပ်ကြီးကို သေနတ်ဖြင့်ပစ်ခဲ့သူ – ရဲဘော်ဖေသန်း စာအုပ်အမည် – ဂျာမန်ဗိုလ်ချုပ်ကြီးကို သေနတ်ဖြင့်ပစ်ခဲ့သူ
စာရေးဆရာ – ရဲဘော်ဖေသန်း
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

You can listen on "Anchor" – ⁠K Sharing Audiobook⁠
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Download K Sharing Audiobook Application from Amazon App Store.
K Sharing Audiobook ရဲ့ App မှာ နားထောင်ချင်တယ်ဆိုရင် အောက်ပါလင့်မှာ App ကို ဒေါင်းလုတ်ဆွဲနိုင်ပါတယ်။
⁠ဒီစာကိုနှိပ်ပြီးဒေါင်းပါ






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စာရေးဆရာ – အောင်သင်း
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

You can listen on "Anchor" – ⁠⁠K Sharing Audiobook⁠⁠
Subscribe our yout” id=”5mqIPb4236k” vid=”5mqIPb4236k” id-for-player=”5mqIPb4236k” link=”/listen/-5mqIPb4236k/” is-authorized=”false” custom-styles=”margin: 0 24px 24px 0;”>
လူငယ်ရဲ့ဘဝနဲ့တန်ဖိုး – အောင်သင်း စာအုပ်အမည် – လူငယ်ရဲ့ဘဝနဲ့တန်ဖိုး
စာရေးဆရာ – အောင်သင်း
စာအုပ်အမျိုးအစား – ဗဟုသုတ / Knowledge
Episode – All Episodes (Finished)

ကျွန်တော့ရဲ့ Spodify Podcast Channel လေးကိုလည်း Follow လုပ်သွားပေးကြပါဦးခင်ဗျာ။

You can listen on "Anchor" – ⁠⁠K Sharing Audiobook⁠⁠
Subscribe our youtube channel – ⁠⁠K Sharing Audiobook⁠⁠
Follow us on facebook – ⁠⁠K Sharing ⁠⁠

Download K Sharing Audiobook Application from Amazon App Store.
K Sharing Audiobook ရဲ့ App မှာ နားထောင်ချင်တယ်ဆိုရင် အောက်ပါလင့်မှာ App ကို ဒေါင်းလုတ်ဆွဲနိုင်ပါတယ်။
⁠⁠ဒီစာကိုနှိပ်ပြီးဒေါင်းပါ⁠







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